Viscount Simon marched against Lavour. After two months of battering, the walls crumbled. Simon hanged Aimery de Montréal, who was commandant, with eighty of his knights. Yet by God’s design the gibbet broke, hence many that had expected a rope got their throats slit. Four hundred Cathari were rounded up, men and women both, and marched into a meadow where all burned rejoicing, such was their obduracy. Lady Guiraude de Laurac, chatelaine of Lavaur, after being dragged outside the gate was thrown into a well, stones dropped on top to bury her. A very great loss and sin, according to a chanson of those days, for never did a living soul depart hungry from the castle. However that may be, all were anathema to God and so this was not homicide but malicide. Truly did blessed Saint Augustine remark that precepts of forbearance should be kept by a wary heart.
Viscount Simon crossed the Rhône thinking to chastise other sectarians, unwisely marching away from the center of his strength. He attacked the proud city of Toulouse. Several times he was repulsed and the legate began to grumble. Why did he not subjugate this nest of vipers? Had he engaged in some evil that brought about God’s wrath?
During the ninth month a powerful chatte was built that could be rolled close to the ramparts and look across the city. But the men of Toulouse made a dawn sortie. Simon was hearing mass when he learned they had breached his camp. After concluding devotions he hurried to the battle, but just then Guy de Montfort was struck by an arrow. Simon rushed toward him, lamenting bitterly, and was hit by a stone in such wise that eyeballs, teeth, brains, and skull flew all to pieces and down he dropped stark dead and bloody. Now the city and the very paving rang with the sound of horns, trumpets, church bells, gongs, drums, bugles, ringing and hammering gladly since this took place where anyone could see. Up from Toulouse went a huge clamor of relief that Simon de Montfort was dead, murmurs of consternation from the Catholic camp. It is told in the chanson that young girls served the catapult that destroyed him. What could be the purport of this? When a thing deviates from our expectation there must be some error in our thought.
Straightway they bore him to burial in Carcassone, celebrated the service at Saint-Nazaire. And those who know how to read may learn from his epitaph that he is a saint, a martyr destined to rise again, to flourish in unparalleled felicity, to have his place in the Kingdom. This according to the Canzon de la Crozada.
Montfort es mort! they sang in Toulouse. Es mort! Es mort!
Soon enough old Count Raymond followed his enemy, yet being excommunicate was denied the succor of religion. Forbidden burial in consecrated earth, he lay neglected outside the cemetery and was eaten by rats. Hospitalers some time later got his skull.
Anon, Honorius became pontiff, and it seemed to him that foxes were creeping into vineyards of the Lord. Thus he despatched Cardinal Romanus to France and the cardinal vigorously preached his message. All who were able to carry weapons should march against the tainted city of Toulouse. Prelates and laity responded. King Louis himself assumed the cross. However, King Louis would not proceed until he got letters from the pontiff that forbade the English under pain of excommunication to annoy his realm while he was absent on crusade. Then would he march against defiant Provenceaux.
The army assembled at Bourges on Ascension Day. Roger of Wendover declares that as it moved south along the Rhône it could have been taken for an army of castles in motion what with fifty thousand mounted knights and more sergeants than could be counted, all with glittering shields, accompanied by archbishops and bishops holding innumerable banners.
Whitsunday Eve they came to Avignon. King Louis requested leave to shorten their march by passing through, but the citizens would not open up. They said the king meant treachery. Then he was provoked and swore not to depart until Avignon lay subject at his feet. So with mangonels and crossbows and other devices he launched a furious assault. But the city was well defended, well equipped, giving back stone for stone, dart for dart, inflicting grievous damage. Numerous Franks went to sleep in Christ.
Moreover, the people of Avignon had stripped the countryside of grain, fruit, horses, swine, cattle, everything serviceable, and ploughed up their fields. Hence the Franks were obliged to look for nutriment. Pilgrims, sergeants, knights, God knows how many gave up the ghost for lack of sustenance to fill their bellies. If this were not enough, black flies crept through tents, pavilions, crept over spoons, plates, cups, and bloody flux tormented the living host. King Louis fretted with good reason because if he failed at his purpose he would be mocked. Therefore a huge attack was ordered. Now such a multitude of armored men crossed the bridge that, either from their weight or because these treacherous people undermined the arches, the bridge crumbled. Franks plunged groaning into the tumultuous stream, dozens, hundreds, bringing shouts of joy from the besieged.
