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[00:06] This is Crime House. In the 15th century, hundreds of boys and girls went missing in Northern France. At first, their parents assumed they'd just run off or gotten into trouble. Either way, there wasn't much they could do. These people were peasants, so unfortunately, no one really cared about what happened to them. But eventually, the truth came out. There were rumors that a powerful nobleman named Gilles de Rais had some very dark hobbies. Not only did people think he was involved in the spree of child abductions, they suspected that he dabbled in dark magic and experimented with human sacrifice. If the rumors were true, Gilles could face some serious consequences. Not only could he be excommunicated from the church, he might be sentenced to death. The problem was, Gilles was incredibly wealthy and influential. He was also a war hero who'd fought alongside Joan of Arc. Meanwhile, the people who accused him had nothing, and it came down to his word against theirs. So who would the authorities believe? From UFO cults and mass suicides to secret CIA experiments, presidential assassinations, and murderous doctors. These aren't just theories, they're real stories that blur the line between fact and fiction. I'm Vanessa Richardson, and this is Conspiracy Theories, Cults, & Crimes, a Crime House original powered by PAVE Studios. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I'll explore the real people at the center of the world's most shocking events and nefarious organizations. And remember, those Monday episodes will also be on YouTube with full video. You can find them every Saturday. Just search for Conspiracy Theories, Cults, & Crimes, and be sure to like and subscribe. These cases are wild, and I want to hear what you think. At the end of each episode, leave a comment wherever you listen. Be sure to rate, review, and follow so we can continue building this community together. And for ad-free access to all three episodes, subscribe to Crime House Plus on Apple Podcasts. Please note, this episode includes graphic descriptions of child sexual abuse, assault, and murder. Please listen with care. Today, we're diving into the crimes of one of the most depraved killers in history. At the center is a medieval baron named Gilles de Rais. He was one of the richest men in Europe, not to mention a war hero who fought alongside Joan of Arc. But most importantly, he was a terrifying serial killer. Historians believe he sexually assaulted, tortured, and murdered over 150 children at his castles across Western France and Brittany. Some estimates claim he killed upwards of 800 people. Although we may never know the exact scope of his crimes, one thing is certain, Gilles de Rais was a monster. And centuries later, we're still wondering why he wasn't stopped sooner. All that and more coming up. In the fall of 1404, a baby was born at Champ-Tossay Castle in Brittany in Northern France. The child was named Gilles, and as the future baron of De Rais, he was destined for greatness. This was the Middle Ages, when heredity determined everything about your social status. You were either a peasant, a knight, a noble, or royalty, and that's where you stayed. Gilles de Rais was born about as high on the social ladder as you could get without being a king. He was the child of two powerful houses. His father was descended from one of the oldest noble families in France. His mother could trace her bloodline back to King Robert II, who'd reigned over France around 400 years earlier. Together, they owned swaths of land throughout the regions of Brittany, Anjou, and Western France, making them incredibly rich. It wasn't long until Gilles inherited that wealth for himself. We don't know how Gilles' mother died, only that it happened around 1415 when Gilles was 10 or 11. That same year, his father was gored by a wild boar during a hunting trip. Gilles sat by his bedside for days, watching him slowly succumb to his injuries. It must have been traumatic to witness so much death so early in his life. But unfortunately, Gilles' next environment wasn't exactly nurturing. After his parents died, Gilles and his younger brother, René, were taken in by their maternal grandfather, Jean de Crayon. The aging aristocrat was ruthless, cunning, and obsessed with growing his family's wealth. As soon as Gilles and René were in his care, he started plotting to marry them off to the daughters of rich families. Other than that, Jean pretty much ignored his grandsons. Gilles loved the freedom this gave him. He later described his childhood, saying, In my youth, I was allowed to go always according to my own sweet will. But that didn't mean his life was completely devoid of structure. While Gilles could do whatever he wanted in his free time, his grandfather made sure he got an education worthy of a nobleman. Gilles enjoyed reading and became fluent in three languages, but he liked sports a lot more and spent most of his time training in horsemanship and hand-to-hand combat. He knew that one day, these skills would come in handy on the battlefield. Western Europe had been at war for decades by then, and there were always new conflicts cropping up, and Gilles