Saladin and the Third Crusade

When the Third Crusade started, it became a problem for Saladin. This was not only because it meant more Western European Christians trying to conquer territory in the Holy Land, but because the leader, Emperor Frederick I (aka Barbarossa), had previously made an alliance with Saladin, and now he had to go back on his word and inform Saladin that they were going to be opponents. (We saw recently how Saladin treated oath-breakers.) The Europeans included leaders Barbarossa, Richard I of England, Philip II of France, Guy of Lusignan, and Conrad of Montferrat. Guy had already begun the Siege of Acre before the Crusaders had arrived. (The illustration is of the Siege from a 13th century history.)

You could say Saladin was the cause of the Third Crusade. After the unsuccessful Second Crusade, the Zengid dynasty controlling Syria fought the Fatimid dynasty of Egypt. Saladin, thanks to his military prowess, brought both the Syrian and Egyptian forces under his control, and used this larger army to recapture territory controlled by Crusaders, capturing Jerusalem from Guy and Sibylla in 1187.

The Crusade had early setbacks. Although Barbarossa was a leading figure in starting the Third Crusade, he was elderly. He died before ever reaching the Holy Land. Demoralized, many of the German soldiers returned home. Once the Siege of Acre was lifted, Philip of France and Barbarossa's successor, Leopold V of Austria, went home. The Siege took two years to lift, and they had had enough of camping in the Holy Land and of Richard's arrogance. Richard refused to accord Leopold the same respect he would have given Barbarossa, and refused to have the Austrian banner flown with those of the other countries involved. (Leopold would have his very ignoble revenge against Richard later.)

This put Richard and Saladin as the two major opponents of the Third Crusade. Their respect for each other as rulers and warriors became a story in itself. I'll tell you more tomorrow.

Salah ad-Din

Perhaps the most prominent Muslim in the centuries of the Crusading period was Yusuf ibn Ayyub, a Kurdish man who was given the nickname or honorific Salah ad-Din, meaning "Righteousness of the Faith." To the people of the West, this was abbreviated to Saladin.

He was born about 1137, the son of a Kurdish mercenary and politician. He was well-educated, and reportedly able to discuss arithmetic and law, Euclid and Ptolemy's Almagest, and especially the Quran. He was more interested in religion than military matters, but he became increasingly prominent because of military successes against Crusaders.

He was sent to Egypt in 1164 by Nur ad-Din, Emir of Damascus and Aleppo, to deal with a local power struggle. Shawar, the vizier to the local caliph al-Adid, had been driven from Egypt by a rival, and requested help from Nur ad-Din. Saladin played an important role in a crucial battle between the rival forces, feigning a retreat to draw the enemy into a compromised position.

In 1169, Saladin was named vizier of the Fatimid Caliphate. He was the target of an assassination attempt organized by a rival, but his chief of intelligence warned him so that he was able to foil the plan and have the person behind it killed. The next day, 50,000 Black African soldiers revolted against his rule, which he managed to quell.

I've just recently shared the results of the Battle of Hattin and Saladin's treatment of Guy of Lusignan. Shortly after that episode, however, he faced the Western adversary whose encounters with Saladin brought the man to awareness of all Europeans. Tomorrow we'll talk about the Third Crusade and the arrival of King Richard I of England, called Lionheart.

Guy and Saladin

After the disastrous Battle of Hattin, when Guy of Lusignan overestimated his ability to counter Saladin's encroachment on territory controlled by Crusaders, Guy and a few of his noble companions were brought to Saladin's tent.

Mindful that Guy—however Saladin may have disagreed with his politics or presence in the Near East—was a king, Saladin treated him with respect. Saladin offered Guy a goblet of water, a sign that he was to be treated with hospitality as a guest. Guy tried to pass the goblet to his companion, Raynald of Châtillon, but Saladin stopped him, stating that Raynald was not being offered the same respect as a guest.

