Wheel of Fortune

A 12th-century depiction of the Wheel of Fortune
from the "Garden of Delights" book by Herrad of Landsberg

The Wheel of Fortune is a familiar concept to many these days because of a popular game show, but the name and idea originated a lot earlier than the 20th century.

Human beings recognized long ago that luck was a dish served in one of two flavors, and that one never knew what flavor one was going to get. Life had its ups and downs, and this became represented as a circle of possibilities. This was similar to the wheel of the Zodiac, turning throughout the year and bringing with it changes in life. At some point, however, the Wheel of Fortune (in Latin, the Rota Fortunæ) began to be represented in a Ferris Wheel configuration, so that the "ups" and "downs" could be portrayed visually.

At the top of the wheel is a man at the peak of good fortune: he is portrayed as a king. The wheel turns constantly, however—Boethius points out in his Consolation of Philosophy that, should the wheel stop turning, then she is no longer Fortune: this changeability is fundamental to what she does. Therefore (in this clockwise-turning representation), on the right side you see the one who was formerly on top, sliding down; near the bottom, his crown has fallen off. All is not dire, however, for on the left you see that fortune is turning better for someone else, who is ascending and will some day be on top.

The concept existed before Boethius. An astrologer of the 2nd century BCE, Vettius Valens, refers to the Zodiac as the wheel of fortunes, and a Roman playwright of the same era, Pacuvius, puts Fortuna on a spherical rock that constantly rolls by chance. Chaucer also mentions Fortune's wheel when, in "The Monk's Tale," he recounts multiple stories of men whose fortunes went from good to bad.

Boethius

Boethius (left, with numbers from India)
debating Pythagoras (right, with an abacus)
while Arithmetic looks on

Boethius has been mentioned in passing before for his writing. An early philosopher whose works were very important to the Middle Ages, in life he was an important public servant from a noble family who rose very high before he fell.

Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius was born about 480 to a prominent family that had produced a couple emperors; his father became a Roman consul in 487 but died shortly thereafter, leaving Boethius to be adopted by the aristocrat and historian Symmachus. Symmachus and Boethius were fluent in Greek, which might have figured into their execution—but we are getting ahead of ourselves.

Boethius went to work for Theodoric the Great, and some of his actions on behalf of the King of the Ostrogoths have survived in the records.

• Procuring or producing a waterclock for Theodoric to give to Gundabad of the Burgundians.
• Finding a lyre player to perform for King Clovis.
• Investigating irregularities in Theodoric's paymaster.

In his famous work De consolatione philosophiæ ["The Consolation of Philosophy"], which he wrote in prison, he says that his greatest accomplishment was getting his sons, Boethius and Symmachus, appointed co-consuls in 522.

Boethius did so well in his career that he was made magister officiorum ["master of duties"], responsible for overseeing all government services. That's probably where the trouble started. Kings and emperors can be mistrustful of those around them with too much power—even if the emperor gave him the power in the first place. Boethius was put in charge of reconciling the differences that had grown up between the Western Roman and Eastern Byzantine Empires. His political powers and education and ability to speak Greek (rare in the West) made him ideally suited for this. He was accused (falsely) of treasonous dealings with the Eastern Emperor Justin I against Theodoric. For this he was exiled, then executed. His adoptive father Symmachus was later put to death on the charge of collusion with Boethius to overthrow Theodoric—a charge which seems unlikely.

He was executed in 525, but his writings survived. He wrote many books, including translations of Aristotle's works on logic; Boethius' translations were the only access to Aristotle's logic available to western Europe until the 12th century. He also produced De arithmetica on the four uses of arithmetic: arithmetic, geometry, music, and astronomy.*

The Consolation of Philosophy is believed to have been written while he was in exile. It covers many topics, one of which gave the modern era the title of one of its most popular game shows. But that's a story for tomorrow.

*These are the four parts of the quadrivium, taught in medieval universities; it is likely that the curriculum was arranged thus because of Boethius.

Crisis in Portugal

Ferdinand I, son of Pedro the Cruel

Inheritance is never more complicated than when a throne is involved. The stakes are too high for anyone to let slip by the chance that he can convince the world that he should rule the country involved. When Peter I of Castile (who ruled both Castile and Portugal) died in 1369, it seemed natural that his eldest surviving son, the 24-year-old Ferdinand I, would inherit the throne.

Except that Peter did not have the Castilian throne to pass along. His illegitimate half-brother, Henry of Trastámara, had taken it in 1369 after defeating Peter in the (First) Castilian Civil War. Wanting to oust Peter wasn't a big surprise to much of Europe, since at the time he was more commonly known as "Pedro the Cruel" because of a ruthless administrative style that did not sit well with the aristocracy. Henry had the support of the papacy as well as France and Aragon. France was happy to get involved on the side opposing Peter because of the larger global issues: France was still in the Hundred Years War with England, and England's John of Gaunt (son of King Edward III) was married to Peter's daughter Constance.

Ferdinand was now King of Portugal, but he wanted Castile as well.

Just because Henry sat the throne, however, did not mean his legitimacy was incontrovertible. (He had a son who was not yet a teenager.) Upon Peter's death, King Peter IV of Aragon and King Charles II ("the Bad") of Navarre put forth claims to Castile, as did Peter I's son-in-law, John of Gaunt. (John would have liked a kingdom of his own, since the assumption was that England would go to his older brother, Edward the Black Prince).

Military engagements followed. In order to avoid an unending conflict, all parties appealed to the pope. Pope Gregory IX got everyone to accept a treaty in 1371, agreeing that Peter's son Ferdinand would ascend the throne and would marry Leonora of Castile, Henry's daughter. This would link the thrones of Portugal and Castile by marriage, and everyone would be satisfied.

The next difficulty was created by Ferdinand himself. Although he accepted the treaty, he fell in love with someone else: Leonor Telles de Meneses, the wife of one of his courtiers! He managed to get her forcibly divorced from her husband so that Ferdinand could marry her.

With Henry's daughter spurned, he had no incentive to allow Ferdinand to become king in Henry's place. John of Gaunt plotted with Ferdinand to remove Henry from Castile, and brought an English army to help—to no avail, however, and a treaty in 1373 calmed everyone down again.

Henry died in 1379, and John of Gaunt once again made a claim for the throne. Ferdinand, however, made his own treaty without English help. If Ferdinand's daughter Beatrice were to marry Henry's son John, then the two kingdoms could be joined by marriage to everyone's satisfaction.

When Ferdinand died on 22 October 1383, he left no male heir. Beatrice's marriage to John would have taken care of Castile, but what of Portugal? The treaty was tossed away—popular sentiment was that Portugal would be annexed by Castile; Portugal needed its own king, not that of Castile!—and Ferdinand's illegitimate brother John claimed the throne, sparking a two-year period of war and political uncertainty with the French helping John of Castile and the English helping John of Portugal. When the dust settled, Portugal had gained control of many towns that were originally Castilian, and the two kingdoms were ruled separately.

