William?” Lil asked, squinting. I frowned, recognizing that I felt both relief and sorrow when he moved to her, pointing over her shoulder so she could follow. What was going on inside me? I had to stop this and stop it immediately.
“That is the remains of the chateau of Quéribus, the last of the Cathar strongholds to fall in 1255. As difficult as Peyrepertuse is to reach, she’s more challenging still.”
“Was Quéribus one of the sons of Carcassonne, too?” Nell asked, like a student bent on earning a top grade in class.
“Indeed,” he said, giving her a wink.
“And the Cathars…” I mused. “Who were they?”
He studied me. “A thirteenth-century religious sect who grew very critical of the corruption they saw in the church. They flourished here, but their rebellion was soon exploited for political purposes. Peter II of Aragon dearly wished to annex Languedoc, this region in which we currently stand, but Philippe II of France would have none of it, of course. He convinced the pope to declare the Cathars heretics. A crusade was formed, and for a hundred years, the Cathar faith was exploited, her followers routed out, tortured, and killed.”
An adventure of the soul , the old bear had teased us. Sounded more like tortured souls to me. “What did they believe?” I asked.
“The Cathars believed there to be a duality between good and evil. They thought that if they renounced the world and lived their lives in nonviolence, eating as vegetarians and abstaining from man’s, uh…baser desires, they would become closer to God.”
Hugh snorted and barely turned to hide his smile. “How did they intend to further their cause if they did not…procreate? In a generation, they would’ve died out!”
Will’s lips clamped shut as he studied the man. Then, “They believed that was up to God. They only knew what they were to do.”
“But obviously, God did not honor them,” Andrew said. “They were all killed?”
Will kicked at a loose stone before him and then looked to the wall. “Many went into hiding. Thousands were killed. Twenty thousand alone in Béziers in 1209. The pope promised the heretics’ land to the crusaders, as well as granting complete forgiveness, even before they’d murdered their supposed enemies. By 1244, the Cathars were largely dead or in hiding; that year, their last fortress at Montségur was sacked. As you walk about these ruins, consider what you would do if you believed God had directed your steps.…” He faltered, looking my way before regaining his composure. “Consider what it would be to have been in the boots of either Cathar or crusader.”
He set us loose after that, a somber, contemplative group as we wandered through the dry, dusty remains, ducking under low doorways, walking still-intact walls like knights on duty, considering how it would appear from here, to see thousands of armed men approaching, bent on taking us down…and then how impenetrable the castle would have seemed back in the day. We climbed the sixty-some rock-hewn stairs that led us to the fortress within the fortress, San Giorgi, the keep. Inside, we climbed to the top and peered over the edge. My eyes followed a pair of falcons that hovered fifty feet away, riding the winds. I thought I’d rather be them than either crusader or Cathar. But what did it mean to follow where God led, even at the price of death? Both sides believed God was behind them. How could that be?
Arthur came up beside me and leaned his forearms on the edge of the wall. “How many men and women found themselves here because it truly was their holy calling, and how many came because everyone around them told them it was their holy calling?”
It was an impossible question, so I remained silent. But his words rang in my head. How much did we do in life that was the result of what others around us demanded? Rather than what God was calling us to do? What was God calling me to do? Here? Now?
Lord, show me. I’m Yours.
“That is the remains of the chateau of Quéribus, the last of the Cathar strongholds to fall in 1255. As difficult as Peyrepertuse is to reach, she’s more challenging still.”
“Was Quéribus one of the sons of Carcassonne, too?” Nell asked, like a student bent on earning a top grade in class.
“Indeed,” he said, giving her a wink.
“And the Cathars…” I mused. “Who were they?”
He studied me. “A thirteenth-century religious sect who grew very critical of the corruption they saw in the church. They flourished here, but their rebellion was soon exploited for political purposes. Peter II of Aragon dearly wished to annex Languedoc, this region in which we currently stand, but Philippe II of France would have none of it, of course. He convinced the pope to declare the Cathars heretics. A crusade was formed, and for a hundred years, the Cathar faith was exploited, her followers routed out, tortured, and killed.”
An adventure of the soul , the old bear had teased us. Sounded more like tortured souls to me. “What did they believe?” I asked.
“The Cathars believed there to be a duality between good and evil. They thought that if they renounced the world and lived their lives in nonviolence, eating as vegetarians and abstaining from man’s, uh…baser desires, they would become closer to God.”
Hugh snorted and barely turned to hide his smile. “How did they intend to further their cause if they did not…procreate? In a generation, they would’ve died out!”
Will’s lips clamped shut as he studied the man. Then, “They believed that was up to God. They only knew what they were to do.”
“But obviously, God did not honor them,” Andrew said. “They were all killed?”
Will kicked at a loose stone before him and then looked to the wall. “Many went into hiding. Thousands were killed. Twenty thousand alone in Béziers in 1209. The pope promised the heretics’ land to the crusaders, as well as granting complete forgiveness, even before they’d murdered their supposed enemies. By 1244, the Cathars were largely dead or in hiding; that year, their last fortress at Montségur was sacked. As you walk about these ruins, consider what you would do if you believed God had directed your steps.…” He faltered, looking my way before regaining his composure. “Consider what it would be to have been in the boots of either Cathar or crusader.”
He set us loose after that, a somber, contemplative group as we wandered through the dry, dusty remains, ducking under low doorways, walking still-intact walls like knights on duty, considering how it would appear from here, to see thousands of armed men approaching, bent on taking us down…and then how impenetrable the castle would have seemed back in the day. We climbed the sixty-some rock-hewn stairs that led us to the fortress within the fortress, San Giorgi, the keep. Inside, we climbed to the top and peered over the edge. My eyes followed a pair of falcons that hovered fifty feet away, riding the winds. I thought I’d rather be them than either crusader or Cathar. But what did it mean to follow where God led, even at the price of death? Both sides believed God was behind them. How could that be?
Arthur came up beside me and leaned his forearms on the edge of the wall. “How many men and women found themselves here because it truly was their holy calling, and how many came because everyone around them told them it was their holy calling?”
It was an impossible question, so I remained silent. But his words rang in my head. How much did we do in life that was the result of what others around us demanded? Rather than what God was calling us to do? What was God calling me to do? Here? Now?
Lord, show me. I’m Yours.
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