Mother and Wife of Kings

Ælfgifu on the Bayeaux Tapestry

Ælfgifu of Northampton was once mentioned here as the wife of King Cnut. When King Svein Forkbeard of Denmark invaded England, the English capitulated quickly, and Svein married his son Cnut to a Mercian noblewoman, Ælfgifu.* Their first child was Svein Knutsson, the future King of Norway.

Svein Forkbeard died in 1014, and our old friend Æthelred the Unready moved in, forcing Cnut to flee to Denmark. While there, Cnut and Ælfgifu had another child who would grow up to be Harold Harefoot (King of England from 1035-1040, and mentioned here).

In 1016, Cnut re-conquered England, and then cemented his power base there by putting Ælfgifu aside and marrying the widow of Æthelred, Emma of Normandy. This doesn't mean that his first wife was completely removed from power: he sent her to Norway with young Svein where she apparently ruled while acting as regent for their son. This period in Norway is remembered for heavy taxes and shortages.

Back in England, Cnut's death in 1035 created a conflict. Cnut and Emma had a son, Harthacnut, who was next in line. Ælfgifu wanted the throne for her son Harold, and probably made a lot of the decisions during his five-year reign. Harold died in March of 1040 and was buried at Westminster Abbey. Harthacnut at the time was preparing to launch an attack on England; he was able to just step in, take the throne, and have Harold's body dug up and thrown into a swamp. (Loyal followers later found it and buried it again.)

After 1040, the woman married to one king and mother to two more fails to show up in any records.

*She was called "Ælfgifu of Northampton" in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle to distinguish her from other Ælfgifus, such as those of Exeter, York, and Shaftesbury; it was a popular name!

My Lips Are Sealed

Confidentiality is expected in many relationships: doctor-patient, lawyer-client, ... and priest-penitent. The so-called "Seal of the Confessional" is the practice/policy of priests to protect the pronouncements of penitents.

The Decretum Gratiani ["Decrees of Gratian"] is a collection of canon laws published by the jurist Johannes Gratian c.1150. It includes the line "Let the priest who dares to make known the sins of his penitent be deposed."

We are not sure when this idea was first expressed, but the Fourth Lateran Council of 1215, which  laid down rules for the whole Catholic Church, explained the practice thusly:

Let the priest absolutely beware that he does not by word or sign or by any manner whatever in any way betray the sinner: but if he should happen to need wiser counsel let him cautiously seek the same without any mention of person. For whoever shall dare to reveal a sin disclosed to him in the tribunal of penance we decree that he shall be not only deposed from the priestly office but that he shall also be sent into the confinement of a monastery to do perpetual penance.

No explanation is given for this secrecy, but an English jurist in the 1400s, William Lyndwood, explains that the sacrament involving confession practically by definition requires that the "secret" be kept quiet. Even the secular authorities recognize this relationship. A priest may suggest to a confessed criminal that he turn himself over to the courts, but the courts do not compel a priest to reveal what he knows.

Well, not all secular authorities. In March 1393, John of Nepomuk (born c.1345) was tortured and thrown into the river by King Wenceslaus IV (who was otherwise fairly tolerant). Wenceslaus was angry with him because he was the Confessor to Wenceslaus' wife, the Queen of Bohemia, and would not tell her husband what she talked about. John was canonized as Saint John of Nepomuk, and is considered the first martyr because of the Seal of the Confessional and the patron saint against false witness.

More on Torture

We've talked about torture before, regarding the Templars, and the "ultimate" torture of being hanged, drawn and quartered; and, of course, when HD&Q was first applied to a rebellious Welshman.

Torture in the Classical Era had limits: at first it would only be applied to slaves. In fact, evidence given by a slave was required to be given under torture, because slaves could not be trusted to be truthful on their own!

In the Middle Ages, torture was admissible for getting evidence, but it was not to be used randomly; there had to be some proof that the person was guilty before it was appropriate to use torture to get a full confession.

Although torturous methods of execution were a chance for public exhibitions (so that they could be a deterrent to crime), torture used for extraction of information was private. The methods were numerous: the Rack (seen above), thumbscrews, hot irons applied to the body, hot pincers pulling the body apart, etc.

Torture took a significant turn on 15 May 1252 with the papal bull ad extirpanda, by Pope Innocent IV. It is called ad extirpanda from the opening words in Latin, which translate as "To root up from the midst of Christian people the weed of heretical wickedness...". The point of it was to authorize torture for use against heretics. Even so, it had limits:

• It was to be used when there was certainty that the subject was guilty of heresy
• It was to be used on a person only once
• It was not to cause loss of life or of a limb

Actual execution of a convicted heretic was to be carried out within five days by the secular authority, which was also allowed a share of the property of the convicted.

Torture of heretics was rescinded by another papal bull in 1816.

Richard's Lionheart

Box that held Richard's heart. The inscription reads:
"Here is the heart of Richard, King of England." 

Once Richard the Lionheart died from a crossbow bolt that was removed by a clumsy surgeon, the debate over appropriate interment began. Like saints, "There's such divinity doth hedge a king" (to borrow a phrase from Shakespeare*) that the body is special, and many people for whom he was their lord would want his memorial to be in their territory. His body was sent to Fontevraud Abbey to be interred near the body of his father, King Henry II. (See the picture in the post linked to above.)

But that was just his body.

Supposedly, on his deathbed he told his mother that he wanted his heart to go to Rouen, where it was placed in the Cathedral of Notre Dame. Rouen was the base for English forces in France at the time. His other internal organs were removed and buried in Chalus, where he died.

Over time, the location of the heart and entrails were lost, but an excavation at Notre Dame in 1838 uncovered a lead box inscribed with "Here is the heart of Richard, King of England."

Technically, the "heart" doesn't exist: 800 years has reduced it to dust, but that dust contains clues to 12th century embalming techniques. A 2006 "autopsy" was performed to find out what it could about the heart. It found several components:

• Human proteins associated with cardiac muscle
• Fragments of linen (the heart was probably wrapped in it)
• Some lead and tin (probably leached into the dust from the box)  and mercury (used during embalming)
• Pollens: pine, oak, poplar, plantain, bellflower (in the air when he died, so probably incidental)
• Myrtle, daisy, mint (not in bloom in spring, and probably used during embalming to give a nice aroma)
• Frankincense (used for embalming and symbolically because of the Three Wise Men's gifts)



The remains as they look today, in a crystal container.

• Calcium (probably from lime used to preserve the heart)

Of interest to historians is the elements found that can only be accounted for by attempts to embalm/preserve the heart. The Church frowned on embalming, because it was known to be a pagan practice.

