Peyrusse le Roc, Charlemagne's dad conquered this area

In our trip to France we visited some obscure sites. One that gets a lot of blank stares, even from Frenchmen, is when I say I visited Peyrusse le Roc.

I happened to find a listing of it while browsing through the Michelin Green Guide for Languedoc Rousillon Tarn Gorges. I had been considering visiting Peyrepertuse during our trip and saw the nearby heading of Peyrusse le Roc. There was a mention of ruins and that the area had once been conquered by Pepin le Bref, better known as the father of Charlemagne.

Ultimately we did not visit Peyrepertuse. In the guides were warnings about severe winds and safety. If the winds are too strong, tourists are not allowed to climb the ruins. The drive to get to Peyrepertuse would have been about three hours. I did not like the idea of driving that far with no guarantee about whether or not we could even climb the ruins once we got there.

Instead, I chose to visit ruins which I hoped might date back to the eight century and had a link to the Carolingian dynasty.

The Michelin Green Guide said that the site was closed on Mondays. As it turns out, the ruins are always accessible. It is the tourist office that is closed on Mondays and, like elsewhere in France outside of Paris, it is closed between the hours of noon to two as well. The tourist office sells a brochure with pictures and a brief history of Peyrusse le Roc for 3.5 Euros. (At least that was the price two years ago.)

Getting to Peyrusse le Roc was an adventure all in itself.

The village is about two and a half hours north of Toulouse and about half an hour south of Figeac in a region known as the Rouergue.

Before our trip to France we purchased a Garmin Nuvi as well as a package of French maps. I was unable to find Peyrusse le Roc either by the site indexes or by even typing in the name. As far as my GPS unit was concerned, Peyrusse le Roc did not exist. We were left to navigate our route the old-fashioned, low tech way: maps and road markers.

We kept the GPS unit on just to show us what road we were on, and at one point I laughed because it stopped doing just that. It appeared as if we were traveling overland as the D287 looked as if it disappeared.

It didn't but the satellite did not seem to recognize that fact.

Here is an aerial view via Google maps so you can get a sense of the area.


View Larger Map



Only upon arriving at the village did the Garmin reluctantly acknowledge its name.

The village itself is small and very quiet.
It was the only village in France where I did not see a boulangerie or a charcuterie. Nor did I see any restaurants.

I was glad we packed a picnic lunch.

The present day village is on the hilltop and to get to the ruins, you wind up walking up and down steep grades. Over the course of that day I walked inclines more times than I care to remember. My knees and shins were complaining that day and the next.


Talking with the woman in the Tourist office was of little help in my research. She spoke no English and so our communication was based solely on my limited French skills. I wanted to know what was still standing that was conquered by Pepin le Bref. As I said his name, she perked up and nodded in recognition. However, I could not convey to her the essence of my inquiry. Alas, she resorted to telling me again and again where to start my tour.



Their tourist guide indicates that the first mention of Pétrucia (a previous name for Peyrusse le Roc) was in 767 when Pepin le Bref advanced in Aquitaine in pursuit of Duke Waiffre. I discovered that Pétrucia was a previous name by a quick Google search. At first I thought it was the name of an unfamiliar historian.

I found a monograph titled: PETRUCIA-PERYUSSE (Histoire politique, administrative, économique et sociale d'une commune française)
It is available for 35 Euros.

The following is an automated translation, forgive any irregularities. At least it does not include references to convents of chocolate éclairs.

