The Hunting of Heretics: The Cathars

The term "Cathars" was never used by those who simply called themselves Les Bonhommes, or Good Christians. While some scholars have claimed the word comes from the Greek Kataroi, meaning the Pure Ones, others, most notably Nicolas Gouzy of the Centre d'Etudes Cathares in France, have suggested that the name was more comparable to an insult deriving from the German "die Ketzerei" meaning "cat worshippers" and indeed in the iconography of the Middle Ages they were almost always accompanied by cats, a symbol of evil for all of Christendom at the time. They have also been often referred to as The Albigenses, after the chronicler Geoffrey of Vigeous in 1181, especially in the scholarly literature. But this too may be a misnomer as the town of Albi was not notably Cathar with the greatest concentration of believers to the south and south east of the Languedoc and towards the foothills of the eastern Pyrenees.

Why were the Cathars (and for ease of recognition, I'll use this term throughout) such a threat to the Roman church that it was deemed necessary to persecute and exterminate them in their hundreds, perhaps thousands?

Notable in the Cathar writings of the 13th century we find this:

"The Roman church is not ashamed to say that they are the lambs of Christ. They say that the heretics they persecute are the church of wolves. But this is absurd. The wolves have always pursued and slaughtered the sheep. It would have to be the contrary for the sheep to be so mad as to hunt down and kill the wolves, and for the wolves to be so passive and patient as to let the sheep devour them."

The early 11th century brought about a crisis of faith. The world had not ended with the Millennium as most expected it to do according to prophecy. The clergy were seen as corrupt, seeking only power and riches; the Latin litany droned on with no-one understanding a word. No-one spoke Latin anymore and comprehension of the mass was reserved only for those who could read and write in that language; this did not even seem to include some of the priests themselves who used onlywell-used psalms and prayer books. In fact, as I shall mention later, the ownership of a bible was a capital offence since it pre-supposed heretical interests! People began to speak openly of the inconsistencies of the Catholic faith and Catholic practices. They spoke out about the usury of the church; of the fees collected by avaricious churchmen and their superstitious rites. The moneys they collected for holy water, oil, and earth for burial. Ordinary people began to move away from the massive cathedrals and abbeys and began to go - as the comedian Lenny Bruce has termed the 20th century spiritual comparison - "...back to God".

What can the world be other than created by the devil, they said. They began to preach detachment from this realm whose prince was Satan and sought ways to "a new heaven, and a new earth where justice will dwell".
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The Good Men...

In this culturally and spiritually explosive atmosphere there appeared, seemingly in the early years of the 1100's an extraordinary movement whose Christian beliefs were noticeably different from those of the Catholics. It spread like a wildfire and lasted, with its believers living quite comfortably side by side with Catholics, for many years, but as they began to attract the notice of the papal church it became the custom to refer to them as "Manichaeans", just as the charges against Priscillian had also been that he was a follower of the Persian prophet Mani.

Despite what we have read about the throwing of early Christians martyrs to the lions, this was confined to relatively short periods of time and very specific emperors. A far worse fate was exclusion within the church. Early church writers seem to agree that religious liberty up to a certain point was a matter of personal choice. Hence we find Tertullian in the 3rd century in Ad Scapulum writing:

It is a fundamental human right, a privilege of nature, that every man should worship according to his own convictions. One man's religion neither harms nor helps another man. It is assuredly no part of religion to compel religion - to which free will and not force should lead us.

Soon after the adoption of Christianity as the state religion of Rome the persecution of people for holding different religious opinions began. In the year 38 Theodosias, soon after his baptism into Roman Catholicism, issued, with is co-emperors,the following edict which is worth quoting in full:

We, the three emperors, will that our subjects steadfastly adhere to the religion which was taught by St. Peter to the Romans...let us believe in one Godhead of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, of equal majesty in the Holy Trinity. We order that the adherents of this faith be called Catholic Christians. We brand all the senseless followers of the other religions with the infamous name of heretics, and forbid their conventicles assuming the name of churches. Besides the condemnation of divine justice, they must expect the heaviest penalties which our authority, guided by heavenly wisdom, shall think proper to inflict.

For the most part this meant excommunication. This was a serious matter. Ex-communication meant exclusion from God and delivery to Satan. It meant everlasting death, a far worse thing to countenance than simply the taking of life
However, in 381, Christians requested the emperor to strip the Manichaeans of their civil rights. By the end of the following year, the death penalty had been pronounced for all the Manichees. They were accused of magical and obscene practices.

And within five years of Theodosius' edict, the "heaviest penalty" had been enacted on Priscillian, Euchrotia and the others.
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After Priscillian...

With the Sueve occupation of Galicia, Priscillianism was more or less tolerated especially since the rejection of the Trinity was shared by both the Sueves who practiced Arianism and the Priscillianists, although initially, in the opening years of the fifth century, the barbarian invasions of Spain threw the whole Peninsula into confusion as the Sueves were for the most part pagan upon their entry into Spain. But those that followed mainstream Christianity were permitted to worship according to their own practices.

