Château de Pau

Start with the ground under your feet. The path to the castle crosses a bridge, and the stone here is worn smooth by centuries of boots, carriages and tourists. Look up and you will see two kinds of material side by side: pale stone and deep red brick. Listen, too. Below the walls, the Gave de Pau river runs fast and cold out of the mountains. On a clear day, the Pyrenees stand along the southern horizon, sometimes still white with snow. This is the Château de Pau, and it has watched over this river crossing for a very long time.

The town and the castle grew up together. Locals say the name Pau comes from an old word in the regional language for a stake or a post, the kind used to build a wooden fence. According to this popular story, the first settlement here was marked out by a ring of stakes. Whether the tale is exact or not, the idea fits the place. This ridge above the river was a natural spot to defend, to watch the valley, and to control who crossed the water.

The castle became truly important in the fourteenth century. That was the age of Gaston Fébus, the Count of Foix and Béarn. Béarn was a small, proud territory in the foothills of the Pyrenees, and for long stretches it acted almost like an independent state. Fébus was a soldier, a hunter, and a writer. He is remembered for a famous book on hunting. He strengthened castles across his lands, and here at Pau he left his mark in brick.

Find the tall, square tower built of red brick. This is the keep, often called the Gaston Fébus tower. Brick was a practical choice in this region. It was cheaper than cut stone and quick to lay. Notice how heavy and closed the tower looks compared with the rest of the building. It was built for defence, not for comfort. It has few windows and thick walls. This is the oldest feeling of the castle — a fortress first, a palace much later.

In the sixteenth century, the mood of the castle changed completely. The rulers of Navarre and Béarn, the Albret family, turned the old fortress into a Renaissance residence. The key figure was Marguerite of Navarre. She was the sister of King Francis the First of France, and she married Henri d'Albret, King of Navarre. Marguerite was one of the most educated women of her time. She was a writer and a patron of poets and thinkers. Her best-known work is a collection of stories called the Heptaméron.

Under Marguerite, the castle filled with books, music and conversation. Writers and religious reformers found a welcome here at a time when new ideas could be dangerous elsewhere. When you walk into the inner courtyard, look at the windows and the carved stone decoration. Here, the heavy defensive walls open up to light. The Renaissance style arrived from Italy through the French court, and it favoured balance, symmetry and classical ornament. You can see that change from fortress to palace in the stone itself.

Now the most famous moment in the castle's story. In 1553, a baby was born here who would become King Henry the Fourth of France. He was the grandson of Marguerite and Henri d'Albret. His mother was Jeanne d'Albret, a strong-minded queen who later became a leader of the Protestant cause. Henry grew up to rule as King of Navarre and then as King of France. For many French people, he became a favourite king. He is remembered for ending decades of religious war.

The stories about his birth are some of the best-loved legends in France. According to the popular tale, his mother sang a song in the local language during labour, so that her child would be born brave. Legend also says that his grandfather rubbed the newborn's lips with garlic and gave him a drop of the local wine from Jurançon. These details are folklore rather than proven history. But you will hear them everywhere in Pau, and they say a lot about how fondly this region remembers him.

Inside, one object draws more attention than almost anything else. It is a large tortoise shell, displayed as the cradle of the infant Henry. Here is something many visitors miss: historians have long debated whether this is truly the original shell. Over the centuries, the cradle became a kind of relic. Stories say it was protected and hidden during the turmoil of the French Revolution. Whatever its true history, it shows how strongly people wanted to touch the memory of this king.

Here is a second surprise. Much of what you see inside today is not from Henry's lifetime at all. After the Revolution, the castle had been neglected and emptied. In the nineteenth century, French rulers restored it with great energy, first under King Louis-Philippe and then under Emperor Napoleon the Third. They wanted to celebrate Henry the Fourth as a national hero. So the rooms were refurnished and decorated in a romantic version of the Renaissance. In a way, you are seeing the past through nineteenth-century eyes.

That restoration also brought one of the castle's great treasures — its tapestries. The castle holds a large collection of woven wall hangings, many from the royal workshops of the Gobelins in Paris and from Flanders. Tapestries were not only decoration. They kept stone rooms warmer, and they could be rolled up and carried when a court travelled. Look closely at the borders and the small figures. The colours have softened with age, but the detail of the weaving still holds up under close inspection.

As you move through the rooms, watch for the long dining hall with its very large table, made to seat a crowd of guests. Look up at the ceilings, too, and at the carved stone of the grand staircase. The castle is now a national museum, and the rooms are arranged to tell Henry's story from cradle to crown. Take your time. The pleasure here is in small things — a carved initial, a painted portrait, the view from a window.

When you step back outside, walk to the edge of the castle grounds and look south. Just nearby, the Boulevard des Pyrénées runs along the ridge. It is a long terrace built for one purpose: to look at the mountains. In the nineteenth century, Pau became a winter resort, popular with British visitors who came for the mild climate. They walked here, took the air, and admired the same view. The castle and the mountains have always been seen together.

Before you go, pause for a moment on the bridge. Listen again to the river below. Look once more at the red brick tower and the pale stone of the Renaissance wings beside it. One part was built for war, the other for books and conversation. Then there is the legend of a baby, a tortoise shell, a clove of garlic, and a king. As you walk back into town, notice how often you see his name — on streets, on shop signs, on statues. Pau still keeps Henry close.