Château de Chinon

Feel the wind first. It comes up off the river Vienne, climbs the steep slope of pale stone, and pushes against you along the ramparts. Below, slate roofs crowd together in the old town. The walls here are made of tuffeau, the soft, creamy limestone of the Loire Valley. It is warm in sunlight and grey in rain. Touch it and you may feel a faint chalky dust on your fingertips.

You are standing on a long rocky spur that rises above the river. People saw the value of this ridge long before any king did. From up here, you can watch the water, the bridge and the roads in every direction. Over many centuries, builders turned the spur into a fortress. It is not really one castle. It is three, laid end to end along the ridge.

At the eastern end stands Fort Saint-Georges. Most of it is now ruins and open ground. In the centre is the Château du Milieu, the middle castle, with the royal lodgings. At the western tip is Fort du Coudray, guarded by its round towers. Deep ditches once cut the forts off from each other. An attacker who took one fort still faced the next. Walk the full length and you will feel how the defence was meant to work.

This ridge belongs above all to one family — the Plantagenets. In the twelfth century, Henry the Second was King of England. He also ruled huge lands in France, from Normandy down towards the Pyrenees. Chinon sat close to the heart of that territory, and Henry made it one of his favourite strongholds. He died here in 1189, worn out and at war with his own sons. One of those sons was Richard the Lionheart.

Think about that for a moment. For a time, power over much of England and western France was directed from this rocky ridge in Touraine. That is one surprise many visitors miss. The Plantagenet story, often told as English history, is just as much a French story. Henry is not buried here, but nearby, at the Abbey of Fontevraud, alongside his wife, Eleanor of Aquitaine, and Richard.

That empire did not last. In the early thirteenth century, the French king Philip Augustus moved against Henry's son John. After a long siege, Chinon fell to the French crown in 1205. From then on, the fortress served the kings of France. Its role changed. It became a royal residence, a garrison and, in time, a prison.

Walk west to the Fort du Coudray and look at its great round keep, the Tour du Coudray. In 1308, leaders of the Knights Templar were held in this tower. The Templars were a powerful military order of monks, and the French king had them arrested and accused of heresy. Their Grand Master, Jacques de Molay, was among the prisoners. Inside the tower, carvings scratched into the stone are often attributed to the imprisoned knights. Historians still debate exactly who made them and when.

Here is the second surprise. That same year, papal envoys questioned the Templar leaders at Chinon. Their record, now called the Chinon Parchment, shows that the Pope's representatives granted the leaders absolution, a formal forgiveness from the Church. The document was misplaced for centuries in the Vatican archives. A researcher brought it back to public attention in 2001. It does not change the end of the story — the Templars were still destroyed — but it changes how we understand it.

Now come back to the middle castle, the scene of the most famous meeting in Chinon. In 1429, a young peasant woman from eastern France arrived here. Her name was Joan of Arc. France was deep in the Hundred Years' War, a long conflict with England. The heir to the throne, the future Charles the Seventh, was sheltering at Chinon. Joan came to tell him she had a divine mission to save his kingdom.

According to the popular tale, Charles tested her. He hid among his courtiers and placed another man in fine clothes. Joan walked into the great hall, ignored the decoy and went straight to the true heir. Whether every detail happened just this way, no one can say for certain. What is clear is that Charles believed her enough to send her into battle. Within months, she helped lift the siege of Orléans.

After the royal court moved away, the fortress slowly declined. Stone was taken, roofs fell in and walls crumbled. In the nineteenth century, people began to value the ruins again, and conservation work started. In recent decades, a major restoration gave the royal lodgings new roofs and floors. The work was careful and modern, so you can often see where old stone meets new construction. Look at the joins. They are honest, not hidden.

As you walk, notice the entrance. You come in through the Tour de l'Horloge, a tall, very narrow clock tower. From the front it looks thin, almost flat, like a stage set. High above hangs an old bell, which locals have long called Marie Javelle. It still marks the hours. Listen for it while you are on the ramparts. The sound carries out over the rooftops of the town.

The town below has its own stories. The writer François Rabelais was born on a farm near Chinon at the end of the fifteenth century. He filled his comic novels with this countryside. The slopes around you are also covered in vineyards. Chinon wine is made mostly from Cabernet Franc, a red grape, and it is often aged in caves cut into the same pale tuffeau as these walls.

Before you leave, stand at the edge of the ramparts once more. Look down at the river, the long bridge and the old streets. Kings, prisoners and one determined young woman all looked out at this same view. The wind still comes up off the Vienne. The stone is still warm under your hand. As you walk back down the hill, turn around once. Watch the three castles line up along the ridge, the way travellers have seen them for eight hundred years.