"A site as impressive as Peyrusse-le-Roc, situated at an altitude of 465 m, with the remains of the ancient and imposing Rupes Peruciae and walking paths, also riding high, has even today in early ^3rd millennium, an evocative dramatic. This is even more sensitive for someone who, as the author of this work, has ancestral links with the locality, once formidable fortress, "eagle's nest surrounded by a fortified wall" is found, Indeed, the evidence in this book, a notary Gleyrose in 1598, a Mr. Jean-Louis Gleyrose, practitioner in 1778 and a citizen Gleyrose Mayor in 1793. Here, the ties of blood feeding the aesthetic emotion and passion of the researcher and we are more surprised than Paul Gleyrose, descendant of the above, we present here a dense monograph also includes the history of Petrucia-Peyrusse, origins prehistoric till the year 1900, with its colors of epic (role of the city in the war against the English), but also its demographic, economic and social (poverty of some of the inhabitants, after 1789, and "lack of relations" with the surrounding villages) and a complete and detailed portrait of the little town in the late ^nineteenth century, once important capital of royal bailiwick, a clear vision and contrast always faithful to the documents d 'archive.
Long the city, the preferred site, named in official documents, sometimes Oppidum Petruciae, Villa Petruciae, Rupes Peruciae or Castrum Petruciae derives its power from its topography, albeit at a price of almost incessant wars, the eighth ^century (seat of Pepin the Short) through ^sixteenth (unsuccessfully attacking the Calvinists in 1568), through acts of armed resistance against the agents of the kingdom (XII ^century), the Albigensian war (early XIII ^century), the long conflict between France to England (XIV ^century) and the struggle of two rival factions, the Armagnacs and the Burgundians (XV ^century). Reporting directly to the counts of Rouergue, because of its position high up, she sees her fate tied to them (from 849) until the royal sovereignty necessary, with Hugh Capet and his descendants. But from the ^sixteenth century, lost its place as a stronghold (discovery of gunpowder, advances in artillery, pacified regions around), Peyrusse its activity will fall until 1789, while tax burdens, they , heavy. The abolition of privileges is greeted with joy by the inhabitants, but "no drop of blood was shed (the city) during the Revolution." In 1848, the communal life "seems to get some momentum," the ways of improving communication: Peyrusse the beautiful, picturesque village Aveyron, becomes little by little, aflaming torch high in the past."

As we came upon the ruins, my husband took one look at the structure and announced that he was not climbing it. He also said that my life insurance policy was up-t0-date and if I wanted to climb it to go right ahead.

I was thrilled to hear that sentiment.

If you look closely you can see a rickety ladder leading up to the top of that rock. Then there is a skimpy little railing that surrounds the top portion.


I decided against climbing it. I took copious pictures from beneath and did not wish to discover firsthand the wonders of the French health care system.

We were told by a couple who were return visitors that on Bastille Day firecrackers are set off at the top of these ruins. I cannot imagine climbing up or down those ladders in the dark. The thought of setting off explosive devices on that summit....YIKES!











Here is an even closer look at the stairs and surrounding fence.













I am reprinting the top photo so you can see the brave soul standing on the top of the big rock. That was not me. Although I do think the view from up there would have been spectacular.

There was an artist's rendering on the back of the tourist guide showing a wooden structure with a pitched roof between the two towers. I do not think that castle could have been thought of as spacious or comfortable. I can also only imagine how many fatalities occurred during the construction of that edifice.



The guide also says that this iconic structure dates to the 11th century, so that is past the time of Pepin le Bref. I do not know what was standing that Pepin conquered, but most likely it was destroyed. Either at the time or over the centuries.


To take those pictures I first had to walk down a steep hill to get to the base of the ruins.


Beneath the structure is the sign designating it as the Château inférieur. Clicking on the photo will enlarge it for you so that you should be able to make out the words including "de l'epoque carolingienne."



After taking my pictures at the base of the chateau, I went through a doorway in the wall that surrounded it and ventured onward and downward.

Next up was the ruins of Notre Dame de Laval. Here is the marker for that.


Here are ruined pointed arches that are now covered with foliage.




This next picture you can see where the church ruins are in relation to the Château inférieur. Just look at the top of the picture to see the familiar tower.

I love this next picture because it is a jumble of stones and vegetation. As if the earth is slowly reclaiming its bones from Man.


Here is another picture of the church's ruins with various shadows playing over its remains.



Next are the ruins from a hospital dating back to 1213.

Here are two signs denoting its significance.


Here is the exterior of the hospital which does not look all that bad, but...


from another angle you can see that it is not fit for patients to be seen today.


Then the path curved and I discovered moss covered steps leading back to the village.


There were some structures not in ruin such as the beffroi, what we call a belfry.



Here I am at the end of the day after walking up and down the hill to the village one too many times.

Puycelsi, l'un des plus beaux villages en France

In the process of reconstructing my trip to France, I have now come to our visit to Puycelsi.