The shoebox-sized reliquary, and the crystal box that contains the remains of the heart of Richard, now sit in the Museum of Natural History in Rouen.

*Hamlet, Act IV, Scene 5, line 98

Richard the LionHeart's Death

Richard's tomb at Fontevraud Abbey

Richard the Lionheart (1157 - 1199) died from complications after being hit by a crossbow shot by a follower of the Viscount of Limoges. But I'm getting ahead of myself...

In March of 1199, Richard besieged the town of Châlus near Limoges, because the lord of Châlus held a Roman treasure that had just been discovered by a farmer plowing his field. Richard, as overlord of the area (he was the Duke of Aquitaine, after all), demanded the treasure. His demand was refused.

On the evening of 25 or 26 March, an archer shot at Richard—who had neglected to put on his chain mail—while he stood outside the walls, driving the shaft deep into Richard's left shoulder. From this point on, things might have gone differently, but carelessness and circumstance had their way with Richard. In pulling out the crossbow bolt, the shaft broke, leaving the head inside. A surgeon removed the head, but did much additional damage to the wound, and infection set in.

Richard knew he wasn't going to live much longer. A message was sent to his mother (but not his wife), Eleanor of Aquitaine, who rushed to his side. The siege was successful while he lay incapacitated, and the archer was brought before him. Although different chroniclers identify the archer as one of four different men, all stories agree that Richard magnanimously forgave the archer, saying "Live on, and by my bounty behold the light of day,"and gave him 100 shillings and his freedom. Sadly, for the archer, Richard's followers had other ideas. Richard died on 6 April, and either Richard's captain Mercadier or Richard's sister Joan (depending on which chronicle you read) had the archer flayed alive and then hanged.

But that's not what I wanted to talk about. I really wanted to discuss what happened to Richard's body afterward, but I seem to have run out of time. We will look at that subject tomorrow.

Child Lionheart

The vineyards of Cognac

Today is the 823rd wedding anniversary of King Richard I of England, called Lionheart, and Berengaria of Navarre. They had no children, which is why Richard's brother John later took the throne. Richard, however, had a son from an earlier assignation, whose mother is unknown.

He was named Philip, probably after Richard's friend (and sometime adversary) Philip II of France. We don't know his birth date, but he was old enough in the 1190s to be married to Amelia of Cognac, heiress to Itier V, the Seigneur of Cognac* in Charente, in west-central France. When Amelia died, Philip inherited the castle, which later passes into the hands of his seneschal, Robert of Thornham, who had distinguished himself during the Crusades.

One wonders if Philip cared for his noble birth, or simply yearned for a quiet life. He does not keep the estate in Cognac, and we only see his name later in the Pipe Rolls (the financial records of the kings of England). In 1201, during the reign of King John, we find the entry: "And to Philip, son of King Richard, one mark as a gift." A report that there is a record of him "selling his lordship" to King John is just a rumor.

Roger of Hoveden claims in his Chronica that Philip avenged his father's death by killing the Viscount of Limoges, because the crossbow that led to Richard's death was fired while Richard was suppressing a revolt by Limoges. Hoveden's is the only reference to this event, however, and it seems unlikely, especially for a figure who seems so undistinguished and anonymous in all other ways. Except for life as a character in Shakespeare's King John, and as the potential successor to King John in the TV movie Princess of Thieves, Philip of Cognac has passed out of human memory...or interest.

*As you may guess, cognac brandy comes from this region.

The Headless Saint

How to keep your head? In you hands!

Saint Solange was born in the 9th century near Bourges, France, to a family of poor but very devout Christians. Growing up, she herded sheep and devoted herself to Christ at the age of seven. She was considered so holy that her mere presence as a child healed people and exorcised devils.

One day in the year 880, while tending her sheep, a young man (some legends say it was Bernard, the son of the Count of Poitiers, who has been mentioned briefly in this blog as Bernard Plantapilosa) approached her, making advances which she rebuffed. So Bernard did what any entitled nobility would do (whose mother wrote books of advice that her sons probably never received): he drew his sword and cut off her head.

Her head said "Jesus" three times, then her body picked it up and walked to the church of Saint-Martin in the village of Saint-Martin-du-Crot and dropped dead. Saint-Martin-du-Crot is now known as Sainte-Solange. A cult of veneration developed around her relics—particularly her head—and pilgrims came for miraculous cures. Her head was used in processions through the town when drought threatened.

She is a patron saint of victims of sexual assault. Her feast day is 10 May.

Saint John the Dwarf

In the 5th century, a very short man was born in Egypt to a poor Christian family; he became known as John Kolobos, from the Greek Ιωάννης Κολοβός [Ioannes Kolobos, "John the Dwarf"]. Early in life he decided he wanted to join the monastery in the Nitrian Desert run by St. Pimen the Great (also called Saint Pambo) with John's brother, Daniel.

Life at the monastery inspired him to greater sacrifice—or made him unhappy with the demands of the lifestyle—and he thought of a plan to live even more simply:

...St John told his elder brother that he did not want to be concerned about clothing and food, and that he wished to live like the angels in Paradise. Daniel allowed him to go to a deserted place, so that he would be afflicted. He removed his clothing, John went out from the cell. It was very cold at night, and after a week John became hungry.
One night John went back to the monastery and began to knock on the door of the cell. “Who is it?” Daniel asked.
“It is I, your brother John.”
Daniel replied, “John has become an angel, and is no longer among men.”
John continued to knock, but Daniel would not let him in until morning. Then he said, “You are a man and must work again if you want to eat.” St John wept bitterly, asking for forgiveness. [link]

Having realized that he needed to think more rationally about his expectations of the monastic life, he was given an assignment by St. Pimen. St. Pimen understood that John needed to learn obedience—and perhaps some humility—and gave him an assignment: John was to water a dry stick every day until it bloomed. The process took three years, after which the stick bore leaves and fruit. There is a tree in the Nitrian Desert called the Tree of Obedience that purports to be from the stick watered by John the Dwarf.

John became a guide to many others, such as St. Arsenius the Great, and authored the "Life of Saint Paisius." His feast day is celebrated on 17 October.

Asbestos

Lovely ceiling tiles at Cleeve Abbey with asbestos in them

Pliny the Elder has a chapter in his Natural History on something he calls "live" linen:

It is generally known as “live” linen, and I have seen, before now, napkins that were made of it thrown into a blazing fire, in the room where the guests were at table, and after the stains were burnt out, come forth from the flames whiter and cleaner than they could possibly have been rendered by the aid of water. It is from this material that the corpse-cloths of monarchs are made, to ensure the separation of the ashes of the body from those of the pile. [Book XIX, Chap.4]

The Greeks, we are told, call this material asbestinon* ["inextinguishable"]. It was used to wrap royalty for their funeral pyres, because their ashes could be kept separate from the wood ashes. Charlemagne also used to entertain his guests by throwing the tablecloth into the fire after the meal, then removing it with all the stains burned off. Marco Polo was also shown cloth that whitened in fire and did not burn.

