Fete de Sainte Foy

The parvis of the church is full of pilgrims and villagers come to celebrate the fete of Sainte Foy. It's a few days off, but they gather still to enjoy the company. A clear, starry night, cold autumn, the glow of the changing trees is wrapped in darkness. Tonight the only glow is from the flickering torches that light the square and cast long shadows up the sides of the half-timbered houses flanking the parvis. Musicians cluster around a stone bench--flute, tamborine, lute--a voice high and clear sings a haunting tune in the old Occitan language. Strangers from the north can't understand the words, but they feel the story of love, sorrow and prayers to the 'little saint' stir their souls. Wrapped against the cold, the people mingle, eating handsfull of roast chestnuts, looking for family, conducting trade with peddlers, and sharing stories from the pilgrim trail, the Via Podensis. A small, roughly garbed monk wanders midst the crowd, his heavy robe and cowl enveloping his features. In a people small of stature, this monk is smaller still, but no one questions his presence. He's simply another pilgrim, a faithful wanderer in search of Sainte Foy this year. By next year, he will seek St. Jacques at Santiago de Compostelle. Small feet slipped into the roughest of thick wool stockings and shod in hard leather and wood sandals tread softly on the stones. Deep in the sleeves of his robe, surprisingly small, slender fingers pray the beads. Who is this strange monk who stands close to a knot of women sharing stories of children and kitchens? The men trading gold nuggets quietly by the fountain barely notice the cleric's presence as he dips a cup of water and leans in to hear their conversation about the gleaming gold and the fine jewelry it will produce. If anyone cared, if anyone looked closely at the face mostly hidden by the robe's deep cowl, they would see not the whiskered face of an old monk, but the sweet, fresh face of a young girl, her eyes sparkling with the excitement of the music, the stories, and the glittering gold. This child, almost a woman, has come to the 'little saint's' celebration. Sainte Foy is here enjoying her disguise, enjoying her fete, enjoying her faithful people.

Click the appropriate link if you are interested in learning more about Sainte Foy, her Abbey Church at Conques, or the village of Conques. "Little Saint" by Hannah Green is a beautifully written book that weaves all these stories together in a personal memoir of discovery from the author's many visits to Conques.