In the past, Raynald had provoked Saladin with military skirmishes against the Saracens at a time when the previous king of Jerusalem, Baldwin IV, had made a truce with Saladin. Saladin now declared Raynald an oath-breaker, and would not treat him with respect. (Raynald had acted with Guy as well, at a time when Guy had been made regent on Baldwin's behalf, but Guy was now a king.)

Raynald haughtily replied to Saladin's accusation by saying "kings have always acted thus." Saladin offered him a chance to convert to Islam, but Raynald refused. Saladin took his sword and beheaded Raynald then and there. At the sight of the corpse, Guy went to his knees, but Saladin raised him up, assuring him that "A king does not kill a king." The illustration is by a 17th-century Dutch painter, Jan Lievens, showing the two men, a smiling Saladin and a downcast Guy in golden chains.)

This took place in 1187. Guy was taken prisoner, and his wife, Sibylla, was left to defend Jerusalem. Unfortunately, Jerusalem fell into Saladin's hands on 2 October. Sibylla begged Saladin to release her husband from prison, which he did. The two were rejoined and went to Tyre, the only city still controlled by Christians, thanks to the efforts of Conrad of Montferrat (Sibylla had been married to William of Montferrat, Conrad's older brother, who died years earlier from malaria).

Conrad refused the pair entry, so Guy camped outside the city awhile and later began the Siege of Acre, anticipating Richard the Lionheart's arrival with the Third Crusade. Unfortunately, Queen Sibylla and their two daughters died during an 1190 epidemic; with the queen's passing, Guy's claim to the kingship passed as well. There was another popular claimant for the throne, and Richard Lionheart weighed in as well, but before we get to that, I'd like to give Saladin some proper recognition. He has been a part of the blog for many posts, but we haven't looked at the man himself.

Next time...

Guy of Lusignan

Guy of Lusignan (c. 1150 – 18 July 1194), who married Sibylla of Jerusalem (twice!) in yesterday's post,  has been mentioned before in his role as King of Jerusalem. To be put in the position to become king, he must have had some significance prior to that point, so let's look at his earlier life.

He was originally from a noble family in Poitou. Poitou was part of Henry II's possessions on the continent, overseen by his son, Richard I "Lionheart." Guy and his brothers in 1168 attempted to capture Eleanor of Aquitaine for ransom. They failed, but managed to capture William Marshal (then only in his 20s and not yet risen to prominence). Eleanor ransomed William, but Richard banished the brothers.

The brothers wound up in the Holy Land. Aimery went there first, settling in the Kingdom of Jerusalem and marrying Eschiva of Ibelin, whose father attempted to become King of Jerusalem as Baldwin IV was failing (seen in yesterday's post). Guy came to Jerusalem sometime between 1173 and 1180, joining his brother in Jerusalem.

King Baldwin IV and his mother, Agnes of Courtenay, welcomed and supported Guy. He was made Agnes's constable in Jaffa, and then appointed by Baldwin to be constable of the kingdom. There were rumors that he was having an affair with Agnes, who was 14 years older than Guy, but they were likely designed by others to discredit him because of his growing influence.

His hasty marriage to Baldwin's sister, Sibylla, was designed to stave off the attempt of Raymond III of Tripoli to take over the Kingdom of Jerusalem and marry her off to Raymond's chosen candidate, Baldwin of Ibelin, Guy's brother's father-in-law. The marriage was likely a happy one (see below), and produced two daughters, Alix and Maria. Sibylla's son by her earlier marriage to William of Montferrat died young, so Sibylla and Guy ruled as Queen and King of Jerusalem.

Before they were crowned, however, there were members of the court that disapproved of Guy. They convinced Sibylla to annul the marriage if she wished to be crowned. She agreed, on the condition that she be allowed to choose her next husband. The court agreed, the annulment took place, the coronation took place, and then Sibylla chose her next husband: Guy of Lusignan. She had outfoxed the court for an arrangement that obviously pleased her.

