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Friday, November 24, 2017

A Royal Abduction?

In November 1190, Princess Isabella of Jerusalem, then 18 years old, was forcibly removed from the tent she was sharing with her husband Humphrey of Toron in the Christian camp besieging the city of Acre.  Just days earlier, her elder sister, Queen Sibylla, had died, making Isabella the hereditary queen of the all-but-non-existent -- yet symbolically important-- Kingdom of Jerusalem.  A short time after her abduction, she married Conrad Marquis de Montferrat, making him, through her, the de facto King of Jerusalem.  This high-profile abduction and marriage scandalized the church chroniclers and is often sited to this day as evidence of the perfidy of Conrad de Montferrat and his accomplices. Dr. Schrader explores the implications of this "abduction" and the pseudo-shock of contemporaries and chroniclers.

The anonymous author of the Itinerarium Peregrinorum et Gesta Regis Ricardi (Itinerarium), for example, describes with blistering outrage how Conrad de Montferrat had long schemed to “steal” the throne of Jerusalem, and at last stuck upon the idea of abducting Isabella—a crime he compares to the abduction of Helen of Sparta by Paris of Troy “only worse.”  To achieve his plan, the Itinerarium claims, Conrad “surpassed the deceits of Sinon, the eloquence of Ulysses and the forked tongue of Mithridates.” Conrad, according to this English cleric writing after the fact, set about bribing, flattering and corrupting bishops and barons alike as never before in recorded history. Throughout, the chronicler says, Conrad was aided and abetted by three barons of the Kingdom of Jerusalem (Sidon, Haifa and Ibelin) who combined (according to our chronicler) “the treachery of Judas, the cruelty of Nero, and the wickedness of Herod, and everything the present age abhors and ancient times condemned.” Really? The author certainly brings no evidence of a single act of treachery, cruelty, or wickedness — beyond this one allleged abduction, which (as we shall see) was hardly a case of rape as we shall see.

Indeed, this chronicler himself admits that Isabella was not removed from Humphrey’s tent by Conrad himself, nor was she handed over to him. On the contrary she was put into the care of clerical “sequesters,” with a mandate to assure her safety and prevent a further abduction, “while a clerical court debated the case for a divorce.” Furthermore, in the very next paragraph our anonymous slanderer of some of the most courageous and pious lords of Jerusalem, declares that although Isabella at first resisted the idea of divorcing her husband Humphrey, she was soon persuaded to consent to divorce because “a woman’s opinion changes very easily” and “a girl is easily taught to do what is morally wrong.” 

While the Itinerarium admits that Isabella’s marriage to Humphrey was reviewed by a church court, it hides this fact under the abuse it heaps upon the clerics involved. Another contemporary chronicle, the Lyon continuation of William of Tyre, explains in far more neutral and objective language that that the case hinged on the important principle of consent. By the 12th century, marriage could only be valid in canonical law if both parties (i.e. including Isabella) consented. The issue at hand was whether Isabella had consented to her marriage to Humphrey at the time it was contracted.  

The Lyon Continuation further notes that Isabella and Humphrey testified before the church tribunal separately. In her testimony, Isabella asserted she had not consented to her marriage to Humphrey, while Humphrey claimed she had. The Lyon Continuation also provides the colorful detail that another witness, who had been present at Isabella and Humphrey's wedding, at once called Humphrey a liar, and challenged him to prove he spoke the truth in combat. Humphrey, the chronicler says, refused to “take up the gage.” At this point the chronicler states that Humphrey was “cowardly and effeminate.” 

Both accounts (the Itinerarium and the Lyon Continuation) agree that following the testimony and deliberations the Church council ruled that Isabella’s marriage to Humphrey was invalid. There was only one dissenting voice, that of the Archbishop of Canterbury. However, both chroniclers insist that this decision was reached because Conrad corrupted all the other clerics, particularly the Papal legate, the Archbishop of Pisa. The Lyon Continuation claims that the Archbishop of Pisa ruled the marriage invalid and allowed Isabella to marry Conrad only because Conrad promised commercial advantages for Pisa from should he win Isabella and become king. The Itinerarium on the other hand claims Conrad “poured out enormous generosity to corrupt judicial integrity with the enchantment of gold.”

There are a lot of problems with the clerical outrage over Isabella’s “abduction” — not to mention the dismissal of Isabella’s change of heart as the inherent moral frailty of females. There are also problems with the slander heaped on the barons and bishops, who dared to support Conrad de Montferrat's suit for Isabella.

