John d'Ibelin: Part II

John d'Ibelin, Lord of Beirut, "successfully defied the might of the western empire and emerged from the struggle strengthened," according to leading modern scholar Peter Edbury* Yet he did so in the name of good governance not self-interest, and rather than placing himself in power he consistently defended the rights of the boy-king Henry I of Lusignan.

So just who was John of Beirut and what made him the man he was? Dr. Schrader continues his story.

Having served as regent of the Kingdom ofJerusalem to the satisfaction of his queen and her subjects from April 1205 until October 1210, John d'Ibelin stepped down in Oct. 1210.  The business of government was turned over to Marie de Montferrat, now 18, and her consort, King John de Brienne. (For details see: The Remarkable Career of John de Brienne, Part II.) 

John then all but disappears from the witness lists of the kingdom. The assumption of historians is that there was some kind of a breach between the former regent and the new king consort, but this is by no means certain.  John had been married early to a certain  Helvis of Nephin. We know nothing about the lady -- except that she bore John five sons, who all died in infancy.  We also know that John remarried the widow, Melisende of Arsur, sometime during his regency, because his eldest sons were old enough to be knighted in 1224.  In addition, John's mother died in 1217. In short, it is possible that John chose to retire from court for personal reasons.

Nevertheless, both John and his younger brother Philip took part in the Fifth Crusade, notably under the banner of the King of Cyprus rather than the King of Jerusalem. Again, this may be indicative of strained relations between the Ibelins and Brienne -- or simply a reflection of more cordial relations between them and the young Lusignan King Hugh, now married to another of the Ibelin's nieces, Alice of Champagne. Certainly, King Hugh commended his kingdom to the keeping of Philip d'Ibelin on his deathbed in 1218. His unexpected death while still a vigorous man in his early twenties took everyone by surprise and left an 18-month-old infant, Henry, as his heir. Philip was duly elected by the High Court to rule until Henry came of age (May 1232), but himself died in 1227.  At his death, the High Court of Cyprus chose his brother, John, the Lord of Beirut, to step into his shoes. It was this election that put John on a collision course with the Holy Roman Emperor.

Two years earlier, in 1225 the Holy Roman Emperor had married Yolanda of Jerusalem, the daughter of John de Brienne and Marie of Jerusalem. She was just 13 years old, and no sooner had she landed in Brindisi that her new bridegroom dismissed her father like a superfluous servant and announced the he (the Emperor) was henceforth "King of Jerusalem." All the barons of Outremer who had escorted her to her marriage duly took the oath of fealty to Frederick Hohenstaufen. 

John of Beirut was conspicuously absent from Queen Yolanda's escort. Presumably, he was still out of favor with Brienne, or simply too busy on Cyprus or in Beirut. There is no reason to presume he would have refused to take the oath, however, since there was a clear precedent for the consort of a ruling queen to take precedence over the widower (even if crowned and anointed) of a deceased queen: this was precisely the precedent set -- with the full and hearty support of John's parents -- when Queen Isabella and Conrad de Montferrat had been preferred over Guy de Lusignan in 1190.

Unfortunately for all, however, by the time Emperor Frederick finally landed on Cyprus on his way to the Holy Land, his fifteen-year-old empress was dead, leaving behind an infant son, Conrad. This boy was now legally the King of Jerusalem in his own right, and while Frederick was within his rights to claim the regency, he had lost the right to call himself King -- something Frederick either never understood or never admitted. Curiously, he also arrived -- for reasons that remain completely obscure -- determined to "break" the Lord of Beirut.

The basis for the Emperor's hostility to the Lord of Beirut can only be conjectured. Since the Emperor dismissed Brienne discourteously, making him a permanent enemy, it can hardly have been Beirut's less than ardent support for Brienne. However, Beirut's brother had crowned Henry de Lusignan King of Cyprus without awaiting imperial permission. Furthermore, in light of his personal experience with regents plundering his treasury, perhaps it was natural for the Hohenstaufen to assume the Ibelins had enriched themselves illegally at the expense of young King Henry. Edbury suggests it was primarily greed for revenue on the eve of an expensive undertaking that motivated the Emperor. Yet it remains a mystery why the Emperor believed the Lordship of Beirut, which had been given to John d'Ibelin with the appropriate royal charters by his own sister, did not legally belong to him.

As we have seen, after fair words to lure Beirut, his sons, friends and vassals to a banquet, the Emperor sprang a trap and attempted to bully Beirut into surrendering both revenues and his lordship of Beirut. (See: The Emperor's Banquet.) Beirut must have had some indication that the Emperor was hostile, or his council would not have advised against him attending the banquet, yet it is hard to believe the Beirut truly expected what happened -- and still walked into the trap.