In 1387, John I of Portugal married Philippa of Lancaster, daughter of John of Gaunt. The alliance between Portugal and England was and remains very strong.

The Bohemians

Bohemia, the home of Wenceslaus and where Jan Hus found support, was named from a Roman account. The names of both Bohemia and its neighbor Bavaria are based on their connection to the Celtic Boii tribe. The Roman historian Tacitus referred to the area where the tribe lived as Boiohæmum, based on the tribal name Boi- and the Germanic haimaz ["home"; whence comes the German suffix -heim and English home].*

That is not, however, the origin that the Middle Ages believed. According to the Chronica Boëmorum [Chronicle of Bohemians"] by Cosmas of Prague, the Bohemians originally lived harmoniously, without alcohol or marriage, private property or weapons. Eventually, however, evil arose, and they needed someone to lead them out of their iniquity.

Out of this growing chaos came Krok; Cosmas says Krok was

a man known for his age, absolutely perfect, rich and worldly in his judgements, and sophisticated. This wonderful man had no male heirs, but rather three daughters, whom nature had granted the treasures of wisdom.

That is all Cosmas says about the legendary Duke Krok, although he does tell stories about his three daughters: Libuše, Kazi, and Teti—especially Libuše, the youngest and wisest (possibly the wisdom was inherited from her equally legendary Elven mother). Libuše foretold the city of Prague, and married a ploughman named Premysl, with whom she founded the Premyslid Dynasty (ruling Bohemia from the 9th century to 1306). A film was made about Libuše in 2009.

To Cosmas, writing in the early 12th century, the story of the founding of Bohemia needed one more element: an explanation for the name. He therefore mentions Duke Krok's companion, Duke Bohemus, whose name was given to the country.

...and that was the first and last mention of Bohemus made in chronicles. Once his name was produced to explain the name of the country, he was not needed ever again.

*I am resisting the temptation to call the Bohemians "Home-Bois."

The Battle of Assandun

Edmund Ironside meets King Canute (Matthew Paris)

Fifty years before the Norman Invasion changed the culture of Britain, the island (or parts of it) changed hands, from the English to the Danes. The Battle of Assandun, on 18 October 1016, was the last phase of the Danes' attempt to re-take Britain.

It was a signifiant enough event that accounts made it into several chronicles. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle goes into great detail:

A.D. 1016.  This year came King Knute with a marine force of one hundred and sixty ships, and Alderman Edric with him, over the Thames into Mercia at Cricklade; whence they proceeded to Warwickshire, during the middle of the winter, and plundered therein, and burned, and slew all they met.

Edmund Ironside was king; his son, Edmund Ætheling, tried to gather an army, but not everyone answered the call.

Then began Edmund the etheling to gather an army, which, when it was collected, could avail him nothing, unless the king were there and they had the assistance of the citizens of London.  The expedition therefore was frustrated, and each man betook himself home.

Eventually an army was assembled, but ultimately Cnut won. Edmund Ironside was forced to sign a treaty agreeing that Cnut would control all of England except Wessex, and that whichever died first would cede all his territory to the other, the survivor's son becoming the heir to all England.

Mere weeks after signing the treaty, Edmund Ironside died on 30 November 1016. Cnut became king of all England, which he ruled for the following 20 years.

The Destruction of Basel

Late medieval woodcut representing destruction in Basel

Earthquakes have been in the news lately, but one of the biggest earthquakes known happened in the Middle Ages. It is called the Great Basel Earthquake, and sometimes the Earthquake of Saint Luke, because it fell in his feast day.

On the evening of 18 October 1386, an earthquake took place whose force is estimated at 6.0-7.1.* It was one of the largest of the approximately 10,000 earthquakes detected in Switzerland in the last 800 years. Based on the accounts, a rumble occurred about 8:00pm, with the major quake striking at 10:00pm.

Although it is impossible to determine now what the epicenter was, Basel suffered the greatest destruction (possible by virtue of being the largest set of structures affected by the earthquake). Basel was completely destroyed, as were any churches, castles, and towers within a 30-kilometer radius. Further damage was done to town buildings due to the fire caused by torches and candles being knocked over. Tremors were felt as far away as Zurich and the Île-de-France (272 miles away!). No building in Basel survived, according to reports.

Considering the size of the earthquake, and the timing, you would expect casualties in the thousands. While estimates vary, an estimate by a modern risk management firm is 300 deaths in Basel.

*On the Moment Scale, which has replaced the Richter Scale.

The Tolerant Khan

There were many Khans in the Mongol Empire, but none quite like Tëmur. Tëmur was a grandson of Kublai Khan, born on 15 October, 1265; his father was crown prince, but died before Kublai, and when Kublai died in February 1294, the choice to succeed him was between Tëmur and his brother Gammala. A competition was held between them to see which one knew better the sayings of Genghis Khan; Tëmur won.

Over the next 13 years, Tëmur continued the policies and economic reforms of his grandfather. His personal accomplishments were few, and mostly in the realm of cultural diversity and tolerance. A Mongol and a follower of Buddhism, he expanded the presence of various other religions and ethnic groups in his administration.

Besides Mongols and Han Chinese, he had Muslims and a few Christians working for him. He declared that Confucians were to be respected; he hired a Confucian, Hargashun, as grand chancellor. He increased the number of Tibetans in the administration, and a Tibetan even married into his family. Kublai had been anti-Taoist, but Tëmur appointed a Taoist as head of his Orthodox Unity School.

He also relaxed the burden of taxes on his subjects, and gave exemptions for taxes several times. Mongol commoners, for instance, were at one point given two years free from paying taxes to the crown. (Unfortunately, this largesse would have a bad effect on the economy, since the loss of revenue weakened the paper currency.)

Everything passes, however. Tëmur Khan died on 10 February 1307.

The Cadaver Synod

Popes Formosus & Stephen VII, by Jean Paul Laurens, 1870

The Synod of Whitby was just mentioned a few days ago, and right now in 2014 there is a Vatican-called Synod going on. A synod, from Greek syn ["with"] and (h)odos ["way"], is an assembly of clergy (and sometimes laity, as in the present case) to discuss particular issues.

The synod was called by Pope Stephen VII. He had been advanced in his religious career by a previous pope, Formosus (c.816 - 4 April 896). Pope Formosus was pope for about five years, during which he made a few questionable political moves, like getting involved in the conflict between Charles the Simple and Odo over the French crown and clashing with Holy Roman Emperor Guy III of Spoleto.

After Formosus died, he was succeeded by Boniface VI, who lasted a matter of weeks and was succeeded in May 896 by Stephen VII, who called the Cadaver Synod. The cadaver was Pope Formosus, who was put on trial. How do you put a dead person on trial? You dig him up and put him in a chair at the synod. Since he was a pope, however, you put him in the proper vestments, giving a new twist on "respecting the dead."