Let’s go back to the basic facts of the case as laid out by the chroniclers themselves but stripped of moral judgements and slander:

  • Isabella was removed from Humphrey de Toron’s tent against her will.
  • She was not, however, taken by Conrad or raped by him.
  • Rather she was turned over to neutral third parties, sequestered and protected by them.
  • Meanwhile, a church court was convened to rule on the validity of her marriage to Humphrey.
  • The case hinged on the important theological principle of consent. (Note: In the 12th Century, both parties to a marriage had to consent. To consent they had be legally of age. The legal age of consent for girls was 12.)
  • Humphrey claimed that Isabella had consented to the marriage, but when challenged by a witness to the wedding he “said nothing” and backed down.
  • Isabella, meanwhile, had “changed her mind” and consented to the divorce.
  • The court ruled that Isabella's marriage to Humphrey had not been valid.
  • On Nov. 25, with either the French Bishop of Beauvais or the Papal Legate himself presiding, Isabella married Conrad.  Since a clerical court had just ruled that no marriage was valid without the consent of the bride, we can be confident that she consented to this marriage. In fact, as the Itinerarium so reports (vituperously) reports, “she was not ashamed to say…she went with the Marquis of her own accord.”

To understand what really happened in the siege camp of Acre in November 1190, we need to look beyond what the church chronicles write about the abduction itself.  The story really begins in 1180 when Isabella was just eight years old. Until this time, Isabella had lived in the care and custody of her mother, the Byzantine Princess and Dowager Queen of Jerusalem, Maria Commena. In 1180, King Baldwin IV (Isabella’s half-brother) arranged the betrothal of Isabella to Humphrey de Toron. Having promised this marriage without the consent of Isabella’s mother or step-father, the king ordered the physical removed of Isabella from her mother and step-father’s care and sent her to live with her future husband, his mother and his step-father. The latter was the infamous Reynald de Chatillon, notorious for having seduced the Princess of Antioch, tortured the Archbishop of Antioch, and sacked the Christian island of Cyprus. Isabella was effectively imprisoned in his border fortress at Kerak and his wife, Stephanie de Milly explicitly prohibited Isabella from even visiting her mother for three years.

In December 1183, when Isabella was just eleven years old, Reynald and his wife held a marriage feast to celebrate the wedding of Isabella and Humphrey. They invited all the nobles of the kingdom to witness the feast. Unfortunately, before most of the wedding guests could arrive, Saladin's army surrounded the castle and laid siege to it. The wedding took place, and a few weeks later the army of Jerusalem relieved the castle, chasing Saladin’s forces away. 

Note, at the time the wedding took place, Isabella was not only a prisoner of her in-laws, she was only eleven years old. Canonical law in the 12th century, however, established the “age of consent” for girls at 12. Isabella could not legally consent to her wedding, even if she wanted to. The marriage had been planned by the King, however, and carried out by one of the most powerful barons during a crisis. No one seems to have dared challenge it at the time.

At the death of Baldwin V three years later, Isabella’s older sister, Queen Sibylla, was first in line to the throne but found herself opposed by almost the entire High Court of Jerusalem (that constitutionally was required to consent to each new monarch). The opposition sprang not from objections Sibylla herself, but from the fact that the bishops and barons of the kingdom almost unanimously detested her husband, Guy de Lusignan. Although she could not gain the consent of the High Court necessary to make her coronation legal, she managed to convince a minority of the lords secular and ecclesiastical to crown her queen by promising to divorce Guy and choose a new husband. Once anointed, Sibylla promptly betrayed her supporters by declaring that her “new” husband was the same as her old husband: Guy de Lusignan. She then crowned him herself (at least according to some accounts). 

This struck many people at the time as duplicitous, to say the least, and the majority of the barons and bishops decided that since she had not had their consent in the first place, she and her husband were usurpers. They agreed to crown her younger sister Isabella (now 14 years old) instead.  The assumption was that since they commanded far larger numbers of troops than did Sibylla’s supporters (many of whom now felt duped and were dissatisfied anyway, no doubt), they would be able to quickly depose of Sibylla and Guy. 

The plan, however, came to nothing because Isabella’s husband, Humphrey de Toron, had no stomach for a civil war (or a crown, it seems), and chose to sneak away in the dark of night to do homage to Sibylla and Guy. The baronial revolt collapsed. Almost everyone eventually did homage to Guy, and he promptly led them all to an avoidable defeat at the Battle of Hattin. With the field army annihilated, the complete occupation of the Kingdom by the forces of Saladin followed – with the important exception of Tyre. Tyre only avoided the fate of the rest of the kingdom because of the timely arrival of a certain Italian nobleman, Conrad de Montferrat, who rallied the defenders and defied Saladin. 