Asbestos was not just for cute tricks. It was used as insulation for armor, and in 9th and 10th century Afghanistan it was used to eat off. It also promoted belief in miracles:

the most fascinating use of asbestos during the period was as a magical cross sold by traveling merchants.  The crosses, cut from asbestos, looked like very old, worn wood and were advertised by merchants as "true crosses" made directly from the wood of the cross upon which Jesus Christ of Nazareth died.  To illustrate the magical cross's powers, the merchants would throw the wood into a fire where it would remain undamaged. [link]

The health risks of asbestos did not escape notice, however. Pliny did note that slaves who worked weaving asbestos had lung problems. Romans—who called it  amiantus, "unpolluted" (because of its ability to come clean from a fire)—understood that buying slaves who worked with asbestos was a bad return on investment, because they died younger than other slaves.

*"Asbestos" is used to describe six silicate minerals with thin fibrous crystals that can be woven into thread and thence into cloth.

The Fighting Bishop

Tomb of Remigius, Lincoln Cathedral [link]

A "ship list" exists of the ships used by William of Normandy when he conquered England in 1066. It records who contributed the ship and in many cases the men and supplies aboard. One of the ships was provided by Remigius de Fécamp, a Benedictine monk.

The exact participation of Remigius is in dispute. According to the historian Henry of Huntingdon (c.1088 - c.1157), Remigius fought at the Battle of Hastings, bringing 20 knights along with his ship. Gerald of Wales, however, who thought so highly of Remigius that he tried to get him canonized as a saint (it never happened), said he only came along with 10 knights that were sent from the region of Fécamp.

His contribution must have been significant, because after the Conquest he was made the Bishop of Dorchester, which at the time was the largest diocese in England. But he had to continue "fighting": his ordination by Stigand, Archbishop of Canterbury was a point of contention when papal legates came to England in 1070 and pushed Stigand out of his office, also reversing the appointment of Remigius to Dorchester. Stigand's successor, Lanfranc, wouldn't touch the subject of Remigius' legitimacy, and Remigius had to travel to Rome in 1071 to seek forgiveness from Pope Alexander II and become "properly" re-appointed as a bishop.

Was there smooth sailing now that he was recognized as Bishop of Dorchester? Not quite. There were two archbishoprics in England—York and Canterbury—and each one claimed that Dorchester belonged in its territory and Remigius' loyalty was to that archbishop. Lanfranc and the Archbishop of York, Thomas of Bayeaux, appealed to Pope Alexander II who, even though he was a former pupil of Lanfranc's and held him in high esteem, refused to take sides, pushing the debate back to the king's council in England.

The council ruled that Dorchester (and Lichfield and Worcester, to which York also lay claim), belonged to Canterbury. Still, Thomas would occasionally ask for help from Remigius, such as during the consecration of the Bishop of the Orkney Islands. Remigius, not wanting to set a precedent that he "worked for" York, appealed to Canterbury to keep him away from the ceremony.

Remigius had a long and busy career, taking part in William's courts, and sitting on the commission that produced the Domesday Book. He died on 7 May 1092 and was buried in Lincoln Cathedral, where his bones, chalice, paten, and half of his crozier were recovered in 1927.

Skincare for Women

Madonna of the Recommended,
Lippo Memmi (c.1291 - 1356)

Cosmetics were known as far back as early Egyptian culture, so it is no surprise that ways to maintain good skin were known through the Medieval Era. The materials needed for cosmetics were derived from some of the same sources as medicines—such as lily root or white lead—so much cosmetic advice came from physicians.

An example of ideal skin was the 1350 painting by Lippo Memmi, "Madonna of the Recommended." Trotula of Salerno offered recipes for fair skin. "Fair skin" was not necessarily light-colored skin, but referred to smoothness  and a lack of blemishes. A woman could be considered "fair-skinned" if she were a pale Englishwoman or an olive-complexioned Mediterranean. Frequent smallpox epidemics made fair skin a rarity.

There were several ways to treat a less-than-perfect complexion. Rubbing a saliva-coated amethyst over pimples to remove them was one method, or just hold the amethyst over a pot of boiling water and use the moisture that gathers on it.

Hildegard of Bingen (c.1098 - 1179) is known today largely for her devotional musical compositions, but as this blog has noted in the past, she also gave medical advice for, among other things, clear skin:

Pulverize ginger with twice as much galingale* and a half portion of zedoary.** Place in a tied cloth in vinegar and then in wine so it doesn't become too dark. Smear the skin where eruptions are, and he will be cured.

Rosemary, also mentioned previously in this blog, could be mixed with white wine and applied to the face as a beauty treatment. And if you wanted to get rid of freckles, the Liber de Diversis Medicinis ["Book of Diverse Medicines"] from 14th century England (found in the Lincoln Thornton Manuscript in Lincoln Cathedral) suggested the blood of a hare or bull.

I feel compelled to add the caveat: Don't try these at home!

*Galingale was a plant from the ginger family.
**Zedoary is a perennial herb native to India. Also called "white turmeric," it has largely been replaced in western cuisine by ginger.

May Day Quiche

Baking, pulled from a neat food history site for kids

The Earl of Bradford once produced a cookbook. That makes it sound more historically interesting than it really is (apologies to the earl), because it was just a few years ago. In it, he and his co-author mention that English peasants, in the week after the vernal equinox, had the right to the milk that would normally have gone to the lord on whose land they were tenants.

With this extra milk they could make cheese and butter that would last for awhile. In that honor, I present a cheese tart recipe from the Forme of Cury book (mentioned before) assembled by the cooks of Richard II. The recipe is for "Tart de Bry" and reads like this:

Tart de Bry. Take a crust ynche depe in a trap. Take yolkes of ayren rawe & chese ruayn & medle it & þe yolkes togyder. Do þerto powdour gynger, sugur, safroun, and salt. Do it in a trap; bake it & serue it forth.

Let's see how the translation works if we stick closely to the original:

• Take a crust an inch deep in a trap [trapped in a pan/dish]
• Take yolks of eggs raw & autumn* [older; not soft] cheese & mix it and the yolks together.
• Add thereto powdered ginger, sugar, saffron, and salt.
• Put it in the trap.
• Bake it and serve it forth.

