Marriage Alliances

It was expected that kings and other nobles would try to gain alliances (and therefore security) by marrying their sons and daughters to important people in other realms, and King Henry II of England was no exception. He had gained Aquitaine and Poitou on the continent by marriage to Eleanor, and was already Duke of Normandy.

Not all marriage plans come to fruition, however, for one reason or another.

His first plan was to marry his eldest legitimate son, Henry the Young King, to Marguerite the daughter of Louis VII of France. Ideally, their offspring would rule both France and England. They were married in 1172, when Henry was only 17 and Marguerite 14 (it had been negotiated when he was only five). Young Henry died in 1183 from dysentery while rebelling against his father. His one child, a son named William, did not survive. The attempt to bring several territories together failed.

Another son, Richard "Lionhearted," was betrothed to another daughter of Louis, Alys, in 1169. But the rumor became that Alys, being fostered in the care of Henry II, became his mistress. As the sister of the new king of France, Philip II, Richard was reluctant to renounce the betrothal. When Henry died in 1189 and Richard was crowned, he broke off the intended marriage in 1190 while speaking with Philip on the Third Crusade. A year later Richard married Berengaria of Navarre.

Alys was offered by Philip to Prince John, but Eleanor stopped it. Alys went on to marry William IV Talvas, Count of Ponthieu, in 1195; she was 35, he was 16.

Another son, Geoffrey, was married to Constance of Brittany, daughter of Conan IV, Duke of Brittany, in order to quell problems of rebellion there.

While Henry II was figuring out how his kingdom would be divided among his sons, he had nothing left for the youngest son, John. Jahn's nickname of "Lackland" reflects this. Looking far afield for some way to use his youngest, he made an arrangement to marry John to Alice, the daughter of Humbert III of Savoy. John was promised to inherit from hi father-in-law Savoy, Piedmont, Maurienne, and other possessions in northern Italy. Alice of Maurienne traveled to England to become a ward of Henry II, but she died before the wedding could take place. John later married twice, both women named Isabella; "local" women whose fathers were important and wanted their grandchildren to rule England.

Political marriages don't always work out as planned.

I've used Henry the Young King mostly as a footnote, but he was much written about while he lived, and accomplished more than being crowned prematurely and dying while rebelling unsuccessfully against his father. I want to dive into his life and motives a little more...next time.

The Joust

The Joust was a specific kind of tournament, and was one of the few types of military contests that had to be on horseback and involved only two combatants at a time. This one-on-one duel involved two men, each mounted, riding at each other with lances, attempting to unseat the other or break their lance. In some cases, a wooden barrier was placed the length of the lists to prevent the horses from colliding.

In the 12th century, jousting was sometimes not allowed because it distracted from the excitement of the other events, especially the mêlée, but Edward II of England in 1309 banned all forms of tournament except the joust. For him, it was more exciting to watch than the Pas d'armes or Tupinaire or Quintain, easier to see than the Mêlée because the men were higher off the ground and there were only two, a bit safer because there was a specific goal.

Some people spoke out against any form of tournament. Pope Innocent II at Clermont forbade Christian burial for anyone killed in a tournament. He was all for warfare against the heathen, but did not want Christians endangering each other's lives. And tournaments could be dangerous; just a few posts back we learned of someone dying because of a tournament. Henry II imposed a ban on tournaments because knights traveling from far and wide to join one were indulging in harassment of the population along the way. His son Richard, however, loved fighting, and established six locations where they were permitted to hold tourneys (and established a fee structure—payable to the Crown—for those who wanted to hold them and participate).

Richard's brother, John, and John's son, Henry III, made jousting more difficult with restrictions that encouraged safety but limited the excitement. Some of the rules that developed over time were necessary, to help figure out who won. After a day of pairs of knights going against each other, the winners could be declared as follows:

1st place: unhorsing the opponent; extra if the horse falls down.
2nd place: breaking lances
3rd place: most striking of the opponent's visor (this was particularly dangerous, but got you points)
4th place: breaking the most spears

There were also rules that could disqualify you:

Striking a horse
Striking a man's back from behind him

You could also be penalized for breaking your spear on the opponent's saddle (a forbidden target).

Some of the last tournaments and jousts took place during the reign of Henry VIII, who used elaborate ones to celebrate momentous events, such as the birth of a son.

Next time, I want to talk about Pope Innocent II and his Second Lateran Council that forbade jousts and tournaments.

Joachim de Fiore

In a message for the World Day of Creation (27 June, 2024), Pope Francis said of Joachim de Fiore that he  "was able to propose the ideal of a new spirit" and that this was a turning point in history. And Rick Searle, author of the Utopia or Dystopia blog, called him "The Man Who Invented the Future" in a 2015 post. These are extraordinary 21st century statements about a little-known 12th century monk. So who was Joachim de Fiore?

He was born in Calabria c.1135 to a good family who made sure he was educated to become a clerk of the courts and then follow his father's footsteps and become a notary.

On a pilgrimage to the Holy Land c.1159 he experienced a spiritual conversion that made him turn away from a worldly life. On his return to Calabria, he became a hermit, wandering and preaching for several years although he did not join an order. Lay preaching was not always an acceptable practice to church authorities, who pressured him to "form Alize" his actions by joining the monks of the Abbey of Corazzo, where he was ordained c.1168. He began studying Scripture intently, certain that there was meaning hidden there that had not yet been revealed or understood. He was especially concerned with the apostle John's book of Revelation.

Around this time he had become a counselor to Margaret of Navarre, mother and regent for the underage William II of Sicily, where he probably met Peter of Blois.

About 1177 the monks of Corazzo, impressed by his scholarship and piety, made him their abbot, a responsibility and authority which he did not crave. In 1182, after trying and failing to join Corazzo to the Cistercian Order because of Corazzo's poverty, and convincing William II of Sicily to grant Corazzo some lands, he got permission from Pope Lucius III to step down as abbot and find another home. Joachim went to the Abbey of Casamari, which had recently changed from Benedictine to the more strict Cistercian Order. There he wrote three books: The Harmony of the New and Old Testaments, Exposition of Apocalypse, and the Psaltery of Ten Strings.