Montferrat came from a very good and very well connected family. He was first cousin to both the Holy Roman Emperor and King Louis VII of France. Furthermore, his elder brother had been Sibylla of Jerusalem’s first husband (before Guy), and his younger brother had been married to the daughter of the Byzantine Emperor Manuel I. Furthermore, he defended Tyre twice against the vastly superior armies of Saladin, and by holding Tyre he enabled the Christians to retain a bridgehead by which troops, weapons and supplies could be funneled back into the Holy Land for a new crusade to retake Jerusalem. While Conrad was preforming this heroic function, Guy de Lusignan was an (admittedly unwilling) “guest” of Saladin, a prisoner of war following his self-engineered defeat at Hattin.  

So at the time of the infamous abduction, Guy was an anointed king, but one who derived his right to the throne from his now deceased wife (Sibylla died in early November 1190, remember), and furthermore a king viewed by most of his subjects as a usurper—even before he’d lost the entire kingdom through his incompetence. It is fair to say that in November 1190 Guy was not popular among the surviving barons and bishops of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, and they were eager to see the kingdom pass into the hands of someone they respected and trusted. The death of Sibylla provided the perfect opportunity to crown a new king because with her death the crown legally passed to her sister Isabella, and, according to the Constitution of the Kingdom, the husband of the queen ruled with her as her consort.

The problem faced by the barons and bishops of Jerusalem in 1190, however, was that Isabella was still married to the same man who had betrayed them in 1186: Humphrey de Toron. He was clearly not interested in a crown, and it didn’t help matters that he’d been in a Saracen prison for two years. Perhaps more damning still, he was allegedly “more like a woman than a man: he had a gentle manner and a stammer.”(According to the Itinerarium.)

Whatever the reason, we know that the barons and bishops of Jerusalem were not prepared to make the same mistake they had made four years earlier when they had done homage to a man they knew was incompetent (Guy de Lusignan). They absolutely refused to acknowledge Isabella’s right to the throne, unless she had first set aside her unsuitable husband and taken a man acceptable to them. We know this because the Lyon Continuation is based on a lost chronicle written by a certain Ernoul, who as an intimate of the Ibelin family and so of Isabella and her mother, and provides the following insight. Having admitted that Isabella “did not want to [divorce Humphrey], because she loved [him],” the Lyon Continuation explains that her mother Maria persuasively argued that so long as she (Isabella) was Humphrey’s wife “she could have neither honor nor her father’s kingdom.” Moreover, Queen Maria reminded her daughter that “when she had married she was still under age and for that reason the validity of the marriage could be challenged.” At which point, the continuation of Tyre reports, “Isabella consented to her mother’s wishes.” 

In short, Isabella had a change of heart during the church trial not because “woman’s opinion changes very easily,” but because she was a realist—who wanted a crown. Far from being a victim, manipulated by others, or a fickle, immoral girl, she was an intelligent young woman with an understanding of politics. 

As for the church court, it was not “corrupted” by Conrad or anyone else. It simply faced the unalterable fact that Isabella had very publicly wed Humphrey before she reached the legal age of consent. In short, whether she had voiced consent or not, indeed whether she loved, adored and positively desired Humphrey or not, she was not legally capable of consenting. 

No violent abduction, and no travesty of justice took place in Acre in 1190. Rather a mature young woman recognized that it was in her best interests -- and the best interests of her kingdom -- to divorce an unpopular and ineffective husband in order to marry a man respected by the peers oft he realm. To do so, she allowed the marriage she had contracted as an eleven-year-old to be recognized for what it was -- a mockery. Isabella's marriage in 1183 as a child prisoner of a notoriously brutal man not her marriage in 1190 as an 18 year old queen was the real "abduction" of Isabella.
Dr. Helena P. Schrader holds a PhD in History.
She is the Chief Editor of the Real Crusades History Blog.
She is an award-winning novelist and author of numerous books both fiction and non-fiction. Her three-part biography of Balian d'Ibelin won a total of 14 literary accolades. Her most recent release is a novel about the founding of the crusader Kingdom of Cyprus. You can find out more at: http://crusaderkingdoms.com 

Isabella, Humphrey, her mother Maria and her step-father are major characters in Schrader's award-winning three-part biography of Balian d'Ibelin.