And one day with the Franks at table, unprepared to fight, these watchful citizens sallied from the gate, rushed around killing as many as possible before scuttling back to the city. King Louis ordered bodies flung into the river on account of the smell. He ordered a trench dug between Avignon and the Frankish camp to prevent this happening again. Now the assembled prelates, having no better idea, declared excommunicate the citizens of Avignon. By this time good weather was nearly used up. Few in the army looked forward to cold winter rain.
King Louis thought to escape this unhappy condition with pestilence all around, so betook himself to the monastery at Montpensier. But here came Henry, count of Champagne, who had served forty days at the siege and therefore, by Frankish custom, asked leave to go home. King Louis would not give permission. Then said the count, having served those forty days he meant to go home if the king would like it or not. This roused King Louis to swear an oath that should the count go away in such fashion his territory would be ravaged by sword and fire. Whereupon the count, bursting with lust for the king’s wife, caused poison to be administered and in a little while Louis took sick as the potion worked through his vitals. So he died. Cardinal Romanus and his advisers thought it best to dissimulate. King Louis, said they, had fallen ill but in the judgment of physicians would recover. They preserved the husk of King Louis with salt, wrapped it in waxed linen that they tucked within the hide of a bull. His entrails they buried in the convent. Thus, experienced at cunning, they sought to reassure the army.
But finding themselves with no advantage and a dead sovereign on their hands, plus other hindrance, Cardinal Romanus despatched a message to Avignon requesting that twelve elders be sent out to discuss peace under guarantee of safe conduct. Twelve citizens emerged. Cardinal Romanus earnestly advised them to surrender, by which they could save their lives, properties, and liberties. They answered that they would not consent to live under Frankish dominion whose insolence and pride they had endured more than once. Cardinal Romanus requested leave to enter Avignon with his prelates so they might test the faith of inhabitants, vowing that he had pressed the siege merely for the benefit of their souls. Therefore, when oaths had been sworn on both sides, the cardinal with his prelates entered. But while the gates were open, as had been secretly arranged, Frankish soldiers rushed forward and got inside to capture the city.
Priests carted off the skin and bones of King Louis to Paris so he might be interred among his ancestors. As for soldiers who followed the king on this journey, Roger of Wendover asserts that twenty-two thousand perished, considering all slain or drowned, counting those who died from plague or starvation, bringing grief and tears to numerous households. Yet these soldiers of Christ achieved martyrdom no less gloriously than their brethren in the Holy Land since extirpation of heresy at home or oversea does great honor to the Lord.
Guillem Figueira, tailor and troubadour, again sang out. Rome! Little do you hurt the Saracen but murder Greek and Latin! Deadlock and hellfire be your throne! Grant me no share of your indulgence nor pilgrimage to Avignon!
Much on the track of apostasy His Holiness charged Archbishop Stephen de Burnin with the particular task of quenching misbelief in Languedoc. The archbisho
p approved two Dominicans, Peter Seila and William Arnald, the first Inquisitors, whose authority was confirmed. They were deputed to proceed without obligation to episcopal or civil justice in the dioceses of Toulouse and Albi. Soon enough they laid hold of a false theologist, Vigoros de Baconia, who was tried, condemned, straightway executed. Thus were the Cathari deprived of an energetic leader.
Peter Seila remained at Toulouse while his associate toured the province, visiting Laurac, Villefranche, La Bessède, Saint-Félix, Fanjeaux, all predisposed to concealment. The count of Toulouse objected to His Holiness that these Dominicans ignored legal process, denied counsel to the accused, heard testimony behind locked doors, as is common to this day, and otherwise trampled on the subjects’ heads. It was claimed that as a result of such methods people used these interrogations to charge private enemies with heretic theology. In this way the trials guided witnesses toward error, not in the direction of truth, creating turmoil, rousing citizens against the clergy and monastic alike. Therefore His Holiness advised the Inquisitors to proceed with circumspection. Also, he wrote to Archbishop Stephen and to various bishops, suggesting they intercede if necessary.