He was one of those rare people in this era who was writing things people had not said before, but did not get declared heretical. Lucius III and succeeding popes approved of what he was saying, and his fame spread. Constance the Empress of Sicily invited him to hear her confession, and left her raised chair to sit on the ground when he pointed out the need to humble herself. Richard the Lionheart met with him prior to the Third Crusade to get advice. The Spirituals of the Franciscans declared him a prophet (which Joachim denied).

In 1200 he submitted all of his writing to Pope Innocent III for examination and approval. Sadly, he died in 1202 before the results and before he could finish his final book, Tract on the Four Gospels, but his works were copied and distributed widely.

What was it that he wrote that created such an impact that, 800 years later, a pope would call his work a turning point and a scholar would call him the man who invented the future? I'll go. explain that tomorrow, but leave you with this teaser: by "future" Searle did not mean he predicted what things would be like in the future. Searle meant that Joachim invented the concept of the future. Stay tuned.

The Town of Sandwich

So...Sandwich. Most people just think about the food item that shares its name, but it has had more history than that, and not just as a Cinque Port. Its significance as a port in southeast England helped to weave it through many events that have been mentioned in this blog before.

The name Sondwic is mentioned first in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, covering events in England from the 800s to 1154. The Domesday Book, an account of all property in England so the new Norman rulers knew what they had, calls it Sandwice. The suffix -wic is Anglo-Sacon for a fortified place where trade takes place (a town). The name means a market town on sandy soil, appropriate for a coastal location.

When Rome invaded Britain in 43 CE, Sandwich was their landing point (technically, a town called Stonar across the river Stour from Sandwich, but Stonar disappeared in the 14th century).

King Cnut (c.990 - 1035) had history with Sandwich, initially leaving a pile of bodies strewn across the beach when he fled to Denmark after fighting with King Æthelred the Unready, but then later giving special rights to the church at Sandwich.

When Richard Lionheart was released from captivity after the Third Crusade and returned to England, Sandwich was his choice of landing port.

During the First Barons War (mentioned here) against King John, Prince Louis (later King Louis VIII) of France landed at sandwich to support the barons against John. The Battle of Sandwich was part of the First Barons War, and had the participation of Eustace, the Pirate Monk.

In the 14th century, a hospital (an almshouse for the poor) was established, named for St. Thomas Becket and still standing (see illustration).

In 1660, an earldom was created to bestow on Admiral Sir Edward Montagu. The 4th Earl of Sandwich was First Lord of the Admiralty and sponsored the voyages of Captain Jame Cook, who named the Sandwich islands for the Earl. The 4th Earl, John Montagu, is also credited with the naming of a food item when asking for meat between two pieces of bread so that he would not have to stop his activities. It bears mentioning, however, that a 1st century CE rabbi, Hillel the Elder, put the lamb and bitter herbs of the Seder between two pieces of matzoh, so this concept predates Montage by several centuries. (I doubt, however, that you'd get anything but blank stares of you ask for a "roast beef hillel" next time you want lunch.)

In a more serious vein: once again, I find a gap in my reporting: although King Cnut has had several references in this blog going back over a decade, he himself has not had his story told. Stay tuned.

The Magnetic Compass

Alexander Neckham was a theologian and writer from St. Albans whose birthday gave him a surprising status. He was born on 8 September 1157, reportedly the same day as King Henry II's son Richard. This made Alexander's mother, Hodierna, an ideal wet nurse for the baby prince. Richard and Alexander would both be nursed by Hodierna. Hodierna was housed (and Alexander therefore raised) in the king's household and treated well.* Hodierna would even become Richard's nanny and his main source of maternal affection.

Alexander received an education similar to the young Richard, and went on to become abbot of Cirencester Abbey. He also wrote books on theology and other subjects. One of these books was his De naturis rerum ("On the nature of things"). Here's a passage:

The sailors, moreover, as they sail over the sea, when in cloudy weather they can no longer profit by the light of the sun, or when the world is wrapped up in the darkness of the shades of night, and they are ignorant to what point of the compass their ship's course is directed, they touch the magnet with a needle, which (the needle) is whirled round in a circle until, when its motion ceases, its point looks direct to the north. (1863 translation)

This is the earliest (written between 1187 and 1202) reference in Europe to the use of the magnetic compass. Beckham had recently returned from France and was specifically referring to seeing the use of the compass in the English Channel.

The Chinese were using the magnetic compass over a hundred years prior to this. It is tempting to make the leap to Chinese inventions and Marco Polo's writings, but Polo (1254-1324) lived well after Neckham wrote. It is still a strong possibility that Italian traders brought back the invention of the magnetic compass.

For the Chinese, it was a magnetized needle floating in a bowl of water and called the "South Pointing Fish." Between 1295 and 1302, Giovanni "Flavio" Gioja (if he existed: there is speculation that a typo gave credit to the wrong person) balanced the magnetized needle on a post over a compass rose and enclosed the whole thing in a box, eliminating the spillable-in-rough-seas bowl of water type.

The Muslim world, often ahead of Western Europe in scientific matters, does not make reference to the magnetic bowl-of-water compass until 1242. Muslims saw value in the device not just for marine navigation but also to determine how to face Mecca for prayer when far away from that city.

The magnetic compass allowed sailors to increase the season of safe navigation beyond the times of clear skies. More trading trips could be made during months that were typically clouded and more risky.

Alexander Neckham did more than observe a compass, however, and we'll look into him more tomorrow, including how he might have inadvertently given rise to the legend of Virgil's magic fly!

*Richard later gave Hodierna a generous pension.

