Crusades [2]

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An Ashgate Book

Crusades Volume 2, 2003

Crusades Edited by Benjamin Z. Kedar and Jonathan S.C. Riley-Smith with Helen J. Nicholson Editorial Board Benjamin Z. Kedar (Editor; Hebrew University, Jerusalem, Israel) Jonathan Riley-Smith (Editor; University of Cambridge, U.K.) Helen J. Nicholson (Associate Editor; Cardiff University, U.K.) Christoph T. Maier (Reviews Editor; University of Zurich, Switzerland) Karl Borchardt (Bulletin Editor; University of Würzburg, Germany) Michel Balard (University of Paris I, France) James A. Brundage (University of Kansas, U.S.A.) Robert Cook (University of Virginia, U.S.A.) Jaroslav Folda (University of North Carolina, U.S.A.) Robert B.C. Huygens (University of Leiden, The Netherlands) David Jacoby (Hebrew University, Jerusalem, Israel) Catherine Otten (University of Strasbourg, France) Jean Richard (Institut de France) Crusades is published annually for the Society for the Study of the Crusades and the Latin East by Ashgate. A statement of the aims of the Society and details of membership can be found following the Bulletin at the end of the volume. Manuscripts should be sent to either of the Editors in accordance with the guidelines for submission of papers on p. 255. Subscriptions: Crusades (ISSN 1476–5276) is published annually in July. Subscriptions are available on an annual basis and are fixed, until after volume 3 (2004), at £65, and £20 for members of the Society. Prices include postage by surface mail. Enquiries concerning members’ subscriptions should be addressed to the Treasurer, Dr Tom Asbridge (see p. 257). All other orders and enquiries should be addressed to: Subscription Department, Ashgate Publishing Ltd, Gower House, Croft Road, Aldershot, Hants GU11 3HR, U.K.; tel.: +44 (0)1252 331551; fax: +44 (0) 1252 344405; email: [email protected]. Requests for Permissions and Copying: requests should be addressed to the Publishers: Permissions Department, Ashgate Publishing Ltd, Gower House, Croft Road, Aldershot, Hants GU11 3HR, U.K.; tel.: +44 (0)1252 331551; fax: +44 (0)1252 344405; email: [email protected]. The journal is also registered in the U.S.A. with the Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Danvers MA 01923, U.S.A.; tel.: +1 (978) 750 8400; fax: +1 (978) 750 4470; email: [email protected] and in the U.K. with the Copyright Licensing Agency, 90 Tottenham Court Road, London, W1P 9HE; tel.: +44 (0)207 436 5931; fax: +44 (0)207 631 5500.

Crusades Volume 2, 2003

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CONTENTS Abbreviations

vii

ARTICLES AND STUDIES De la paix de Dieu à la croisade? Un réexamen Jean Flori

1

Memoria e memorie di un cavaliere: Caffaro di Genova Gabriella Airaldi

25

Regards croisés sur l’épopée française et le destân turc Tivadar Palágyi

41

Sclavorum expugnator: Conquest, Crusade, and Danish Royal Ideology in the Twelfth Century Janus Møller Jensen

55

Frontier Activities: the Transformation of a Muslim Sacred Site into the Frankish Castle of Vadum Iacob Ronnie Ellenblum

83

Papal Policy and the Albigensian Crusades: Continuity or Change? Rebecca Rist Pouvoir royal et patriarcat au temps de la Cinquième Croisade, à propos du rapport du patriarche Raoul Jean Richard Hospitaller Birgu: 1530–1536 Anthony Luttrell

99

109 121

Islam and the Crusades in History and Imagination, 8 November 1898– 11 September 2001 Jonathan Riley-Smith

151

REVIEWS Alfred J. Andrea, Contemporary Sources for the Fourth Crusade (Jonathan Harris)

v

169

vi

CONTENTS

Baha al-Din Ibn Shaddad, The Rare and Excellent History of Saladin (al-Nawadir al-Sultaniyya wa’l-Mahasin al-Yusufiyya), trans. D. S. Richards (Hugh Kennedy) The Crusades and the Military Orders. Expanding the Frontiers of Medieval Latin Christianity, ed. Zsolt Hunyadi and Jószef Laszlovsky (Marie-Luise Favreau-Lilie) Åãêõêëïðáéäéêü Ðñïóùðïãñáöéêü Ëåîéêü ÂõæáíôéíÞò Éóôïñßáò êáé Ðïëéôéóìïý (= Encyclopaedic Prosopographical Lexicon of Byzantine History and Civilisation), ed. Alexis G. C. Savvides (Aphrodite Papayianni) Gendering the Crusades, ed. Susan B. Edgington and Sarah Lambert (Christoph T. Maier) W. Scott Jessee, Robert the Burgundian and the Counts of Anjou, ca. 1025–1098 (Marcus Bull) Beverley Mayne Kienzle, Cistercians, Heresy and Crusade in Occitania, 1145–1229 (Christoph T. Maier) Antony Leopold, How to Recover the Holy Land: The Crusade Proposals of the Late Thirteenth and Early Fourteenth Centuries (Sylvia Schein) Mediterraneo medievale: Cristiani, musulmani ed eretici tra Europa e Oltremare, ed. Marco Meschini; Tolerance and Intolerance: Social Conflict in the Age of the Crusades, ed. Michael Gervers and James M. Powell (John V. Tolan) A Middle English Chronicle of the First Crusade: The Caxton Eracles, ed. and trans. Dana Cushing (Susan B. Edgington) Alexios G. C. Savvides and Benjamin Hendrickx, Introducing Byzantine History (A Manual for Beginners) (Aphrodite Papayianni) The Second Crusade: Scope and Consequences, ed. Jonathan Phillips and Martin Hoch (Andrew Jotischky) Elizabeth Siberry, The New Crusaders: Images of the Crusades in the 19th and Early 20th Centuries (James M. Powell) Karen Skovgaard-Petersen, A Journey to the Promised Land: Crusading Theology in the Historia de profectione Danorum in Hierosolymam (c. 1200) (Ane L. Bysted)

171 172

174 175 178 179 181

182 185 187 189 191 192

Bulletin no. 23 of the SSCLE

195

Guidelines for the Submission of Papers

255

Membership Information

257

Abbreviations AOL Autour

Archives de l’Orient latin Autour de la Première Croisade. Actes du colloque de la Society for the Study of the Crusades and the Latin East: Clermont-Ferrand, 22–25 juin 1995, ed. Michel Balard. Paris, 1996 Cart Hosp Cartulaire général de l’ordre des Hospitaliers de Saint-Jean de Jérusalem, 1100–1310, ed. Joseph Delaville Le Roulx. 4 vols. Paris, 1884–1906 Cart St Sép Le Cartulaire du chapitre du Saint-Sépulcre de Jerusalem, ed. Geneviève Bresc-Bautier, Documents relatifs à l’histoire des croisades 15. Paris, 1984 Cart Tem Cartulaire général de l’ordre du Temple 1119?–1150. Recueil des chartes et des bulles relatives à l’ordre du Temple, ed. Guigue A.M. J. A. Marquis d’Albon. Paris, 1913 CCCM Corpus Christianorum. Continuatio Mediaevalis Chartes Josaphat Chartes de la Terre Sainte provenant de l’abbaye de NotreDame de Josaphat, ed. Henri F. Delaborde, Bibliothèque des Écoles françaises d’Athènes et de Rome 19. Paris, 1880 Clermont From Clermont to Jerusalem: The Crusades and Crusader Societies 1095–1500. Selected proceedings of the International Medieval Congress, University of Leeds, 10–13 July 1995, ed. Alan V. Murray. International Medieval Research 3. Turnhout, 1998 Crusade Sources The Crusades and their Sources: Essays Presented to Bernard Hamilton, ed. John France and William G. Zajac. Aldershot, 1998 Crusades A History of the Crusades, general editor Kenneth M. Setton, 2nd edn, 6 vols. Madison, 1969–89 CS Crusade and Settlement: Papers read at the First Conference of the Society for the Study of the Crusades and the Latin East and presented to R.C. Smail, ed. Peter W. Edbury. Cardiff, 1985 CSEL Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum Horns The Horns of Hattin, ed. Benjamin Z. Kedar. Jerusalem and London, 1992 Kreuzfahrerstaaten Die Kreuzfahrerstaaten als multikulturelle Gesellschaft. Einwanderer und Minderheiten im 12. und 13. Jahrhundert, ed. Hans Eberhard Mayer with Elisabeth Miiller-Luckner. Schriften des Historischen Kollegs, Kolloquien 3. Munich, 1997 vii

viii Mansi. Concilia MGH MO, 1 MO, 2 Montjoie Outremer

PG PL PPTS RHC Darm Oc Or RIS NS ROL RRH RRH Add RS WT

ABBREVIATIONS

Giovanni D. Mansi, Sacrorum conciliorum nova et amplissima collectio Monumenta Germaniae Historica The Military Orders: Fighting for the Faith and Caring for the Sick, ed. Malcolm Barber. Aldershot, 1994 The Military Orders, vol. 2: Welfare and Warfare, ed. Helen Nicholson. Aldershot, 1998 Montjoie: Studies in Crusade History in Honour of Hans Eberhard Mayer, ed. Benjamin Z. Kedar, Jonathan RileySmith and Rudolf Hiestand. Aldershot, 1997 Outremer. Studies in the History of the Crusading Kingdom of Jerusalem Presented to Joshua Prawer, ed. Benjamin Z. Kedar, Hans E. Mayer and Raymond C. Smail. Jerusalem, 1982 Patrologia Graeca Patrologia Latina Palestine Pilgrims’ Text Society Library Recueil des Historiens des Croisades Documents armeniens Historiens occidentaux Historiens orientaux Rerum Italicarum Scriptores New Series Revue de l’Orient latin Reinhold Röhricht, comp., Regesta regni hierosolymitani. Innsbruck, 1893 Reinhold Rohricht, comp., Additamentum. Innsbruck, 1904 Rolls Series William of Tyre, Chronicon, ed. Robert B. C. Huygens, with Hans E. Mayer and Gerhard Rosch, CCCM 63–63A. Turnhout, 1986

De la paix de Dieu à la croisade? Un réexamen Jean Flori Docteur d’État des Lettres et Sciences Humaines Dans un article publié il y a une dizaine d’années sous un titre voisin de celui-ci,1 j’entendais contester une orientation historiographique qui, alors, commençait à prendre de l’ampleur: celle qui, privilégiant de façon à mes yeux excessive la dimension de pélerinage de la première croisade, négligeait ou minimisait son autre dimension, la guerre sainte, ou plus exactement la sacralisation de la guerre prêchée par l’Eglise pour la défense de ses intérêts. Ce même titre a été repris cinq ans plus tard par H. E. J. Cowdrey dans une perspective voisine.2 Il faut pourtant y revenir, ne serait-ce qu’à la lumière du débat qui, récemment, a éclairé d’un jour nouveau l’interprétation des institutions de paix. La paix de Dieu et les historiens de la croisade La paix de Dieu était jusqu’alors perçue de manière quasiment unanime comme une tentative de l’Eglise destinée à limiter les troubles et méfaits commis par les chevaliers (milites) dans une société féodale semi-anarchique résultant, à l’approche de l’an mil, de l’affaiblissement du pouvoir central, particulièrement en France. A la désintégration politique de l’empire carolingien, dès la fin du IXe siècle, aurait succédé le “temps des principautés”, faisant glisser la réalité du pouvoir au niveau des principautés territoriales, puis “le temps des châtellenies”, selon l’expression de G. Duby, marqué par l’émancipation des châtelains et l’essor des chevaliers.3 Prenant acte de la défaillance des pouvoirs publics, et en particulier celle du roi de France dont J. F. Lemarignier soulignait le rapide déclin,4 l’Eglise aurait alors tenté de se substituer au pouvoir “civil” défaillant pour inculquer, à défaut de discipline imposée d’en haut, des règles morales aux guerriers, aux chevaliers (milites) que nulle contrainte, alors, ne venait plus brimer, érigeant, par les institutions de paix, une “morale de la guerre” condamnant la violence, les exactions

1

Jean Flori, “L’Eglise et la guerre sainte, de la paix de Dieu à la croisade”, Annales E.S.C. 47 (1992), 88–99. 2 Herbert E. J. Cowdrey, “From the Peace of God to the First Crusade”, dans La primera cruzada novecientos años despuès: el concilio de Clermont y los orígenes del movimiento cruzado, éd. Luis Garcia-Guijarro Ramos (Castello d’Impressio, 1997), p. 51–61. 3 Voir en particulier Georges Duby, La société aux XIème et XIIème siècles dans la région mâconnaise (Paris, 1953) (2ème éd. 1971). 4 Jean-François Lemarignier, Le gouvernement royal aux premiers temps capétiens (987–1108) (Paris, 1965).

1

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et le pillage. La paix de Dieu, en protégeant les inermes, les faibles, aurait légitimé, en compensation, l’exploitation seigneuriale, prix de la sécurité offerte aux travailleurs.5 La trève de Dieu aurait fait un pas de plus en réduisant les périodes licites pour se livrer à la guerre, proposant ainsi une ascèse aux chevaliers.6 Dans cette interprétation devenue classique, la paix de Dieu se trouvait reliée à deux phénomènes concomitants: la féodalité d’une part, avec ses composantes anarchiques et violentes, exprimées vers l’an mil par la “mutation féodale”, caractérisée par la montée des châtellenies et la violence débridée des seigneurs et des milites; la chevalerie d’autre part, l’ordre des guerriers que l’Eglise valorise en reconnaissant en lui l’un des trois ordres utiles à la société, et qu’elle cherche à sanctifier en la mettant à son service et en lui assignant des objectifs précis. Cette dernière idée concernant la chevalerie est plus ancienne encore: elle remonte pour le moins au XIXe siècle, exprimée par L. Gautier, qui parlait des dix commandements de la chevalerie.7 E. Delaruelle l’exprimait en des termes très forts, proches de la formule; pour lui, “le chevalier, c’est le soldat chrétien”, non pas une condition sociale, mais un idéal.8 Ainsi, ajoutait-il, “on entre en chevalerie comme on entre en religion”, par l’adoubement. L’Eglise aurait imposé l’idéal chevaleresque qui consiste à lutter contre les ennemis du dehors et du dedans, à l’extérieur par la guerre sainte contre les infidèles, à l’intérieur contre les violateurs de la paix de Dieu. La chevalerie aurait eu pour fonction de défendre la chrétienté et, ce faisant, de gagner son salut. Chevalerie, paix de Dieu et croisade seraient donc trois formes diverses d’une même initiative de l’Eglise pour pallier la défaillance royale. Ainsi, la croisade n’est pas seulement un “moyen de paix”, elle est une paix.9 J. Prawer reprend à son compte cette double interprétation: pour lui, sous l’influence de l’idéal chevaleresque, “le miles guerrier devint le miles christianus, guerrier chrétien, le chevalier”; la chevalerie serait “internationale, pan-chrétienne”, et l’adoubement, de plus en plus répandu au XIe siècle, marquerait un engagement volontaire, l’entrée dans une élite morale. L’Eglise lui assigne une fonction: “la lutte contre les bandits, les pillards, les assassins, contre tous ceux qui attaquent le faible et ceux qui touchent aux biens d’Eglise”. Ainsi, conclut-il, “la classe des guerriers se

5 Voir en particulier Georges Duby, Guerriers et paysans, VIIème–XIIème siècle (Paris, 1973), p. 185ss. 6 Georges Duby, “Les laïcs et la paix de Dieu: I Laici nella ‘societas christiana’ dei secoli XI e XII”, Atti della terza Settimana internazionale di Studio, Mendola, 21–27 agosto, 1965 (Milan, 1968), p. 448–69. 7 Léon Gautier, La chevalerie (Paris, 1884). 8 Etienne Delaruelle, Histoire du catholicisme (section I: Des origines à la chrétienté médiévale) (Paris, 1957), p. 238, 245 et passim. 9 Voir en particulier Etienne Delaruelle, “Essai sur la formation de l’idée de croisade”, Bulletin de littérature ecclésiastique 45 (1944), 13–46; Etienne Delaruelle, “Paix de Dieu et Croisade dans la chrétienté du XIIème siècle”, dans Paix de Dieu et guerre sainte en Languedoc au XIIIème siècle, Cahiers de Fanjeaux no 4 (1969), 51–71.

DE LA PAIX DE DIEU À LA CROISADE?

3

joignit au mouvement de ‘la Paix de Dieu’ (Pax Dei), qui, au début du XIe siècle, tenta de faire régner l’ordre dans diverses régions de la France”.10 Les études récentes concernant la chevalerie conduisent à rectifier cette perception sur de nombreux points fondamentaux.11 Ainsi, la chevalerie n’est pas, au XIe siècle, une entité séparée de l’ensemble de l’ordo militum, entité dans laquelle les guerriers pieux se seraient volontairement, par l’adoubement (cérémonie facultative), engagés à mettre leur épée au service des nobles causes de l’Eglise. L’adoubement, c’est le signe de l’entrée dans la profession des armes, celle des guerriers à cheval, au service des pouvoirs constitués, rois, princes ou châtelains qui les recrutent et qu’ils servent. Certes, comme je crois l’avoir montré, l’Eglise tente bien, par de multiples moyens, d’infuser ses propres valeurs dans la profession, entre autres par les traités didactiques, et plus encore par la liturgie. L’un des meilleurs moyens consiste en effet à développer et sacraliser pour la chevalerie les rites de l’adoubement, dont les prières et bénédictions, issues des cérémonies du sacre royal, sont très riches en éléments éthiques,12 pour faire ainsi glisser sur les chevaliers dans leur ensemble les devoirs qui jadis incombaient aux rois; de leur faire croire, en définitive, qu’ils doivent se sentir au service de l’Eglise par le seul fait que l’épée qui leur est concédée lors de l’adoubement a été prise sur l’autel. Mais ce sont là des “récupérations” relativement tardives, des constructions idéologiques postérieures à la paix de Dieu et même à la croisade: elles se développent surtout au XIIe siècle, et s’expriment chez Jean de Salisbury.13 La chevalerie ne mène donc pas directement à la croisade. Croisade et chevalerie ont des idéologies distinctes, voire opposées.14 Urbain II le sait: il ne demande pas aux chevaliers de se croiser au nom d’un idéal chevaleresque – établi et reçu – qui devrait les conduire à servir l’Eglise, mais bien au contraire de quitter la chevalerie et de tourner le dos à ses motivations séculières; plus tard, Bernard de Clairvaux en 10

Joshua Prawer, Histoire du royaume latin de Jérusalem, 2 vols (Paris, 1969), 1:139–41. Voir sur ce point Franco Cardini, Alle radici della cavalleria medievale (Florence, 1982); Jean Flori, L’idéologie du glaive. Préhistoire de la chevalerie (Genève, 1983); Maurice Keen, Chivalry (London, 1984); Jean Flori, L’essor de la chevalerie, 11ème–12ème siècle (Genève, 1986); A. Barbero, L’aristocrazia nella società francese del medioevo (Bologna, 1987); Peter R. Coss, The Knight in Medieval England, 1000–1400 (Stroud, 1993). 12 Voir Jean Flori, “Chevalerie et liturgie; remise des armes et vocabulaire chevaleresque dans les sources liturgiques du 9ème au 14ème siècle”, Le Moyen Age 84 (1978), 247–78, 409–42; Jean Flori, “A propos de l’adoubement des chevaliers au 11ème siècle: le prétendu Pontifical de Reims et l’ordo ad armandum de Cambrai”, Frühmittelalterliche Studien 19 (1985), 330–49; Jean Flori, “Du nouveau sur l’adoubement des chevaliers (11ème–12ème s.)”, Le Moyen Age 91 (1985), 201–26. Voir aussi Dominique Barthélémy, “Note sur l’adoubement dans la France des XIème et XIIème siècles”, Les âges de la vie au Moyen Age (Paris, 1992), p. 108–17, qui interprète très différemment l’adoubement et la chevalerie, mais ne met pas pour autant celle-ci au service de l’Eglise. 13 Cf. Jean Flori, “La chevalerie selon Jean de Salisbury”, Revue d’histoire ecclésiastique 77 (1982), 35–77. 14 Voir sur ce point Jean Flori, “Croisade et chevalerie; convergence idéologique ou rupture?”, dans Femmes, Mariages, Lignages (XIIème–XIIIème siècles), Mélanges offerts à Georges Duby (Bruxelles, 1992), p. 157–76. 11

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tirera plus encore la leçon en opposant à la chevalerie (militia) la nouvelle milice, celle des Templiers, à la fois moines et croisés permanents. M. Bull a donc raison, s’appuyant sur mes propres conclusions en ce domaine, de considérer que la chevalerie n’a pas encore, en 1095, d’éthique cohérente, et de chercher ailleurs les motivations des croisés. Les valeurs chevaleresques, embryonnaires, doivent être considérées comme motifs secondaires; elles constituent seulement le fond de mentalité qui a conduit les chevaliers à recevoir favorablement et à interpréter à leur manière le message du pape Urbain II.15 Qu’en est-il, dès lors, des rapports entre croisade et paix de Dieu? M. Bull rejette là encore tout lien direct, dans le sens d’une filiation, et il a de nouveau raison si l’on s’en tient aux anciennes interprétations de la paix de Dieu. Il relève par exemple la faible influence de la paix de Dieu sur les esprits des chevaliers, puisque l’on ne trouve pas trace d’une réponse plus forte là où la paix de Dieu a eu le plus de succès.16 Soit! Mais n’est-ce pas là attribuer à la paix de Dieu une idéologie d’une portée trop vaste, trop généralisante? Cette constatation, d’ailleurs, n’épuise pas le sujet. Même si la paix de Dieu n’a pas eu sur la reconquista et la croisade l’impact direct qu’on lui attribuait jadis, on doit néanmoins se poser la question de savoir si, du moins, l’idéologie de la paix de Dieu a préparé celle de la reconquista et de la croisade. M. Bull, à nouveau, le nie. Selon lui, Erdmann et Delaruelle ont exagéré son influence: même à son apogée, la paix de Dieu ne fait guère appel à une éthique acceptée, et il en conclut que le lien généralement établi entre paix de Dieu et croisade est “chimérique”.17 M. Bull conteste par ailleurs la thèse habituelle selon laquelle la violence qui règne alors en Aquitaine résulte du déclin du pouvoir central, d’où un besoin de protection des faibles et l’intervention de l’Eglise qui, devant l’anarchie, reprend le flambeau ou coopère avec les restes du pouvoir local. Le contexte des conflits, entre 950 et 1030, est celui d’une lutte entre les princes de la région, dans le cadre d’une compétition destinée à s’assurer la possession des châteaux. La paix de Dieu se développe donc dans un climat de violence qui, loin d’exclure les princes d’Aquitaine, les inclut dans le mouvement, sans qu’il soit besoin d’invoquer l’anarchie. Elle n’est pas fondée sur un appel à l’éthique des guerriers. On ne peut que donner raison à M. Bull sur ce plan. Mais il ne s’ensuit pas pour autant que la paix de Dieu n’ait pas joué un rôle important dans la préparation idéologique de la croisade. Non pas dans le sens traditionnel, auquel M. Bull demeure malgré tout attaché, fût-ce pour minimiser son rôle, mais dans un sens nouveau, plus précis et plus limité, qu’il convient de préciser. C’est le but de la présente étude. 15

Marcus Bull, Knightly Piety and the Lay Response to the First crusade: The Limousin and Gascony (c. 970– c. 1130) (Oxford, 1993), en particulier p. 8. 16 Marcus Bull, “The Roots of Lay Enthusiasm for the First Crusade”, History 78 (1993), 353–72, en particulier 358–59. On pourrait d’ailleurs répondre que la paix de Dieu a eu du “succès” précisément dans les régions où les troubles étaient les plus grands et l’intervention de l’Eglise plus nécessaire, donc le besoin de pénitence plus fort. Mais l’essentiel, on va le voir, n’est pas là. 17 Bull, Knightly Piety, p. 21–69.

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Revenons, pour en percevoir à la fois les fondements et les lacunes, sur les principales interprétations de la paix de Dieu dans ses liens avec la croisade, tels que les ont perçus les historiens de la croisade. Dans sa belle étude des origines de celle-ci,18 P. Rousset, bon connaisseur de la mentalité “chevaleresque”, ne commettait pas l’erreur de faire de la chevalerie, au XIe siècle, une force entre les mains de l’Eglise. Il ne faisait pas des milites, fussent-ils adoubés, des chevaliers au service d’un idéal chevaleresque encore à définir. Au contraire: les troubles, les guerres, les pillages viennent des milites. La croisade est donc pour lui une paix, mais dans un sens, pourrait-on dire, double, et non pas dans le seul sens précédemment défini. Par la paix de Dieu, disait-il, l’Eglise tentait depuis un siècle de limiter les effets de la violence armée des chevaliers en leur interdisant, sous peine d’excommunication, de s’en prendre à tous les inermes, clercs, femmes, paysans, puis en interdisant les guerres privées pendant les fêtes religieuses. Il s’agissait en bref d’inculquer à la classe montante des chevaliers, qui ne sont plus tenus en mains par le pouvoir central, une idéologie de paix. Sans grand succès. Pour P. Rousset, la multiplication des assemblées de paix d’une part, la prédication de la croisade d’autre part, témoignent de son échec. Le discours de Clermont prend acte de ce constat: l’appel à la croisade détourne vers l’Orient musulman les turbulences de la chevalerie. La guerre, injuste contre les fidèles, devient juste contre les infidèles. En ce sens, la croisade est une paix pour la chrétienté d’Occident. “Le croisé est généralement représenté comme le véritable chevalier, le miles Christi, adversaire résolu des infidèles, héros de la guerre sainte, guerrier sans peur et sans reproche.”19 P. Alphandéry abonde dans ce dernier sens. Il montre Urbain II, accablé des désordes et des violences qui tourmentent le chrétienté, cherchant à procurer aux turbulents guerriers un exutoire: “une diversion en Orient lui paraîtrait purification opportune de l’Occident”.20 La croisade, ainsi, procure la paix en Occident par le départ des chevaliers turbulents. Sans aller jusque là, S. Runciman voit aussi dans la paix de Dieu une préparation à la croisade. Le concile de Narbonne (1054) en est pour lui l’aboutissement en liant “l’idée de trêve de Dieu à l’autre grande idée de paix sacrée protégeant les biens de l’Eglise et des pauvres des effets de la guerre”.21 Pour A. Becker, Urbain II prend connaissance, en Bourgogne et en Champagne, de la paix et de la trêve de Dieu qui ont contribué “à préparer mentalement l’esprit de croisade” par leur condamnation des guerres privées et des désordres et par la

18

Paul Rousset, Les origines et les caractères de la première croisade (Neuchâtel, 1945). Paul Rousset, Histoire d’une idéologie: la croisade (Lausanne, 1983), p. 11. Voir aussi Paul Rousset, “Les laïcs dans la croisade”, dans I Laici nella ‘societas cristiana’ dei sec. XI–XIII (Milan, 1968), p. 428–43. 20 Paul Alphandéry et Alphonse Dupront, La chrétienté et l’idée de croisade, 2 vols (Paris, 1954–9), 1:32. 21 Steven Runciman, A History of the Crusades, 3 vols (Cambridge, 1951–4); trad. fr. D. A. Canal, 1:113–14. 19

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reconnaissance d’une valeur morale à l’action militaire entreprise au service de la paix, de la justice et de l’Eglise.22 J. Richard, récemment, élargit la perspective. Se refusant à voir dans la croisade un “cynique détournement vers l’Orient des violences des chevaliers d’Occident”, il fait cependant de la croisade un élément de la paix: la croisade, écrit-il, est une paix de Dieu; il paraît normal aux gens du XIe siècle que l’Eglise soit chargée de l’établissement de cette paix, qui est l’ordre voulu par Dieu. De même que les ligues de paix employaient les guerriers au maintien de l’ordre en Occident, de même les chevaliers appelés à la croisade cherchent à ramener la paix en Orient en mettant les envahisseurs (Turcs) à la raison: “dans cette interprétation, la croisade se rapprocherait d’une ‘institution de paix’ dont l’action aurait l’Orient pour théâtre”.23 J. Riley-Smith admet lui aussi l’état anarchique de la société à laquelle l’Eglise doit faire face par la paix de Dieu, qui décrète l’immunité des sanctuaires, le protection du clergé et des pauvres; il remarque que la paix de Dieu est d’abord hostile à la chevalerie sous toutes ses formes; mais, note-t-il encore, les évêques et les monastères ont eux-mêmes des chevaliers: l’Eglise est ainsi amenée à organiser des actions militaires contre les violateurs de la paix, ce qui la prépare à trouver un rôle positif à la chevalerie.24 Dans toutes ces interprétations, à quelques nuances près, on constate deux traits communs: 1 La paix de Dieu y est tenue pour une tentative de l’Eglise de se substituer au pouvoir central défaillant (royal, ducal ou comtal), pour limiter les violences des chevaliers qu’aucun pouvoir civil ne tient plus efficacement en bride. 2 Cette paix de Dieu est tenue pour une élaboration idéologique à portée générale, une sorte de “programme politico-religieux” destiné à protéger des violences de la chevalerie l’ensemble des classes de la société qui souffrent le plus de ces troubles, à savoir les inermes: les clercs, les femmes, les paysans et paysannes, ainsi que leurs biens pillés par la soldatesque lors des conflits féodaux. Ainsi, l’Eglise apparaît comme une autorité morale prêchant la paix et la modération aux milites. Ce programme idéologique destinée à protéger tous les faibles des exactions, pillages et déprédations des milites, aurait dans une certaine mesure préparé les esprits à recevoir le message d’Urbain II qui, dans son appel, chercherait à étendre la paix de Dieu à toute la chrétienté.25

22 Alfons Becker, “Urbain II, pape de la croisade”, dans Les champenois et la croisade (Actes des 4èmes journées rémoises, 27–28 nov. 1987), éd. Yvonne Bellenger et Danielle Quéruel (Paris, 1989), p. 9–17 (citation p. 11). 23 Jean Richard, Histoire des croisades (Paris, 1996), p. 32–33. 24 Jonathan Riley-Smith, The First Crusade and the Idea of Crusading (London, 1986), p. 5–6. 25 Voir aussi sur ce point Hans E. Mayer, Geschichte der Kreuzzüge (Stuttgart, 1965), trad. John Gillingham, The Crusades, 2ème éd. (Oxford, 1988), p. 8, 16ss.; Herbert E. J. Cowdrey, “The Peace and the Truce of God in the Eleventh Century”, Past and Present 46 (1970), 42–67.

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Sans adopter totalement ce point de vue “classique”, j’avais pour ma part souligné surtout dans la paix de Dieu son caractère de moralisation des opérations guerrières, ayant pour but de “limiter la guerre et ses effets aux seuls guerriers”, d’obtenir que les milites s’engagent à ne point attaquer, pour les dévaliser ou les rançonner, les inermes non accompagnés de guerriers: femmes, enfants, paysans, chevaliers sans armes et, bien sûr, ecclésiastiques. J’en avais tiré cette conclusion: “la paix de Dieu ne jette donc pas totalement le discrédit sur la guerre: elle vise à moraliser celle-ci, à en faire une sorte de sport réservé aux élites, aux professionnels, et dont les ecclésiastiques pourraient être désormais les arbitres et non plus les victimes”.26 Malgré ces restrictions et ces nuances, c’était attribuer encore à la paix de Dieu un programme idéologique trop vaste. Les nombreux travaux qui, depuis plusieurs années, se sont attachés aux institutions de paix doivent nous conduire à un rééxamen de nos interprétations. Ces travaux ont par ailleurs remis en cause de très nombreux aspects qui ne nous concernent pas directement ici, et sur lesquels, malgré leur très grand intérêt nous ne nous attarderons pas: contexte social des assemblées de paix, dimension “populaire”, voire anti-seigneuriale de ces assemblées, rôle des reliques, du merveilleux, des moines, lien avec l’espérance eschatologique etc., tous aspects actuellement débattus.27 On s’attachera seulement dans ce qui suit aux études qui modifient profondément l’interprétation de la paix de Dieu dans son rôle de préparation à la croisade. Plusieurs historiens commencent en effet à contester l’interprétation traditionnelle de la paix de Dieu exposée plus haut, selon laquelle les institutions de paix seraient nées de la volonté de l’Eglise de se substituer au pouvoir civil défaillant pour rétablir un semblant d’ordre, en réaction à la “mutation féodale” résultant du déclin du pouvoir central et de l’essor des pouvoirs locaux (châtellenies). La paix de Dieu, en effet, est souvent promulguée avec l’appui des princes, même en Aquitaine, et elle n’est pas foncièrement anti-seigneuriale; ses buts sont par ailleurs plus restreints qu’on l’avait cru.28 De plus, quelques historiens contestent l’existence même de 26

Jean Flori, La première croisade. L’occident chrétien contre l’islam (aux origines des idéologies occidentales), 2ème éd. (Bruxelles, 1997), p. 136. 27 On trouvera l’exposé de ces diverses interprétations de la paix de Dieu dans The Peace of God. Social Violence and Religious Response in France around the Year 1000, éd. Thomas Head et Richard Landes (Ithaca–London, 1992). Voir aussi Richard Landes, “La vie apostolique en Aquitaine en l’an Mil; Paix de Dieu, culte des reliques et communautés hérétiques”, Annales 46 (1991), 573–93; Daniel Callahan, “Adémar of Chabannes, apocalypticism and the Peace council of Limoges of 1031”, Revue Bénédictine 101 (1991), 32–49; Karl Ferdinand Werner, “Observations sur le rôle des évêques dans le mouvement de paix aux Xème et XIème siècles”, dans Medievalia Christiana XI–XIIIème s., Hommage à R. Foreville (Bruxelles, 1989), p. 155–95. 28 Hans-Werner Goetz, “Protection of the Church, Defense of the Law, and Reform: on the Purpose and Character of the Peace of God, 989–1038”, dans The Peace of God. Social Violence and Religious Response, éd. Head et Landes, p. 259–79; Hans-Werner Goetz, “La paix de Dieu en France autour de l’an mil: fondements et objectifs, diffusion et participants”, dans Le roi de France et son royaume autour de l’an mil, éd. Michel Parisse et Xavier Barral i Altet (Paris, 1992), p. 131–45.