This did not curb zealous pursuit. In Toulouse lived a certain Jean Tisseyre, a workman, who took it upon himself to go about the streets haranguing people. Listen to me, citizens! he would shout. I have a wife and sleep with her. Like everybody else I curse and lie and eat meat. I am a good Christian. Do not pay attention if these Dominicans call me atheist because they want to punish innocent folk. They will be after you before you know it.
That this man Tisseyre got acquainted with Cathari who had been rounded up by the bailiff Denense is a fact. He converted to their faith with such ardor that he received the consolamentum at their hands. He professed allegiance to these wicked people and declared a wish to share their fate. Justifiably he went to the stake alongside them.
For two years Peter Seila and William Arnald questioned suspects in Toulouse and the provinces. Betimes they decreed a period of grace, a week or fortnight, during which those who lapsed from godliness might admit to error without coercion. This brought out many citizens eager to accuse themselves, hoping thus to elude the stake or dungeon, hoping for canonical penance such as going on pilgrimage or paying a fine or carrying a cross. It is related that during mass confessions a suspect named Doumenge omitted to step forth. Being threatened with death, he saved himself by disclosing where ten Cathari hid themselves at Cassès. Three of these ten escaped, seven were caught and met the stake since they had gone astray. Thus did our Heavenly Father see to their conclusion.
Brothers Seila and Arnald traveled to the district of Quercy. More than two hundred seculars did they find at Moissac and burnt every one. Also, they conducted posthumous investigations, exhumed and burnt numerous corpses.
In Toulouse a singular occurrence was noted. Just as Bishop Raymond du Fauga washed his hands before entering the refectory he learned of an old woman nearby who had accepted the consolamentum. He went at once to the address, followed by the convent prior and others, to interrogate this dying old woman on matters of faith. And she, being told the lord bishop had arrived, mistakenly thought him a Cathar bishop and spewed forth the odious dogma. Then said Bishop Raymond, encouraging this misapprehension, not even fear of death should make you confess to other than that you hold most firmly. To which the old woman answered that so long as life remained she would not deny Catharism. So now Bishop Raymond disclosed himself for what he was, not Cathar but Catholic, and he implored her to recant. She would not. In front of witnesses she persevered ever more stubbornly. Then she was carried in her bed as far as Pré-du-Comte since she was too feeble to walk, put to the stake and burnt forthwith. After which the bishop with his entourage went back to the refectory, gave thanks to God and fell cheerfully upon the food. Anon the prior delivered a sermon likening the fire that consumed her to that which Elijah called down from heaven to confound the priests of Baal.
More interrogations came about. A certain perfectus, by name Raymond Gros, having seen the light of Jesus Christ, denounced large numbers of dead citizens. Graves were opened, bones and carcasses dragged on hurdles through Toulouse and a public crier announcing their names to warn the living. Qui atal fara, atal pendra. Which is to say, whosoever does the like, so will he suffer.
Behold! Behold! warned the Inquisitor. Behold a greedy fire swallow thy companions! See how the people surge close to watch eager flames lick thy flesh! Shalt thou burn or shalt thou conform? Answer at once!
Little refuge existed but at Montségur five leagues from Foix. On a pinnacle the castle stood secure, none thought it could be taken. They say it was built in our year of grace 1204 by Ramón de Perella who sympathized with Cathars and gave lodging to notorious recusants. So they resolved to make this a permanent home whence they might descend on quick tours of their frightened laity. They strengthened the keep. Being succored by villagers they put up huge stores of grain to withstand a siege, and like worms burrowed cells to accommodate the rising population. Soon enough came four Inquisitors from Toulouse who took quarters in the village of Avignonet to conduct their work. Pierre-Roger, who was commandant of Montségur, led eighty-five knights with axes and swords to the citadel where these examiners slept, slashed and chopped them all to death, so much hatred did persecution hatch. Old narratives relate that Inquisitor Guillaume Arnaud died with the Te Deum on his lips, run through the body numerous times, his head smashed against flagstones.