Pretty straightforward—forgetting for the moment the near-complete lack of measurements. Keep in mind that precise measurements for baking did not really exist until 20th century United States and the invention of Betty Crocker, with the intent to make baking easy for any household. Medieval cooks no doubt had their own tools and cups with which they learned to make the same dish over and over, relying on memory and experience.

We are pretty sure that the "Bry" of the title would have resembled our modern Brie, but was probably not as soft as modern Brie. Another version of this recipe gives directions to grate the cheese, so it would have to be more firm than we expect Brie to be. If you are interested in more medieval cookery, there are many websites devoted to it, especially this one.

Hope you had a happy May Day!

*ruayn was a word for cheese made from the milk from cows that grazed the autumn fields. Remember that tenants were allowed to graze their animals on common land after the harvest.

The New Church

Explanation of cross-in-square from this fascinating site.

Today is May Day, and the anniversary of the consecration of the Nea Ekklesia [Greek: "New Church"] in 880.

It was built by Emperor Basil I the Macedonian (c.830 - 886). Although he started as a peasant, he advanced politically until he was in a position to usurp the throne of Emperor Michael III in 867. He set out to create a new golden age of Byzantine art, and he wound up being considered one of the greatest Byzantine emperors. In his desire to reproduce the glory of the reign of Justinian I, he started a building campaign. The pinnacle of this campaign was the Nea Ekklesia, which he considered his answer to the magnificent Hagia Sophia.

One of the things that made it "new" was the floor plan, something called "cross-in-square." Typical churches before that time—and, truthfully, after that time as well—were laid out like a cross, longer than they were wide. Nea Ekklesia broke that mold. Byzantine architecture had already shown a preference and flair for domes, and mounting them on a square base with a feature called a pendentive. Nea Ekklesia was a new style that filled out the cross shape by centering it in a square and putting several domes over the four additional sections. (See the illustration above for an example of a standard cross-in-square.)

As important as the Nea was, it was eventually turned into a monastery (called, perhaps predictably, "New Monastery") in the 11th century. After the Ottomans conquered the Byzantine Empire in 1453, the building was used to store gunpowder. It was destroyed in 1490 when it was struck by lightning.

Assassins

The scholar Steven Runciman tells us of the founding of the group now known as the Assassins. A Persian called Hasan as-Sabah (1050s - 1124), a member of the Ismaili sect of Shi'ite Islam, founded it as a religious group. As a religious group, however, it lacked something:

Wherein exactly his teaching improved on the mystical and allegorical theology of the Ismaili is obscure. His outstanding achievement was more practical. It was to build up an Order, united in strict obedience to himself as Grand Master, which he used for political purposes. [History of the Crusades]

Their recorded actions were more political than spiritual, killing members of the Abbasid Caliphate. They racked up a good score, and also went after Europeans such as Count Raymond of Tripoli (the father of this gentleman), Conrad of Montferrat, Albert Avogadro the patriarch of Jerusalem (1149 - 1214), and they even stabbed (but didn't kill) the prince who would become Edward I of England.

They hid in the Daylam Mountains and were few in number, and so used subtlety to achieve their goals:

[They] were taught different languages, science, trade, philosophy, etc. so that they were able to infiltrate the ranks of their enemies. They didn’t always kill their intended target though, intimidation was often enough to make their enemy think twice. They often left daggers on the pillow of their target as they slept as a clear sign that they weren’t safe anywhere. [source]

In December 1253, the invading Mongol Empire attacked the Assassin stronghold, Alamut, in the mountains. The Assassins were driven out, and although they did return in 1275, their success was brief. They were driven out for good within months and dissolved as an organized group.

The Modern English word "assassin" comes from what they were called, Hashshashin. "Everyone knows" that they were called that because they consumed hashish before conducting their missions. If this were that common a practice for them, however, they might not have been able to operate effectively.

The term we find being applied to them is hashishiyya, used by a Fatimid caliph in 1122. The title is given with no definition. Later English speakers made the hashish connection, but this betrays an ignorance of Arabic. It is in fact a common derogatory  term, and can mean "low-class rabble" or "social outcasts."

Conrad of Montferrat

[source]

On 28 April in 1192, Conrad of Montferrat was assassinated.

Conrad was an interesting character, a well-born European caught up in the fervor of one of his era's greatest pastimes: to occupy the Holy Land. At one point in his career, while he held the city of Tyre, Saladin appeared outside the walls with Conrad's father, the captured William V of Montferrat.* Saladin made an offer: surrender Tyre and Saladin would give up William and be very generous to Conrad. Supposedly, Conrad aimed his crossbow at his father, claiming that William had already lived a long life. Saladin was not that harsh a man: shocked, he commented "This man is an unbeliever and very cruel." and moved William out of harm's way. (William was released a year later.)

Conrad's leadership was not admired by all Europeans. Conrad's later position as King of Jerusalem was contested by the supporters of Guy of Lusignan, who included King Richard of England. Conrad was supported by Philip II of France (a childhood rival of Richard's), and Leopold V of Austria—a name well-known to those familiar with Richard's story: Leopold is the one who imprisoned Richard later, when Richard tried to return to England.

All the details of the political debate are not important here; suffice it to say that Conrad's disputed kingship was finally put to a vote, and the barons chose him over Guy. Two days later, however, he was attacked by two assassins. Guards killed one and captured the other, who claimed under torture that he was hired by Richard. Historians have other suspects for the hiring as well. Whomever hired them, however, the fact remains: this is one of the earliest references to a European dying at the hands of the Hashshashin, the group from which we derive the modern English "assassin". But you might not know what you think you know about them, and we will look into that tomorrow.

*William of Montferrat is well-known to 21st century computer gamers as one of the nine Templars in the game Assassin's Creed.

Grazing Rights

In England there are still many "Commons" that are accessible by locals for grazing their animals. Their origin can be summed up in simple terms:

Farmers who owned animals needed to have somewhere to graze them. In the early medieval period there was plenty of waste land which could be used for grazing. But later on more people [...] needed more food. More waste land was ploughed up for arable crops, and it became necessary to limit the number of animals that could be grazed. [source]

The Modern English word "stint"—meaning to be frugal about something, or to limit one's access—originally referred to the limitations put on how much grazing each tenant could enjoy.

In the Middle Ages, the land on which many grazed their animals was part of their lord's estate. Only the farmers who were tenants on his land were allowed to graze their animals there. Outsiders trying to graze their animals could be hauled into court and fined.

It was not just open land that could be used for grazing. Once the fields were cleared, animals were allowed to graze on the stubble. There were rules, so that no one had a head start on this grazing. In one instance, the church would ring its bell when the harvest was done and grazing was allowed. Grazing could continue until 15 October, when the land had to be prepared for the spring planting. Once crop rotation was being practiced, there was always a fallow field that animals could be put on afterward.