Gerald and Henry's Sons

Gerald of Wales (c.1146 - 1223) wrote about Henry II and his sons, giving a different facet to the most prominent figures in England at the time. One of his character descriptions is of a man who was Henry II's son, his namesake, and his enemy: Henry the Young King, who rebelled against his father. Although Henry tried to usurp his father's throne, Gerald paints an admirable portrait of him:

In peace, and in private life, he was courteous, affable gentle, and amiable, kindly indulgent to those by whom he chanced to be injured, and far more disposed to forgive than to punish the offenders. His disposition was so good that he could never refuse to give anything that was fitting, thinking that no one ought to leave his presence sorrowful, or disappointed of his hopes. In short, he considered that he had lost a day when he had not secured the attachment of many by various acts of liberality, and bound them to him, body and soul, by multiplied favors conferred.

This amiable and generous nature changed when it was time for war:

When in arms and engaged in war, no sooner was the helmet on his head than he assumed a lofty air, and became impetuous, bold, and fiercer than any wild beast. His triumphs were often gained more by his valor than by fortune; and he was in all respects another Hector, son of Priam, except that the one fought on behalf of his father and his country, and the other, alas! was led by evil counsels to fight against both.

Henry's second son, Richard the Lionheart, did not fare so well in Gerald's eyes:

Different as were the habits and pursuits of the two brothers, sprung from the same stock and the same root, each has merited everlasting glory and endless fame. They were both tall in stature, rather above the middle size, and of commanding aspect. In courage and magnanimity they were nearly equal; but in the character of their virtues there v as a great disparity. One was admirable for gentleness and liberality, the other distinguished himself by his severity and firmness. The one had a commendable suavity, the other gravity. One was commended for his easy temper, the other for his determined spirit. One was remarkable for his clemency, the other for his justice. The vile and undeserving found their refuge in the one, their punishment from the other. One was the shield of bad men, the other the hammer to crush them. The one was bent on martial sports, the other on serious conflicts. The one bestowed his favours on foreigners, the other on his own people; the one on all the world, the other on the worthy only. The one's ambition magnanimously compassed the world; the other coveted, to good purpose, what was rightfully his own.

Geoffrey (prince of Brittany) and John (Prince of Ireland), get less attention; John especially seems to get the "we hope he will rise to the excellence of his brothers" treatment:

The Armorican-British and the Irish dominions proclaim the well-merited praises of the two others. Both of them were of rather short stature, a little below the middle height, and for their size were well-shaped enough. Of these, the one is already distinguished by his virtues, and has attained the highest honours; the other will. The one is well versed in military affairs; the other has to be instructed in them. ... The one is already great in action, the other leads us to expect he will be great; for not degenerating from his high origin, he has equaled his most noble brothers in worth as far as his powers admit.

Later in life, Gerald spent his time writing and making a few trips to Ireland and Rome. Some of his works were devotional instruction, but he did write a text designed to advise princes how to act. (I am tempted to think he wrote this because of his time spent with Prince John.) We'll take a closer look at his advice tomorrow.

Pontefract Castle

Pontefract Castle, where Richard II was imprisoned by his cousin (although for a very short time), had been begun very shortly after William the Conqueror took over England. He gave lands in 1070 to Ilbert and Walter de Lacy, who followed him from Normandy. Ilbert began Pontefract Castle, represented here by a model. There was a wooden structure there originally, refurbished in stone over time. The Domeday Book on 1086 calls it "Ilbert's castle."

A later de Lacy, Robert, did not support Henry I in his struggle with his brother, so Henry confiscated the castle in the 1100s. Under Richard Lionheart, Roger de Lacy paid 3000 marks for the privilege of inhabiting the castle, but Richard still owned it. When Richard's brother John came to power, he awarded Roger's loyalty by giving him the castle. By this time it was being called Pontefract.

The de Lacy family lived there until the early 1300s, but Henry de Lacy had only one daughter, "Poor" Alice, who married Thomas, the 2nd Earl of Lancaster. Pontefract became a Lancaster possession now. Thomas backed the wrong horse in the never-ending conflict between kings and would-be kings. He was convicted of treason without being allowed to speak in his own defense and executed at Pontefract on 22 March 1322.

Pontefract then passed to Thomas' brother, Henry Grosmont, the 3rd Earl of Lancaster, who was politically more savvy and eventually became one of the most respected and land-wealthy nobles in England. With his death, Pontefract came to his son-in-law, John of Gaunt. John's son Henry Bolingbroke should have inherited it, but at John's death an annoyed Richard II kept it along with all the other properties that should have gone to Henry. Henry mounted a campaign to get back what was rightfully his, but it snowballed into an outright rebellion against Richard, who was deposed and held in the Tower of London for awhile before being sent to Pontefract for incarceration. Not long after, Richard was dead (we are told from starvation).

Richard III, after the death of King Edward IV, had two men beheaded at Pontefract: the son and brother of Edward's wife, Elizabeth Woodville. When Henry VIII accused his fifth wife, Catherine Howard, of adultery with Sir Thomas Culpeper, it was thought that the affair began when the king and queen were staying at Pontefract.

A parliament under Oliver Cromwell decided that Pontefract should be demolished and the materials re-used. Now it is possible to see the cellars, but some renovation has taken place.

Henry Grosmont was, as mentioned respected and wealthy, and his death was mourned throughout England. Let's talk about what made him special next time.

Exchequer of the Jews

In 1194, Richard I of England created a system by which all financial transactions by Jews would be documented by the Crown. This system created an office that was subordinate to the Royal Exchequer, and became known as the Exchequer of the Jews.

His motivation was the Massacre at York, as well as the anti-semitic riots that took place at his own coronation.

I think it would be interesting to see part of the actual (translated) decree (ellipses and italics are mine):

All the debts, pledges, mortgages, lands, houses, rents, and possessions of the Jews shall be registered. The Jew who shall conceal any of these shall forfeit to the King his body and the thing concealed, and likewise all his possessions and chattels, ..., and there shall be appointed two lawyers that are Christians and two lawyers that are Jews, and two legal registrars, and before them and the clerks of William of the Church of St. Mary's and William of Chimilli, shall their contracts be made.