As a war leader, Guy was a failure. In an attempt to prevent the growing encroachment of Saladin on the Kingdom of Jerusalem, Guy marched with the army to the disastrous Battle of Hattin, in which the army was destroyed completely. Saladin's men killed almost everyone, sparing Guy and a few others. The few were taken to Saladin's tent where, well, good and bad things happened. I'll share the gory details tomorrow.

Replacing Baldwin

I've written many times before about the importance of marriages in noble families, forging alliances with other powerful families through marriage. In the case of Baldwin IV, King of Jerusalem, finding a husband for his sister was even more crucial, because he needed to secure the succession, and he wasn't going to get an heir himself.

Baldwin had leprosy, which did not stop him from trying to be an effective king, but it meant marriage and procreation was out of the question. The best route was his sister, Sibylla. She had already been married, to William of Montferrat, and had a son named Baldwin, but William died from malaria. Sibylla herself was in the line of succession, but they wanted to make sure it would last beyond her.

Baldwin himself had become ill when visiting William, and although he survived for several more years, it became important to make sure Sibylla had a husband who could help raise her son to be the next king, and who could be trusted to perform as regent for that son so that Baldwin could safely abdicate, since he was becoming increasingly unable to perform his duties.

The High Court wanted her to marry Duke Hugh III of Burgundy, who was now a vassal of King Philip II of France after Philip invaded Burgundy. Baldwin was so desperate to get Sibylla married that he sent a message to Philip, empowering him to choose another suitor if Hugh refused. Hugh accepted, and intended to sail to Jerusalem in early 1180 for an Easter wedding. Unfortunately, internal strife in France prevented Hugh from leaving.

William of Tyre, who had helped raise Baldwin IV and wrote a history of the lands controlled by the Crusades, recorded that Count Raymond III of Tripoli and Prince Bohemond III of Antioch set out for Jerusalem, sensing Baldwin's weakness and looking to usurp his throne. There is a belief that Raymond's intent was to force Baldwin to marry Sibylla to Baldwin of Ibelin, an important noble and close friend of Raymond, then force Baldwin to abdicate.

Their plan was foiled when Sibylla hastily married Guy of Lusignan, a French knight from Poitou, in 1180. (The illustration is of their marriage.) (His older brother, Aimery of Lusignan, had married the daughter of Baldwin of Ibelin, which would have made family gatherings awkward.) Guy became, by marriage, Count of Jaffa and Ascalon and bailiff of Jerusalem.

In 1182, with his health declining, King Baldwin declared Guy regent, but doubts about how Guy and Raynald of Châtillon provoked Saladin with whom Baldwin had a truce disillusioned Baldwin, and he tried to have the marriage annulled. Baldwin died in 1185, having become blind and lame in his final years. Sibylla's son became Baldwin V, but died within the year.

The High Court agreed that she should be queen, but only on the condition that she would annul the marriage to Guy. Sibylla agreed, on the condition that she be allowed to choose her next husband. The marriage was annulled, Sibylla was crowned Queen of Jerusalem in Summer 1186, and she chose as her husband ... Guy of Lusignan, who was crowned King of Jerusalem in September 1186.

Guy has been mentioned a few times before, and I'd like to tell you a little more about his life before and after becoming King of Jerusalem.

The Leper Warrior

Although Baldwin IV of Jerusalem was confirmed to have leprosy, he was still the only viable candidate to succeed his father, Amalric, as King of Jerusalem. (The illustration shows his coronation.) He did everything he could as king, even going to war, despite the fact that the lack of sensation in his right arm and hand meant learning to guide a horse with his knees.

Jerusalem was essentially surrounded by the forces of the great sultan and warrior Saladin (c.1137 - 1193), with whom there was an unsteady truce. While Saladin himself was in Aleppo, Baldwin planned an attack on Egypt. Baldwin refused to stay behind, and planned to go to war himself.