It was decided at the synod that he had been unworthy of the papacy due to his actions. All his decrees and decisions were declared null and void. To make the symbolism complete, they ripped off his papal garb, cut off the three fingers of his right hand that had held the consecrated Host, and threw the body into the river.

The Battle of Senlac Hill

Best guess arrangement of opposing troops

The Battle of Hastings gets remembered on 14 October; that's when the forces of William of Normandy defeated the (already exhausted) forces of Harold Godwinsson at Hastings. Except it isn't...at Hastings, that is. It was fought at Senlac Hill, or Senlac Ridge, several miles from the town of Hastings. The name is the shortened form of the Norman Sanguelac ["Blood Lake"], which was their post-Conquest pun on the original name of Sandlacu ["sandy lake"]; there is a stream that crosses the fields below the hill. In fact, the site now has a town called (almost predictably) Battle, and Battle Abbey, which was built to commemorate the Norman victory. The Domesday Book commissioned in 1085 referred to it as bellum Hasestingas ["Battle of Hastings"], and yet the battle was being referred to as Senlac in other chronicles.

Harold managed to reach Senlac and array his troops on the high ground, giving them a tactical advantage over the Normans below. William's forces, however, fought bravely—first with archers, then with spears—and then an accidental retreat drew the English off the high ground in pursuit, whereupon the Normans turned around and continued the fight.

There were not many details written down about the battle, but we can make some assumptions. Fighting would have to take place in daylight, so a charge could not start much earlier than the 6:48am sunrise would allow. Also, sunset was at 4:54pm, and it would have been fully dark on the battlefield by 5:54pm. The moon did not rise until hours later, and so principal fighting would not have extended much past sunset. It only needed a day, however, to change the course of English history.

Hilda of Whitby

The Synod of Whitby is a familiar name to fans of medieval history (and this blog). What is not widely known is that it was first managed by a woman, Hilda of Whitby.

Hilda (c.614 - 680) was born to Hereric, a nephew of King Edwin of Northumbria. Her father was poisoned while Hilda was very young, and she was raised at King Edwin's court, where she was exposed to the preaching of St. Paulinus of York. King Edwin's entire court, including Hilda, was baptized on Easter (12 April) 627. Hilda's sister, Hereswith, became a nun at Chelles Abbey, and Hilda followed her example by taking up the monastic life.

She eventually wound up taking on the management of a monastery at a coastal town called Streaneshalch in 657, which had just been founded by Oswy of Bernicia as an act of thanksgiving. Years later, the Danes would name the place Whitby (Old Norse for "white settlement").

The monastery at Whitby—which included both men and women—became famous for its learning. This was the home of Cædmon, the illiterate shepherd turned poet; Hilda allowed him to take monastic vows and encouraged him in his poetry. Her wisdom and administrative abilities were so revered that monks and aristocracy would travel to consult with her. Bede tells us that "All who knew her called her mother because of her outstanding devotion and grace."

When King Oswy wanted to determine definitively whether his realm should follow Celtic or Roman Christianity, he asked Hilda to hold the synod at her abbey. The Synod of Whitby presented arguments for both sides, and Oswy chose Roman Christianity. Hilda preferred Celtic Christianity, but she accepted the decision of the king.

Hilda died on 17 November 680, after several years of suffering from a constant fever that never stopped her from performing her duties. Supposedly, at her death the bells of the monastery rang out so loudly that they were heard 13 miles away.

The Farmer King

Afonso III looked like the savior for Portugal after his brother's kingship, but Afonso fell afoul of the pope himself and was removed prematurely in 1279, leaving the throne to his son Denis, who was 18 years old.

Denis of Portugal was the son of Afonso and his second wife, Beatrice of Castile. Examination of his remains in 1938 reveals that he was 5'5", had auburn-colored hair, and died with a full set of teeth. The teeth are unusual, but so is the hair color, since this was far from typical in his family line. He did, however, have Henry II of England as an ancestor in both parents' lines, so that may have been the ultimate source of the reddish-brown hair.

With minor diversions into necessary military engagements—his father had already done a lot to drive the Moorish occupation out of the Iberian PeninsulaDenis concentrated on administrative details. He extended his father's reforms on law and civil rights, starting a consistent criminal law code. He built new castles and towns and new social institutions to aid administration, and confirmed Portuguese as the official national language.

His nickname "The Farmer" (in Portuguese, Rei Lavrador) came from his attention to land use. He helped farmers to organize and improve agricultural practices, and redistributed land for fairer use. He saw the danger of encroaching sand dunes near the town of Leiria, and halted it by having a pine forest planted which still stands today.

The Unexpected King

Afonso (1210 - 1279) was the second son of Afonso II of Portugal, and so never expected to inherit the throne. It was supposed to go to his older brother Sancho; and it did. Afonso was married to Matilda the Countess of Boulogne in 1238, and went to France to live as Count of Boulogne.

Sancho the Pious (1209 - 1248) became king in 1223. He was good at military decisions, but not an efficient administrator, nor did he do anything to mediate disputes between the middle class and the church. Strife in Portugal became so bad that the archbishop appealed to the pope. Between papal disapproval and the Portuguese nobles disliking Sancho's style, he had to go. He was deposed in December 1247—officially ordered out by Pope Innocent IV—and died one month later.

Afonso was summoned from Boulogne, and had to give up his right to the position there in 1248. Besides the position of Count, he gave up the Countess: he divorced Matilda in 1253 and married Beatrice of Castile.

Avoiding the mistakes of his brother, Afonso III of Portugal paid close attention to the needs of the people. He created the Cortes, a parliament that included the nobility, clergy, and the bourgeoisie. He created laws preventing the aristocracy from exploiting the lower classes. He ensured that arrests had to be presented to a judge to determine the type and length of detention. Unfortunately, taxation of the Church may have been the step that led to his excommunication. The throne then went to his son, Denis, who was only 18 years old.

The Carthusians

Saint Hugo persuades Bruno of Cologne
to found the Carthusian Order
(cathedral window in Grenoble, France)

The Carthusians have been mentioned here before, when Geert Groote gave away all his possessions to that order. A few days ago was the anniversary of the death (6 October 1101) of the founder of the Carthusians, Bruno of Cologne.

Born in Cologne about 1030, he may have studied at the college of St. Cunibert (where Pepin the Short interred the remains of the Two Ewalds). We do know that he went to Reims for his later education—he was probably there when Anne of Kiev got married in the Cathedral—studying Holy Scripture and the Church Fathers. By 1055 he had returned to Cologne and been made a canon at St. Cunibert, but was called back to Reims by its bishop and put in charge of the local schools, a position he maintained until 1075. (One of his students later became Pope Urban II.)

Bruno eventually gave up the administrative duties, refusing the rille of a bishop for something more contemplative. He first spent time with Robert of Molesme, who later founded the Cistercian Order.

