Montfort
Theseus is a hero from Greek myth. I imagine you remember he slayed the Minotaur. Of course, you will have an echo in your mind that the Minotaur was hidden in a Labyrinth. There used to be a bronze plaque at the centre of the pavement Labyrinth in Chartres cathedral depicting Theseus. Do you know who built that original Labyrinth on the island of Crete? Or why? I suppose if you look for images of Theseus in art or literature, you will find a resemblance to Adonis – or perhaps to Michelangelo's David. Perhaps blond curls. Certainly a well-muscled torso. A strong chin, a gaze fixed on eternity …
Theseus was raised far from his natural father by his mother alone. She withheld his father's name – Aegeus, King of Athens – until Theseus proved himself worthy in a trial of strength. Theseus then journeyed through adversity to his father's court at which his father's second wife – the witch Medea – almost persuaded the old man to poison his son.
The Athenians had recently lost a war with King Minos of Crete. In penance they were obliged to send 7 young women and 7 young men each year on an appointed day to be devoured by the Minotaur. Theseus volunteered to be amongst the men, despite his father's opposition.
The miserable company set out in a ship with black sails. Aegeus persuaded his son that, should he survive, the ship should be rigged with white sails on the return journey as a signal of success.
Ask youself: Why did King Minos keep this monster in shameful seclusion and feed it on the innocent? It's a complex and startling story …
Zeus, the king of the gods, saw the princess Europa playing with her maids on a beach. He fell in love with her and disguised himself as a white bull to approach her. Europa put flowers around his horns and climbed on his back. Zeus carried her off to Crete. He took human shape once more and raped her.
Pasiphaë was the name of the child born to Europa and Zeus. Years later King Minos of Crete took Pasiphaë as his queen. Queen Pasiphaë desired to have sex with a bull, so she asked a brilliant craftsman to make her a cow costume. The craftsman's name was Daedalus. Daedalus made the costume and the queen's desire was satisfied. She later gave birth to the Minotaur, a half-man, half-bull monster, grandson of the king of the gods.
To hide the monster, King Minos ordered that a Labyrinth should be built. He employed Daedalus to design and build the Labyrinth. When, years later, Theseus killed the Minotaur, Daedalus was forced to flee imprisonment with his son Icarus by making wings from feathers and wax. His son flew too close to the sun, the wax melted and Icarus fell to earth.
The hero Theseus – can we truly call him that? – returned in triumph to Athens. But he forgot to change the black sails to white. Theseus' father Aegeus, seeing the black sails on the horizon from his belvedere on the cliff top, threw himself onto the rocks below in his grief …
This chapter of my Inspirations concerns itself with the Crusader Simon de Montfort. Is there anyone for whom de Montfort remains a hero? Because that is undoubtedly what he was, at one time, for many people.
But he was a butcher, a vicious, authoritarian, pious fanatic.
Can his reputation ever be redeemed? Is it possible for him to be a hero once more? Or is he condemned to flip the coin and show his other face – the villain?
Crusades to the Holy Land were dangerous and survival doubtful. The alternative of 40 days service close to home proved popular. When Philippe d'Alairac, an early 14th century Cathar, saw Crusader indulgences sold in the street, he remarked with bitter irony:
'So! In return for killing other men, these men will be saved!'
A natural soldier and strategist, Simon de Montfort had taken part in the 4th Crusade to Constantinople. When the opportunity came to pillage the lands of Raymond VI, Count of Toulouse – considerably closer to home – he leapt at the chance.
The first pyre of the Albigensian Crusade took place at Casseneuil-en-Quercy in 1209. Guillaume de Tudèle – author of the first part of the Chanson de la Croisade – was amazed to find 'so many fine heretic ladies' among them. In 1211, the town of Lavaur was the seat of the Cathar bishop of Toulouse. At least 400 Bons Hommes – parfaits and parfaites – lived peaceably, openly in Lavaur. This peaceful, tolerant place was referred to by Catholics as 'the very seat of Satan and capital of heresy'.
In May of that year, Lavaur was taken by Simon de Montfort. The 400 Cathar parfaits were burnt alive on the largest communal pyre of the entire Crusade. Somebody, perhaps several Crusaders, egging one another on, sought out Guiraude, lady of Lavaur. She was thrown down a well. Still alive, stones were then thrown down on top of her until she was buried.
The point of this appalling, barbaric method of torture and execution was exemplary; no one could be in any doubt as to the horror and agony of such a death. Raimonde Jougla, a mid-13th century Cathar credens who recanted, explained succinctly why:
'When they brought me to the pyre, through fear of the flames I converted to the Catholic faith.'
But Simon was a hero, wasn't he, to his people?