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cette “mutation féodale” et minimisent l’existence – ou en tout cas l’ampleur – des troubles sociaux et des conflits féodaux des alentours de l’an mil, que la paix de Dieu tenterait précisément de réduire. C’est le cas de D. Barthélémy. Celui-ci a exposé longuement ses thèses radicalement anti-mutationnistes dans quelques ouvrages assez virulents;29 il l’a fait à nouveau, plus récemment, dans un livre tout aussi radical, mais beaucoup plus mesuré, plus convaincant, et qui concerne plus directement encore notre sujet.30 Sans partager totalement son point de vue (j’en étais jusqu’ici aux antipodes), je dois admettre aujourd’hui que son argumentation solide et richement documentée emporte l’adhésion sur plusieurs points. J’ai donc réexaminé dans une nouvelle perspective les divers textes relatifs à la paix de Dieu afin d’en discerner, dans chaque cas, l’intention première sans présumer a priori d’un programme idéologique globalisant. Vers une nouvelle interprétation de la paix de Dieu La présente étude porte donc essentiellement sur la signification et la portée éventuelle des institutions de paix en rapport avec la préparation idéologique de la croisade. Cette enquête (que j’ai élargie à d’autres éléments précurseurs et dont je publie ailleurs l’ensemble des résultats relatifs à la formation de l’idée de guerre sainte31) me conduit, en ce qui concerne la paix de Dieu, à plusieurs constatations. Première constatation: il n’est pas nécessaire d’admettre une quelconque “anarchie féodale” pour rendre compte des troubles qui sont à l’origine des assemblées de paix. Ces troubles et ces conflits, en revanche, sont fréquents et bien réels, et il ne faut donc pas les minimiser, quelles qu’en soient les raisons. Deuxième constatation: il n’est pas nécessaire non plus d’imaginer une quelconque “mutation de l’an mil” dans le sens d’une révolution politico-sociale qui ferait apparaître brusquement une nouvelle classe turbulente et mal contenue, celle des chevaliers. La “révolution féodale” ne naît pas en l’an mil. Elle résulte de la crise politique qui, à la fin du IXe siècle, se traduit par la dislocation de l’empire carolingien. En revanche, les effets de cette crise ne sont pas immédiats, et l’on doit admettre pour le moins, aux Xe et XIe siècles, une “explosion châtelaine” dont témoignent à la fois les textes et l’archéologie. Même s’ils ne sont pas tous, loin s’en faut, des “châteaux adultérins”, et même si, en de nombreuses régions, ils sont au contraire érigés par les comtes ou avec leur autorisation, ces châteaux n’en sont pas 29 Dominique Barthélémy, “La mutation féodale a-t-elle eu lieu? Note critique”, Annales 47 (1992), 767–75; Dominique Barthélémy, “La paix de Dieu dans son contexte (989–1041)”, Cahiers de Civilisation Médiévale 40 (1997), 3–35; Dominique Barthélémy, La mutation de l’an mil a-t-elle eu lieu? Servage et chevalerie dans la France des Xe et XIe siècles (Paris, 1997). 30 Dominique Barthélémy, L’an mil et la paix de Dieu; la France chrétienne et féodale, 980–1060 (Paris, 1999). 31 Voir Jean Flori, La guerre sainte. La formation de l’idée de croisade dans l’Occident chrétien (Paris, 2001).

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moins les éléments essentiels de la lutte que se livrent, un peu partout, le pouvoir comtal et ses adversaires, vassaux ou voisins. Ils sont les principaux enjeux de ces luttes. On peut contester la mutation de l’an mil. On ne peut guère nier la montée des châtellenies à cette même époque, ni le rôle prédominant, dans la vie du temps, des seigneurs châtelains appuyés sur leurs milites. Troisième constatation: les textes de la paix de Dieu sont dirigés contre des chevaliers, ou plus exactement des guerriers (milites) car ce sont eux qui se livrent aux exactions dénoncées par les assemblées de paix. Dirigés contre des milites, mais pas nécessairement contre les milites. Ce n’est pas une classe sociale qui est visée en tant que telle. La chevalerie, je ne cesse de le clamer depuis une trentaine d’années, souvent dans le désert, n’est d’ailleurs pas une classe sociale au XIe siècle, ni même encore au siècle suivant: c’est une fonction, une profession, un métier. Les textes s’élèvent contre ceux des milites qui commettent des exactions. Ils cherchent à protéger des gens et des biens contre ces milites là. Il s’agit donc de savoir qui (ou ce qui) doit être protégé, de quoi et contre qui. Les milites ne sont que des exécutants. Qui les dirige? Quatrième constatation: c’est l’Eglise qui, dans la quasi totalité des cas, est la victime des exactions mentionnées par les textes. Mieux vaudrait d’ailleurs dire les églises plutôt que l’Eglise. Car ce sont avant tout les propriétés ecclésiastiques qui sont ici en cause. Ces violences guerrières ne sont pas nées à l’approche de l’an mil, et elles ne sont alors ni déchaînées ni généralisées. Du moins sont-elles réelles et surtout dénoncées par l’Eglise, qui sans doute en amplifie les excès, tente de les limiter et de tirer avantage de cette action pacificatrice. Cinquième constatation: les termes employés par les textes (et c’est en cela qu’ils ont longtemps trompé les historiens) semblent dénoncer des violences endémiques dans un contexte d’anarchie féodale dont on n’accepte plus aujourd’hui la généralité. Or ces violences, notons-le, s’exercent essentiellement contre les propriétés des églises. Bien plus: la nature même de ces “exactions” doit peut-être être comprise dans un sens moins violent, moins guerrier. Comme l’a fait judicieusement remarquer E. Magnou-Nortier, le vocabulaire qui désigne ces “exactions” et ceux qui les commettent n’est pas, lui non plus, nouveau: les même mots raptores, pervasores, usurpatores, oppressores ecclesiarum et pauperum, rapaces, depraedatores, figurent déjà dans les textes carolingiens. Font-ils donc déjà référence, à cette époque, à un contexte social troublé, anarchique, à un climat de violence chevaleresque comparable à celui qui, dit-on, a fait naître la paix de Dieu, aux approches de l’an mil? Nullement! Ces termes ne désignent pas des chevaliers pillards, mais des personnages qui osent contester des offrandes et donations faites aux églises, qui ne respectent pas les immunités et les biens des églises et, d’une manière plus générale, tous les laïcs qui, d’une manière ou d’une autre, s’en prennent au patrimoine ecclésiastique.32 Dès lors, on peut émettre une 32 Elisabeth Magnou-Nortier, “The Enemies of the Peace: Reflections on a Vocabulary, 500–1100”, dans The Peace of God. Social Violence and Religious Response, éd. Head et Landes, p. 58–79. Voir

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hypothèse: le but principal de la paix de Dieu ne serait pas de combattre en soi la guerre privée ou d’éventuels et supposés brigandages des chevaliers féodaux, mais plutôt, comme aux siècles précédents, d’obliger les laïcs ainsi désignés à renoncer à leurs revendications et contestations sur des terres ecclésiastiques, ou aux biens qu’ils y avaient saisis pour assurer la défense de la région. La paix aurait donc essentiellement pour but de reprendre le contrôle du patrimoine ecclésiastique menacé, et non de lutter contre un déchaînement de violences dues à une sorte d’anarchie féodale. Cette problématique mérite attention. Elle explique mieux qu’auparavant la plupart des décrets de paix, particulièrement leur origine. Elle ne doit toutefois pas conduire à exclure l’existence d’exactions seigneuriales issues des guerres privées, dont seraient victimes non seulement les seigneuries ecclésiastiques, mais aussi les “pauvres” laïcs vivant sur les terres des guerriers impliqués dans ces conflits féodaux ou ces faides seigneuriales et chevaleresques. L’interprétation que nous proposons ici n’est donc pas exclusive; elle conduit cependant à déplacer l’accent, parfois de manière forte, du général – protection des faibles dans une période de troubles généralisés – vers le particulier – protection des propriétés et biens d’églises dans une période où ils sont contestés par les seigneurs laïcs. L’examen des principaux textes relatifs à la paix de Dieu me semble cautionner cette interprétation. Le plus ancien de ces témoignages, vers 975, se situe en Auvergne.33 Une charte énonce nettement les buts recherchés par Gui, évêque du Puy: assurer la sécurité des biens d’Eglise: A peine élevé au siège pontifical, et pensant fermement à assurer la paix des biens d’Eglise que les brigands de ce pays enlevaient par la force, il [Gui] ordonna que tous, chevaliers et rustres de son diocèse se réunissent ensemble, afin qu’à leur écoute ils lui donnent leur avis sur la manière de faire la paix. Demandant à ses neveux de réunir leurs troupes près du vicus de Brioude, il pria donc tous ceux de son évêché, réunis aux prés de Saint-Germain, près du Puy, de jurer la paix, de ne pas opprimer les choses d’Eglise et de rendre celles dérobées, comme il sied à de fidèles chrétiens. Ceux-ci rechigant, il ordonna à son armée de venir de nuit de Brioude, voulant les contraindre de force, si bien qu’ils jurèrent la paix

aussi Elisabeth Magnou-Nortier, “Les mauvaises coutumes en Auvergne, Bourgogne méridionale, Languedoc et Provence au XIe siècle: un moyen d’analyse sociale”, dans Structures féodales et féodalisme dans l’Occident méditerranéen (Xe–XIIIe siècle) (Rome, 1980), p. 135–72; André Chédeville, “La guerre des bourgs. Concurrence châtelaine et patrimoine monastique (XIe–XIIe siècles)”, dans Campagnes médiévales: l’homme et son espace. Etudes offertes à Robert Fossier, éd. Elizabeth Mornet (Paris, 1995), p. 401–512. 33 Cf. Christian Laurenson-Rosaz, “Peace from the Mountains: the Auvergnat Origins of the Peace of God”, dans The Peace of God. Social Violence and Religious Response, éd. Head et Landes, p. 104–34 (texte p. 116–17). Voir toutefois Bernard S. Bachrach, “The Northern Origins of the Peace Movement at Le Puy in 975”, dans State-building in Medieval France. Studies in Early Angevin History (Aldershot, 1995).

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et en donnèrent des gages, et se démirent des terres et châteaux de Sainte-Marie [du Puy] et des biens d’Eglise qu’ils avaient pris: ceci fut fait, Dieu aidant.34

Comme on le voit, l’évêque tente, par tous les moyens, par la paix mais aussi par la guerre, de récupérer des domaines ecclésiastiques spoliés par des seigneurs laïcs du voisinage, qualifiés de “brigands”. Il n’est pas ici question de paix universelle, mais de protection des biens de l’Eglise, au besoin par l’usage de la force armée dont peut disposer l’évêque: celle de ses neveux ou des “obédienciers” de Brioude, connus par un texte contemporain.35 Quelques années plus tard, dans la même région, au concile du Puy (990–994), la préoccupation est identique: protéger le patrimoine ecclésiastique. Trois articles s’y rattachent très directement. Le premier affirme l’inviolabilité des églises; le second interdit la saisie, dans l’aître d’une église ou dans l’enceinte fortifiée, de chevaux publics ou animaux divers (seul l’évêque y est autorisé). Le septième souligne plus explicitement le but majeur du concile: Que personne n’ose usurper des terres ecclésiastiques épiscopales, canoniales ou monastiques, ni leur causer préjudice par quelque mauvaise coutume, sauf si la terre a été acquise en précaire de la main de l’évêque ou de la volonté des frères.36

D’autres articles soulignent les prérogatives cléricales, la protection dont doivent jouir non seulement les biens des églises, mais aussi leurs serviteurs, clercs et moines, puisqu’ils ne peuvent se défendre par eux-mêmes à cause de l’interdiction qui leur est faite de ne pas porter d’armes. Au total, six décrets sur neuf traitent de la protection des biens, personnes et privilèges ecclésiastiques.37 Seuls les trois autres semblent avoir à première vue une portée plus générale. Ce sont les décrets 3, 6 et 8: (3) De même que personne n’emporte dans sa maison de quoi bâtir un château ou en assiéger un, à moins qu’il ne s’agisse de sa propre terre, de son alleu, de son bénéfice ou de sa “commande”. (6) Que personne ne s’empare d’un paysan ou d’une paysanne pour en obtenir rançon (on peut aussi traduire “rachat judiciaire”), sauf pour un délit, sauf s’il s’agit d’un paysan ayant cultivé la terre d’autrui, et sauf s’il s’agit, pour qui que ce soit, de sa propre terre ou de son bénéfice. 34 Synode de Laprade (975–980), dans Cartulaire de l’abbaye de Saint-Chaffre du Monastier, éd. Ulysse Chevalier (Le Puy, 1884), p. 152, no 413, trad. fr. dans Christian Laurenson-Rosaz, “L’Auvergne”, dans Les sociétés méridionales autour de l’an mil, éd. M. Zimmermann (Paris, 1992), p. 49. 35 Voir le serment des “obédienciers” de Brioude (fin du Xe–début du XIe s.), texte et trad. dans Les sociétés méridionales, éd. Zimmermann, p. 52ss. 36 Mansi, Concilia, 19:271–2 (texte et trad. de Laurenson-Rosaz, dans Les sociétés méridionales, éd. Zimmermann, p. 49ss). 37 Cf. Elisabeth Magnou-Nortier, “La place du concile du Puy (v. 994) dans l’évolution de l’idée de paix”, dans Mélanges offerts au professeur Jean Dauvillier (Toulouse, 1979), p. 489–506.

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(8) A partir de cette heure et dorénavant, que personne n’ose plus, sciemment, s’emparer de marchands ou les dépouiller de leurs biens.38

Quel est le sens et la portée de ces trois derniers décrets? Les restrictions mentionnées aux articles 3 et 6 soulignent nettement qu’il ne s’agit pas d’interdictions universelles restreignant le droit seigneurial: quiconque, sur ses propres terres, alleu, fief ou bénéfice, peut se comporter comme il l’entend. Ne serait-on pas alors, ici encore, dans le cas précédent? Ne s’agirait-il pas de protéger les paysans et tenanciers des terres ecclésiastiques, les marchands qui s’y rendent ou les traversent? Tout, dans les décrets, montre que la protection des intérêts des établissements ecclésiastiques est au centre des préoccupations du concile, de manière presque exclusive. Le décret no 3, d’ailleurs, rejoint ceux qu’aux mêmes dates Odilon de Cluny fait accepter par le synode d’Anse (994). Ils proclament la souveraineté des domaines de Cluny: ils interdisent en effet que nul agent de la puissance publique, y compris le comte (de Mâcon), n’ose construire en ces lieux ou à proximité aucun château ou place fortifiée; ils interdisent à tout “dignitaire du siècle” de saisir, dans les villages dépendant de Cluny, les hommes qui y vivent ou leur bétail, boeufs, vaches, porcs, ou chevaux. Soulignons-le à nouveau: il n’est nullement question, ici, de réglementer le droit de guerre privée, ni d’interdire le butin, ni de protéger les faibles et les paysans dans leur ensemble des atteintes de la chevalerie pillarde. Les termes employés s’y opposent: judex publicus, aut exaccionarius, comes quoque ... ; saecularis dignitas, seu militaris sublimitas . . . désignent très clairement l’adversaire. C’est bel et bien le pouvoir public laïc, voisin et rival, le comte et ses subordonnés dans l’exercice de leur fonction judiciaire et militaire. L’abbé de Cluny ne défend donc pas ici la paix des humbles troublée par l’anarchie féodale. Il défend la seigneurie ecclésiastique de l’abbaye de Cluny contre les empiètements des seigneurs laïcs du voisinage. Il ne prend pas la défense des pauvres, paysans et inermes, accablés par les pillages et déprédations des chevaliers trublions: il interdit, sous peine d’excommunication, aux seigneurs laïcs et à leurs milites de se livrer sur les paysans relevant des terres monastiques à des rafles, réquisitions, confiscations judiciaires ou autres “exactions” (au sens neutre de prélèvements). Cette préoccupation rejoint celle qui s’exprime dans le “Livre du Chemin” qui, à la même époque, montre comment la liturgie de Cluny, par l’invocation des saints et l’expositions de leurs reliques, constitue un moyen de “protection” contre les atteintes portées par les seigneurs féodaux des environs aux intérêts matériels des moines de Cluny.39 Bon nombre de ces “exactions” résultent de contestations “juridiques” relatives aux donations faites précédemment aux moines par des seigneurs laïcs, donations dont les descendants contestent l’ampleur 38

Mansi, Concilia, 19:271–72. Cf. “Le Livre du chemin”, éd. Petrus Dinter, Liber tramitis aevi Odilonis abbatis, Corpus Consuetudinum Monasticarum 10 (Siegburg, 1980), p. 245–46. 39

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ou la nature. De très nombreuses chartes clunisiennes, particulièrement entre 980 et 1030, signalent ces conflits auxquels elles mettent fin par un accord dûment enregistré. Ainsi, à Anse comme en Auvergne, les préoccupations majeures, sinon exclusives, de ces “synodes de paix” concernent essentiellement la défense des intérêts des seigneuries ecclésiastiques contre ceux des seigneuries laïques voisines. Le contexte est-il différent en Aquitaine? On disait jadis cette région particulièrement touchée par l’anarchie féodale, affectée par de graves conflits nécessitant la prise en main de la paix par l’Eglise. On sait aujourd’hui que ce tableau était très excessif.40 L’autorité des princes y était comme partout contestée, mais loin d’être insignifiante. Il n’y a pas, au XIe siècle, de dépérissement durable des comtes, mais seulement, comme dans la plupart des autres régions, crises de l’autorité et affaiblissements temporaires, dont profitent certains seigneurs belliqueux et ambitieux. C’est dans ce climat, non pas d’anarchie féodale, mais de conflits fréquents entre seigneuries (révélé aussi par le Conventum, vers 103041), que se situent les initiatives de paix d’Aquitaine, entre 989 et 1031. Nul besoin d’imaginer, pour expliquer l’origine de la paix de Dieu, une totale déliquescence politique, un climat de révolution populaire ni une tension eschatologique intense.42 De tels conflits limités suffisent. Le plus ancien concile de Paix en Aquitaine se tient à Charroux, en 989. L’archevêque Gombaud et les évêques rassemblés, voyant “proliférer des moeurs pestilentielles, faute depuis longtemps qu’un concile ait été tenu”, proclament l’anathème contre les violateurs d’églises, ceux qui pillent le bétail des “pauvres” et ceux qui attaquent, capturent ou brutalisent un prêtre, diacre ou clerc ne portant pas d’armes.43 La protection des églises et des clercs est donc, une fois de plus, au coeur des dispositions. Faut-il l’étendre à tous les paysans, victimes des guerres privées et des pillages? C’est possible, mais loin d’être certain: peut-être ces “pauvres” ainsi désignés sont-ils les paysans et serviteurs des “pauvres de Dieu” que sont eux-mêmes les

40 Voir sur ce point les avis parfois divergents de Marcel Garaud, Les châtelains du Poitou et l’avènement du régime féodal (XIème et XIIème siècles) (Poitiers, 1967); André Debord, “The Castellan Revolution and the Peace of God in Aquitaine”, dans The Peace of God. Social Violence and Religious Response, éd. Head et Landes, p. 135–64; André Debord, La société laïque dans les pays de Charente, Xe–XIIe siècles (Paris, 1984); George T. Beech, “The Lord–Dependant (vassal) Relationship; a Case Study from Aquitaine c. 1030”, Journal of Medieval History 24 (1998), 1–30. 41 Le Conventum (vers 1030), un précurseur aquitain des premières épopées, éd. et trad. George T. Beech, Yves Chauvin et Georges Pon (Genève, 1995); autre éd. Jane Martindale, “Conventum inter Guillelmum Aquitanorum comitem et Huguonem Chiliarcum”, English Historical Review 84 (1969), 528–48. 42 Ce qui n’exclut pas la possibilité d’une tension de ce type, même si elle est exagérée par Adémar de Chabannes. Cf. Richard Landes, “Between Aristocracy and Heresy: Popular Participation in the Limousin Peace of God, 994–1033”, dans The Peace of God. Social Violence and Religious Response, éd. Head et Landes, p. 184–218. 43 Mansi, Concilia, 19:89–90 (texte latin et commentaire dans Jean-Pierre Brunterc’h, Archives de la France, I: Le Moyen Age (Paris, 1994), p. 377–84).

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moines et les clercs, pauvres à titre personnel bien que membres de ces seigneuries ecclésiastiques dont certains seigneurs laïcs lèsent ici les intérêts en s’attaquant à leurs biens et à leurs serfs, paysans et serviteurs qui font fructifier leurs domaines. Quelques éléments pourraient inciter à aller dans ce sens. On trouve en effet, bien avant 989, des prescriptions du même genre relatives à la protection des “pauvres”; elles sont exprimées en termes très voisins, et s’appliquent précisément à des propriétés ecclésiastiques, aux terres et aux gens qui les cultivent. Ainsi, au début du Xe siècle, Abbon de Saint-Germain attribue les invasions des Normands à un châtiment de Dieu venant punir les péchés des chrétiens. Il accuse principalement les fautes de ceux qui osent s’attribuer des biens ecclésiastiques; or, il désigne ceux qui les dépouillent et s’en attribuent injustement les richesses par des termes presque identiques à ceux de Charroux: invasores ecclesiae, pillards des églises et de leurs pauvres, praedones, raptores ecclesiarum et pauperum earum, etc.44 Le concile de Trosly, en 909, dénonce lui aussi des péchés du même genre commis envers les “pauvres”, c’est à dire les ecclésiastiques, leurs biens et leurs serviteurs (rapinas pauperum, depraedationes rerum ecclesiasticarum). Ces péchés font s’élever contre les coupables un cri qui monte jusqu’à Dieu.45 Un témoignage précis cautionne d’ailleurs cette interprétation limitative des décrets promulgués à Charroux. Létald de Micy signale en effet que ce synode a été convoqué pour condamner ceux qui portaient atteinte aux biens ecclésiastiques; il avait pour but de leur faire rendre à l’évêque d’Angoulême ce qui lui avait été injustement enlevé.46 Dans tous les textes jusqu’ici analysés, les “chevaliers” ne sont pas visés en tant que membres d’une classe sociale, ni même en tant que guerriers professionnels (le mot milites, on l’aura remarqué, n’est d’ailleurs pas encore apparu dans les textes), mais il est clair que les actions condamnées sont accomplies par certains d’entre eux, au service des prédateurs dénoncés. L’interdit, signalé par Adémar de Chabannes, extension de l’excommunication, est prescrit justement pour élargir la culpabilité aux subordonnés des fautifs, afin de contraindre à résipiscence ceux des seigneurs qui ne tiennent pas compte des anathèmes de Charroux, qui continuent à ne pas respecter le personnel, les propriétés ou les privilèges des seigneuries ecclésiastiques.47 Un autre concile de Paix se tient en Aquitaine, vers 1010, à Poitiers. Son but essentiel est toujours le même: préserver la propriété ecclésiastique des empiètements et atteintes des seigneurs. Ce que l’on en sait révèle par ailleurs clairement que les conciles de paix ne résultent pas d’un mouvement populaire antiseigneurial ni d’une volonté de l’Eglise de se substituer au pouvoir central. Le texte du concile, le dit expressément: c’est le duc Guillaume qui a convoqué cette 44

Abbon de Saint-Germain, “Sermones quinque”, PL 132:762–78. “Acta concilii Trosleiani (909)”, PL 132:675–90. 46 Letald de Micy, “Delatio corporis s. Juniani in synodum Karrofensem”, PL 137:823–26. 47 Adémar de Chabannes, Chronicon, éd. Jules Chavanon (Paris, 1897), 3.35; nouvelle édition de Pascale Bourgain, Richard Landes et Georges Pon, CCCM, 129 (Turnhout, 1999). 45

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assemblée réunissant des évêques, des abbés et des seigneurs détenteurs d’un pouvoir public (principes) afin de statuer “à propos des biens qui ont été spoliés depuis les cinq dernières années ou qui le seront dans les années qui suivront ce concile, entraînant des conflits dans les pays mêmes dont les princes sont ici présents”.48 Le thème est donc clairement posé: il s’agit de spoliations et de contestations foncières. De tels conflits, décrète l’assemblée, devront désormais être portés devant l’autorité judiciaire de la région (judex). Si l’une des parties se dérobe, si le pouvoir judicaire (ducal) est ainsi mis dans l’incapacité de faire justice, on réunira les principes et les évêques de ce concile et tous ensemble devront agir pour confondre le récalcitrant, le combattre et l’abattre. Le concile témoigne donc d’un réel accord entre les aristocraties laïques et ecclésiastiques pour régler les différends en cours. Il ne s’agit pas, là encore, de protéger les pauvres et les faibles des pillages d’une classe chevaleresque débridée, mais de rétablir le droit à propos de biens ecclésiastiques spoliés. On retrouve le même contexte et les mêmes intentions quelques années plus tard, en 1031, au concile de Limoges. Son but est clairement énoncé dans le texte qui nous est parvenu: il s’agit de lutter contre les spoliations des biens ecclésiastiques par les laïcs. L’évêque Jourdain de Limoges l’affirme dès sa première intervention: Entendez ma plainte contre les puissances laïques. Mes paroissiens ne laissent pas en paix l’Eglise de Dieu ; ils volent les biens du sanctuaire, ils affligent les pauvres dont j’ai la charge et les ministres de l’Eglise, et avec moi, leur pasteur, ils ne veulent pas parler de paix.49

Nous sommes à nouveau dans le même contexte: celui des différends entre seigneurs laïcs et ecclésiastiques à propos de biens dont ceux-ci estiment avoir été spoliés. Reste à savoir en quoi consistent ces spoliations et exactions. S’agit-il de pillages, de rapts, de violences commises sur les clercs et sur des populations désarmées? Pas nécessairement! “Voler un sanctuaire”, ce peut être seulement détenir par héritage, une terre baillée par eux, ou avoir construit une église privée; “affliger les pauvres de l’évêque et les prêtres”, ce peut être seulement réclamer aux habitants des terres d’église les mêmes taxes de “protection” qu’aux autres hommes et les impressionner par quelque démonstration de force militaire. Une chose est sûre en tout cas: Jourdain parle ici du seul droit de l’Eglise, et non de l’ordre public en général. La réponse des évêques à cette plainte est en elle-même éloquente: Quel qu’il soit, celui qui vous combat encourt jugement et sanction; il faut séparer de la communion de l’Eglise ces gens qui osent vous contrecarrer. Tout homme qui combat contre vos sujets combat contre vous; et qui vous combat, c’est le Christ qu’il combat, car

48 49

Mansi, Concilia, 19:265–68. Ibid., p. 509ss.

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les évêques sont ses représentants. Ils encourent donc une stricte condamnation, divine et apostolique; notre concile va les frapper d’un juste anathème, pour les conduire à une pénitence.

Cette étroite assimilation de la cause de l’évêque (voire de la seigneurie épiscopale) à celle du Christ montre clairement où est le droit. Il y a là, plus encore peut-être que par l’anathème des adversaires, une véritable sacralisation du “combat”, fut-il juridique et pacifique, mené par les évêques contre les puissances laïques adverses.50 Ces chevaliers qui “pillent” les biens du sanctuaire par leurs réclamations et leurs démonstrations de puissance et “oppriment la foule des pauvres”51 devront s’en remettre au jugement d’une assemblée réunissant évêques, abbés et princes du Limousin. Une telle décision valorise évidemment la jurisprudence conciliaire et sacralise ses décisions. Les bénédictions et les malédictions qui terminent le rapport du concile le montrent bien: à ceux qui observeront ces préceptes, désignés par l’expression “fils de la paix, enfants de Dieu”, les évêques accordent “l’absolution de leurs péchés et la bénédiction éternelle”; quant aux “sectateurs du diable” qui refuseront cette paix, le concile prononce sur eux, avec gestes solennels à l’appui, des malédictions bien connues sur les violateurs, leurs armes et leurs chevaux.52 Les bénédictions sont assorties de “récompenses spirituelles”: le pardon des péchés, comme plus tard dans la croisade, est accordé à ceux qui, seigneurs ou chevaliers, obéissent aux instructions épiscopales. Les malédictions, rudes et spectaculaires, ne sont pas dirigées contre tous les milites en tant que classe, mais contre les seuls guerriers qui s’obstinent à contester les propriétés ecclésiastiques et refusent de s’en remettre au jugement des princes et des prélats. Excommuniés, ils se verront refuser la sépulture chrétienne. L’Eglise s’engage avec ses armes spirituelles pour assurer la sauvegarde de ses biens matériels. Les “paix de Dieu” ne se limitent pas à l’Aquitaine. Elles s’étendent très tôt, on l’a vu, à la Bourgogne et à la vallée du Rhône, d’où elles remontent vers le nord. Elle prennent alors une portée plus générale, dépassant les seules contestations d’intérêts entre seigneuries laïques et ecclésiastiques. On en voit les traces dans un texte du début du XIe siècle. Il s’agit du serment de paix que fit jurer l’archevêque Bouchard de Vienne. Il est inspiré des décrets du Puy, auxquels il ajoute de nombreux articles. Les fondements y sont encore les mêmes: dans la plupart d’entre eux, le jureur s’engage à ne pas enfreindre les terres et bâtiments des établissements d’Eglise, à ne pas porter atteinte à leurs gens (clercs, moines) ni à leurs biens ou serviteurs, rejoignant ainsi les conciles déjà mentionnés. L’un de ces articles précise les motifs des conflits possibles: les “mauvaises coutumes” (entendons par là des droits et taxes imposés à tort aux habitants des terres ecclésiastiques par les seigneurs laïcs): 50 51 52

Cf. Barthélémy, L’an mil et la paix de Dieu, p. 371. Mansi, Concilia, 19:529–30. Ibid., p. 530.

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Je ne mettrai pas de mauvaises coutumes dans les terres des saints, celles de l’évêché de Vienne que les chanoines ont maintenant en commun ou ont déjà acquises, celles des moines, celles des moniales. Je n’y prendrai pas les albergues (le gîte) pour l’ost ou la chevauchée, si je sais pouvoir l’éviter.53

D’autres, pourtant, vont plus loin, cherchant à protéger semble-t-il les populations non armées des autres seigneuries. Il ne s’agit pas d’interdire la guerre privée, mais d’en limiter les effets à ceux-là seuls qui y sont impliqués, à savoir les gens de guerre, excluant ainsi les massacres, rapts, destructions, pillages et autres actes de violence commis à l’encontre des non-guerriers sur les terres du seigneur que l’on combat. Notons toutefois les très nombreuses exceptions aux interdictions (“sauf si ...”) et la restriction suivante, qui les résume: ces limitations ne valent que pour les jureurs, sur des terres qui ne sont pas les leurs; tout seigneur pourra donc continuer à agir comme il l’entend sur ses propres terres. L’ost de l’évêque en est toujours dispensé dans sa lutte contre les violateurs de cette paix. Le serment de Vienne cherche donc avant tout à régler les contentieux par la concertation et le dialogue, et à accroître la juridiction de l’évêque. Les décrets du concile de Verdun sur le Doubs (1019–1021) reprennent les clauses précédentes, mais laissent de côté les articles sur les terres d’Eglise, ce qui leur confère une portée plus générale. Le but est plus nettement ici de limiter les excès et les déprédations des milites engagés dans des guerres privées, quels qu’en soient les motifs et les parties prenantes. Les restrictions d’applications de ces engagements sont à peu près identiques à celles de Vienne: le jureur en est dispensé sur ses propres terres, alleux, fiefs ou bénéfices, lorsqu’il assiège ou bâtit un château, lorsqu’il participe à l’ost du roi, des comtes, de l’archevêque de Lyon, des évêques mentionnés en tête des décrets; il devra toutefois, même pendant ce service d’ost (donc dans le cadre d’une guerre publique), ne pas enfreindre les sauvetés des églises, sauf si l’on a refusé de lui vendre les vivres nécessaires. Le serment que proposent Guérin de Beauvais et quelques autres évêques, en 1023, s’inspire très étroitement du précédent. Le contexte politique et social de cette “paix”, dramatisé par l’auteur de la geste des évêques de Cambrai, évoque un royaume près de s’effondrer par suite de la faiblesse du roi et du péché des hommes, où toutes les fonctions se mêlent, où l’on ne respecte plus les traditions ni la justice: ces évêques pensèrent donc, dit-il, que se serait un grand secours à l’Etat si l’on se rangeait aux décrets des évêques de Bourgogne. Ce contexte a été récemment dédramatisé (peut-être trop). Gérard de Cambrai, on le sait, s’opposa à ce serment, y voyant une atteinte à l’autorité royale: la paix est de son ressort. Or la paix de Dieu, qu’on le veuille ou non, intervient sur le terrain de l’ordre public et se substitue peu ou prou à l’autorité royale ou princière qu’elle cherche à renforcer, dans ses

53 Texte dans Georges de Manteyer, La paix en Viennois (Anse, 1025) et les additions à la Bible de Vienne (ms Bern. A.9) (Grenoble, 1904), p. 91–98, ici p. 95.

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prérogatives de police, d’ordre et de justice. N’y a-t-il pas là risque de dérive? C’est là, me semble-t-il, le sens de la prévention exprimée par Gérard. Le cas de Bourges (1038) est à cet égard exemplaire d’une tentative de l’évêque d’empiéter sur les prérogatives du pouvoir public. Les armes spirituelles, en effet, ne sont pas toujours suffisantes, malgré la très réelle menace de l’excommunication ou de l’interdit, et le risque de mourir privé de sépulture chrétienne. Certains seigneurs laïcs continuent à ne pas en tenir compte. A Bourges, l’archevêque Aimon (qui présidait déjà le concile de Limoges) décide de mener une action guerrière contre tous les récalcitrants, à savoir les violateurs de biens ecclésiastiques. Il impose à tous les participants cette formule de serment: Je combattrai tous les envahisseurs de biens ecclésiastiques, les instigateurs des pillages, les oppresseurs des moines, des moniales et des clercs, et tous ceux qui attaquent notre sainte mère l’Eglise, jusqu’à ce qu’ils viennent à résipiscence ... . Je promets de marcher avec toutes mes forces contre ceux qui auront osé transgresser ces interdits et de ne leur céder en rien, jusqu’à ce que les tentatives des prévaricateurs soient anéanties.54

A nouveau, dans ces régions, c’est la seule défense des biens ecclésiastiques qui est en cause. Dans leurs diocèses respectifs, les évêques doivent faire prononcer ce serment à tous leurs fidèles âgés de plus de quinze ans. Les ministres du culte eux-mêmes n’en sont pas exemptés: “ils devraient, à chaque occasion, aller chercher dans les sanctuaires de Dieu les bannières du Seigneur pour marcher avec la multitude du peuple contre les corrupteurs de la paix jurée”. Nous sommes là aux confins de la guerre “juste” et de la guerre sainte. Guerre juste, parce que menée pour une cause juste, la récupération de biens spoliés, la défense des églises contre ceux qui la dépouillent. Guerre visiblement sacralisée par la présence des bannières ecclésiastiques et des prêtres, et “sanctifiée” par l’autorité qui la prêche, puisque l’initiative guerrière est manifestement ecclésiastique, prise par un archevêque à l’occasion solennelle d’un concile, cautionnée par tous les évêques présents, et renforcée par un serment prêté sur les reliques des saints. Nous sommes donc très près de la guerre sainte. Il n’y manque que l’autorité suprême et les récompenses spirituelles dans l’au-delà. Aussi, André de Fleury se répand-il d’abord en louanges; il compare les hommes ainsi rassemblés sous les bannières des saints patrons des églises, pour lutter contre les prévaricateurs des biens ecclésiastiques, aux armées du peuple élu de la Bible triomphant des ennemis de Dieu. Un Dieu qui, bien sûr, leur donne aussi la victoire, presque sans combattre.55 André souligne le rôle prépondérant, dans la victoire, des prêtres qui, bannières déployées, font fuir tous les ennemis des églises que la terreur de Dieu paralyse.

54 André de Fleury, “Miracula sancti Benedicti”, 5.1–2, éd. Eugène de Certain, Les miracles de Saint Benoît (Paris, 1858), p. 192ss. 55 André de Fleury 5.2, p. 194.