When they founded their kingdom in Galicia in 464, Arianism was the State religion rather than Roman Catholicism. There is nothing to suggest that the Arian bishops at this time were active in suppressing paganism. Priscillianism was tolerated as many of its beliefs were similar in fact to the state religion, and it was not until St. Martin of Braga (not to be confused with St. Martin of Tours), the Apostle of the Sueves, that Priscillianism is seen to be driven back underground. It is only after Recared the Visigoth's conversion to Catholicism in the mid 7th century that we cease altogether to hear anything about the Priscillianists.

But where did they go? Did they simply die out, or be absorbed by the Catholic church, a church notably antipathetic and entirely different to their views?
Or did the movement go underground, only to re-appear as a synthesis somewhere else, somewhere where Priscillianism had had a distinct foothold 800 years before? Did Priscillian survive in the guise of the Good Men?
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A monstrous deed...

Going directly to meet with then new emperor was clearly a grave mistake as the charges against Priscillian now included witchcraft as well as heresy, and witchcraft was a capital crime. The Priscillianists had estates, money; Maximus needed to pay his war debts. He had no need of further difficulties with his bishops and even less interest in church matters. Instead of receiving the fair hearing they expected, their case was handed over to the secular arm for judgement. Priscillian's execution could only benefit the Emperor who was seriously short of cash. He made no move to stop the court proceedings.

Priscillian and his followers, including Eucrotia, the widow of a Roman noble with estates at Elusa in southern France, was beheaded at Trier in either 385 or 386, the first Christians martyred by those who were Christians themselves. Ambrose of Milan, Pope Siricius, and Martin of Tours protested against Priscillian's execution. But Priscillian had, fatally, presented his case outside of the ecclesiastical court for “justice”; his persecutors had made a case for witchcraft and sorcery as well as heresy; and the former was a capital crime. For us today, the charges themselves may seem innocent enough: Priscillian had more than likely participated in some age old ritual common in the countryside which had clung to the old ways. Perhaps he was observed by someone for whom this was interpreted as a direct threat to the newly formed Roman Church. Perhaps that person or persons had an agenda of their own. We simply cannot determine truth from falsehood at this point.

Priscillian’s “confession” was extracted under torture. He confessed to "magical" practices, meetings at night with women, and praying naked. All of these were likely true. But it was the demonic interpretation put upon them by the Catholic inquisitors which were to lead to the death penalty. Priscillian and six of his closest followers, including Euchrotia were executed according to the Roman law.

However, Priscillianism, despite the very strict measures taken by Maximus to contain it, continued to spread in Gaul, especially on both sides of the foothills of the Pyrenees, as well as in Spain in general, and northern Spain in particular. For at least another hundred and fifty years we hear of synod after synod convened with the express purpose of dealing with the still existent Priscillianists. In 405, The Synod of Carthage, for example, endorsed use of force by the state if persuasion failed to convert the heretics. These were not exclusively Priscillianist as there were many deviations from the state religion of Roman Catholicism by this. Some simply vanished, some were absorbed into mainstream Catholicism.

Priscillian was long honored as a martyr, not as a heretic, especially in Galicia and what is now northern Portugal, where his body was reverentially returned from Trier. Prof. Chadwick and others, including myself, have made the tentative claim that the remains found in the early 9th century at the site rededicated to Saint James the Great— Santiago de Compostela - belong not to the apostle at all but to Priscillian. This, of course, is the mainstay of the historical thread of Pilgrimage to Heresy.
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Priscillian, the Cathars and Me

Hey! I'm back. Canada was wonderful and I had an opportunity to meet many old friends, some of which I haven´t seen in 20 years. I have written elsewhere that true friendship knows nothing about distance or time.

My paper at the Brock University Conference on Gnosticism was entitled "Priscillian, the Cathars and Me". If you have been following my ongoing research into the Camino de Santiago, you will know that I have written quite extensively about Priscillian of Avila in my book Pilgrimage to Heresy: Don´t Believe Everything They Tell You
But what was that "heresy"? And how does it affect today´s walkers on the Camino?

We are told that the Cathedral in Santiago de Compostela houses the mortal remains of St. James. But how true is that? To find out more, I invite you to look at my blogs over the last 14 months or so.

In the meantime, I thought you might like to share in what has become a personal journey towards Gnosticism.

Here is the first part of my paper:

A Child's Garden of Gnosticism

When I was four, I dreamt I met Jesus outside of our local village pub. He was nice, but neither meek, nor mild; quite stern in fact. I remember waking up with a sense that Jesus was telling me somehow to be very wary of what I as going to be taught.

As I grew, I devoured the Narnia chronicles of CS Lewis, which were just then being published, never once considering that Lewis was providing my thirsty young mind with allegory. It didn't matter. To this day I maintain that I learned about honour, valour, love and nobility from the children in the books and their mentor, Aslan. He made more sense to me than Jesus.

Skip forward to age 12 and my first year of secondary school. In divinity class we had to write a composition about Jesus' visit to Jerusalem as a young boy. I decided to use a bit of licence and described the excitement of the young boys at the vanguard of the group of parents who followed behind. Just imagine, I thought, how they might have behaved each one vying to be the first to see the "spires" of the city. "I saw it first," says one; "No, I did," says Jesus. I was really proud if it when I handed it in and waited for the high grade I knew must come.

Now I've always written well; it comes naturally to me and so I was excited when the teacher handed back all of the compositions with the exception of mine. I can remember to this day the exact seat I was in, waiting with great anticipation to hear what a remarkable insight I had had into the everyday life of Jesus.