And charters shall be made of their contracts by way of indenture. And one part of the indenture shall remain with the Jew, sealed with the seal of him, to whom the money is lent, and the other part shall remain in the common chest: wherein there shall be three locks and keys, whereof the two Christians shall keep one key, and the two Jews another, and the clerks of William of the Church of St. Mary and of William of Chimilli shall keep the third. And moreover, there shall be three seals to it, and those who keep the seals shall put the seals thereto. 

... For every charter there shall be three pence paid, one moiety thereof by the Jews and the other moiety by him to whom the money is lent; whereof the two writers shall have two pence and the keeper of the roll the third. 

And from henceforth no contract shall be made with, nor payment, made to, the Jews, nor any alteration made in the charters, except before the said persons or the greater part of them, if all of them cannot be present. And the aforesaid two Christians shall have one roll of the debts or receipts of the payments which from henceforth are to be made to the Jews, and the two Jews one and the keeper of the roll one.

Moreover every Jew shall swear on his Roll, that all his debts and pledges and rents, and all his goods and his possessions, he shall cause to be enrolled, and that he shall conceal nothing as is aforesaid. And if he shall know that anyone shall conceal anything he shall secretly reveal it to the justices sent to them, and that they shall detect, and shew unto them all falsifiers or forgers of the charters and clippers of money, where or when they shall know them, and likewise all false charters.

The three sets of locks and keys eliminated the chance of tampering, since the chest holding the official documents could only be opened if all three possessors of the keys were present.

There were two major benefits to this decree: one to the Crown, and one to the Jewish population. The Crown would have records of every transaction and could use them to tax the Jews involved. The Jewish moneylenders also benefitted, because any debtor wishing to accuse the moneylender of unfairness, or who tried to get out of repayment, now had to deal with a moneylender with the full weight of the Royal Exchequer behind him.

An additional benefit to the Crown was that the death of a moneylender without heirs meant a faithful accounting of all the moneylender was owed was known and therefore could be collected ... by the Crown, of course.

Documents from this office are extant for 1219-20, 1244, 1253, and 1266-87. (In 1290, all Jews were expelled from England by Edward I, or made to convert.)

One of these documents, in 1233, has an unusual feature: it is illustrated. The illustration above is part of it. The whole drawing is interesting as one of the earliest examples of Jews shown in a negative depiction. We're going to look at it very carefully next time.

Ordinance of the Jewry

When Richard I of England was kidnapped coming back from the Third Crusade, the ransom was going to be enormous: 100,000 pounds of silver. This was 2-3 times the annual income to the English crown from taxation. Richard's mother, Eleanor of Aquitaine, worked hard to raise the money. Churches were taxed for one-quarter of the value of their property. William Longchamp, Richard's chancellor, raised 5000 marks from the Jewish community of England alone, which was more than three times what the City of London was required to offer.

When Richard got back to England, he looked at an anti-semitic massacre that happened in York, and decided to do something about it. That situation seemed to have been started deliberately by Christians who owed money to Jews and chose to start a pogrom to avoid having to settle their debts properly.

To be fair, Richard saw such situations as financial losses for himself. Lost revenue of a citizen meant being able to tax that citizen less. Richard decided that all transactions with Jews needed to be recorded by the Exchequer. His Ordinance of the Jewry in 1194 led to a new division of the Royal Exchequer called the Exchequer of the Jews.

This Exchequer required each transaction to be documented with a chirograph (literally "hand-written"). One part would be kept by the creditor, one part would be kept at the Exchequer. The benefit to the Jewish creditor was that a record of the debt was stored in a safe place and the person to whom the money was leant could not get out of repayment. There was a benefit for the Crown, as well. All transactions were liable to taxation. Moreover, Richard mandated to receive 10% of all debts collected with the aid of his courts. Curiously, with the king acting as "silent partner" to Jewish moneylenders, they had an advantage over Christian moneylenders whose accounts were not protected by the Exchequer. 

The Exchequer expanded beyond just debts, which we can look at tomorrow.

William Longchamp

William Longchamp (or "de Longchamp") achieved success the old-fashioned way: he paid lots of money for it. That's not fair; best to start at the beginning.

Little is known of his background, except that his family came from Longchamp in Normandy. A rival of his, Hugh Nonant, Bishop of Coventry, claimed William's grandfather was a peasant. This seems unlikely, since William's father Hugh held a knight's tenancy in Normandy, also land in England. (Nonant was Longchamp's opposite on many issues, such as the Becket affair and loyalty to Henry II's children.)

Near the end of Henry II's reign, Longchamp entered royal service for Henry's son Geoffrey (not Geoffrey Plantagenet, Duke of Brittany, who would join the rebellion against their father; the illegitimate one, who became Archbishop of York under Richard). That did not last long. Soon he was working in Henry's chancery, writing up documents, and later was working for Richard I, who made Longchamp Chancellor of Aquitaine, of which Richard was then the Duke. During a dispute between Richard and Henry's envoy, William Marshall, Longchamp was sent to Paris to represent Richard at the court of King Philip II.

When Richard became king, it might have seemed inevitable that he made the trusted and competent Longchamp Chancellor for England—once Longchamp paid £3000 for the privilege, that is. Longchamp would manage England's business while Richard ruled. One of those bits of business was the use of the Great Seal to authenticate documents, whose control and use was now in Longchamp's hands. Stamping a chancery document with the Great Seal incurred a fee, paid to the keeper of the Seal. The price of the Seal's use was raised at this time, perhaps to help Longchamp recoup the £3000 pounds.

Longchamp was also made Bishop of Ely, as well as Justiciar, able to act in the king's name in certain matters. He clashed with a co-justiciar, Hugh de Puiset, Bishop of Durham (who paid £1000 for that office), and so Richard split the country, giving Hugh authority over everything north of the Humber. (Hugh was a bit of a problem, exercising too much authority because the position of Archbishop of York had not been filed for awhile; once Richard placed his brother there, Hugh had a higher authority to whom he was forced to submit.)