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Encore faut-il que cette guerre ainsi sanctifiée demeure juste, exempte de haine personnelle, de cupidité, d’intérêts matériels, d’exactions . . . Or, précisément, l’orgueil, la cupidité, la furie sanguinaire se glissent dans le camp de l’évêque: lui et ses gens attribuent la victoire non à Dieu, mais à leur propre vaillance, dont ils gonflent les mérites. Comme les guerriers professionnels du camp adverse, ils “font de l’argent” par leurs faits d’armes. L’archevêque lui-même verse le sang des innocents, met en vente la grâce divine et en oublie sa fonction d’homme de Dieu. La cupidité, désormais, le mène. Sous prétexte de châtier une infraction à la paix, il fait avec ses troupes de Bourges le siège d’un château et l’incendie: 1400 personnes y trouvent la mort; elles s’étaient réfugiés là par crainte des déprédations . . . des gens de l’évêque! Ceux-ci, victorieux, se ruent dans le château, pillent, massacrent les rescapés, hommes, femmes et enfants, puis rentrent chez eux, ivres de joie et de vengeance, enrichis par le butin, emmenant prisonnier à Bourges le seigneur du château.56 Dieu, cette fois, ne peut laisser impunie cette dérive. La cause était juste et sainte, mais elle a été dénaturée, pervertie, souillée. C’est pourquoi la vengeance divine s’abat sur les troupes de l’évêque par une voie, comme souvent, incompréhensible aux hommes: leur déroute devant les guerriers d’Eudes de Déols, le dernier rebelle à ce pacte de “paix” que l’évêque voulait imposer par cette force armée inique. Dieu se sert de lui pour venger le sang innocent répandu. Grâce à un habile stratagème des hommes d’Eudes, la peur change de camp: les “miliciens” d’Aimon de Bourges s’enfuient vers le Cher, ou beaucoup se noient, comme par un Jugement de Dieu. Cet épisode curieux illustre à merveille ce qui différencie la guerre impie de la guerre juste, et celle-ci de la guerre sainte. La guerre impie est menée par les ennemis de Dieu contre les causes justes. La guerre juste s’oppose à l’action inique des impies et des malfaiteurs, et défend la justice. La guerre sainte ne doit pas seulement être menée pour une cause juste; elle doit être promulguée par Dieu directement ou, en l’absence d’un régime théocratique, par le truchement d’une autorité sainte et incontestable (ici un concile, que l’on croit inspiré par l’Esprit saint); elle s’accompagne de nombreux éléments formels de sacralisation qui en manifestent visiblement le caractère; ainsi sanctifiée, elle se doit bien entendu de rester juste et sainte dans son action; la guerre menée par les fidèles doit être à la hauteur morale de la cause et de l’autorité qui la sanctifient. Dans le cas contraire, la cause demeure sacrée, mais Dieu abandonne les siens et les châtie d’autant plus qu’ils sont ainsi coupables d’une sorte de profanation: en souillant par leur comportement une action sacralisée, ils la pervertissent et la dénaturent. Pour les châtier, Dieu peut même se servir des impies comme d’un fléau, comme il le fit jadis dans l’Histoire Sainte en punissant son peuple par la victoire et l’oppression des rois infidèles d’Assyrie et de Babylone. Il se sert ici du rebelle Eudes de Déols. On retrouvera tous ces caractères dans la croisade.

56

André de Fleury 5.3, p. 195–96.

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Ainsi, la paix de Dieu, d’abord promulguée pour défendre les biens et propriétés ecclésiastiques par l’excommunication et l’anathème prononcés contre ceux qui leur portent atteinte, a glissé d’une part vers une tentative (plus tard récupérée par le pouvoir civil57) de l’autorité ecclésiastique épiscopale pour étendre sa juridiction, d’autre part vers la sacralisation de ceux qui luttent par les armes contre ces “spoliateurs” pour établir ou rétablir les droits des églises. La trêve de Dieu La trêve de Dieu, elle aussi, contribue indirectement, par sa condamnation des “mauvaises guerres” violant l’espace temporel sacré, à la sanctification de celles qui sont menées pour la bonne cause. On le voit dès 1027 à Elne. Comme les assemblées de paix antérieures, le concile interdit d’attaquer moine ou clerc sans armes, ni aucun homme accompagnant des femmes, ou se rendant à l’église ou au concile, et d’enfreindre des églises. La nouveauté réside dans le premier décret limitant le temps d’usage légitime de la guerre privée: Les évêques, les clercs et les fidèles prescrivirent que nul habitant de ce comté ou de cet évéché ne pourrait attaquer l’un de ses ennemis depuis la 9ème heure du samedi jusqu’à la première heure du lundi, afin que chacun puisse rendre l’honneur dû au jour du seigneur.58

Pourquoi un tel décret voit-il le jour ici, à l’initiative de l’évêque de Vic, Oliba? L’hypothèse avancée par D. Barthélémy me semble plausible: en ces régions catalanes, dit-il, on soutient encore vers l’an mil l’idée d’une guerre pour la patrie chrétienne ou gothique: la reconquista. Des raids mènent la chevalerie catalane ou occitane jusqu’en plein coeur de l’Espagne musulmane. Et là, pas de dimanche qui tienne! Du coup, les chevaliers ont peut-être besoin qu’on les rappelle aux normes chrétiennes, à l’usage qui régit les guerres privées. En d’autre termes, la guerre contre les musulmans est assez juste, voire sainte en elle-même pour qu’on puisse la mener également le jour du seigneur. Nicolas Ier l’avait déjà, en 866, affirmé aux Bulgares: en cas de nécessité, on peut combattre les païens en tout temps, y compris lors des jours de fêtes les plus sacrées.59 Mais les guerres privées, les faides, n’ont pas ces traits de sacralité: elles doivent attendre des jours moins sanctifiés. Un concile de Vic, tenu peut-être en 1033, reprend les mêmes prescriptions et les étend.60

57 Voir sur ce point Aryeh Grabois, “De la trêve de Dieu à la paix du roi; étude sur les transformations du mouvement de paix au XIIème siècle”, dans Mélanges René Crozet (Poitiers, 1966), p. 585–96. 58 Mansi, Concilia, 19:483–84. 59 Nicolas I, “Responsa Nicolai ad consulta Bulgarorum (a. 866)”, MGH Epistolae 6:581 (cc. 34, 36). 60 Mansi, Concilia, 19:1073–5; texte voisin, avec quelques variantes, dans Hartmut Hoffmann, Gottesfriede und Treuga Dei (Stuttgart, 1964), p. 260–63.

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Au concile d’Arles (1037–1041), l’évêque Raimbaud et ses suffragants, en compagnie d’Odilon de Cluny, étendent la durée de la trêve du mercredi soir au lundi matin; ils demandent aux évêques de Gaule et d’Italie de promouvoir et diffuser cette paix qu’ils disent inspirée du ciel.61 Là encore, le concile manie à la fois promesses de récompense et menaces spirituelles: celui qui respectera cette décision sera absout, celui qui la violera sera excommunié. Si quelqu’un tue un homme pendant l’un de ces jours de trêve, il devra faire en pénitence le lointain pèlerinage de Jérusalem. S’il viole la trêve d’une autre manière, il sera puni conformément aux lois civiles et, en outre, il subira une double pénitence ecclésiastique. Toutefois, notons-le, combattre et punir le violateur de la trêve en tout temps n’est jamais un délit, mais une oeuvre pie: “Celui qui punira tout transgresseur de cette trêve de Dieu doit être regardé comme exempt de toute faute, et les chrétiens doivent le bénir comme faisant l’oeuvre de Dieu.”62 C’est là une nouvelle étape dans la sacralisation de l’action guerrière entreprise contre les ennemis de la paix et de l’Eglise. A Saint-Gilles-du-Gard (1042), l’assemblée interdit à tout soldat (miles) quels que soient son rang et les raisons invoquées, de porter les armes depuis ce jour (4 septembre) jusqu’à la saint Jean (24 juin), sauf autorisation de l’évêque. C’est là une nouvelle tentative de subordonner toute activité guerrière à la décision de l’autorité de l’Eglise, jointe à une réaffirmation du caractère sacré et inviolable de la propriété ecclésiastique. En 1054, qu’on le veuille ou non, le concile de Narbonne traduit un pas supplémentaire dans cette direction. Les participants y réaffirment les décisions antérieures, parmi lesquelles l’interdiction de tuer un chrétien, car “celui qui tue un chrétien répand, sans aucun doute, le sang du Christ”. Si un tel homicide est commis, il devra en être fait réparation selon la loi. Le concile rappelle que la trêve de Dieu doit être observée fermement par tous, du mercredi soir au lundi matin.63 L’assemblée réaffirme plusieurs autres décrets antérieurs sur la protection des églises, des biens des chanoines, des moines et des moniales, “car ces biens ont été donnés par les fidèles pour l’usage des clercs”; sur les laïcs qui ne doivent pas détenir de terres ecclésiastiques, etc. (articles 11 à 18). Le concile interdit, en cas de litige foncier ou de dettes, de se venger soi-même: on devra engager une procédure judiciaire devant l’évêque et le pouvoir public. Il interdit aussi pillages et rapines sur tout chrétien, homme ou femme. Il sera même interdit de s’emparer des chevaliers dans le seul but d’en tirer rançon, ni des juments (sauf si elles sont montées par un homme armé), ni des biens des marchands et des oratores. En bref, on s’attaquera aux guerriers du camp ennemi, mais ni aux populations désarmées, ni aux animaux,

61 Mansi, Concilia, 19:594–96; MGH Constitutiones 1:596–97; trad. dans Karl Joseph von Hefele et Henri M. Leclercq, Histoire des conciles, 12 vols (Paris, 1907–52), 4/2:971–72. 62 Hefele et Leclercq, Histoire des conciles 4/2:973. 63 Mansi, Concilia, 19:827–32.

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ni à la terre. Tous les violateurs de cette paix seront exclus de l’Eglise et privés des sacrements. Les décrets de Narbonne ne sont pas, il est vrai, très novateurs. Ils sont l’aboutissement d’une évolution dont nous venons de retracer les étapes principales. Toutefois, en assimilant tous les chrétiens au corps du Christ, ils traduisent une volonté de généralisation des mesures contre les méfaits de la guerre privée au sein de la chrétienté, dont les principales victimes étaient d’abord les propriétés ecclésiastiques; quant aux violateurs dénoncés, ce sont évidemment des guerriers qui, par la force, lèsent les intérêts des églises au profit de ceux de leurs maîtres, seigneurs laïcs. Le fond du problème est là: il faut “libérer les églises” de cette mainmise laïque entraînant des conflits armés auxquels, parfois, participent les ecclésiastiques. Ce sera la tâche majeure de la réforme grégorienne. Il se trouve que l’on connaît un cas exemplaire de tels conflits opposants seigneuries laïques et ecclésiastiques, en liaison avec la paix de Dieu, à l’époque, précisément, de ce concile de Limoges. En 1059, en effet, le vicomte Béranger de Narbonne vient porter plainte contre son évêque: pour s’émanciper de la tutelle laïque du vicomte, celui-ci avait recruté des milites et guerroyé à leur tête; en 1043, toutefois, gagné par le désir de paix, il avait renoncé, au concile d’Arles, à l’usage de la force. Il avait jeté lui-même l’anathème sur ceux qui violeraient la paix de Dieu, fussent-ils de son propre camp. Or, peu après, il s’était à nouveau “adoubé” à la manière d’un chevalier (non multo post acceptis armis ut miles) pour guerroyer. Le voici donc violateur de sa propre trêve, à la tête de ses milites. Bien plus: le voilà qui utilise les amendes prélevées sur les violateurs de la paix pour recruter et solder des milites mercenaires qui tuent l’un des vassaux du vicomte et viennent tranquillement se remettre sous la protection de l’évêque. Le vicomte, un laïc, se plaint donc du non respect de la paix de Dieu par l’évêque qui l’a initiée et jurée! Peut-être le vicomte est-il lui-même l’un de ces “spoliateurs” des biens d’église? Ou bien l’évêque abuse-t-il de ses prérogatives de “paix” pour agir à son détriment? Ou bien les deux? La paix de Dieu, en tout cas, semble bien être ici un instrument destiné surtout à protéger les intérêts matériels de l’Eglise et à accroître sa juridiction, et par conséquent ses revenus: la “paix de Dieu”, on le sait, est rentable par les amendes qu’elle procure. Conclusion La paix de Dieu n’est donc pas, comme on l’a longtemps cru, ce grand mouvement politico-social universel par lequel l’Eglise, prenant acte du déclin de l’autorité royale et de l’inertie du pouvoir central, prendrait le relais de la puissance publique défaillante pour tenter de sauver ce qui pouvait l’être dans une société féodale troublée et anarchique. Par ces conciles, l’Eglise a essentiellement voulu protéger ses propriétés des empiètements des seigneuries laïques, se libérer de leur emprise jugée illégitime. Se faisant, elle jette l’opprobre et l’anathème sur ceux qui prennent

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les armes contre ses intérêts, mais valorise au contraire ceux qui combattent pour les défendre. Par la paix de Dieu, l’Eglise ne cherche pas à interdire la guerre et à promouvoir la paix: elle “moralise” la paix et la guerre en fonction de leurs objectifs et de ses propres intérêts; c’est en cela, précisément, que la paix de Dieu constitue une étape préparatoire importante de la formation de l’idée de croisade. Car la croisade est avant tout, j’y insiste à nouveau, une guerre sacralisée, une guerre sainte, on oserait presque dire “saintissime”. Il ne s’agit plus, comme dans le cas des milices de la paix de Dieu, des avoués ou des milites ecclesiae, de protéger les propriétés ecclésiastiques; ni même, comme dans le cas des milites ou fideles sancti Petri, de défendre le patrimoine pontifical, mais de reconquérir l’héritage du Christ, de libérer son tombeau. Il ne s’agit plus, comme à Bourges, de combattre des prévaricateurs en brandissant les bannières ecclésiastiques du saint patron lésé, mais d’aller, marqués du signe de la croix du Christ, combattre les Infidèles, les païens, spoliateurs des lieux saints. Entre la paix de Dieu et la croisade, il existe bien un lien indubitable, une filiation, une continuité idéologique, même si celle-ci est assortie d’un saut qualitatif dû à la présence, dans la croisade, de nombreux autres facteurs de sacralisation sur lesquels j’ai récemment attiré l’attention.64

64

Cf. Jean Flori, “Les héros changés en saints ... et les saints en héros. Sacralisation et béatification du guerrier dans l’épopée et les chroniques de la première croisade”, Prisma 30 (1999), p. 255–72; Jean Flori, “Jérusalem terrestre, céleste et spirituelle: trois facteurs de sacralisation de la première croisade”, à paraître dans Segundas Jornadas Internacionales sobre la Primera Cruzada (Huesca, 7–11 set. 1999), éd. Luis García-Guijarro Ramos. Voir surtout Jean Flori, La guerre sainte (Paris 2001).

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Memoria e memorie di un cavaliere: Caffaro di Genova Gabriella Airaldi Università degli Studi di Genova Incontriamo per la prima volta Guglielmo Embriaco il 17 giugno 1099 sotto le mura di Giaffa. Egli fa la sua comparsa quasi di sfuggita in compagnia del fratello Primo. Secondo il genovese Caffaro, compagno di Guglielmo in molte avventure oltremarine, i fratelli comandavano due galee. Secondo un altro testimone coevo e attendibile, Raimondo di Aguilers, cappellano e cancelliere di Raimondo conte di Saint Gilles in ottimi rapporti con i Genovesi, le galee erano sei.1 Qualunque sia stato il numero delle azzurre galee (ma non si capisce perché Caffaro, tenace laudator temporis acti, debba mentire), l’apparizione di Guglielmo viene collocata al culmine della crociata, a un mese dall’inizio dell’assedio, nel momento che precede immediatamente la conquista di Gerusalemme, eventosimbolo al quale tutto il mondo guarda, compreso il gruppo dirigente genovese, che, proprio attraverso le parole del cronista, troverà il modo di farne un buon uso propagandistico. In ogni caso, tutte le testimonianze coincidono nel sottolineare che, incombendo il pericolo di un assalto islamico da Ascalona, i due fratelli procedettero rapidamente alla distruzione delle galee e, con il legname trasportato sotto le mura di Gerusalemme, costruirono quelle macchine destinate a favorire la vittoria.2 Racconta ancora Raimondo di Aguilers, che ama diffondersi in particolari quando la situazione riguarda il suo signore (e i Genovesi sono ottimi amici del conte di Saint Gilles) che, subito dopo il loro arrivo, il conte inviò loro incontro due distaccamenti, uno formato da venti cavalieri e cinquanta fantaccini, sotto la guida di Geldemaro Carpinel, seguito dall’altro di cinquanta cavalieri al comando di Raimondo Pilet e Guglielmo di Sabran. Mentre il primo contingente attraversava la pianura di Ramla, venne attaccato dal nemico, superiore in forze. Fortunatamente arrivò il secondo, i Turchi fuggirono e i crociati proseguirono la loro strada. Furono

1 Caffaro, “De liberatione civitatum Orientis”, ed. Luigi Tommaso Belgrano, in Annali genovesi di Caffaro e de’ suoi continuatori, vol. 1, FISI 11 (Roma, 1890), p. 110; Raimondo di Aguilers, Historia Francorum qui ceperunt Iherusalem, ed. John H. e Laurita L. Hill (Paris, 1969), pp. 141, 147. 2 Caffaro, “De liberatione”, p. 110. Cf. Cesare Imperiale di Sant’Angelo, Caffaro e i suoi tempi (Torino–Roma, 1894), pp. 81–141; Franco Cardini, “Profilo di un crociato. Guglielmo Embriaco”, Archivio Storico Italiano 497–498 (1978), 405–36; Gabriella Airaldi, Genova e la Liguria nel medioevo (Torino, 1987), pp. 19–30; Jacques Heers, Libérer Jérusalem. La première croisade (Paris, 1995), pp. 265–70; Gabriella Airaldi, “The Genoese Art of Warfare”, nel Across the Mediterranean Frontiers. Trade, Politics and Religion, 650–1450, ed. Dionisius A. Agius e Ian R. Netton (Turnhout, 1997), pp. 269–82.

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accolti dai marinai genovesi con un festino a base di pane, vino e pesci; ma avendo trascurato di mettere sentinelle, il giorno dopo si trovarono circondati da una flotta nemica. Una delle navi riuscì a forzare il blocco, grazie al vento favorevole e alla bravura dei rematori e a guadagnare Laodicea. Altri marinai abbandonarono le navi e raggiunsero il campo crociato. L’arrivo dei genovesi con il loro capo Guglielmo Embriaco ebbe un effetto rincuorante; molti crociati, che già avevano raggiunto il Giordano e si erano immersi nelle sue acque, speravano di riguadagnare il loro paese sulle navi genovesi; ma in effetti ogni fuga era impossibile. Si approntarono dunque le torri lignee, e il conte di Tolosa fece costruire la sua dai Genovesi (era nota la loro capacità in proposito che si accompagnava all’abilità dei loro balestrieri) sotto la guida di Guglielmo Embriaco e con l’aiuto di prigionieri saraceni. Toccò quindi a lui e a loro condurre l’attacco da sud ed entrare dalla porta di Davide.3 Più asciutto, in consonanza con uno stile che richiama il “tipo antropologico freddo” congeniale ai Genovesi, Caffaro lascia invece cadere, con grande maestria, nel bel mezzo di un racconto che prende le mosse da lontano, l’immagine del suo eroe: Durante il mese di assedio, giunsero a Giaffa con due galere i genovesi Guglielmo Embriaco e suo fratello Primo, ma non poterono ancorare le navi in quel porto per timore dei Saraceni di Ascalona. Perciò le distrussero e fecero portare a Gerusalemme tutto il legname che serviva alla costruzione delle macchine da assedio per prendere la città. I crociati, molto lieti dell’arrivo dei genovesi, li ricevettero con ogni onore e li fecero partecipare ai loro consigli di guerra in cui si discuteva sul modo di impadronirsi della città. I genovesi costruirono le macchine e tutto il necessario. . ..4

Attraverso le scarne parole di Caffaro, inserite nel bel mezzo di un’opera propagandistica dedicata ai rapporti tra Genova e l’area mediorientale, conosciuta con il titolo De liberatione civitatum Orientis, dedicata al periodo 1095–1109, ma stesa alla metà del secolo, Guglielmo Embriaco, che fa la sua prima comparsa su una nave e poi, trasformato da marinaio in guerriero, sa approntare le torri per l’assedio alla città santa, diventa quasi naturalmente il simbolo del cavaliere che, messi da parte i tornei, si impegna, con uguale baldanza ed uguale naturalezza, in operazioni marittime e commerciali, piratesche o di guerra santa, come dimostra l’ambiguità di quella sua apparizione, così improvvisa e così efficace nel momento decisivo. Qualunque sia stata la ragione che ha portato i due fratelli e le loro navi nel Mediterraneo orientale, in un’operazione all’apparenza privata, sono le parole di Caffaro, poche e ben meditate, a rivelare il significato volontariamente sotteso: i Genovesi navigano abitualmente nel Mediterraneo, come attestano altre imprese da loro compiute, che l’autore colloca nelle prime righe di un’altra opera destinata a renderlo famoso nei secoli, la sua grande storia di Genova. Nel 1152, infatti, 3

Raimondo di Aguilers, Historia, pp. 141–45. Caffaro, “De liberatione”, p. 110; trad. it. Caffaro, La liberazione delle città d’Oriente, traduzione e note di M. Montanari, introduzione di G. Andenna (Genova, 2001), pp. 65–66. 4

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all’incirca negli stessi anni e forse per le stesse ragioni, per le quali sono stese De liberatione civitatum Orientis e l’altra operetta, dedicata alla crociata antislamica occidentale, conosciuta come la Ystoria captionis Almarie et Turtuose, Caffaro presenta ai consoli cittadini i suoi Annales, un’opera che abbraccia tutta la prima fase del nuovo ciclo della vicenda non solo locale, ma internazionale, caratteristica di una potenza quale Genova è alla metà del secolo XII, come egli per primo scientemente propone. E’ una storia che combacia con l’arco della sua lunga vita e che, con un gesto unico per quei tempi, destinato a collocare l’annalistica genovese su un piano diverso rispetto a quello di altre città, viene immediatamente recepita come testimonianza ufficiale. Si tratta di un segnale forte del controllo imposto dall’oligarchia dominante sulla memoria che deve disegnare e tramandare la sua immagine. Un gruppo di grandi famiglie, che governa senza sosta e senza avvicendamenti da più di mezzo secolo e che decide, in analogia ad altri esempi coevi – basta pensare alle varianti della storiografia normanna e francese o alle altre “memorie” crociate – di usare la scrittura come “medium” per raccontare una storia che, in quanto registrazione di eventi, immagini, documenti, ricordi personali, con la sua illusione di oggettività, deve essere “verità”; e che, dopo aver fatto assurgere, attraverso precisi meccanismi, le sue vicende a “mito delle origini”, con la conservazione perpetua del testo scritto nei pubblici archivi, ne propone la valenza duratura e la funzione esemplare. Il modello che viene da un glorioso passato deve essere fonte di teoria politica utile ad una legittimazione di un presente meno facile, nel quale, infatti, in un breve volgere d’anni, saranno proposte altre operazioni d’immagine: la celebrazione delle spedizioni condotte su Almeria e Tortosa, riprese in un affresco dentro la stessa cattedrale di San Lorenzo; o, poco più tardi, le epigrafi di carattere autocelebrativo, che ancora si leggono sulla porta Soprana, che chiude la nuova cerchia di mura alzata in tutta fretta, nel timore di un assalto del Barbarossa, con il quale, fatti i conti, gli aristocratici uomini d’affari non avranno sempre cattivi rapporti.5 In realtà, al di là di eventuali ragioni contingenti, l’ “attualizzazione della storia” compiuta da Caffaro di fatto propone l’accreditamento del nuovo sistema di cui egli è parte, che trova nel modello comunale la sua formulazione ormai irrinunciabile. Operazione non facile, poiché si tratta di un sistema sgradito, e perfino incomprensibile per la sua apparente alterità ai grandi sistemi autocratici (lo esprime con chiarezza Ottone di Frisinga, seguito nei secoli da molti altri europei), che avranno sempre buon gioco a tacciar di “mercanti” quegli aristocratici che collaborano alla crociata. Si tratta, quindi, di un’operazione, alla quale può dar vita soltanto l’aedo giusto per quell’ambiente e per quella proposta. Un cavaliere che appartenga all’aristocrazia viscontile e consolare; un uomo che abbia visto e vissuto direttamente come console, diplomatico, guerriero e uomo d’affari, molte delle più importanti azioni politiche ed economiche che hanno scandito l’azione 5 Caffaro, “Ystoria captionis Almarie et Turtuose”, ed. Luigi Tommaso Belgrano, in Annali genovesi di Caffaro, pp. 77–94.

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progressiva di quella “oligarchia” nuova, ma non più nuovissima dopo mezzo secolo di governo, della quale appare opportuno, per molte ragioni, rinsaldare il potere, creando un’immagine “forte”. Bisogna raccontare che quella città, ora al centro del quadro internazionale, è nata e cresciuta sull’opera di grandi consorzi familiari; dei loro uomini e delle loro donne, che hanno intrecciato sangue, scelte e fortune economiche, proponendo un sistema, che proprio perché mantiene alla sua base la grande famiglia e i suoi alleati, risulta saldo sul piano politico, economico e sociale sia nella vita interna che nelle sue ben controllate proiezioni internazionali; arrivando perfino a riflettere nella struttura urbana della città la propria opzione sociale e culturale. Inoltre che, superato, con una precisa scelta di campo, il discrimine di fine secolo XI, il Comune genovese, che continuerà sempre a connotarsi come una grande “Compagna” di famiglie e di individui, ha continuato a ricevere un deciso appoggio da una Chiesa locale a sua volta rinnovata e ben controllata, elemento determinante delle fortune genovesi, per la funzione di rappresentanza assunta dal vescovo (poi arcivescovo dal 1133) in sede internazionale – come dimostrano anche i primi privilegi oltremarini, non casualmente raccolti solo nel Liber Privilegiorum Ecclesie Ianuensis – e la catena delle operazioni immobiliari di monasteri, ospedali e chiese sulle vie di comunicazione ai fianchi e alle spalle della città, che precedono e accompagnano alleanze o azioni militari, tese alla costruzione di quella rete, in cui far convergere al meglio la funzione svolta di Genova, “porta” tra l’Europa occidentale e il Mediterraneo. Dove, infatti, anche le ceneri di San Giovanni Battista e la chiesa del Santo Sepolcro, il “Sacro Catino” e la gerosolimitana San Giovanni di Pré giocheranno un ruolo importantissimo.6 Come gli altri leaders della sua città, Caffaro aveva combattuto con gli uomini delle sue terre e le sue navi in battaglie campali e navali; aveva partecipato alla conquista di caposaldi portuali importanti per il traffico internazionale e alla spartizione dei relativi bottini, operazioni da lui descritte con rara efficacia; aveva battuto più volte le zone del Mediterraneo orientale, misurando a cavallo o a bordo della nave – come ricorda nell’opera dedicata alla liberazione delle città d’Oriente – la lunghezza dei percorsi, e segnalando le particolarità dei luoghi incontrati. E’ questa una precoce dimostrazione delle ben note capacità cartografiche dei Genovesi, che, pur imbevuti di una cultura tradizionale che considera la terra un orbis tripartitus e colloca il Mediterraneo al centro del mondo (medium terre tenens), ritenevano, come i geografi arabi che allora giravano il mondo e lo descrivevano, l’esperienza diretta e le conoscenze derivate altrettanto importanti dei saperi tradizionali. Ma Caffaro è anche l’uomo che descrive i miracoli, a cui dice di 6

Cf. Avner Greif, “On the Political Foundation of the Late Medieval Commercial Revolution: Genoa During the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries”, Journal of Economic History 54 (1994), 271–87; Steven A. Epstein, Genoa and the Genoese, 958–1528 (Chapel Hill and London, 1996), pp. 28–40; John B. Williams, “The Making of a Crusade: the Genoese Anti-Muslim Attacks in Spain, 1146–1148”, Journal of Medieval History 23 (1997), 29–53.

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avere assistito, con il fresco fideismo dell’uomo medievale. L’immagine di sé che offre ad un moderno lettore va molto al di là del suo ruolo di memorizzatore; ma egli presenta il suo prodotto solo dopo aver meditato “con il cuore e con la mente”.7 Di pura origine viscontile, un po’ guerriero e un po’uomo d’affari, Caffaro è anche un intellettuale che, per costruire la sua opera, sa dissezionare la realtà per ridisegnarla a suo piacere. Descrive la tormentata realtà cittadina in cui vive, scegliendo raffinate espressioni letterarie, che lascia cadere con parsimonia al centro di un racconto misurato e steso in un latino preciso e severo. E’ il cantore giusto della storia dell’eroe scelto come simbolo del cambiamento e protagonista della nuova storia e, al tempo stesso, é l’“alter ego” mediterraneo di chi propone Artù e Roland come modelli della propria storia. Ma la tela costruita da Caffaro è assai più complessa. Essa prevede, infatti, che qualsiasi protagonismo, individuale o di gruppo, venga riassorbito in una sorta di coralità; dove le vicende dei leaders diventino canzone di una collettività sempre protesa oltre le mura, la cui palestra operativa siano i grandi spazi del Mediterraneo intero, come egli dimostra nella ben studiata trilogia delle sue opere e nell’impianto della cronaca. Senza quel mare la storia dei Genovesi non esiste; anzi, senza quel mare è la storia dell’Europa a non esistere. E, viceversa, il Mediterraneo non vive davvero senza questi uomini, che hanno deciso di impegnarvi le loro vite e le loro fortune in un gioco che egli ben conosce perché ne è stato tra i creatori. La sua cronaca di Genova e le altre due opere, una dedicata al Mediterraneo orientale e l’altra al Mediterraneo occidentale, da leggere non solo come storia di una città, ma come incontro di più volontà, sono le prime opere storiche d’età medievale a proporre due temi di fondo. Il primo consiste nell’aver posto in rilievo l’essenzialità del ruolo svolto dall’Europa mediterranea nel quadro della costruzione di un modello europeo di sviluppo mediante la promozione del mercato e del capitalismo finanziario. Il secondo indica il Mediterraneo come protagonista assoluto di una storia di lunga durata, interpretata come intreccio di forze vive, e nella loro diversità, operose, qualunque sia la natura contingente del loro rapporto. Nessuno degli storici dell’età medievale usa, come Caffaro, il Mediterraneo come il “filo rosso” di una storia europea, letta in prospettiva non tradizionale come una “storia di orizzonti aperti”. Erede di una precisa tradizione culturale l’autore ha i suoi modelli, e tuttavia se ne stacca, spinto dalla sua identità euromediterranea, dalla sua vocazione sperimentale di genovese, che, pur legato al castello e alla terra, non può fare a meno né del mare né del mercato, di cui il Mediterraneo stesso è culla antichissima. L’uomo che appartiene alla città-comune dell’Europa mediterranea, microcosmo che, inglobando in sé le scelte politiche ed economiche, propone una nuova cultura del denaro, prende le distanze dall’histoire évenementielle, e ripensando un percorso storico, guarda istintivamente alla media e lunga durata, senza le quali non

7 La citazione è tratta da Caffaro, “Annales”, p. 3; trad. it. Gli Annali di Caffaro (1099–1163), a cura di Gabriella Airaldi (Genova, 2002), p. 61.

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capirebbe il complesso dialogo tra le due sponde, intrecciato di contenuti politici, economici e culturali che vanno ben oltre la pura contingenza. D’altra parte, la città, e soprattutto la città-stato, al pari del medium usato, la storia, é una creazione di quel Mediterraneo, che il cronista genovese per primo colloca nei materiali storiografici, facendone il cuore del suo racconto. Così i ricordi del vecchio Caffaro, destinati fino a quel momento ad essere solo oggetto di racconto e di ascolto, trasformati in “documento”, diventano la “memoria” di una città, che si propone ufficialmente, anche sotto questo profilo, come erede della grande tradizione mediterranea, nella quale storia e memoria coincidono. Sul piano metodologico, la sequenza narrativa proposta dal cronista, condotta sui ritmi cronologici imposti dalla magistratura consolare, espressione di una “Compagna” formata essenzialmente dai maiores cittadini e non cittadini, cooptati per l’eminenza del loro consorzio familiare, pur mettendo talvolta in primo piano l’azione individuale, tende a riassorbirla immediatamente in un contesto più ampio, inteso a creare quel bilanciamento tra individuo, famiglia e collettività, che caratterizza la novità del sistema. Ciò consente, quando necessario, di estrapolare eventi e figure, mantenendo salda l’illusione di una interpretazione corale. Nello stesso tempo, la creazione di una vera e propria “genealogia” consolare, legata all’evento e all’eroe mitico fondatori, implica la legittimazione e la “consacrazione” del sistema e del gruppo di potere che lo ha voluto e che ancora governa. Il modello individuato sarà costantemente ripreso dai successivi cronisti. Per questa complessa via si ricostruisce la fisionomia di un ceto dirigente, creatore di un sistema originale e durevole nei secoli, in cui l’economia dell’espansione, pur nella varietà dei suoi giochi d’investimento, ha mantenuto integra l’identità tra consoli e consorzi familiari. Ambedue hanno giocato la stessa partita nell’impegno costante, mercantile e guerriero, fatto di alleanze matrimoniali e di oculate aggregazioni di alleati, volto ad un accrescimento del “bene pubblico” inteso sempre come bene patrimoniale. Attraverso la fedeltà a questo modello, che è e resta una singolare commistione di arcaismo e modernità, si è definitivamente cancellata la fisionomia provinciale della città. Dopo Gerusalemme, secondo il racconto di Caffaro, i due fratelli presero parte alla battaglia di Ramla insieme con il duca Goffredo di Buglione. Anche Goffredo, come Raimondo di Saint Gilles e Boemondo di Taranto, nonché suo fratello Baldovino, futuro primo re di Gerusalemme, è presentato da Caffaro come un personaggio in buoni rapporti con i Genovesi. Come scrive il cronista in apertura all’operetta dedicata all’Oriente, la sua decisione di partire con Roberto di Fiandra ed altri per compiere il suo iter hyerosolimitanus dal porto genovese sulla genovese “Pomella”,8 vera o no che sia, lascia comunque intravvedere la volontà di

8

Caffaro, “De liberatione”, pp. 99–100.

