After another excellent breakfast we set off for a drive through the Les Ezyies valley. I am at the wheel! The skies are still overcast and drizzle is likely again, but it is not dampening our enthusiasm and we head off for new discoveries.
The town of St Cyprien is very pretty and pretty quiet. We have a coffee and a wander around but the drizzle makes it a shorter and quicker wander than it might have been. Driving onwards we come across a prehistoric site - the troglodyte caves at St Madeleine. An ancient village carved right into the hillside, along the river bank, it gives a great insight into the life of early cave dwellers. I am glad I was not born a troglodyte, life would have been tough. But probably happy enough as they knew nothing else. No photos of glamorous overseas destinations to give them travel envy! No TVs full of bad news or social media and Apps to let them know what they were missing! The days were about survival and little else.
The hillside complex incorporated a chapel and each room had a purpose. There was a large vegetable garden and a chateau was built at the top in medieval years, now in a shambolic state of disrepair. The place requires a dose of imagination to envisage it as it really was back in those early days but on this drizzly day just being there gives us a chance to appreciate the harshness of troglodyte life. Meanwhile excavation and discovery continues. There are troglodtye villages dotted all along the river, each one similar but different. This one is but one and it gives us a glimpse.
On our way to our next destination we spy some horses frolicking in a paddock. Black Beauty puts on a devilishly good display of prancing and bucking, showing off as best s/he can. We pull over and s/he does another rather beautiful bucking dance for our private viewing. The unusually coloured piebald looks on nonchalantly, as if to say 'yes, thanks, I'm fine' and then does odd things with her neck and rolls around on the ground to give her back a good scratch. Her belly is large and I wonder if she is pregnant. They both come to the fence and stand together, their heads touching, their eyes begging for goodies. Much to their dismay, I take a few photos, give them nothing because of course I have nothing that horses would want, and we head on our way. They wander off, hopes dashed, to munch on grass. If only I'd had some carrots stowed in the car!
Next stop is the unusual and totally astounding Maison de Forte Reignac. It's a castle, but unlike any that have gone before. A castle, but not as we know it. I do declare this is one of the most amazing, bizarre and captivating buildings one can wander through. The building is one thing, but its contents are something else again. Read on ...
This castle looks rather ordinary from the car park, and there is hardly anyone around. Essentially, it's a facade stuck up against the cliff, looking almost like a one-dimensional faux chateau that gives no inkling of what lies beyond.
From the moment of entry, I am mesmerised. The rooms are cut into the rock behind, going deep into the hillside and dating back to prehistoric times. It was then renovated during the Middle Ages. Bedrooms, ballrooms, trophy rooms, staircases ... all cut out of the rock. What!?
Each room is impeccably furnished in great detail. The fires are going (like, really giving out warmth) and the audio throughout makes it feel as though this place is still lived in. The kitchen is fully equipped in medieval style. One can wander at leisure, take photos, pause and ponder. No precious guard telling you to put your camera away or be careful not to touch. Every so often there are displays and information, models and remnants to read about and absorb. All the while the sounds of Middle Age castle life surrounds you.
There is a real dungeon here, a small dark cell with chains and a feeding slot there. To be locked in there would be truly terrifying. It is the naughty corner for the naughtiest of naughty boys. I rather think that if naughty boys of today were put in something like that for even an hour or two, the world would be free of naughty boys. Maybe. Although, next to it is the Billy-Goat room where a nasty man known as the Goat of Reignac had his wicked way with young girls, and got away with it. For his whole life it seems. Such was the power of the terrible narcissistic and ego driven males of those times. The nice guys would never have got a look in.
Sadly, such hideousness still exists today but the exhibits here hopefully show that such brazen and inappropriate behaviour is absolutely abhorrent. Then, and now.
But ... it all gets even more harrowing ...
Our visit ends in the torture room which houses a collection of every evil device devised by man. There are more than 60 on display, some more benign and designed to scare but most of them created to torture the living daylights out of the poor victim. From being hung upside down and sawn from buttocks to abdomen, to being made to sit on the point of a pyramid with weights on your legs, to being boiled alive, stretched, disfigured, impaled, having your skull slowly crunched, your feet burnt off, your eyes gouged out or your skin peeled off, the instruments of torture are all here. They make the guillotine and hanging - also on display - seem positively pleasant, at least you die quickly.
Our visit ends in the torture room which houses a collection of every evil device devised by man. There are more than 60 on display, some more benign and designed to scare but most of them created to torture the living daylights out of the poor victim. From being hung upside down and sawn from buttocks to abdomen, to being made to sit on the point of a pyramid with weights on your legs, to being boiled alive, stretched, disfigured, impaled, having your skull slowly crunched, your feet burnt off, your eyes gouged out or your skin peeled off, the instruments of torture are all here. They make the guillotine and hanging - also on display - seem positively pleasant, at least you die quickly.
One device that made me cringe the most was the 'Breaking with the wheel' where you have every bone twisted and smashed and broken until you are a mangled wreck. Like getting caught in the spokes of a large evil bicycle. It is hard to describe, much less comprehend. A macabre game of medieval Twister with knobs on.
There is even a Mask of Disgrace, clamped on the heads of those who dared to utter their displeasure at those in power. Usually it was women who ended up in these heinous metal masks, often for life. With spikes and blades inside, they mutilated the tongue, and with big ears and an ugly look, they humiliated the wearer. A far cry from the beautiful Masquerade masks of my world!
This is the most comprehensive collection of the most incomprehensible contraptions. It's a collection of the most unimaginably grotesque gadgets imaginable. What makes someone do this type of thing to someone else is beyond me and the mind of whoever devised these methods of torture is beyond help.
Despite all that hideousness, I was, at the same time, kind of captivated as I tried to fathom what on earth makes humans beings so unfathomably horrific! Who can condone this stuff, much less devise it?? Truly unfathomable.
With visions of being grilled or garotted floating around in our heads, we drive on to the picturesque village of St Leon and then on to Sarlat where we stroll through the gorgeous medieval streets and alleys. It is lively yet not crowded. Most tourists in the area are French. And chic with it.
We choose a restaurant in a little courtyard off the main square and feast again. The wine, food and ambience are first class. I have consumed so much duck and foie gras and Creme brûlée over recent days that I am just about as engorged and bloated as the livers of the ducks and geese! Most of it is duck foie gras, slightly cheaper and with a stronger flavour. I can't get enough of either type. Sorry ducks and geese.
We head back to our accommodation where sweet dreams in the Dordogne await. Well, not for those awaiting impalement!!
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