Baldwin married his sister, Sibylla, to William of Montferrat, and named William count of Jaffa and Ascalon. In April 1177, Baldwin visited William in Ascalon, who had succumbed to malaria. Baldwin also fell ill. William died in June. Baldwin, still ill, could not command the army in the planned attack on Egypt. He had himself carried from Ascalon to Jerusalem in a litter. He handed the regency and leading of the army to Raynald of Châtillon, Prince of Antioch. Raynald's step-daughter had married Emperor Manuel I Komnenos in 1161, and Raynald was a link to the Byzantine Empire, whose navy would be helpful in the Egypt campaign.

On 18 November 1177, Saladin chose to attack Baldwin's territory in Ascalon. Baldwin rode out himself to Ascalon, but Saladin's superior numbers caused him to retreat. He sent a message to Gaza, where the Templar Knights were fighting, requesting their aid. Once the Templars arrived, Baldwin's army (with the king at the forefront) and the Templars soundly defeated Saladin's forces, killing his bodyguard and forcing Saladin to flee.

Baldwin did not fare so well at a future skirmish, however. In the spring of 1179, Saladin's nephew led a force to investigate reports that Baldwin was "stealing sheep." Baldwin was knocked off his horse and, unable to climb back on a horse without help, was carried to safety on a knight's back.

Before the death of William of Montferrat, Sibylla had become pregnant. She had given birth to a son, named Baldwin, and it seemed likely that he was going to be his uncle's successor. In fact, Baldwin IV was probably looking to abdicate, given his worsening health. To have his nephew raised properly, however, it was important to find Sibylla a new husband, one that brought good political connections and could be trusted to raise the next King of Jerusalem. There were those who were aware of the importance of Sibylla's next husband, and wanted that role for themselves. Tomorrow we'll look at the claimants, the winner, and Baldwin's departure from the public stage.

The Leper King

When William of Tyre was asked by King Amalric of Jerusalem to raise and tutor his son, Baldwin (1161 - 1185), he noticed something unusual, and ultimately disturbing. When he played with the other children, and the rough-and-tumble of kids involved pinching each other, Baldwin did not cry like the other children did. His right arm seemed impervious to the pain. (The illustration is from a French translation in the 1250s of a history by William of Tyre.)

Baldwin's riding teacher realized he did not have sensation in his right hand, and so learning to ride a horse was more difficult; Baldwin learned to control the horse with his knees. An obvious source of this problem was leprosy, but without any of the physical signs, they were reluctant to declare leprosy, since that would stigmatize the prince.

According to William, Baldwin had an excellent memory and was a quick learner, though he stuttered. His father was concerned about the boy's future and the succession. He wanted to marry Baldwin's sister, Sibylla, to Count Stephen I of Sancerre, who was chosen to be regent if Amalric died before Baldwin had attained his majority. The couple might have been also considered by Amalric to be a suitable heir to the throne of Jerusalem instead of Baldwin. Unfortunately, the match did not take place, and then Amalric died from dysentery on 11 July 1174.

The High Court met to consider the succession. Baldwin's limitation was known, but with no visible sign yet of leprosy, he was by default the heir and was crowned a few days after his father's death, on the 15th, which happened to be the 75th anniversary of the seizing of Jerusalem by the First Crusade.

Raymond III of Tripoli, a cousin of Amalric, was chosen as regent (after the man who wanted to be regent, the seneschal Miles of Plancy, was murdered in October having failed to get the cooperation of the military). Raymond made William of Tyre Chancellor, but did not replace the seneschal. When Baldwin turned 15 in 1176, Raymond returned to Tripoli.

By that time it was clear that Baldwin had leprosy. The condition advanced rapidly, affecting his limbs and his face, turning his once-good looks into a demeanor difficult to look at. As a confirmed leper, he was not allowed to marry or have children. Lepers were often segregated, but he remained on the throne. Marrying Sibylla to ensure a dynastic succession became a priority, but that becomes a long story in its own right.

Despite the leprosy, Baldwin still fought when necessary. Tomorrow I'll tell you about when Baldwin went to war.