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Saturday, November 18, 2017

The Battle of Cutanda, 1120

In the second decade of the twelfth century, Alfonso the Battler, King of Aragon and Navarre, made enormous gains against the Almoravids by conquering important portions of the Ebro River Valley, including the cities of Zaragoza and Tudela. The loss of Zaragoza was perhaps the greatest disaster for Iberian Islam since the passage of Toledo into Christian hands in 1085. Ali ibn-Yusuf, the Almoravid ruler, reacted by mustering an army to check Alfonso’s advance.

By the spring of 1120, the Battler had already put Calatayud to siege, and had even dispatched troops to capture Daroca. Ali ibn-Yusuf selected his brother, Ibrahim ibn-Yusuf, governor of Seville, to lead the expedition against the Aragonese. Ibrahim was one of Ali’s most trusted and talented generals, who had proven himself over the years in Iberian politics. Ibrahim marched his army toward Alfonso’s position, joined en-route by Mohammedan forces from Murcia, Granada, and Lérida. The full Almoravid army that then moved to attack Alfonso probably numbered around 2,500 cavalry and 5,000 infantry.

Alfonso's army annihilated the Almoravids at Cutanda

Alfonso had good intelligence on their approach, and mustered his troops for a counter-attack. In addition to Alfonso’s Aragonese and Navarrese troops, he had considerable French allies with him, including the army of Count William of Poitiers. This was a rare instance in which the Christian army may have slightly outnumbered the Mohammedan troops.

Alfonso took the Almoravids by surprise on June 17th near the village of Cutanda, in the Jiloca River Valley. A series of punishing cavalry charges led by the Battler himself utterly devastated the Almoravids. So total was the destruction visited upon the Mohammedan forces that for years afterwards a saying endured that the unlucky “were like the vanquished at Cutanda.” As a result, Calatayud and Daroca fell to the Christians. Alfonso the Battler’s conquests were some of the most devastating losses for al-Andalus during the early twelfth century. Never again would the Almoravids attempt to take the Frontera Superior from the Aragonese.

Friday, November 17, 2017

Armies of Saladin

The crusader kingdoms consistently faced an enemy that significantly outnumbered them and it is often this sense of "massive hordes" that dominates descriptions of Saracen armies. Yet while the size of Saracen armies was certainly a factor in their success, it was by no means their only significant feature. On the contrary, Saracen armies were extremely complex and understanding them better helps explain Frankish tactics. Dr. Schrader explains below.
Army of Saladin in the film "The Kingdom of Heaven"
Perhaps the most important yet often forgotten characteristic of Saracen armies was their ethnic diversity. The term "Saracen" simply means "Easterner" and referred collectively to the Muslim opponents of the crusaders.  Yet while the use of this term is convenient, it plasters over and so disguises the ethnic differences within the "Saracen" armies. The "Saracen" armies included not only Arabs and Turks, the two largest ethnic groups engaged in warfare against the crusaders. They also included Kurds (Saladin himself was a Kurd), Nubians, and Berbers. Furthermore, the Arab elements need to be sub-divided into Syrians, Bedouins and Egyptians, and the term "Turk" actually covers a variety of Turkmenish tribes. 

Each of these ethnic groups had their own more or less distinct ways of fighting along with their own language, dress, and preferred weapons. In broad terms, the Nubians were famous infantry archers, who fought with large powerful bows but without shields of any kind, making them very vulnerable in close engagements.  The Arabs, Kurds and Berbers generally fought on horseback with lance, javelin and sword, but Bedouins fought more often as infantry archers. The Turks were the masters of mounted archery. 

It was the Turks with their highly mobile cavalry and mounted archers that most impressed the crusaders. Based on Christian descriptions, the crusaders found the infantry and even the heavy cavalry of their opponents unremarkable. The mounted archers on the other hand, with their tactics of pressing in close for a volley of arrows only to flee when challenged, frustrated and won grudging respect from the Franks. The Turkish tactic of pretending flight to lure Frankish cavalry into an ambush was well-recorded and highly effective--over and over again. The comparison to a pesky fly is colorful but somewhat deceptive since these "flies" could kill. 

The diversity of tradition in Saracen armies had advantages and disadvantages. Good commanders could exploit the strengths of their various troops and use them to complement one another. Less effective commanders found their armies disintegrating or the units operating independently of one another. It was easy for the infantry to get left behind, forgotten and slaughtered. Cavalry without infantry support was vulnerable when they stopped to rest and water their horses, and utterly useless in siege warfare--which was the dominant form of engagement in the crusader period.