One scholar believes that commons were a tradition begun in neolithic times, and maintained during the era of Roman Britain. She believes the commons were places where communities not only grazed beasts:

Post-medieval folklore suggests that these meetings may have been accompanied by games and competitions, the making of marriages and other formal agreements between groups, and opportunities to catch up between members of extended families. [source]

There are still many commons in England today, maintained as part of English tradition.

Letter to Mellitus

St. Mellitus, converter of Anglo-Saxons

We have the story, handed down from Bede, that Pope Gregory I sent a mission to England in 597 to convert the population to Christianity. The 40 missionaries were allowed by Æthelbert of Kent to preach there, and the conversions began. Æthelbert himself converted some time prior to 601.

The story goes that the pope wrote letters to England in July of 601, with what was considered extraordinary advice at the time. He had written to Æthelbert , asking him to destroy pagan shrines, but a separate letter to the missionaries took a different approach. Rather than engage in forcible conversions, which usually required converting the ruler first and then having him force his entire nation to convert en masse, Gregory advised them to use persuasion and a gradual conversion process.

Rather than destroy pagan shrines and temples, Gregory suggested converting them. Instead of stopping pagan sacrifices, they should be made into Christian festivals. He suggested that the pagan Anglo-Saxons be considered as if they were the early Israelites, and introduced to early  Jewish practices, like building huts during the Jewish festival of Sukkot. Gregory thought they could be "gradually" introduced to Christianity this way.

The source of this advice is the Epistola ad Mellitum ["Letter to Mellitus"]. Mellitus was head of the missionaries in a second group in 601 (the first group was headed by Augustine). He brought a great number of books and other religious materials with him. Mellitus was made the first Bishop of London. Mellitus' patron was King Sæberht of Essex (Æthelbert's nephew, whom Mellitus baptized), but after Sæberht and Æthelbert died in 616, Mellitus was exiled by Sæberht's three pagan sons, and went to Gaul. Æthelbert's successor converted to Christianity a few years later, however, and Mellitus returned to become the third Archbishop of Canterbury.

As archbishop, he is supposed to have performed a miracle: after a fire started in the town and threatened the cathedral, the wind changed direction when Mellitus entered it and saved the building.

Mellitus died on 24 April in 624 and was buried in St. Augustine's Abbey in Canterbury. He was considered a saint from shortly after his death. Bede tells us that Mellitus suffered from gout, and gout sufferers used to be brought to his shrine looking for a cure.

Isabella's Reforms

Queen Isabella of Castile had a reputation for harshness when it came to crime and corruption. A Spanish writer and contemporary, Hernando del Pulgar (1436 - 1492), who became a councillor under Isabella, wrote a series of profiles of political figures and said of her:

She was very inclined to justice, so much so that she was reputed to follow more the path of rigor than that of mercy, and did so to remedy the great corruption of crimes that she found in the kingdom when she succeeded to the throne.*

Her predecessor, her half-brother Henry, was not a careful ruler: big on spending money, not big on maintaining the rule of law (hence the attempts by the nobles to dethrone him, using Isabella as their focus). Isabella had to get tough to restore order to Castile.

Her first reform was to co-opt La Santa Hermandad [The Holy Brotherhood]. The Brotherhood was a  feature of medieval Castile in which local armed men formed vigilante groups to maintain order in the communities. Isabella developed the Brotherhood into a local police force for each territory. They were paid by a new tax. The province of Galicia, known for highway robbery, had 1500 robbers driven out by a special force she sent with the task of cleaning up the area.

She also needed to restore the financial health of the country after Henry's excesses. Henry raised quick cash by selling property at low prices. The decision was made to purchase them back at the same low prices. Estates that Henry gave to others as gifts were taken back without remuneration. Some nobles who wished to regain the property could do so by paying a sum worthy of the property; this helped fill the treasury. She also reduced the number of mints making coins, which reduced rampant inflation.

Her final change was in the area of royal engagement. Isabella and Ferdinand spent some time each Friday allowing citizens to come to them with complaints. This was a form of contact with royalty and royal concern for the constituency previously unknown in Castile.

The year 1492 is, however, the year of events for which history usually thinks of her. Schoolchildren know her for her support of Columbus, and others condemn her for the Alhambra Decree, but she was the best ruler her country had seen in awhile.

*Pulgar, Crónica de los Reyes Católicos, trans. in David A. Boruchoff, "Historiography with License: Isabel, the Catholic Monarch, and the Kingdom of God," Isabel la Católica, Queen of Castile: Critical Essays (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003), p. 242.

England's Best Hidden Treasure

First page of the Textus Roffensis.
The water damage is from the early 1700s.

The Textus de Ecclesia Roffensi per Ernulphum episcopum ["The Book of the Church of Rochester through Bishop Ernulf"] has been voted England's Best Hidden Treasure by the British Library. It can currently be found in the Medway Studies Centre in Rochester, England, and online. It is 235 vellum leaves from two manuscripts written in the early 1120s, mostly by a single scribe.

What makes it so special? The subject matter, partly. The first manuscript that comprises the Textus Roffensis is is a copy of the laws during the reign of Æthelbert. By creating this record, we have the earliest known example of an (Old) English document,* since the laws of Æthelbert were assembled by 604. And the English is rare: most Anglo-Saxon documents are in the dominant West Saxon dialect, but the Textus is in the Jutish dialect of Anglo-Saxon.

Æthelbert's laws were referenced by Alfred the Great when he created his own laws, and were mentioned by Bede. The Textus was clearly only one of a number of manuscripts that existed to carry these laws to others.

The Textus also has laws from Æthelbert's successors. Wihtred of Kent (reigned c.690 - 725), who died on 23 April 725, created many laws that gave rights to the Church. For example, the Church was free from taxation, and a bishop's word was considered as good as a king's oath.

One of the reasons the Textus Roffensis is prized by English historians is that its attempt to bring together several of the laws of kings in one document:

represents a new self-conscious attempt at recording an English heritage, after the Norman Conquest. The incomers needed an effective guide to the law of King Edward (i.e. King Edward the Confessor) as the Conqueror and King Henry his son promised to observe it; incomer and native alike needed all the resources of the book to preserve their ancient rights and recent acquisitions. [source]

Compiled as it was in the 1120s, the Textus Roffensis is seen as a reminder to the Norman rulers of what rights and privileges were held prior to the Norman Invasion that they were promised would be respected.

*Technically, it also qualifies as the earliest example of a Germanic language document, so no other German-language records exist from the early 7th century.

Isabella of Castile

Wedding portrait of Isabella and Ferdinand (1469)

Everyone knows about Isabella of Castile and how she financed Columbus' excursion to discover a new route to Asia. Recent posts on this blog have revealed her anti-semitism. There was a long road, however, before she reached the events of 1492.

