Small question about Pentiment: Was the character of Vácslav and the metaphysical theories he can explain if you ask him nicely enough in any way a reference to Menocchio, the 16th Italian miller that was the subject of Carlo Ginzburg's 1976 The Cheese and the Worms?
Yes. Some players have identified Vácslav's beliefs as Gnosticism. While many of the things he says are consonant with Gnostic thought, others are not. It's really his own blend of absorbed traditions mixed with his own theories. Like Menocchio, Vácslav has taken a lot of ideas from different places and has formulated his own particular cosmology.
Another source of inspiration came from the Fournier Register, records of the inquisitorial process applied to southern French Cathar credentes, Catholics, and non-believers. Many of the people whom Jacques Fournier interrogated had syncretized their own beliefs that could best be understood as a blend of Catharism or Catholicism, local folk beliefs, and their own personal ideas.
While people like Menocchio or the character Vácslav represent an extreme level of cosmological development, I wanted to push back against the idea that common people lacked the curiosity or drive to formulate their own ideas about the world around them (and beyond).
Also like Menocchio, Vácslav cannot shut up about his beliefs. Menocchio was not condemned only as a heretic, but as a heresiarch, the founder of a heretical movement. His drive to constantly talk with his neighbors about his beliefs was seen as proselytizing.
William IX of Aquitaine (died February 10, 1126) is considered to be one of the earliest known troubadours by historians. Troubadour culture and Courtly Literature flourishes in Southern France.
Marie de Champagne, daughter of Eleanor of Aquitaine, commissions the romance Knight of the Cart/Lancelot by Chretien de Troyes, between 1175 to 1189. It is the earliest known depiction of the adulterous affair of Sir Lancelot and Queen Guinevere
Marie de Champagne is also purported to have commissioned Andreas Capellanus to pen the treatise De Amore, between 1185 to 1190.
The Synod of Verona is held on November 1184. Marriage is declared a sacrament in response to Catharic influence.
Marie de Champagne dies on March 11, 1198. Her mother, Eleanor, dies six years later on April 1, 1204
The Albigensian Crusade erupts in Southern France. from 1209 to 1229. Catharism is eradicated. Casualties range from two hundred thousand to over a million dead. Troubadour culture declines in the region.
The Lancelot-Grail Cycle or the Vulgate Cycle is composed between 1210 to 1235. The first three sections of the literary cycle are believed to be as follows: the Lancelot (c. 1210 to 1220), Queste del Saint Graal (c. 1220 to 1225) and Mort Artu (c. 1225 to 1230). The earliest iterations of Tristan en Prose/Prose Tristan are also believed to be composed around this period.
The Post-Vulgate Cycle, a combined revision of the Lancelot-Grail and the Prose Tristan with stronger pessimistic themes against secular and courtly chivalry, is composed from 1230 to 1240.
"Your ideas seem to be over a century old in my book. You should consider about this if you want to live and thrive."
I lowkey wanted to do something in which Frollo and Pelegrin interacting with each other, as they are Catholic and Cathar respectively. I might make a fic about this soooo… stay tuned if I do! :3
Surrender in Abundance (aka Minister of Justice DESTROYS Heretic with FACTS and LOGIC)
NOTE: I've always wanted to exercise Frollo's character a little more in The Lords of Notre Dame, so I gave myself the opportunity to write Frollo interacting with Lord Pelegrin, who is an asexual celibate Cathar hermit and nobleman. I personally had fun writing Frollo being all smug about stuff. Enjoy! ^^
The moon was in its waning arc, surrounded by dark clouds that fogged the deep valley among the hills. The path full of mud and rocks glowed like a dense river in the black of night. There was a lone carriage being pulled by a guard riding on his horse. The carriage appeared to have a higher status, yet there was no one else along the path expecting who was in the carriage. The wheels rattled as it turned and ground upon the rock, and was joined by the soft clops of the horse’s hooves.
Frollo sat still in his seat as he held a basket, in which it contained grapes that were just as red as the altar wine he would occasionally sip during mass. Clearly, Frollo knew that Lord Pelegrin relied on a strict pescetarian diet ever since he knew about him. However, it was a distraction. Pelegrin could eat it, but there’s the other chance he could also be enraged due to the conflicting idea Frollo has. Either way, it would be the perfect trap for Pelegrin to surrender his esoteric ideas. Frollo lifted a corner of the napkin covering the basket to double check if the grapes were just as ripe as when he packed them hours ago. Indeed, they were just as fresh as before. Frollo smirked, and covered the basket.