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accreditare un altro fatto importante. E cioè che il viaggio di Goffredo presso Raimondo di Saint Gilles al ritorno da questo pellegrinaggio dalle conseguenze fatali, collocando nel Midi l’elaborazione di una crociata che si sviluppa nell’ambito di concorrenti volontà tra amici di Genova, fa della città un nodo decisivo, il porto designato dalle forze eurooccidentali, decise a promuovere una più organica politica di espansione. Saccheggiato il campo saraceno, il duca si fermò a Giaffa, mentre molti crociati, chi partendo da Laodicea, chi da San Simeone, se ne tornarono a casa. Tra quelli che rimasero ci fu Raimondo di Saint Gilles, che però decise di andarsene a Bisanzio. I genovesi – dice Caffaro – vale a dire Guglielmo Embriaco e Primo, suo fratello, si erano impadroniti di grandi quantità di denaro, di oro, d’argento e di gemme preziose sottraendole al principe di Babilonia quando quest’ultimo venne sconfitto dai crociati e fu costretto ad abbandonare i suoi beni sul campo di battaglia. Essi erano quelli che avevano portato le due galere a Giaffa e del legname avevano fatto macchine d’assedio, con le quali fu conquistata Gerusalemme. Quindi i fratelli Embriaci [sic!], con tutto il denaro che avevano preso, traversarono il mare sulla galera che avevano acquistato e giunsero a Genova alla vigilia di Natale, portando con sé lettere che riferivano della presa di Gerusalemme e nelle quali il patriarca Daiberto e Goffredo, signore del regno di Gerusalemme, che costituivano la curia gerosolimitana, chiedevano di ricevere i necessari soccorsi. Dopo che i genovesi ebbero ascoltato la lettura delle lettere che incoraggiavano a soccorrere il sepolcro del Signore, interruppero immediatamente le guerre e le controversie che avevano tra di loro, a causa delle quali erano rimasti per un anno e mezzo in discordia e senza poter eleggere consoli, e deposero le armi. A prendere la croce furono in tal numero che riuscirono a condurre al porto di Laodicea ben ventisei galere e quattro navi cariche di pellegrini per servire Dio e liberare il Santo Sepolcro.9

Le lettere gerosolimitane presero anche le strade lombarde, sicché furono molti a partire da quelle zone, con i noti, tragici risultati; mentre le ventisei galee e sei navi genovesi (il numero delle naves varia tra la cronaca e la De liberatione),10 partite sul far dell’agosto 1100, giunte a Laodicea, decisero di svernarvi. Ma le notizie, che i Genovesi ricevettero appena giunti, non furono buone. Dunque la seconda volta che incontriamo Guglielmo Embriaco, egli è ritratto come il salvatore della patria: Caffaro collega alla data del suo arrivo la definitiva soluzione dei problemi di una città fino a quel momento squassata da lotte feroci, di cui peraltro nulla dice l’autore. Certamente l’ascesa al soglio vescovile di Airaldo Guaracco, eletto nel 1097, ma consacrato solo ora e che viene definito dal suo parente Caffaro successore dei procubitores et barbari Oberto, Corrado, Ciriaco, Ogerio sostenitori di governi filo imperiali, ha un sapore rivoluzionario, se la si 9

La citazione è tratta da Caffaro, “De liberatione”, pp. 111–12; trad. it. La liberazione, pp. 67–69. La traduttrice aggiunge il cognome Embriaci assente nel testo originale seguendo comunque una tradizione diffusa, ma non esatta. Il cognome infatti inizia solo con Guglielmo. Da notare anche l’uso del termine “crociati” in luogo di “cristiani” costantemente usato da Caffaro. 10 Cf. Caffaro, “Annales”, p. 5.

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collega al mutamento politico in atto e al rientro di Guglielmo in un distensivo clima natalizio, con l’aggiunta dell’oro, dell’argento e delle gemme di Terrasanta, di fronte alle quali appare evidente che dopo la felice congiuntura di Antiochia si aprono altre possibilità. Ai primi di agosto del 1100, quando parte la grande spedizione che vedrà di nuovo Guglielmo eroe invitto a Cesarea, Caffaro rileva che si è a metà del ciclo consolare triennale voluto dalla nuova “Compagna” sulle rovine di un precedente consolato di cui nulla si sa. La nuova gestione politica accentua ulteriormente il carattere guerresco della sua politica continuando a caratterizzarlo in senso antislamico. Sulla base dei suoi successi si radicherà un potere economico e politico fortissimo, che, per oltre un secolo, sia pure a prezzo di lotte interne che non conosceranno tregua, non troverà ostacoli. Chiunque per la propria o la altrui utilità volesse avere notizia degli anni che vanno dalla spedizione marittima di Cesarea sino ad oggi, legga questo scritto comprovato dalla memoria di Caffaro e, lettolo, lo tenga per vero. Poiché Caffaro, dal tempo della suddetta spedizione sino ad oggi, resse e fu tra i consoli della città di Genova, vide e conobbe altri che furono consoli in quegli anni; meditando con il cuore e con la mente, annotò per propria iniziativa i loro nomi e i tempi, il variare dei consoli e delle compagne, le vittorie, i cambiamenti delle monete avvenuti in ciascun consolato, così come si legge oltre; e presentò questo scritto ai consoli che allora reggevano, Tanclerio, Rubaldo Bisaccia e Ansaldo Spinola, dinanzi all’intero consiglio. I consoli, sentito il parere di tutti e con il favore generale, ordinarono allo scriba pubblico Guglielmo di Colomba, di trascrivere il libro composto e redatto in note da Caffaro e di serbarlo nell’archivio del comune, affinché in futuro le vittorie dei genovesi fossero note a tutti: come partirono nel 1100, come tornarono nel 1101.11

Nella memoria di Caffaro, in quella dei suoi contemporanei e nella nostra viene dunque fissato un punto di non ritorno, dal quale far cominciare la vicenda della città; come infatti egli precisa ancor meglio all’inizio dei suoi annali: “Infatti al tempo della spedizione di Cesarea, appena prima, nella città dei genovesi ebbe inizio una compagna triennale, retta da sei consoli . . . Passato un anno e mezzo, il primo d’agosto, ventisei galee e sei navi salparono da Genova alla volta di Gerusalemme .. .”12 Ma se per Caffaro la storia nuova della sua città comincia al tempo della conquista della Città Santa, Gerusalemme è destinata a rimanere sullo sfondo nella sua opera principale, che, per decisione ufficiale, prende avvio dopo che la sua conquista è avvenuta. Sicché l’evento fondamentale, attorno al quale tutta l’operazione è costruita sul piano reale e su quello simbolico, appare una sola volta, gioiello incastonato al centro dell’opera specificamente dedicata all’Oriente, ma anch’essa monopolizzata dall’interesse convergente sui due poli sui quali si 11 12

La citazione è tratta da Caffaro, “Annales”, pp. 3–4; trad. it. Gli Annali, p. 61. Caffaro, “Annales”, p. 5; trad. it. Gli Annali, p. 63.

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concentra, a metà del secolo XII, l’attenzione dei Genovesi: Antiochia e Gibelletto. Tra essi l’apparizione di Gerusalemme è proposta in stretta simbiosi con quella dell’eroe, quasi fosse solo cornice di un’immagine destinata a entrare nel mito, che ha ispirato la produzione artistica di ogni tempo. Negli Annales il nome che subito conta è quello di Cesarea. Ed è sotto le mura di questa città, che incontriamo per la terza volta, nel luglio del 1101, Guglielmo Embriaco, in veste ufficiale di consul exercitus Ianuensis.13 E’ con lui il ventenne Caffaro, che di questa esperienza oltremarina saprà fare buon uso. Questa volta il ritratto di Guglielmo si completa e si arricchisce. E’ l’ultima volta che lo incontriamo nel ruolo che Caffaro gli attribuisce e che ora lo colloca all’inizio della cronaca del Comune, nella quale la spedizione di Cesarea rappresenta un punto chiave. Questa è, infatti, la prima operazione ufficiale voluta dal nuovo governo in carica ed è destinata a contribuire alla soluzione delle complesse vicende oltremarine che stanno tormentando il principato di Antiochia e il Regno ambedue in crisi. Boemondo è caduto in mano islamica e ciò rende necessario risolvere il problema di Antiochia; la morte improvvisa di Goffredo di Buglione ha lasciato sguarnito il Regno. Caffaro descrive con precisione minuziosa la dinamica dei fatti che coinvolgono Tancredi e Baldovino e l’azione, che egli soltanto sottolinea come determinante, svolta dai Genovesi in ambedue i casi. Lascia ben intendere le ragioni della presenza nel solo Liber Privilegiorum Ecclesie Ianuensis dei privilegi antiocheni, concessi da Boemondo alla Chiesa genovese e confermati proprio nel 1101 da Tancredi; le radici dell’ampia serie di privilegi ottenuta nelle città del Regno, che, invece, alla metà del secolo XII, hanno necessità, per varie ragioni, di rinnovate conferme, come viene bene illustrato dal canonico Manfredo a papa Adriano IV attraverso una preziosa nota scritta (forse la ricordata Lyberatio civitatum Orientis approntata da Caffaro per quello scopo?). Secondo Caffaro, Baldovino, giunto a Laodicea, dopo aver ricevuto i nunzi genovesi, accondiscese ad accettare la Corona in cambio dell’aiuto per la conquista di due città saracene.14 Questa fu la base della privilegiata condizione monopolistica, che i Genovesi ebbero inizialmente nel Regno, tutta dovuta a quel re che Caffaro definisce “uomo d’animo virile e cavaliere di Dio”. Nel dialogo che si svolge tra Baldovino e i capi genovesi nel campo invernale di Laodicea, fanno indirettamente la loro comparsa le novità istituzionali definitivamente maturate a Genova. Chi infatti aveva trattato la situazione ad Antiochia, lo aveva fatto con un margine di rappresentatività ridotto, rispondente alla situazione politica genovese ancora in fieri. Caffaro non offre spiegazioni di questo tipo, ma è evidente che ora esiste un ceto dirigente cittadino, quello che ha fatto di Guglielmo Embriaco il “console” dell’armata genovese e che in Levante tratta per bocca dei suoi inviati, che sono uomini del gruppo, tutte le problematiche emergenti al fine di ricavarne

13 14

Caffaro, “Annales”, p. 11. Ibid., pp. 5–6 e “De liberatione”, pp. 120–21.

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precisi risultati. Lo attesta il fatto che anche l’importante e generale privilegio di Baldovino per Genova, risalente al 1104,15 pur rilasciato ancora una volta alla cattedrale di San Lorenzo, è seguito dal giuramento di fedeltà e dalla promessa di aiuto nelle successive conquiste espressi solennemente dai consoli in carica (tra i quali c’è in quegli anni Guglielmo Embriaco).16 Le avventure di guerra per terra e per mare furono molte e Caffaro ne parla con ricchezza di particolari, dato che conosce bene la zona dove soggiornò più volte. Invece l’autore non fa mai cenno del “sacro furto” delle Ceneri del Battista avvenuto a Mira, né del recupero del “Sacro Catino” a Cesarea. Era un genere di rapine troppo abituale per i Genovesi, affezionati al traffico delle reliquie. Ricorda solo nell’opera minore che, nel corso di varie esercitazioni guerresche, i Genovesi si impadronirono delle dodici colonne, alte quindici palmi, di colore rosso,verde e giallo che ornavano il palazzo di Giuda Maccabeo, perse nel viaggio di ritorno nel corso di una tempesta.17 Nel giorno delle Palme finalmente i Genovesi arrivarono a Giaffa. L’insistenza di Baldovino nel richiedere il loro aiuto condusse Guglielmo e i suoi compagni a Gerusalemme. Lì, nel sabato santo, attesero, in digiuno presso il Santo Sepolcro che, ancora una volta, il fuoco di Cristo brillasse miracolosamente nelle sedici lampade.18 Ciò che avvenne con non pochi fatica e impegno di prelati e laici, come racconta Caffaro, sedotto da questa “tangibilità” del sacro, alla quale si deve comunque far riferimento per consacrare i protagonisti di questa storia di sangue e di violenza. “I genovesi nella settimana santa andarono al fiume Giordano, e in seguito con il re tornarono a Giaffa, dove tennero un consiglio; quindi si volsero verso Arsuf e la presero dopo combattimenti di tre giorni. Dopo, nel mese di maggio, si diressero contro Cesarea e, tratte le galee sulla terraferma, distrussero tutti i giardini sino alle mura della città e cominciarono a costruire macchine torri da assedio.”19 L’azione che si svolge sotto le mura di Cesarea è uno dei punti fondamentali della cronaca, per il grande spazio che occupa nel testo e per la profondità dei contenuti della parte narrativa che la riguarda, che va ben oltre il racconto di un puro e semplice atto di conquista. La scelta di campo è chiara, ma Caffaro è pur sempre un uomo che appartiene all’Europa mediterranea, area tradizionalmente aperta ad una politica di scambio con l’altra riva di quel mare che egli dimostra di conoscer bene e che, con Genova, è il vero protagonista della sua storia. La cooperazione produttiva ha segnato

15

In proposito da oltre trent’anni è in corso un dibattito, sul quale i più recenti interventi sono quelli di Antonella Rovere, “Rex Balduinus Ianuensibus privilegia firmavit et fecit. Sulla presunta falsità del diploma di Baldovino I in favore dei Genovesi”, Studi medievali 3.37 (1996), 95–133; Hans E. Mayer, “Genuesische Fälschungen. Zu einer Studie von Antonella Rovere”, Archiv für Diplomatik, Schriftgeschichte, Siegel- und Wappenkunde 45 (1999), 21–60. 16 Caffaro, “Annales”, p. 13. 17 Caffaro, “De liberatione”, p. 121. 18 Caffaro, “Annales”, pp. 7–9. 19 Ibid., p. 9; trad. it. Gli Annali, pp. 67–68.

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fortemente l’economia genovese; ed è perfino cresciuta da quando l’inversione di tendenza politica ha indotto ad azioni combinate di diverse forze europee in ambito ispanico, siciliano e mediterraneo. Caffaro collabora alla costruzione di un’ideologia antislamica e trasforma i suoi genovesi in milites Christi, arrivando perfino a paragonarli ai Maccabei, rivelando la sua sensibilità per operazioni culturali, che, altrove, rinviano al culto antisaraceno di Santiago, alla Chanson de Roland e ai cavalieri antislamici raffigurati sulle chiese. Ma le osservazioni, che lascia cadere qua e là, sono quelle di un uomo abituato a porsi qualche domanda in più. In effetti, sotto le mura di Cesarea, alla presenza di Caffaro e di Guglielmo Embriaco, si svolge un dialogo importante che, senza venir meno alla sua tragica sostanza, appare soffuso di una lieve malinconia, solo parzialmente nascosta dai toni orgogliosi e definitivi della vittoria, come se al freddo guerriero non sempre piacessero né le leggi della “guerra giusta” né le leggi economiche del mercato. Nel frattempo due saraceni uscirono dalla città e vennero a colloquio con il patriarca e il legato pontificio: “Signori, voi che siete maestri e dottori della legge cristiana, perché ordinate ai vostri che ci uccidano e prendano la nostra terra, quando nella vostra legge è scritto che non si uccida chi é fatto a immagine di Dio, né gli si prenda ciò che gli appartiene? E se è vero che questo è scritto nella vostra legge, e che noi siamo fatti a immagine del vostro Dio, allora andate contro la legge.” Mentre dicevano queste e molte altre cose, il patriarca così rispose loro: “E’ cosa vera che nella nostra legge è scritto di non rubare le cose altrui e di non uccidere, cose che non vogliamo fare o comandare. Però questa città non è vostra, ma fu e deve essere del beato Pietro, che i vostri avi cacciarono con la forza da essa. E se noi, che siamo vicari del beato Pietro, vogliamo recuperare la sua terra, non intendiamo perciò prendere le vostre cose. A proposito poi dell’uccidere, vi rispondiamo questo: si deve uccidere per vendetta colui che è contrario alla legge di Dio e combatte per distruggerla; se costui è ucciso, ciò non è contrario alla legge divina, perché Dio ha detto: ‘A me la vendetta e io ricambierò; percuoterò e guarirò, né c’è chi possa sfuggire alla mia mano.’ Perciò vi chiediamo di restituirci la terra del beato Pietro, e noi vi lasceremo andare tutti incolumi con le vostre cose. Ma se non ottempererete, Dio vi percuoterà con la sua spada e sarà giusto che rimaniate uccisi. Ora andate, e riferite ai vostri superiori quanto avete udito.” Questi subito tornarono indietro e narrarono in ordine tutte le cose così come le avevano sentite all’emiro signore dei guerrieri e al cadì signore dei mercanti. Il cadì era del parere di restituire la città, ma l’emiro disse: “Non restituirò la città, ma metteremo alla prova le nostre spade con quelle dei genovesi; e, con l’aiuto di Maometto, li respingeremo dalla città con loro disonore.” Quando i cristiani seppero della superbia saracena, allora il patriarca disse ai consoli: “Radunate il parlamento” e così fecero. E dinanzi all’assemblea il patriarca tenne un sermone al popolo: “Fratelli, poiché veniste sino qui per rendere servizio a Dio e al santissimo Sepolcro, è cosa buona e giusta che obbediate fedelmente ai precetti e agli ordini di Dio e dei suoi fedeli. Infatti Dio vi comanda e ordina per mio tramite che nel primo mattino di venerdì, il giorno della sua Passione, nel quale sopportò la morte al mondo per la vostra redenzione, prendiate il Corpo e il Sangue del Signore e senza torri e macchine d’assedio, ma solo con le scale delle galee, cominciate ad ascendere le mura della città. Ché, se lo farete, e riterrete di prendere la città per volontà di Dio e non vostra, vi profetizzo che Dio prima dell’ora sesta

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darà in vostro potere la città con uomini, donne e ricchezze e tutte le cose che vi sono dentro.”20

Per Caffaro, dunque, la storia genovese si apre con il delicato rinvio al tema della guerra giusta, molto dibattuto all’epoca sua. C’è l’adesione ufficiale, espressa attraverso le parole del patriarca, che servono a mettere solide giustificazioni all’impresa genovese; c’è un valore retorico del discorso, esempio di quelli abitualmente tenuti per rincuorare, al momento buono, un esercito in crisi e il ruolo che esso assume nell’artifizio dialogico. Ma la contestazione, messa in bocca ai Saraceni, illustra una posizione che, proprio perché collocata in una sede in cui si potrebbe rinunciare ai particolari del dibattito, sembra voler sfumare le certezze; e che appare volontariamente e chiaramente esplicitata, come se fosse necessario dimostrare la raffinatezza e la complessità di una contrapposizione ideologica, tale da richiedere verifiche anche sul campo di battaglia. Il testo lascia qualche dubbio sulla totale adesione di Caffaro a tanto grave decisione, completamente lasciata al Patriarca. La pietà del Dio raffigurato nelle sue parole ha limiti precisi, quasi a manifestare l’impossibilità del colloquio e della conversione; mentre ai Genovesi tocca una parte misericordiosa sia pure in un solo momento e in cambio di un pingue bottino. Caffaro è un aristocratico, per il quale guerra e commercio sono ambedue ragioni di vita. Al tempo in cui comincia a rielaborare le sue memorie per poi continuarle fino a tre anni prima della morte, il rapporto con l’Islam, difficile nell’area orientale del Mediterraneo, si è invece consolidato in quella occidentale, in cui solo la spedizione di Almeria e Tortosa resta a dimostrare l’adesione dei Genovesi al desiderio espresso dal loro amico Bernardo di Clairvaux (“Se sei un avveduto mercante, prendi la croce”). Essi non partecipano alla seconda crociata orientale, mentre intervengono in Spagna, dove auspicano di ottenere più solidi risultati. Trafficano molto e continuamente con l’“altro da sé”, che la pubblicistica identifica con l’Islam. Un ulteriore spunto di riflessione offre il racconto di ciò che avviene oltre le mura, con la descrizione dei ruoli dell’emiro e del cadì e la sottolineatura del contrasto tra la saggezza del secondo, naturalmente portato alla trattativa e l’altrettanto bellicosa arroganza del primo; il che rivela una conoscenza meditata delle istituzioni musulmane, quale soltanto può avere chi frequenta quel mondo. In ogni caso, alle parole decisive del Patriarca tutti risposero all’unisono con il tradizionale Fiat, fiat dei parlamenti cittadini, riproposto in quella lontana terra, come se, anche sotto le mura di Cesarea, si manifestasse la coerenza del sistema. Ed ecco entrare nuovamente in scena Guglielmo Embriaco. Su di lui Caffaro getta, con un vero coup de théatre di grande effetto, un fascio di luce improvvisa. Non si conoscono né la fisionomia né la storia di quest’uomo, del quale tuttavia 20

Caffaro, “Annales”, pp. 9–11; trad. it. Gli Annali, pp. 67–69. A proposito di questo dibattito e delle sue argomentazioni cfr. Benjamin Z. Kedar, Crusade and Mission. European Approaches toward the Muslims (Princeton, 1984), pp. 97–98.

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l’amico suggerisce, attraverso l’appellativo guerriero di Caputmallei, l’evidente prestanza fisica e le capacità tecniche dell’uomo di mare e costruttore di macchine da guerra, che sa essere capo politico e militare e diplomatico attento alla salvaguardia degli interessi familiari, come insegna il caso di Gibelletto e non solo quello. Ma ora, attraverso le parole che Caffaro gli mette sulle labbra, possiamo forse conoscere qualcuna delle idee del capo genovese di questa spedizione crociata destinato all’arduo compito di apparire e non solo di essere quello che realmente è: il signore medievale che incita i suoi uomini e il console dell’esercito di una città, di cui egli stesso rappresenta uno dei vertici. Qui, per la prima e unica volta, la voce di Guglielmo e quella di Caffaro s’identificano ed è questa felice coincidenza ad imprimersi nella memoria collettiva, che fino ad oggi ha celebrato nell’uno e nell’altro la nascita di una “nuova storia”. Subito dopo Guglielmo Testadimaglio, console della spedizione genovese, si alzò e disse: “O cittadini e guerrieri di Dio, ora che avete sentito per bocca del patriarca gli ordini del Signore, non tardate a eseguire. Vi ordiniamo, sotto il vincolo del giuramento, che domani mattina dopo la messa, dopo esservi confessati e aver ricevuto il Corpo e il Sangue del Signore, senza torri né macchine d’assedio, ma solo con le scale delle galee, veniate dietro di me e assaliate senza indugio le mura della città. Difatti, se Dio me lo concederà, io comincerò per primo a salire la scala, e quando mi vedrete salire, non tardate a fare lo stesso.” Giunto il mattino, tutti cominciarono ad adempiere coraggiosamente agli ordini; quando tutte le scale furono appoggiate alle mura, il console Guglielmo Testadimaglio con solo l’usbergo, l’elmo e la spada, salì sulla scala con molti che gli venivano dietro sino alla sommità delle mura, e lì rimase solo: infatti, rottasi la scala, tutti quelli che lo seguivano erano caduti per terra. La città aveva una cinta di mura intermedie, e tutti i saraceni stavano fuggendo verso quella cerchia, raccogliendosi all’interno. Ma il console, non avendo visto alcuno che lo seguiva, cominciò a raccomandarsi a Dio perché gli mostrasse la cosa migliore da fare. E subito, senza indugi, prese ad ascendere una torre; e mentre saliva, un saraceno che scendeva dalla torre si lanciò su di lui e lo afferrò forte con le braccia, e il console si strinse a lui. Mentre erano avvinghiati, il saraceno disse: “Lasciami e sarà meglio per te, perché potrai salire più svelto e più sicuro sulla torre,” e subito lo lasciò, e ricominciò a salire in fretta. Quando fu arrivato in cima alla torre, fece un gesto con la spada verso coloro che circondavano la città, e gridò: “Salite, salite e prendete in fretta la città.” Allora subito tutti insieme salirono sulle mura, inseguendo e uccidendo molti saraceni che fuggivano verso la cerchia interna. Ma gli altri saraceni, dopo che si furono ricompattati dietro le altre mura della città, cominciarono a resistere ai cristiani con spade e frecce, invocando Maometto in loro aiuto perché non entrassero in città. Ma i genovesi, che avevano sulla spalla destra la croce, salendo su un albero di palma che con i rami si incurvava sulle mura della città, e invocando Cristo in loro aiuto, incrociarono le loro spade con quelle dei saraceni; che subito abbandonarono le spade e le altre armi e cominciarono a fuggire verso la loro moschea. Ma i genovesi, prima che i saraceni giungessero alla moschea, lasciarono morti tutti i combattenti che erano sulle mura, in città e in ogni angolo; e immediatamente tutti i cristiani guidati dal patriarca raggiunsero la moschea; da dove un migliaio di ricchi mercanti, che si erano rifugiati sulla torre, cominciarono a gridare rivolti al patriarca: “Signore, signore, concedici l’assicurazione che non saremo uccisi; perché siamo fatti a immagine del vostro Dio, e vi daremo tutto ciò che abbiamo.” Il patriarca chiese ai genovesi il permesso di promettere, e questi

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acconsentirono. E dopo aver dato il consenso, subito cominciarono a girare per la città, prendendo uomini, donne e ricchezze in quantità, tutto quanto era dentro fu loro. E tutte le vicende cominciate quel giorno, col volere di Dio, ebbero termine entro l’ora sesta, come aveva annunziato ai genovesi il patriarca Daiberto. In seguito, pochi giorni dopo, Maurizio vescovo di Porto e legato pontificio consacrò numerose chiese di quella città; la maggiore delle quali, dov’era la moschea e dove ora c’è la sede episcopale, fu dedicata al beato Pietro, e un’altra a san Lorenzo; in quelle chiese e in tutta la città il nome di Gesù Cristo é adorato e Gli si rende culto, mentre il diabolico nome di Maometto è stato espulso e non più adorato. Poi i genovesi con le galee e tutti gli armati andarono sulla spiaggia di San Parlerio presso Solino e vi fecero il loro accampamento; e dal bottino prelevarono prima la quindicesima parte per le galee; quindi divisero quanto rimaneva tra ottomila uomini; a ciascuno dei quali diedero quarantotto soldi pittavesi e due libbre di pepe, oltre a ciò che spettò al console, ai nocchieri e agli uomini migliori, che fu imponente. Infine, la vigilia di san Giacomo apostolo, intrapresero con le galee la rotta per rientrare a Genova; e vi giunsero nel mese di ottobre, in trionfo e in gloria. Nell’anno 1101; nel primo contingente dei franchi contro Antiochia nel 1097; nella spedizione d’Africa nel 1088; nella prima spedizione di Tortosa nel 1093; e quando fu presa la città di Gerusalemme nel 1099.21

Con questo laconico rinvio Caffaro conclude la prima parte del suo lavoro, dedicata completamente alla celebrazione dell’evento e dell’eroe che ne è protagonista. Non ricorda qui la conquista di Arsuf né altri particolari pure molto interessanti del viaggio di ritorno, riportati invece nella De liberatione. Evidentemente lo scopo della cronaca è un altro ed è rivelato dall’ attento bilanciamento dei ruoli del suo eroe, destinato a segnalare il passaggio dall’uno all’altro sistema. Sotto le mura di Cesarea la sua voce risuona alta e tonante. Le parole sono quelle di un guerriero indomito, come dimostra di essere salendo per primo sulle scale all’assalto delle mura senza l’aiuto delle macchine da guerra; ma anche quelle di un capo politico quale ormai egli è. “Prouesse et sagesse” restano, con qualche sfumatura, i suoi valori di riferimento. Subito Guglielmo si rivolge ai suoi uomini definendoli cives et bellatores Dei, sottolineando la peculiare qualità dei genovesi “cittadini di un Comune” e aggiungendovi quella salvifica di “guerrieri di Dio”. Al precetto divino espresso dal patriarca segue il comando del capo e la abituale corresponsione del giuramento di fedeltà. La sequenza successiva riconduce ai riti cavallereschi che, con confessione e comunione durante la messa, devono precedere l’atto di sangue. Ha quindi inizio la grande rappresentazione, condotta da Caffaro con grande abilità, intesa a favorire la suspense di una vicenda, di cui il crollo della scala nel momento iniziale dell’assedio, appare solo la prima battuta. In essa Caffaro, che ancora una volta ha scelto di presentare la figura di Guglielmo solo sulle mura, da politico attento qual è, recupera immediatamente il ruolo corale di quell’exercitus Ianuensis, che già si era fatto parlamento nel momento della decisione finale, che si farà collettività

21

Caffaro, “Annales”, pp. 11–13; trad. it. Gli Annali, pp. 69–72.

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mercantile e solidale nell’attenta spartizione del bottino. Con mano leggera ma decisa, egli lascia balenare qui il suo orgoglio di essere civis, parte di una comunità che, attraverso l’autogoverno, valorizza le sue possibilità, ampliando il suo raggio d’azione sulla terra e sul mare. Al termine di questa spedizione Guglielmo Embriaco, eponimo di una celebre famiglia di Genova e dell’Oltremare, divenne console della città. Fece anche molte altre cose, che Caffaro non ricorda e che sono tramandate dai documenti raccolti nel Liber Iurium. Il nostro autore, che pure ha deciso di farne l’uomo del cambiamento, lo ritrae invece sempre e soltanto in atti di guerra. Riconduce quindi la sua biografia (che in qualche modo è anche la sua autobiografia) all’affascinante “aventure” del cavaliere cristiano, ispiratrice dell’analogo e coevo modello cantato in versi nella Chanson de Roland; sicché la prima parte della storia genovese è letta attraverso la figura di questo eroe esemplare. Guglielmo e Roland legano ambedue ad un atto e a un momento fondamentale la nascita di una identità europea, di cui rappresentano due volti. L’immagine di Rolando morente a Roncisvalle è il fondamento ideale della cavalleria nel XII secolo al servizio della monarchia; quella di Guglielmo vittorioso sulle mura di Gerusalemme e di Cesarea è il fondamento ideale di una cavalleria, che si fa consolato nella città che diventa Comune. In questo modo Caffaro, rispettando e innovando al tempo stesso le coordinate culturali alle quali appartengono lui e il suo eroe, presenta un’altra Europa rispetto a quella “carolingia” espressa dalla Chanson de Roland o da Artù e dalle storie continentali.22 L’Europa di Caffaro e di Guglielmo è l’Europa mediterranea dei Comuni e del mercato; diversa, ma complementare, per reciproca scelta, all’Europa continentale, monarchica e agraria. Su questa via Guglielmo Embriaco e Caffaro, il suo “doppio”, trascinano con sé il mito di Genova medievale.

22 Cf. José Enrique Ruiz Domènec, La memoria de los feudales (Barcelona, 1984); Gabrielle M. Spiegel, The Past as Text. The Theory and Practice of Medieval Historiography (Baltimore, 1997).

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Regards croisés sur l’épopée française et le destân turc Tivadar Palágyi ELTE Université de Budapest 1. Introduction Les chansons de geste françaises du cycle de la Croisade ont un degré d’historicité plus ou moins grand. On sait que dans le premier cycle c’est la Chanson d’Antioche1 qui reste le plus près des événements historiques, tandis que la Chanson de Jérusalem2 et les Chétifs3 (captifs) comportent un plus grand nombre d’éléments fantastiques ou romanesques. De façon semblable, les destâns turcs présentent une historicité variable. Si le Roman de Sayyid Battal 4 (fin XIIe, début XIIIe siècle) semble l’adaptation islamisée totalement décousue5 de différents récits du Shahname persan du début du XIe siècle, avec des relents de guerres frontalières arabo-byzantines et même des apparitions de croisés (Ûç le Franc qui serait Hugue de Vermandois, Sercail serait Raimond de Saint-Gilles),6 le Destân d’Umûr Pacha7 a un degré d’historicité beaucoup plus élevée. Entre les deux se situe un texte, le Dâniºmendnâme (première rédaction vers 1245), au degré d’historicité moyen, dont l’édition critique est due à Irène Mélikoff.8 Nous allons dans ce qui suit attirer l’attention sur certains aspects liés aux Croisades de deux textes, un français, l’autre turc, qui ont plusieurs points de convergence. Les deux présentent le passage de l’histoire à l’épopée. Osman Turan dit que le destân historique qu’est le Dâniºmendnâme – qui avait auparavant été source de nombreuses erreurs de la part de ceux qui le prenaient pour ce qu’il n’est pas – recèle un certain nombre de reflets d’événements historiques à condition

1

La Chanson d’Antioche, édition du texte d’après la version ancienne, éd. Suzanne Duparc-Quioc (Paris, 1977). 2 La Chanson de Jérusalem, éd. Nigel R. Thorp, The Old French Crusade Cycle, vol. 6 (Alabama, 1981). 3 Les Chétifs, éd. Geoffrey M. Myers, The Old French Crusade Cycle, vol. 5 (Alabama, 1980). 4 Die Fahrten des Sajjid Batthâl, ein alttürkischer Volks- und Sittenroman, éd. Hermann Ethé (Leipzig, 1871). 5 Georg Hüsing, Beiträge zur Rostahmsage (Sajjid Battâl) (Leipzig, 1913), p. vi–viii. 6 Henri Grégoire, “L’épopée byzantine et ses rapports avec l’épopée turque et l’épopée romane”, Bulletin de la classe de Lettres de l’Académie Royale de Belgique 18 (1931), 436–94, y voit aussi les traces historiquement repérables de la geste arabe de Malatia. 7 Irène Mélikoff, Le Destân d’Umûr Pacha (Paris, 1954). 8 La Geste de Melik Dâniºmend, éd. Irène Mélikoff, 2 vols (Paris, 1960).