William of Tyre

The First Crusade founded several Christian territories in the East. In order of their founding, they were the County of Edessa, the Principality of Antioch, the Kingdom of Jerusalem, and the County of Tripoli.

The Kingdom of Jerusalem's first ruler was Godfrey of Bouillon. He and his successors expanded the borders of their kingdom, covering approximately where Israel, Palestine, and Lebanon are today.

This included the city of Tyre, the birthplace of William II of Tyre c.1130. Though growing up in Jerusalem, he went back to Europe to study Liberal Arts and canon law in the universities (where he knew a man named Hilary who studied Classical literature while William was there). He studied theology in Paris under Peter Lombard (whose writings became the standard for theological education) and Bologna (probably around the same time as Peter of Blois, who was the same age).

William came back to Jerusalem in 1165, where King Amalric I appointed him ambassador to the Byzantine Empire, and sent Amalric's son, the future king Baldwin IV, to live with and be tutored by William. Baldwin had been born in 1161, so was quite young. Over time, William was to notice something very different about the boy (but more on that later).

When Amalric died in 1174, William became Chancellor to the still-very-young Baldwin, appointed by the regent, Raymond III of Tripoli. William was also made Archbishop of Tyre. In 1179, William led the Jerusalem delegation to the Third Lateran Council, called by Pope Alexander, that declared education should be made free to those who could not afford it, and that expanded the Truce of God.

William also wrote. His account of the Third Lateran and a history of the Islamic states have not survived, but his Latin work called alternately Historia rerum in partibus transmarinis gestarum ("History of Deeds Done Beyond the Sea") or Historia Ierosolimitana ("History of Jerusalem") was translated into French soon after his death and then into other languages, so has survived.

William's status was connected to his relationship with the king. There had been a brief regency after Amalric died, and Baldwin did not become king in his own right until 1176. There was some debate about his accession to the throne, but he was the only appropriate option at the time. What was the cause of the concern? It had been clear since his childhood that there was something different about him, something wrong, actually, and it would not necessarily prevent him from being king, but it would prevent him from extending the dynasty.

Tomorrow we'll look at Baldwin IV and the sad case of his illness that William noticed even when Baldwin was a child—especially when he was a child.

The Poet Hilarius

In yesterday's post on Eve of Wilton I mentioned that much of what we learn about her comes from the writing of Hilary the Englishman. He studied under Peter Abelard c. 1125 in the Champagne area of France. He also seems to have traveled around, at least to Angers in Anjou because of a poem entitled "To a Boy of Anjou."

A single manuscript of verses exists in the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris. Hilary wrote three rhyming miracle plays in mixed Latin and French. One, "The Play of the Image of St Nicholas," tells of a Muslim invasion that slaughters everyone they find but cannot harm a single man praying before an image of St. Nicholas.

Most of the poems included in the manuscript are addressed to young boys, possibly erstwhile pupils of Hilary. In "To a Boy of Anjou," Hilary begins:

Beautiful and singular boy,

Kindly inspect, I implore you,

These writings which are sent by your admirer;

Look at them, read them, and profit by what you read.

Prostrate at your knees,

On bended knee, with clasped hands,

As one of your suppliants,

I spare neither tears nor prayers.

I am afraid to speak face to face;

Speech escapes me, I am held speechless,

So I admit my sickness in writing,

Confident that I shall merit healing.

Enough, wretch! I barely bore it

When I tried to hide my love;

Now that I can no longer dissemble,

I finally extend my hands, bound together.

As a patient I demand a doctor,

Holding out my hands in supplication.

You alone have the only medication;

Therefore save me, your clerk.

Since they all profess the beauty of their subjects and his longing for them, Hilary became popular in modern scholarly LGBT circles.