Soon after, Frollo felt the carriage jerk and came to a halt. The guard had said their “whoa” to their horse, and the horse whinnied. Frollo looked out to see if the carriage stopped by the gate to a castle. The castle appeared to be a century old, but it was well kept by Pelegrin and the servants who lived and worked there.
Pity. I was expecting Lord Pelegrin’s home to be more desolate than this, the Minister thought to himself.
“Your Honor,” the guard announced as they opened the carriage door and held a torch in their other hand.
Frollo stepped out of the carriage while the guard holding the torch helped light the way. The two men walked up to the gate. Frollo picked up the knocker on the wooden door and struck against it three punctuating times.
“Who’s there?” a voice called out from the other side.
“His Honor, Judge Claude Frollo,” The guard responded.
The door was soon opened by a servant, clearly subordinate under Pelegrin’s service. They wore a warm-colored tunic with red stockings, akin to their master’s robes. They soon lead Frollo and the guard into the castle yard. The yard revealed a small thicket of laurel trees and shrubs. Pelegrin wasn’t joking whenever he implicitly stated that he was hoping to fulfill a prophecy, and both Frollo and Raoulin had a problem with that. There was also a small memorial on one of the yard walls dedicated to the people that had been murdered by the Church, so to speak by the Cathar Lord. Frollo took notice of these physical traits of the castle yard, but soon turned his head to face another door approaching him and the guard.
Everything seemed to be full of dread as Frollo and the guard stopped by that door. The servant only entered through that door to deliver the announcement. Frollo barely heard anything else, but only could audibly recognize his official title as the Minister of Justice. The guard soon left Frollo be, back to the parked horse-drawn carriage. Frollo waited for a couple of seconds more until the door leading inside was then opened by Lord Pelegrin Seguin.
“Lord Claude Frollo,” Pelegrin stated, almost at a loss, “I never knew you would come unannounced like this.”
“I’m never too busy to check up on how a fellow nobleman is doing a week after adelphopoiesis with the Legislator, Your Grace,” said Frollo. “Shall we discuss this in the Great Hall? I’ve brought a treat for you.”
There was a brief silence as Pelegrin pursed his lip.
“Right this way, Your Honor,” Pelegrin led Frollo on the way to the great hall.
The two noblemen arrived at the great hall, which was only lit dimly by the candles on the large table in the center of the chamber. Pelegrin gestured to another servant to lay out dishes on the table. The servant had the dishes laid out as soon as Frollo and Pelegrin arrived at each end of the table, without even breaking them accidentally. Frollo and the Cathar Lord took off their chaperons and sat down. Frollo placed his basket close to the candles, and opened the lid.
There, Frollo picked up the grape vines with his index and middle fingers and placed each of the share to his plate and Pelegrin’s. Pelegrin raised a brow in suspicion, as well as slight offense.
“Judge Frollo,” he began, keeping his irritation at a low level, “To answer your question, I… am bushed on why you would unite with Legislator De Caux. Don’t you know he’s relying on the physical pleasures of this world? Sex and wine are prime examples of those temptations–”
“You’re not eating, Seguin,” Frollo frowned.
A pause.
“I’m not eating these grapes,” said Pelegrin, lightly pushing the dishes away, “You know I only eat fish and vegetables.”
“Eh, but I insist on eating,” smirked Frollo.
Frollo could see Pelegrin sighed exasperatedly but softly. Pelegrin pulled a grape out of the vine, and ate only one. However, it had been so long since Pelegrin actually ate a grape. He hadn’t tasted the lovely, sweet yet sour juices flowing in his mouth and on his tongue since he was in his early twenties when he had first learned about the Cathars who once existed many years past, as well as aspiring to be one of them. But would Pelegrin give in to that long lost taste of that forbidden fruit?
“You know, before deciding to visit you, I have been spending such a lovely and sentimental time with Sir Raoulin,” Frollo said as he watched Pelegrin eat the one grape. Frollo even chewed some more grapes on his dish before continuing. “There were nights that were more… intimate than others.”
Pelegrin felt his lower eyelid twitch as Frollo boasted.
“One like you and me may say these things we did at night are…taboo,” Frollo gave a smug look, “But this is not the point I’m making here. Never mind what Sir De Caux and I did.”
“What… on Satan's Earth are you saying?” asked Pelegrin, now at the edge of his temper, with his eyebrows furled.
Frollo looked at the irritated Cathar, and raised both of his eyebrows.
“You deny the fact that God created our world and instead you say it was the Devil.” Frollo then ate another grape, “How interesting. Where did you learn this from?”