I was to be not only disappointed but roundly embarrassed in front of 25 other girls all of whom had their papers on the desk in front of them.

"But," said the teacher, "there is one that I simply must read out to you all," and picking up my composition began to tell my story. I was thrilled. At last, acknowledgement for my hard work and imagination.

Then she finished. And turned on me in such a fashion as I had never seen. How DARE I treat the Lord Jesus as though he were a normal child, what BLASPHEMY was this in her own class...she went on and on.

One part of me just wanted to slide under the desk and stay there for the next five years. But you know, the other part of me wanted to scream: "You are SO WRONG!"

To be continued...
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Camino Odyssey 14

Conspiracy theories? Probably not. But there is no doubt that the following message was tampered with enough to make it almost unreadable. Anyway, I have fixed it up now and hope that it remains that way.

Prepare to read about the mass before the Mass...

What is the Mozarabic Rite ?
In Galicia and in fact- many parts of Spain, the Roman mass was not heard. Instead, the liturgy was the Mozarabic, Visigothic or as it is sometimes called, the Hispanic Rite. By 1085, however, it had been suppressed in fravour of the mass most of us are familiar with today, though in Latin , of course.

The term Mozarabic Christians refers to those who were living in parts of Spain occupied by the Muslims. But in fact, it dates from before the Moorish invasion to the Visigoths who occupied all of the north of Spain, Galicia included. Some scholars believe it could be even older and that it may have been one of the earliest forms of the mass. There is every possibility that it is this that Priscillian would have celebrated as Bishop of Avila. This ancient rite has its own form of chant before Gregorian chant which postdates it by at least 300 years . You can you hear it on You Tube here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xoriS-KvjwI&feature=related .

The visual quality isn't the best, but in some ways it adds atmosphere to the early church. .It's hauntingly beautiful, Perhaps even more so because there is almost no-where in Spain now that you can hear it. This is from the Church of the Holy Martyr Santa Eulalia in Merida.

We have the earliest evidence for the rite from Isidore of Seville who died in 636. As the “Reconquista” began to take back more and more parts of Spain. , so the Mozarabic Rite gradually was taken over by the Roman one. In fact, by the end of the 8th century, it was already used in Catalonia , But it was not until 1071 that it was adopted in Navarra and Aragon. At this time , the Cluniac order was beginning to move into Spain with these monks. In 1076, it was adopted in Leon and Castile, and when the capital of Toledo was taken by Alfonso VI in 1085, the future of the Roman mass as the only one to be used seemed almost certain.

This was not immediately accepted by everyone, and Galicia, being the most north western kingdom did not want it at all. As I mentioned earlier in these posts it´s levying on the Gallego people may have caused real rebellion and bloodshed , and most likely , the deposition of a bishop, Diego Pelaez himself .

But what Pope Gregory VII said ewhat had to be, came to be, and what had to go, went. A French archbishop was appointed to the see of Toledo by the king and henceforth , it was the Roman mass Christians were expected to make their responses to. Everywhere. Officially .Whether they liked it or not.

In the late 15th century, Cardinal Cisneros of Toledo begin to restore the Mozarabic Rite in the historical cathedral of Toledo. By the late 19th Century, there were missals containing the new rite although scholars are not in agreement on how much of the original rite is contained in these.

In Toledo Cathedral, the Visigoth Mass is celebrated in the Mozarabic Chapel every day . There are a few more churches in Spain who have been given permission to hold this ancient Hispanic mass, but few do so .

I had hoped to be lucky enough to attend this mass. My pilgrim friend, Juan Frisuelos , had applied for, and got, permission from the archbishop to hold the mass at the closed convent in Escalona just to the north east of Toledo. His cousin "Paco" was an ordained priest and invited to officiate. Many members of the association of the Friends of Santiago were looking forward to this most unique opportunity.

However, it seemed was not to be.

Rivalries exist everywhere, and it appeared that the local priest was not too keen on the idea and said at the last minute special permission had to be applied for. So on the day the regular Catholic mass - though pilgrim with very distinct overtones - was celebrated. I have to admit I was rather disappointed, even though I found the crisp Castillano very easy to understand. During the blessing of the Eucharist I had some sort of epiphany as I suddenly realised the Gnostic Significance of the transubstantiation of bread and the wine. But I will not write of it here .

Afterwards we - Juan and his family and priests - not one but two - and me - all trooped back to Juan´s housewhere Maria, his mother , put on a veritable feast of the best paella I have ever had, topped off with a perfect home -made flan to die for. Me, and two priests! And I behaved myself admirably . I've never had after- church lunch with the vicar before! The talk was of food and practicalities and theological discussion was not entertained. Quite right too .

We watched the TV news item from my Toledo interview and there was not a fish in sight. I think I made sense, but I had never realised that I spoke Spainish with such an appallingly English accent! Though about the Mozarabic Mass, Juan was disappointed , and knew that I was disappointed. And so the next day ( Sunday ), we decided to drive to Toledo where we would be sure to catch it .

Not.

As it was the Feast of St. James it had been decided to hold a special "pilgrim mass". And that , of course , could not include anything which was not specifically Roman Catholic, even if the Visgothic Rite predated the Catholic one by hundreds in Galicia and most of the Way in general.