Tellingly, although Beirut angrily rejected an offer to murder the Emperor by over-zealous supporters, he withdrew to the mountain fortresses of Cyprus and readied them to withstand a siege. While this was clearly an act of defiance, it was not an act of treason. Beirut explicitly held the castles for young King Henry of Lusignan, a promise that may sound disingenuous but which later actions proved honest.  His response was rather a proportionate response to the treachery of the Emperor, who had promised honors yet demanded bribes instead. Furthermore, his action which involved no violence, nevertheless check-mated the Emperor, who did not have the time (Sicily was under attack from his father-in-law and the pope) or resources for an all-out war. 

The Emperor was forced to seek terms. In exchange for the return of the castles to royal officers, the Emperor promised to release the hostages.  In addition, Beirut promised to take part in the Emperor's crusade, along with all his vassals, while the Emperor agreed, in writing 1) to take no action against Beirut or his supporters without the judgment of the appropriate court (i.e. the High Courts of Cyprus and Jerusalem respectively), and 2) to bear no malice for all that had passed between them in the preceding months.

The value of the Emperor's sworn and signed word was soon demonstrated when, as soon as he had Beirut and all his men on the mainland, he sent imperial mercenaries to Cyprus to attack, harass and intimidate the wives and children of these very men now serving in his army. He entrusted one of his Sicilian noblemen, the Count of Cotron, with this task. The degree of their success can be measured by the fact that Beirut's his sister-in-law, the widow of his brother Philip, was in sufficient fear for her life to risk a winter crossing to Syria in a small craft with her young children; all nearly drowned. 

After concluding his secret peace with al-Kamil and parading around in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in his Imperial crown, Frederick II had had enough of his Kingdom of Jerusalem. After briefly laying siege to Templar headquarters in Acre, threatening the Patriarch, ordering the harassment of the mendicant orders, and being pelted by offal by the common people, Frederick sailed away from Acre never to return -- although he continued to call himself "King of Jerusalem" for the next 25 years. 

* Edbury, Peter. John of Ibelin and the Kingdom of Jerusalem. The Boydell Press, 1997, p. 56 

** William of Oldenberg, cited in Edbury, p. 57.

*** "...there is a marked resemblance between Ibelin and St. Louis of France, for while both were personally deeply religious neither permitted the Church to dictate to him against the mandates of his own conscience and better judgement." La Monte, John. The Wars of Frederick II against the Ibelins in Syria and Cyprus by Philip de Novare. Columbia University Press, 1936, p. 49.

The story of John d'Ibelin continues next week. Meanwhile, John d'Ibelin is a leading character in Dr. Schrader's series on the civil war in Outremer starting with:

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The Remarkable Career of John de Brienne, Part III

As the 13th-century historian, philosopher and jurist Philip of Novare worded it, “A good knight, by the fame of his valour and by his effort, has frequently come to great riches and acquisitions. And many of them have been crowned kings, and others have had great riches and lordships.”[1] No career was more spectacular than that of John de Brienne, the younger son of a minor French count, who rose to be not only King of Jerusalem but Emperor of Constantinople as well. Today Dr. Schrader concludes her three-part series on his life.

With the collapse of the Fifth Crusade in humiliating defeat, most of the survivors could return home and forswear crusading altogether, if they wished. John de Brienne, however, King of Jerusalem, did not have that option. His kingdom was more vulnerable than ever before, now that the Ayyubids had every reason to question the efficacy of Christian arms. John was in his late forties, a widower for the second time, and his only surviving child was his little girl by Marie de Montferrat, Yolanda/Isabella, who was now ten years old.

Rather than returning to his kingdom and daughter, however, John de Brienne embarked on an expansive “tour” of Western Europe intended to raise funds, troops, and support for a new crusade to rescue his beleaguered kingdom. Between 1223 and 1225, Brienne traveled to Flanders and England, to Metz and Cologne, across northern Italy and down into what is now Spain.  

In the latter, he visited the pilgrimage site of Santiago de Compostella, but more important contracted a third marriage, this time to Berengaria of Castile, the daughter of Alfonso IX. The couple was married in Toledo in May 1224. Berengaria had the advantage of being a niece of the Queen Blanch of France, thereby strengthening Brienne’s ties with the French monarchy.

Yet the more important marriage that Brienne arranged during the first three years following the end of the Fifth Crusade was that between his daughter Yolanda, the heiress of Jerusalem, and the Holy Roman Emperor, Frederick II Hohenstaufen. It is unclear where the idea of Frederick II marrying the future queen of Jerusalem originated. Pierre Boulle, one of Frederick II’s biographers, suggests it was the Pope’s idea. Another father for the idea is Herman von Salza, the tireless and diplomatically gifted, Master of the Teutonic Knights. Or, the idea might have originated with Brienne himself. In any case, the idea had the obvious advantage of giving Frederick II a material interest in finally fulfilling his multiple crusade vows. Brienne, the Pope, and the Masters of the military orders all hoped that if Frederick were to marry the heiress of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, he would finally do something to shore it up.