Pelegrin didn’t say anything. If he did answer Frollo’s question, it would mean certain death by either hanging or burning at the stake. But even then, if Pelegrin were to give up his philosophy then, he would consider himself already dead and doomed to reincarnate in that painful cycle. Frollo gulped subtly, but instead of a small burp, his stomach growled as it wanted to trigger him to regurgitate in abhorrence. His insides churned and climbed up to his throat, making him gag a little. Fortunately, Frollo found himself not feeling the urgent need to throw up completely. Even then, his face was distorted in a repulsed expression. Soon, Frollo took a deep inhale, and then a heavy sigh.
“Hmm… I must deescalate,” Frollo quietly whispered to himself. “Perhaps this should be more… civil. I can’t do… smugness and promiscuity.”
Frollo cleared his throat, his eyes looking down as he thought of other ways to stall Pelegrin’s time, and even have him surrender in abundance to the Church.
“Pelegrin, before you snap, we should discuss this in a dignified manner. You and me, talking about my views and yours,” stated Frollo. “What do you say?”
The Cathar Lord had his fist clenched, but he let go as he sighed.
“...Proceed.”
“Perfect,” Frollo smirked, “Now, in my view, it is said that God had created this world and saw it was good. It wasn’t until Lucifer coerced Adam and Eve to eat the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge.”
Pelegrin listened closely, trying to find a point on where Frollo could be wrong.
“From then,” continued Frollo, “creation fell from grace with Man, and divisions of languages, cultures, governments… were made among Man. Then again, creation still grows to prevail and one day, Man will turn to God and become his Sons.”
The Cathar Lord rested his cheek on his palm as he listened to the Minister.
“False prophets, however, like you have perverted the Word.”
As Frollo finished his point, Pelegrin ate another grape from the vine.
“Lord Frollo,” Pelegrin began soon after he swallowed, “I have not perverted the Word. The Garden of Eden was Satan’s trap to keep the souls from seeking the awakening they seek to find. Sophia came to Eden and said to Adam and Eve that they will seek all of the spiritual knowledge.”
Frollo scratched his robes as he listened.
“You can say this, but your kind has divided the one Church,” said Frollo. “I only know you as of now, but if you lead this movement complete with followers and rites, you will divide it again.”
“I am a lone hermit seeking to fulfill a prophecy,” the Cathar Lord added, “A prophecy declared by Guilhem Belibaste in 1321; ‘The Way of Love will return once again when the laurel turns green again in 700 years.’”
Knowing that he had read about this prophecy and the Cathars in his college years, Frollo stifled a chuckle of disbelief. The original Cathars haven’t roamed Earth since a century before, and they practically deserved to be rid of according to Frollo’s eyes. Their so-called heathen ways, like the Roma population in Paris, inflamed Man’s lowest instincts, and they were stopped by the Pope, Crusaders, and Inquisitors before. Pelegrin noticed Frollo chuckle, and furled his eyebrows by a centimeter.
“Heh. Apologies, Your Grace,” Frollo lied by omission, “I was thinking about my years in education.”
Pelegrin raised an eyebrow.
“...Education?”
“Of course. Why shouldn’t I?” asked Frollo. “I had discussions like this before when I was a young man.”
“...Riiiight…”
“Anyway,” Frollo cleared his throat, before eating another grape from his dish, “Are you married?”
Pelegrin sighed, with a hint of frustration growing to be more intense.
“Do you think I’m the type to be married?”
“Of course,” Frollo shrugged, “My partner, Raoulin, is married to Lady Jaqueline, and they both have a son: Beau De Caux.”
Of all the times Pelegrin had known about Raoulin, he had never known about Beau. Children who were born by their parents, in Pelegrin’s view, were more spirits to be trapped on Earth.
“The poor soul…” said Pelegrin, looking down on the table. “He’ll be taught the sinful ways his father does in his life: Hourly mass, wine, sex… Beau will grow up to be just as selfish as his father if he doesn’t see the Way of the True God of the Spiritual Realm.”
“All of these are necessary evils, Your Grace,” Frollo responded.
“How?”
“For drinking wine, Christ has said ‘Drink from it, all of you–This is my blood of the covenant,’” explained the Minister. “For a general view of sex, it brings new life and creation to the world. Mass is supposed to bring us together, and make anew to prove the Lord’s sacrifice.”
The Cathar Lord softly groaned, shaking his head.
“Your Honor, forgive me for interrupting but when I adopted children,” added Pelegrin, “Their mindset was already just as selfish as yours. They were nearly teenagers when their parents had passed on to the next life. Even then, when I told them that they were selfish in their beliefs, they shrugged it off. Mass is only an agent of the Pope to bind ourselves to the Material Realm.”