William of Tyre mentioned a Hilary at Orléans c.1150 with whom William was reading Classical literature. This Hilary often gets offered as a possible additional appearance of Hilary the Englishman. This seems unlikely, because what little we know of this other Hilary is that he was connected to northern Italy and wrote in Latin and Italian. I've made one mention of William of Tyre before, but there is a lot more to say about the man who was an archbishop, a chronicler, and a European born in Jerusalem. See you next time.

Eve of Wilton

Goscelin of Canterbury was a monk and writer of hagiographies, producing (among others) one of Saint Edith of Wilton while he was chaplain to the nuns of Wilton Abbey. He did not know her personally, having been born years after Edith died. There was, however, a young nun of Wilton whom he clearly knew very well and for whom he wrote something special.

Eve of Wilton (c.1058 - c.1125) was given to Wilton Abbey as a child by her Danish father when she was about seven years old, eventually becoming a Benedictine nun. Goscelin was the chaplain at the time, and seems to have taken a special interest in her.

She left the Abbey when she was 22, going to Normandy and Chalonnes-sur-Loire in the Anjou region. Apparently, Goscelin was unaware of her departure, and was bothered that he was not consulted on her change of venue. She became an anchoress, living in a small cell with a single window through which books and food were passed for her.

Goscelin was moved to write a book for her, the Liber confortatorius ("Book of Consolation"). It starts out:

O my soul, dearer to me than the light, your Goscelin is with you, in the inseparable presence of the soul. He is with you, undivided, in his better part, that part with which he was allowed to love you, that part which cannot be hindered by any physical distance. ... Since your soul mate cannot and does not deserve to visit you in the flesh, he now seeks you out with anxious letters and long laments. ...

God's provident mercy has afforded us the consolation that, though distant in space, we can be present to each other in faith and in writing. Despite these torments of separation, which I deserved because of my crimes [italics are mine], a letter shuttling back and forth can reconnect us and keep us warm.

You have relinquished me and banished me from your sight, but your love will be able to see me in your reading and to take in my voice and my sighing words, using your eyes for ears ... Therefore do not think me cut off from you. 

The second paragraph's "which I deserved because of my crimes" suggests an Abelard and Heloise situation, an improper relationship between a male mentor and a female mentee in a religious setting. The Liber seems to be a guide for anchoresses, predating the Ancrene Wisse by several decades, but describes their relationship in a way that has caused modern readers to describe it as a "love letter."

The two never met again, and Goscelin encourages anyone finding the book to somehow get it to her.

We don't know if Eve ever saw the book written for her. Her life as an anchoress took an unusual turn. Anchoresses and anchorites usually stayed in their cell until death, but Eve forsook the anchoress life to live with a former monk named Hervé. This was highly unexpected, but we are told they were given approval by an abbot, Geoffrey of Vendôme.

The story of her on the continent was written about by an English poet called Hilary the Englishman. I want to talk about him next time.

Goscelin of Canterbury

In some ways, this is an extension of yesterday's post on the Politics of Saints, because Goscelin—our chief source of information on Edith of Wilton—was likely writing partly from belief and partly from the desire for financial benefit. Not financial benefit for him, of course—he was a Benedictine monk—but benefit to Wilton Abbey (shown, now a manor), for whose nuns he was chaplain. His writing elevated the status of the Abbey since it was the home of Edith of Wilton and her relics.

Goscelin (c.1040 - c.1106) may have been Fleming by birth. He became a monk at St. Bertin's in Saint-Omer in France before traveling to England and joining the household of Herman, Bishop of Ramsbury. (Some of this information comes from William of Malmesbury, some from Goscelin himself.) He probably arrived after the Norman Conquest in 1066.

He became secretary to the bishop and chaplain to the nuns. He was known for writing hagiographies—lives of saints—and these were always designed to put the saint's life in the best possible light. There is no doubt that he faithfully portrayed in his life of Saint Edith what the legends of Wilton Abbey said about her, but the tales of her visions as she appeared to others and urged her own canonization are suspect, as are the few miracles around her relics. He may also have written to please the rulers who believed in her.