We were, however, allowed to enter into an area behind the rood screen which Juan told me was not normally open to the public.

What astonished me was the message of the liturgy: Pilgrims were from "all over the world, from all religions or none , the road did not end in Santiago but continued on to Finisterre and the end of the trail , and the best of all surprises : It did not matter who was buried in the cathedral because what mattered was what in pilgrim’s hearts.

Well , knock me down with a feather !

"But of course ", I hear you saying .

But this church has never taken this line and the reason why I am pretty well persona non grata in the Cathedral is because I have written and continue to speak about this. What this elderly priest in red was saying was exactly what I had been saying in newspapers, on TV and on the radio in the days leading up to this, the 25th of July the Day of St. James, the Patron of Spain (and not, by the way, the Patron of Compostela: that is San Roque, Santa Susana whose graffiti -covered church in the Alameda park is a disgrace, abandoned and forgotten.

I cast a quizzical eye at Juan. Afterwards, He said: "It is the way of the Catholic Church Bureaucracy. They will do anything to save face. "

Well , well ...Did I touch a clerical nerve or two?

I do hope so.

This will be my last blog post for a month as I am off again on book promotion for Pilgrimage to Heresy in Canada, but I'll be back in September ready to take up again the story of how the Way came to be, so I do hope you will drop by. In the meantime there are more than 100 posts about the Camino and related items here and I am sure you will enjoy a browse.

Until then, "goodbye".
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Camino Odyssey 8

I thought I had plenty of time to drive from Viloria to Logroño for my first interview at 1:15. That is until Begoña from the publishers called and said she had one more - at 12:30, a live interview on a radio show: a "phone in".

Naturally I ran into traffic and road works. So as it was I was only just entering the city when my phone rang. There was nothing for it. I took a swift right into the first parking place I saw.

It was a bus stop.

There were people waiting at the bus stop.

Too late: I was already "En directo"!

Now doing phone in interviews in a language which is not your own is never easy, especially live ones.

But from a bus stop? With a bus pulling in behind you and a line of irate Spaniards cursing your Malaga licence plates!

Stress!

The rest of the day went well although it was very hot. I managed to find both the radio station and the television station although they were not as close together as I had been led to believe. And, I wore the wrong shoes. To this day I have no idea what I said on the TV magazine show, but I know I got quite passionate about the Camino and in my attempt to find the right words, I looked at the floor a lot.

I don't think you are supposed to do that on TV...

I think I said something about the Camino de Santiago being a metaphor for life, with past, present and future being backwards - where you won't go; staying still, which you can't do for long; and moving forward, and making decisions about where and how.

It was all very Buddhist really.

Back to Acacio's and spent some time after dinner talking to Sandra from Switzerland. She had let her Camino friends go on this morning because there was only one place and she had decided to stay. She said that she had seriously thought of stopping because she wasn't getting that "Camino feeling" that everyone talked about. I suggested that if she was trying to walk someone else's Camino I was not surpised; that the real joys of the Camino are the ones that we least expect.

And tomorrow I have to go in search of my own, once again.
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2010: A Camino Odyssey

"She knows not where she's going
For the Camino will decide
because it was not the destination
But the glory of the ride"

And glory it was!



These comments from the pilgrims' guest book at Bar O Xardin in Muxia from "Joyce, Holland, 9th October 2008" are the best way I can sum up these past three weeks.

From having written optimistically "More tomorrow", more than two full weeks have passed. Two weeks in which I drove 4,789 kilometers (point 5), had five radio interviews- one of which was conducted by telephone while parked a bus stop - , was on TV three times (terrifying), and 20 newspaper write-ups, and in which I met many friends I didn't even know I had. I have spoken with scores of pilgrims, hospitaleros/as, people in churches, museums and tourist offices. I have screamed with joy with the owners of my favourite Pension in Santiago when Iniesta scored that oh so anticipated goal. I have been to a romeria in a tiny pueblo where I was treated like visiting royalty; I have shared several very expensive glasses of wine with a Canadian author and fellow pilgrim at the Parador Cafe with the "Million Dollar View"; I have almost learned a lesson about roads one should not go down (or up) in a two-wheel drive car. I have sat at the back of a church and listened to black-robed Benedictine monks sing at 7 in the morning as the mist rose up through the valley - and no-one even knew I was there. I have slept in the car in the middle of one of the most dramatic thunderstorms I have ever seen. I have been a resident heretic in the house of Christian journalists and their animals in a tiny pueblo and eaten some of the best burritos in my life. I have had my feet washed in a pilgrim ceremony and visited the mountain spring of an abbot who disappeared one day while meditating on the psalms only to reappear a hundred years later! I have been a guest at the house of a friend of Paolo Coelho,and who never takes off his trademark black baseball cap. I have met a Spanish lady in a dusty village who gave me her book and I found my favourite poet quoted on the back. And I have attended mass in Toledo two days running but still haven't heard that Mozarabic Rite because of ecclestical jealousy and red tape.

And I have stood in the wind and morning chill on top of the mountains in Somport to celebrate 10 years since I last walked downhill from there with the Camino to the west.

It was quite the ride! For the next couple of weeks I hope you will join me on it.