couldn't wait to get his hands dirty. His chance came in 1420 when he was about 16 years old. A local count made a play for the French throne by kidnapping the Duke of Brittany. Gilles' grandfather supported the Duke, and the rebellious count responded by sending bands of thugs onto their lands. Gilles and his grandfather fought back, killing several of the thugs in the process. As far as we know, it was the first time Gilles took a human life, on the battlefield or off. Soon after the battle, Gilles' grandfather finally found him a wife. Catherine de Troyes was rich, beautiful, and Gilles' first cousin. The incestuous nature of the marriage meant they needed special permission from the church before going through with the ceremony. But Gilles wasn't interested in waiting. According to Catherine's parents, he kidnapped her and forced her to marry him. Then he took control of the many estates and fortresses she owned throughout the French countryside. Catherine's relatives were furious, not because he'd abducted her, but because he'd stolen what was theirs. They pressured Gilles to return some of Catherine's estates. Gilles responded by capturing his new wife's relatives and locking them up in his dungeons until they agreed to drop the issue. News of the conflict eventually reached the French Parliament. Gilles was forced to release his prisoners and give back a small portion of the land, but he didn't face any other consequences. It was a lesson that Gilles would remember for the rest of his life. By then he'd learned that it was always better to ask for forgiveness than wait for permission. Consequences could be negotiated, delayed, or avoided entirely. And most importantly, violence and bullying were effective tools for getting what you wanted. And Gilles wanted a lot. In 1425, Gilles turned 21, which meant he could finally take control of his vast inheritance. In addition to clothing, feasts, art, and furniture for his many estates, Gilles had a massive staff and typically traveled with 20 to 30 people. This included servants, clerks, pages, a personal chaplain, and singers to entertain him. His grandfather definitely didn't approve of Gilles' reckless spending, but there was nothing he could do. Gilles was his own man, with his own vices and appetites. And around this time, the darkest of those appetites reared its head. Gilles was still married to Catherine, but it doesn't seem like he ever paid her much attention. Instead, he was drawn to the many young boys who worked at his castles as pages and apprentices. And in 1427, when Gilles was around 23, he became interested in a 10-year-old page nicknamed Poitou. As a nobleman who'd been waited on by servants his whole life, a page boy was like property. The chances of getting caught were low, and most likely no one would think twice if the boy disappeared. His parents would be upset, but children went missing all the time in the Middle Ages. No one would dare question the Baron de Rais for the sake of a commoner. And even if they did, the French crown probably wouldn't take their side. So confident that he wouldn't face any repercussions, Gilles physically and sexually assaulted Poitou. It seems like he planned to murder him too, but had a last-minute change of heart. Instead, Gilles kept him close, promoting him to his personal valet. At the time, Poitou didn't report the assault, and Gilles' abhorrent behavior went unpunished once again. But before Gilles could seek out any more victims, he was called to battle. France and England had technically been at war for decades, but the actual fighting ebbed and flowed depending on who was in power. Recently, the French throne had been vacated, so a new round of fighting sprang up to determine who would fill it. Gilles sided with Charles VII, the son of the last French king, and became a commander in the Royal Army. His violent tendencies and extensive training made him a natural warrior. He won several early conflicts, earning a reputation as a brave and capable general. But while his star was rising, the big picture wasn't looking good. His side was losing, badly. Decades of conflict had broken the French spirit, and it was starting to look like only a miracle would save the country from English rule. In 1429, when Gilles was about 24, their prayers were answered. In early spring, a peasant girl named Joan of Arc, who was around 17 years old, arrived at the royal court. She announced that she'd had visions from the saints and angels instructing her to become a warrior. If Charles VII would give her men to lead, she would march on the besieged city of Orléans and rescue it from the English invaders. Gilles was there the day Joan of Arc made her bold announcement. Like everyone else, he was fascinated and impressed by her conviction. He may have even seen her as a kindred spirit, someone different from everyone else above the laws of the common man. Still, he was probably a little worried when Charles VII gave Joan her army, assigning Gilles to fight by her side. Gilles wasn't afraid of battle, but he wasn't interested in throwing his life away either, and even if he believed God was on their side, it would have been hard to fully trust his life with a teenage girl