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de procéder à une analyse critique.9 Voici la définition classique du destân turc qui insiste sur les relations que celui-ci entretient avec le roman de chevalerie occidental: “L’épopée orale vivante, en passant à l’écrit, a dégénéré . . . en un genre littéraire nouveau d’influence étrangère, qui se rapproche du roman de chevalerie du Moyen Age occidental, notamment dans les oeuvres narratives de longue haleine dans lesquelles l’idéal religieux va de pair avec des exploits héroïques d’une part, et des aventures merveilleuses d’autre part. La Geste de Battâl, celle de Dâniþmend Gâzî sont les créations caractéristiques de ce genre en Asie Mineure.”10 De la même façon Claude Cahen a déclaré à propos de la Chanson des Chétifs qu’il ne faut pas y chercher une source, mais que l’intérêt de l’ouvrage réside dans cet amalgame de plusieurs souvenirs historiques qui témoignent d’un “brassage d’influences orientales et occidentales . . . assez extraordinaire à cette date”.11 En plus la Chanson des Chétifs serait de façon unanime la seule chanson de geste de provenance nettement orientale (Cahen,12 Duparc-Quioc,13 Bender14). En effet, l’épisode central des Chétifs (oeuvre tripartite et sûrement due à plusieurs remanieurs) comporte une longue dédicace posthume à Raimond II d’Antioche ce qui permet de dater cet ouvrage des années 40 du XIIe siècle. Quant au Dâniºmendnâme (ci-après Dân.), il est lui aussi le fruit de deux versions successives, d’où son caractère mixte – en prose et en vers alternés à la manière de la chantefable française et caractéristique du genre du destân15 – et linguistiquement disparate, les parties en prose étant écrites dans un turc à la syntaxe et surtout au vocabulaire relativement simple, tandis qu’une partie des passages en vers présentent déjà les fioritures lexicales arabo-persanes. Cela s’explique par le fait que la tradition épique concernant Dâniþmend “fut fixée une première fois par écrit en 643/1245, et cette première geste, aujourd’hui perdue, fut refaite en 761/1360, par ‘Arif ‘Ali”.16 Il est vrai cependant que même les parties en prose ont de quoi surprendre le lecteur: en effet, par endroits la surabondance de subordonnées persanes étouffe complètement la syntaxe naturelle du turc, ce qui n’empêche pas ailleurs l’apparition étonnante de toute une gamme très riche de constructions nominales du verbe, notamment dans les dialogues. S’il est vrai, comme l’affirme Irène Mélikoff, que la syntaxe du texte “ne connaît encore qu’un usage restreint des formes nominales du verbe”, on peut néanmoins se demander si le processus ne va pas d’une structure synthétique vers une structure plus analytique sous l’influence du persan.17 9

Osman Turan, Selçuklar zamanýnda Türkiye (Istanbul, 1996), p. 113. Pertev N. Boratav dans Philologiae Turcicae Fundamenta (Wiesbaden, 1964), p. 15. 11 Claude Cahen, Turcobyzantina et Oriens Christianus (London, 1974), p. 316. 12 Claude Cahen, Orient et Occident au temps des Croisades (Paris, 1983), p. 115. 13 La Chanson d’Antioche, introduction, p. 125. 14 Karl-Heinz Bender, “De Godefroy à Saladin”, dans Grundriss der Romanischen Literaturen des Mittelalters, vol. 3, tome ½, fascicule 5 (Heidelberg, 1986), p. 55. 15 V. S. Garbouzova, Skazanie o Melike Danishmende (Moskva, 1959), p. 174. 16 Mélikoff dans Encyclopédie de l’Islam (Paris, 1960), p. 112. 17 Dân., 1:176. 10

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2. Regards croisés de chrétiens et de musulmans Lorsqu’on aborde le Dâniºmendnâme d’un point de vue “croisé”, on risque d’être découragé. Irène Mélikoff (Dân., 1:134) se sent “obligée de constater que la Croisade n’apparaît pas nettement dans la Geste de Melik Dâniþmend. Ceci semble être une règle générale qui ne s’applique pas seulement à la littérature épique, mais également aux textes historiques.” Claude Cahen se hâte lui aussi de conclure: “Unexpected as it may appear to the westerner, it must be clearly realized that the Crusades did not produce much of an impression on the Islamic world in general. In the traditions of the Turkomans of Anatolia almost no trace was left by the crossing of the Frankish army.”18 Il est vrai qu’on ne trouve pas de récit suivi de la Croisade dans le Dâniºmendnâme. Et la seule allusion historiquement vérifiable aux Croisades est placée en tête du texte dans l’introduction. Elle détonne quelque peu du reste: le calife de Bagdad tente de dissuader Melik Dâniþmend de faire des conquêtes en direction de Rûm, puisque d’immenses territoires (d’Antioche à Jérusalem) anciennement musulmans sont aux mains des Francs: “Þam elinde Antakiya ve ‘Akka ve Tarabalûs ve Sifât ve Nablûs ve Kudûs kenârina degin Firenk tutmiþdur” (Dân., 2:12). Mais on verra qu’une vue d’ensemble sur les éléments disparates donne des informations précieuses sur l’ambiance d’une époque. De la même façon, l’intérêt de la chanson française des Chétifs n’est pas de déterminer avec exactitude l’identité de la personne de Richard de Caumont (est-ce Bohémond ou Richard du Principat etc., ou tous ensemble fondus en un souvenir historique?).19 D’ailleurs le même Bohémond, après avoir fasciné Anne Comnène, fait toujours rêver. Curieusement, on a cru le retrouver non seulement dans les Chétifs, mais aussi dans le Dâniºmendnâme, en la personne du plus sympathique – et pathétique – des personnages chrétiens, le beg ªattat (prisonnier de Dâniºmend) sur lequel nous reviendrons encore.20 S’agirait-il donc de deux versions, l’une turque et l’autre française ou franque, du même roman? Concernant ces épisodes-là, il s’agit très certainement de reflets d’événements historiques de la fin du XIe et du début du XIIe siècle, tels qu’ils se sont cristallisés dans la littérature de deux peuples se disputant le même territoire mais qui se vouaient une certaine estime, comme en témoigne le passage de l’Anonyme qui compare les Turcs à l’origine troyenne aux Francs d’ascendance tout aussi troyenne.21 Notre fil conducteur sera la Geste de Dâniºmend pour enquêter sur la vision de l’ennemi chrétien et, respectivement, musulman (les Juifs étant curieusement absents de Dâniºmendnâme, mais très présents dans le Battalnâme et sporadiquement dans les Chétifs). 18 19 20 21

Crusades, 1:75. Bender, “De Godefroy à Saladin”, p. 53. Mélikoff dans Dân., 1:137. Histoire anonyme de la Première Croisade, éd. Louis Bréhier (Paris, 1964), p. 50–52.

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Au moment où le Calife autorise les deux Gazi à commencer la conquête de l’Anatolie, il leur fixe un projet: “gaza kïlalar”, c’est-à-dire qu’ils doivent faire la Guerre Sainte qui consiste à “Kafirlerin kökini kesmek” (Dân., 2:12), à couper les racines des Mécréants. Une formule légèrement plus douce et non plus métaphorique mais métonymique est énoncée un peu plus loin: “dilerüz Rûm evi Islâmla dola” (Dân., 2:59), “nous souhaitons remplir la/les maisons grecques d’Islam”. Une métaphore encore plus raffinée et poétique est cette prière: “eger bu fethe Senden ola miftâh/ kilîd-i küfr açïlub olur islâh” (Dân. 2:61) (jeu de mot sur “feth” = conquête et “miftâh” = clé: “Si tu nous offres la clé de la victoire, après l’ouverture du verrou des mécréants, se fera la réparation.” Après les premières passes d’armes de Melik, s’étant convaincu de la valeur guerrière de celui-ci (O. Turan indique que selon certaines sources il s’agissait en fait d’éloigner les éléments turbulents et séditieux de la cour, d’où “l’exil” anatolien de Dâniºmend)22 le Calife lui envoie un étendard qui porte l’inscription suivante: “kahr ede Hüzâ ehl-i salîbi” (Dân., 2:66) où l’on a la surprise de retrouver l’expression arabo-persane pour “croisés, mot-à-mot, gens de la Croix”, alors que l’on aurait imaginé que c’était un calque des termes européens de “Croisade, croisés” qui ne se sont répandus que bien après la période des Croisades en Terre Sainte.23 L’expression parallèle est bien sûr: “ehl-i Islâm”. Dans la lettre de Melik Dâniþmend aux Grecs ceux-ci sont appelés “ehl-i Salîb” (Dân., 2:102). Et dans l’exhortation de Nestor et de Þattat, l’armée chrétienne est appelée aux armes par la même formule “ehl-i Salîb” (ibid.).24 Un autre souvenir possible des Croisades est l’apparition dans le Dâniºmendnâme d’un peuple mécréant (kâfir) qui mange la chair des musulmans et ne craint pas les chefs chrétiens locaux. Ces éléments recoupent bien la description des Tafurs tels que nous la livrent les chroniqueurs de la Première Croisade. Leur chef Rûyizân est parmi les rares chrétiens à éveiller la curiosité voire l’admiration de Melik (Dân., 2:106). Le champion du sultan des Francs s’appelle Atuþ: “Firenkler Sultanïnun bir pehlevânï varimiþ” (Dân., 2:156) qui arrive avec 70 mille guerriers pour secourir les Grecs et les Géorgiens. Selon Irène Mélikoff 25 il pourrait s’agir du frère du roi de France Hugues de Vermandois qui selon Goossens26 apparaît également dans Sajjid Batthâl sous le nom d’Ûç. Une indication très précieuse sur le souvenir des Croisades est donnée par le même héros: “benüm ardumca Bedrôs Firenk eriþür/ temâmet Firengistân gelür” (Dân., 2:163): “Derrière moi arrive Pierre le Franc avec tout le pays des Francs.” (Plus loin arrivera l’innombrable troupe de Selâhil, souvenir probable de Raimond de Saint-Gilles: Dân., 1:404.) Le Grec Nestôr s’en réjouit, et tel Alexis Comnène aux chefs croisés, prodigue aux Francs des cadeaux. 22 23 24 25 26

Turan, Selçuklar, p. 113. Cahen, Occident et Orient, p. 280. Sajjid Batthâl, p. 153: “Kreuzsfahnen”. Mélikoff dans Dân., 1:135. Goossens dans Byzantion 1935.

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Ensuite il expose à Atuþ la situation des Grecs: “Ne ’aceb hâl/ elümüzde yürürken fârig-ül-bâl/ bular bize katï ulaþdïlar ah/ harâb etdiler elümizi nâ gâh!” (Dân., 2:168): “Quelle étrange situation! Nous vivions dans notre pays, dépourvus de soucis, quand ceux-ci sont venus nous donner beaucoup d’ennuis, ils se sont mis, subitement, à dévaster notre pays.” Ces vers, qui appartiennent probablement à la couche archaïque (versifiée) du texte, sont un curieux témoignage du sentiment des Grecs qui sont envahis “chez eux”. Ce n’est pas sans rappeler le message d’Alexis à Urbain II. Cette connivence franco-grecque est signalée aussi par la bande mixte du brigand Torsuvar le Franc (Dân., 1:371). La menace turque devient d’autant plus claire que Melik dans sa lettre aux Grecs expose sans ambages le projet des Turcs qui désormais ne viennent plus pour le butin quittes à se retirer après, mais pour conquérir ces provinces et ces villes et convertir par la force les habitants: “ben Rûma anuniçün gelmedüm ki mâl u hazîne cem’ edem dahï gerü dönem, anuniçin geldüm ki bu elleri ve bu þehirleri feth edüb halkïnï îmâna getürem” (Dân., 2:195). A côté de ces visées de prosélytisme musulman, on trouve des passages que l’on pourrait qualifier de préislamiques. Ainsi Melik refuse de partager le repas de son adversaire lors d’un duel, geste qu’Osman Turan appelle “ekmek ve su hakk”.27 La place prépondérante occupée par une amazone guerrière Efromiya (fille du chrétien Þattat et fiancée du chrétien Nestor, elle se convertira à l’Islam et épousera le musulman Artuhi) serait elle aussi en contradiction avec la place assignée à la femme dans l’idéologie musulmane. Les nombreuses références au Shahnâme persan28 sous forme de comparaisons entre Parvîz et Melik (Dân. 2:76), ainsi que les listes de héros, en partant des rois iraniens et en passant par des personnages bibliques sont elles-aussi en dehors de la stricte orthodoxie que l’on retrouve ailleurs dans le Dâniºmendnâme. Un exemple caractéristique est fourni par le panégyrique du Calife dans la bouche de ‘Osman où Rustem (héros principal de l’épopée iranienne), Moïse et Jésus prêtent chacun une qualité au chef musulman (Dân., 2:69). Cette impression d‘amalgame que donne le texte est encore renforcée par la symbiose persano-turque qui était une réalité linguistique quotidienne dans l’Anatolie du XIIIe et du XIVe siècles. On sait que les Byzantins appelaient les corps d’armée composés de Turcoples “ÐÝñóáé”. Le cri de guerre de Melik est en persan: “Benâm-i Hüdâ benûr-i pâk-i Muhammed” (Dân., 2:21). Le langage de la galanterie comporte aussi beaucoup de termes persans: Artuhi expose comment – corps et âme – et il est tombé amoureux d’Efromiya: “Hezâr cân ü dilile ol kïza ‘âþïk oldum.” De même le vocabulaire de la taverne, du “meyhâne” (Dân., 2:70). La lettre de Melik aux Grecs commence par l’expression bilingue “Nâm-i Hüzâ, Tanrï adï” (Dân., 2:102). Dans certains manuscrits la troupe musulmane est composée de 27

Turan, Selçuklar, p. 129. Le Livre des Rois (composé vers 1010) de Firdousi contient et résume tout l’héritage culturel préislamique de la Perse. 28

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Turcs et de Persans contrairement à ce qu’affirme Garbouzova:29 “cümle anda cem’ olan Türkile Tat” (Dân., 2:125). Ce bilinguisme existe même dans la toponymie: le “Zûnî Firengî” est aussi appelé “Firenk Dagï” (Dân. 1:315). Pour dire million on dira “hezâr bin” (Dân., 2:160). L’expression récurrente “kendisi hôd” (Dân., 2:171) est aussi un exemple de ce type de doublet. Plus étonnante encore est la contamination de structures syntaxiques turques avec des structures persanes: “Cün Þattat ol hâlï görüb çok aðladï” (Dân., 2:211). La construction synthétique turque avec participe en -ub est contaminée avec la subordonnée temporelle persane introduite par “çun”. Les très fréquentes constructions subordonnées avec “ki”, “kim”, “çu” et “çün” caractérisent les parties diégétiques qui acquièrent ainsi un caractère très persan, tandis que les constructions synthétiques participiales à la “öz türkçe” se retrouvent sous des formes très diversifiées dans les parties mimétiques, dialoguées, mais restent très minoritaires. La rigueur morale et théologique du Dâniºmendnâme (qui sur ce point diffère aussi bien de l’épopée seldjoukide de Dede Korkut que de l’épopée byzantine frôlant parfois le scandale) est néanmoins contrebalancée par des passages comiques dont les cibles sont bien entendu les chrétiens, et principalement les moines et les prêtres: le chef chrétien Þattat jure “par les vieux prêtres pollués, par leur vieux chef centenaire et par le sac qu’il porte sur la tête”, en plus des idoles Lat et Menât (Dân., 2:40) qui constituent des éléments indispensables du pandémonium pseudo-chrétien depuis le roman de Sayyid Battal.30 Les idoles prétendument chrétiennes Lat et Menat se prosternent devant le Prophète Mahomet (Dân., 1:311). Plus loin (Dân., 2:67), 300 moines surprennent par leur double nature (humaine et diabolique): “sûratlarï adam, fi’illeri dîv idi”. Parfois ce sont des objets (bien symboliques au demeurant) qui sont visés. Arrivé dans un monastère, Melik “vit une grosse cloche qui ressemblait à une immense jarre, ou à un gros tonneau de cabaret (meyhânenün ulu fïçïna benzer), ou bien à un ivrogne ruiné (müflis-i meyhôr), pendu dans le cabaret, en face du cabaretier” (Dân., 2:70). On reste perplexe devant cette imagination débordante et peu conventionnelle qui s’exprime à travers un vocabulaire citadin fortement imprégné d’éléments persans. Le texte est parsemé de comparaisons souvent populaires et qui dépassent le vieux cliché firdousien du loup affamé se jetant sur les agneaux. Nestôr se réjouit tant de la libération de Þattat que “sa joie peut se comparer à celle d’un homme qui retrouve son âne après l’avoir perdu” (Dân., 2:222). Nestôr et ªattat – tout chrétiens qu’ils soient – sont les personnages qui ont le plus de relief, mais leurs apparitions souvent émouvantes sont toujours contrebalancées par des clichés grossiers ou simplement comiques. Cependant, c’est parfois les musulmans qui font les frais de cette veine populaire: Gavras compare Melik à un chat qui sort ses griffes pour se mesurer à un lion (Dân., 1:438).

29 30

Garbouzova, Skazanie, p. 102–3. Sajjid Batthâl, p. 35.

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Melik a la surprise de voir face à lui un adversaire chrétien grand comme un minaret “Melik bakub gördikim bir menâre gibi Kâfirdür” (Dân., 2:104), tandis que Nestor réussit à s’échapper à Melik qui le tient soulevé en l’air par la ceinture, en coupant sa propre ceinture. Sa chute est comparée à celle d’un chien tombant du toit d’une maison: “tamdan köpek düþer gibi Nestor yere düþdi dahï ters yüzine kaçdï” (Dân., 2:114). Ne nous hâtons pas cependant de conclure que l’imagination loufoque du narrateur s’est laissé libre cours, puisque Garbouzova ajoute31 que même aujourd’hui dans les villages du Caucase les chiens se tiennent pendant le jour sur les toits quittes à se jeter sur des inconnus. Ailleurs on assène à un chrétien un “tel coup d’épée que sa tête se détacha comme une balle se détache de la perche de polo” (Dân., 1:313–14). Cette veine populaire se manifeste aussi dans la franchise avec laquelle est avouée et illustrée l’importance de la ruse. Elément indispensable de la tactique musulmane, celle-ci est érigée en principe légitime par Sayyid Battal: “dans la valeur guerrière un dixième revient au courage et neuf fois plus à la ruse” (Sajjid Batthâl, p. 120) – dans le roman arabe de Delhemma Marius Canard signale la même chose pour Al-Battâl32 – et est abondamment utilisée par Melik, Efromiya (pour capturer son propre père elle lui demande de tendre la main pour un baiser, elle en profite pour le tirer à terre et le faire ligoter aussitôt), Artuhi et les autres protagonistes. Melik se déguise en moine pour s’introduire dans un monastère (Dân., 2:69) à l’instar de Battal qui fit de même (Sajjid Batthâl, p. 80 et 85). Mais l’exemple le plus frappant est l’entrée de Melik dans la cité de Natrûn, celui-ci étant berné quant à la véritable identité de son “invité”. Quand ce dernier révèle son nom, c’est la stupeur: “Benem Melik Dânishmend-i Gâzi, gösterem size hîlepâzï!” où la rime habituelle de Gazi avec “boðazï” (c’est-à-dire ta gorge que je vais serrer) fait place au persan hîlepâz – ruseur. Ce bon mot reflète bien la tonalité populaire souvent amusante du texte, parfois frôlant le sordide: Bedros le Franc (alias Pierre l’Hermite) se salit de peur (Dân., 2:140). Une ruse déjà largement exploitée dans le Sajjid Batthâl (p. 93) est de se retirer subrepticement du champ de bataille, de préférence la nuit, pour laisser les troupes chrétiennes se massacrer mutuellement (Dân., 1: 302). Encore plus malin est le stratagème “devenu habitude” de Melik qui consiste à recouvrir ses étendards et autres bannières de guerre avec des croix pour semer la confusion dans les rangs de l’ennemi. La franchise avec laquelle cette méthode peu orthodoxe est exposée a de quoi étonner le lecteur: “Melik Dânishmendün ’âdeti bu idi kim her kanda varsa ’alem ve sancak baþïna haç ederdi, ya’ni Kâfirlere âl ederdi” (Dân., 2:129). Non content de tromper l’ennemi par le pavillon, on le trompe par la langue. En effet, en parlant grec, le converti à l’Islam et compagnon de guerre de Melik appelé Artuhi peut facilement faire croire aux Grecs que lui et Melik le sont aussi.

31 32

Garbouzova, Skazanie, p. 165. Marius Canard, Miscellanea Orientalia (London, 1973), 8:167.

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Le stratagème de la fausse fuite revient souvent dans le texte: “Kaçar gibi olalïm” (Dân., 2:71) conseille Artuhi à la troupe turque: Melik peut s’introduire dans le fort qu’ont abandonné ses défenseurs appâtés par le butin illusoire. Les chrétiens tentent à la prochaine bataille d’empêcher les Turcs de recourir à leur stratagème préféré: “Bu gün bu Câzûlar çeresini kafasïndan/ tutmak gerekdir kim kaçmayalar” (Dân., 2:159) (“Aujourd’hui, il faut tenir l’armée des Câzûs par l’arrière, se disaient-ils, et veiller à ce qu’ils ne prennent pas la fuite”). (Le mot “câzû” – du persan “ø¢±›” (sorcier) – désigne les musulmans lorsque les chrétiens ont la parole.) Contrairement au code chevaleresque strictement observé par les deux côtés dans les Chétifs (“Mais Soudan tient ses trives, n’en doit estre blamés./ A l’entree del canp en fu li bans criés/ Que il n’i parout hom, tant soit rois coronés,/ Et se il le fesoit, as forques fust levés”, vv. 997–1000), il est parfois permis à un deuxième combattant d’entrer en lice pour aider un compagnon au pied du mur, quitte à décapiter l’adversaire ainsi surpris. Melik et Efromiya ne viennent à bout de Papas qu’en joignant leurs forces de cette façon (Dân., 1:267). Ces éléments “vraisemblables”, non expurgés, étonnent dans le contexte prosélytique du texte. La langue joue un rôle éminent dans l’identification des adversaires. Au début Melik ne connaît pas le grec, son ami Artuhi lui sert d’interprète; par la suite il se perfectionne en “Rûmca”: (Dân., 2:80: “Çünkim Melik Dâniþmend kapuya erdi Rûm dilince çagïrdïkim”: “Arrivé à la porte, Melik Dâniþmend cria en langue grecque.” Dans la Chanson de Jérusalem il y a des latimiers qui traduisent de sarrasinois en rommant,33 et dans l’épopée byzantine de Digénis Akritas34 l’émir parle bien le grec “\Áêñéâµò ãJñ šðßóôáôï ôLí ôµí ^Ñùìáßùí ãëµôôáí ” [1:115], même si parfois les Grecs ont besoin d’un “drogman” en pays musulman: “föç ðñNò áõ\ôïOò äéJ ôï¯ äñïõãïõìÜíïõ” [1:217]). En plus des nombreuses références au grec (Rûm dili), dans le manuscrit de Léningrad du Dâniºmendnâme il y a même la reproduction de phrases que V. Smirnov (Dân., 1:415 et 417) a identifiées comme étant du grec déformé: “imsi zî (ü£) na bisinûmî” pourrait effectivement être rapproché du grec légèrement démotique: “^Çìåßò ôß íá ðïéÞóùìåí;” et “gülüsîr tîrî pûti estorôs” (Dân., 2:261) est traduit dans le texte même: Soyez les bienvenus! Où est la croix? (Êáëµò gñèáôå. Ðï¯ fóôéí ï^ óôáõñüò;). Ailleurs, il y a une “reproduction” du grec qui est comique à dessein: “Titi miti” en guise de formule d’introduction d’une lettre que des chrétiens écrivent à des renégats (Dân., 1:270). Même formule dans la fausse lettre en langue grecque qu’Efromiya et Artuhi ecrivent à Gavras (Dân., 1:259). Un autre élément d’identification très fort est ce que l’on mange. On trouve en effet une grande profusion de détails dans la description des festins chrétiens. Le dénombrement de tous les plats tourne vite au comique ou inspire l’horreur au narrateur du Dâniºmendnâme: parmi les mets le porc (tonguz) a une place de choix 33

La Chanson de Jérusalem, vv. 2562–65, p. 91: “En son sarrasinois les a haut salüés/ ... / Puis fu un latiniers isnelement mandés.” 34 Digenes Akritas, éd. John Mavrogordato (Oxford 1956, 1999).

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et on a à plusieurs reprises la mention curieuse du “Firengistânun ol kïzïl sharâbï” (Dân., 2:91) où le démonstratif “ol”, “ce vin rouge de France” semble évoquer des souvenirs à l’austère narrateur. Ce passage en vers est repris et complété plus loin (Dân., 2:200), en ajoutant l’expression significative “belirsüz adï çok derisem olmaz/ ki þehr âdemisi yerise ölmez” (beaucoup de plats inconnus que les gens des villes peuvent manger sans mourir). Cela suggère que l’opposition fondamentale est entre nomades et citadins, plus qu’entre musulmans et chrétiens. Si l’on accepte la théorie de Garbouzova35 selon laquelle les parties en vers insérés dans le corps du texte et qui font partie intégrante de l’action, sont contemporaines et peut-être même antérieures au texte en prose, on a un indice de l’islamisation a posteriori de ce destân. (On verra que cette hypothèse peut également s’appuyer sur d’autres éléments, notamment à propos du traitement ambigu de certains personnages chrétiens.) Une autre caractéristique des repas chrétiens est l’abondance de vains propos – jamais reproduits mais passés sous silence grâce à des prétéritions ou des litotes – accompagnés de libations immodérées. Les repas musulmans en revanche sont décrits avec plus de sobriété, il n’y a que les noces de Melik qui donnent l’occasion d’un festin avec mille moutons, deux cents boeufs et cent chevaux. Mais le vrai terrain de l’identification et de l’affrontement reste néanmoins la religion. Les musulmans reprochent aux chrétiens le culte de Jésus homme-Dieu: “Ey ‘Isaya tapanlar” (Dân., 2:139). Le festin des chrétiens se termine par une action de grâces au Messie que désapprouve le narrateur: “Mesîha Hak deyü ºükr eylediler” (Dân., 2:92). La ligne de partage entre croyants et mécréants est le monothéisme anti-trinitaire: “her ki Hakkï bir bile gey er durur/ bilmeyenler müþrik ü Kâfgir durur” (Dân., 2:224). (Le terme de “müþrik” (mot-à-mot “associateur”) est rendu dans la traduction d’Irène Mélikoff par “synthéiste”.) Le nom de ‘Isa figure plusieurs fois dans les discours musulmans avec Miryem (Dân., 2:69), mais il peut aussi être l’objet de moqueries, comme dans les fréquentes formules de serment commençant par “par le sabot de l’âne de Jésus”: “sunb-i har-i ‘Isa”. La forme Hiristos est celle employée par les chrétiens du texte. Ceux-ci n’ont pratiquement jamais la parole en direct, lorsqu’il s’agit de donner leur avis sur la religion de l’adversaire. On n’apprend que le résumé de leurs “vains propos”, comme par exemple que tel personnage a proféré des propos “bouffons” au sujet de la famille du Prophète (Dân., 1:278). Lors de la scène dramatique où père et fille – Þattat resté chrétien et Efromiya convertie à l’Islam – essayent à tour de rôle de convertir et, respectivement, de reconvertir l’autre, un long dialogue est reproduit dont la dernière réplique est passée sous silence au moyen d’une prétérition: “A ces paroles, le maudit se mit à injurier le Prophète et proféra de tels blasphèmes qu’on ne peut les répéter [herzeler yedikim demek olmaz]” (Dân., 1:417; cf. Dân, 2:210). Est-ce un indice de plus que certaines parties du texte résultent d’une épuration de récits qui à l’origine n’étaient pas musulmans ou même pas turcs?

35

Garbouzova, Skazanie, p. 174.

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Le nombre élevé des conversions et des reconversions témoigne d’une identité musulmane plutôt chancelante.36 Les conversions sont présentées de façon assez nuancée aussi bien dans le Sajjid Batthâl que dans le Dâniºmendnâme. Dans le premier on observe de multiples fausses conversions afin d’échapper à l’ennemi, parfois sous l’effet de l’alcool (Sajjid Batthâl, p. 56), des reconversions d’anciens musulmans libérés de captivité (Sajjid Batthâl, p. 113) et même des renégats qui se battent aux côtés des croisés (Sajjid Batthâl, p. 168). Cependant il est toujours possible de revenir in extremis à l’Islam. Ainsi Abdulwahhab non seulement se convertit au christianisme mais il se met à boire du vin, voire à manger du porc et à s’habiller en chrétien, quitte à retrouver le droit chemin après (Sajjid Batthâl, p. 159). Néanmoins les multiples fils de cette histoire qui se déroule dans un ordre chaotique et dans des lieux géographiques très éloignés, ne permettent pas de suivre le destin d’une communauté concrète dans ses rapports aux nouveaux conquérants. Le Dâniºmendnâme a un caractère beaucoup plus réaliste, ne serait-ce que par son aire géographique bien déterminée (autour de l’actuelle Sivas) et un nombre limité de lieux de l’action. Le destin de quelques communautés et de quelques personnes est l’objet d’une attention particulière. Ainsi on apprend sur la ville de Sisya qu’elle ne se convertit que par peur de l’épée (“kïlïç korhusundan Sisiya kavmï gerek gerekmez Müsülmân oldïlar”, Dân., 2:98–99), après un affreux massacre qui avait duré deux jours et deux nuits. Il n’est pas surprenant que ces mêmes habitants se soient révoltés par la suite en l’absence de Melik, en tuant l’imam et les prédicateurs. Lorsque Melik revient, ils promettent solennellement de ne plus agir ainsi: “ayruk böyle etmiyelüm” (Dân., 2:129). Malgré ces promesses il faut que le peuple de Sisiya soit sous contrôle strict. Non seulement on leur fait faire les prières cinq fois par jour (le verbe factitif formé à partir de kïlmak “kïldurmak” est là pour témoigner de l’aspect coercitif de cette mesure), mais les buveurs de vin sont fouettés. Aussi les Musulmans finissent-ils par perdre cette cité, ce qui annonce déjà l’échec final de Melik dont les conquêtes perdues seront recouvrées sur les chrétiens par la dynastie seldjoucide pour laquelle travaille le remanieur du XIVe siècle ‘Ali ‘Arif. Ainsi on a pu célébrer les exploits d’une famille rivale, les Dâniþmendides, tout en réservant une part de gloire essentielle aux Seldjoucides qui dominent dans la région vers 1350–60. De la même façon les habitants d’une autre cité, après avoir vu les cinquante premiers d’entre eux exécutés, levèrent le doigt et devinrent Musulmans par peur de l’épée: “derhâl barmak götürüb kïlïç korkusundan Müsülman oldïlar” (Dân., 2:117–18). Au vu de ces exemples, Garbouzova conclut que les autres épisodes où des conversions en masse se produisent (en général deux prisonniers de guerre sur trois préfèrent se convertir) sont des ajouts idéologiques postérieurs.37 Si cette 36 Aussi O. Turan (Selçuklar, p. 132) se hâte-t-il de noter dans son commentaire que ces multiples conversions et apostasies ne devaient pas se produire en masse, contrairement à ce que suggère le Dâniºmendnâme. 37 Garbouzova, Skazanie, p. 157.

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prise de position est en partie motivée par des obligations idéologiques d’une tout autre nature – il s’agit d’un livre publié à Moscou en 1959 – du côté turc, comme on vient de le voir, on essaie de minimiser le nombre des conversions en masse et celui des renégats. Osman Turan déclare que même la bienveillance du Dâniþmend–Gümüþtekin historique à l’égard des chrétiens – ce qui est peut-être vrai si l’on songe à la libération de Bohémond contre paiement de rançon – n’explique pas ces “irtidad”.38 Benjamin Kedar rapporte entre autres le cas inverse de musulmans convertis au christianisme en échange de leur liberté de mouvement et qui en profitent pour regagner le camp de Saladin.39 Dans la Chanson de Jérusalem nous assistons à la conversion feinte de Pierre l’Hermite qui après sa fugue à Antioche a encore plus d’un tour dans son sac.40 Un exemple plus complexe de conversion est représentés par ces “yeni müsülmânlar” (jeunes musulmans) qui ont certes été sous la menace des épées mais qui ont eu la révélation divine: “Allahu Te’âla hidayet verdi” (Dân., 2:172). Un autre élément fréquent du Dâniºmendnâme est la conversion sous l’effet d’un songe. Il est intéressant de noter la part qu’y joue la beauté resplendissante de l’apparition de Mahomet. Un vocabulaire très raffiné de mystique amoureuse est employé pour décrire la conversion d’un moine: “'aþïk oldum göricek ay yüzine,/ kurbân olayïm ben anun sözine” (en voyant sa face de lune je suis tombé amoureux, je suis devenu sa victime à ces paroles) (Dân., 2:124). On trouve même une sorte de marranes musulmans en terre chrétienne dans le village de Tamâsûn dont un habitant explique que son père s’était converti au christianisme seulement avec la langue, pas avec le coeur: “atam dahï dilile ‘olsun’ demiþ, evet gönülile degil” (Dân., 2:177). Ils sont musulmans en secret: “Biz hôd açmazdan kendü dînümüz saklaruz” (Nous gardons notre religion en secret). Contrairement à l’alternative entre conversion et décapitation immédiate proposée aux vaincus dans le Sajjid Batthâl et dans une bonne partie du Dâniºmendnâme, on trouve plusieurs fois la possibilité pour les vaincus de choisir la capitation, le harâç. Ceux qui choisissent ce dernier statut, sont déplacés du fort vers une rïbât (faubourg), tandis que le fort (ka’le) sera peuplé par les “nouveaux musulmans” (fraîchement convertis) (Dân., 2:183). Une certaine tolérance se manifeste aussi dans l’attitude “patiente” de Melik face à sa bien-aimée qu’il n’épousera que lorsqu’elle se sera convertie de sa propre conviction (ce qui n’est pas sans rappeler le sort réservé à la reine d’Espagne à la fin de la Chanson de Roland: “Tant ad oït e sermuns e essamples/ Creire voelt Deu, chrestientet demandet.”41 Gülnüþ Bânû refuse à deux reprises de se convertir avant d’être illuminée par le 38

Osman Turan, Selçuklar, p.132. Benjamin Z. Kedar, Crusade and Mission. European Approaches toward the Muslims (Princeton, 1984), p. 75. 40 La Chanson de Jérusalem, vv. 7092–139, p. 193–94. 41 La Chanson de Roland, éd. J. Bédier (Paris, 1982), vv. 3979–80, p. 330. 39

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Prophète. On retrouve le thème de la belle Sarrasine, sous sa forme inverse de la belle Chrétienne. La possibilité de choisir le harâç est également proposée à Þattat mais celui-ci refuse malgré les objurgations de sa propre fille et sera martyrisé. Avant sa captivité même il y a un passage curieux où il se lamente en se plaignant de son infortune que sa religion n’a pas aidé à écarter: “Bir gün salîbden hôþnûd olmadïm. Dîninda hîç denlenmedüm, bu ruhbânlardan bir meded görmedüm ...” (Dân., 2:209) (Pas un seul jour je n’ai trouvé de satisfaction dans la croix. Ma religion ne m’a pas aidé pas plus que les moines). Lors de sa seconde captivité il considère que si Jésus et la Vierge ont détourné leur visage des chrétiens, c’est parce qu’ils l’ont mérité à cause de leurs fautes: “gece gündüz pes çekerüz cezâ” (Dân., 2:237). La foi inébranlable de Þattat, la noblesse d’âme avec laquelle il supporte la captivité, l’inimitié de sa fille et finalement le martyre détonnent dans la simplicité guerrière et unilatérale de la majeure partie du texte. Ici un parallélisme intéressant s’impose avec l’épopée française: dans les Chétifs, la première partie, la seule à être vraiment épique, culmine par la scène poignante de la conversion du Turc Sorgale (vv. 1124–175) qui est l’un des deux adversaires de Richard de Caumont dans un duel judiciaire. Non seulement cette conversion est spontanée sous l’effet de la grâce, mais elle ne vise aucunement à obtenir la pitié de l’adversaire pour avoir la vie sauve. Au contraire, c’est la mort assumée par le Turc comme un sacrifice libérateur (des chrétiens et de lui-même – déformé et mutilé qu’il est à l’issue de la bataille) qui donne la plénitude du drame. En effet, si Richard épargnait la vie de son adversaire (ce qu’il a envie de faire vu qu’il vient de le baptiser), il ne pourrait pas être sauvé pas plus que ses compagnons d’infortune. Quand Boiardo (dans l’Orlando innamorato) et le Tasse (Tancrède face à Clorinde) utiliseront ce thème, il leur manquera ce ressort suprême de la mort volontairement assumée et donnée à contre-coeur. Conflit cornélien s’il en est, le choix qui se pose pour Richard entre la pitié envers l’adversaire vaincu et le devoir de libérer ses compagnons par la mise à mort du Turc entre-temps devenu chrétien, se prête merveilleusement aux “rudes alexandrins” du trouvère. Si nos textes sont parfois nuancés et qu’il y a même des imbrications entre chrétiens et musulmans, très souvent le cliché anti-chrétien et anti-musulman est prêt à revenir sous la plume du scribe. Quand le Grec converti Artuhi présente à Melik une ville dont il explique la fondation par Alexandre le Grand et une source d’eau locale, Melik intervient brutalement: “Erte bu þehri dahï perdâht etmek gerekdür” (Dân., 2:121): tout ce qui l’intéresse, c’est de détruire au plus vite les villes chrétiennes. L’appellatif des chrétiens est souvent “chiens”, “köpekler” (Dân., 2:138). Malgré la noblesse de Þattat et la grande attention portée à ces agissements, lors de sa mise à mort la formule stéréotypée est appliquée: “La’în Shattât cânï Cehheneme ïsmarladï”: “L’âme du maudit Þattat s’envola en Enfer”, Dân., 2:238).