After the bishop's death in 1078, his successor was not someone whom Goscelin respected. Osmund of Sées was a Norman, coming in with William of Normandy, and Goscelin for whatever reason did not approve of him. Goscelin traveled around after that, writing hagiographies of various saints. He wrote an account of translating (moving) the relics of St. Augustine in 1091, and dedicated the work to Anselm.

One of his writings was not a hagiography but a book of advice to a young woman at Wilton. He wrote this book not knowing if she would ever see it. The unusual circumstance, the book, and the young girl, will be tomorrow's topic.

The Politics of Saints

After Edith of Wilton died (c.984), her canonization was a slow process, taking 13 years (slow for the time; canonization these days in the Roman Catholic Church has more stringent requirements). One of the issues may have been that, although she chose to remain in Wilton Abbey her whole life, and at the age of two chose religious objects over fine clothing and jewelry, her life was not the same as a humble servant of God.

She wore clothing befitting a princess, had a special metal container for heating bath water, and a collection of exotic animals provided by her father, King Edgar, and others. She also kept contact with her father that enabled her to use his influence in various ways. Goscelin of Canterbury wrote that her influence with her father was so profound that people from other countries and Rome would visit her, bringing her gifts for her growing zoo and asking for help with the king.

Christianity and politics were deeply entwined: kings were believed to rule by divine right, and Christian counsel was sought by rulers. Having a saint in the family was a good sign, so it makes sense that, 13 years after her death, her half-brother Æthelred pushed her canonization with the support of St. Dunstan.

Even King Cnut, who conquered half of England from Æthelred's son, Edmund II, supported her sainthood, perhaps as a way to ingratiate himself to the Wessex royalty, although marrying Æthelred's widow might have been sufficient. Cnut claimed that Edith appeared and saved him from a storm at sea.

Edith's "miracles" were mostly not of helping people with curing illness, but of appearances in visions, and often, shall we say, self-serving. Prior to canonization, she appeared to people urging them to support her elevation to sainthood. Afterward, when a Wilton nun tried to take one of her relics, a headband, Edith's head appeared to warn her off.

Of course, all of this comes from Goscelin of Canterbury, writing several decades after her death. We should take a closer look at him, next time.

Saint Edith

Imagine being a toddler, being raised by your mother in a convent, and then discovering that you are a royal princess. I cannot imagine how that must have affected Edith of Wilton (c.961 - c.984) growing up.

Her mother was Wulfthryth, who was taken from the nunnery at Wilton Abbey by King Edgar the Peaceable, who initially wanted Wulfthryth's sister, Wulfhild. After bearing him a daughter, Wulfthryth decided to return to the nunnery, taking her daughter and leaving Edgar to find another wife (which he did in Ælfthryth).

There is a later story that, when Edith was two, her father came to Wilton and laid before her royal clothing and jewelry, while her mother presented her with religious objects. Edith supposedly reached for the religious objects, displaying her devotion to religion. This story is likely apocryphal, but Edith did, in fact, devote her life to religion. It is also said that, when she was 15, Edgar offered to make her an abbess and gave her a choice of three convents, but she chose to remain at Wilton for the rest of her life.

A saint's life written a century later by Goscelin of Canterbury suggests that Edgar was a supporter of his daughter, his former wife, and the Abbey. Goscelin describes her as wearing very grand clothing at the Abbey, annoying the other residents. Her choice of these royal garments was tested when a candle fell on the chest containing them; the chest burned, but the clothing inside was unharmed.

Edith may have remained a secular member of Wilton and not become a nun. She seems to have lived a grand life. Edgar sent her two foreign tutors, gave her clothing, financed the re-building of the convent with a chapel designed by Edith, and Edith occasionally visited her father's court. Edith also had a private zoo of exotic animals at the convent.

In 984, she built a chapel dedicated to the 3rd-century Saint Denis. The dedication ceremony was performed by St. Dunstan, who predicted that Edith would die in three weeks. She did. At the moment of her death, a nun at Wilton saw ranks of angels singing in the abbey church.

