120 The Holy Place

‘Despite his dark skin, he is an attractive man and my brief contact with him leads me to believe he is considerate and understanding; perhaps too much so.’

John Stanley-20th June 1355

They stabled their horses in the village and walked back up the steep meandering road to the base of the rock. Close to the foot of the steps, Sebastien stopped a moment. There was a dressed piece of stone, buried in the earth, upon which John could just make out the image of a dove.


‘This is the holiest place of all.’ Sebastien told his audience. ‘This is the spot where hundreds of Cathars, Perfects, believers and ordinary people who simply supported the Cathars’ freedom to worship, were burned alive.’ He stopped over the marker, closed his eyes and lifted both palms until they were level with his head and facing the stone. John was not surprised that Ximene, Lady Eleanor and Guillam joined Sebastien in his contemplation, but he was astonished to see the Prince assume the same pose and bow his head.

John looked around. It was as if he sensed the presence of all those murdered people. To his surprise, they were not moaning in agony but celebrating their reunion with the spiritual world.

Sebastien led the ascent. He was followed in single file by the Prince, Lady Eleanor, Guillam, Ximene and John.

John gazed around, getting a better feel for why this place was considered so special. To the south lay the main body of the Pyrenees; grey-blue, forbidding but impressive. In the distance, mountains were capped with snow. In the foreground, high peaks in every shade of green were punctuated by outcrops of grey, cream and pure white rock. The air smelled fresh and clean. Wispy clouds hovered above and, as they climbed, below. To John, it was as if he was climbing to heaven.

Because he was situated immediately behind Ximene, he was able to talk to her in stops and starts. It was a hard climb and they both found themselves out of breath. When Sebastien called a halt, Ximene took up their conversation. ‘I have been thinking again about your education. You did not seem keen on the idea of spending time with Pipa in Bordeaux. Perhaps instead I should introduce you to an older woman who could give a broader experience on how to give a woman pleasure.’

John’s eyes bulged and his smile slipped from his lips. ‘Is there some reason you want to avoid physical contact with me? Do you mean to say that you could not teach me yourself?’ John swung a palm to direct Ximene to move ahead of him.

Ximene hesitated. ‘Perhaps so, but for you to consort with an older woman for a while could be good for both of us.’

John raised his brow. ‘You obviously think I am clumsy, inept in sexual matters. If you see me in that way, why do you encourage me?’

‘It is … perhaps it is because I do care for you, John, and I am convinced our relationship is important. I do not want it spoiled by the fact that your experience is very limited. If you are to make mistakes, I want you to make them with someone else. I also have limited experience, I don’t want to make mistakes either… if that makes sense?’

John placed both hands on the face of the rock and stared at the steps beneath his feet, breathing deeply as he did so.

Ximene waited a moment, so as not to leave him behind.

He looked up at her. ‘To me, it makes no sense at all.’

They started to climb again but Ximene stopped unexpectedly and again turned to face John.

Before she spoke, John decided to change the subject. ‘It is strange that you are the heiress to Carcassonne, yet you have never seen it.’

‘I may never see it, John.’

She was several steps above him on a turning point in the steps where there was secure footing. The wind blew through her hair and caused her cloak to flurry around her. She was framed by the backdrop of mountains and sky. ‘I suppose there is still a possibility that I might marry the Prince.’ She flicked her head to the sky. ‘However, it seems to be increasingly obvious that it is all a charade.’

‘What do you mean? Do you think he does not intend to marry you? Why would he have come all the way to meet you?’

‘To this point in time, you have been supposed to be representing his interests. You are guarding me, preparing to be the conduit for any negotiations, but have you ever been told he wants to marry me?’

John thought for nearly a minute. ‘No, I don’t think I have, at least in those words.’

‘The requirement to share his bed and provide legitimate heirs is of no concern. Despite his dark skin, he is an attractive man and my brief contact with him leads me to believe he is considerate and understanding; perhaps too much so. Any children we had could be educated as Cathars and if they used the power they would inevitably have they would be in a position to protect those who follow the faith.’

‘And isn’t that what you have wanted?’

‘Perhaps, but suppose he has not told either of us exactly what his intentions are. I have learned from Pipa, or rather from Pipa’s father, that directly or indirectly he is testing all the lords of the Toulousain, Carcassonne and Beziers to see if they are prepared to pay him homage.’

‘Yes, I did know that.’

‘To him, I am just another of those lords. A dynastic marriage is exactly the same as the merging of two kingdoms; a conquest without violence. However, I have listened carefully and I believe he thinks he could win my support without marrying me.’

‘Oh!’

Her voice hardened. ‘At dinner in Muret, he told me that as soon as I was out of the control of the Comte, he would recognise Occitan as an independent nation and me as its Head of State.’

John nodded, pleased to get confirmation of what the Earl had told him. ‘That is good, isn’t It?’