She was born on 22 April 1451, and there was never any speculation that she might one day rule Castile. She had an older half-brother, Henry, who was 26 when Isabella was born. When Henry succeeded their father (John II of Castile) in 1454, Isabella and a younger brother, Alfonso, were sent with their mother to live in a run-down castle in another region, away from the capital. Despite the simple accommodations, Isabella was raised by her mother to be educated and devout. In 1462, Isabella and Alfonso were brought back to the royal palace in Segovia. Isabella was put in the queen's household where her education became more extensive.

When Alfonso died in 1468 (probably from plague), Isabella inherited his possessions. Castilian nobles wanted to use Isabella as a fiscal point to dethrone Henry, but Isabella wasn't having it. She negotiated a settlement with Henry: she would not become a threat to his throne, he would name her heir-presumptive. Moreover, he would not force her into a political marriage of which she did not approve, but she would not marry without his consent.

Years earlier, at the age of 6, she had been betrothed to Ferdinand, son of the king of Navarre. Ferdinand's father and Isabella's brother were trying to make a firm alliance between their two countries, but their relationship did not last. Years later, however, after numerous other potential betrothals in which Isabella invoked her old agreement to avoid a forced marriage, she contacted Ferdinand secretly and expressed her wish to marry him.

There was a problem with consanguinity, the two being second cousins, but a papal bull from Pius II—thanks to the efforts of Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia (later Pope Alexander VI)—gave them a dispensation. Isabella, on the pretense of visiting her brother's tomb, left Henry's court. Meanwhile, Ferdinand crossed into Castile while in disguise. The two met up at the town of Valladolid.* Having successfully outmaneuvered her brother, the pair were wed on 19 October 1469. Isabella was 18, Ferdinand was 17.

*They later made valladolid their capital city. Christopher Columbus died there.

The Lisbon Massacre

A memorial in Lisbon*

We touched on the Lisbon Massacre, in which between 1000 and 2000 (and maybe more) Jews were slaughtered, in the post on Crypto-Jews. Here is a little more detail.

To be precise, no "Jews" were slaughtered in Lisbon; technically, they were all "New Christians," Jews who had grudgingly converted years earlier, rather than be expelled from their home. Portugal in 1506 was in dire straits for everyone, however, because drought had brought famine; also, a plague was sweeping through. The people gathered to pray for deliverance from these problems.

History tells us that one of the devout, while praying at the Saint Domingo of Lisbon Convent on 19 April 1506, said he saw the face of Christ appear on the altar. This miraculous manifestation was taken as a sign that better times were coming. One parishioner who was present, however, said it was probably just a trick of reflection. This second opinion came from a New Christian. The devout Christians around him objected to this mundane interpretation, and they dragged him outside and beat him to death.

Suddenly, blaming New Christians for their troubles seemed like a good idea. It was reinforced by Dominican friars—by now the Dominicans were thoroughly entwined with the papal inquisition—who preached forgiveness of all sins for the previous 100 days to whomever killed heretics. The result was about 500 deaths that day. New Christians hid in their homes, but by Monday the fervor of the crowd could not be stopped. They dragged New Christians from their homes and burned in public. By Tuesday the number of victims had approached 2000.

King Manuel had been out of Lisbon, avoiding the plague. When he learned of the slaughter, he sent emissaries to stop it. Major malefactors were tried and had their possessions confiscated; some were executed. The two Dominicans were defrocked and burned at the stake, meeting the same fate that they had just meted out to hundreds of others.


*The inscription reads: “In memory of the thousands of Jews victims of intolerance and religious fanaticism, murdered in the massacre started on this square on the 19th of April 1506.”

Medieval Cannabis

Cannabis sativa from the 6th-century
De Materia Medica of Dioscorides

I was contemplating a post about Easter, which takes place this Sunday. Since Easter takes place on the date 4/20, however, and since "4/20" is a counter-culture reference for smoking marijuana, I started wondering about the use of marijuana in history, specifically (of course) in the Middle Ages.

One website tells us that:

... cannabis use was reintroduced into Europe after the Dark Ages, when the Knights Templar, founded by Hugh de Payns (“of the Pagans”) around the beginning of the twelfth century, became involved in a trade of goods and knowledge with the hashish ingesting Isma’ilis. [Source]

Another explains its uses:

In the Middle Ages cannabis was used for its psychoactive effects as well as commercially. Its use as a mind-altering drug was widespread in Egypt and seems to date from around the 13th century. In medieval Europe cannabis appears to have been employed as a folk medicine, particularly for the treatment of toothache and rheumatism, and in childbirth. [Source]

Dioscorides in his De Materia Medica [Concerning Medical Materials] describes and illustrates cannabis sativa:

Kannabis; is a plant of much use in this life for the twisting of very strong ropes, it has leaves like to the Ash, of a bad scent, long stalks, empty, a round seed, which being eaten of reduces sexual activity, but being juiced when it is green is good for the pains of the ears. [Book III]

Here we recognize the lethargy that accompanies cannabis use.

Use of the plant for its fibers seems to have been very important to the Medieval and Renaissance eras. Henry VIII decreed in 1533 that "for every sixty acres of arable land a farmer owned, a quarter acre was to be sown with hemp." (Henry wanted to make sure he had plenty of source material for the rope that was vital to a strong naval effort.) A BBC report in 2001 presented the claim that pipes dug up in the backyard of Shakespeare's Stratford home had the remains of burned cannabis seeds. The investigation was in response to a reading of Sonnet 76 which mentions "invention in a noted weed." (Note: the pipes could not be traced definitively to Shakespeare's time at that address.)

Knowledge of cannabis was certainly available to the Middle Ages, but there is no evidence that it was used in a manner similar to its contemporary recreational use.

Public Reading

When April, with her showers sweet,
The drought of March has pierced to the roots...

A poster for sale of Chaucer reading

On this day in 1397, Geoffrey Chaucer gave a public reading of his Tales of Canterbury at the court of Richard II. We don't know exactly what he read—it isn't likely that they sat through the hours it would take to read everything, even though the Canterbury Tales are far from complete. The wager the pilgrims make is that each one would tell two tales going to Canterbury and two on the return journey; their host would pick the best one and treat them all to a feast. Given this plan, and the number of pilgrims (which changes along the way), we would expect at least 120 tales.* We only have about 30, with no evidence that there are "lost manuscripts" anywhere containing more work. (Chaucer was a busy public servant, and probably didn't have much time for writing.)