In addition to the ethnic differences within the Saracen armies, there were different kinds of service as well. At the one extreme and completely unknown in the West, Saracen commanders always had a contingent of slave-soldiers completely devoted to them. These slave-soldiers or Mamlukes (also Mamelukes and Mamluks) formed the personal body-guard of commanders and lords. They were composed of men who had been acquired as children (carefully selected, one presumes, for their physical appearance and health) and trained meticulously and rigorously for years to make them crack troops. Although technically "freed" on completion of training, they remained emotionally and financially bound to their master. They were professionals, with no other interests or purpose other than to serving their master in war.

In contrast, the bulk of the troops in a Saracen army were similar to feudal levees in the West. They were men with land and families, who served in the army when called-up, or as volunteers, but who were not professional soldiers. The quality of such troops obviously varied widely. Some of them, young, virile and ambitious were undoubtedly very good. Others, aging, ailing or just disinterested, were not so good. 

One element that was of mixed value were the jihadists. These men joined Saracen armies engaged in warfare against the crusader states for religious purification. While often untrained and poorly armed, they were fanatical and often keen for a martyr's death in battle against the "polytheists."  In consequence, these troops could be used for particularly dangerous tasks such as storming a breech in a wall or scaling a siege ladder.

As in the West, most of Saracen troops (like the Mamlukes) owed service to a lord or emir, not to the Sultan directly. Thus, as in the West, a Saracen army was composed of small, close-knit clusters of troops bound to a land-owner, who himself owed service to a larger land-owner, who owed service to an even larger land-owner etc. until one came to the top, the Sultan himself. Yet while all theoretically served the Sultan directly or indirectly, the reality was that men served the men they personally knew. If their immediate lord changed sides or just decided to go home, then they did so too. As a result, the only troops the Sultan could rely on 100% were his Mamlukes (until they too revolted, cut the Sultan to pieces and took control for themselves, but that wasn't until the mid-13th Century.)

In short, the Sultan, like a medieval King, was dependent upon the loyalty and support of his most powerful emirs, and the emirs had power similar to barons in medieval Europe, with one important difference: the emirs did not hold territory on a hereditary basis. They served as administrators of territory or other sources of revenue (such as customs, or markets) for the Sultan. In theory at least, the Sultans could dismiss them and replace them at whim.

While one might expect this made them more loyal, the evidence suggests the opposite.  Lack of tenure created a sense of insecurity and tended to make emirs more mercenary. Without a vested interest in a specific territory, they were always open to alternative opportunities -- from a different Sultan, or a brother, cousin or son willing to challenge the reigning Sultan. With no long-term perspectives, there was also a strong bias toward plundering one's current position, whether it was territorial or purely administrative.

Furthermore, the fact that emirs came and went (squeezing as much revenue as possible from their subjects) undermined loyalty. Tenants farmers and peasants had little reason to identify with the ever changing cast of landlords sent to exploit them. This fact is reflected in the tendency of Saracen forces to dissolve comparatively rapidly. Saladin had consistent difficulty keeping his troops in the field for more than a  month or so. Even after his great victory at Hattin and the plundering of an entire kingdom, his troops faded away when the rains started. 

To compensate for the generally low levels of loyalty and morale among the conscripts, Saracen leaders depended increasingly upon mercenaries. These were predominantly drawn from the nomadic tribes of the Asian steppes, but included Armenians, further adding to the overall diversity of the Saracen force. 

Dr. Helena P. Schrader holds a PhD in History.
She is the Chief Editor of the Real Crusades History Blog.
She is an award-winning novelist and author of numerous books both fiction and non-fiction. Her three-part biography of Balian d'Ibelin won a total of 14 literary accolades. Her most recent release is a novel about the founding of the crusader Kingdom of Cyprus. You can find out more at: http://crusaderkingdoms.com

Warfare in the crusader states at the end of the 12th century is an integral part of Dr. Schrader's award-winning biographical novels about Balian d'Ibelin.

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Thursday, November 16, 2017

The Battle of Uclés, 1108

Ever since the loss of Toledo to the Christians in 1085, a major goal of the Moorish powers of al-Andalus in southern Spain had been to recapture that important Iberian city. In 1108, for the first time in six years, a major Almoravid army set out to attack the Christian territory of Toledo. This army was led by Tamin ibn-Yusuf, brother of the Almoravid Emir Ali ibn-Yusuf. Tamin’s army included forces from Granada, Córdoba, Murcia, and Valencia, making it a numerically enormous coalition.

For his first move, Tamin attacked Uclés, some one hundred kilometers east of Toledo. The town itself fell on May 27, but the castle resisted, obliging the Almoravids to dig in for a siege.

