Finding Mary Magdalene Blog Series.
“Languedoc, Part 1: The Fortified Medieval Castle of Carcassonne”
Originally Published: June 12, 2014
Because of my hotel mishap in Les Maries, I had an extra day at my disposal. I decided to use that as an opportunity to spend a night in Arles.
Arles has a reputation for being one of the most charming cities in southern France; and boy, does it live up to its reputation! Teeming with life and verve, Arles was the final home and inspiration for some of van Gogh’s most famous paintings. It sits along the Rhone and has been colonized by many peoples, most notably, the Romans. It at once feels very Italian–complete with a fully intact Roman amphitheater–yet oozes French charm.
Hôtel - Musée, my hotel for the night, provided me with the perfect backdrop to complete my French Country Dream. Chic, warm and cozy, my room smelled of lavender. Aged green shutters opened up to a glorious view of the quaint patio below that was adorned with jasmine, roses and climbing vines; terracotta tiles and cast iron patio furniture.
I spent the evening walking in a dream world. I found a neighborhood cafe and quickly made myself at home. A glass of wine and fondue, and viola, my life was complete.
I awoke the next morning with a sadness in my heart, and made my way to Nîmes.
Nîmes is also a former Roman colony, but has the underlying feeling of brute force, lacking the quaint charm of Arles. I stayed an uneventful night there, before heading to my final pilgrim site, Carcassonne.
Carcassonne cite is a fortified medieval city that embodies, among other historically important events and peoples, the wisdom of the Cathars and Templars.
After plopping my stuff in the hotel, I decided to spend the rest of the afternoon exploring the medieval castle at the heart of the city. I made my way over the ancient bridge that connected the ville basse with the cite. I explored the park on either side of the river, quietly listening for the hushed voices of the city’s guardians. Following their lead, I sat near the river, digging my hands into the moist earth, absorbing the centuries of history that had traversed this land.
Feeling the “call of the castle,” I made my way to an ancient pathway, that I imagined once welcomed returning heroes along its route. Overgrown with weeds and wildflowers, remnants of the ancient stone way remain. I looked up and felt the brute strength it took to build these walls. I felt the sweat of the hundreds of men who spent their lives building this fortress, in service of the kingdom. And then I sensed him; a knight who had returned from battle, longing to be in the embrace of his secret lover. His presence so strong, I wondered: was that me in a past life?
A force compelled me further along the path. No longer in everyday use, I wondered if I had discovered a secret portal to another realm. I climbed, and to my surprise, found myself at an entry point beyond the first layer of castle walls.
I was called to a large, non-descript wooden door. Reaching out to touch the door, I remembered. I remembered what it was like to be her, the princess or nobelwoman awaiting her knight, in secret. Their love affair, forbidden. In a flash, the entirety of their romance and tragic end came into my consciousness, as I felt her anticipation, and her pain. Every corner I turned, contained more memories of their romance: their hopes and dreams, and their love.
In my heart, I could hear her say, “I am sorry my love. Please forgive me. I am so sorry.” Tears flooded my eyes, and I felt immense pain for the hurt she had caused this man.
And so, with the encouragement of Mary, I prepared myself to do a ceremony in remembrance, and to release this past trauma. I didn’t know where or how, but I knew the answer would come to me in time.
Continuing on, I toured the contours of the castle. I explored the Basilique of Sainte Nazaire, discovering a magnificent life-size marble engraving of a Knight Templar, supposed protectors of the Cathars. At the right of this knight, stood a statue of Saint Anna, my patron saint, sitting with her young daughter, the Virgin Mary. Stained glass windows seemed to contain the symbols, and messages, of a suppressed wisdom.
For dinner, I splurged on a fabulous pork cassoulet, famous cuisine from the region.
As the sun began to set, I decided to head home. However, my path took me just along the outside of the castle walls. Heeding her call, Mary had found a place for me to perform a small ceremony, softly illuminated by the last remaining orange and pink rays of sun.
Not-so-elegantly, I waded through the tall grass, reaching out toward the castle wall for support. I pulled out my stones–some of which I had found earlier by the river–and looked out over the town below. Crying, I felt a burden lift from my spirit.
Upon my descent, I took the same route down, as I had up. Acknowledging that this was the last time I would ever need to walk these steps, I left a poppy in the wall–a gift she would have given him long ago–as a remembrance of the love shared between the star-crossed lovers.
As I approached the parking lot, the sun had nearly set, and I turned to have one more glance at the castle. In my mind’s eye, I could see the couple waiving me goodbye. Happy and liberated, they were free to live in their bliss for eternity, and I free to find my own.
That night, I slept well. With two more days left, and many sites still to visit, I felt at peace, and wondered what the next days would bring.
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