I had tried balancing our trips from the home base of a cottage near Monclar-de-Quercy so that I did not schedule long roads trips one day after another. The previous day we had visited the medieval walled city of Carcassonne and so for this Tuesday I wanted to visit something closeby.

Our day started at a slower pace than the previous ones and I had to take into account that in France (outside major cities such as Paris) that everything other than restaurants are closed between noon and two. Since we had such a late start I knew we would be arriving around that two hour black out period, so I needed to choose someplace that I would not need to ask anyone any questions.

I chose to visit Puycelsi as our first stop of our day.

Puycelsi was a fun visit because I am not using as a location in my novel. It was disqualified because there is another town nearby that fits into my timeline better. Bruniquel dates back to the time of the Romans and Puycelsi was founded in the eleventh century, well after the time of Charlemagne. Whenever possible I used settings that were present at the time of my story, but I had to make a few exceptions when my plot needs trumped reality.

The poet Ariosto in his epic poem Orlando Furioso concealed an enchanted castle inside a forest that was "close" to Montauban. In looking at maps, it is difficult to overlook the massive Forêt de Grésigne due east of Montauban. The various locales chosen to use in my adaptation had this vast forest as its focal point.

My itinerary for that Tuesday was to do some sightseeing in Puycelsi, drive through the Forêt de Grésigne and then arrive at Saint-Antonin-Noble-Val where I could do my fact finding mission. (We had gone to Saint Antonin two days before just to attend their farmers market, but had not discovered the historic sites such as the vestiges of their abbey dating back to the time of Pepin le Bref.)

That was my plan, but things did not work out that way.

Anyway, looking at two dimensional maps does not give you the full sense of what awaits you.

Puycelsi is a hilltop village and here is what we saw while climbing the road and first spied our destination.


Here is a closer shot of that village that has been declared by France to be one of its most beautiful villages or les plus beaux villages.



To earn that designation a village has to go through a selection process that consists of four stages and one of the first qualifications is that it must have less than 2,000 residents and at least two historical monuments.

Puycelsi is a beautiful village.

The wall surrounding the village once had a dozen towers as part of its fortifications.


Here you can see the remaining wall and get a sense of the panoramic view of the valley floor below as well as the forest.


Next to that same wall were a few parked cars. People who live in medieval villages still require modern conveniences such as cars and a place to park them. (We had to park in a visitors lot outside the village proper.)


Here is a private garden behind a residence. Imagine living here and being able to see for miles from your bedroom window.



The brickwork on this dwelling made me nervous. To my eyes it appears that the stones have shifted since they were laid and I wonder about its structural integrity. Then again, that is not my problem!

Here you can see an old stairway whose stones have become worn over the centuries, but it is still used to traverse around the village.


I love the sundial on the side of this building.



And the simple beauty of colorful flowers scaling a wall.


Here is the Chateau du Capitaine Royal...



and its historical marker.


This is the Chapel de Saint Roch which now houses the tourist office. Because we visited between noon and two, it was closed.



Here is its entrance and you can see a statue dedicated to Saint Roch.



A closer shot of another obscure saint that I had never heard of before.

Due to the wonders of the internet, I have discovered that Saint Roch is not only a patron saint of dogs and dog lovers, but of pestilence. He also goes by the name of Rock, Rocco, Rollox, Roque and Rochus. Saint Roch had been born to French nobility, but left that behind as he dedicated himself to treating the sick. In doing so, he became infected with the plague as well and a dog befriended the pious man which wound up leading to his recovery.

He also had a birthmark with the sign of a cross on his chest.

As you look down from Puycelsi you can see the village of Larroque, which I believe might also be named after that dog loving saint.

If you look closely you can also see hay that had been harvested into big rolls near the road.


Here is another breathtaking panoramic view as seen from the top of Puycelsi.


Here is an historical marker affixed to the old Chapel de Saint Roch detailing the origins of Puycelsi to around the year 1000.


Later we wound up driving past the small town of Larroque and here is the same village shown previously but from ground level.


Here are the gray and orange colored hills over the town of Larroque.



After leaving Puycelsi, we started on my planned excursion through the forest.