who'd never commanded an army. Then they reached the city of Orleans, where Joan of Arc's prophecies became reality. In only nine days, she drove back the English forces that had laid siege to the city for about six months. At that point, Gilles couldn't deny that Joan of Arc was chosen by God. By extension, he was too. After all, he was on Joan's side. Her mission was his mission. He'd always known he was special, and now he had proof. Joan of Arc's victory at Orleans revitalized the French soldiers and turned the tide of the war. It also turned Gilles de Rais into a hero and led to Charles VII's coronation. The new king rewarded Gilles for his role in the campaign by naming him Marshal of France. It was a symbolic title, but essentially made him the highest ranked soldier in the country. Gilles had won the respect of his country and his king, but that respect didn't help his growing financial issues. In addition to funding his extravagant lifestyle and massive staff, Gilles was now paying for a personal army that was actively at war. By 1429, when Gilles was around 25, his expenses had burned a serious hole in his pocketbook. He was still ridiculously rich, but most of his money was tied up in property. So to free up some cash, he decided to sell off some family land. His grandfather, Jean, was furious. For years, his sole obsession had been building up the family's land holdings, which would keep them relevant in French politics. He hoped to protect his legacy and name forever. Now, his impulsive grandson was risking it all. Jean quickly bought back the land and publicly insulted Gilles, accusing him of overspending and avoiding his responsibilities. It was a humiliating slap in the face. And just a few months later, Gilles was hit with more disappointment, one that could threaten everything he'd built. In 1430, Joan of Arc was thrown from her horse during battle and captured by the English. Some historians believe that Gilles de Rais may have tried to rescue her. If that's the case, he failed. She was tried for heresy and witchcraft and burned at the stake in front of an estimated 10,000 people. For 25-year-old Gilles, it was the end of a dream. By sticking with Joan of Arc, he'd probably hope to secure his own spot in the history books, maybe even in Heaven. Now, that would never happen. And he had even more disappointment in store. In 1432, when Gilles was about 28, his grandfather died. Joan had never forgiven Gilles for selling off the family land. On his deathbed, he bequeathed his sword and breastplate to Gilles' younger brother, René. Legally speaking, that didn't change anything. As the oldest son, Gilles would still carry on the family name and legacy, but it was a public symbol of rejection, a way for Joan to shame his grandson. It would have been extremely damaging to Gilles' reputation within the royal court. And after that, whatever self-restraint Gilles had shown went out the window. In 1432, the same year his grandfather died, Gilles sent several members of his inner circle to look for young boys he might like. Soon, they found a 12-year-old who was an apprentice for a local craftsman. Gilles' men asked his master if they could pay to have the boy deliver a note to a nearby castle where Gilles was staying. The man agreed, and the boy ran off with the letter. We don't know the exact details of what happened that night, but the boy never returned. And in the coming weeks, many more victims followed in his path. The abductions followed a similar pattern. The victims were mostly boys, but some girls were taken too. All of them were approached by members of Gilles' entourage, who had been tasked with getting the children to the castle. Once they arrived, the victims were given food and spiced wine before being taken upstairs to a private room. Gilles de Rais soon entered, sometimes alone, but often with one or more friends. He liked to start by telling his victims exactly what was about to happen. Okay, a brief disclaimer before I continue. The following is a broad overview of the methods commonly employed by Gilles de Rais. Even without getting into specific incidents, it's extremely disturbing, especially since it involves the sexual assault and torture of minors. I'll keep things as brief as I can, but some level of detail is necessary to understand what he was capable of. If you'd like to skip this section, I'd recommend jumping forward about a minute. After telling the children what was going to happen to them, Gilles tied them up and hung them with a rope or chain connected to a hook in the ceiling. When they were close to passing out, Gilles released and sexually assaulted them. Before the night was done, he murdered the children himself or had one of his friends do it. The victims were killed in different ways, but decapitation and dismemberment were some of Gilles' favorite methods. He would often sit on the victims' chests and look in their eyes as they died. He caressed and performed sex acts with the corpses and liked to keep heads and other body parts as souvenirs. Otherwise, the bodies were cremated in the castle furnaces and the ashes were thrown in the moat. Gilles de Rais had finally unleashed his inner demons, and he didn't seem worried