One of Longchamp's first challenges after Richard left England was the Massacre at York, when about 150 Jews died after seeking refuge in Clifford's Tower. Richard had made it clear after the anti-semitic riot at his coronation that Jews were to be left in peace. Angry at the insult to the king's command, Longchamp marched to York and imposed heavy fine on 52 of its citizens. He banished Richard de Malbis and members of other families who had been leaders of the riot and massacre. Evidence showed that these individuals owed debts to the Jews, giving them motivation for their crimes.

There are some who blame Longchamp for harassment of the Jews, and yes, there was financial inequity because of Richard's kidnapping, but ultimately that led to Richard creating a system that he intended would stop the attempt to eliminate debt by eliminating the Jew to whom one owed the debt. In fact, Richard's plan gave Jewish moneylenders a slight advantage over Christian moneylenders. We'll go into all this next time.

Riot at the Coronation

During the coronation of Richard I, many citizens wanted to show their loyalty to the new king (and perhaps gain future favor) by giving him gifts. Not all citizens were welcome, however. Tradition meant not everyone was allowed to be part of or even witness the ceremony; for instance, women and non-Christians.

According to the Dean of St. Paul's Cathedral, Ralph of Diceto (c.1120 - c.1202), when some Jews arrived with gifts, they were stripped, flogged, and thrown from the building. To the people outside Westminster Abbey, the rumor spread that the new king disapproved of Jews and wanted them killed.

Riots began immediately. The Jewish population of London was attacked. Many of the homes in the area called Old Jewry were made of stone, and could withstand attacks by ordinary citizens, but the solution was to set them on fire, killing those within. (Some non-Jewish homes were destroyed by fire as well.) Some Jews were forced to convert to Christianity. Among those killed was Jacob of Orléans, a tosafist or author of commentaries on the Talmud, who had left France to teach in England. Some Jews escaped London, while some fled to the Tower of London to request sanctuary. Some were sheltered by Christian friends.

Richard was furious: no one wants the start of their reign to be marked by a massacre. His desire to punish the perpetrators was curtailed by the fact that there were so many and that some were prominent citizens. He chose to punish specifically the destruction of certain property. Roger of Hoveden describes it thusly:

On the day after the coronation, the king sent his servants, and caused those offenders to be arrested who had set fire to the city; not for the sake of the Jews, but on account of the houses and property of the Christians which they had burnt and plundered, and he ordered some of them to be hanged.

Although Richard seemed not to care about the destroyed Jewish homes, he did allow forcibly converted Jews to return to their chosen faith. He made a royal writ saying Jews should be left alone—he was concerned about what would happen when he left the country, since he had already pledged to go on Crusade.

When he went on Crusade shortly after, however, there were more examples of anti-semitism, which I will share tomorrow.

The Coronation of Richard I

Richard I of England was not his father. Not only did he rebel against his father and reject support of his father's favorites, but he was far more known for his love of pageantry than Henry II. His coronation on 3 September 1189—incidentally the first coronation of an English king for which we have a detailed account—was considered lavish. We have an eyewitness to this event: Roger of Hoveden, who worked for Henry II and stayed with Richard, including going on the 3rd Crusade.

One of Richard's first moves upon becoming king was to release his mother from house arrest. Since the revolt of Henry's sons in 1173-74, Eleanor of Aquitaine had been kept imprisoned (though in style) for 15 years. Eleanor's hand was likely in the coronation agenda: Richard was her favorite of their sons, and she had waited for this day for three decades.

It started with a long procession through London, ending in Westminster Abbey, where all the great barons and lords of England gathered to see their new king. Nobles in the procession carried items made of gold: swords, cups, spurs, a royal scepter. Once in the Abbey, Richard knelt before the altar and the assembled bishops and abbots of England. A Bible and saints' relics were placed before him. Then, according to Roger of Hoveden:

…. [Richard] swore that he would all the days of his life observe peace, honor, and reverence towards God, the Holy Church, and its ordinances.  He also swore that he would exercise true justice and equity towards the people committed to his charge.  He also swore that he would abrogate bad laws and unjust customs, if any such had been introduced into his kingdom, and would enact good laws, and observe the same without fraud or evil intent.

Then came the true moment when he would become king: the anointing. Attendants came forward to removed his clothing except for undergarments, and giving him sandals embroidered with gold to wear. He was wearing a special shirt designed to keep his right shoulder and his chest bare. Baldwin of Forde, the Archbishop of Canterbury (whom Richard had ordered months earlier to stop his radical re-organizing of their chapter house), anointed his head, chest, and arm.

Richard then donned consecrated linen and royal robes, spurs and a sword. The crown was sitting on the altar. Richard took it, handed it to Baldwin, and was formally crowned. (In fact, two earls held it above his head because of its weight.) Richard then sat himself on the throne, and a Mass of celebration was begun.

Roger of Hoveden continues:

The mass having been concluded, and all things solemnly performed, the two bishops before-named, one on the right hand the other on the left, led him back from the church to his chamber, crowned, and carrying a sceptre in his right hand and the rod of royalty in his left, the procession going in the same order as before. Then the procession returned to the choir, and our lord the king put off his royal crown and robes of royalty, and put on a crown and robes that were lighter; and, thus crowned, went to dine; on which the archbishops and bishops took their seats with him at the table, each according to his rank and dignity. The earls and barons also served in the king’s palace, according to their several dignities; while the citizens of London served in the cellars, and the citizens of Winchester in the kitchen.

It must have been a sight that no one present would forget. Unfortunately, nor would they be likely to forget the mayhem that followed when some "uninvited guests" came to pay their respects and offer gifts to the king. Riot and murder followed, but that is a story for next time. 

To Kidnap a King

On his way back from the Third Crusade, King Richard I "Lionheart" of England was captured.