King Richard was a great supporter of poetry, and public readings were not uncommon. In a world without television, radio, movie theaters, or even plays, public entertainment came from song, dance, or the written word. Readings at court of new poetry were a popular affair.

Monasteries favored public reading as well. The Rule of St. Benedict mandated readings during meals, both to discourage idle chatter and to educate monks. Hearing a text read was supposed to be as educational as reading it yourself: the listener was "reading" with his ears and experiencing the same words, and therefore "knew" what was read as well as the person whose eyes were actually on the page. At universities like Oxford and Cambridge, students attended lectures that could last for hours, but they were not supposed to take notes. Listening and thinking was supposed to be sufficient for learning. When books became inexpensive to print and "everyone" could have a copy of the text to study and read, I think this "active listening" skill gradually lost importance.

*I think Chaucer wanted to "beat" Boccaccio's Decameron, with its ten people each telling a new tale each day for ten days.

Anglo-Saxon Riddles

As best we can determine, Symposius was a 4th- or 5th-century author of the Ænigmata, a collection of 100 Latin riddles. The oldest known collection of riddles, they have influenced other riddle-makers through the ages, such as Aldhelm.

Why are we talking about Latin riddles in a post titled "Anglo-Saxon Riddles"? Because without Symposius we might have a more difficult time guessing at some of the Riddles of the Exeter Book. Consider Exeter Book Riddle #61:

#61
A creature came     where many men
sat at council     with wise hearts.
It had one eye     and its ears were two;
it had two feet     and twelve hundred heads,
a back and a belly     and two hands,
arms and shoulders,     one neck,
and two sides.     Say what I’m called.

This might have been more difficult if we did not have Symposius' example #94:

#XCIV
Cernere iam fas est, quod vix tibi credere fas est;
Unus inest oculus, capitum sed milia multa;
Quidquid habet vendit, quod non habet unde parabit?

Now may you see, though not believe, I fear,
One eye and many thousand heads are here,
Whate'er he has, he sells. Whence comes what don't appear?

The answer is the same for both, and I will give it to you in footnotes, along with the answers to the rest. Enjoy.

#18
My garment is darkish.     Bright decorations,
red and radiant,     I have on my raiment.
I mislead the stupid     and stimulate the foolish
toward unwise ways.     Others I restrain
from profitable paths.     But I know not at all
that they, maddened,     robbed of their senses,
astray in their actions     —that they praise to all men
my wicked ways.     Woe to them then
when the Most High holds out     his dearest of gifts
if they do not desist     first from their folly.

#57
I war oft against wave     and fight against wind,
do battle with both,     when I reach to the ground,
covered by the waters.     The land is strange to me.
I am strong in the strife     if I stay at rest.
If I fail at that,     they are stronger than I
and forthwith they wrench me     and put me to rout.
They would carry away     what I ought to defend.
I withstand them then     if my tail endures
and the stones hold me fast.     Ask what my name is. 

#31
I saw a thing     in the dwellings of men
that feeds the cattle;     has many teeth.
The beak is useful to it;     it goes downwards,
ravages faithfully;     pulls homewards;
hunts along walls;     reaches for roots.
Always it finds them,     those which are not fast;
lets them, the beautiful,     when they are fast,
stand in quiet     in their proper places,
brightly shining,     growing, blooming.

*Symposius #94 and Exeter #61: a one-eyed garlic seller
Exeter #18: wine
#57: anchor
#31: rake

Source for Symposius
Source for Exeter riddles

The Other Three Books

The Vercelli Book, opened to "The Dream of the Rood"

The post on The Exeter Book mentioned that it was one of four sources of Anglo-Saxon literature. So what about the other three? One of them, the Nowell Codex, has been mentioned before—but you won't find it in this blog under that name.

The Nowell Codex is named for Laurence Nowell (c.1515 - 1571), who was an antiquarian and early scholar of Anglo-Saxon literature. Where he found the Codex is unknown, but he wrote his name on it. Later it passed into the hands of Sir Robert Cotton (c.1570 - 1631) and became part of the Cotton Library. There it was catalogued on a shelf under a bust of the Emperor Vitellius, which is why we know it as Cotton Vitellius A.xv. It contains the only copy in existence of the epic poem Beowulf.

Another important source of Anglo-Saxon literature is the Vercelli Book. The Vercelli is the oldest manuscript, dating to the late tenth century. Written with very precise penmanship (no doubt by a monk), it contains a collection of religious texts. It sits in the library of Vercelli in northern Italy; Vercelli was a likely stop for pilgrims traveling to Rome and beyond, and its presence there is presumed to have been intended for the use of Anglo-Saxon pilgrims.

Finally, the Cædmon Manuscript is called that because it is presumed (hoped? fantasized?) to have been produced by Cædmon, a man whom legend says went from illiterate monk to brilliant poet after praying for inspiration. (It is more seriously referred to—by scholars who prefer accuracy over legend—as the Junius Manuscript, after Franciscus Junius who first published it in 1655.) It contains religious works which have been named—based on their contents; none of the writings mentioned here have titles—Genesis, Exodus, Daniel, and Christ and Satan.

Each of these deserves its own time in the spotlight, but they will have to wait for another day.

The Exeter Book

"The Wanderer" in the Exeter Book

The Exeter Book was mentioned as the source of two poems about St. Guthlac. It holds much more than that, however. Of the four manuscripts we have of Anglo-Saxon literature, the Exeter Book is the largest collection in existence of Anglo-Saxon poetry, including all the Anglo-Saxon riddles we have (but one), and several poems that survive nowhere else.

The original date of composition is unknown, but it is assumed to have been produced as part of the Benedictine revival in the 10th century, when Benedictine monasteries strove to record and preserve manuscripts of all kinds.

Its existence can reliably be traced to the will of Bishop Leofric (1016 - 1072), who left it to the library of Exeter Cathedral in 1072 along with the rest of his impressive (for the time) collection. Exeter was one of the largest scriptoria in Leofric's lifetime, where manuscripts were created and copied, so it is surprising that this particular manuscript seems to have been so abused.

Several pages at the beginning are believed missing along with the cover. Several pages are scored as if the book was used as a cutting board. One reader of the book clearly set his drink down on the page, leaving a stain, and several pages at the end of the book show burn marks.

The Book contains religious texts; not just the aforementioned Guthlac A and B, but also poems on Christ, Judgment Day, Soul and Body, and The Lord's Prayer. It also has examples of Anglo-Saxon culture in poems such as "The Wanderer," "The Seafarer," "Deor," and "The Wife's Lament." As well it contains over 90 riddles whose answers are usually mundane things, but some of which engage in double entendres, such as the following, whose answer is dough:

I have heard of a something-or-other, growing in its nook, swelling and rising, pushing up its covering. Upon that boneless thing a cocky-minded young woman took a grip with her hands; with her apron a lord's daughter covered the tumescent thing.