When he founded his own order, in 1084, Bruno decided it would be for both men and women. No abbots, because there would be no abbeys; a hermitage would be overseen by a prior. Priests and nuns (or lay brothers and sisters) would be hermits, shutting themselves off from the outside world in small cells. The day would be spent in prayer and labor...and silence.

The first hermitage was built in the Chartreuse Mountains in the French Alps. It is from these mountains that the word "Carthusian" comes. (Also, the monks started producing a cordial in the 1740s called "Chartreuse." From the color of the cordial comes the color chartreuse.)

As penance for the death of St. Thomas Becket, King Henry II built a Carthusian charter house in 1182 in Somerset.

Chaucer's First Boss

A page at work

Lionel, the son of King Edward III of England and Queen Philippa, was born in Antwerp in Flanders in 1338 during the start of the Hundred Years War. He was betrothed at the age of three to the nine-year-old Elizabeth de Burgh, sole heiress to the Earl of Ulster. They were married in 1355, and Lionel became the Earl of Ulster.

An earl's household is a grand one, especially if he's also a son of the king. His wife, if she is the Countess of Ulster, also has a great household with many servants. Into Elizabeth's household, from 1356 to 1359, came a young boy named Geoffrey. His father, vintner John Chaucer, had actually accompanied Lionel's parents on the Flanders trip on which Lionel was born, and had been put in charge of the king's wine imports in Southampton. These connections gave him the chance to place his son in service to the aristocracy, which could open doors for future careers, including that of a knight.

A boy could become a page at the age of seven. Pages would learn to serve at table, carry messages or perform small daily tasks. They might care for the household's clothing. They were also likely to engage in military training against the day when they might become a knight or soldier.

In 1359, Geoffrey Chaucer was taken from the Countess of Ulster and put under Lionel in order to add to the troops that Lionel would command during that phase of the Hundred Years War. There was, however, one link to the Countess of Ulster later in his life: Chaucer married Philippa Roet, who started as a lady-in-waiting in the household of the Countess of Ulster.

Anniversary of Death

Ermentrude and Charles

Let us call this the story of a marriage, and a coincidence. Charles the Bald (823 - 877), a grandson of Charlemagne, was King of West Francia, King of Italy (but only for two years), and Holy Roman Emperor Charles II. His first wife was Ermentrude of Orléans.

Ermentrude's father was Odo, the Count of Orléans, who at one time was exiled by Lothair I (795 - 855), Charles the Bald's half-brother. Lothair did not want his half-brother Charles to inherit anything from the family territories and thereby reduce his and his full brothers' realms. Since Lothair had grudges against both Odo and Charles, a match between the two families probably did not sit well with him.

Little is known of Ermentrude, although she apparently was good at embroidery. Charles gave her Chelles Abbey. Having a religious institution in her possession came in handy when she left Charles in 866 after he executed her brother William (for rebellion).

Ermentrude died 6 October 869, and was buried in St.-Denis. Eight years later...
Charles died on 6 October 877.

Salt & Pepper: Two Ewalds

Statues of the two Ewalds, in the church at Cologne.

Although the Saxons were not converted to Christianity until Charlemagne did it by force in the 8th century, there were other attempts by missionaries to do so. One attempt was made by a pair of friends, both named Ewald.

Ewald the Fair and Ewald the Black were both born in Northumbria and educated in Ireland. Their nicknames were the result of their appearance and not an evaluation of their personalities. Struck with zeal for converting Germans, they traveled to Saxony c.690 where they made the acquaintance of the steward of one of the tribal chieftains in Aplerbeck. The steward said that he would (eventually) introduce them to the chieftain.

During the intervening days, the Ewalds conducted themselves as expected of pious missionaries: they prayed regularly, said Mass for themselves, and recited the canonical hours (prayers meant for different parts of the day). Other Saxons, observing these rituals, feared that the Ewalds were going to try to convert their chieftain to Christianity and eliminate all of their cherished local religious customs and temples. They decided to eliminate the Ewalds instead.

On 3 October 695 (or 692) Ewald the Fair was killed with a sword. Ewald the Black, the cleverer of the two, was seen as the leader and deserving of something more. They tortured him, ripping his limbs apart. The bodies were thrown into the Rhine. According to Bede, when the chieftain heard of what happened, he had the murderers killed.

But the last was not heard of the bodies of the Ewalds: they floated upstream for 40 miles, a heavenly light shining above them, until they reached a place where the Ewalds' companions were camped. The two were buried nearby, but disinterred by Pepin the Short and moved to the church of St. Cunibert in Cologne.

The Battle of Largs

One of the re-creations of the Battle of Largs [source]

King Haakon Haakonsson of Norway refused to sell islands off the Scottish coast to King Alexander II of Scotland, so Alexander started to invade territories held by Norwegians. Hakon sent his fleet to brace for assaults and start a few of their own. (See the background here.)

Stormy weather struck the Norwegian fleet on the night of 30 September 1263; the next morning (1 October) found several ships driven aground on the Scottish mainland. Scottish archers found them and started shooting at the crews. The Norwegians rallied and fought back, reinforced with more men from other ships; joined by King Haakon, they camped ashore for the night.

On 2 October, Alexander's forces arrived and the Battle of Largs began. Although there is a brief mention in the Chronicle of Melrose and more detail in Hakonar saga Hakonarsonar ["The Saga of Hakon Hakonarson"] by Snorri Sturluson, it is impossible to know exactly how many men were on each side and how the battle was fought. Local records show that the Earl of Menteith maintained 120 sergeants, which gives a clue to how many soldiers might come from an area. The Saga says Haakon, with a force of 700+ men, stayed on the beach while about 200 men took the high ground a short way inland.

Supposedly, Alexander's approach prompted the men on the high ground to descend, fearing that they would be cut off from the main Norwegian force. Their hasty rush down from the high ground looked like a necessary retreat to the Norwegians on the beach, and they fled to their ships. In the chaos of the retreat, they took heavy casualties from the Scottish, who used cavalry with armored horses, archers, and some form of catapult.

The Norwegians returned to collect their dead; Alexander allowed them. They then sailed to the Hebrides and later to Orkney, where Haakon died in December (he was 59 years old). Negotiations between Alexander and the Norwegians over the disputed territories continued, but slowly. Alexander built up his forces on land while Hakon's fleet suffered over the winter. Although the Battle of Largs was not decisive in any way, ultimately the aftermath led to a wearing down of Norwegian morale. In 1266, the Treaty of Perth created peace between the two countries, and gave the Hebrides and the Isle of Mann back to Scotland.

Norway vs. Scotland

If you look at the top of the globe, you realize how seafarers from Norway could easily dip south to Scotland on their way to colonize Iceland. In fact, Scotland was a frequently harassed target of Vikings from Norway in the Middle Ages. By the 9th century there was a Scandinavian settlement on the western shores of Scotland and in several of their island chains. This long-standing presence was one of the reasons that Harald Hardrada felt he had a claim to England after the death of Edward the Confessor.