Although historians presume there was a marriage contract negotiated by Herman von Salza, no copy has survived into our own time. Nevertheless, there is a general consensus that Frederick II agreed to allow John de Brienne to retain the title, dignity, revenues, and functions of King of Jerusalem for his lifetime. The marriage was celebrated in Acre by proxy (the Archbishop of Capua standing in for the absent Emperor) in the summer of 1225. At the time Yolanda was only twelve-years-old, this being the legal age of consent for girls.  The proxy wedding was followed by Yolanda’s coronation at Tyre, before she boarded a ship, accompanied by leading barons of her kingdom, and sailed for Brindisi.  On November 9, 1225 (still possibly short of her thirteenth birthday), Yolanda married Frederick II in person ― and the very next day Frederick demanded homage from the knights and barons of Jerusalem that had accompanied his wife to Brindisi. There can be no question that Brienne himself ― but also the Pope and Salza ― all believed that Frederick’s actions were in violation of the terms they had negotiated.

What he had promised during the negotiations interested Frederick II (who liked to call himself the “Wonder of the World”) not one iota. The knights and barons of Jerusalem, moreover, were all too ready to swap the ineffective and impoverished Brienne for the powerful and wealthy Holy Roman Emperor. All those present did homage as demanded. They lived to regret it.

Despite the marriage, Frederick still failed to fulfill his crusading vow by the agreed date of Sept. 1227.  To be sure, he made the attempt, but much of his army and leading commanders were struck down by illness. The Emperor himself became so sick after setting sail that he returned to Apulia.  The Pope, now Gregory IX, promptly excommunicated him for failing (yet again) to fulfill his vows. 

Frederick was unimpressed and set about raising a new army. Meanwhile, according to various chronicles (admittedly hostile to Frederick), the Emperor abused his bride. On the one hand, he was said to neglect her for his harem slaves or other women, and on the other is said to have beaten her so severely that she lost, or nearly lost, a child.  She certainly did lose her first child, but since she was at most 14 at the time, abuse may have had nothing to do with it. Equally certain, she died in May 1228 just ten days later after giving birth to a son when she was still only 15 years of age. 

Frederick was now in exactly the same situation that Brienne had been at the death of his wife Queen Marie. Like Brienne, he blithely insisted that he remained King of Jerusalem, although the tie that bound him to Jerusalem was dead. Naturally, he could ― like Brienne ― claim to rule for his infant son, the heir to the crown, but ― again like Brienne ― he claimed more, until the day he died he insisted on the title and dignity of King of Jerusalem. He did not do so without opposition. John d’Ibelin would oppose him in this, just as he had opposed Brienne, and far more successfully, but that will have to be the subject of a separate entry.

For Brienne, of course, the loss of his daughter was not material; he claimed the crown because he had been crowned and anointed, just as Guy de Lusignan had done before him and Emperor Frederick was doing too.  Brienne was fortunate to have a powerful patron in the pope.

Pope Honorius was at loggerheads with the Holy Roman Emperor over a variety of issues that far exceed the parameters of this essay. It is enough to say that in his struggle with Frederick II, Brienne was a useful tool. Brienne had already allied himself with the Lombard League, the northern Italian cities then in revolt against Frederick’s rule. Brienne evidently enjoyed much respect and sympathy among the Lombards.  Honorius clearly wanted to keep Brienne on hand and on his side, so he furnished Brienne with substantial income by appointing him “rector” in the papal state of Tuscany. Honorius was succeeded as pope by Gregory IX, an even more inveterate opponent of the Hohenstaufen.  He immediately confirmed Brienne in this position as rector and then turned to him as an experienced military commander to lead (among others) papal forces directed at the Frederick II’s Kingdom of Sicily.

Frederick himself had set off on his much-postponed crusade despite being excommunicate and despite the fact that Pope Gregory expressly forbade him from setting out. (The Pope called Frederick’s expedition to the Holy Land an “anti-crusade.”) Frederick took only a few troops with him, but many scholars, archbishops, and harem slaves. He conducted no military operations against the Saracen, preferring to attack his barons on Cyprus and the Knights Templar in the heart of Acre. Secretly he begged the Sultan al-Kamil for terms that would restore Jerusalem to Christian hands, without consulting any of his allies.  Although he ultimately succeeded in obtaining a ten-year truce that included restoration of Jerusalem and some other territory, his treaty with al-Kamil had many flaws (as will be shown in a future entry). All this took time, however, and while he was away, Pope Gregory’s army assaulted his holdings in southern Italy.