Haunted by Demons

Want to own a speaker that plugs into your laptop
and depicts the ordination of Guthlac? You can!

Today is the feast day of an English saint, Guthlac of Crowland (673 - 714). Like many saints of his time, he was born into a noble family and chose a religious life either out of piety or because he was a younger son who was not in line to inherit much (and he needed some means of support that did not involve starting his own farm). His sister, Pega, is also considered a saint.

Although he fought under Æthelred of Mercia, by the age of 24 he was a monk at Repton Monastery in Derbyshire. By the age of 26, he had decided to become a hermit and went to live on an island called Croyland, which is now no longer an island and is called Crowland. The Vita Sancti Guthlaci ["Life of Saint Guthlac"] written by Felix in the 8th century tells us:

Now there was in the said island a mound built of clods of earth which greedy comers to the waste had dug open, in the hope of finding treasure there; in the side of this there seemed to be a sort of cistern, and in this Guthlac the man of blessed memory began to dwell, after building a hut over it. From the time when he first inhabited this hermitage this was his unalterable rule of life: namely to wear neither wool nor linen garments nor any other sort of soft material, but he spent the whole of his solitary life wearing garments made of skins. So great indeed was the abstinence of his daily life that from the time when he began to inhabit the desert he ate no food of any kind except that after sunset he took a scrap of barley bread and a small cup of muddy water.

 Life was not that simple, however, because his time there was spent being assailed by demons:

They were ferocious in appearance, terrible in shape with great heads, long necks, thin faces, yellow complexions, filthy beards, shaggy ears, wild foreheads, fierce eyes, foul mouths, horses' teeth, throats vomiting flames, twisted jaws, thick lips, strident voices, singed hair, fat cheeks, pigeons breasts, scabby thighs, knotty knees, crooked legs, swollen ankles, splay feet, spreading mouths, raucous cries. For they grew so terrible to hear with their mighty shriekings that they filled almost the whole intervening space between earth and heaven with their discordant bellowings.

Interestingly, Guthlac (Felix tells us) could actually understand the demonic speech, described as strimulentes loquelas ["sibilant speech"].* The reason he was able to understand it? Because of his time spent among the British-speaking natives of the island of Britain who had been displaced by the incoming Anglo-Saxons. (One wonders if the wind whistling through his rough-constructed living space made noises that imagination told him were words of temptation.)

Guthlac was a very popular figure in British history. The oldest surviving collection of Anglo-Saxon poetry, the Exeter Book, contains two poems, called Guthlac A and Guthlac B; B is based on the Vita, but A comes from some other source. A collection of illustrations of events in Guthlac's life was created after the Norman Conquest and put into the Orderic Vitalis. Today, a Guthlac Fellowship unites the several churches and parishes dedicated to Guthlac.

*Reminds me of Parseltongue from the works of J.K.Rowling.

Halley's Comet

Halley's Comet on the Bayeaux Tapestry

The nice thing about astronomy is that some celestial events are so predictably cyclical that they can help confirm dates in history, or be spotted in the historical record. Halley's Comet has appeared numerous times while human beings have been on Earth, and many of those appearances have been noted by record-keepers.

BCE records suggest Halley's was spotted as early as 467 BCE by the Greeks and the Chinese, but the first report detailed enough to be certain of Halley's pattern was in 240 BCE by a Chinese chronicle.

The 1493 Nuremberg Chronicles used many early sources, one of which mentioned the comet appearing over Europe in 684. The 837 approach—recorded by astronomers in Germany as well as across the Middle East and Asia—was the closest the comet ever came to earth: a mere 3.2 million miles away, and took place on 10 April. The Annals of Ulster—an Irish chronicle extending from 431 to 1540 CE—says of 912 "A dark and rainy year. A comet appeared."

1066 saw the appearance of an invading Norman army in England and the appearance of the comet in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, in the Irish Annals of the Four Masters, and later in the Bayeaux Tapestry.

Drawing and note from Eadwine Psalter

The Bayeaux Tapestry wasn't the only attempt to record visually what they saw in the sky. The 1145 appearance was drawn up by a monk, Eadwine, who was copying a psalter at Canterbury Cathedral. On the bottom of the page with the Fifth Psalm, Eadwine added a drawing and a note: “Concerning the star ‘comet’. The star ‘comet’ has a ray such as this, and in English it is called the long-haired star.* It appears rarely during the course of many years, and then as a portent.”

The next appearance of Halley's is scheduled for 28 July 2061.

*comet is from Greek and means "hair" or "long hair."

Resisting the Huns!

A representation of the Battle of the Catalaunian Fields

We mentioned here that the Huns under Bleda and Attila negotiated a treaty with the Eastern Roman Empire. In 450, as sole ruler of the Huns after his brother Bleda's death, Attila put the Western Roman Empire in his sights. The Western Emperor's (Valentinian III) sister, Honoria, sent a message to Attila requesting help; she was betrothed to a senator named Herculanus who kept her confined.

Attila considered Honoria's request for help as an offer of marriage, and thought her dowry should include half the Empire. Emperor Valentinian made it clear that Attila was misunderstanding the situation completely. Attila reacted as one might expect: he invaded Gaul in 451, attacking the town of Metz on 7 April and reaching Orleans (then called Aurelianum) in June.

The general of the Western Roman forces, Flavius Aetius, left Italy for Gaul to counter the Huns. With support from the Visigoths, he reached Aurelianum on 14 June just as Attila had breached the city, chasing him off. (Attila was already in the city, but to remain when news came of an approaching army meant the chance they would be surrounded and besieged themselves.) The combined Roman and Visigothic forces caught up with the Huns on 20 June in the Catalaunian Fields (true location unknown, but presumed to be Chalons in the Champagne region).

We are told by Jordanes that Attila, according to Hunnic custom, had a bird killed and its entrails examined to determine how the battle would go. The prediction was defeat for the Huns but death for an enemy commander. Theodoric, at the head of the Visigoths, was killed. When his son wanted to avenge him, Flavius convinced him to go home and secure the throne. As the Visigoths withdrew from the battlefield, Attila thought it was a ruse to lure him into a trap, so he withdrew the Hunnic troops and abandoned the battle.

Some historians have seen the Battle of the Catalaunian Fields as a pivotal moment when the Huns were prevented from taking over Western Europe. But Attila was not opposed to continue his assault on the Empire. The following year he approached Rome with the goal of claiming Honoria after all. Pope Leo I met him at the edge of Rome, and Attila turned away. When Attila died a year or so later, the Huns became less of a threat to Europe.