He had made many enemies in Europe. The Byzantine Emperor Isaac II Angelos was one, because Richard annexed the Island of Corfu (a Byzantine possession). Holy Roman Emperor Henry VI was angered because Richard supported King Tancred of Sicily, who had usurped the position from its proper heiress, Henry's wife Constance. Leopold of Austria blamed Richard for the murder of Leopold's cousin, Conrad of Montferrat.

So when Richard's ship was wrecked near Aquileia and Richard had to travel over land to get back home, he passed through Vienna, enabling Leopold to capture him around Christmas 1192. Interfering with a Crusader was against papal decree, but Richard had also personally offended Leopold by getting rid of Leopold's banner on the walls of Acre, even though Leopold had been with him at the Siege of Acre. When word got out, Pope Celestine III excommunicated Leopold.

Word got back to England of Richard's captivity, but no one knew where he was being held. He was given over to Henry VI's care on 28 March 1193, who imprisoned him at Trifels Castle. Not only was Henry angered at Richard's previous actions, he also had a goal: conquering all of southern Italy. This required military might, and that required money. Holding a king for ransom was one sure way of acquiring funds.

Henry's status as Holy Roman Emperor made Celestine reluctant to excommunicate him. Richard's treatment was initially respectful, but Richard treated Henry with disdain. Henry convened a council to condemn Richard for the capture of Cyprus, the insult to Leopold, the death of Conrad, and making a truce with Saladin. Richard defended his actions, and explained his lack of respect for Henry's imperial title by saying "I am born in a rank which recognizes no superior but God."

Afterward, Richard was kept in chains "so heavy that a horse or ass would have struggled to move under them." Henry demanded a ransom of 150,000 marks (100,000 pounds of silver). Richard's mother, Eleanor of Aquitaine, now in her early 70s, took action, riding the country to raise funds and writing the pope about the horrible situation. A tax of 25% of the value of property was decreed against layman and all churches. Meanwhile, Richard's brother John and King Philip of France offered Henry 80,000 marks to keep Richard at least until Michaelmas 1194 (29 September in Europe).

Henry did something honorable and refused their offer. The ransom from England came through, and Richard was freed on 4 February 1194. (The illustration shows Richard kissing the feet of the emperor.) Upon his return to England he forgave John's actions and named John his heir (instead of their nephew Arthur, son of their brother Geoffrey).

And now for something completely different: Michaelmas. What was it about, and why did I have to specify "in Europe" above? I'll explain next time.

Henry VI of Germany

King Henry VI of Germany who survived the Erfurt Latrine Disaster went on to become Holy Roman. Emperor. He was the second son of Holy Roman Emperor Frederick I (called Barbarossa), and a member of the Hohenstaufen dynasty.

He was born in November 1165, and named King of Germany by his father in 1169. His father made him King of Italy in 1186, the same year that Henry married Constance of Sicily. Constance was the sole heiress of Sicily, but was challenged by her illegitimate nephew, Tancred. Tancred controlled Sicily (with some difficulty) until after 1191.

In 1191, Henry and Constance were proclaimed Holy Roman Emperor and Empress, and they turned their attention to Sicily. Their attempts to take over in Sicily were hampered by the locals' fear of retribution from Tancred if they aided Henry. Even after Tancred's death in February 1194, Sicily remained in his family's control, but in November Henry prevailed. He was named King of Sicily on Christmas Day.

Henry was considered well-educated, learning Latin as well as Roman and canon law. He wrote poetry and was a patron of poets. A German songbook from the 14th century, the Codex Manesse, has three poems attributed to Henry and has a portrait of him, shown above.

He interfered with English politics somewhat. Richard I of England had made an arrangement with Tancred, and so Henry tried to isolate England: he negotiated with Richard's mother, Eleanor of Aquitaine, to break off the engagement of Richard with Alys, daughter of Louis VII of France.

Henry had an even more significant encounter with Richard in 1193, when Richard became Henry's prisoner. More on that tomorrow.

Divine Right of Kings

The Protestant Reformation in the 1500s undermined the authority of and people's faith in the pope and the Catholic Church. This was a boon to temporal authorities, as people increasingly looked to kings for guidance. The king was considered to be answerable for his decisions and behavior to no one but God. (Eventually, of course, the lack of limits in a ruler came under question, since it removes any power from the people, and the revolutions of the late 1700s dealt with this.)

While it lasted, however, the notion of the divine right of kings was beneficial to the tiny percentage of the human population that could take advantage of it.

For Christians and Jews, a passage in Deuteronomy was crucial:

When you come to the land that the Lord your God is giving you, and you possess it and dwell in it and then say, 'I will set a king over me, like all the nations that are around me,' 15 you may indeed set a king over you whom the Lord your God will choose. One from among your brothers you shall set as king over you. You may not put a foreigner over you, who is not your brother." (Deuteronomy, 17:14-15)

Debates took place over whether this meant the people choose a king, or whether their choice is an example of God's will being made manifest. In fact, Jewish law requires a blessing upon seeing a monarch: "Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, Who has given from His glory to flesh and blood." This suggests that the monarch has God's support.

Medieval Europe was willing to accept that God gave the ruler complete temporal authority, just as the Pope had complete spiritual authority. Richard I of England declared in 1193 "I am born in a rank which recognizes no superior but God, to whom alone I am responsible for my actions," and first used the phrase (still the motto of the monarch of the United Kingdom) Dieu et mon droit (French: "God and my right"). This is the origin of the pluralis majestatis, the "royal we" used by potentates, to indicate that they and God are speaking. Richard's Chancellor, William Longchamp, introduced the use of the plural into documents he produced during Richard's reign.

Henry VIII took this one step further (too far?) when he declared himself head of the Church in England. James VI /I of Scotland/England heavily promoted the divine right theory—although Scotland had always seen the king as simply "first among equals"—as did Louis XIV of France. James used a passage from Romans 13 about "God's ministers" to support his idea of divine right.