The papal war against the Frederick has gone down in history as the “War of the Keys” because papal forces used the papal keys as their insignia. The forces fighting for the pope were commanded by not only John de Brienne but also Cardinal Pelagius (of Fifth Crusade ill-repute) and Cardinal Colonna. Together, they initially enjoyed significant successes, but these were built on sand: Frederick’s absence.  As soon as the Emperor returned from the Holy Land, landing at Brindisi on June 10, 1229, rebellious cities and lords got cold feet. They soon abandoned their rebellion or the papal cause, depending on how you look at it. 

This defeat was not nearly as devastating for Brienne as it may seem on the surface. This is because roughly six months before Frederick’s return from the Holy Land and the collapse of the “War of the Keys,” Brienne had been offered the Imperial crown of Constantinople, the Latin empire built (precariously) upon the foundations of the Eastern Roman Empire (Byzantine Empire) that had fallen to Latin mercenaries after the capture of Constantinople in 1204.

Without getting into too much detail, the throne in Constantinople had fallen vacant following the death of Emperor Robert of Courtenay in 1228. His heir was his younger brother Baldwin, who was only 11 years old at the time. With the Latin empire under threat from resurgent Greeks under both John III Doukas Vatazes and Theodore of Epiros, the barons did not want to wait for Baldwin to grow up. They wanted a tried military leader now. 

Unfortunately for them, Constantinople did not have the emotional appeal of Jerusalem. Many knights and barons continued to view the conquest of Constantinople as scandalous or even sinful. Many men who were prepared to risk life, limb, and fortune to secure the Holy Land, were completely disinterested in Constantinople. In short, there were no great kings or barons willing to give up their secure hereditary lands in the West for a throne that was already tottering on the brink of collapse.  Brienne, on the other hand, had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

Before setting out for Constantinople, however, Brienne negotiated terms that, “reflect the fact that he was now in a much stronger position, vis-à-vis desperate Latin Constantinople, than he had been two decades earlier when negotiating for the throne of Jerusalem. He seems to have refused to accept a mere regency for young Baldwin de Courtenay. Instead, it was agreed that John would become sole emperor (not co-emperor, as is still sometimes said).”[1] Brienne was to be Baldwin’s guardian until the latter came of age, after which Baldwin was to swear fealty to Brienne until Brienne’s death. He would then succeed Brienne. Meanwhile, Baldwin was to marry Brienne’s daughter Mary and be invested with all territory of the empire in Asia Minor ― just as soon as somebody had conquered it again. Brienne’s sons were also to be provided for from territories of his new empire, which for all its weakness still theoretically stretched from the Balkans deep into what is now Turkey.

So Brienne once again went recruiting for the men and money to defend the throne to which he had been elected. He received strong support from the Venetians, who were largely responsible for the creation of Latin empire in Greece and offered very generous terms for the transport of Brienne’s army (in contrast to the debacle of 1204). It is an indication of Brienne’s greater prestige after two decades in the international arena that he was able to muster a significantly larger force for his move to Constantinople than he had been able to pull together for his arrival in Jerusalem. The transport treaty with Venice suggests he brought 500 knights, 1,200 horses, and 5,000 infantry. Yet, in the end, it was not nearly enough.

The challenge Brienne faced in Constantinople was considerably greater than what he had confronted in Jerusalem. The Latin empire was flanked by hostile, Christian powers, and ruled over a population that was at best indifferent to the Frankish elite. Unlike in Jerusalem, the native Orthodox population had not invited the Franks in and did not see them as an improvement over what had been before. The “enemy,” particularly the Greeks rallying around John III Doukas Vatatzes, was widely perceived as more legitimate than the Frankish rulers. Furthermore, while the Ayyubids had been divided among themselves and fighting each other as often as they fought the Franks, shortly after Brienne arrived in Constantinople, the Vlach-Bulgar kingdom switched alliances and started supporting the Orthodox Byzantines rather than the Latin Franks.

In 1235, four years into Brienne’s reign, the Byzantines and Bulgars jointly attacked the Latin Empire. They rapidly eliminated the Latin outposts in Asia Minor and in Thrace and the combined forces appeared before Constantinople. They had sufficient force to attack in two places at once, and the strategy appeared to be to attack in one place, draw the defenders to that part of the wall, and then launch a second attack somewhere else. Brienne responded with cavalry sallies that evidently astonished and disrupted the besiegers, but meanwhile, the native population within the city was far from trustworthy, adding another dimension of danger.  Fortunately, the timely arrival of a fleet of ships from Venice broke the coordinated attacks of the enemy by destroying 24 Greek ships and putting the rest to flight.