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Conclusion: vision de l’ennemi nuancée ou simplement incongrue? Au premier abord on retient les injures régulièrement adressées aux chrétiens dans le Dâniºmendnâme (“köpek, kâfir”, c’est-à-dire “chien, mécréant et sale”), de même que dans les épopées françaises il y a tout un arsenal d’adjectifs tout faits (souvent à la rime) prêts à l’emploi du type, “pute gent dervee” (Chétifs, v. 4057). Or dans le texte français on a la surprise de rencontrer ces clichés même dans les passages où l’entente entre chrétiens et musulmans est au beau fixe. Dans les Chétifs la vaillance musulmane est très présente, qu’il s’agisse de la magnanimité du Sultan de Persie (vv. 963 et 1189) ou d’une véritable solidarité entre chrétiens et musulmans: vv. 1705–6: “E! Dex, ceste parole fist nos Francois si liés,/ Et paiens ensement, dont molt ot de quaisiés.” Cette solidarité découle du sujet même des Chétifs, puisque les défenseurs de Corbaran sont ses propres prisonniers chrétiens. Cette interdépendance des deux troupes (celle de Corbaran et celle de Richard) provoque des attitudes étonnamment “oecuméniques” (contrairement à ce que Duparc-Quioc affirme à propos de l’intransigeance religieuse absolue dans Antioche, opposée sur ce point aux Gestes où pointerait déjà “cette sympathie naissante envers l’ennemi”).42 L’exemple le plus éclatant en est la phrase de Corbaran (vv.1974–77) qui entend un cri déchirant venant du haut de la montagne de Sathanas: ‘Segnor’, dist Corbarans, ‘oiés et escoutés, Jo ai oï I. home qui deus cris a jetés; Ne sai s’il est paiens u de crestiens nés, Mais il n’a sousiel home qui n’en presist pités.

Ceci ne contraste pas seulement avec “l’exclusivisme” religieux du Sajjid Batthâl où l’alternative proposée par le héros à ses adversaires vaincus est la conversion immédiate ou la décapitation, mais également avec maint passage des Chétifs (vv. 1471, 1501, 1515, 4057 du genre “li Sarrasin felon”), où les clichés anti-musulmans, tels des épithètes obligées propres au langage poétique de l’époque, sont prêts à revenir. Ce trait est d’autant plus significatif qu’il nous permet de mesurer l’écart entre l’idéologie réellement véhiculée par le texte, et les formes imposées par une langue poétique déjà solidement établie et riche d’un fonds commun de tours et d’épithètes souvent bien identifiables, mais appartenant à une époque antérieure. Dans le Dâniºmendnâme, le Franc Atuº a beaucoup de respect pour Melik: “Ey serverân-i pür hüner/ adun ayit bana nâmuver” (Dân., 2:162) (Beau héros illustre, révèle-moi ton nom). Dans la geste turque il est curieux de constater qu’à côté des personnages musulmans représentés avec une rigidité schématique, une véritable épaisseur humaine est réservée aux personnages chrétiens Nestôr et Þattat. Nestôr est capable du meilleur et du pire. En voyant le visage de sa bien-aimée tombée par terre apparaître “telle la lune qui sort des nuages”, Nestôr s’écrie pour la protéger: 42

Suzanne Duparc-Quioc, La Chanson d’Antioche, Etude critique (Paris, 1978), p. 257.

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“Bu benüm canum canïdur, sakïnun, ana bir zahmï urmayazïz” (Elle est l’âme de mon âme, épargnez-la, ne la frappez pas) (Dân., 2:145). Quelques instants plus tard, il tentera déjà de violer son ex-fiancée désormais musulmane et toujours récalcitrante. De même le narrateur dit que Nestôr “siégeait avec tant de “prestance” qu’on ne saurait le décrire” lorsqu’il accueillait un messager ébloui. Après lecture de la missive, il se met à aboyer comme un chien (Dân., 1:378). Parfois on est tenté de se demander s’il ne s’agit pas de deux traditions différentes, l’une grecque ou arménienne, l’autre turque, qui auraient été refondues, complétées et dûment islamisées après coup. (C’est d’ailleurs la théorie d’Henri Grégoire, concernant l’épopée byzantine, en sens inverse bien sûr, où une tradition musulmane sur les héros de Malatya aurait été intégrée dans le folklore grec de Cappadoce.)43 Même s’il ne faut pas aller aussi loin, on a l’impression que les protagonistes musulmans et chrétiens sont souvent interchangeables, en tout cas la facilité des conversions permet de passer d’un camp à l’autre sans trop de difficultés d’adaptation. Le début de l’épopée byzantine est significative à cet égard où un musulman (de parents grecs il est vrai) se convertit avec une facilité étonnante, de même que le principal compagnon d’armes de Melik est un renégat chrétien et la conversion de l’émir Corbaran est plusieurs fois annoncée dans les Chétifs. Esprit des frontières où akrites, ghazis, poulains et autres gasmouls se seraient donné rendez-vous? La formule de Corinne Jouanno à propos de Digénis Akritas pourrait aussi s’appliquer aux textes turcs et français: “La foi apparaît comme la chose du monde la mieux partagée dans Digénis. Les Musulmans eux-mêmes y sont . . . d’une piété exemplaire: ils ont seulement le tort de n’avoir pas su choisir la bonne religion, et c’est sans doute pourquoi leur erreur apparaît si facilement corrigible: le sentiment religieux, présent en eux, ne demande qu’à changer d’objet.”44

43 Henri Grégoire, “L’épopée byzantine et ses rapports avec l’épopée turque et l’épopée romane”, Bulletin de la classe de lettres de l’Académie Royale de Belgique 18 (1931), p. 468. 44 Digénis Akritas, le héros des frontières, Une épopée byzantine, version de Grottaferrata, introduction et traduction par Corinne Jouanno (Brepols, 1998), p. 180.

Sclavorum expugnator: Conquest, Crusade, and Danish Royal Ideology in the Twelfth Century Janus Møller Jensen University of Southern Denmark Introduction During the twelfth century the defensive wars and punitive expeditions of the Danish kings and church against the heathen Wends in the Baltic were turned into an aggressive war of expansion and conversion. The Danish kingdom was situated on the frontier of Latin Christendom and the expansion could therefore be seen as an expansion of Latin Christendom itself. The wars against Denmark’s pagan neighbours in the northern parts of present-day Germany and Poland became connected to the crusades towards the Holy Land as early as 1108.1 In 1147 this was explicitly formulated by Pope Eugenius III (1145–53) and Bernard of Clairvaux when – perhaps at the instigation of German princes – as a fulfilment of their crusading vows, some of the Christian knights who were getting ready to fight against the infidels in Spain and the Holy Land were turned against the heathen Slavic peoples living east of the river Elbe, collectively called the Wends. Thus the war was thought of within the crusading ideology of the time as a part of God’s war against infidels and heretics for the defense, peace, and expansion of Christendom.2 In the last century Danish historians viewed crusading ideology as merely a pretext, concealing economic and political motives.3 The purpose of the present paper 1

Peter Knoch, “Kreuzzug und Siedlung. Studien zum Aufruf der Magdeburger Kirche von 1108”, Jahrbuch für die Geschichte Mittel- und Ostdeutschlands 23 (1974), 1–33; Giles Constable, “The Place of the Magdeburg Charter of 1107/08 in the History of Eastern Germany and of the Crusades”, in Vita Religiosa im Mittelalter. Festschrift für Kaspar Elm zum 70. Geburtstag, ed. Franz J. Felten and Nikolas Jaspert with Stephanie Haarländer, Berliner Historische Studien 31: Ordensstudien 13 (Berlin, 1999), 283–99. 2 Giles Constable, “The Second Crusade as Seen by Contemporaries”, Traditio 9 (1953), 213–79; Pegathy Taylor, “Moral Agency in Crusade and Colonization: Anselm of Havelberg and the Wendish Crusade of 1147”, The International History Review 22 (2000), 757–84; Tomaþ Mastnak, Crusading Peace. Christendom, the Muslim World and Western Political Order (Berkeley, Los Angeles and London, 2002); Ernst-Dieter Hehl, “Was ist eigentlich ein Kreuzzug?”, Historische Zeitschrift 259 (1994), 297–336. 3 Johannes C. H. R. Steenstrup, Venderne og de danske før Valdemar den Stores Tid (Copenhagen, 1900), 106ff.; Erik Arup, Danmarks Historie, 2 vols (Copenhagen, 1925–32), 1:210, 238–41; Hal Koch, Kongemagt og kirke 1060–1241 = Danmarks Historie, ed. John Danstrup, vol. 3 (Copenhagen 1963), pp. 339–40; Niels Skyum-Nielsen, Kvinde og Slave (Copenhagen, 1971), p. 63; Niels Lund, Lið, leding og landeværn. Hær og samfund i Danmark i ældre middelalder (Roskilde, 1996), pp. 226–27; Inge Skovgaard-Petersen, “Wendenzüge – Kreuzzüge”, in Rom und Byzans im Norden. Mission und Glaubenswechsel im Ostseeraum während des 8.–14. Jahrhunderts, ed. Michael Müller-Wille,

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will be to show that crusading ideology was an integral part of the royal ideology of Valdemar I (1157–82). It will analyse the important elements in the selfrepresentation and self-comprehension of Valdemar’s royal ideology and relate it to the crusading ideology of the time. Thus it has a twofold perspective: first to show that the royal ideology of Valdemar I follows a pattern for legitimizing warfare against heathens, which lay behind the contemporary conception of holy war and what is termed crusade by historians of a later age; second to place the wars of the Danish kings and Danish Church more thoroughly in the context of the general crusading movement. Problems The Danish king Valdemar I and Absalon, the bishop of Roskilde, conquered the island of Rügen in 1169. The main fortress, Arkona, was captured, and the great wooden statue of the heathen god Svantevit that was venerated there was destroyed. The Danish chronicler Saxo, writing around the year 1200, says of this conquest that the destruction of the pagan idol was more important than the fall of the fortress Arkona itself, because through the fall of this idol all heathendom would be rooted out. But as long as it was allowed to remain, it would be impossible to overcome the idolatry of the pagan Rugians no matter how many fortifications were taken.4 The wooden idol of Svantevit was destroyed and its pieces used to make fires over which the Danes cooked their meals. “Then”, Saxo says, “I should think the Rugians were ashamed of their former religion, when they saw the divinity of their fathers and grandfathers, which they had been accustomed to worship with the greatest ceremony, pushed ignominiously into the fire by camp-followers to cook the enemy’s food.”5 After this display of the weakness of the pagan god, all of Rügen surrendered and shortly thereafter a comprehensive program of church building and mission was undertaken. By a papal bull of 4 November 1169, Pope Alexander III Abhandlungen der Geistes- und Sozialwissenschaftlichen Klasse 3/1 (Stuttgart, 1997), pp. 279–89: here p. 287. The contention was criticized from a Catholic perspective by Jørgen N. Rasmussen, “Otte århundreders Sankt Knud Lavard-opfattelse”, Catholica 27 (1970), 102–18, esp. pp. 114–18. The older historiography had less of a problem characterizing the Wendish wars as crusades: Vedel Simonsen, Udsigt over Nationalhistoriens ældste og mærkligste Perioder, 2 vols (Copenhagen, 1813), 2/2:119; Paul Riant, Expéditions et pélerinages des Scandinaves en Terre Sainte au temps des croisades (Paris, 1865; Danish trans. Copenhagen, 1868) – both without treating the subject directly; Hans Olrik, Knud Lavards Liv og Gærning (Copenhagen, 1888), pp. 173–77. 4 Saxonis Gesta Danorum, ed. Jørgen Olrik and Hans Ræder (Copenhagen, 1906–9), 14.39.12. English translations will be cited from Saxo Grammaticus. Danorum Regum heroumque historia. The text of the first edition with translation and commentary is edited by Eric Christiansen, 3 vols (Oxford, 1980–81). 5 Saxo Grammaticus, p. 506; Saxonis, 14.39.34: “Crediderim tunc Rugianos pristinae piguisse culturae, cum patrium avitumque numen, quod maxima religione celebrare solebant, igni deformiter applicatum concoquendis hostium alimentis famulari conspicerent.”

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placed Rügen under the jurisdiction of the bishopric of Roskilde.6 The base for centuries of attacks on Denmark had been subjugated to the Christian faith. In the same year that Rügen was conquered legations travelled across Catholic Europe in a hectic and intense political atmosphere trying to negotiate a truce between the French and English kings, Louis VII and Henry II, in order to launch a new crusade towards the Holy Land. The tense relationship between these two monarchs had prevented a common European crusade, which Alexander III had called in his re-issuing of the crusading bull Quantum praedecessores in 1165.7 Early in 1169 it seemed possible to realize the plan for a crusade, and Alexander III called a crusade in July 1169 with the bull Inter omnia quae.8 Yet despite the truces made early that year– mainly on the basis of the negotiations for the crusade – the conflict between England and France continued and the plans were stranded.9 Was, then, the conquest of Rügen connected with this crusading agenda, which set the stage for contemporary western European politics? It seems as if Saxo wanted to stress this point,10 but it has not been sufficiently acknowledged by historians of a later age. For example, in his book The Northern Crusades, the historian Eric Christiansen says of this conquest, “Pope Alexander III congratulated Bishop Absalon on the conquest . . . but the news had come to him out of the blue; it was not part of a papal strategy.”11 For that reason it could not, according to the modern definition, be a crusade, for “after 1147 the war on the heathen Slavs was fought without the benefit of papal authorization, or any of the apparatus of a formal crusade; there was no vow, no ad hoc legatine commission, no special preaching or promises of crusade privileges”.12 The American historian Peter Rebane expresses a similar view of the Wendish wars: “Beginning as isolated missionary ventures, pursued by a few dedicated idealists, the conversion movement gathered force until by the year 1200 it had become a full-fledged crusade with all of 6

Diplomatarium Danicum 1053–1169, ser. 1, 2, ed. L. Weibull and Niels Skyum-Nielsen (Copenhagen, 1963), no. 189, pp. 343–45; Regesta Pontificum Romanorum ab condita ecclesia ad annum post Christum natum MCXCVIII, ed. P. Jaffé, S. Löwenfeld, F. Kaltenbrunner and P. Ewald, 2 vols, 2nd ed. (Leipzig, 1885–88, repr. Graz, 1956), 11645; PL 200:607–8. 7 PL 200:384–86; Regesta Pontificum, 11218. For the political situation and the crusade see Jonathan Phillips, Defenders of the Holy Land. Relations between the Latin East and the West, 1119–1187 (Oxford, 1996), pp. 140–208; Christopher Tyerman, England and the Crusades 1095–1588 (Chicago, 1988; 1996), pp. 36–56. Originally issued by Eugenius III for the so-called Second Crusade in 1145/46, Regesta Pontificum, 8796 and 8876. 8 PL 200:599–601; Regesta Pontificum, 11637; Phillips, Defenders, pp. 168–208. 9 Phillips, Defenders, pp. 195–99. 10 Kurt Villads Jensen, “Danmark som korsfarerstat”, Den Jyske Historiker 89 (2000), 48–67; Janus Møller Jensen, “Danmark og den hellige krig. En undersøgelse af korstogsbevægelsens indflydelse på Danmark ca. 1070–1169”, Historisk Tidsskrift 100 (2000), 285–328, esp. pp. 312–27. 11 Eric Christiansen, The Northern Crusades. The Baltic and Catholic Frontier 1100–1525, 2nd ed. (London, 1997), p. 65. 12 Christiansen, The Northern Crusades, p. 65. This corresponds to the definition given by Jonathan Riley-Smith in numerous books on the crusades; see esp. What Were the Crusades?, 2nd ed. (London, 1992), p. 78.

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its implications of remissions of sins, conversion by force and the acquisition of native lands by the conquerors.”13 Not surprisingly, given this general opinion, neither the conquest of Rügen nor Danish involvement in general prior to 1200 have been given much attention.14 On the other hand, there can be no doubt that both these historians believed that the crusading movement formed the background for the wars between the heathen Wends and the Christian Danes, whereas this has not been the belief of the Danish historiography, at least until very recently.15 But why then was the conquest of Rügen not a crusade? First of all it seems to be based on the e silentio conclusion that no papal privileges were issued. Modern historians normally regard such privileges as crucial parts of the definition of a crusade. But in the aforementioned papal bull, references are made to previous letters sent to Alexander by Valdemar and “others” concerning not only the numerous attacks by the Rugians on their Christian neighbours but also their idolatry, and a Danish delegation had been in Rome in the 1150s telling of the situation in the North.16 Due to the sparseness of the Danish sources and the fact that no papal register has survived between Gregory VII (1073–1085) and Innocent III (1198–1216), it may not be surprising that such correspondence is no longer extant, thus making this e silentio conclusion seem a bit dubious. However, the heart of the problem lies within the definition of the concept of crusade itself. The so-called “pluralist” definition of crusade places papal leadership at the centre, which means that a papal indulgence has to have been given in order to characterize a military expedition as a crusade.17 Yet, in the words of one of the staunchest “pluralist”

13 Peep Peter Rebane, “Denmark, the Papacy and the Christianization of Estonia”, in Gli inizi del cristianesimo in Livonia-Lettonia. Atti del colloquio internazionale di storia ecclesiastica in occasione dell’VIII centenario della chiesa in Livonia (1186–1986). Roma, 24–25 Giugno 1986, Pontificio Comitato di Scienze Storiche. Atti e Documenti 1 (Città del Vaticano, 1986), pp. 171–201, here p. 171; Peep Peter Rebane, “Denmark and the Baltic Crusade, 1150–1227”, unpublished Ph.D. thesis, East Lansing, Michigan (1969), p. 2. 14 Rebane, Denmark and the Baltic Crusade, p. 22, n. 37; William Urban, The Baltic Crusade (DeKalb, 1975), pp. xi–xii, 12, 23. See Friedrich Lotter, Die Konzeption des Wendenkreuzzugs. Ideengeschichtliche, kirchenrechtliche und historisch-politische Voraussetzungen der Missionierung von Elb- und Ostseeslawen um die Mitte des 12. Jahrhunderts, Vorträge und Forschungen, Sonderband 23 (Sigmaringen, 1977) where he – as Christiansen and Rebane – does not seem to think of campaigns on either side of 1147 as real crusades. 15 Villads Jensen, “Danmark”, pp. 48–49; Møller Jensen, “Danmark og den hellige krig”, pp. 285–87; Janus Møller Jensen, “Denmark and the Holy War: A Redefinition of a Traditional Pattern of Conflict in the Baltic in the Twelfth Century”, in Scandinavia and Europe 800–1350: Contact, Conflict and CoExistence, ed. Jon Adams and Kathy Holman (forthcoming, 2003). Cf. above, n. 3. 16 Diplomatarium Danicum, ser. 1, 2, no. 189, 344, line 30–345, line 2 = PL 200:608A; Regesta Pontificum, 11645; Vita et miracula Sancti Ketilli, in Scriptores Minores Historiæ Danicæ Medii Ævi, ed. M. Cl. Gerts, 2 vols (1917–22; repr. Copenhagen, 1970), 1:268–69. 17 This definition is opposed to the so-called “traditionalist” definition of crusade, which means that only expeditions to the Holy Land are considered crusades. For the discussion on the pluralists’ and traditionalists’ definition of crusade, see Jonathan Riley-Smith, “The crusading movement and historians”, in The Oxford Illustrated History of the Crusades, ed. Jonathan Riley-Smith (Oxford, 1995),

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crusade historians, Norman Housley, “an indulgence, even a crusade indulgence, does not constitute a full crusade”.18 A whole range of criteria needs to be fulfilled before one can speak of crusades. One has to see whether, again in the words of Housley, “the full apparatus of crusade was brought to bear”. It was this “apparatus” which Christiansen observed to be missing from the wars in the Baltic after the crusade of 1147: therefore the wars were not crusades. But in order to come to this conclusion one has to assume that such a papal crusade apparatus existed in the twelfth century. According to English historian Christopher Tyerman, such an apparatus only began to develop after the so-called Third Crusade, that is, after 1187, and in connection with the development of scholastic theology during the twelfth century. This forced him to question whether crusades existed at all in the twelfth century; he eventually concluded that they did not.19 His conclusions, I believe, are parallel to those reached by Susan Reynolds in her 1994 book, Fiefs and Vassals, in which she argues that the concept of feudalism was “invented” by lawyers towards the end of the twelfth century under the influence of the new style of bureaucratic governments.20 Historians of the twentieth century, it is possible to argue, used the legal definitions that emerged towards the end of the twelfth century to create the modern concept of crusade. Or, in the words of John Gilchrist: “The [canonical] collections [of the twelfth century] have nothing on those elements – indulgence, pilgrimage, the vow, the remission of sin, an enemy defined by the Church – that we are told constituted a crusade.”21 There will be little point then in comparing the Danish sources of the twelfth century with this construct of crusade from a later age. What we need to do is to compare the Danish material with the other contemporary Latin Christian sources on the question of how war was legitimized. Instead of viewing the evidence in the light of how a crusade came to be defined in the thirteenth century and later by historians of the twentieth century, we have to see the sources of the twelfth century as a part of that development. It is in this respect that the Danish evidence is important in a general discussion of the development of the crusader institutions and an important aspect of the history of Latin Christian Europe in the twelfth century. pp. 1–12; Hans E. Mayer, The Crusades, trans. John Gillingham, 2nd ed. (Oxford, 1990), pp. 312–13, and Christopher Tyerman, The Invention of the Crusades (London, 1998), pp. 1–7. 18 Norman Housley, “Crusades against Christians: their Origins and Early Development, c.1000–1216”, in CS, pp. 17–36, here p. 23. 19 Christopher Tyerman, “Were there any Crusades in the Twelfth Century?”, English Historical Review 110 (1995), 553–77. 20 Susan Reynolds, Fiefs and Vassals. The Medieval Evidence Reinterpreted (Oxford, 1994). Also Elisabeth A. R. Brown, “The Tyranny of a Construct: Feudalism and Historians of Medieval Europe”, American Historical Review 79 (1974), 1063–88, repr. in Debating the Middle Ages. Issues and Readings, ed. Lester K. Little and Barbara H. Rosenwein (Oxford and Malden, 1998), pp. 148–69. 21 John Gilchrist, “The Erdmann Thesis and Canon Law, 1083–1141”, in CS, pp. 37–45, here p. 41. Cf. also John Gilchrist, “The Papacy and War against the ‘Saracens’, 795–1216”, The International History Review 10 (1988), 174–97, here 189.

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Conquest and canonization The conquest of Rügen was an important and prestigious military victory for King Valdemar. The battle against the heathen Wends was of course also fought for political and economic purposes in order to expand the Danish sphere of influence in the Baltic. The term “Wends” in fact covers several Slavic peoples such as the Abotrites, Pomeranians, and Rugians (see Fig. 1): in modern historiography the term is used to denote all of these peoples together, and this is the sense in which it will be used here, along with the more specific names. According to Saxo and some German chroniclers, the Danish coastlines were exposed to raids and attacks by the Wends especially during the dynastic struggles for the crown from 1131 to 1157; Saxo even claimed that large areas in Denmark had become desolate due to these attacks.22 Exactly to what extent Saxo is telling the truth here is hard to establish, since it is his purpose to present the Danish wars as defensive and just.23 There is archeological evidence for peaceful relations between the Danes and the Wends who probably lived in a kind of “convivencia”,24 although mutual plundering and piracy did take place in this frontier-zone. According to Saxo, when Valdemar became king in 1157, he worked first of all to end the Wendish raids, and Danish military efforts and political ambitions were focused on the island of Rügen. During the 1160s the Danish political ambitions on Rügen were bound to end in conflict with the other major political factor in the area: the duke of Saxony, Henry the Lion.25 When Rügen finally fell to the Danes in 1169, Valdemar had a bridgehead for further expansion that was fully exploited during his reign and by the subsequent kings Knud VI and Valdemar II. Much has been written on the political dealings in the Danish expansion in the Baltic area and the actual course of events.26 My concern here is the ideological framework within which this expansion was understood and how the war on the heathens was used to glorify the royal power of Valdemar I.

22 Saxonis, 14.15.5. Curt Weibull, “Saxos berättelser om de danske vendertågen 1158–1185”, Historisk Tidsskrift 83 (1983), 35–70. 23 Kurt Villads Jensen, “The Blue Baltic Border of Denmark in the High Middle Ages: Danes, Wends and Saxo Grammaticus”, in Medieval Frontiers: Concepts and Practices, ed. David Abulafia and Nora Berend (Aldershot, 2002), pp. 173–93, esp. pp. 180–86. 24 Ibid., pp. 186–91; Kurt Villads Jensen, “Introduction”, in Crusade and Conversion on the Baltic Frontier 1150–1500, ed. Alan V. Murray (Aldershot, 2001), pp. xvii–xxv. 25 Skovgaard-Petersen, “Wendenzüge – Kreuzzüge”, pp. 279–89; Karl Jordan, “Heinrich der Löwe und Dänemark”, in Geschichtliche Kräfte und Entscheidungen. Festschrift zum fünfundsechzigsten Geburtstag von Otto Brunner, ed. Martin Göhring and Alexander Scharff (Wiesbaden, 1954), pp. 16–29. 26 For example, Oskar Eggert, “Dänisch-wendische Kämpfe in Pommern und Mecklenburg (1157–1200)”, Baltische Studien n.s. 30/2 (1928), 1–74; Hans-Otto Gaethke, “Knud VI. und Waldemar II. und Nordalbingen”, Zeitschrift der Gesellschaft für Schleswig-Holsteinische Geschichte 119 (1994), 21–99, 120 (1995), 7–76, 121 (1996), 7–44; Karl Jordan, Henry the Lion. A Biography, trans. P. S. Falla (Oxford, 1986).

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Fig. 1

Denmark and its region in the twelfth century

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The conquest of Rügen was followed by two events that will form the startingpoint for our investigation, the canonization of Valdemar’s father, Knud Lavard, and the crowning of his son, also named Knud (see Fig. 2). But these events must be placed within their wider context within Latin Christendom in order to come to understand the background for their interpretation and their subsequent significance for the history of the crusades. Background Four days after the bull placing Rügen under the jurisdiction of the bishopric of Roskilde, Alexander III issued a second bull to Archbishop Eskil and the rest of the church in Denmark. In this letter of 8 November 1169, he formally canonized Knud Lavard.27 In 1170, a great church festival was celebrated in the Danish town of Ringsted during which Archbishop Eskil placed the bones of Knud Lavard in a glorious shrine. At the same festival Valdemar’s seven-year-old son Knud (later Knud VI) was crowned and chosen as heir to the Danish throne.28 These moves were made in order to strengthen the royal power of Valdemar and secure the direct order of succession against the claims of the other members of the royal family.29 But it was also a strategy that was applied by kings throughout Latin Christian Europe at that time. In 1161, Alexander III had canonized Edward the Confessor at the request of Henry II of England, perhaps in return for Henry’s support in the schism.30 The cult of Edward had begun much earlier, as had the preparations and efforts to have

27

Diplomatarium Danicum, ser. 1, 2, no. 190 = PL 200:608–9; Regesta Pontificum, 11646. Saxonis, 14.40.1 and 14.40.12; Annales Lundenses, in Danmarks Middelalderlige Annaler, ed. Erik Kroman based on the editions of M. Cl. Gertz, Marcus Lorenzen and Ellen Jørgensen (Copenhagen, 1980), pp. 21–70, here pp. 58–59. Carsten Breengaard, Muren om Israels Hus. Regnum og sacerdotium i Danmark 1050–1170 (Copenhagen, 1982), pp. 304–19 (English summary at pp. 328–33); Lars Hermanson, Släkt, vänner och makt. En studie av elitens kultur i 1100-talets Danmark, Avhandlinger från Historiska institutionen i Göteborg 24 (Gothenberg, 2000), pp. 187–250 and passim (English summary at pp. 259–67). Cf. Erich Hoffmann, Die heiligen Könige bei den Angelsachsen und den skandinavischen Völkern. Königsheiliger und Königshaus, Quellen und Forschungen zur Geschichte Schleswig-Holsteins 69 (Neumünster, 1975), pp. 165–69. 29 Hoffmann, Die heiligen Könige, pp. 159ff.; Erich Hoffmann, “Politische Heilige in Skandinavien und die Entwicklung der drei nordischen Reiche und Völker”, in Politik und Heiligenverehrung im Hochmittelalter, ed. Jürgen Petersohn, Vorträge und Forschungen 42 (Sigmaringen, 1994), pp. 277–324, here pp. 278–80; Thomas Hill, Fürsten und Klöster. Studien zu den dänischen Klostergründungen des 12. Jahrhunderts, Kieler Werkstücke, Reihe A: Beiträge zur schleswig-holsteinischen und skandinavischen Geschichte 4 (Frankfurt am Main, 1992), pp. 105–81. 30 Percy E. Schramm, Geschichte des englischen Königstum im Lichte der Krönung (Weimar, 1937; repr. Darmstadt, 1970), pp. 122–24; Frank Barlow, Edward the Confessor (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1970), pp. 256–85 with appendix D; Ian A. Robinson, The Papacy, 1073–1198. Continuity and Innovation (Cambridge, 1990), pp. 111–12; Colin Morris, The Papal Monarchy. The Western Church from 1050 to 1250 (Oxford, 1989), pp. 228–29. 28

Fig. 2

Knud IV the Holy K. 1080–86

Genealogical table

Harald Hen K. 1076–80

Valdemar I the Great K. 1157–82

Sven III Grathe K. 1146–57

Eric III the Lame K. 1137–46

Ragnhild

Valdemar II Sejr K. 1202–41

Knud Lavard d. 1131

Eric II Emune K. 1134–37

Knud VI K. 1182–1202

Eric I Ejegod K. 1095–1103

Olaf III Hunger K. 1086–95

Sven Estridsson K. 1047–76

Knud V Magnusson K. 1147–57

Magnus d. 1134

Niels K. 1103–34

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him recognized as a saint, but the final negotiations and the ceremony were a glorification of Christian kingship personified in Henry II.31 The German Emperor Frederick Barbarossa made a similar move in 1165 where he had his anti-pope Paschal III canonize Charlemagne.32 Frederick also had Paschal elect and crown his three-year-old son Henry, later Henry VI, in July 1169.33 On 14 June 1170 – the same year and month as Valdemar had Knud crowned – Henry II of England had his son, Henry “the Young King”, crowned though the latter was “scarcely of marriageable age”, as Gervase of Tilbury observed.34 The English and German experiences were intimately linked. In the privilege for Aachen issued by Frederick on 8 January 1166, Frederick says that the canonization of Charlemagne was performed at the eager petition of Henry II of England, and the ceremonies were probably performed in the same fashion.35 What was characteristic of events in England and Germany was the personal involvement of the king in the translation ceremony. Edward the Confessor was not translated until 1163 when Henry II returned from a stay on his dominions on the continent, and Henry personally performed the decisive acts at the ceremony in Westminster, as did Frederick Barbarossa at Aachen in 1165.36 It is therefore not unthinkable that Valdemar performed the decisive act in the canonization of Knud in 1170 in Ringsted although Jürgen Petersohn is right when he thinks the evidence inconclusive.37

31

Cf. Frank Barlow’s comments in The Life of King Edward who rests at Westminster attributed to a monk of Saint-Bertin, ed. and trans. Frank Barlow, 2nd ed. (Oxford, 1992), appendix D, pp. 150–63, esp. pp. 161–63. 32 Jürgen Petersohn, “Kaisertum und Kultakt in der Stauferzeit”, in Politik und Heiligenverehrung, pp. 101–45, esp. pp. 101–12 and 119ff.; Erich Meuthen, “Karl der Grosse – Barbarossa – Aachen. Zur Interpretation des Karlsprivileg für Aachen”, in Karl der Grosse. Lebenswerk und Nachleben, ed. Wolfgang Braunfels and Percy E. Schramm, 5 vols (Düsseldorf, 1965–68), 4:54–76. 33 Ferdinand Opll, Friedrich Barbarossa, 2nd ed. (Darmstadt, 1994), pp. 91–94 and 104–5; Peter Munz, Frederick Barbarossa. A Study in Medieval Politics (Ithaca and London, 1969), pp. 242–44. 34 Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi Benedicti Abbatis, ed. William Stubbs, 2 vols, RS, 49/1–2 (London, 1867; repr. Wiesbaden, 1965), 1:5–6; Gervase of Tilbury, Otia Imperialia ad Ottonem IV Imperatorem, 2.20, in Scriptores Rerum Brunsvicensium, ed. G. W. Leibnitz, 3 vols (Hanover, 1707–10), 1:946. Cf. Robert Bartlett, England under The Norman and Angevin Kings, 1075–1225 (Oxford, 2000), pp. 125 and 144. 35 Die Urkunden Friedrichs I. 1152–1167, ed. Heinrich Appelt, 2 vols, MGH Diplomata Regum et Imperatorum Germaniae 10/1–2 (Hanover, 1975–79), no. 502, 2:430–34, esp. p. 433, lines 1–2: “sedula petitione karissimi amici nostri Heinrici illustris regis Angliê inducti.” Jürgen Petersohn, “Saint-Denis – Westminster – Aachen. Die Karls-Translatio von 1165 und ihre Vorbilder”, Deutsches Archiv für Erforschung des Mittelalters 31 (1975), 420–54, esp. pp. 433–36. 36 Petersohn, “Saint-Denis – Westminster – Aachen”, pp. 433–35. 37 Ibid., p. 452 and n. 117. The Vetus Chronica Sialandie, in Scriptores Minores, 1:41 mentions that the translation was performed “a Waldemaro Primo per ministerium venerabilis Absalonis episcopi, cuius id exsequendi officium erat”. Based on Saxonis Gesta Danorum (see below p. 71 n. 71, p. 72 n. 72 and p. 75 nn. 94 and 95) who does not say anything about the king’s role. Here might be added that Saxo perhaps would not have been that interested in mentioning the king’s role, see Birgit Sawyer, “Saxo – Valdemar – Absalon”, Scandia 51 (1985), 33–60; Hermanson, Släkt, vänner och makt, pp. 187ff., esp. 195.