Trasna: The Crossing Place...

So sorry, but I'm still not able to get back to my historical flow. In the meantime, here is a poem for my patient readers...
I like the idea of choosing in this poem. It reminds me that the Greek word Hairesis - from which "heresy" is derived - means only that: Choice.

About half way through the Montes de Oca on the way to St. Juan de Ortega on the Camino Frances, there is a small plinth at the centre of a crossways. On the Camino, of course, one approaches it from the east. It is a nice place for a sandwich, a little water. But then the pilgrim continues on...westwards. Why not north or south? The path runs there too. This place always reminds me that the Way is the destination and that perhaps we are always on the Camino.

TRASNA

The pilgrims paused on the ancient stones
In the mountain gap.

Behind them stretched the roadway they had travelled .
Ahead, mist hid the track.

Unspoken the question hovered:
Why go on? Is life not short enough?

Why seek to pierce its mystery?
Why venture further on strange paths, risking all'

Surely that is a gamble for fools - or lovers.
Why not return quietly to the known road?

Why be a pilgrim still?
A voice they knew called to them, saying:

This is Trasna, the crossing place.
Choose! Go back if you must,

You will find your way easily by yesterday's fires,
there may be life in the embers yet.

If that is not your deep desire,
Stand still. Lay down your load.

Take your life firmly in your two hands,
(Gently... you are trusted with something precious)

While you search your heart's yearnings:
What am I seeking? What is my quest?

When your star rises deep within,
Trust yourself to its leading.

You will have the light for first steps.
This is Trasna, the crossing place.

Choose!
This is Trasna, the crossing place

Come !
Raphael Consedine

The photo is from the Camino Portuguese.
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Pedro Froílez de Traba

Had the marriage of Urraca and Alfonso the Battler been successful there is little doubt that the "Reconquista" would likely have taken place almost 400 years earlier. Both sovereigns were engaged in conflict with the Moorish kingdoms at their southern borders, and Urraca's fathers' advisors would have championed the marriage as the best way to avoid any further incursions into Christian territory. As it was it took Isabel of Castille's joining her kingdom to that of Fernando of Aragon's in marriage to accomplish that, the final blow to the Islamic rulers coming at the surrender of Granada in 1492 when the last Moorish king, Boabdil, was evicted from that glorious city and fled to Morocco.

Had Urraca have liked Alfonso even a little bit (and had Alfonso liked women at all) even the country we think of as Portugal would likely have had a different shape.

But as usual, I am getting ahead of myself.

Before we continue a little more with Urraca's marriage woes, it is time to look at another major player in this Feudal Drama, and that is Pedro Fróilez de Traba.

As we have already seen, with the disastrous attempt of Count Rodrigo d'Ovequiez and Bishop Diego Pelaez in 1085 to rebel against the rule of Alfonso VI (and perhaps create a little enclave of Normandy in Galicia?) many of the formerly noble houses seemed to disappear completely. By the time of which we have been writing (that is around 1110) the names of the aristocracy had changed. The first pre-requisite of maintaining favour in Galicia seemed to be friendship with Diego Gelmirez the Bishop. Second to that was currying favour with Urraca, and sometimes these two opportunities coincided. Often they did not.

Diego knew how to play both sides of the field. So did Count Pedro. They were not always on the same side and sometimes it is dizzying trying to sort out who was in bed with whom (so to speak). I'll try to save you the trouble here by not mentioning too much of the chops and changes.

If you go to Traba today, perhaps while walking from Finisterre to Muxia, you will see a glorious white sand beach, vast wetlands, and a tiny village on a low hill overlooking the Costa da Morte. There is little enough left of the great holdings of the great Counts of Traba.

But once, the landscape - both geographically and politically, was very different indeed.

For one thing, the little Prince Alfonso - Urraca and Raimundo's son who was to become the Emperor Alfonso VII - was brought up there.
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A Little Bit About Cluny (not George!)...

Pretty well everyone these days will have heard of the Knights Templar, those enormously wealthy and powerful knights who were arrested in France by Phillipe "Le Bel" and disbanded in the early 14th century.

But over two centuries earlier than the Templars, the most powerful religious order by far was the Monks of Cluny in Burgundy, France. Before the building of St. Peter's in Rome in 1505,the Abbey of Cluny was by far the largest ecclesiatic building in the known world.

Cluny Abbey was founded by William I, the Count of Auvergne in 910. He donated his hunting preserve for its lands and gave Cluny the very unusual privilege of releasing it from any further obligation to him, other than interceding on his behalf in prayer.

Normally, rich patrons who endowed monastic and religious communities expected at the very least to install their relatives as abbots and bishops, but William did not.

The Cluniacs followed the Order of St. Benedict and they were to produce several popes instrumental in the origins of the Cult of St. James, and Diego Gelmirez.

The Abbey was wealthy and the work was done by hired managers and workers instead of the brothers themselves which left them time to spend in almost constant prayer.

But despite vows of poverty, the monks enjoyed rich fare and fine wines on their tables and decorated their altars with cloth of gold and gemstones. There was nothing gloomy about Cluny.

