Long before the towers, it is the marshes that announce Aigues-Mortes. The barge advances on the Rhône à Sète canal between stretches of flat water where egrets and flamingos fish, in a landscape so horizontal that the gaze carries for kilometres. Then a rectangular wall stands out from the plain, intact for seven centuries, without the slightest hill to support it. The mooring lies at the foot of the rampart: a few dozen metres separate the gangway from the Gardette Gate.

The City of Saint Louis

In the mid-thirteenth century, the kingdom of France possessed no direct access to the Mediterranean. Louis IX had this mooring developed amid the marshes and embarked here for the crusade in 1248, then again in 1270. His successors completed the ramparts: a quadrilateral of 1,640 metres, pierced with gates and punctuated with towers, which the centuries have left practically intact. No late reconstruction, no decorative additions; simply the blonde stone of the original, laid on sand, facing the wind from the open sea.

The Tower of Constance

At the north-west corner stands a circular keep of 33 metres that long served as a state prison. Huguenot women were locked here after the revocation of the Edict of Nantes; Marie Durand spent thirty-eight years there, and a word attributed to her hand—"REGISTER" (resist)—is engraved on the rim of the well, still visible in the upper chamber. The ticket also grants access to the rampart walk. Up there, the panorama embraces the crowded roofs of the town, the marshes and the salt works that gleam to the south.

The Chequerboard of Streets

Coming down, it is impossible to lose your way: the streets were laid out by line at the foundation, following a chequerboard plan inherited from medieval new towns. Saint Louis Square, shaded with plane trees around the statue of the king, aligns terraces, ice-cream parlours and shops of local producers. Just beside, the Church of Notre-Dame-des-Sablons, older than the ramparts, surprises with its contemporary stained glass that tints the nave with frank blues and golds. Allow an hour of strolling to make the circuit, more if the market stalls detain you.

The Salt Works and the Land of Bulls

Three kilometres from the gates, the Aigues-Mortes Salt Works can be toured by small train or bicycle. A microalgae gives the basins their pink hue, spectacular in summer, and the salt workers still harvest the flower of salt by hand there. The camelles, these white hills piled up after harvest, are visible from the ramparts. All around begins the Camargue: black bulls, white horses, reed beds and herds, a territory explored by organised excursion when the port of call lasts the full day.

The Port of Call at a Glance

The Taste That Lingers

As the lines are cast off, the wall recedes slowly behind the reeds. There remains on the lips a salty breath, in the eyes images of blonde stone and pink water, and this singular idea: a king built here an embarkadère to depart to the ends of the earth, and it is today one of those places where one would rather stay.