King Alfonso VI of León (1040, 1065-1109)

Meanwhile, King Alfonso VI of León was well aware of the Almoravid invasion, and had already dispatched a relief force. The Leonese were led by Count Álvar Fáñez, one of the King’s most trusted commanders. Also included in the army was King Alfonso’s son and heir, Sancho Alfónsez, for the first time taking a command role in a military expedition.

The Almoravid forces broke away from their siege of the citadel at Uclés to meet the approaching Christians. On May 29, just outside of Uclés, the two armies met. Álvar Fáñez may have engaged the Moorish forces too soon, which allowed the numerically superior Almoravid forces to flank the Christian troops. In the resulting battle, the Leonese army was destroyed. Many high-ranking knights were killed, including the King’s son, Sancho Alfónsez. Álvar Fáñez led the survivors out of the encirclement and managed to retreat to Madrid.

Battlefield of Uclés as it appears today

Having won the field, the Almoravids beheaded the Christian dead, which numbered in the thousands, heaping the heads in a ghastly pile. An Almoravid imam then climbed up on top of this mound of heads and preached the Koran to the victorious jihadi troops. The Almoravid triumph meant that Uclés at once passed into Mohammedan hands, as well as the entire south bank of the River Tajo from Aranjuez east to Zorita. Toledo itself was in grave danger, but the Leonese mobilized a defense that prevented the Almoravids from pushing their advance beyond the Tajo. Despite this fantastic victory, Toledo – the ultimate prize – remained out of Almoravid grasp.

The death of Prince Sancho Alfónsez was personally devastating to King Alfonso VI, but also meant that his Kingdom would have to confront the problem of succession. Ultimately the lack of a male heir meant that the King’s daughter, Urraca, would take the throne. 

Friday, November 10, 2017

Crusader Art

The scarcity of artwork dating from the crusader period found in the Holy Land today does not reflect — as some commentators suggest — a lack of artistic accomplishment or interest in the arts on the part of the elites in the crusader kingdoms. Rather is it the result of the the ravages of war and time, combined with systematic destruction and theft of crusader art by the Muslim conquerors of the Christian kingdoms. Today, Dr. Schrader provides a brief overview of some of the artistic achievements of the crusaders.

A medieval window seat with delicate tracery; crusader castle of St. Hilarion on Cyprus
We know from the written record and from the few fragments of art that survive that the Kings of Jerusalem and other Christian rulers invested huge sums in the construction/re-construction and decoration of churches first and foremost. We also know the luxury in which the elites in the crusader states lived attracted censure as well as awe from Western pilgrims, suggesting that secular buildings were likewise beautifully decorated.

Cloisters at the Church of the Nativity, Bethlehem

The best surviving evidence of crusader art is in the architecture and above all sculpture from the Church of the Holy Sepulcher and the Church of the Annunciation at Nazareth.  Fragments of crusader sculpture have also been found at Sebaste, Montfort and St. Mary Major in Jerusalem. However, except where Christian motifs or location make the dating of sculpture unassailable, many works of crusader sculpture is hard to identify because it was incorporated into buildings that were subsequently modified and overlaid with work of later centuries. The covered markets of Jerusalem are largely crusader in origin, but have been used continuously and added to and modified by successive generations. 

One of Jerusalem's covered markets, some of which date back to the reign of Queen Melusinde
From the few pieces of art that have been identified unequivocally as crusader sculpture, a clear mix of Byzantine and Romanesque influences has been identified, suggesting either Byzantine artists working for Latin patrons, or Frankish craftsmen under Byzantine masters or combinations of the above.

The Church of Nativity in Bethlehem houses magnificent mosaics from the crusader period. Very extensive wall mosaics depict the life of Christ, the Ecumenical Councils and the ancestors of Christ. These mosaics are carried out in the Byzantine style and were probably executed by Byzantine artists, but they were commissioned by the Kings of Jerusalem, probably Baldwin III or Amalric I, who were both married to Byzantine princesses and maintained close ties to the Byzantine Empire. The choice of Greek artists may also have been guided by the fact that the Church of the Nativity was one of the best preserved churches in the Holy Land, having survived destruction at the hands of the Persians and Muslims. The floor tiles date from the reign of Constantine and were allegedly commissioned by St. Helena. They are still in place today.