Various groups of islands around Scotland paid allegiance to the kings of Norway up through the 13th century. In 1249, King Alexander II of Scotland tried to gain back some territory; he offered to buy Argyll and the Hebrides from King Hakon Hakonarson; being rebuffed, Alexander launched a military campaign to take them, but died before he could fulfill his purpose. His son, Alexander III, was not even 10 years old, and so his attempt to free Scottish lands from Norwegian occupation would not come until much later.

It came in 1262: Alexander tried (unsuccessfully) purchasing the Hebrides again, and then attacked Skye. Hakon responded with what the Icelandic Annals considered the largest force to set sail from Norway. When he reached Scotland, the Norwegian locals were not exactly happy to see him: self-rule had been the norm for years. There was a failed attempt to negotiate between the two nations over possession of some islands, after which Hakon split his fleet up to harass different parts of Scotland.

What happened next will be a subject for tomorrow.

Taxing the Church

Excerpt from the Taxatio; see the word "Census" upper-right

Today is the birthday of  Pope Nicholas IV; you can read a brief summary of his life here. Today I want to dig a little deeper into his Taxatio Ecclesiastica ["Church Tax"], which put a value on all parish churches and prebends (non-parish churches, such as those attached to a college) in England and Wales. The purpose of the Taxatio in 1291 was to present to King Edward I one-tenth of the annual profits of each church.

Nicholas was willing to do this to support Edward's intention to go on Crusade. He had been on Crusade decades earlier, and supposedly intended to go again. In 1291, however, the Mamluks captured Acre, the last Christian stronghold in the Middle East, removing from European hands the opportunity for a convenient base from which to re-take the Holy Land. Edward never went on Crusade, but the Taxatio remained.

The documents created by the Taxatio determined the possessions and taxable income of England and Wales for almost 300 years, up until Henry VIII. Historians now can find many inaccuracies in the documents—mostly because the tax was determined inconsistently: each parish assigned two clergy to interview each landholder and record their income. This was done differently in different parishes; the cutoff level for taxable income, for instance, was not always listed consistently.

Edward needed more money, however, in order to finance his wars. In 1294 he demanded (using threats) a tax from the clergy of 50%, and got it. A year later, he decided to be gentler and get them to agree to give him money. This gentler approach failed, however, because the clergy did not want to give in, thereby showing their obedience to a temporal ruler. Edward turned to the Archbishop of Canterbury (Robert Winchelsey) and got him to summon the clergy together; this was the first time the English clergy were called in Convocation, paralleling Parliament. In order to prevent abuses like this in the future, Pope Boniface VIII in 1296 issued a papal bull against such payments.

Edward countered this by telling his law courts not to hear any grievances brought by clergy, but to hear any grievance brought against clergy. The English clergy could take just so much of this, and got around the pope's injunctions by volunteering an amount equivalent to the king's request.

The Fair Maid of Kent

To Froissart she was "the most beautiful woman in all the realm of England, and the most loving"; in her own right she was the 4th Countess of Kent and the 5th Baroness Wake of Liddell; to Edward the Black Prince she was wife; to history she was "The Fair Maid of kent."

Her father, Edmund of Woodstock, was a son of King Edward I, which meant that she and the Black Prince were cousins—not uncommon for aristocratic marriages. She might have been able to marry him at all, however, since she had been imprisoned when she was a child.

Her father had supported Edward II (who was his older half-brother) during the conflict with Queen Isabella and Roger Mortimer. Once Edward II was deposed, Edmund was executed and his wife and children placed under house arrest in Arundel Castle. Once Edward III came to power, however, he took the family into his care. Joan was his 1st cousin, and the 2nd cousin of his wife, Queen Philippa.

Having survived the scandal of being associated with a traitor, she mdd her own royal mistake when she was 12: she made a secret marriage with Thomas Holland without getting the king's consent. Then Thomas went Crusading. While he was gone, her family—unaware that she had contracted marriage with someone else—arranged a marriage with William Montacute, son of the Earl of Salisbury. Joan did not disclose that she was already married for fear that Thomas would be executed.

Thomas eventually returned to England, having gained great wealth on Crusade, found his wife married into the family of the Earl of Salisbury, and promptly appealed for help to King Edward and Pope Clement VI. Joan expressed the desire to return to the husband of her choice, and the Earl of Salisbury promptly imprisoned her in her own home. The pope, however, chose to annul the second marriage; Joan joined Thomas, and they had four or five children over the next 11 years. Holland died in 1360.

Joan was now about 30, and Edward the Prince of Wales (later called "The Black Prince") a little younger. They had known each other growing up, and a gift from him of a silver cup suggests special affection for his second cousin. There is some evidence that the pair made a secret marriage (this was getting to be a habit of hers) in 1360. This presented a problem, because their relationship was too close for the laws of consanguinity. Edward III, however, requested of the pope that a special dispensation be made, and the two were formally wed on 10 October 1361.

Their son, Richard of Bordeaux, would become King Richard II on the death of Edward III. Joan died on 7 August 1385.

Battle of Stamford Bridge, Part 2

The first part is here.

Death of Harald Hardrada, illustration from Matthew Paris

King Harold Godwinson of England, hearing that King Harald Hardrada of Norway had invaded the north of England and, with Harold's brother Tostig Godwinson, had captured York, marched quickly to meet him, covering over 180 miles in four days. On 25 September 1066, the two armies met at Stamford Bridge.

The presence of an actual Stamford Bridge has been disputed. Stamford does not appear in the Domesday Book, compiled 20 years later to tally all of the king's possessions in England. It is, however, mentioned in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. We just don't know where it was. The River Derwent (by which the battle took place) must have had a crossing, and there may have been a bridge then of which now we can find no trace, but there must have been something somewhere along the Derwent that allowed the English to cross it and engage the Norwegian army.

Hardrada's forces were completely unaware that the English army was so near. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle reports that a single axe-man ran to the bridge to hold off the crossing English at a narrow point, killing two score English until one passed under the bridge in a boat and stabbed upward with a spear. The delay allowed the invaders to hastily pull themselves into a defensive circle and put up a shield wall—but not enough time to put on their armor. Harold was able to surround them and attack the shield wall in several places. The battle lasted hours, but the lack of preparation among the Norwegians wore them down. Despite the arrival of reinforcements who had been left guarding their ships, Tostig was slain, and an arrow to Hardrada's windpipe brought him down, putting his army into disarray. They were wiped out by the English. It is said that, 50 years later, the field was still littered with bleached bones of the slain.

Harold took pledges from Hardrada's son Olaf, that he would never attack England again. Of the 300 ships they brought to attack England, only 24 were needed to return the survivors. It was a definitive defeat that sent a signal to all the Scandinavian countries. Harold had a right to be proud.

Three days after the battle, on 28 September, William of Normandy arrived on the southern coast with an army from Normandy. But that story has been told before.