The Venetians docked in triumph, celebrated their victory, and sailed for home. The enemy returned, renewing the siege of Constantinople through the winter of 1235-1236. Having received a “bloody nose” in the earlier assaults, however, the combined Byzantine-Bulgar army now attempted to force surrender through siege alone. Brienne managed to get word to Rome of his dire situation ― and the West rallied.

In a rare instance of self-interest over-riding rivalries, the Venetians, Pisans, and Genoese jointly rallied to the defense of Constantinople.  Equally important, the  Frankish Prince of Achaea (essentially the Peloponnese) likewise brought up troops to relieve Constantinople. As the prospects of success dimmed, the Bulgars abandoned the Byzantines, seeking reconciliation with Rome via envoys.  The Byzantines, recognizing the impossibility of continuing the siege on their own, likewise withdrew.

Brienne had won a surprising victory against overwhelming forces, but his Empire was no stronger than it had been before. Indeed, it had been weakened by the year-long siege. It was clearly just a matter of time before the next assault would be made by the Byzantines that would never accept a Latin Constantinople.  But Brienne had run out of time. In mid-March (the exact date is unknown), John de Brienne, Emperor of Constantinople and former King of Jerusalem, died in Constantinople.  His young wife died within weeks of him, leading historians to speculate that he died of some siege-related illness, (siege conditions often lead to the spread of various communicable diseases). He was survived by three sons and a daughter, all the children of his third wife. 

---

[1] Perry, Guy. John of Brienne: King of Jerusalem, Emperor of Constantinople, c. 1175-1237. Cambridge University Press, 2013, p. 151.

Next week Dr. Schrader will take a closer look at the so-called Sixth Crusade. Meanwhile, enjoy Dr. Schrader's award-winning books set in the crusader kingdoms in the late 12^th century.

Next week I'll look more closely at the so-called Sixth Crusade.  Meanwhile, enjoy my award-winning novels set in the Holy Land in the late 12th century.

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The Remarkable Career of John de Brienne, Part II: A Disappointing King

Today Dr. Schrader continues her three-part biography of the remarkable career of John de Brienne. Born the younger son of a minor French count, he rose to be not only King of Jerusalem but Emperor of Constantinople as well. Today’s entry focuses on his years as King of Jerusalem, 1209 – 1225, including his role in the Fifth Crusade based primarily upon Guy Perry’s biography published in 2013.[1]

In 1210, after more than a year of recruiting, John de Brienne arrived in the Kingdom of Jerusalem with an entourage estimated at 300 knights and an unknown number of squires, sergeants, and archers. Although not insignificant, this was not a vast crusading army likely to tip the balance of power in favor of the Christians even for a temporary time.  From the start, therefore, John was something of a disappointment to his subjects in Outremer

Whether he was also a disappointment to his bride, the 18-year-old Marie de Montferrat, daughter of Queen Isabella and her second husband Conrad de Montferrat, is unknown.  There is no reason to assume, however, that the successful tournament champion now in his early 30s should have been displeasing to her.  He came from the heartland of chivalry, Champagne, and was himself a writer of poetry and song. The couple was crowned jointly in Tyre ― and the Saracens immediately took advantage of most of the barons being assembled there to attempt an attack on Acre.

Although the (unnamed) barons remaining in Acre effectively repelled the attack and sent the Saracens back where they came from, the raid nevertheless did much damage and it was an inauspicious start to John’s reign.  He retaliated with a chevauchée (cavalry raid) of his own. Yet while this did some damage and the participants returned loaded with loot, they achieved no lasting benefit for the kingdom. John next attempted to strike at Egypt with a sea-borne expedition into the Nile delta but did not have sufficient force to do more than moderate damage to secondary targets. The Ayybids rapidly concluded that John de Brienne was no Richard the Lionheart and was unlikely to do them serious harm. Instead of seeking terms, they brazenly began construction of fortifications on Mount Tabor.  These commanding the heights threatened Nazareth, which the Christians had recovered only in 1204.  

Meanwhile, John’s small host of crusaders had fulfilled their vows and returned home to France. John had little choice but to conclude a new six-year truce with the Saracens with no gains whatsoever in territory ― the first time a treaty without gain had been concluded since the Third Crusade. There can be little doubt that many in John’s new kingdom were less than impressed by this performance.

All might have been forgiven, however, had he at least done his dynastic duty and produced a male heir. Instead, in November 1212 Queen Marie gave birth to a daughter and died shortly afterward. This left the kingdom with an infant, female heir ― the worst possible scenario. It also produced a constitutional crisis.

As king-consort, John’s right to the throne of Jerusalem was derived through his wife. Already in 1190-1192, the precedent had been set that the consort of a ruling queen did not retain his position after her death. Thus, Guy de Lusignan, the widower of Queen Sibylla, had been supplanted by Sibylla’s younger sister Isabella. Although Guy was deposed in 1192 by the High Court of Jerusalem, he personally refused to accept the decision and died still calling himself King of Jerusalem. John, unsurprisingly, took Guy’s stance of insisting that he had been crowned and anointed for life ― or at least until his infant daughter came of age and married.  