Mosaics in the Church of the Nativity, Bethlehem, dating from the Reign of Baldwin III or Amalric I (apologies for the poor quality; I took the photo myself in March 2014)

Wall painting was almost certainly popular in the crusader states as it was in the South of France, whence so many of the early crusaders came, but it is particularly vulnerable to obliteration as it is easily painted over — a method of eliminating unwanted decoration that also inadvertently preserves it for the archaeologist. At least four important frescos from the crusader period have been found in the last half century, including at Crac de Chevaliers.  The style of most wall-painting from the crusader period found to date suggests that Byzantine artists, or craftsmen trained in the Byzantine school, were used for such painting, although the choice of subject was dictated by Western traditions.
Two examples of Byzantine Art; St. George was a particularly popular subject in the Crusader Kingdoms

 In contrast, manuscript illustration appears to have been dominated by Western craftsmen. We know from written sources that a Scriptorium was established by the canons of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. This workshop is said to have produced a large number of works of very high quality, very little of which has survived. One exception is a psalter made for Queen Melisende of Jerusalem. 

The ivory cover of Queen Melisende's Psalter

After the fall of Jerusalem, there appears to have been an attempt to re-establish a Scriptorium in the Holy Land, this time in Acre, but the quality of the work is notably inferior to that from the Holy Sepulcher. Furthermore, whereas the illustrations of the Melisdende psalter and other works from the 12th century demonstrate strong Byzantine influence, the works from the Acre scriptorium are French and Italian in style.

The fragments of crusader art that survive are pitiably little, a mere whisper of what must have been a rich and distinct artistic heritage formed by the cross-fertilization of various cultures and artistic traditions at the ancient cross-roads of civilization on the eastern edge of the Mediterranean.

Recommended further reading:

Boas, Adrian J., Crusader Archaeology: The Material Culture of the Latin East, Routledge, London & New York, 1999.

Dr. Helena P. Schrader holds a PhD in History.
She is the Chief Editor of the Real Crusades History Blog.
She is an award-winning novelist and author of numerous books both fiction and non-fiction. Her three-part biography of Balian d'Ibelin won a total of 14 literary accolades. Her most recent release is a novel about the founding of the crusader Kingdom of Cyprus. You can find out more at: http://crusaderkingdoms.com

Queen Melisende is a major character in J. Stephen Robert's novel Why Does the Heathen Rage

Tuesday, November 7, 2017

Margaret of Provence: A Queen worth a Thousand Kingdoms

        Margaret of Provence was Queen of France by marriage to King Louis IX. She was born in 1221, the eldest daughter of Count Ramon Berenguer IV of Provence. By the 1230’s Margaret was already widely famed for her beauty and virtuous character. Blanche of Castile, Queen Mother of France, sent one of her knights to the court at Provence to meet young Margaret. Ultimately, Blanche would arrange a marriage between Margaret and her son, the young King Louis. Louis and Margaret were married on May 27, 1234 at the cathedral of Sens, where Margaret was crowned queen the following day.

The Queen Mother Blanche was nevertheless jealous of Louis’s affection for his wife, and frequently strove to keep the young couple apart. Jean of Joinville, one of Louis’s knights, provides an example of this in his famed chronicle The Life of Saint Louis:

            “The King was once by his wife’s side, at a time when she was in great danger of dying on account of the injuries she had suffered in giving birth to a child. Queen Blanche came to her room, and taking the King by the hand, said to him: ‘Come away, you’re doing no good here.’ Queen Margaret, seeing that the Queen Mother was taking the King away, cried out: ‘Alas! Whether I live or die, you will not let me see my husband!’ Then she fainted, and they all thought she was dead. The King, convinced that she was dying, turned back, and with great difficulty they brought her round.” –Joinville, 316.

Unfortunately for Margaret, Blanche maintained a strong influence over her son, and would remain a powerful force at court for many years yet. However, the early period of Louis and Margaret’s marriage was happy, and they spent much time together praying, reading, listening to music or riding the countryside on horseback.

            In 1248, Margaret accompanied her husband on his crusade to conquer Ayyubid Egypt, known to history as the Seventh Crusade. In 1249 the French army captured the Egyptian port city of Damietta, and Margaret took up residence in the city’s citadel while her husband carried on campaigning.

In 1250, Louis’s army was badly defeated at the Battle of Fariskur, and Louis himself was captured by the Ayyubids. Jean of Joinville recalls how the Queen received this news:

“Now you have already heard of the great suffering the King and all the rest of us endured. The Queen (who was then in Damietta) did not, as I am about to tell you, escape from tribulations herself. Three days before she gave birth to a child news came to her that the King was taken prisoner. This frightened her so much that every time she slept in her bed it seemed to her that the room was full of Saracens, and she would cry out. So that the child she was bearing should not die, she made an old knight lie down beside her bed and hold her by the hand. Every time she cried out, he would say to her: ‘Don’t be afraid, my lady, I am here.’