The earliest reference to divine rulership takes place long before James, or even Richard. Tomorrow we'll talk about Adomnán of Iona.

The End of Barbarossa

You are Frederick I, offspring of two of Germany's most powerful families. As a young man, you went on Crusade and distinguished yourself in battle. You become King of Germany and King of Italy. As Holy Roman Emperor, you attempt to re-establish the extent of the Roman Empire. Your help is requested for a Third Crusade, "the most meticulously planned and organized" of any Crusade up until then. The approach of your army so unnerves Saladin that he divides his forces, currently trying to lift the Siege of Acre imposed by Richard Lionheart of England.

Meanwhile, your forces proceed through the Armenian Kingdom of Cilicia, reaching the Saleph River (now called the Göksu in Turkey on a plateau in the Taurus Mountains). The army is sent along a mountain path, while you decide on a shortcut advised by the locals: simply cross the river on your horse.

Holy Roman Emperor Frederick I, called Barbarossa, drowned in the Saleph on 10 June 1190.

Accounts vary. A biography written within a few years of Frederick's death says he chose to swim the river—possible, but he was 68 years old at the time—and was swept away. A churchman who was with the Crusade says it was a simple swim to refresh himself, but the old man encountered an unexpected current (illustrated in a manuscript of the Saxon Chronicle above). Another says he was thrown from his horse and weighed down by his armor. A contemporary chronicler claims God saved them from an evil man by drowning him in shallow water while the emperor was washing himself.

Whatever the case, the body was subjected to mos Teutonicus, thousands of German soldiers abandoned the Crusade and went home, and Philip of France took the rest to the Holy land where he shared command of the Crusade with Richard I of England, with whom he was not on friendly terms.

Frederick's reputation was such that he is one of those characters who passed into legend, specifically that he is not dead but lies sleeping (like Arthur, with attendants) until such time as his country needs him, either in the Kyffhäuser Mountains in Thuringia or Untersberg. The signal for his revival will be the disappearance of ravens flying around the mountain. His red beard continues to grow, his eyes are only half-shut, and occasionally his hand raises, signaling a boy to go outside and see if the ravens are still flying.

Germany never lost its interest in Barbarossa. The Kyffhäuser Monument (also called Barbarossa Monument) was erected on the anniversary of Frederick's coronation in 1896 to commemorate him and Kaiser Wilhelm I, who was declared the reincarnation of Barbarossa. Hitler named his invasion of the Soviet Union "Operation Barbarossa," although originally called "Operation Otto" after Otto the Great.

These recent posts have, of course, told barely one percent of the extensive accomplishments of Barbarossa. Tomorrow I want to dip into one of his other actions: the revival of the Roman Justinian Code.

The Bastard Archbishop

When Henry II died, his eldest son living was Geoffrey. Geoffrey was not in a position to ascend to the throne, however, because he was illegitimate. Henry had taken care of him with ecclesiastical positions, but Geoffrey had refused to be ordained a priest, even though he had been named a bishop. He had finally resigned the bishopric and became Henry's chancellor. His name appears in only a few official documents between 1182 and 1185, however. As with his religious positions, he had shown himself to be less than enthusiastic about carrying out any associated duties. As chancellor he had a keeper of the seal to authorize documents, freeing him up from daily obligations.

Henry's dying wish was that Geoffrey be made Bishop of Winchester or Archbishop of York (ecclesiastically equal to, but traditionally subordinate to, the Archbishop of Canterbury). The next king, Richard I, made Geoffrey Archbishop of York on 20 July 1189. Richard's magnanimity was motivated by a desire to keep Geoffrey from aspiring to a place at Court. Even if he did not aspire to the throne, he had served their father by leading the army, and might be persuaded to stir up trouble against Richard. It also showed Henry's supporters that Richard, who had rebelled against his father more than once, was willing to respect Henry's wishes. Moreover, it justified Richard removing Geoffrey from the position of chancellor.

With Geoffrey's major supporter dead, however, life was not going to be easy. Richard did not trust him, and made Geoffrey pledge to live outside of England while Richard was on Crusade. Also, York already had an archbishop: Hubert Walter had been voted archbishop by the cathedral chapter, supported by Eleanor of Aquitaine. It is possible that Eleanor opposed privileges for Geoffrey because he was a product of her late husband's illegitimate affairs. Richard also appointed some positions that would normally be made by the archbishop, to which Geoffrey objected. Richard responded by confiscating lands that belonged to Geoffrey's position, saying he would return them when Geoffrey agreed to be ordained and become a proper priest and prelate. Richard was further ensconcing Geoffrey into the church structure to keep him away from the throne, and showing the kingdom not to mess with him, since he could be strict even with his relatives. Even returning the lands to him required Geoffrey pay Richard a fine of £2000.

Geoffrey's troubles were far from over. Although Richard had given him time to pay the fine, it took so long (there were elements hostile to Geoffrey that hampered his efforts), that Richard finally re-confiscated the lands and increased the fine. Because Geoffrey's ordination took place at Tours, France, there were those who rejected his authority because he had not been consecrated as archbishop by the Archbishop of Canterbury. He was even arrested and imprisoned in Dover Castle by the current chancellor, William Longchamp, who claimed that Geoffrey had not pledged loyalty to Richard. Fortunately for Geoffrey, an archbishop imprisoned by an agent of the king invoked memories of Thomas Becket's death, and there was an outcry against Longchamp's actions.

Then, in 1199, Richard died, and John became king. John had not joined his brothers in their rebellions against Henry, and often appeared to be Henry's favorite. So how did he deal with his father's "other" favorite? I'll talk about that, and Geoffrey's final fate, tomorrow.

Young Henry's Revolt, 1173

Henry II had conflicts with the Scotland, with Ireland, with Wales, with France, but the most difficult conflicts may have been with his family.

