I promised I was going to talk about one my memories from my Cathar life that also turned out to be impressive, as it resulted in one of those instant verifications that now and then occurs. To do that, let us first go back to the medieval little village (whether is Termes or Carcassonne) that seems to have been my home at the beginning of 13th century.
I saw the medieval little village, with a stone stairway similar to the image of Termes I posted, but a bit wider, and with buildings at each side, I was going down. I saw a circular fountain, around three meters of diameter, possibly with spouts in the centre. Thinking how we carry the water, wooden buckets came to me, one at each side of the bar we put over the shoulders. I also saw myself with a basket going to the market to buy vegetables. We make the baskets ourselves. [In another flash from some night that I haven’t even noted down in my journal, I also saw myself with a quite large basket that hanged from my shoulder. And for some reason, I have an image of being making one of those baskets, interweaving the wicker strips, something I have never done in my life, as far as I remember].
Flash of a man riding on a horse that passed near, also in that steep street. I had the feeling it was not the same place I saw the other time, where I have the house and all the family gets together. I saw myself younger, maybe 20-25 years old, I have already had children.
Flash of a possible wedding, though the word “wedding” doesn’t come to me, but rather “we espouse”. It is not a pompous ceremony either, I only see my husband and I, he on the left, I on the right, wearing our normal clothes, in a very small and dark place, with someone that hears our vows, and that is all. I don’t know if he is a proper priest or not.
And then I did see myself in a church, also small, with stone light brown walls, and there am I with someone in front of some kind of table where he would start preaching. I am interested in what he says and I like to learn from him.
(Regression 4-1-2018)
I am the woman of the Cathar life, I always wear the same dress that is some kind of light-colored habit, but made of thick cloth, with a cord around the waist (I have seen that cord very clearly in other regressions, it is also of a white or ivory color, and it is rolled as if shaped like a plait, but they are only two cords, not three). I carry something on my right arm, I don’t know if it is a basket again or something heavier, and I am going out through the door of what looks like city walls, the road is a bit steep but it is wide. Then blocking the road I see a knight standing there, holding a horse by the bridle. The horse is on the right, I would say it is black or at least of a dark color. The knight wears a white livery with a red cross (a Templar?). I feel some apprehension seeing him there standing, a bit like when I see soldiers in the Second World War. I pass close to him, with my head low, he is quite taller than I am, and when I am passing he says, “Don’t come back here anymore” (it always comes to me in English). He is not saying it in a threatening tone, but rather as if he is advising me. I intuit he knows what I am. I ask him, “Why?” But he doesn’t want to answer, so he says: “Just pay heed to me, woman”.
I had the intuition I was in Carcassonne, but I am not certain.
Then I saw some quite colorful images of the village and the mountainous surroundings, all beautiful, the typical medieval little village as always, and I see myself arriving to a house, but again it doesn’t seem to be the house I have when I am married, I have the impression that in these memories I am quite younger, though it is hard to specify my exact age. Flashes of a medieval market come to me, where I suppose I go assiduously. I mainly see hens hanging with feathers and all from ropes, to sell, and, obviously, I realize we reject that and we don’t eat animals at my home. But at the same time I feel weird because I know we are persecuted for being different. I see myself asking someone why we don’t kill animals. He is a very tall and thin man, I think he is my uncle, he tells me that is bloodshed and therefore it is not right. There is an environment of fear, because there is a reason the knight told me that, of course, possibly there have already been fires or some Cathars have been in trouble. So I tell him I am scared, but he says to me I must never be afraid of doing what is right. And mentally I move to the last moments of this life, where I am not sure that has worked, that thing about not being scared, I mean… Then another flash came to me, in which I see myself with someone else (maybe another woman) firmly closing one of those big double doors with a log in the middle to bar them. I guess this is when we have to lock ourselves up in the fortress.
Then came to me the face of quite an unpleasant man. He is near fifty years old, quite short, with a tonsure and deep wrinkles in his face (vertical, at the sides of his mouth), black habit. He is a man that is “lurking” in the town, I think he is clearly an inquisitor. He goes around asking everybody, and, of course, most of us deny everything and dissimulate, attending the Catholic masses and all that, but the risk of someone deciding to speak and accusing others of heresy is always there. This causes tension, as is logical, and we don’t want this man to be there. I see myself behind a group of people (no more than twenty) that are gathered listening or attending something. On the background there is a wall (maybe a house), the inquisitor is on the right and there is another man on the left, it seems he is using him as an example or something like that, perhaps he has confessed something or perhaps he has repent of being a Cathar, but I fail to clarify this. After that, I see I am inside a dark house, I am sitting on a bench, very close to the wall on the right side of the house, and on the background (at my right) there is a table where this man is working. I have the feeling we all have the obligation to go through this and answer his questions. (It reminded me a bit when I was small and I had to confess before the communion, I had no idea what to say). But I didn’t see anything else.
I tried to get more information about my sons and what happened to them, but nothing came to me.
I must say though, that when I was with the knight, the name Trencavel came to me, in relation to the city. Since I read it in the books it is a name that resonates with me a lot and gives me good vibrations, but for the moment I don’t know if it had a special meaning for me. [In fact, Raimundo Trencavel was one of the great protectors of Cathars in Carcassonne].
Oh, I forgot to comment one thing. In a given moment it seemed to me that the supposed inquisitor carried a sword, though he would rather use it as a staff and while he talked he would put it on the floor in front of him. I know the sword was later a part of the emblem of the Inquisition, but I have no idea if inquisitors indeed carried one with them as some kind of symbol.
Pierre de Castelnau (? - died 15 January 1208), French ecclesiastic, was born in the diocese of Montpellier.
He was archdeacon of Maquelonne, and in 1199 was appointed by Pope Innocent III as one of the legates for the suppression of the Cathar heresy in Languedoc. In 1202, he became a Cistercian monk at the abey of Fontfroide, Narbonne, and was confirmed as Apolastic legate and first inquisitor, first in Toulouse, and afterwards at Viviers and Montpellier.
In 1207 he was in the Rhone valley and in Provence, where he became involved in the strife between the count of Baux and Raymond VI, Count of Toulouse. Castelnau was assassinated on 14 January 1208, quite possibly by an agent of Raymond. His murder was the immediate cause of Raymond's excommunication and the start of the Albigensian Crusade.
He was beatified in the year of his death by Pope Innocent III, who held Raymond responsible. The relics of Pierre de Castelnau are interred in the church of the ancient Abbey of St-Gilles.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pierre_de_Castelnau
And now, please someone come and explain to me how I can know so much of something that happened over 800 years ago in a country I don’t even know.