‘It is considerate of him, but without the support of his army it could expose me and my people to danger.’

‘If he doesn’t marry you, it will make a difference?’

‘Of course, it would. I would not have the same control over what he does. I would really be just another lord. I must be confident that he could and would support an independent Occitan.’

‘And you think he could not do that?’

‘He mingles his ambitions with a professed sympathy with the Cathar religion. He does this to please me and to win favour with others. There is no evidence that he has thought it through.’ She breathed deeply. ‘Well, I have! Now I am free, I can consider these things.’

‘You think he hasn’t thought it through?’ There was a note of incredulity in John’s voice.

Ximene shook her head. ‘Listen to me, John. If in an independent Occitan, he were to allow me to support the Cathar religion publicly, it would be necessary to expel a well-established, well-funded, Holy Inquisition. If he did not help me do this, the Inquisition would undermine my authority and destroy thousands of ordinary people who tried to follow my lead. On the other hand, the expulsion of the Inquisition would attract the attention of the Pope and we would probably be faced with another Crusade.’

‘But he could protect Occitan!’

‘To resist a Crusade, the Prince would need to control all the lands within the natural barriers that have protected the south in the past. That means everything between the River Tarn and Garonne and everything to the west of the Rhone. That territory goes significantly further than the lands encompassed by my own inheritance. The whole of that barrier would have to be fortified. In order to protect our southern coast, he would have to build a navy on the Mediterranean and ports to house that navy.’

‘Have you discussed this with the Prince?’

‘Yes, but only briefly. One of his schemes is to generate wealth by controlling the trade between the Mediterranean and the Atlantic. He envisages a maritime, not a territorial, empire but he needs Occitan to give him control of trade from the east.’ He tells me that to achieve that aim he can provide protection for an independent Occitan.’

‘If he gives his word, he will do it.’

‘Are his subjects in Aquitaine or his father’s subjects in England going to pay higher taxes to fund the stability of the south? Many Cathars will emerge from hiding. If he fails to provide protection when another Crusade invades, my people will be defeated and humiliated again. Every town will see heroes burned in the streets.’

John clenched a fist. ‘If the Prince gave his word, he would not let you down.’

‘The suffering of my people would be my responsibility, not his.’


The wind blew more strongly and she reached down to pull her cloak around her. She turned her face upward towards the bulk of the Château, now not far above them. ‘Being here at Monségur, such a holy place strengthens my resolve. In such circumstances, rather than bring suffering to my people, I would rather be an unknown clerk in the back streets of Palermo than Countess of Carcassonne, Duchess of Occitan, Princess of Aquitaine, or Queen of Anywhere.’

The most dangerous woman in the world

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Extract from The Prisoner of Foix--Chapter 43 -The EntranceNo need to buy a Kindle. Read it on your computer or tablet

John Stanley-26th April 1355

 

'Looks like we are going to see a bit of excitement, John. The Captain tried to get an agreement from the Prince that if there is surf running across the channel to Arcachon we will turn back to Bordeaux, but the Prince would hear none of it. Instead, he has offered to provide insurance for all three ships. If they are damaged or sunk, the owners will be compensated and every sailor who makes the passage will be given a bounty payment. What none of this seems to take into account is that if we sink in rough, fast-flowing waters we might all drown.'

John raised his eyebrows. 'But that is what we are going to do?'

'Yes, despite the fact that surf running accross the entrance is not uncommon and the deep water channel moves continually. In the end, the Prince attacked their captains on their weakest point, their professional pride! He threw down the gauntlet. He offered to take the Sally first through the channel, and to take control during the passage.' He raised his brow. 'We are going into the Bay of Arcachon, come what may! '

Extract from The Eagle of Carcassone -- Chapter 24-- A Real GoddessNo need to buy a Kindle. Read it on your computer or tablet

John Stanley - 22 July 1355

An hour later John walked with Ximene close to the river along the valley below St Feriole. It was the very essence of a summer’s day. The sun was fierce but in the shadow of the trees, it was cool and fragrant. The trees and shrubs along the riverbank hid their progress, from the Château, from St Feriole.

Eventually they reached a point where John thought it was safe to emerge from cover. To his satisfaction the stream extended into a pool with a sandy beach, shaded by trees. Where the stream entered the pool there was a flat grassy area, almost circular. Behind this, the bulk of two mountain ridges provided a splendid backdrop. 

He looked around once more ‘Not just a good training ground but a great training ground. If the Greek heroes knew about this they might be tempted to join me, to train with me’

Ximene laughed out loud. He turned to look at her. She had removed her outer clothes and was wearing a white chemise, cut short so that it barely reached her knees. Around her waist, she wore a plaited leather belt, obviously fashioned from the multitude of leather straps to be found in the tackle room.

She ran her hands down over her breasts. ‘When you were unconscious I heard you muttering about gods and goddesses, so  I have decided that from now on, for you, I will be the goddess.’