Battle of Stamford Bridge, Part 1

In the absence of historical photographs, I give you Lego Stamford Bridge!

In the competition for the throne resulting from the death of Edward the Confessor, Harold Godwinson won out, but this did not sit well with his brother Tostig. Tostig had not been very successful in his position as Earl of Northumbria, but that did not mean he didn't think he deserved more than just being brother to a king. Harold needed a strong and united England to deal with the impending threat of William of Normandy, who also claimed the English throne, and he could not afford to have Tostig causing trouble (or just being weak) in the north.

Harold and his nobles exiled Tostig, who returned with a new ally: Harald Hardrada, King of Norway. Hardrada believed himself to be rightful King of Denmark as well, and given how many times Danes had invaded England and established footholds, he figure that he had a strong claim to England. In September of 1066, Tostig and Hardrada arrived in northern England with a fleet of about 300 ships (according to English sources; Snorri Sturluson's Norse account claims 200 ships, "not counting supply ships").

This force of about 9000 Vikings took York with little fighting after the Battle of Fulford. They took hostages, asked for tribute (supplies) to be delivered to a place called Stamford Bridge (presumably a decent open space that could accommodate thousands of men), and relaxed, figuring that there was no immediate danger from King Harold. After all, he was 190 miles away, guarding the shore at which he could expect William to land.

Word reached Harold on September 20th of the presence of the Norwegian army. Messengers were sent to other parts of the kingdom, and Harold and his thegns headed north. A mere four days later, they arrived at the town of Tadcaster, only 10 miles southwest of York. They had averaged 45 miles per day!

On 25 September 1066, the Battle of Stamford Bridge was swift and bloody. Details tomorrow...

The Fork

17th century knife and fork

There is a point in the movie Becket (taken from the play of the same name by Jean Anouilh) that introduces the fork. King Henry II has never heard of it before, and doesn't see the point.* Forks did come to England rather late, but they were around much earlier elsewhere.

Ancient Greeks used two-tined forks as serving utensils, though not for transporting food directly to the mouth. Forks show up in the Middle East by the 7th century CE, used by aristocracy. In the 11th century, the Doge of Venice, Domenico Selvio, married a Byzantine princess, Theodora, who brought to Venice a case of forks, surprising the locals with her refusal to eat with her hands. Bishop Peter Damian of Ostia attributed her death to her "excessive delicacy."

"An Englishman named Thomas Coryate brought the first forks to England after seeing them in Italy during his travels in 1608." [link] This is not true of the "first forks," since documentary evidence of forks exists in England prior to that. This site shows examples of forks in wills and household accounts:

• The Will of John Baret of Bury St. Edmunds, 1463: "Itm J. yeve and beqwethe to Davn John Kertelynge my silvir forke for grene gyngor" [my translation: "Item: I give and bequeath to Davin John Kerteling my silver fork for green ginger."
• The Jewelhouse inventory of Henry VIII: "Item one spone wt suckett fork at the end of silver and gilt" [Note: a "suckett" fork was used to get preserves like ginger out of jars; John Baret's was probably also a suckett fork.]
• Inventory of property left by Henry VII: "Item, one Case wherein are xxi knives and a fork, the hafts being crystal and chalcedony, the ends garnished with gold"
• "Item, one Case of knives furnished with divers knives and one fork, whereof two be great hafts of silver parcel-gilt, the case covered with crimson velvet"

This is not to say that everyone in England had seen forks; only that forks were known at least to the upper classes. No doubt they were often made with expensive materials, and not accessible to everyone.

They started with two tines to prevent whatever was speared from twisting. The tines were straight, however, and some foods tended to slip off. More tines were eventually added for stability, and in the late 17th century in France we start to find curved tines meant for scooping and holding food more reliably.

Our word "fork" comes from Old English forca, meaning a pitchfork, from the Latin furca for pitchfork. The French called them forchette for "little pitchfork."

*You can see a clip here.

Marian Miracles

The Virgin of Miracles

The Virgin of Miracles is a statue in a monastery in Huelva, Spain.  It is 54 centimeters (21 inches) tall. By legend, it was made by St. Luke in the 1st century CE; by careful dating and artistic style, it is dated to the late 13th or early 14th centuries. Supposedly, it was thrown into the sea during the Arab conquest of Spain to save it from the infidels, and after the Spanish Reconquista it surfaced in the nets of local fishermen.

Miracles such as this are part and parcel of a religion and its saints, but Mary seems to have inspired more tales of miracles than any other figure in Christianity. The Middle Ages was full of them.

• A priest who was not capable of saying any Mass other than that of the Virgin Mary was suspended by his bishop for lack of competence. Mary appeared to the bishop and told him to reinstate the priest...or die. The bishop knew better than to disobey.

• Gregory of Tours tells us that a Jewish child wandered into a church dedicated to Mary and took Communion during Mass. Finding this out, his father angrily threw him into a furnace. When his mother pulled him out, he was unharmed. The boy claimed that a woman with a baby whom he had seen in the church appeared in the furnace and covered him with her mantle to protect him.

• A monastery suffering from famine decided to pray to Mary throughout the night. The next morning their barns were filled with grain and food. This miracle turned into an annual occurrence for several years.

• A medieval story from before the 13th century tells us a Flemish monk whose job was to illustrate the portals of the abbey with scenes of Heaven and Hell. While painting an ugly Satan, Satan appeared and begged the monk to portray him as handsome. The monk refused, Satan collapsed his scaffolding, and a statue of Mary extended its arms and held him from falling until help could arrive.

Tales of miracles were a comfort, assuring the populace that there were forces at work in the world to save them from the dangers therein.

The Scottish-English Border

The border separating England from Scotland almost became a little thicker last week, and this week is the anniversary of its creation, with the Treaty of York on 25 September 1237. The border had, not surprisingly, fluctuated over the years, but the Treaty of York effectively stopped Scotland's attempts to push south.

The Treaty itself was not a grandly historical moment—and historians often skip over it when discussing relations between the two countries—but the event is interesting because of the account by Matthew Paris and the relationship between the participants, King Alexander II of Scotland and King Henry III of England. The two of them worked well together when they had to; after all, Alexander had married Henry's sister Joan in 1221, and Alexander's sister had married Henry's former regent, the influential Hubert de Burgh.

But Matthew Paris (known for being less than objective or factual) made the Treaty far more interesting by lying about the signing. He had nothing good to say about Alexander, portraying him as uncivil and aggressive toward the attending papal legate, Otho, who had been invited by Henry. Supposedly, Alexander claimed that, since no papal legate had ever been to Scotland, he would not allow any papal legate to visit the country. This was untrue, since papal legates had visited Scotland under Alexander's grandfather, uncle, and father; Alexander himself had seen a papal legate earlier.