Do not those in God’s service go armed with inimitable authority? Hugh d’Arcis brought soldiers to encamp beneath Montségur but on account of the terrain he could not surround it. During the winter Bishop Durand arrived with soldiers from his diocese and erected a powerful trebuchet that severely damaged the east tower. Commandant Pierre-Roger thought the escarpment would protect them on that side, so he withdrew his men from the outworks. But there were some Basques who knew the slope. They climbed it, knifed the sentinels, and got control of the barbican. These Basques could not penetrate the central keep, nevertheless Montségur would fall. Those inside, like trapped garrisons everywhere, took to reading the breeze for news, telling one another fabulous tales of armies hastening to their aid. The count of Toulouse is en route, they said. The emperor of Germany marches to save us.
After nine months of resistance Montségur capitulated. All were permitted to leave, accepting light penance for their sin, generous terms indeed. All were allowed to depart excepting those who would not abjure perfidious belief. Some openly received the consolamentum, thus defiantly condemning themselves to the stake. These were led from the castle in chains. Beneath Montségur on a pyre of blazing wood these obdurate sectarians gave up the ghost, more than two hundred, including the daughter of Ramón de Perella, Escalaramonde, together with Bertrand de Marty, the last heretic bishop.
Catharism thenceforth ceased to be a church. Congregations declined because they had no cleric to lead the wicked service. Some few persisted yet when hailed before Inquisitors did not know what they believed. Some had not heard the faith preached for years before they were arrested.
While this happened in the south there occurred in the north an event that caused men to bite their lips and wag their heads. Children resolved to do what kings and princes could not. They would march oversea to liberate the Holy Sepulcher. In the province of Orléannais a shepherd boy named Stephen from the village of Cloyes began to preach a doctrine never before heard. He declared that while tending his flock near Cloyes he was approached by a stranger, a pilgrim returning from the Holy Land, who asked for something to eat. And when Stephen shared his food the pilgrim revealed himself to be Jesus Christ, saying that the innocents of France would succeed where kings had failed. He appointed this boy Stephen to lead the march and gave him a letter addressed to King Philip Augustus who was spending that summer at Saint Denys, burial place of Frankish kings since the time of Dagobert. Here, too, was the Oriflamme kept, holy standard of the realm. Concerning th
e identity of this stranger who claimed to be our Lord, chronicles report little. Mayhap some heretic thinking to reach the king. By himself he could not gain audience, but it is known how children work marvels and by means of an artless shepherd boy he thought to reach court with his diabolic argument.
Some think the boy’s wits addled by Saint Mark’s Day when church altars are draped in black, when citizens parade through the streets chanting and waving crosses swathed in black to commemorate those who died for the Holy Land, to implore mercy on those enslaved. Groans, shrieks, laments, dolorous chants, seizures, black crosses nodding in the street, all this might afflict the orderly process of thought, arouse a feverish desire to expel Saracens from Christ’s kingdom oversea. Without question those who are inexperienced may be seduced by charming the senses.
Might it be Satan’s work? We are told that Stephen witnessed the Feast of Asses, which insults Blessed Mary as well as God since the choir follows the Introit, or Kyrie, or whatever part is chanted, by imitating the dreadful song of the ass. And a sermon devoted to praise of the ass is preached with Latin and French intermingled, hence many in the congregation feel bewildered. And this farce being ended, the priest brays three times, whereupon the congregate responds not with Deo Gratias but with abominable noise. Hin-hawm! Hin-hawm! Hin-hawm!
Further, at the time of Epiphany certain Christians having lost all sense of duty celebrate the Feast of Fools. Eudes de Sully when he was minister tried to suppress the vile charade, in vain. Clerics select an archbishop and a bishop who are escorted to the cathedral by mock prelates gowned with utmost pomp. Masked, disguised as buffoons, sporting animal hides or garments meant for women they leap and gesticulate, dance through the holy edifice, bawl monstrous songs. They gamble at dice on the altar, burn leather sandals for incense, perform and strut with hideous vulgarity to defile the church as though to express what most weighs upon their souls, that Christianity is a fable, their obligations but deceitful acts from a counterfeit drama. Could such pageantry rattle the wit of a witless boy?
Deus Lo Volt! Page 36