about getting caught. And sadly, he didn't need to be. If any of his victims' parents suspected him, there wasn't much they could do about it. Beyond being incredibly rich, Gilles was a nobleman and a war hero with powerful friends in the French Royal Court. And he didn't have any enemies at the time, except for his own vices. Since his grandfather's death, Gilles' rampant spending had only gotten worse. In addition to funding his decadent lifestyle, he was now paying for several massive projects. In 1435, when Gilles was about 31, he financed a play glorifying his victory at the Battle of Orléans six years earlier. On top of paying the actors, he bought unlimited food and wine for the audience. Meanwhile, he poured money into building a lavish chapel. This was typical of wealthy aristocrats at the time, but Gilles had never shown much interest in religion before. Maybe his experience with Joan of Arc had affected him. Whatever his motivations, the name of the church may offer a clue. Gilles dubbed it the Chapel of the Holy Innocents, a reference to the biblical passage in which King Herod orders the death of male children under two. It was ironic considering that while the church was being built, Gilles and his friends were murdering children by the dozens. The chapel was a major drain on his finances, but Gilles didn't care. Whenever he ran out of money, he simply sold another estate or castle. His relatives were not happy about it. They were afraid that Gilles would destroy their family's reputation and any potential inheritance for their offspring. Desperate to stop him, they wrote to King Charles VII for help. The king heard their complaints and was quick to intervene. He had a vested interest in keeping powerful noble houses around because they maintained their own armies, which the crown could rely on in times of war. He didn't want to see one of his biggest supporters go bankrupt, so in 1435, he issued a royal edict forbidding Gilles de Rais from selling any more land. It was a major blow to Gilles' pride, not to mention his financial freedom, but he wasn't completely out of options because even though Gilles was a member of the French court, several of his properties were in the nearby kingdom of Brittany. Today, that's the region that makes up France's northwestern peninsula, but at the time, it was an independent kingdom ruled by a duke. Gilles and the duke of Brittany went way back. Gilles' grandfather had been one of the duke's major allies and the first battle Gilles had fought in was in support of the duke. That relationship came in handy now. While Gilles was restricted from selling his French properties, he could still offload the ones in Brittany. Gilles and the duke even had a special agreement that Gilles could buy back any property he sold within six years. This allowed Gilles to keep the money flowing for a time, but it wasn't enough to maintain the lifestyle he was accustomed to, so he looked to even darker methods to keep it all going. In 1439, Gilles sent a priest in his entourage to Italy in search of a magician who could help him get his money back. Before long, the priest came back with a young alchemist named François Prélatier, and he was relieved when Prélatier confirmed that he could help. But there was a catch. François told him that alchemy required satanic power. First, they would need to summon a demon by offering it the heart, eyes, and genitals of a child. Gilles was all too happy to go along with it, but there was one other thing the alchemist needed. Prélatier wanted him to offer the demon his everlasting soul, and, for once, Gilles said no. Ultimately, the baron and his alchemist found a compromise. Gilles could keep his soul, as long as he wasn't in the room when François summoned the demon. The men agreed, and Gilles got him what he needed. Gilles abducted a young peasant boy, taking him to one of his castles. After murdering the child, he harvested the organs and delivered them to François, who went into a chamber to summon the demon alone. Gilles and one of his friends listened through the door as the alchemist started the ritual. Everything seemed to go off without a hitch as François chanted his incantations. Then Gilles heard a loud crash. He ripped open the door, and François came stumbling out, bruised, and barely able to walk. He said the demon had gotten angry and attacked him. Gilles was disappointed, but he took the story at face value. He was more convinced than ever that sorcery was the answer to his troubles. The way Gilles saw it, a demon could do more than just make him rich. It could protect him, spy on his enemies, and make him one of the most powerful men in Europe. Over the next few months, he had François summon the demon again and again. These attempts required more human sacrifices, and Gilles continued to rely on his cronies to bring him a steady stream of young victims. They plucked children from the roads and surrounding villages, usually by promising them jobs, food, or money to get them to Gilles' castles. Their parents were devastated when they didn't return, but there wasn't any way for them to seek justice or figure out what had happened. Meanwhile, François was paid well and became an