The Treaty did not end a vicious war or curtail a rebellion; in some ways, it merely ratified current conditions. Scotland gave up claims to Northumberland, Cumberland, and Westmorland, and gave up a debt of 15,000 silver marks owed to Scotland that had been given to King John. Scotland also forgave the breaking of promises to marry some of Alexander's sisters to prominent Englishmen. England, in turn, gave Scotland specific territories within Northumberland and Cumberland, with complete judicial control over actions within.

Both countries also ratified that previous treaties and agreements that did not contradict the Treaty of York would be honored.

All in all, the Treaty did not seem to do much, and yet unfulfilled aristocratic marriage promises, royal debts, and border disputes had been enough to cause war, or at least great hostility between nations. The document signed at York that day may well have prevented much strife that otherwise would have followed.

Miracle in Cupertino

St. Joseph of Cupertino levitating

In the United States these days (and probably elsewhere in the world), the name Cupertino evokes the hometown of Apple, maker of computers and iPhones and a few other things. To a different population, however, Cupertino is a village in the "heel" of the Italian peninsula. The two Cupertinos are linked: much of California was explored by christian missionaries (many of them Jesuits) who founded towns named for saints or other holy images. The Cupertino in California is named for Saint Joseph of Cupertino.

He was born 17 June 1603* to a poor family. His father, a carpenter, died before Joseph was born, leaving debts that drove Joseph's mother from her home. In consequence, Joseph was born in a stable. From this interesting beginning, he showed a tendency toward ecstatic visions as a child, brought on by anything related to religion, including the ringing of a church bell.

Rejected by the Franciscans in 1620 because of his lack of formal education, he applied to the Capuchin friars. They took him in for a short time: his visions distracted him from his expected chores. He finally was allowed to join the Conventual friars near Cupertino, finally becoming a Catholic priest in 1628.

It is after this turning point that reports started of his levitating during his ecstatic visions while at Mass. Levitation brought a reputation for holiness and attention that was unwanted by his superiors. It also brought fears of witchcraft, and he was brought to the Inquisition, whence he was sent for observation to several different abbeys. He was put on a strict regimen for the next 35 years, fasting most of the week.

Because of his levitation (which some feared, but no line denied), he is considered the patron saint of astronauts, aviators, and travelers in the air. He is also the patron of poor students.

He died 18 September 1663.

*Yes, this is a little late for Daily Medieval, but I'm taking my inspiration from this because today is launch day for the newest iPhone.

Scottish Independence...

...is a big topic these days. Today, in fact, Scotland is voting whether to stay in the United Kingdom or strike out on its own. If it did, it would be the 20th largest economy in the world, thanks especially to its top three imports. In order of their importance, they are oil, gas, and whiskey. Let's talk about the third one.

Lindores Whisky

Unlike wine, the fermented juice of grapes, whiskey is a distillation of fermented grain. Before the Common Era we find evidence of distillation in Babylon and Mesopotamia, originally for developing perfumes and medicines. We are not sure when and where the process was first adapted for drinking, but the Ancient Celts might have been using it to produce their version of the Latin aqua vitæ ["water of life"] for which their term was uisgebeatha or just uisge [pronounced "whiskey"].

Distillation of alcohol was done in 13th century Italy, using wine. Ramon Lull (1232 - 1315) even wrote about the process.

We think Christian monks brought the process to Ireland and Scotland between the 11th and 13th centuries, where the lack of grapes made it the best option for creating a strong alcoholic drink. The first recorded batch of Scotch whisky shows up in the Exchequer Rolls for 1494-95, granting eight measures of malt to Friar John Cor to make aqua vitæ. Friar John was a monk at Lindores Abbey in Fife. Irish whiskey was mentioned earlier: the Annals of Clonmacnoise in 1405 record the death of a chieftain from "a surfeit of aqua vitae" at Christmas.

The Dissolution of Monasteries (1536 - 1541) in Scotland by Henry VIII forced many monks into private production. Sad, because by this time Scotland was the world leader in production of whisky. Keep in mind, however, that whiskey at that time was not aged, and so was a very different drink from what we expect today.

You may also have noticed that I have spelled the word two ways. "whiskey" is the word used in Ireland and the United States; "whisky" is the spelling used in Canada, Scotland, and the rest of the world. Some U.S. brands use the e-less spelling despite this convention. "Scotch whisky" is whiskey made in Scotland. There is discussion these days about whether some Scottish distilleries would even move to England after independence in order to keep the same export policies and fees in place. We should know soon whether this will be an issue.

The Y1K Problem

One example of the "white mantle of churches"

So...the Venerable Bede suggests that time be reckoned since the year of Christ's birth. People start numbering years. They start to notice a disturbing trend: they are approaching a big even number: 1000. Ralph Glaber lived through this traumatic transition, and left us an account.

Born in 985 in Burgundy, at the age of 12 his monk uncle found him a place in the monastery of Saint-Léger-de-Champeaux for education and discipline, but he was expelled for bad conduct. He later joined the Benedictines at Cluny, becoming a monk of his own accord. He later lived at two other monasteries. He died in 1050. His life's work was a five-volume chronicle called Historiarum libri quinque ab anno incarnationis DCCCC usque ad annum MXLIV ["History in five books from 900 to 1044"]. His Latin was far from elegant, his grasp of historical facts was far from accurate, and yet the history he wrote provides us with insight to the mood of the time.

And that mood was dark and dire. Glaber saw corruption everywhere:

Warned by the prophecy of Holy Writ, we see clearer than daylight that in the process of the Last Days, as love waxed cold and iniquity abounded among mankind, perilous times were at hand for men's souls. For by many assertions of the ancient fathers we are warned that, as covetousness stalks abroad, the religious Rules or Orders of the past have caught decay and corruption from that which should have raised them to growth and progress.. . From this [covetousness] also proceed the constant tumult of quarrels at law, and frequent scandals arise, and the even tenor of the different Orders is rent by their transgressions. Thus also it comes to pass that, while irreligiousness stalks abroad among the clergy, froward* and incontinent appetites grow among the people, until lies and deceit and fraud and manslaughters, creeping abroad among them, draw almost all to perdition!

After the millennium was survived, however, he lets us know that the world changed for the better:

It was as if the whole world were shaking itself free, shrugging off the burden of the past, and cladding itself everywhere in a white mantle of churches.

The phrase "white mantle of churches" has entered the lexicon of medieval imagery, and is remembered and used in print more than Glaber's darker imagery of the corruption leading up to the year 1000.

*FYI: "froward" is not a typo; it means "to lead away/astray"

When Being Pope is Not a Step Up

You would think that being named pope is the highest achievement for a man in that particular field, and that it comes with the power to accomplish many great and far-reaching things. And you would be right, for the most part. Consider, however, a man who was already considered great before he ascended to the Throne of Peter, and for whom the papacy took him away from the opportunities to do good.

