The taking of the hill-set city of Béziers, where a brilliant Court used to be held, is one of the most terrible incidents in this twenty years' war.
"Kill! kill!" shouted the leaders; "Kill! kill!" the cry was echoed through the blazing city, and sixty thousand souls are said to have perished on that awful day.
Folquet, the ex-troubadour, had been told that heretics and faithful were being indiscriminately massacred.
"Slay them," he cried; "God will know his own."
There is also a similar story about de Montfort, to whom two heretics were brought: one firm in the faith, the other open to conviction.
"Burn them both," shouted de Montfort. "If this fellow means what he says the fire will expiate his sins; and if he lies he will suffer for his imposture."
We saw the city of Béziers from the windows of the train: a picturesque mass of houses climbing up a steep hill to cluster round the fine fortress-cathedral—another characteristic example of the architecture of Southern France.
Our train puffed along the valley of the Aude to the famous walled city of Carcassonne, the next scene of this savage drama.
It was here that Count Raimon—or the Viscount of Béziers, as he was also called—had established himself when the news came of the fall of Béziers. A bad day that must have been for the Count and his garrison! His brother-in-law, King Pedro of Arragon, had come to help him in this almost hopeless cause, and he went at once to mediate with the Crusaders, pleading Raimon's own unimpeachable orthodoxy.
But it was of no use. The Defenders of the Faith were panting for plunder and massacre. They said the Count and twelve knights might depart in peace, but the town must be given up and every other soul in it.