increasingly important member of Gilles' inner circle. He kept his master on the hook with gifts and wild stories. At one point, he gave Gilles a stone pendant covered in black powder, which he claimed was a present from Satan. Those gifts distracted Gilles from the fact that none of the ceremonies actually worked. After one of his attempts at alchemy, François said the demon appeared as a massive snake coiled around a pile of gold coins. He ran out of the room horrified. When he returned with Gilles, there was only dust where the treasure had been. Unsurprisingly, Gilles never got any money back from these experiments, but he didn't lose faith. After several failed attempts at raising the demon, Gilles wasn't any closer to recovering his lost fortune. He became depressed, and the only thing that seemed to improve his mood was more violence. He threw himself into his murders with renewed vigor, abducting several boys throughout the fall of 1439, the same year he met François. It was so bad that by November, even some members of his inner circle couldn't stomach the violence any longer. That month, a priest in Gilles' entourage left the group, fleeing to a nearby inn. While he was hiding out there, he overheard the innkeeper talking about the recent spree of child abductions, and was stunned to discover that the baron's involvement was considered an open secret. Even worse, it was widely known that Gilles dabbled in dark magic and experimented with human sacrifice. One rumor said he was using children's blood as ink to write a book of spells. And while this wasn't entirely accurate, it was close enough to the truth. The word was out, and while the local peasants couldn't stop Gilles, they weren't the only ones he had to worry about. By embracing satanic rituals and black magic, he had unwittingly set himself against a new enemy, and they were more powerful than any he'd faced before. By the beginning of December, 1439, 35-year-old Gilles de Rais learned that a priest in his personal entourage had abandoned him. He immediately flew into a rage and sent one of his servants out to retrieve him. The servant tracked the priest to the inn where he was staying, but he refused to come back. He'd overheard the locals whispering about what went on in the castles of Gilles de Rais. The baron's crimes were now an open secret, which meant it was only a matter of time before the rumors reached more powerful ears, whether they belonged to the king, the church, or the royal court. The servant returned empty handed and told his master what he'd learned. Gilles responded by throwing him in the dungeons, losing a close friend and finding out about the rumors had put him in a dark mood. So to cheer himself up, he went on a killing spree. A few weeks before Christmas of 1439, two young brothers went out begging for alms and never returned. Then on Christmas Day, two more boys disappeared while buying bread at the local market. In both instances, members of Gilles' entourage were near the areas where the children were last seen. When their parents found out, they feared the worst. By this point, Gilles had been actively abducting and murdering minors for over eight years. But his crimes now reached a tipping point. Between January and May of 1440, at least six boys and young teens vanished from the communities around his estates. At the same time, Gilles' financial situation was only getting worse. His attempts at harnessing the power of alchemy had been a massive failure and another huge expense. He'd already sold his most valuable properties in Brittany and was more desperate than ever to refill his coffers. So this time, he decided to try a more straightforward tactic, one that he'd learned from his grandfather. He was going to capture a neighboring estate and bully anyone who challenged him into silence. He set his sights on a castle near the town of Saint Etienne. The estate had once belonged to him. He'd sold it a few years earlier for some quick cash, and it was currently occupied by a well-connected priest named Jean de Ferron. But Gilles still thought of the castle as his property, and he didn't see why he shouldn't have it back. On May 15th, 1440, he led a force of 60 men onto the estate at Saint Etienne. They entered the church while Ferron was celebrating Mass. Gilles rushed the priest with a double-headed axe, screaming that Ferron had better come out of the church or he'd be killed on the spot. Ferron was terrified and immediately surrendered the castle. Gilles had the priest put in chains and locked in the dungeons. Attacking Jean de Ferron at Saint Etienne was a reckless move, even for Gilles de Rais. Aside from being a member of the clergy, Ferron was also the brother of the Duke of Brittany's royal treasurer. By taking the priest hostage, Gilles jeopardized one of the few alliances he had left. Gilles hoped that the Duke of Brittany would overlook the attack on Saint Etienne, but he'd seriously overplayed his hand. The Duke responded by fining him the immense sum of 50,000 gold crowns. Gilles was already hard up for funds, so instead of paying, he fled to another castle at the border of France and Brittany, taking the captured priest with him. For the Duke of Brittany, this