I had discovered a large map of the forest in the plethora of tourist guides collected by our hosts and left in the cottage. I was certain that I could navigate our way through the complex maze of paths crisscrossing through the woods.

:shakes head:

I could never figure out where we were on that huge thing. And the Michelin map did not help either.

It seemed like a simple enough plan, yet it was not. Here is one sign that we saw, but I did not want to take either direction. I thought that the fork in the road I sought would only be a little farther ahead.


Soon we found ourselves on a rural path with sharp gravel stones and my husband began grumbling about the potential of our tires getting punctured and stuck in the wilderness with no cell phone coverage to call for help.

The day before I had lost confidence in our GPS system in devising a route that would take us from Point A to Point B without sending us on goat paths.

We drove around and around in the forest without really seeing much other than tall trees.

Any thoughts I had of possibly scheduling a horse back ride in the forest went out the window as I assumed that Scott would not want to set foot anywhere near the Forêt de Grésigne again during that trip.

If nothing else, it made me realize that even though my heroine should have a strong sense of direction that it would not be implausible for her to get lost in a dense forest if she was exhausted and dehydrated. I was neither exhausted or dehydrated and I had two maps and a GPS unit, but I still became flummoxed.

It was the only time during our whole trip that I was uncertain which way to go. It was an unpleasant feeling and my husband's nerves were rubbed raw by this experience.

Ultimately we came out on the south end of the forest on the opposite side of Saint-Antonin-Noble-Val and I decided that it would take too long to visit that village that day.

We still had some time for information gathering, and so I chose to use the remaining time to visit Bruniquel since it was nearby. It was named after a Visigothic princess who once made the village her home. She married a grandson of Clovis and became known as Queen Brunehaut (Brunhilda). She had been regent of Austrasia three times in her life and a portion of her life story was chronicled by Gregory of Tours' History of the Franks.

After learning Brunehaut's life story, any fanciful thoughts I had as a child of what it would be like to be a princess is no longer in the realm of "fairy tale" but instead more in the realm of Greek or Shakespearean tragedy.

Her story of power, betrayal, vengeance and tragic demise as well as pictures of Bruniquel I shall save for another day.

St. Antonin-Noble-Val from Celts to Romans to the movies

I have not given up on trying to catalog the various sites we visited last year in France on my research trip for my novel.

It is simply finding time to blog amongst all the other things that vie for my attention.

As I left off, my husband and I had spent a busy week in Paris visiting what seems like endless churches, museums and historical sites. Then we picked up our lease vehicle and drove south to the Midi-Pyrenees region after first stopping off to visit Guédelon. So we were in need of a rest and I had promised my husband that we would have a "down day" and not have to go fact finding.

That was my intention. Then we started chatting with our hosts Michael and Sarah about when farmers markets were held in the different towns and villages nearby.

So we set off to see Saint-Antonin on Sunday because of their market. We wound up going to this beautiful little village three separate times during our stay, because we enjoyed it so much. Twice for their market and once for information gathering from their tourist office.

The tourists to Saint-Antonin (or to the Midi-Pyrenees region in general) are mostly Brits and Dutch and most are there to simply soak up the beauty, but few ask the pointed questions I did about their history and legends. And seldom are there American tourists in this region, which I think is a shame because this area of France is wonderful.

Saint Antonin is situated at the confluence of the Aveyron and Bonnett Rivers and was called Condat during the Celtic period. Later, the Romans thought this was a "noble valley" and so the area was called Noble Val.

Then comes the legend of Saint Antonin which unfortunately is not listed in the online list of Catholic saints. There are many Saint Anthonys, but I once went through and checked each one and none had a story like this one that was given to me by the Tourist Office.

According to legend, the first evangelist arriving in Rouergue was St. Antonin. (sic) He was rapidly successful in his task and in spite of pleas of the inhabitants of Noble Val, he wanted to move on and carry the gospel on to Pamiers, his homeland. (sic)

Due to my L.O.O.N.ish tendencies I must interject here that any missionary would not be called a saint during his or her lifetime, and the town of Pamiers was not named that at the time. Prior to the time of the Crusades, the town was Frédélas.