The vast community required buildings to match. Ferdinand I of Leon-Castille, whom we have met before, personally donated a vast sum towards the abbey, and as if this were not enough, Alfonso VI doubled it in 1090. To set this in context, this would likely have been around the time that Diego Gelmirez left the cathedral school in Compostela and joined the court, to become Duke Raimundo's secretary a few years later.

Raimundo, you will remember, was French himself, from Burgundy. So was his relative Constance, the wife of Alfonso VI.

I am sure you can see where all this is leading to...
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A New Broom...

What Diego Gelmirez inherited was far from a happy community. It was a spiritual wasteland and an abandoned building site. The Canons held to no particular rule and by all accounts were a pretty unkempt lot. No-one had been at the helm for the best part of fifteen years and the coffers were dangerously low mainly due to royal encroachment on the cathedral's landed endowments, which admittedly were many.

Furthermore, the number of pilgrims had dwindled to a trickle and with them the source of revenue they had formerly brought to the town. Diego had his work cut out for him. He needed to present himself as a reformer: trouble is, reformers aren't always popular!

Diego realised that in housing the relics of St. James, the cathdral - the old one which was still more or less intact inside the lifeless pile of the planned one - held a tremendous potential resource, and while we may fault him many areas, failure to glorify the Saint was not one of them.

Of course, Diego Gelmirez was no fool. He realised early that while having a saint was good, it was very little use if few people thought to come and pay a visit. Promotion of the Pilgrimage route meant promotion of the town of Compostela - and by implication, Diego himself. He set out to convince his colleagues and those who counted for anything in Compostela of the urgent need for change: by bullying if necessary.

New brooms may sweep clean but they can and often do brush people up the wrong way. The people of Compostela were greatly conservative and set in their ways. They had seen their isolated country disturbed by upland aristocracy. They had lost their beloved bishop, Diego Pelaez. They had seen their mass change from the Visigothic Rite(sometimes called Mozarabic) to the Roman Mass. They had had to surrender Galicia to a Frenchman, Raimundo of Burgundy as the husband of the Infanta Urraca, and now they were obliged to hand over their cathedral to a man whom, while he had served well enough as "vicarius", now presented himself as a bishop with entirely French leanings.

Was he to be trusted? Diego had to think of some way to restore city pride. How he did it would create a division between cities which would last a thousand years...
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Diego Gelmirez, Bishop of Compostela...

...and a happy man!

But not just yet. Perhaps there was opposition to Diego becoming bishop. We don't know. If there was, the Historia Compostelana not surprisingly, chooses to miss that part out.

It is assumed that Diego was elected by the Chapter, but did his "unanimous approval" include that of the secular authorities? Fletcher in St. James' Catapult suggests that Diego's election was by no means a foregone conclusion. It might have been "more of a touch and go affair" that the Historia Compostelana - which we have to remember was commissioned by Gelmirez once bishop - allows us to see.

Nevertheless, Diego certainly had the approval of the royal family and that was all that mattered.

Normally, consecration was to take place at the hands of the Pope in Rome. Diego, however, didn't want to travel through Aragon where his old enemy King Pedro had given sanctuary to Diego Pelaez. Instead, he asked the king to write to Pope Paschal II to allow the consecration to take place nearer to home. This, in my opinion, is where things become rather intriguing...

A letter to this effect is written and conveyed along the Camino and on to Rome by two canons of Compostela: Hugo and Vincent. The Pontiff gave his ready agreement and the two set off for home. But they didn't get far.

Somewhere, presumably while overnighting in France and not far from the border between that country and Aragon, the two both became violently ill, so much so that Vincent succumbed to his illness and Hugo, while he survived, was presumably so sick that he was unable to send word to Galicia.

As a result, Diego remained a bishop without a bishopric. After a while, another deputation was dispatched, this time containing Munio one of his many brothers (Diego may have invented the word "nepotism") along with another Munio(or Muño)who was to become the earliest of the authors of the Historia Compostelana. Paschal renewed his permissions and the two returned home without incident. Meanwhile, Hugo who had recovered sufficiently to travel, made his own way home. It had been a long time since he had seen Galicia: five months in fact.

It had also been a long time since Diego had been elected as Bishop of Santiago de Compostela. But Diego was a patient man. Finally, with the expected pomp and circumstance no doubt, Diego Gelmirez, son of Gelmirio, aged approximately 36 years old - a man of humble birth but grand ambitions - was consecrated on April 21st,1101.

He was most likely the most self-satisfied man in all the kingdoms that day.
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Sneak Peak...!

If you would like a preview of the Prologue of my new book "Compostela" go to:
http://www.pilgrimagetoheresy.com/compostela_the_stages_of_a_book_in_progress
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Bishop Elect...

It is hardly surprising that Diego Gelmirez rose to the position of Bishop of Santiago de Compostela. In 1096, he began his second administration of the honor and continued in this post until 1100 at which point an embassy was sent to Rome to try to reach a conclusion as to whom would fill the vacancy of bishop. They found that Urban II had died and a new pope, Paschal II, also of the Order of Cluny, had been elected in his place.

Paschal ruled promptly that Diego Pelaez had been justly deprived of the bishopric and ordered a new election to be held. Diego Gelmirez had long since signed himself as "vicarius" of St. James. Things were about to fall in his lap.