The Norman practice of not only naming but formally elevating your heir led to Henry's eldest son, Henry, was formally made "king" and known as Henry, the Young King. At 18, Henry was well-liked and admired, but he had a problem: he was living like a king, with a retinue of knights and followers who wanted to be with the next monarch, but he had no revenues. Revenues come from the taxes on property, and his father kept tight control of England, Normandy, and Anjou. His mother, Eleanor, held the enormous Aquitaine. Young Henry stood to inherit a vast area, but he wanted it sooner. Then his father gave three castles, that would have belonged to young Henry, to Prince John. Eleanor and others urged Henry to rebel

His solution was ironic: give his future kingdom away in order to rule it. He promised territories to several counts of areas on the continent if they would support him in overthrowing his father. Henry senior's reputation had been severely tarnished by the killing of Thomas Becket in 1170; in 1173, people were still outraged.

Young Henry went to the court of King Louis VII of France, whose daughter he had married, to plan. His brothers Richard (Lionheart) and Geoffrey joined him (likely also upset at the preference shown to the youngest brother John). The first step was in March of 1173 when young Henry and his allies attacked Normandy from three sides. It was a failure. Loyal Norman forces repelled them and killed the Count of Boulogne.

The next phase took place when the Earl of Leicester took an army of Flemish mercenaries to England ... and was soundly defeated. Danger from the north was next: forces from Scotland in the spring of 1174 invaded northern England.

Then something happened that would not initially seem to be related to the war, but may have had an effect. Henry II, crossing from Normandy back to England in July, stopped at Canterbury Cathedral and did penance before the tomb of Thomas Becket, whose murder people felt as Henry's fault. The very next day, loyalists in northern England captured the Scottish forces. That was the end of the revolt. Henry II destroyed the castles of several of the nobles who supported his son. Young Henry, Richard, and Geoffrey all re-pledged their loyalty to the father.

Besides Prince John, there was another son who did not have cause to join the rebellion. This was another Geoffrey, who was illegitimate and possibly older than the rest. This Geoffrey had different ambitions, which were to be realized if he just kept his place and stayed the course. Tomorrow we'll talk about just how far a bastard son o a king could go.

The Angevin Empire

When King Stephen I of England died in 1154, the terms of the Treaty of Wallingford meant his rival's son would inherit the throne. Henry of Anjou became King Henry II of England and started the Angevin Empire. So what made it an empire? How large was it?

Well, England, of course, in which Henry had his grandest title of king, and also parts of Ireland and Wales. Through Henry's father, Geoffrey of Anjou, he was also Count of Anjou. Also, since Geoffrey took over Normandy not long before, Henry was Duke of Normandy. Moreover, because Henry married Eleanor of Aquitaine in 1152—who divorced the King of France to do so—he had Aquitaine.

The term "Angevin" was coined in 1887 by a British historian, based on "Anjou." Henry and his successors (sons Richard and John and John's son Henry III) would refer in documents to "our kingdom and everything subject to our rule whatever it may be" and never called it an empire or referred to themselves as Angevin. Technically, they were all Plantagenets.

Plantagenet was Geoffrey of Anjou's nickname. The plantagenet was the common broom, a flowering plant with bright yellow blossoms. Geoffrey was also known as Geoffrey the Handsome or the Fair. Perhaps his hair was lighter than typical, and the comparison to the golden flowers of the broom prompted the nickname. Even so, like the term "Angevin," it wasn't until Richard, 3rd Duke of York adopted Plantagenet as his family name during the Wars of the Roses that the term become attached to the whole hereditary line. It seems that Richard was linking himself to his ancestor Geoffrey in order to emphasize his proper place in the line of succession.

Extensive holdings on the continent (and perhaps spite, since Eleanor had abandoned being queen in France to become Queen Eleanor of England), made France a little hostile to the Angevin Empire. The problem created by Duke William of Normandy when he became King William of England in 1066 remained: how does a king of a country (England) react when he is likewise a lesser title (duke, count) in another country (France) and therefore subordinate to a king? That political oddity would define the English-French relationship for centuries.

It also calls into question the term "empire." To truly be an empire requires a centralized government and consistent laws and regulations throughout the territories. The varying laws and customs of the various Angevin territories were at odds with this definition.

Whether it was an empire like the Roman Empire or the medieval Holy Roman Empire, it didn't last more than a generation or two. Its demise will be the subject of the next post.

Muslim Massacre

I have written about Muslim-Christian relations before (here and here). Conflict between the forces of Western European culture and the Arab world has been going on for centuries, with atrocities on both sides. One of the earliest atrocities was committed by King Richard I, called Lionheart.

Ayyadieh
After the fall of Acre during the Third Crusade, there was an agreement between Richard and his opponent, Saladin, to exchange prisoners.  Richard was willing to give up about 2700 hostages (men including soldiers, women, children) taken in Acre for 1600 Christian hostages held by Saladin. Richard also demanded 100,000 gold pieces and the True Cross.

Richard was an impatient man at best, and he wanted Saladin to release the Christian hostages first. Saladin, a powerful and proud man in his own right, of course demanded in turn that Richard release the citizens of Acre. Negotiations broke down. Richard decided to teach Saladin a lesson in delaying the fulfillment of Richard's demands.

On either August 16th or 20th, 1191, Richard had his captives to a hill called Ayyadieh, where they were in sight of Saladin's army. He had them all put to death. This enraged the watching army, who charged the Crusaders. Richard, however, had plenty of forces there, and they were able to retreat safely into the city.

An eyewitness Kurdish chronicler in Saladin's army, Baha ad-Din ibn Shaddad, claimed in his chronicle that many Crusaders did not approve of this particularly callous treatment of prisoners. Christian chroniclers do not mention that there were women and children, leading the reader to assume that only soldiers were massacred.

Saladin, outraged, and also know for harsh treatment of his hostages, had his Christian prisoners executed. The True Cross was sent to "Damascus, where it was said to be buried under the portals of the chief mosque." (The Dream and the Tomb: A History of the Crusades, by Robert Payne, p.239)