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What happened in Denmark in 1169 and 1170 was a way of establishing a royal dynasty and power on exactly parallel terms with what was happening in the rest of Latin Christendom.38 It was an act that symbolized the way Valdemar wanted his royal power to be presented. As we trace the royal ideology of Valdemar as it was presented in 1170, it will become obvious that the conquest of Rügen and the canonization of Knud Lavard were intimately linked with the crusading movement. There were indeed political and economic reasons and forces behind the expansion in the Baltic and also for Valdemar and Absalon to promote the cult of Knud Lavard domestically, but to quote the words of the late Kai Hørby, “that is not to say that the crusade in itself only was a pretext”.39 This has recently been realized in the historiography concerning one of Valdemar’s main political rivals in the Baltic and northern part of present-day Germany, Henry the Lion. Henry participated in the Wendish Crusade of 1147 and went to the Holy Land in 1172.40 Sometime between 1170 and Henry the Lion’s departure on crusade, the French epic poem Chanson de Roland was translated into Middle High German by Magister Konrad, probably a member of the chapel at the court of Henry the Lion.41 In this Rolandslied Henry is likened to the Old Testament King David42 and most important of all, he is described as a second Charlemagne 38

Hoffmann, Die heiligen Könige, pp. 149–56; Erich Hoffmann, Königserhebung und Thronfolgeordnung in Dänemark bis zum Ausgang des Mittelalters, Beiträge zur Geschichte und Quellenkunde des Mittelalters 5 (Berlin and New York, 1976), pp. 93–111; Ole Fenger, Kirker rejses alle vegne: 1050–1250 = Gyldendals og Politikens Danmarkshistorie, ed. Olaf Olsen, vol. 4 (Copenhagen, 1989), p. 154. Against Aksel E. Christensen, Kongemagt og Aristokrati. Epoker i middelalderlig dansk Statsopfattelse indtil Unionstiden (Copenhagen, 1945), pp. 52–59. For France see Petersohn, “SaintDenis – Westminster – Aachen”, esp. pp. 440, 427–33, 436–51; Percy E. Schramm, Der König von Frankreich. Das Wesen der Monarchie vom. 9. zum 16. Jahrhundert. Ein Kapitel aus der Geschichte des abendländischen Staates, 2 vols, 2nd ed. (Weimar, 1960), 1:93–176. 39 Kai Hørby, “Danmark og korstogene. Momenter i pavernes og kongernes politik”, in Festskrift til Olaf Olsen på 60–års dagen 7. juni 1988, ed. Aage Andersen et al. (Copenhagen, 1988), pp. 201–6, here p. 201. 40 Arnold of Lübeck, Chronica Slavorum, ed. J. M. Lappenberg, MGH Scriptores rerum Germanicarum in usum scholarum 14 (Hanover, 1868), 1.1, p. 13. 41 Pfaffe Konrad, Das Rolandslied, ed. F. Maurer, in Deutsche Literatur. Sammlung Literarischer Kunst- und Kulturdenkmaler in Entwicklungsreihen, ed. H. Kinderman, Reihe: Geistliche Dichtung des Mittelalters 5 (Darmstadt, 1964), pp. 47–313, here vv. 9079–82; Karl-Ernst Geith, Carolus Magnus. Studien zur Darstellung Karls des Großen in der deutschen Literatur des 12. und 13. Jahrhunderts, Bibliotheca Germanica 19 (Bern and Munich 1977), pp. 86–87; Jeffrey R. Ashcroft, “Magister Conradus Presbiter: Pfaffe Konrad at the Court of Henry the Lion”, in Literary Aspects of Courtly Culture, ed. Donald Maddox and Sara Sturm-Maddox (Cambridge, 1994), pp. 301–8. Cf. Karl-Ernst Geith, “Das deutsche und französische Rolandslied. Literarische und historisch-politische Bezüge”, in Kultureller Austausch und Literaturgeschichte im Mittelalter, ed. Ingrid Kasten, Werner Paravicini and Réne Pérennec, Beihefte der Francia 43 (Sigmaringen, 1998), pp. 75–83, here p. 76; Volker Mertens, “Deutsche Literatur am Welfenhof”, in Heinrich der Löwe und seine Zeit. Herrschaft und Repräsentation der Welfen 1125–1235. Katalog der Ausstellung Braunschweig 1995, ed. Jochen Luckhardt and Franz Niehoff, 3 vols (München, 1995), 2:204. 42 Pfaffe Konrad, vv. 9039–43: “Nune mugen wir in disem zîte / dem chuninge Davite / niemen sô wol gelîchen / sô den herzogen Hainrichen.” Cf. vv. 9066–68. Johannes Fried, “Königsgedanken Heinrichs des Löwen”, Archiv für Kulturgeschichte 55 (1973), 312–51; Mertens, “Deutsche Literatur”,

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because he had conquered many heathen countries and converted them to Christianity.43 Henry even claimed to be a descendant of Charlemagne (ipse nepos Caroli).44 The image of Charlemagne as a champion of Christendom on the eastern front of the empire became an especially common theme in the early chronicles of the crusades as well as in popular legends in Germany around the time of the First Crusade and beyond.45 This was also evident at the translation ceremony at Aachen in 1165, where Charlmagne is described as an apostle of the Saxons.46 The experience of crusade also had a profound impact on Middle High German epics and other literature addressed to a knightly audience – an early example being The Millstätter Exodus written around 1120.47 In his war on the heathen Slav people, Henry wanted to be depicted as Charlemagne was, as champion of Christendom. This was the purpose of the Rolandslied.48 There can be no doubt that this epic poem

pp. 205–6; Geith, Carolus Magnus, pp. 100–106; Eberhard Nellmann, “Karl der Grosse und König David im Epilog des deutschen Rolandsliedes”, Zeitschrift für deutsches Altertum und deutsche Literatur 94 (1965), 268–79, repr. in Die Reichsidee in der deutschen Dichtung des Mittelalters, ed. Rüdiger Schnell, Wege der Forschung 589 (Darmstadt, 1983), pp. 222–38, here pp. 234–38. 43 Pfaffe Konrad, vv. 12–16, 9043–47. Cf. Georg Steer, “Literatur am Braunschweiger Hof Heinrichs des Löwen”, in Die Welfen und ihr Braunschweiger Hof im hohen Mittelalter, ed. B. Schneidmüller (Wiesbaden, 1995), pp. 347–75, here p. 354; Geith, “Karlsdichtung”, p. 343. 44 Das Evangeliar Heinrichs des Löwen, ed. Hans-Georg Loebel (Hanover, 1984), fol. 4v. Also Elisabeth Klemm, Das Evangeliar Heinrichs des Löwen, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek. Ausstellungskataloge 47; Insel Taschenbuch 1121 (Frankfurt am Main, 1998), pp. 35–36; Fried, “Königsgedanken”, pp. 322–23. For the manuscript see Klemm, Das Evangeliar; Rainer Kahsnitz, “Evangeliar Heinrichs des Löwen (Cod. Guelf. 105 Noviss. 2o)”, in Wolfenbütteler Cimelien. Das Evangeliar Heinrich des Löwen in der Herzog August Bibliothek, ed. Peter Ganz, Hans Härtel and Wolfgang Milde, Ausstellungskataloge der Herzog August Bibliothek 58 (Weinheim, 1989), pp. 123–34. The genealogy is described in Historia Welforum Weingartensis, ed. L. Weiland, in MGH Scriptores, 21:454–71. Cf. Geith, Carolus Magnus, pp. 109–22; Geith, “Karlsdichtung”, pp. 342–43. 45 D. H. Green, The Millstätter Exodus. A Crusading Epic (Cambridge, 1966), pp. 367–70; Jonathan Riley-Smith, The First Crusade and the Idea of Crusading (London, 1986), pp. 25, 111–12. See Vita Karoli Magni, in Die Legende Karls des Grossen im 11. und 12. Jahrhundert, ed. Gerhard Rauschen, Publikationen der Gesellschaft für Rheinische Geschichtskunde 7 (Leipzig, 1890), pp. 1–93, pp. 44–66 for the legend in 1166. Cf. Geith, Carolus Magnus, pp. 27–29; Sigurd Graf von Pfeil, “Karl der Grosse in der deutsche Sage”, in Karl der Grosse, 4:326–36, esp. pp. 329–30; Fried, “Königsgedanken”, p. 330 with n. 66. 46 Die Urkunden Friedrichs I., no. 502, 2:432, lines 35–38: “In fide quoque Christi dilatanda et in conversione gentis barbaricê fortis athleta fuit et verus apostolus, sicut Saxonia et Fresonia atque Westphalia, Hispani quoque testantur Wandali, quos ad fidem catholicam verbo convertit et gladio.” Cf. Vita Karoli Magni, 1.6 and 1.14 (pp. 27 and 36–37), 3.11 and 3.16 (pp. 79–81 and 89–90). See also Rudolf Hiestand, “Kingship and Crusade in Twelfth-Century Germany”, in England and Germany in the High Middle Ages, ed. Alfred Haverkamp and Hanna Vollrath (Oxford, 1996), pp. 235–65. 47 Green, The Millstätter Exodus. Cf. Friedrich-Wilhelm Wentzlaff-Eggebert, Kreuzzugsdichtung des Mittelalters. Studien zu ihrer geschichtlichen und dichterischen Wirklichkeit (Berlin, 1960), pp. 60–128. See also Klaus Nass, “Geschichtsschreibung in Sachsen zur Zeit Heinrichs des Löwen”, in Heinrich der Löwe, pp. 35–40. For Henry the Lion’s interest in history, cf. Joachim Ehlers, “Literatur, Bildung und Wissenschaft am Hof Heinrichs des Löwen”, in Kultureller Austausch, pp. 61–74; Klaus Nass, “Geschichtsschreibung am Hofe Heinrichs des Löwen”, in Die Welfen, pp. 123–61. 48 The image of Henry as bringing the faith to the heathens, also through the use of arms and force,

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is to be understood in a crusading context and especially as a means to legitimize Henry’s war against the Wends as a crusade.49 More than just an ideological device used to meet political ends, it touches both at the core of Henry’s princely ideology and on some of the fundamental aspects of the just medieval ruler and the virtues of the Christian knight. We should not therefore be surprised to find the Danish king’s expansion into the Baltic and wars on the heathen Wends presented not only as crusades but also as an integral part of the royal ideology. Conquest, crusade, and Danish royal ideology What then is the connection between the conquest of Rügen, crusading, and the Danish royal ideology? The canonization of Knud Lavard provides part of the answer. The Vita sancti Kanuti gives a fascinating insight into the thought-world of the time. It was written in the first half of 1170 in Denmark, perhaps by an English ecclesiastic or monk. It consists of two parts, the Passio and the Translacio, that is, the ceremonials for the two feasts that were to be held yearly for St Knud, on 7 January, the day of his death, and 25 June, the day of his translation.50 In trying to access the royal ideology, this source is very important. Although it is well known that saints’ lives and other hagiographic literature had moral and propagandistic purposes, which make them difficult to use to reconstruct past events (this is especially due to the standardization of their form and content within the limits of hagiographic topoi), the authors of hagiographic literature did not simply write standard works. Instead, “each topos was selected – albeit from a relatively limited range of alternatives – specifically to clarify a major hagiographic theme. The hagiographer, by skilful selection and combination of topoi, was able to highlight the distinguishing characteristics of the cult which he wished to portray.”51 Hence, by looking at the characteristics in the Vita Kanuti we catch a glimpse of the important elements in Valdemar’s royal ideology.

is found also in the charters of Henry, Die Urkunden Heinrichs des Löwen Herzogs von Sachsen und Bayern, ed. Karl Jordan, MGH Diplomata 5: Laienfürsten und Dynastenurkunden der Kaiserzeit 1 (1941–49; repr. Stuttgart, 1957–60), nos 59, 81 and 89, pp. 86–87, 119 and 133. 49 Jeffrey R. Ashcroft, “Konrad’s Rolandslied, Henry the Lion, and the Northern Crusade”, Forum for Modern Language Studies 22 (1986), 184–208; Wentzlaff-Eggebert, Kreuzzugsdichtung, pp. 77–98; Green, The Millstätter Exodus, pp. 225–27, 230–32, 321–24, 399–405. For the older argument, see: Jordan, Henry the Lion and Friedrich Lotter, “The Crusading Idea and the Conquest of the Region East of the Elbe”, in Medieval Frontier Societies, ed. Robert Bartlett and Angus McKay (Oxford, 1989), pp. 267–306. I would like to thank Dr Thomas Hill, Christian-Albrechts-Universität zu Kiel, for references and suggestions. 50 Vita sancti Kanuti, in Vitae sanctorum Danorum, ed. M. Cl. Gertz (Copenhagen, 1908–12), pp. 189–204. 51 Susan J. Ridyard, The Royal Saints of Anglo-Saxon England. A Study of West Saxon and East Anglian Cults (Cambridge, 1988), pp. 8–16. Quotation at p. 14.

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That this is an ecclesiastical source in Latin, I believe, must not be taken to imply that the liturgical language was contrary to a lay or vernacular conception of kingship. Rather the liturgical language was used when “man Eindruck machen wollte” (one wished to make an impression), and the solemn, but at the same time ceremonious, language with its idioms did not depreciate, but rather enhanced the meaning.52 A lineage of kings is presented in the Vita Kanuti which, of course, was intended to glorify the royal power and legitimacy of Valdemar: Eric Ejegod, his son Knud Lavard, now being made a saint, and his son, again, Valdemar. The main characteristic of these kings and what binds them together, beside the blood relationship, is that they all brought peace to the country through the conversion of the heathens. I will treat them in turn and show how they are presented in the Vita. Eric Ejegod Eric Ejegod, which means ‘the good’, was king from 1095 to 1103. The Vita Kanuti tells that peace and the law came to the country during his reign.53 King Eric provides a strong link to the crusade. He himself went on the First Crusade during the so-called third wave in 1101 with his wife Bodil and an armed contingent.54 Eric never reached the Holy Land but died on the island of Cyprus in the year 1103.55 Much of the saga material shows a ready familiarity with not only pilgrimage to Rome and Jerusalem but also crusade, e.g. King Sigurðr Jórsalafari (JerusalemFarer) of Norway in 1107, Earl Håkon of Orkney around 1120, and Earl Rognval of

52

Heinrich Fichtenau, Arenga. Spätantike und Mittelalter im Spiegel von Urkundenformeln, Mitteilungen des Instituts für Österreichische Geschichtsforschung, Ergänzungsband 18 (Graz and Cologne, 1957), p. 84. 53 Vita sancti Kanuti, Passione, lectio 1a, p. 189, lines 1–4: “Rex christianissimus Hericus, dei gracia dignus imperio, regnum Dacie feliciter regebat; et eo regnante regioni arridebant pax et lex, prosperitas gencium et uictualium habundancia.” King Niels (1104–34) was the first Danish king that we know of to use the phrase rex Dei gratia in a diploma dated 1104–17, Diplomatarium Danicum, ser. 1, 2, no. 32. Cf. Ælnoth’s praise of him: ibid., no. 31. 54 Knytlinga saga, in Sogur danakonunga, ed. Carl Petersen and Emil Olson, 2 vols (Copenhagen, 1919–25), caps 79 and 81, 2:188–90 and 191–95; Saxonis, 12.6.3. Møller Jensen, “Danmark og den hellige krig”, pp. 296–99. Cf. Arno Fellmann, Voyage en Orient du roi Eric Ejegod et sa mort à Paphos (Helsinki, 1938), p. 45. Cf. Annales Lundenses, sub a. 1102, p. 55; Annales Ripenses, in Danmarks middelalderlige annaler, pp. 254–67, sub a. 1101, p. 257. Eric’s journey took place at the time of the so-called third wave of the First Crusade, which actually was recorded by the Danish annalists, Annales Colbazenses, in Danmarks middelalderlige annaler, 1–11, sub a. 1101, p. 9; Annales Lundenses, sub a. 1101, p. 55. I stress this point because, due to the general conception in the Danish historiography that Eric’s journey has been considered a pilgrimage, he is also missing from the international works on the crusades. Thus he is not in Jonathan Riley-Smith’s list of the first crusaders: Jonathan Riley-Smith, The First Crusaders, 1095–1131 (Cambridge, 1998), pp. 196–246. 55 Chronicon Roskildense, cap. 12, in Scriptores Minores, 1:25, lines 18–21. P. J. Riis, “Where was Eric the Good Buried?”, Mediaeval Scandinavia 13 (2000), 144–54.

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Orkney in the 1150s.56 Another expression of this familiarity is a Latin description from Norway, dated c. 1200, which describes purely in terms of crusading ideology the Danish fleet that went to the Holy Land in 1191/92 as a response to the preaching of the Third Crusade.57 A contemporary Icelandic poet named Markús Skeggjason wrote a poem of Eric’s death, the so-called Eríksdrápa, probably around 1107.58 In this tribute to the king, Markús gives an image of Eric as a Christian king who fought the heathen Wends and brought peace to the country. The king is praised with sentences such as “the conqueror of the Wends terminated evil men; the king forcefully stopped Viking attacks”.59 It is stressed that he fought heathens (caps 19, 21 and 22) and the king is described as one who loves Christ (“Krists unnanda”, cap. 14). These were the topoi later found in the description of Eric’s reign in the Vita Kanuti, and it is interesting to note these characteristics in this totally different genre produced shortly after the king’s death. This indicates that hagiographic topoi struck a cord in contemporary minds and were not simply literary formulae. Eric’s departure for Jerusalem is described by Markús Skeggjason in exactly the same terms as that of other European crusaders: “the brave king acquired a wish to heal his internal wounds. He left the North with a strong host in order to save his soul. He prepared himself for a better world, and he went away to see Jerusalem, now secured. The king prepared himself for a glorious life in heaven.”60 The Danish noble and chronicler Sven Aggesen reports c. 1188 that Eric had taken the cross. In the late annals from Ryd Monastery it is reported based on Saxo’s chronicle – an interesting anecdote – that the Danish people wanted to give a third of their possessions to Eric “pro redemptione crucis”, so that he would not have to leave the

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Riant, Expéditions et pélerinages; Gary B. Doxey, “Norwegian Crusaders and the Balearic Islands”, Scandinavian Studies 68 (1996), 139–60; L. Dietrichson, Monumenta Orcadica. Nordmændene på Orknøerne og deres efterladte mindesmærker med en oversigt over de keltiske (førnorske) og skotske (efternorske) monumenter paa øerne (Kristiania, 1906), pp. 86–89 (an abridged English version of the text is published in the same volume with the title: Monumenta Orcadica. The Norsemen in the Orkneys and the Monuments they have left with a survey of the Celtic (pre-Norwegian) and Scottish (postNorwegian) monuments on the islands); Ingrid De Geer, Earl, Saint, Bishop, Skald – and Music. The Orkney Earldom of the Twelfth Century. A Musicological Study (Uppsala, 1985), p. 89; Orkneyinga saga, ed. Finnbogi Guðmundsson, Íslenzk fornrit 34 (Reykjavík, 1965), caps 86–90. 57 Historia de profectione Danorum in Hierosolymam, in Scriptores minores, 2:443–92; Karen Skovgaard-Petersen, A Journey to the Promised Land: Crusading Theology in the Historia de profectione Danorum in Hierosolymam (c. 1200) (Copenhagen, 2001). Against Tyerman, The Invention, pp. 31–32. 58 Markús Skeggjason, Eiríksdrápa, in Den norsk-islandske skjaldedigtning, ed. Finnur Jónsson, 4 vols (1912–15; repr. Copenhagen, 1967–73), 1a:444–53 and 1b:414–20. 59 Markús Skeggjason, Eiríksdrápa, cap. 8, 1b:415: “Vorgum eyddi Vinða fergir, víking hepti konungr fíkjum.” 60 Markús Skeggjason, Eiríksdrápa, cap. 28, 1b:419. Probably another king was present in the First Crusade, namely the King of the Isle of Man and the Hebrides, Lagmann. He was reported by the Chronicle of Man to have freely renounced his kingdom because he felt remorse for his mutilation and blinding of his brother, and, signed with the Lord’s cross, died on his way to Jerusalem: Alan MacQuarrie, Scotland and the Crusades, 1095–1560 (Edinburgh, 1984), p. 11 with n. 20.

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country, but he refused.61 If Eric’s status as crucesignatus cannot be taken as certain, it is at least very likely. St Knud – a crusader saint Knud Lavard, Eric’s son, was born on 12 March 1096.62 When Eric went on crusade, he left the kingdom in the hands of his oldest son, Harold Kesje, and Knud was placed in the care of the Danish noble Skjalm Hvide. When the news of King Eric’s death reached Denmark, Eric’s brother Niels succeeded him, and he was the last of Sven Estridsson’s sons to become king. His reign lasted for thirty years, from 1104 to 1134. The Wends continued to plunder the Danish coastlines. Things improved, the Vita Kanuti relates, only when Knud Lavard was given the title of dux of Schleswig, organized the defense of the southern border, and secured peace and trade in the town of Schleswig. In 1127 Bishop Otto of Bamberg asked Archbishop Asser of Lund for permission to missionize on Rügen. The island of Rügen was made a Danish missionary field by papal decree probably during the last years of Eric Ejegod’s reign after, according to Saxo, Eric had conquered the island and placed it under the control of the Danish noble, Skjalm Hvide.63 At the same time Knud was involved in heavy fighting to win control of the island from the Wendish princes (the sons of the Christian Slav Henrik Godskalksen, who was the cousin of Knud). In 1129, after the death of Henrik Godskalksen, he was given North Albingen – the lands north of the Elbe – as a fief of the German King Lothar III. Thus, Knud became king of the Abotrites.64 The Vita Kanuti relates that he became dux by God’s will. He brought justice and the law to the Slav people. This he did by the sword. He dispersed the invaders of the kingdom; he persecuted the predators and hanged the thieves. In this fashion he quickly liberated his fatherland from persecution and devastation.65 In the chronicle

61 Sven Aggesen, Brevis historia regum Dacie, cap. 12, in Scriptores Minores, 1:128–29 (Engl. trans.: The Works of Svend Aggesen, Twelfth-Century Danish Historian, trans. Eric Christiansen (London, 1992), 48–74, at pp. 67–68); Annales Ryenses, in Danmarks middelalderlige annaler, pp. 149–76, at p. 163. 62 Olrik, Knud Lavards Liv, pp. 22–25. 63 Ebbonis vita Ottonis episcopi Babenbergensis, ed. R. Köpke, in MGH Scriptores 12:822–83, here p. 877 = Diplomatarium Danicum, ser. 1, 2, no. 50. Dated before 1127. For dating to Eric’s time, see Møller Jensen, “Danmark og den hellige krig”, pp. 299–300. Saxonis, 12.4.1–2 and 12.6.5. Cf. Lars Hermanson, “Släkt, vänner och makt i det tidiga 1100-talets Danmark”, Historisk Tidsskrift 98 (1998), 241–74 (English summary at 275), here 263–64; Hermanson, Släkt, vänner och makt, p. 150. 64 Helmold of Bosau, Cronica Slavorum, ed. B. Schmiedler, MGH Scriptores rerum Germanicarum in usum scholarum 32, 3rd edn (Hanover, 1937), 1.44 and 1.49. Cf. Hermanson, Släkt, vänner och makt, pp. 80–138, esp. pp. 115–19. 65 Vita sancti Kanuti, Passione, lectio 3a, p. 191: “Factus igitur dux dei disposicione Kanutus posuit super femur gladium suum et precinxit se uirtute; inuasores regni dissipat, perdit raptores et fures suspendit, et in breui ab omni persecucione patriam suam liberauit.”

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of Helmold these campaigns in northern Germany by St Knud were clearly seen as a war of conversion.66 But his success also made him a dangerous rival for the Danish throne, to which he perhaps was preparing to make a claim by taking the initial steps towards having Eric Ejegod canonized.67 Therefore, the son of King Niels, Magnus, tricked Knud into an ambush in the forest of Haraldsted in 1131 and killed him. This event resulted in the war for the crown between competing lines of the royal family, which did not end for good until Valdemar became king in 1157. Within a few years of Knud’s death, a cult seems to have risen around his grave. The successor to King Niels, Eric II Emune, brother of Knud, founded a monastery in Ringsted in 1135 to commemorate Knud68 and commissioned a Vita. In this early Vita, written in Denmark by Robert of Ely, but only known from later excerpts,69 Knud is praised for defending Christians against heathens. And because he equipped his churches with the necessary liturgical books, he is described as “no less a canon than a knight” and is even called a miles Christi.70 There might perhaps be a connection between this veneration of St Knud as a ‘knight of Christ’ and comments by Saxo and in the Knytlinga Saga that the saint’s brother Eric II Emune had reconquered the Island of Rügen in 1134 or 1136 and Christianized the inhabitants; but again it proved impossible to maintain control of the area, and the inhabitants soon apostatized.71 This was a very important change in the status of the Rugians. They were now no longer pagans who had to be invited to the faith; rather, they were apostates who not only could, but also should, be compelled to enter the church. Both Saxo and Helmold relate that the origin of the heathen god, Svantevit, was

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Helmold of Bosau, Chronica Slavorum, 1.42 and 1.46–48. Thomas Riis, Les institutions politiques centrales du Danemark 1100–1332, Odense University Studies in History and Social Sciences, 46 (Odense, 1977), pp. 198–200; Hill, Könige, p. 126. Erich Hoffmann thinks this “nur sehr wenig wahrscheinlich”; Erich Hoffmann, “Politische Heilige in Skandinavien und die Entwicklung der drei nordischen Reiche und Völker”, in Politik und Heiligenverehrung, pp. 277–324, here p. 292 with n. 66. But at least in Valdemar’s time, the connection to Eric had a relevance, due to his role in Vita Kanuti and Valdemar’s connection to Slangerup, which Thomas Hill believes to have been a way “seine und seiner Familie Herrschaft zu legitimieren” by “Andenken an seinen Großvater Erich Ejegod ... zu pflegen und möglicherweise eine Verehrung Erichs in Gang zu setzen”, without necessarily building upon earlier attempts to the same effect (my comment); Hill, Könige, pp. 158–59. 68 Diplomatarium Danicum, ser. 1, 2, no. 65. 69 Robert of Ely, Vita et miracula s. Canuti ducis, in Vitae sanctorum Danorum, pp. 234–41. Earlier editions are to be found in Scriptores Rerum Danicarum Medii Ævi, ed. J. Langebek and P. F. Suhm et al., 9 vols (Copenhagen, 1772–1878), 4:256–61 and in MGH Scriptores 29:9–11. Cf. Tue Gad, Legenden i dansk middelalder (Copenhagen, 1961), pp. 162–63. Robert of Ely was an English ecclesiastic who came to the Benedictine monastery of Ringsted about this time; see Vitae sanctorum Danorum, pp. 184–85; Hans Olrik, Danske Helgeners Levned (Copenhagen, 1893–94), pp. 348–49. 70 Robert of Ely, Vita et miracula, p. 236: “Non minus se canonicum quam militem exhibebat”; Carmina Ecclesiastica de sancto Kanuto duce et martyre, in Vitae sanctorum Danorum, pp. 221–29, here p. 228: “Christi miles dux Kanutus”. 71 Saxonis, 14.1.6–7; Knytlinga saga, cap. 101, p. 226. Cf. below for the relationship between crusade and canonization. 67

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the Carolingian saint, Vitus, in whose name the Rugians had been Christianized earlier.72 According to this tradition, monks from the abbey of Corvey were said to have Christianized the Rugians in the name of St Vitus in Carolingian times. The Rugians apostatized and raised a statue of St Vitus, which they venerated as an idol.73 This story might be a fable (although it is not totally unthinkable), but what is important are the assumptions it represents. If the continuous plundering by the Wends had not been enough, this was certain proof that the war was legitimate and just.74 As Helmold says, “the Rugians went astray from the light of truth, and thus their latter deceit was far worse than their former”.75 In 1146 a papal legate arrived in Denmark in order to preach the Second Crusade and arrange for Danish participation.76 But after the death of King Eric III the Lame in August 1146 civil war broke out between the two contestants for the crown, Sven III Grathe and Knud V Magnusson, which prevented participation in the expedition to the East. As the Second Crusade was turned against the Slav people living on the other side of the Elbe, Keld of Viborg succeeded in negotiating a truce between Sven and Knud in order to go to battle against the Wends.77 In the words of Saxo, “they did

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Saxonis, 14.39.13; Helmold of Bosau, Chronica Slavorum, 1.108. The story was used by the monks in the abbey of Corvey to claim a right over the island. They fabricated a bull, dated March 20th 844, in which Emperor Lothar I gave the island to the monastery, Pommersches Urkundenbuch, 1: 786–1253, ed. Klaus Conrad, 2nd ed. (Cologne, 1970), no. 4. In Hans Olrik, Absalon, 2 vols (Copenhagen, 1908–9), 1:183–84 it is said that the bull was fabricated in 1155, when the monks used it to get Pope Hadrian IV to confirm this right. This bull, though, is dated 1154 in Pommersches Urkundenbuch, and must anyway have been drawn up prior to 1149, when the then abbot of Corvey, Wibald, made a reference to it: Pommersches Urkundenbuch, no. 37, p. 40. The conquest of Rügen by Eric II Emune, mentioned by Saxo, but not by Helmold, may be important in the Danish claims to the island and therefore might be invented by Saxo. But then the monks of Corvey must have abandoned their claim to it, as from 1162 it is no longer mentioned in the abbey’s privileges, Pommersches Urkundenbuch, no. 44, 1:48. 74 Cf. David F. Johnson, “Euhemerisation versus Demonisation. The Pagan Gods and Ælfric’s De Falsis Diis”, in Pagans and Christians. The Interplay between Christian Latin and Traditional Germanic Cultures in Early Medieval Europe, ed. T. Hofstra, L. A. J. R. Houwen and A. A. MacDonald, Germania Latina 2 (Groningen, 1995), 35–69, about fables concocted by Christian writers to show that pagan gods are based on deceased human beings. The point of such fable was exactly to show that pagans were really apostates and thus had forfeited their natural rights. I would like to thank Dr Rasa Mazeika for this reference and comments. Cf. Kurt Villads Jensen, “Saxos grænser. Dehumaniseringen af venderne”, in Venderne og Danmark. Et tværfagligt seminar, ed. Carsten Selch Jensen, Kurt Villads Jensen and John Lind, Mindre Skrifter udgivet af Center for Middelalderstudier, Syddansk Universitet, Odense Universitet 20 (Odense, 2000), pp. 6–12, on this theme in Saxo’s chronicle. 75 Helmold of Bosau, Chronica Slavorum, 1.108, p. 213, lines 6–7: “Rani, qui et Ruguani, mutatis rebus a luce veritatis aberrarunt, factus est error peior priore.” 76 Cornelius Hamsfort, Chronologia Secunda, in Scriptores rerum Danicarum, 1:274. The editors of Diplomatarium Danicum, ser. 1, 2, no. 86, do not accept Hamsfort’s dating, but it must now be taken as the actual time of the papal legation, see Møller Jensen, “Danmark og den hellige krig”, pp. 309–11; Møller Jensen, “Denmark and the Holy War”. 77 Keld was canonized by Clemens III in 1189. His Vita relates that “[Keld] volens uanam gloriam disposvit Sclavis predicare ut martyr fierit”, Vita et miracula Sancti Ketilli, pp. 268–69. This was denied him, though, by Eugenius III. 73

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not want to let their internal strife detract from their religious duty”.78 Late in 1146, Sven III Grathe, together with St Knud’s son, Valdemar, translated the bones of St Knud to the high altar in Ringsted.79 This enshrinement of St Knud was obviously part of the preparations for the expedition against the Wends. They could not get the approval of the archbishop of Lund, Eskil, as he thought this move was not canonical without the approval of the pope.80 Yet it was an important action as it transformed St Knud into a crusader saint, very much like the canonization of Emperor Henry II in Germany before Conrad’s departure on the Second Crusade.81 This image of a crusader saint is what is presented to us in the Vita sancti Kanuti, written for the festival in 1170. It was also obviously a political move, as the other contender for the crown and son of Magnus, Knud V Magnusson, was turned into the son of a saint-slayer.82 As Kurt Villads Jensen has pointed out, the literary tradition concerning Knud changed. In the early Vita by Robert of Ely, Magnus tricks Knud Lavard into the ambush in Haraldsted by pretending that he wants to go on crusade to the Holy Land and would like Knud to take care of his wife and children while he is away.83 But in the later chronicle of Sven Aggesen, the story is turned upside down, so that it is Knud who has taken the cross.84 By then he had become a saint who protected

78 Saxo Grammaticus, p. 364; Saxonis, 14.3.5: “Ne ergo Dani privatæ militiæ rebus publicæ religionis officia detrectarent, sumptis sacræ peregrinationis insignibus, imperium amplectuntur.” 79 Vita sancti Kanuti, Translacione, lectio 6a, p. 202. Cf. Vitae sanctorum Danorum, p. 171 with n. 1. 80 Vita sancti Kanuti, Translacione, lectio 6a, p. 202. 81 Kurt Villads Jensen, “Denmark and the Second Crusade: The Formation of a Crusader State?”, in The Second Crusade: Scope and Consequences, ed. Jonathan Phillips and Martin Hoch (Manchester, 2001), pp. 164–79; Jonathan Phillips, “Papacy, Empire and the Second Crusade”, in ibid., pp. 15–31. See Renata Klauser, Der Heinrichs- und Kunigundenkult im mittelalterlichen Bistum Bamberg (Bamberg, 1957), p. 55ff. 82 Later, of course, Valdemar switched allegiance from Sven to Knud Magnusson and that had to be explained by the chroniclers: Rikke Malmros, “Blodgildet i Roskilde historiografisk belyst. Knytlingesagas forhold til det tolvte århundredes danske historieskrivning”, Scandia 45 (1979), 43–66. This shift manifested itself in a reappraisal of Knud Magnusson, which might even have resulted in his veneration as a saint after he was killed at the “blood-feast” in Roskilde in 1157, a reappraisal Valdemar later tried to suppress when descendants of Knud Magnusson used it to make a claim to the throne: cf. ibid., esp. pp. 47 and 59; Hill, Könige, pp. 165–66; Anne K. G. Kristensen, “Knud Magnussens krønike”, Historisk Tidsskrift ser. 12, 3 (1969), 431–50. 83 Robert of Ely, Vita et miracula, p. 237: “Magnus simulat se Ierosolymam iturum, et vxorum ac prolem commendat Duci.” 84 Sven Aggesen, Brevis historia, cap. 13, pp. 132 and 133 (The Works of Svend Aggesen, pp. 68–69). Both recensions have the wording: “sancte crucis uexillo insignitus”. This might also be an allusion to Matt. 16.24 (and has been interpreted as such in the Danish historiography) but this was an essential part of the crusading ideology anyhow. The signing with the cross was at the time of Sven Aggesen a more formalized procedure and liturgical manuals were found describing the ritual; see James A. Brundage, “Cruce signari: The Rite for Taking the Cross in England”, Traditio 22 (1966), 289–310; Kenneth Pennington, “The Rite for Taking the Cross in the Twelfth Century”, Traditio 30 (1974), 429–35; James A. Brundage, Medieval Canon Law and the Crusader (Wisconsin, 1969), pp. 1–114. I therefore find Jensen’s reading to be correct.