Diego went to Rome, ostensibly on pilgrimage. Going to Rome was something Diego did only twice in his life. Passing through Aragon was not something he cared to do. This time, by luck or design, he met Guy, Archbishop of Vienne who just happened to be the brother of Diego's patron, Raimundo of Burgundy.

Guy was a powerful force in the Curia (he was later to become Pope Calixitus II). It's hard to imagine that Diego would not have asked Guy to intercede with Paschal II on his behalf.

Whatever occurred, the Pope seemed impressed with Diego and ordaining him as sub-deacon sent him back to Galicia with a letter to the canons proclaiming that His Holiness considered Diego a worthy candidate for Holy Orders.

According to the Historia Compostela, Diego Gelmirez was elected "unwillingly" to the position of Bishop of Santiago de Compostela in July 1100.

"Alas, why would you heap these cares on me?
I am unfit for state and majesty;
I do beseech you, take it not amiss;
I cannot nor I will not yield to you."

Diego Gelmirez?

No.
Richard the III…
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Back to the Future: Part Seven...

And now we are almost back to where we left off before the holidays and ready to take a good long look at Feudal Galicia in the days of Diego Gelmirez, the man who put the Santiago into Santiago de Compostela.

Diego was not born into the nobility; indeed we might say he grew up on the periphery of it. His father, Gelmirio, was a devoted servant to Bishop Diego Pelaez who administered the Torres del Oeste, the strategic fortress on the River Ulla closer to Padron (Iria Flavia).

The future archbishop of Santiago de Compostela would have witnessed many important comings and goings, perhaps some royal. Certainly he received the patronage of Diego Pelaez the bishop who made sure that the young Diego received his education at the cathedral school in Compostela. Afterwards, Diego spent time at the court of Alfonso VI, the king. He clearly was a master of watching and learning.

After Diego Pelaez was arrested for treason there was a vacancy at Compostela. Not that Diego was ready for the bishopric by any means but he made himself so useful that he was awarded the "Honor" and became the administrator of the church funds from its landed holdings, most of which went into the royal pocket while the diocese was without a bishop.

Two interim bishops came and went very quickly and Diego was back holding the purse strings. In the meantime, Diego Pelaez was still petitioning the Pope to obtain back his see, with very little success. (He was to die in exile in 1104)

Upon the death of Urban II (who was a monk of Cluny about which I shall shortly be writing) and the election of a new pope, Pascal II (also Cluniac) the influence of France was creeping on noisy feet across Spain. Diego Gelmirez loved all things French having learned that being a Francophile at the court of Alfonso (and his Burgundian queen) was the way to preferment. At the turn of the 12th century he visited Rome and returned with directions to the Canons of Compostela that he was a worthy candidate for Holy Orders.

Within a very short time, and "unanimously", Diego is put forward as the choice for the new and long needed bishop.

And so the story continues...
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Part Six...

According to the Historia Compostelana, Diego Pelaez was consecrated by Sancho II who was the King of Galicia at the time. The HC is notoriously self-serving and says very little about this, perhaps because Diego Gelmirez patron was Alfonso VI, not Sancho who was murdered not long after Diego Pelaez became, probably - though he took an oath to deny it - on the orders of Alfonso, his brother.

We know very little about Diego Pelaez. The authors of the HC managed to skirt very diplomatically around the subject. Perhaps that was because Diego Gelmirez, who was to follow Pelaez as bishop, knew more about the fate of his colleague in the church than was good for him. Conjecture? One certainly would question why Diego Gelmirez was so reluctant to travel anywhere near Aragon where Pelaez sought refuge in his later years, and after a lengthy imprisonment.

Diego Pelaez had been arrested and imprisoned by Alfonso VI (his brothers being conveniently removed by this time) on charges of treason. Perhaps he and the nobles whom he supported were endeavouring to re-instate King Garcia who was kicking his heels with the Moors in Sevilla at the time. There is even a story – suggested by the HC – that Pelaez et al planned to hand Galicia over to William of Normandy , lock stock and barrel and amazingly there may be some fire to this smoke!

Whatever the story, Pelaez was brought to trial in chains and stripped of his see and for 15 years afterwards, the bishopric of Compostela – with two very short exceptions – remained without a bishop while King and Pope laboured to end a disagreement.

The time was right for Diego Gelmirez to follow his ambitions. He became “Vicarius” of Compostela, administering the church’s property and income while he waited for the right time to remind the Pope that his flock in Compostela had no shepherd.
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Part Five...

The cathedral is rebuilt but even though Al Mansur has died, there are other threats, notably the Vikings and the Normans who make frequent raids on the coast. The Torres del Oeste are built in order to combat the threat of invasion along the Ulla River. Sancho the Great of Navarra adds Leon and Castilla to his kingdoms driving King Bermudo of Leon into Galicia.

On Sancho’s death in 1035, the kingdoms are divided amongst his sons. Bermudo makes an attempt to win back his kingdom from Fernando, the most ambitious but is unsuccessful.

A rebellion in Galicia breaks out, perhaps in support of the dethroned Bermudo, but it has few lasting consequences.

Fernando, like his father before him, arranges for the kingdom to be divided up upon his death. Alfonso VI, not satisfied with Leon overthrows both the weak Garcia of Galicia and Sancho of Castilla whom he imprisoned.