was the last straw. He reported the attack on Saint Etienne to the Bishop of Nantes, a powerful church leader who led the diocese where the assault took place. The bishop immediately launched a secret investigation. He sent agents to the area around Gilles' estates, with instructions to question the locals and dig up whatever dirt they could. When they returned, the bishop was stunned. He'd been looking for evidence to support charges of heresy and sacrilege. What he found was even worse. As the bishop conducted his investigation, Gilles and his friends continued their crimes. On their way back from raiding Saint-Etienne, they stopped in a small town to murder a 10-year-old boy. Since they didn't have access to private furnaces, his men threw the body in a nearby latrine. It seems that around this time, Gilles started to get anxious that his attack on the castle had permanently ruined his relations with the Duke of Brittany. So he stopped in an open field to try to summon his demons again. He executed three children as sacrifices. This time, he wasn't after gold, but secrets. He had his alchemist, Francois Preleti, ask the demon if the Duke had turned against him. Supposedly, the alchemist relayed that Gilles had nothing to worry about. In reality, nothing could have been further from the truth. At that moment, the Bishop of Nantes and the Duke of Brittany were hard at work plotting the baron's downfall. Gilles de Rais had dodged consequences like this his entire life, but they were finally catching up with him. On July 29th, 1440, two and a half months after 36-year-old Gilles de Rais attacked the castle in Saint-Etienne, the Bishop of Nantes published a public report accusing Gilles of a shocking list of crimes. They included heresy, sodomy, murder, and invoking demons. When Gilles heard about the accusations, he was unfazed. He figured the Bishop's report was based entirely on rumors. None of the commoners had any first-hand knowledge of his crimes, no bodies or other evidence had been recovered, and his alchemist had promised Gilles, via demon, that there was nothing to worry about. In short, it was Gilles' word against a handful of peasants. He was confident that he would come out unscathed, just as he had his entire life. But not all of his friends agreed. Two of his cousins sensed that the group's days were numbered. They fled his castle in Brittany and were never heard from again. For the most part though, Gilles' entourage stayed by his side. They waited for two weeks, praying that nothing came of the bishop's report. They were wrong. On September 15th, 1440, the company of soldiers loyal to the Duke of Brittany arrived outside the castle gates with orders to take the baron and his friends into custody. Gilles didn't resist the arrest. At this point, Gilles probably thought he was only being prosecuted for the attack on Saint Etienne. When he arrived at Nantes, this seemed to be confirmed. On September 19th, four days after his arrest, the ecclesiastical court, which was run by the church, charged him with heresy for attacking a priest. But there was no mention of the other horrific crimes mentioned in the bishop's scathing report. Gilles breathed easy, confident that he would soon walk free. But things were just getting started. While the ecclesiastical trial was going on, a second civil trial had been proceeding in secret. This one was overseen by the chief judge of Brittany and would focus on the rampant rumors of child murder and human sacrifice. For several days, the judge heard from the parents of the missing children, many of whom were last seen with Gilles' men. He also questioned Gilles' inner circle. But first, they tortured them to make sure they would comply. One of the men who broke first was Poitou, the valet who had been working for Gilles since he was 10 years old. Poitou described the traumatic sexual assault that began their relationship and then went on to describe the baron's prolific murder spree. While Poitou was being tortured, Gilles still had no idea how serious his situation had become. Finally, on October 8th, 1440, a little less than a month after he was arrested, he was called to stand before the civil court. Gilles listened in horror as the prosecution laid out the charges. The indictment accused him of murdering, torturing, and sexually assaulting over 140 boys and girls. It also described his attempts to summon demons and his crimes against the Catholic Church. When asked to respond, Gilles exploded with fury, ranting that he would rather be hanged by the neck than listen to such baseless charges. After four failed attempts to get him to enter a formal plea, the judge was fed up. At his request, the Bishop of Nantes stepped in and excommunicated Gilles de Rais on the spot. For Gilles, this might have been even worse than death. Being excommunicated meant that he was officially severed from the Catholic Church and could not receive communion or a Catholic funeral. And it also suggested that his soul was in danger of eternal damnation. And considering what he'd done, he was not set up for an enjoyable afterlife. The day after his outburst in court, Gilles de Rais appeared before the judge, and tearfully apologized for his