“Good,” Frollo smirked with another chuckle, “Even when you try to reduce the population while having children, they know that you live a life of sin and heresy.”
The smoke that Frollo had blown has fueled the flames at that point. Pelegrin clenched his fist, with his knuckles cracking.
“Judge Frollo,” he snarled, “You are the most despicable nobleman I ever knew. You’re wasting my time, and I clearly haven’t got all night.”
“Suit yourself,” Frollo sarcastically answered. “Heh. Maybe I could tell you more about what Mass is like.”
With the thrashing force he had, Pelegrin threw his plate with the grapes off the table. The plate flew across like an arrow that was fired from a crossbow, and made a loud shatter as it made impact to the wall. Pelegrin immediately stood up violently as well.
“Leave the castle now!” Pelegrin pointed to the door.
“Come now, we’re talking about our life and our ways of living, and you’re asking me to leave?”
“I don’t care,” snarled Pelegrin. “Get out or I’ll–”
“You’re talking to the Minister of Justice,” Frollo stood up from his seat and folded his arms, “Only I assemble the guards.”
“ I can’t believe I’m talking to a hypocrite …” Pelegrin muttered angrily in his Occitan tongue as he put on his chaperon stormed out of the great hall.
“By your logic, throwing a fit is rather sinful, and hypocritical at best,” said Frollo as he followed Pelegrin and put on his chaperon as well.
“My God, I could just…” Pelegrin growled and turned to face Frollo, but stayed deathly still as if he didn’t know what to do next.
“You could do just what, Your Grace?” asked Frollo.
The Cathar Lord looked at his hands. Would they be used as weapons?
“Go on. Strike me if you need to,” Frollo dryly taunted.
There was a long, dire pause as Frollo stared right into Pelegrin’s eyes. Pelegrin laid down his hands and sighed. Indeed, Frollo wasn’t planning on striking either.
“I… I can’t,” grunted Pelegrin.
Frollo laughed.
“Of course,” he smirked, walking out of Pelegrin’s way in the castle yard. “You, Cathars , are so cowardly in fighting back. It’s a wonder why the Pope has rid a lot of you… including that so-called prophet of yours.”
This nobleman is a lost specter, Pelegrin prayed silently, to which Frollo started to notice. God of the Spiritual Realm, I ask you to veer his course in life so he will one day truly see the light the way he claims to see. Even in his darkest hours, send him the news to surrender his selfish ways. Have his swords turn into ploughshares no matter how many times he shall refuse. Benedicte, parcite eum.
“Praying to your god, aren’t you?” sneered Frollo, before the Cathar Lord could conclude his prayer with an ‘Amen’. “May I remind you once more that there can only be one? ”
“Leave the castle, Claude,” Pelegrin growled, “And never come back. You wasted my time long enough.”
Frollo shrugged before walking up to the castle gates.
“Very well,” he said. “Your ideas seem to be over a century old in my book. You should consider this if you want to live and thrive.”
Frollo walked off in a subtle cocky manner. As he stepped back to the carriage and sat down as the carriage drove off to the misty night, Frollo watched Pelegrin angrily stare right back at him. Everything Frollo had said–The short quippy insults, the sneering, the threats, laughing it off–could easily describe him as right all the time. But even then, he had to keep that question open, and let that intertwine with Pelegrin’s time. Yet, how the hell could Frollo not be ashamed of himself for picking on a Cathar, or Good Christian as Pelegrin would prefer to describe himself?
The answer was simple. He hated him. Frollo hated how Pelegrin’s view of the world inflamed his truth and worldview. If he were to tell the King and Pope about Pelegrin’s existence, he would do so. Then, it would be better for the Minister to know that the Cathar Lord will cease to exist.
Finally decided on lore for my Trench Pilgrim Procession. Ultimately settled on a Sethian Gnostic cosmology with a backstory based on the popular notion of the Cathars (but the Albigensian Crusade never happened or was largely unsuccessful. also not from southern france) and colors based on House Toulouse. They will spend as much time fighting other members of the faithful that call them heretic as they will the legions of Hell. Their rejection of the Old Testament's God as Yaldabaoth has put them particularly in conflict with the Cavalcade of the Tenth Plague. The Inquisition has also turned its eyes on them.
The voices of the Aeons ring in the War Prophetess' ears. Yaldabaoth has truly shown his jealousy. With the opening of Hell's gates he and his Archons would hold Pleroma from us like never before. Once more the Barbelo, and the one the Prophetess is not worthy to name, have sent Aeons, in the Meta Christs, to save us. The true faithful make for the Levant to assist them, lest humanity be trapped in this imperfect world.