His daughter was his trump, making the situation similar yet different from Lusignan's. Guy’s daughters had died at the same time his wife Queen Sibylla, leaving him no claim to even a regency. John, who called himself “Count” of Brienne as long as the rightful heir remained a minor, argued that he was still “King” of Jerusalem as long as his daughter was a minor.  The argument won over the majority of the barons of his kingdom, with the notable exception of the former regent of the kingdom, John d’Ibelin, and some of his family and followers.

Ibelin opposition to John de Brienne remaining king may have been based on principle. John de Ibelin was famous for his understanding of the law. His legal opinion was highly respected and sought after in court cases. In fact, according to the famous legal scholar of the 13^th century, Philip de Novare, Ibelin’s legal views were widely considered definitive.  Furthermore, his parents had been the chief opponents of Guy de Lusignan, when he had claimed the crown after the death of Queen Sibylla.  However, the elder Ibelin’s opposition to Lusignan had as much to do with Lusignan’s demonstrated military incompetence (he had been the engineer of the devastating and unnecessary catastrophe at Hattin) as any legal considerations.  Furthermore, Ibelin opposition to Guy de Lusignan in 1190 was also a function of the fact that Balian d’Ibelin was step-father to the rightful heir to the throne, Sibylla’s younger sister Isabella. In short, Ibelin stood to gain significantly by Isabella’s coronation at Guy’s expense.

John d’Ibelin’s opposition to John de Brienne’s claim to remain king may have paralleled his father’s opposition to Guy de Lusignan. On the one hand, there was the legal precedent of Guy’s deposition, but more important was Brienne’s disappointing (albeit hardly disastrous) military record and ― most significantly ― Ibelin’s displacement in the ruling councils of the kingdom by Brienne’s own family, friends, and clients. After all, there was no doubt that Brienne’s daughter, the infant Isabella (or Yolanda), was the rightful heir to the kingdom. It was, furthermore, common (although not inevitable) for a minor’s closest relative, male or female, to serve as regent. In this case, that closest relative was John de Brienne. In short, Ibelin opposition was almost certainly more about self-interest than legal technicalities.

Yet while Brienne won the first round and remained King of Jerusalem, he was conscious of his vulnerability and moved rapidly to secure an alternative to Jerusalem through marriage to Stephanie of Armenia, the eldest daughter of the ruling King Leo.  This gave John a plausible claim to the crown of Armenia since Leo had no sons. At the same time, he appears to have supported, possibly even encouraged, attempts by his nephew Erard de Brienne to lay claim to the County of Champagne by right of his wife, Philippa of Champagne.  The story is too complex for this short essay, but it appears indicative of John’s ambition and efforts to ensure he had family in high places.

Meanwhile, Pope Innocent III was actively advocating for a new crusade which was to regain Jerusalem by putting pressure on the Sultan of Egypt. By now Frederick II Hohenstaufen had come of age and dramatically taken the cross, so there was a general expectation that he would lead this crusade and put the full financial and military power of the Holy Roman Empire behind it.  As it turned out, however, Frederick was a rather reluctant crusader, easily distracted by other matters. He repeatedly postponed crusading for what would turn out to be fifteen years.  Instead, he sent others to do his fighting for him, and so the crusade, numbered by historians centuries later as the “Fifth,” was launched without him in 1217.

The first phase of this crusade took place in Syria, not Egypt, with a raid largely intended not to regain lost territory but rather to capture much-needed supplies and foodstuffs to support the influx of crusaders that the Kingdom itself could not sustain.  The exception was an attack on the Saracen fortifications on Mount Tabor.  John de Brienne led this successful attack with great élan, something that added greatly to his prestige.  Yet, he abandoned the position almost at once, apparently convinced it was too vulnerable to hold. This, in turn, tarnished a reputation that had only just begun to gleam.

Back in Acre, several leading crusaders, notably King Andrew of Hungary, King Hugh of Cyprus and the Prince of Antioch, abandoned the crusade altogether. It was thus not until mid-2018 that enough men and troops had arrived from the West for the crusade to begin in earnest. The crusaders embarked on a siege of the Egyptian city of Damietta. After a year and a half, in late 2019, the crusaders finally captured the city, and John de Brienne succeeded in being recognized as “King” in Damietta, i.e. it was recognized that any territorial gains in Egypt would be accorded to the Kingdom of Jerusalem rather than the individual leaders fighting in the crusade. 