After her death, there were only a few miracles attributed to her, so the progress to canonize her was slow, but she was eventually named a saint by her brother King Æthelred II 13 years after her death.

Of course the stories, especially written long after her death and relying on legends told by the abbey, cannot be taken at face value. There was a great deal of politics to be found in acknowledging certain saints. Tomorrow I want to talk about Edith's sainthood and what it meant to the king.

Wulfthryth and Edith of Wilton

King Edgar (c.944 - 975) had a few children by a few women. One of the women was Wulfthryth of Wilton, an English noblewoman born c.937 who was being educated at the nunnery at Wilton Abbey when Edgar came along. His goal was to marry her cousin, Wulfhild, who was also at the abbey. Wulfhild resisted his amorous advances—her goal was to be a nun, and she eventually became the abbess—and he chose to marry Wulfthryth instead.

With Wulfthryth he had a child, Edith, born c.961. The relationship did not last long, however: in a year or two Wulfthryth chose to return to Wilton Abbey, and took Edith with her. Although Wulfthryth had born a daughter, that did not disqualify her from becoming Wilton's abbess later.

St. Dunstan (supposedly) did not approve of Edgar's actions, taking Wulfthryth away, impregnating her, and then whatever action caused her to leave. He described penance for Edgar, who did not wear his crown for seven years. Edgar also gave Wulfthryth six estates—although that may have been out of actual care for her, not as penance—which later she gave to Wilton Abbey. When bailiffs wanted to arrest a thief who had requested sanctuary at Wilton, she was able to prevent it by her connection to the king. Likewise she secured the release of two priests who had been imprisoned.

Like Wulfthryth, Edith was raised and educated at Wilton Abbey, and chose to enter the religious life. There is a story that, when she was two years old, King Edgar visited her and placed before her a set of clothing and jewelry suitable for a royal princess. At the same time, her mother placed before her religious objects. Edith reached for the religious objects. This story is likely apocryphal, and existed to emphasize her piety by turning away from riches to religion.

At the age of 15, Edgar offered her the chance to be abbess of one of three different convents, but she chose to remain at Wilton. Edgar continued to be supportive of his only daughter, and the balance between her identity as a royal personage and her status as a nun at Wilton remained an issue. I'll talk about her progress to become a saint tomorrow.

After Killing a King

After the startling murder of Edward the Martyr, Ælfthryth's role in the incident came under scrutiny. Was she simply greeting her stepson the king and offering him refreshment after his journey to Corfe Castle to visit her and her son? Or was she deliberately distracting him with a drink so that he could be unsuspecting and unprepared while he was dragged from his horse and stabbed by her (or Æthelred's) retainers?

Or was it possibly a Becket situation, with the retainers acting on their own to remove an obstacle to Æthelred's accession to the throne, knowing this was what he or his mother wanted?

Whatever the case, the murder of a king was shocking. Kings were considered to hold their position by divine right, and killing one was an egregious sin. The hasty burial at Wareham was "unceremonious," to say the least. A year later, the body was removed to Shaftesbury Abbey. When they dug him up, he was deemed "uncorrupted," a sign of saintliness.

Contemporary chroniclers telling the tale of the murder do not name the murderer(s), which is unusual since they would be known, and presumably punished. This reticence could be explained by the writers avoiding naming publicly the person they deemed the real culprit, Ælfthryth. Naming the woman who had been crowned a queen as a plotter of assassination was a bold move.

Chroniclers might also have avoided naming the murderer(s) because they were retainers of Æthelred, and since he was by default the next king, any suggestion that he might have instigated or planned the murder was a chancy idea to put into writing.

In any case, the young Æthelred became king. I've written about him several times, so I want to fulfill a promise I made two days ago, when I said here that I would have more to say on Edgar's "middle" family, his second consort and her daughter. See you tomorrow for the story of Saint Edith.