Antonin then went back to Frédélas in the hope of converting people to Christianity from whence he came. The people were not as receptive and he was beheaded and dismembered. Then comes the miracle, his remains were placed in a boat and two white eagles guided the boat which

"slid miraculously on the waters of the river and followed the Tarn and the Aveyron upstream. The boat stopped finally at the confluence of the Averyon and the Bonnett Rivers...

At that time, there was a rich and powerful count called Festus who ruled the 'Noble Val' of the Averyon valley. He recognised the hand of God in this wonderful voyage and laid the remains of the martyr in an impressive shrine where later an abbey was erected on the site."

The town credits the founding of the abbey to Pepin le Bref, better known as Charlemagne's father. Here is a picture of the historical marker which marks the spot of an abbey that was founded by a powerful Frankish king.





And this is what is left of that abbey.


Not much, eh? And no, it is not the steps, just the few pitiful stones left in a heap that the gardeners have to mow around.

One more historical marker just for good measure to show that at one time there was an abbey here that reportedly dates back to the time of Charlemagne which is the time period for my story.


The town furthermore states that this was one of "three great Benedictine abbeys in the region of Rouerge with Conques and Vabres."

I had chosen to set the climax of my story in Saint Antonin because I needed a town in close proximity to other settings. I also needed to have an abbey. To find out that Saint Antonin not only had an abbey, but having it date back to Pepin le Bref was wonderful news to me. It validated my choice.

And since no one can tell me what the town looked like when the abbey was around, I am free to make it bend to my plot necessities.

The tourist office provided a map of the town and one feature to note was this stone engraving that is over someone's doorway that was supposed to have been taken from the crumbling abbey. Recycling if you will.


I believe it is supposed to be Jonah being swallowed by a whale.

The village had been named Saint Antonin for many centuries, but according to our guide it was in the 1950s that it was decided to add the words Noble Val to pay homage to its historical roots.

Thus the full name of this village is Saint-Antonin-Noble-Val.

According to the Michelin Green Guide the population is less than 2,000. However in comparison to the surrounding area, it seems like it is a big town and the farmers market was quite popular.

There were several streets that were filled with merchant stalls. Here is a picture of spices that unfortunately there is not the accompanying heady smell.



One vendor had about fifty different kinds of olives. Or perhaps it merely seemed that way, but alas we did not take a picture of his wide variety that seemed to stretch farther than many salad bars I have seen.

This picture is taken from the beginning of the market which stretched down the length of this street and spilled out onto another street.


There were fruits, vegetables, breads, meats, fish, sausages, clothes, leather goods, books, baskets, jewelry, and even kittens.

We had to stop when we saw kittens. I said the universal "awwwwe" when I picked up one of the kitties. The young woman then asked if I would like one.

I had to reply, "Je desolée. Je habite en Californie." Her eyes grew wide and then seemed to understand.

She did allow us to take a picture of her.




Here I am with the cute little one. I just love the little pink tongue hanging out. Of course he had just been drinking some milk right before I picked him up.

Then there were vendors who sold wine. You could buy a bottle of wine or bring your own and have it filled.



Then :shudders: they also had boxed wine.

That is just. So. Wrong.

I hate it that there is boxed wine available for sale in Sonoma County and/or the thought that some of the grapes grown here might be used to make wine stored in polystyrene. It just seems sacrilegious that there should be such things in France.

As for the town itself, it has a marvelous medieval charm about it. The buildings are old and stone, the streets are narrow.


People live in the town itself and it is a bit scary when cars are traversing the narrow passageways. Here you can see what passes for a driveway before someone's home.


Here is a view of the center of the village on a non-market day.

If it looks somewhat familiar, perhaps you have seen the movie Charlotte Gray which was filmed in Saint Antonin. It is a World War II film and the filmmakers had Nazi tanks coming down this very street with that hall in the background. I am amazed that they were able to maneuver tanks down that street.

Charlotte Gray is a good film, and whether or not you like the story or the acting, you cannot fault the beauty of the landscape that is shown.

On another post I will show you the Aveyron gorges. I just tried to upload those pictures, but got an error code from Blogger. I think I shall stop now before it eats another post of mine.