More important, the crusader capture of Damietta induced the Sultan of Egypt al-Kamil to offer the restoration of all territory that had once been part of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, including Jerusalem and Bethlehem, in exchange for the crusader evacuation of Damietta. To Brienne’s credit, he favored acceptance of this offer. He was supported by the Templars, Hospitallers, and Teutonic Knights, but over-ruled by the other crusade leaders, most notably the papal legate Pelagius and Frederick II’s deputy/representative the Duke of Bavaria. The decision revealed all too clearly that the “King” of Jerusalem was not taken all too seriously by either the pope or the Holy Roman Emperor. On the contrary, they (or their representatives) were “calling the shots” and Brienne’s place was to take orders -- and risk life and limb while watching not only the crusade fail but also all hopes for a viable Kingdom of Jerusalem sink in the mud of the Nile with it.

To be sure, Brienne’s reputation as a valorous knight and brave tactical commander was bolstered by his military leadership during the crusade. It did not hurt that, in retrospect, people recognized his wisdom in advising against the disastrous march on Cairo. Yet the fact remained that his name was associated with yet another failed military campaign.

Nor did it help that in 1220, in the midst of the Fifth Crusade, his Armenian wife and his son by her died.  His hopes for a crown in Armenia died with them just at a time when the Ayyubids, to try to ease the pressure of the crusade on the Nile, struck at the Kingdom of Jerusalem.  In a devastating raid, Saracen forces destroyed the coastal city of Caesarea and were soon threatening the Templar’s new stronghold at Athlit. The Templars and many barons and knights had abandoned the crusade in Egypt to hasten back to the Kingdom of Jerusalem and repulse the threat. To top it all off, it was at exactly this time that Brienne’s nephew Walter IV came of age, and John lost his title of Count of Brienne as well. 

To Brienne’s credit, he did not despair.  Instead, he undertook renewed efforts to bring to his beleaguered kingdom the necessary financial and military resources that would enable it to beat back its enemies and re-establish a viable kingdom.  He was to successfully enlist the support of the most powerful Christian monarch of his age ― with disastrous consequences for his own position ― but that is the story for next week’s entry.

Meanwhile, enjoy Schrader's award-winning books set in the crusader kingdoms in the late 12^th century.

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Teutonic Knights Part II: Servant of Two Masters

As long as the papacy and the Holy Roman Emperors were in accord with one another, the Teutonic Knights were well positioned to receive patronage from both. The situation changed dramatically, however, when Frederick II fell afoul of Pope Gregory IX. In today's entry Dr. Schrader looks at the fate of the Teutonic Order during the years of power struggle between the Holy Roman Emperor and the Pope.

Just when ten years of Salza’s tireless efforts to raise support for a new crusade were finally bearing fruit in the form of what was to become known as the Sixth Crusade, Frederick II and Pope Gregory IX clashed.  Angered by the Hohenstaufen’s failure to depart on time for the crusade, the pope excommunicated the emperor. Frederick II showed his contempt for the pope, by proceeding with the crusade (albeit a year later than promised) anyway.

Fredrick II’s crusade put not only the Teutonic Knights but the other military orders and the knights and barons of Outremer in an extremely awkward position. Everyone with a serious or vested interest in the recapture of Jerusalem and other parts of the Holy Land welcomed a crusade led by a powerful and wealthy monarch. They had placed huge hopes Frederick Hohenstaufen, who was now not only a crusading monarch but also the titular king (or at least regent) of Jerusalem by right of his wife.  (Although his wife had meanwhile died from the effects of childbirth at the age of 15, she had left behind a living son, Conrad; Frederick as his only surviving parent had a strong claim to act as regent for his infant son.)

Initially, no one wanted to let an excommunication get in the way of their shared interest in regaining the holy sites and strengthening the viability of the weakened kingdom. So the Holy Roman Emperor was welcomed.  Indeed, despite his absolutist attempts to illegally seize properties from both local barons and the Templars, the militant orders and the fighting men of Outremer supported Frederick’s crusade. The Teutonic Knights were no different from the others. 

Until, that is, the emperor went behind everyone’s backs to cut a deal with the Sultan al-Kamil.  While on the surface his treaty was successful, it also contained clauses that were utterly unacceptable to the inhabitants of Outremer, the Templars and Hospitallers. The most important drawback of the Emperor’s ‘treaty’ with al-Kamil was that, although the Sultan had physical control of Jerusalem at the time of the treaty, he did not have a legal right to dispose of it; it belonged to his nephew, who immediately denounced and declared his intention of re-taking Jerusalem for Islam. 

Equally damaging to the utility of the treaty, was the fact that it was in fact a truce not a peace treaty: it only lasted for ten years and the Christians were prohibited from refortifying the city or the environs in the meantime. In effect, Jerusalem was not restored to Christian control, but lent to the Christians (assuming they could fight off al-Kamil’s nephew without having any fortifications) for ten years. The fact that the Temple Mount, which had been the Templar’s HQ, remained in Muslim control just added insult to injury.