behavior, admitting that he was guilty of the countless murders. The apology worked. The Bishop of Nantes decided that Gilles had shown sincere remorse and lifted the excommunication. But the trial wasn't quite over yet. The judge wanted him to confess to everything, including the human sacrifice and demon summoning. Gilles resisted until he was threatened with torture. He'd inflicted plenty of pain and torment on his victims over the years, but he was terrified of experiencing the same thing. He confessed to everything, first in a private meeting with the chief judge, then before the whole court. After Gilles' confession, the civil court quickly found him guilty and sentenced him to death. His execution was carried out just a few days after the trial, on October 26th, 1440. The baron spent several minutes addressing the sizable crowd. By most accounts, he was regretful and repeated that he was guilty of everything he'd been accused of. He even begged the parents in the crowd to be strict with their children so that they didn't turn out like him. Finally, Gilles climbed onto the platform, which was set aflame as a noose was tied around his neck. This was unusual. Noblemen were typically put to death by beheading, which was considered the most honorable and painless method of capital punishment. Hanging was the most common form of execution reserved for the lowest classes. On top of that, Gilles was also burned, which was typically reserved for heretics, witches, and sodomites. Despite the pageantry, it seemed like he died quickly, and despite the nature of his execution, he was still allowed to be buried in a Catholic church that Gilles had personally selected. Even in death, Gilles had managed to get special treatment. Long after his death, Gilles de Rais has a complicated legacy. He's often cited as the inspiration for the French fairy tale Bluebeard, written two and a half centuries later in 1697. The story features a powerful nobleman who murders his wives and hides their bodies in an underground chamber beneath the castle. The connection between the fictional Bluebeard and Gilles de Rais is tenuous, though. They don't have much in common besides both being noblemen and serial killers. And even that's been debated. In recent decades, revisionist historians have gained traction online by defending Gilles de Rais, painting him as the victim of a politically motivated hit squad. They argue that his confession and those of his companions are untrustworthy since they were made under threat of torture and excommunication. Which is true, but it doesn't account for the missing children or the parents who came forward to accuse him. Many historians still agree that Gilles de Rais was a prolific and terrifying serial killer. But the strangest part of his story is that the person who committed those crimes was also a man of faith. Gilles de Rais cared about going to heaven. He proved it when he refused to use his soul as a bartering chip to summon demons. He showed it again when he confessed to avoid excommunication. At the same time, he committed countless atrocities that violated the most sacred laws of the religion he claimed to follow. It's difficult to imagine how he made sense of this contradiction in his mind. Most people with Gilles' faith would probably assume his soul was beyond saving, but he clearly didn't see it that way. In the end, I think it's clear that Gilles believed in himself more than anything. For years, he thought he could get away with murder, and when he was finally held accountable, he thought he could still get to heaven. His faith in his own superiority drove him to cross one legal and ethical boundary after another, while justifying every dark impulse. Meanwhile, his incredible wealth protected him long after he should have been caught. As long as he prayed on the weak and poor, he was untouchable. But once he targeted someone more powerful, he finally learned that he wasn't as special as he believed. Thanks so much for listening. I'm Vanessa Richardson, and this is Conspiracy Theories, Cults, & Crimes. Come back next time. We'll decode the episode together and hear another story about the real people at the center of the world's most notorious cults, conspiracies, and criminal acts. Conspiracy Theories, Cults, & Crimes is a Crime House original powered by PAVE Studios. Here at Crime House, we wanna thank each and every one of you for your support. If you like what you heard today, reach out on social media, at Crime House on TikTok and Instagram. Don't forget to rate, review, and follow Conspiracy Theories, Cults, & Crimes wherever you get your podcasts. Your feedback truly makes a difference. And to enhance your Conspiracy Theories, Cults, & Crimes listening experience, subscribe to Crime House Plus on Apple podcasts. You'll get every episode ad free. We'll be back on Monday. Conspiracy Theories, Cults, & Crimes is hosted by me, Vanessa Richardson, and is a Crime House original powered by PAVE Studios. This episode was brought to life by the Conspiracy Theories, Cults, & Crimes team. Max Cutler, Ron Shapiro, Alex Benedon, Natalie Pertsofsky, Lori Marinelli, Sarah Camp, Catherine Barner, Kaylee Pine, and Michael Langsner. Thank you for listening.