And in Compostela, Diego Pelaez, Bishop, meets in secret with the Galician nobility. What can they be plotting?
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Part Four...

Note: Parts Three and Four are back to front! Sorry for the mix up.
A tomb of some sort is discovered at “Libredon" which may or may not have been either Iria Flavia, Compostela, or someplace in between. We are talking somewhere between 818 and 842 and that’s the closest we can get. Pelayo the shepherd is either involved, or not, according to the version you read. Either way, Theodemir the bishop of Iria Flavia is summoned and Lo! the remains contained therewith are immediately proclaimed to be those of the Apostle of Jesus, James the Great (so known as to distinguish him from James “The Lesser" who may, or may not, have been the Brother of Jesus). From this vacillation between might and might not illustrates the difficulty in interpreting the story of St. James. If it appears that I am being irreverent and flippant I ask you to bear with me: once you begin to truly investigate the story of the Camino historical discrepancies abound, alas.

This to-ing and fro-ing notwithstanding, the Moors were at the door. They had Mohammed as their Prophet and it would seem that they were invincible. As they moved northwards with increasing rapidity those in somewhat shaky political positions must have realised that they needed something, or Someone to rouse the people against the Infidel. The legendary success at the Battle of Clavijo where Santiago purportedly appeared on a white horse to support the soldiers sounds convincing. Trouble is it was “written up” at least two centuries later, and the battle in question was not in 844 as stated but in 859 under a completely different king.

The authors of the Historia Compostelana must have flunked their History O Levels!
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Part Three...

Enter Alfonso II “The Chaste”, the King of the Austres. From his city of Oviedo he ordered a church to be built at the site of the discovery. However, by all accounts it was no great shakes of an affair, built we are told of “wattle and daub” ("ex petra et luto opere parvo") and a bit of a disappointment when compared with the sumptuous churches in his city. This has always struck me as rather odd.

Being “Chaste” as he is, the Historia Compostelana (written on the authority of Bishop Diego Gelmirez, later the first Archbishop of Compostela, of whom you either have already read, or will be hearing much more about shortly) challenges the reader to attribute any duplicity on the king’s part. But I am getting ahead of myself...

A second church was built, this time it is Alfonso III who is responsible. Consecrated with great pomposity and ceremony. It is gradually visited by pilgrims including, if you really want a fairy story - sorry Shirley - Charlemagne.

Alfonso wrote to the clergy at the Shrine of St. Martin of Tours (a man who was absolutely scandalised by the execution of Priscillian and who refused to give Communion to anyone who had authorised it.) What Alfonso wanted to know was how one goes about promoting a Saint’s relics. He is adamant in response to a letter from the clergy that it is Santiago who is buried in Compostela, but he also asks for assistance. He wants details about St.Martin: who was this man that he became revered as a Saint? What were his miracles etc?

It would appear that what Alfonso is looking for is instruction into mythmaking.

Was he successful?

Remember the Moors? Well they are not sitting this out playing chess in Cordoba. The conqueror Al Mansur, who was to spend most of his time on the road subjugating the north, obviously learned of Santiago de Compostela, the Figurehead of Galicia and rounding up his forces travelled northwest with the sole intention of bringing the Christians to their knees.

Since he found the city deserted, it would seem that the only one he succeeded with was a monk at prayer, possibly the Bishop of Compostela, who somehow (you want miracles: this is one) persuaded this butcher to not only leave him alive, but to not disturb the Saint of Compostela (whose body Al Mansur had intended to destroy). Along with stone boats etc, I personally find this one a bit hard to swallow as Al Mansur was not exactly known for his compassion. Another story is that the bishop fled with the remains and that the city was completely deserted, so we don’t really know one way or the other. I like the first story best, but for reasons you will have to wait for the publication of “Compostela!” for!

Whatever the story, the tomb is left unmolested. Al Mansur raises the city and the cathedral and takes Christian prisoners who carry the doors and the bells of the church back to Cordoba where these are put to various uses depending upon whom you read.
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Part Two...

There is no mention of Santiago in any of the literature about Galicia before the late 6th century when the Brevarium Apostelorum claims that the Apostle James preached in Spain. Even then, there is nothing written about his having been buried in Spain.

After the Romans withdrew their forces in the early part of the 5th century, the Sueves took charge in Galicia. Their religion was Arianism which had similarities with Priscillianism. Despite the execution of the man who gave this movement its name and the Roman attempt to eradicate all traces of the movement, there were many Priscillianists still in the north of Spain and in Galicia in particular. The Sueves appeared to have been tolerant of the Priscillianists and those who followed his teachings were allowed to continue to a certain extent.

It was only when the Visigoths took power and especially after their wholesale conversion to Catholicism that the Priscillianists were forced to meet in secret. Even then, churchmen writing of St. James such as Isidore of Sevilla and St.Julian said nothing about the Saint having been brought back from Jerusalem after his decapitation to be buried in Galicia. Julian, in fact, outright denied it as a possibility.

The Brevarium Apostelorum does mention Santiago’s evangelistic efforts in “Hispania” but it is unlikely that there were any Christian churches outside of Baetica (Southern Spain) before the year 200. Anyway, Pope Clement VIII insisted that all mentions of St. James’ proselytising be removed from the Brevarium in the 16th century.
Hmm...?
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