With this personal treaty between the Hohenstaufen and al-Kamil negotiated in secrecy without the advice ― much less the consent ― of the lords and bishops of Outremer or the Masters of the Militant Orders, Frederick II lost his credibility, popularity and support in Outremer. Relations between the Emperor and the Templars turned so sour, that the Emperor laid siege to the Templar citadel in Acre for five days.  Nor did the Hospitaller escape the Emperor’s wrath: on his return to Sicily, Fredrick promptly confiscated all the properties of both the Templars and the Hospitallers. Meanwhile, the ordinary people of Outremer sent Frederick II home by pelting him with offal on his way down to the port to embark on his return journey.

Only the Teutonic Knights remained loyal to Frederick Hohenstaufen. With good reason. They did not have vast networks of estates from Scotland to Outremer as did the older militant orders; their properties were concentrated in the Hohenstaufen’s territories. The confiscation of estates in Sicily and the Holy Roman Empire were unwelcome, but not crippling to the Templars and Hospitallers; for the Teutonic Knights a similar confiscation would have come close to destroying the Order.

In doing what they must to retain the Emperor’s good will, however, they incurred the wrath of the pope. On August 17, 1229, on learning from the Patriarch of Jerusalem that Herman von Salza had translated and delivered Frederick’s apologist speech on his relations with the papacy during a “crown-wearing ceremony” in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, Pope Gregory IX stripped the Teutonic Knights of their independence, subordinating them to the Knights Hospitaller. Furthermore, their support of the unpopular, autocratic Frederick II cost the Teutonic Knights popular support among ordinary people as well. By 1231, Pope Gregory felt compelled to issue a document condemning attacks on the Teutonic Knights by both laity and clergy.

Herman von Salza, however, was a consummate diplomat. He used his skills to regain papal favor by brokering a rapprochement between the papacy and the Holy Roman Empire. By 1230 already, the breach between the pope and the Holy Roman Emperor had been (temporarily) repaired, and the pope was again defending the Teutonic Knights against their enemies (see above). There is no further mention of Hospitaller control, and the independence of the Teutonic Knights was quietly restored.

When a new conflict broke out between the Emperor and the pope, Herman von Salza was the one man both antagonists trusted. He was entrusted with the task of trying to find means of reconciliation between them. Thus in the end Salza succeeded at the seemingly impossible task of serving two masters, the pope and the emperor, to the satisfaction of both.

His successor didn’t even try. Conrad of Thuringia was 100% the emperor’s man. He was also Frederick II’s cousin, so perhaps he didn’t have much choice. His devotion to the Hohenstaufen, however, again earned the Teutonic Knights the enmity of the pope. This in turn led to the order once more losing many of its privileges and again, by papal order, being subordinated to the Hospital.  The latter, however, appears to have lost interest in actually taking control. Instead, the Hospital allied itself with the Imperial forces in the Levant with the result that the Templars were soon attacking both the Hospitallers and the Teutonic Knights in Acre. The Templars were outraged because the Imperial authorities supported by the Hospitallers and Teutonic Knights favored a truce with the Sultan of Egypt while the Templars and the local barons preferred peace with the Sultan of Damascus. (The two Sultans being still at odds with one another.)

Conrad died within two years and was followed in short succession by men who alternately sought reconciliation with the pope or adhered again to the Imperial party. As a result by 1249 “[the Teutonic Knights] had alienated both the papacy and the empire and were divided amongst themselves.” (Morton, p. 105). In the eleven years since Salza’s death, the Order had also suffered a severe setbacks in Prussia and Livonia, as well as massive losses at the devastating Frankish defeat at La Forbie in 1244. In 1249 another major defeat awaited them: Mansourah. Again the Teutonic Knights, like the Templars and Hospitallers, suffered severe casualties.

Perhaps this was what shattered the internal cohesion of the Order. Between 1249 and 1253 as many as four different men appear to have called themselves “Master” of the Teutonic Knights, at least two simultaneously. Letters to Western rulers, furthermore, attested to the fact that the Teutonic Knights were not receiving aid from their properties in the West because the wars between the papacy and the empire had prevented supplies from reaching them, and what resources the Order could scrape together were being diverted to Prussia and Livonia because of an impending Mongol invasion.

The Teutonic Knights had reached a nadir point.  

Principle source: Morton, Nicholas. The Teutonic Knights in the Holy Land, 1190-1291. Boydell Press, 2009.

Join us next week for the third and final entry on the Teutonic Knights in the Holy Land. Meanwhile, discover the crusader states at the end of the 12th century in Dr. Schrader's award-winning novels set in Outremer:

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