Dauferius, the younger son of Prince Landulf V of Benevento, was born c.1026. At his father's death in 1047, Dauferius ran away from home to escape an arranged marriage, was dragged back, and ran off again. He ran to the monastery of San Sophia and started calling himself Desiderius. He changed monasteries a few times, seeking a more austere life each time. His reputation for discipline and piety brought him to the attention of Pope Leo IX. It is thought that the pope asked Desiderius to negotiate peace between the Normans and a combined Italian-Lombard-Swabian army. Since the Normans defeated the army that included Desiderius' own countrymen, he would have been glad to help.

Desiderius became a member of the court of Pope Victor II, who influenced him greatly. More than that, however: at Victor's court Desiderius met two monk of Monte Cassino, and followed them there in 1055, where he was steeped in the details of Benedictine rule. Two years later, during a visit from the previous abbot of Monte Cassino, now Pope Stephen IX (though he had never relinquished the title of abbot), the monks were told to elect a new about to replace the pope. The monks picked Desiderius.

As abbot his real work began. He rebuilt Monte Cassino and beefed up the scriptorium, his reputation bringing more monks (there were 200 in his day) and gifts to the monastery. He had been appointed by the pope to reform whatever monasteries he thought needed it, and to appoint bishops from Benedictines if he felt it necessary. His reputation as a wise man and negotiator meant that even factions that were at war with the pope were cordial to Monte Cassino. For almost 30 years he worked to improve his world.

When Pope Gregory VII lay dying, he named Desiderius as one of his possible successors (even though they did not see eye-to-eye on the subject of reforms). When Desiderius learned that a lot of people wanted to see him become pope, he went back to Monte Cassino and tried to avoid the privilege. Pressure was great, however, and he acquiesced, being named Pope Victor III on 24 May 1086. Unfortunately, the antipope Clement III in Rome prevented him from being consecrated and actually moving into the Vatican until 9 May 1087. Much of his time as pope was spent replacing Clement and undoing some of the damage from his papacy.

And then he died, on 16 September; total time actually in office: 130 days.

He should have just stayed in Monte Cassino.

Charles the (Not) Simple

Charles the Simple

Charles III, called "the Simple" (from Latin Carolus Simplex) was a King of Francia (what we think of today as France) and Lotharingia (what we think of today as the Rhineland, western Switzerland, and the Low Countries).

He was born 17 September 879, the third son of Louis the Stammerer (son of Charles the Bald) and Adelaide of Paris. His father died before Charles was born, and Charles might have succeeded him as king, but his cousin Charles the Fat was put on the throne by the nobility. When Charles the Fat was deposed in 887—he was increasingly seen as spineless after paying off the Vikings and showing little inclination to military solutions—the nobility again skipped over Charles in favor of Odo of Paris. Eventually, however, a faction within Francia decided that Charles the Simple should be made the rightful ruler; he was crowned king in 893, but only assumed the throne once Odo died in 898.

Charles negotiated with the Vikings whom Charles the Fat had paid off. In exchange for peace, he granted them lands on the continent. Their leader, Rollo, was baptized and married Charles' daughter, Gisela. Their heirs became the Dukes of Normandy, leading eventually to William the Conqueror.

Charles himself married (for the second time) to Eadgifu, a daughter of the English King Edward the Elder. Their son was the future King Louis IV of France.

The initial opposition to Charles was not due to the nickname. Although we translate Carolus Simplex as "Charles the Simple," the adjective has become...umm..."simplified" over time. When attached to Charles, it did not mean he was unintelligent; rather, that he was straightforward and direct, acting without subterfuge or guile.

But this quality did not endear him to everyone. Not everyone appreciated giving territory to the Vikings, or some of his other decisions. Odo's brother Robert became the fiscal point for revolt in 922, and Charles had to flee. Returning with a Norman army, he was defeated on 15 June 923, captured and imprisoned, where he died on 7 October 929. Eadgifu fled to England when the revolt took place, but her son Louis would return to become king of France in 936.

Knitting, Part 2

The Virgin Mary sits a-knitting in this
14th-century painting in Siena by Lorenzetti

Naalbinding, a pre-knitting method of linking thread/yarn over on itself to make clothing, was discussed here. What we call knitting may not have been created independently, but was likely developed from naalbinding when someone realized there had to be a more efficient way of linking or looping the threads that passing the end and whole remaining length of it through the previously made links.*

Like with naalbinding, our earliest examples of knitting come from Egypt, where the dry climate and soil helped to preserve archeological finds. They were a product of Muslim culture, whose artistic patterns follow such traditions that we can date items by their style of decoration. (Early knitting used cotton and wool. Both could be dyed, resulting in multiple colors and elaborate patterns.) In Egypt, we have pieces of true knitting that date to as early as the 8th century CE.

In Western Europe, the earliest examples of knitting come from Spain. A set of 13th-century bishop's gloves and two cushion covers knitted in silk are found in the Monastery of Las Huelgas.

The earliest examples of knitting also show a "jog" in the pattern which suggests to experts (knitting experts, not archaeologists) that early knitting like early naalbinding was done in the round. Because of this, knitting was best used for smaller items that curved, such as gloves or mittens, socks, hats, and small bags or purses. Examples of back-and-forth knitting don't show up (at least, none have survived) earlier than about 1600. That is when we start seeing larger items of clothing, like knitted jackets, made from flat pieces that result from a two-needle back-and-forth knitting technique. We know, however, that knitting was regularly producing garments before 1600: a British Parliamentary Act of 1552 that limited the selling of wool mentions knitted shirts.

The artist Ambrogio Lorenzetti, whose art happens to provide examples of everyday living (as in this post on the hourglass), shows the Virgin Mary knitting in a 1345 painting.

*This is all different from crocheting, which did not show up until the 19th century.

Knitting, Part 1

Naalbinding technique [link]

Technically, today's post is not about knitting, but about an earlier technique with a similar result known as naalbinding. Naalbinding, or nålebinding, is Danish for "needle-binding." In English it is sometimes referred to as "knotless knitting."

Some archeological finds have been designated as early knitting when they were really naalbinding. Knitting as we know it today appears near the end of the first millennium CE, whereas threads woven by naalbinding can be found dating to centuries earlier.

The difference is that, while knitting involves a continuous row of loops linked together by the use of two needles, naalbinding uses a needle to pass the whole length of the thread/yarn through each loop, and the loops must be bound together during the creation process (see the illustration above). In knitting, simply turning the piece around once all the links have been transferred to one needle means that the next row will be automatically linked to the row on the needle. Naalbinding uses shorter pieces of yarn, not one long continuous piece.

Despite the Danish label, naalbinding's earliest examples are found around the world, in socks used by Coptic Christians of the 4th century and hats and shawls of the inhabitants of what is now Peru dating to 300 BCE. The pair of wool socks shown here, meant to be worn with sandals, is in the Victoria & Albert Museum in London. They were excavated in Egypt and date to between 300 and 500 CE.

For those wishing to know more, a how-to for the process is explained and illustrated here.