“Just before the child was born she ordered everyone except the knight to leave her room. Then she knelt down before the old man and begged him to do her a service; he consented and swore to do as she asked. So she said to him: ‘I ask you, on the oath you have sworn to me, that if the Saracens take this city, you will cut off my head before they can also take me.’ The knight replied: ‘Rest assured that I will do so without hesitation, for I already had it in mind to kill you before they took us all.’” –Joinville, 262-63.

The responsibility of negotiating with the Ayyubids and raising the King’s ransom fell to Margaret. Meanwhile, Margaret gave birth. Jean of Joinville recounts how Margaret acted courageously despite these trying circumstances:

“The Queen gave birth to a son who was named Jean. Her people called him Tristam, because of the great sorrow that had attended his birth. On the very day on which she was confined she was told that the men of Pisa, Genoa, and the other free cities were intending to flee Damietta. The next day she had them all summoned to her bedside, so that the room was quite full, and said to them: ‘Gentlemen, for God’s sake, do not leave this city, for it must be plain to you that if we lose it the King and all those who have been taken captive with him would be lost as well. If this plea does not move you, at least take pity on the poor weak creature lying here, and wait until I am recovered.’

“They answered: ‘My lady, what can we do? We’re dying of hunger in this city.’ The Queen told them that they need not leave for fear of starvation. ‘For,’ said she, ‘I will order all the food in this city to be bought in my name, and from now on will keep you all at the King’s expense.’ After talking the matter over among themselves, they came back to the queen and told her they would willingly remain. Then the Queen – may God grant her grace! – had all the food in the city bought at a cost of more than three hundred and sixty thousand livres.” –Joinville, 263.

Once Louis and his men were ransomed and released, the French forces departed Egypt and traveled to the Crusader Kingdom of Outremer. Here, while the King was refortifying the coastal city of Sidon, an incident occurred that highlights another aspect of Queen Margaret’s personality: her sense of humor. Jean of Joinville recounts:

“The Count of Tripoli – may God grant him grace! – entertained us nobly and paid us all the honor he could. He would have given me and my knights most valuable presents, if we had been willing to accept them. But we refused to take anything except a few relics, some of which I took to the King, together with the camlet I had bought for him.

“I also sent four pieces of camlet to Her Majesty the Queen. The knight who came to present them carried them wrapped up in a piece of white linen. When the Queen saw him enter her room she knelt before him, while he in his turn knelt before her. The Queen said to him: ‘Rise up, my good knight, it is not fitting for you to kneel when you are the bearer of relics.’ ‘My lady,’ replied the knight, ‘these are not relics, but pieces of camlet sent to you by my lord.’ On hearing this, the Queen and her ladies began to laugh. ‘Tell your lord I wish him the worst of luck,’ said the Queen to my knight, ‘since he has made me kneel before his camlet!’” –Joinville 314-15.

While the French army was still in Outremer, King Louis received news from his Kingdom that his mother, Blanche, had died. When Jean of Joinville discovered Queen Margaret’s reaction to this news, he was surprised:

“Madam Marie de Vertus, a very good and pious lady, came to tell me that the Queen was plunged in grief, and asked me to go to her and comfort her. When I arrived there, I found Queen Margaret in tears. So I said to her that the man who said one can never tell what a woman will do spoke truly. ‘For,’ said I, ‘the woman who hated you most is dead, and yet you are showing such sorrow.’ She told me it was not for Queen Blanche that she was weeping, but because of the grief the King was showing in his mourning over the dead, and also because of her own daughter – later Queen of Navarre – who was now left in the sole guardianship of men.’” –Joinville, 315-16.

            This was typical behavior on the part of Queen Margaret, who tended to put her husband and her children before herself.

            Margaret of Provence stands out as a truly heroic woman. The Seventh Crusade was one of the most devastating defeats in the history of the Crusades, which put those involved to the ultimate test. Through this difficulty, Margaret acted decisively in the interests of her people, helping to carry the Crusade through one of its darkest periods. After her husband’s death in 1270, Margaret returned to Provence, where she spent much of her time in charitable and pious works. She was a woman devoted to God, devoted to her husband and children, and devoted to her subjects.

            To learn more about Queen Margaret, pick up a translation of Jean of Joinville’s Life of Saint Louis, available from Penguin Classics.