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Christians against attacks from heathen pirates, as some of his miracle stories relate.85 When Knud became dux in Schleswig he obtained control of a very important and rich centre for the trade on the Baltic. Merchants from Novgorod are testified there from the early twelfth century. He was called senior and protector of that trade and the early cult might have started among merchants who sought his protection against the Wendish pirates.86 In his role as patron saint of the St Knud’s Guilds, he became the protector of traders and warriors in the Baltic. These guilds were not only commercial organizations, but probably had some role in the further Danish military expansion in the Baltic as well, since Valdemar himself became a confrater and tried to centralize the organization thus strengthening the bond between the king and the saint.87 The Knud Guilds formed a network important in organizing the expansion of the Danish kingdom, which intensified through a perpetual papal indulgence after the conquest of Rügen (1171).88 The Danish founding of the monastery of Dargun in Pomerania in 1172 was a part of the Danish expansion in the Baltic,89 and the official consecration of the abbey took place on June 25 – the translation day of St Knud. St. Knud played an important role as a crusader saint in the Danish expansion in the Baltic towards the end of the twelfth century and the beginning of the thirteenth. We catch a glimpse of this role in the Vita of Abbot Wilhelm, written around 1218: “Valdemar, son of the martyr Knud, drove away the Wends from his kingdom, who frequently used to invade. As he was son of a martyr, he was victorious through the saint’s intercession in all the battles of the wars he fought with the Wends, who were then pagans. By doing so, with the way to eternal salvation shown to them, he gathered them to bend their necks under the yoke of Christ.”90 As for Eric Ejegod, the important factor is that Knud brought peace to the country through his fight

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Miracula sancti Kanuti, p. 244: “Christiani pauci et inermes inuocantes sanctum Kanutum multos piratas paganos deuicerunt, leso nemine Christiano. Ferunt lanceam ad sepulchrum sancti in ipsos missam.” Another miracle relates that St Knud liberated a man from heathen captivity, as he called for his help in prison: “In regno Suerkæ in insula, que ... dicitur, institor quidam captus a barbaris et spoliatus ac cathenatus in carcere inuocauit sanctum Kanutum; qui ei cum lumine astitit et eum soluens eduxit”, ibid. 86 John Lind, “De russiske ægteskaber. Dynasti- og alliancepolitik i 1130’ernes danske borgerkrig”, Historisk Tidsskrift 92 (1992), 225–63, here 236–37. Cf. also Erich Hoffmann, “Die Kuppa des Taufsteins von Munkbrarup – eine bildliche Aussage über den ‘Märtyrertod’ Knud Lavards?”, in Medieval Spirituality in Scandinavia and Europe. A Collection of Essays in Honour of Tore Nyberg, ed. Lars Bisgaard, Carsten Selch Jensen, Kurt Villads Jensen and John Lind (Odense, 2001), pp. 115–20. 87 Danmarks Gilde- og Lavsskråer fra Middelalderen, ed. C. Nyrop, 2 vols (Copenhagen, 1899– 1900), no. 1, 1:3–5; Diplomatarium Danicum, ser. 1, 3, no. 63, pp. 93–95. Cf. Hans Torben Gilkær, “In honore sancti Kanuti martyris. Konge og Knudsgilder i det 12. århundrede”, Scandia 46 (1980), 121–61, esp. pp. 136–45. 88 Diplomatarium Danicum, ser. 1, 3, no. 27 = PL 200:860; Regesta Pontificum, 12118. 89 Stella Maria Szacherska, “The political role of the Danish monasteries in Pomerania 1171–1223”, Mediaeval Scandinavia 10 (1977), 122–55. 90 Sancti Willelmi abbati vita et miracula, in Vitae sanctorum Danorum, pp. 300–386, here p. 319, lines 1–10 (my emphasis).

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against the heathens. In the Annals of Lund this was also stressed: St Knud had made peace in his “patria” by protecting it from attacks by “pirates”.91 He was remembered as the one “who converted the wolves into lambs, the bellicose into pacifists, war into peace and heathens into Christians”.92 This last description equates peace with the conversion of the heathens. It was a powerful image that was repeated in one of the songs that were to be sung at his festival: “He brought peace to the Danes and the faith to the heathens” – “Pacem Danis et paganis fidem sanctus contulit.”93 King Valdemar I the Great In the Translacio part of the Vita Kanuti, Valdemar is described in very much the same terms. After securing the crown for himself in 1157, he made two very important and telling moves. He mustered his fleet to end the attacks of the Wends, and he made a donation to the monastery of Esrom in order to have the shrine of St Knud gilded.94 Before one of these expeditions against the Wends, Saxo tells us, the archbishop of Lund excommunicated everyone who would not follow the king after asserting that Valdemar was fighting with the right intentions.95 I think we have to understand this passage to mean that the war against the Wends was fought under some sort of ecclesiastical jurisdiction – or at least with the Church’s blessing. Furthermore we know that some people who fought the Wends had actually taken the cross.96 Whether this made it a crusade according to the later definitions discussed earlier is beside the point. What is important is that Valdemar’s campaign fits into the contemporary definitions of the just and holy war.97 In the Translacio part of the Vita Kanuti, we also find King Valdemar described as one who brings peace: “As it was the will of God, Valdemar was victorious in the civil war, and all of Denmark was given to him. In this way the victorious King Valdemar called the heathens to the faith, the faithful to the peace, the peaceful to security, and turned

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Annales Lundenses, p. 56, sub a. 1130: “tantam enim pacem fecerat in patria illa, in qua piratis et predonibus infestantibus nullus uel in terris uel in aquis tutus erat, quod ubi armati et bene muniti mortem metuebant, tam uiri quam mulieres sine metu incedebant”. 92 Ibid., “Sclauorum rex et dux Danorum Kanutus, filius Erici Ejegod, qui lupos in agnos, predones in pacificios, bellum in pacem, paganos in cristianos conuertit ... peremtus est.” 93 Carmina Ecclesiastica de sancto Canuto, p. 223, line 30. 94 Saxonis, 14.20.1; Diplomatarium Danicum, ser. 1, 2, no. 122, dated 1157–60. 95 Saxonis, 14.23.2. Cf. Møller Jensen, “Danmark og den hellige krig”, pp. 312–13, contrary to the translation in Saxo Grammaticus, p. 778. 96 Libri memoriales capituli Lundensis. Lunde Domkapitels Gavebøger, ed. C. Weeke (1884–89; repr. Copenhagen, 1973), p. 195: “Asmundus et Godmundus, illustres laici, apud Slavos sub signo sancte crucis occisi sunt.” 97 Cf. Villads Jensen, “Saxos grænser”.

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hate into love, sorrow into joy, war into peace, and poverty into prosperity”.98 Once more, peace was attained through the conversion of the heathens. The king and the peace This image of the king as peace-bringer is very important. In this context it operates on two levels. It was part of the royal or princely ideology that the king protected or secured the peace through arms when the pagans attacked his kingdom. But the Christian peace was threatened not merely by the heathens’ recurring attacks, but also, according to the theologians of the twelfth century, simply because they were not Christians. Because of their pagan belief and resistance to the faith, they could legitimately and justly be fought. On this level the king aimed either to kill or Christianize them in order to bring peace to the country. This was most explicitly put by Bernard of Clairvaux in his famous letter accompanying the papal bull Divini dispensatione giving the same remission of sins to those fighting the Wends as to those who went to the Holy Land.99 Here, the Wends are seen as a part of the devil’s forces who “lie in wait with evil intent”, while the Christian forces went to the Holy Land.100 To fight them is the work of God. It is therefore most strongly prohibited (following Scott James’s translation) “that for any reason whatsoever a truce should be made with these peoples, either for the sake of money or for the sake of tribute, until such a time as, by God’s help, they shall be either converted or wiped out”.101 Some debate exists concerning the true meaning of this statement.102 Friedrich Lotter argues that Bernard did not exhort his readers to massacre the Wends. Instead Bernard only meant “the Wends are to be allowed to continue to exist in national units under their own chiefs if they are willing to convert . . . But if they refuse to do that, their political organization should be destroyed and they should be subjugated by Christian rulers.”103 But as Jay T. Lees says, “Bernard was asking a lot of the crusaders if he expected them to follow the niceties of this distinction”, and at least one contemporary high-ranked ecclesiastic understood it as a matter of conversion

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Vita sancti Kanuti, p. 203, lines 20–24: “Rex igitur Waldemarus, uictoriosus, paganos ad fidem, fideles ad pacem, pacificos ad securitatem prouocauit; odium in dilectionem, dolorem in gaudium, bellum in pacem et egestatum conuertit in opulenciam.” 99 Bernard of Clairvaux, ep. 457, PL 182:651–52. For the English quotations I have used the translation in The Letters of St. Bernard of Clairvaux, ed. Bruno Scott James (1953; repr. London, 1998), no. 394, pp. 466–68. The bull is printed in PL 180:1203–4; Regesta Pontificum, 9017. 100 The Letters of St. Bernard of Clairvaux, p. 467. 101 Ibid., p. 467. 102 See e.g. Lotter, Die Konzeption des Wendenkreuzzugs, pp. 14–17; Hans-Dietrich Kahl, “‘... Auszujäten von der Erde die Feinde des Christennamens ... .’ Der Plan zum ‘Wendenkreuzzug’ von 1147 als umsetzung Sibyllinischer Eschatologie”, Jahrbuch für die Geschichte Mittel- und Ostdeutschlands 39 (1990), 133–60. 103 Lotter, “The Crusading Idea”, pp. 289–92, quotation at pp. 291–92.

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or death, so I think Scott James’s translation is justified.104 If other ways of preventing their evil existed, Bernard believed the heathens did not have to be killed,105 but in their persistence in rejecting the true faith, they took a stand on the devil’s side. Thus to kill them would not be an act of homicide but an act of “malocide”.106 “For what kind of sacrifice”, asked Saxo, “could we consider more pleasing to the Almighty than the slaughter of wicked men?”107 Christian theology identified paganism as a threat to the Christian peace, and with the declared goal of building a realm of peace, one could fight a just and holy war against the Wends.108 This was – as we have seen – a very important part of the royal ideology as described in the Vita Kanuti. But the hagiographic topoi concerning the just king are not confined to ecclesiastical sources; they are also found in contemporary Norse texts and sagas and therefore made perfect sense also to a Scandinavian audience.109 They are, of course, weighted differently in the sagas from the Latin sources, but this stems perhaps more from the characteristics of the genres than from contrary perceptions of royal virtues.110

104

Jay T. Lees, Anselm of Havelberg. Deeds into Words in the Twelfth Century (Leiden, 1998), p. 76, n. 20; Odo of Deuil, De profectione Ludovici VII in orientem, ed. and trans. Virginia G. Berry (New York, 1948), pp. 70–71. 105 Bernard of Clairvaux, Ad milites Templi de laude novae militiae, 1.3.4, in Bernhard von Clairvaux sämtliche Werke, ed. Gerhard B. Winkler, 10 vols (Innsbruck, 1990–99), 1:276. 106 Bernard of Clairvaux, Ad milites Templi, 1.3.4 and 5, pp. 276–78. Again Bernard’s ideas are found in vernacular literature (cf. Wentzlaff-Eggebert, Kreuzzugsdichtung; Peter Hölzle, Die Kreuzzüge in der okzitanischen und deutschen Lyrik des 12. Jahrhunderts (Das Gattungsproblem ‘Kreuzlied’ im historischen Kontext), 2 vols, Göppinger Arbeiten zur Germanistik (Göppingen, 1980)), but they are also based on more fundamental Christian principles of the time, e.g. Augustine’s teachings, taken into canon law, that the use of force and punishment – even vengeance – could be an expression of Christian caritas: Ivo of Chartres, Decretum, in PL 161:59–1023, here 10.59–61, cols 707–10 and C. 23 q. 4 c. 51; Corpus Iuris Canonici, ed. Emil Friedberg, 2 vols (repr. Graz, 1959), 1:926–28. Cf. Jonathan Riley-Smith, “Crusading as an Act of Love”, History 65 (1980), 177–92; Taylor, “Moral Agency in Crusade and Colonization”, pp. 757–84. 107 Saxo Grammaticus, p. 611; Saxonis, 16.5.1. 108 Lotter, “The Crusading Idea”, pp. 274–75. This parallel between Christianity and peace was very explicit in the Vita sancti Kanuti, above, n. 98, and Carmina Ecclesiastica de sancto Kanuto, p. 223: “Quos a uanis et prophanis/ Ritibus recedere/ Et in Christum credere/ Compulit sub pacis federe.” 109 E.g. Sverrissaga. The Saga of King Sverri of Norway, trans. J. Sephton (London, 1899; repr. Felinfach, 1994); Orkneyinga saga, ed. Finnbogi Guðmundsson, Íslenzk fornrit 34 (Reykjavík, 1965), cap. 68 (English trans.: Orkneyinga Saga. The History of the Earls of Orkney, trans. with an introduction by Hermann Pálsson and Paul Edwards (London, 1981)). Cf. Peter Foote, “Observations on Orkneyinga Saga”, in St. Magnus Cathedral and Orkney’s Twelfth-Century Renaissance, ed. Barbara E. Crawford (Aberdeen, 1988), pp. 192–207; Torfinn Tobiassen, “Tronfølgelov og privilegiebrev. En studie i kongedømmets ideologi under Magnus Erlingsson”, Historisk Tidsskrift (Oslo) 43 (1964), 181–273; Gad, Legenden, pp. 151–52. 110 Cf. Bjørn Bandlien, “A New Norse Knighthood? The Impact of the Templars in 12th-Century Norway”, in Medieval History Writing and Crusading Ideology, ed. Kurt Villads Jensen and Tuomas Lehtonen, Analecta Romana Instituti Danici (forthcoming, 2003). I would like to thank Bjørn Bandlien for allowing me to see a version of his article prior to its publication.

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Other important sources of royal ideology are coronation-ordines and arengae of royal diplomas.111 Unfortunately, the ordo used at the coronation of Valdemar’s son in 1170 at the church festival in Ringsted has not been preserved. No ordo was entirely original; it always was a compilation based, more or less, on older liturgical elements.112 Since the English influence on the Danish Church was substantial, and is well attested especially in liturgical matters, the Danish ordo may have been modelled upon the English ceremony used in the middle of the twelfth century.113 The English ceremony states that the first promise the king-to-be has to make is to “serve the true peace for the church of God and the Christian people”.114 Later, it is said that as long as he reigns the peace shall be inviolata.115 It is prayed that the king might be the strongest defender of the “patria”, guardian of the churches and generous towards the monasteries and that he should subjugate rebellious and heathen nations.116 This role was further elaborated when the bishop was to give the king the sword “to defend the Church of God”.117 “Gird yourself with your sword above your thigh most powerful, in order to exercise justice through its power and utterly destroy injustice, to protect God’s Holy Church and his faithful by fighting,

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Fichtenau, Arenga; Heinrich Fichtenau, “Monarchische Propaganda in Urkunden”, in Heinrich Fichtenau, Beiträge zur Mediävistik. Ausgewählte Aufsätze, 3 vols (Stuttgart, 1975–86), 2:19–22 and 32–36. Cf. Ian A. Robinson, Henry IV of Germany, 1056–1106 (Cambridge, 1999), p. 12. 112 Richard A. Jackson, “Manuscripts, Texts, and Enigmas of Medieval French Coronation Ordines”, Viator 23 (1992), 35–71, here 35–36. Cf. Ordines Coronationis Franciae. Texts and Ordines for the Coronation of Frankish and French Kings and Queens in the Middle Ages, ed. Richard A. Jackson, vol. 1 (Philadelphia, 1995), pp. 32–38. 113 French and German origins have been suggested; cf. Nanna Damsholt, “Kingship in the Arengae of Danish Royal Diplomas 1140–1223”, Mediaeval Scandinavia 3 (1970), 66–108, here 83–84; Malcolm Barber, The Two Cities. Medieval Europe 1050–1320 (London, 1992), p. 385. 114 The Pontifical of Magdalene College, ed. H. A. Wilson, Publications of the Henry Bradshaw Society 39 (London, 1910), p. 89: “In christi nomine promitto hec tria populo christiano michi subdito. In primis me precepturum et opem pro uiribus impensurum. ut ecclesia dei et omnis populus christianus ueram pacem nostro arbitrio in omni tempore seruet.” Cf. H. G. Richardson, “The English Coronation Oath”, Speculum 24 (1949), 44–75, here 44–48. J. Brückmann, “The Ordines of the Third Recension of the Medieval Coronation Order”, in Essays in Medieval History Presented to Bertie Wilkinson, ed. T. A. Sandquist and M. R. Powicke (Toronto, 1969), pp. 99–115. Cf. Bartlett, England, p. 126; H. E. J. Cowdrey, “The Anglo-Norman Laudes Regiae”, Viator 12 (1981), 37–78, here 68–78. 115 The Pontifical of Magdalene College, p. 91: “Illo regnante sit sanitas corporum in patria. et pax inviolata sit in regno.” Cf. the ordo from Mainz, from the year 960: “ut illo regnante sit sanitas corporis in patria, pax inviolata sit in regno”, Die Ordines für die Weihe und Krönung des Kaisers und der Kaiserin, ed. Reinhard Elze, MGH Fontes Iuris Germanica Antiqui in usum scholarum 9: Ordines Coronationis Imperialis (Hanover, 1960), p. 4, lines 29–30. 116 The Pontifical of Magdalene College, p. 91: “Tribue ei omnipotens deus ut sit fortissimus protector patrie. et consolator ecclesiarum atque cenobiorum sanctorum maxima cum pietate regalis munificiente. atque ut sit fortissimus regum. triumphator hostium. ad opprimendas rebelles et paganas nationes [my emphasis]”. Cf. Die Ordines, and compare also Widukind of Corvey, Rerum gestarum Saxonicarum libri tres, ed. G. Waitz and K. A. Kehr, 5th edn rev. by Paul Hirsch, MGH Scriptores rerum gestarum in usum scholarum 60 (Hanover, 1935), 2.1, p. 66. 117 The Pontifical of Magdalene College, p. 92: “In defensionem sancte dei ecclesie”. Cf. Vita Karoli Magni, 1.13, pp. 34–35.

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and to destroy and persecute false Christians no less than enemies of the Christian name”.118 It would have been appropriate for these aspects to have been emphasized at the coronation of Knud VI, not least because they were the aspects most inherent in the Vita Kanuti, and because the arengae of Danish royal diplomas bear witness to the king’s role as protector of the church and the peace.119 In sum, the war on the heathens was presented as a war for the Christian peace. This was also how Valdemar and the Church viewed the war against the heathens around 1170: it was a war for peace and it was intimately linked with the war against, and conversion of, the heathen neighbours of the kingdom. In this way, the war on the pagan Wends was viewed within the crusading ideology of the time, and Valdemar took great pains at presenting himself as a crusading king. He donated a tax of one denarius, called huspenning in Danish, of every household in the country to the Hospitallers, who came to Denmark in the latter half of the 1160s.120 He appeared on coins with a pilgrim palm-leaf and a banner with a cross (see Fig. 3),121 and he was descended, according to the Vita Kanuti, from kings who had fought against the heathens, thereby bringing peace to his country and extending the border of Christendom. This was how he himself wanted to be remembered. When he was buried he had his finest deeds summed up, engraved on a little leaden plate buried with him under his head (see Fig. 4). It reads: “Here lies Valdemar, king of the Danes, the first conqueror and lord of the Slavs, liberator of the fatherland, keeper of the peace, who as the son of St. Knud conquered the Rugians and first converted them to the Christian faith .. .”122 118 The Pontifical of Magdalene College, p. 92: “Accingere gladio tuo super femur tuum potentissime. ut per eundem uim equitatis exerceas. molem iniquitatis potenter destruas. et sanctam dei ecclesiam eiusque fideles propugnando protegas. nec minus sub fide falsos quam christiani nominis hostes exerceris ac destruas.” The role as defender of the Church, that is all the faithful, especially those that cannot protect themselves, is especially stressed, e.g. “uiduas et pupillos”, ibid. Cf. beside the examples given above, The Pontifical of Magdalene College, pp. 92 and 94. The words “accingere gladio tuo super femur tuum” constitute a biblical reference: Exodus 32:27; Psalms 44:4. It was also used to describe how St Knud prepared himself to defend his Patria, Vita sancti Kanuti, p. 191, lines 20–21. This is not to suggest any direct relationship between the texts but to show the common Christian origin in describing royal virtues. Cf. e.g. Die Ordines, pp. 28, lines 6–8 and 31, lines 1–2. It also appeared in an explicit crusading context, e.g. Bernard of Clairvaux cited them in the prologue of his Ad milites Templi, 1.1, p. 270, and in a letter to Conrad III just before Conrad departed on the Second Crusade, ep. 244, PL 182:442. Also by Baldric of Bourgeuil, Historia Jerosolimitana, in RHC Oc. 4:15. 119 Damsholt, “Kingship”, pp. 66–108, esp. p. 89. 120 Diplomatarium Danicum, ser. 1, 7, no. 156, pp. 139–40: “unum denarium, qui vocatur huspenning”. Cf. ibid., ser. 1, 2, no. 163, for the earliest reference to Hospitallers in Denmark. 121 P. Hauberg, Atlas over Danmarks Mønter ca. 870–1241, 19 tavler, Det Kongelige Danske Videnskabers Selskabs Skrifter, ser. 6, Historisk og filosofisk Afdeling 5, nos 1 and 3 (1900, 1906; repr. Copenhagen, 1965), table III, no. 61, p. 16. 122 “Hic iacet Danorum rex Waldemarus, primus Sclauorum expugnator et dominator, Patrie liberator, pacis conseruator. Qui filius sancti Kanuti Rugianos expugnauit et ad fidem Christi primus conuertit ...”, Tabula sepulchralis Waldemari primi, inscriptio prior, in Scriptores Minores 2:87. Also seen as the first of the three memorable achievements of Valdemar by Sven Aggesen, Brevis historia, cap. 18, pp. 138–39 (The Works of Svend Aggesen, p. 72 and n. 191, p. 137).

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Coin showing Valdemar I

Conclusion The themes described here were an integral part of the royal ideology that was presented in the Danish sources, which, in turn, reflected the ideology of contemporary Latin Christendom. The moves to consolidate the power base within this ideology followed the same patterns as in other Latin Christian kingdoms and the Empire. In Denmark, the king was described as bringing peace to the country through his war on the neighbouring heathen peoples. This was an important part of building up the royal power; and it followed the rules for legitimate and holy war as understood by the theologians. It was a war of conversion, which had the support of the papacy because it was theologically sound, and an important part of the general war on the enemies of the faith for the Christian peace. This was explicitly stressed by Alexander III, who in the introduction to his bull of 4 November 1169, said: “When the Christian faith, supported by the divine mercy, is spread and the evil of the pagan peoples is tamed and put in chains, we [Alexander] feel a greater joy and happiness in our heart the more the commandments of God are followed as a consequence thereof and the holy universal Church day by day gains in strength.”123 Thus the war was conceived within the crusading ideology of the time. To neglect this aspect of the wars of the Danish kings and Danish Church in the twelfth century is to misunderstand the ideology, legitimization and self-comprehension of the Danish royal power of the time. It also prevents us from understanding how crusading thought developed as a consequence of the experiences on the frontiers of Latin Christendom. It is therefore more useful to integrate the Danish material into the new understanding of the crusades in the twelfth century than to characterize the expansive wars of the Danish kings in the twelfth century as not “full-fledged” crusades. 123 Diplomatarium Danicum, ser. 1, 2, no. 189, p. 344, lines 24–27 = PL 200:607D; Regesta Pontificum, 11645.

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Tabula sepulchralis Waldemari primi

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Frontier Activities: the Transformation of a Muslim Sacred Site into the Frankish Castle of Vadum Iacob Ronnie Ellenblum The Hebrew University of Jerusalem The Frankish castle of Vadum Iacob (Jacob’s Ford) was recently interpreted by Malcolm Barber as being part of a military frontier.1 Barber believes that the history of the castle supports Deschamps’s claim that castles were built to defend frontiers, refuting Smail’s hypothesis that they were built to dominate areas and maintain Latin rule over them.2 Barber argues that during the second half of the twelfth century the military orders compelled the Latin kingdom to adopt a new, coherent frontier policy and that an equivalent policy was adopted by the Muslims as well. Barber’s interpretation of the region as a frontier is in accord with the geographical situation. The castle was built in a sparsely populated march,3 on one of the two main crossings from Palestine to Syria and on the main road that leads from Cairo to Damascus – the Via Maris.4 But the frontier referred to in his article is only the military one; the cultural and logistic aspects go unmentioned, although they may be of importance for the understanding of the history of Vadum Iacob. The present paper deals with four additional aspects of this medieval frontier, aspects that will eventually lead to an alternative interpretation of its fate. A cultural dialogue across the Frankish–Muslim frontier According to twelfth-century Muslim traditions the hill of Vadum Iacob is identified with the dwelling of the Patriarch Jacob, where he learned of the alleged death of his 1 Malcolm Barber, “Frontier Warfare in the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem: The Campaign of Jacob’s Ford, 1178–79”, in The Crusades and Their Sources: Essays Presented to Bernard Hamilton, ed. John France and William G. Zajac (Aldershot, 1998), pp. 9–22 (hereafter cited as Barber, “Jacob’s Ford”). 2 Paul Deschamps, Les Châteaux des croisés en Terre Sainte, 2: La Défense du royaume de Jérusalem (Paris, 1939), p. 14; Raymond C. Smail, Crusading Warfare 1097–1193, 2nd ed. (Cambridge, 1995), pp. 207–8. 3 The nearest inhabited centres in the vicinity were situated as far away as Damascus (about one day’s walk from Vadum Jacob), Tiberias, Safed and Baniyas (each about half a day’s walk from it): Abu Shama, ar-Rawdatayni fi akhbar ad-dawlatayni (an-Nuriyya was-sallahiyya), 2 vols (Cairo, 1287–88), 2:7 (hereafter cited as Abu Shama). Al-Muqaddasi, however, estimates the latter to be a full day’s walk: see his Ahsanu t-taqasim fi ma’rifati l-aqalim, Bibliotheca Geographicorum Arabicorum (hereafter BGA) 3, ed. M. J. De Goeje, 2nd ed. (Leiden, 1906), pp. 190–91 (hereafter cited as al-Muqaddasi.) 4 The other possible crossing from Syria to Palestine was near the city of Baniyas about twenty miles to the north, but by the end of the 1170s this crossing was already under Muslim rule.

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beloved son Joseph. The Arabic name of the site, Bayt al-Ahzan – meaning “house of grief” – reflects his lamentation.5 Earlier Muslim traditions, however, identified other sites in the same region as being related to that event. Tenth-century Muslim geographers, for example, had already identified the pit into which Joseph was thrown as being in a place called Jubb Yusuf (Joseph’s Pit), about ten miles southwest of Bayt al-Ahzan.6 Some of them were well aware of the existence of an alternative “Joseph’s pit” in the Dothan Valley, about sixty miles southwest of Vadum Iacob, and were cautious enough to mention this tradition as well. Yaqut, for example, admits on the one hand that “the Jubb [pit] of Yusuf . . . , into which his brother threw him, . . . is . . . between Baniyas and Tiberias . . .”; but on the other hand he qualifies that statement by saying that this tradition is “according to al-Istakhri. And the others say: Jacob lived in the region of Nablus, in Palestine, and the pit into which he was thrown is in one of its villages, between Sinjil and Nablus.”7 But despite the controversy, the northern pit was sanctified, and its sanctity and that of the Patriarch Jacob were later transferred to Bayt al-Ahzan as well. ‘Imad al-Din al-Isfahani, who witnessed the siege and destruction of Vadum Iacob in 1179, mentions that a Muslim shrine had been built on the same hill, predating the construction of the Frankish castle. Saladin, he says, vowed not to abandon the site until it was returned to its former function as a centre of (Muslim) pilgrimage, and envisaged that “many pilgrims would be able to travel happily to the holy place of Jacob (Mashad Ya‘qubi) as they did in the past”.8 This testimony is supported by al-Harawi who refers to the shrine of Bayt al-Ahzan as a separate site situated within the precinct of Qasir Yaqub (Jacob’s Castle) but not identical with it.9 Neither ‘Imad al-Din nor al-Harawi details the history of the sanctuary, but it is possible to assume that the Muslim shrine was built in 1157 to commemorate a Muslim victory over the Franks in a battle waged there. It is interesting to note that the Frankish name Vadum Iacob, which associates the site with the Patriarch Jacob, is also mentioned for the first time in connection with the battle of 1157.10

5

See Gen. 37:32–35. Among tenth-century Muslim geographers who mention this tradition see Ibn Khurradadhbih, Kitab al-masalik wa-l-mamalik, ed. M. J. De Goeje, BGA 6 (Leiden, 1889), p. 219; Al-Istakhri, Kitab al-masalik wa-l-mamalik, ed. M. J. De Goeje, BGA 1 (Leiden, 1870), p. 59; Ibn Hawqal, Kitab surat al-ard, 2nd ed., ed. J. H. Kramers, BGA 2 (Leiden, 1938), p. 114; al-Muqaddasi, p. 191: “From Tiberias to Lajjun, or to Jubb Yusuf or Baisan, or to ‘Aqabat-Fiq or to Jish, or Kafr Qilla, one day of journey to each.” 7 Yaqut al-Hamawi [ar-Rumi], Kitab mu’jam al-buldan, 5 vols (Beirut, 1374–76 [=1955–57]), 2:100–101. For a similar reservation see ‘Ali al-Harawi, Kitab al-isharat ila ma‘rifat az-ziyarat, ed. Janine Sourdel-Thomine (Damascus, 1953), p. 20 (hereafter cited as al-Harawi); for a French translation see ‘Ali al-Harawi, Guide des lieux de pèlerinage, trans. Janine Sourdel-Thomine (Damascus, 1957), p. 51. 8 ‘Imad al-Din al-Isfahani, Sana ‘l-Barqu ‘sh-shami, an abridgement by ‘Ali al-Bundari of Kitab al barku ‘sh-shami, ed. Fathiyya an-Nabarawi (Cairo, 1409/1989) pp. 170–71 (hereafter cited as ‘Imad al-Din); for the description of Abu Shama, who probably quotes ‘Imad al-Din, see Abu Shama, p. 11. 9 al-Harawi, p. 20; French translation, p. 51. 10 WT 18.13, p. 830. 6

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The Latin authors went even further in elaborating the borrowed tradition by identifying other events in the life of the Patriarch Jacob at the same location. William of Tyre claims that Vadum Iacob “is the place where Jacob, as he was returning from Mesopotamia, divided his people into two bands and sent messengers to his brother, saying, ‘For with my staff I passed over this Jordan; and now I am become two bands’ ”.11 Ernoul continues along the same lines by identifying “li Gués Jacob” with the place where Jacob struggled against the angel, “broke his thigh”, and was renamed Israel.12 The Bible, however, locates this struggle in a place named “Vadum Iaboc”,13 and the transjordanian identification of the Iaboc that was known to Eusebius came to be forgotten in the twelfth century.14 In the 1130s, Fretellus still identified it as being in Idumea,15 but in the 1160s John of Würzburg “corrected” the biblical text by calling the place of the struggle Vadum Iacob, not Vadum Iaboc;16 and although it is not at all clear if John of Würzburg’s Vadum Iacob is identical with the site which concerns us here, it is evident that the similarity between Vadum Iacob and Vadum Iaboc was already well established by the 1160s. The transfer of Muslim traditions continued to be demonstrated after the battle of Hattin. Thietmar, in the second decade of the thirteenth century, identified Dothaim – “ubi Joseph fratres suos reperit et ubi venditus est ab eis” – with Corazim, which is very close to Vadum Iacob.17 On the other hand, “Jacob [sic!] River, where

11

WT 21, 25, p. 997; the quotation is from Gen. 32:10. “Cil lius qui est apielés li Gués Jacob, c’est là u Jacob luita à l’angle, et là u il ot brisie le cuisse, quant il repairait d’Aran, là u il estoit fuis pour Esaü, son frere. En cel liu fu ce que li angeles li dist qu’il ne s’apielast mais Jacob, mais Israel.” Chronique d’Ernoul et de Bernard le Trésorier, ed. Louis de Mas Latrie (Paris, 1871), p. 52 (hereafter cited as Ernoul). It may be noted that, according to the Bible, Jacob’s thigh was not broken in the struggle: see Gen. 32:22–30. 13 Gen. 32:22. 14 “Vadum Iaboc” is identified with Wadi az-Zarkah, south of Gerasa on the road to Amman. See Félix M. Abel, Géographie de la Palestine 1: Géographie physique et historique (Paris, 1933), pp. 480, 486. According to Eusebius the Iaboc is the river that flows between Philadelphia (i.e. Amman) and Gerasa: Eusebius, Onomasticon 102.19.21. See F. Vigourous, Dictionnaire de la Bible, vol. 4 (Paris, 1903), p. 1057. The first medieval traveller to locate the place correctly was Ashtori ha-Parhi (fourteenth century): see his Kaftor va-Perah, ed. Abraham M. Luncz (Jerusalem, 1899), p. 631 (in Hebrew). 15 “In finibus Ydumee secundo miliario a Iordane fluvius Iaboch [MS Vat. Reg. Lat. 712: Iacob]; quo transvadato a Iacob cum a Mesopotamia rediret luctatus fuit cum angelo, qui de Iacob nomen eius mutavit in Israel.” Rorgo Fretellus de Nazareth et sa description de la Terre Sainte, c. 28, ed. Petrus C. Boeren, Koninklijke Nederlandse Akademie van Wetenschappen, Afdeling Letterkunde, Verhandelingen, Nieuwe Reeks 105 (Amsterdam, 1980), p. 20. 16 “In Ydumeae finibus, secundo miliario a Iordane, fluvius Iacob, quo transvadato a Iacob cum a Mesopotamia rediret luctatus est cum angelo, qui de Iacob nomen ei mutavit in Israel.” John of Würzburg in Peregrinatores Tres: Saewulf, Iohannes Wirziburgensis, Theodericus, ed. Robert B. C. Huygens, CCCM 139 (Turnhout, 1994), pp. 103–4, lines 603–6, and see the editor’s remark on Iaboc/Iacob on p. 24. For Theodericus see ibid., p. 194, lines 1553–55: “In finibus Ydumeorum, secundo a Iordane miliario, torrens Iadach decurrit, quo transvadato Iacob cum a Mesopotamia rediret luctatus est cum angelo, qui de Iacob nomen ei mutavit in Israel.” 17 Mag. Thietmari Peregrinatio, ed. Johann C. M. Laurent (Hamburg, 1857), p. 7. 12

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he struggled with the angel”,18 was identified by him as being south of the city of Baniyas and as being the crossing site to “Idumea”.19 It is interesting to note therefore that though the Frankish sources accepted the essence of the Muslim traditions identifying Vadum Iacob with events in the life of Jacob, they created traditions of their own that associated the site with a biblical “frontier” or entrance to the country. The idea that the battle over Vadum Iacob was not simply a “frontier” struggle but also a battle over a sanctuary is evident from the Muslim descriptions of the victory over the Franks in 1179. The poet al-Nashu b. Nafadha, for example, stated clearly that “if their [the Frankish garrison of Bayt al-Ahzan] death had not been so near at hand, they would not have built their own ‘house of grief’ ”. Another poet, ‘Ali b. Muhammad al-Sa‘aati (the horloger) al-Dimashqi, advised the Franks to “evacuate the house of Jacob because Joseph is arriving”, and his verses hinted both at the disappearance of Joseph and at the name of the Muslim ruler (Yusuf Salah al-Din) and can be understood only in light of the biblical traditions concerning the site.20 Moreover, the destruction of the castle by Saladin resulted in the reconstruction by the sultan himself of the pilgrimage site that had existed there before.21 The Muslim shrine continued to attract pilgrims and to be associated with the grief of Jacob the Patriarch during the Mamluk period. Al-Qazwini states explicitly that during the thirteenth century the shrine continued to function as a centre of pilgrimage and referred to it as “the place where Jacob’s . . . house stood, and the pit of Joseph the Righteous is also there and people are going there and are blessed by these places of pilgrimage”.22 Sibt b. al-Jawzi even wrote that in Bayt al-Ahzan “there was a church which the Sultan [i.e. Saladin] converted into a mosque”.23 So far no remains of such a church were found and Sibt b. al-Jawzi’s fourteenth-century testimony is not supported. I believe that the place was abandoned and that the shrine ceased to function as a pilgrimage site only in the sixteenth century. Sources of that period no longer mention the name Qasir Ya‘qub (the castle of Jacob) or Bayt al-Ahzan. The

18

p. 6.

19

“In finibus Ydumee a Jordane ad duo miliaria est fluuius Jacob, ubi luctabatur cum Angelo.” Ibid.,

“Inde transiui super ripam maris Galilee usque ad Jordanem, ubi Jordanis, exiens de medio maris Galilee, diuidit Galileam et Ydumeam. ... Deinde transiens Jordanem ueni in Ydumeam.” Ibid., and later: “Que quondam dicta est Belinal a monte uicino Belinas, qui diuidit Ydumeam et Feniceam.” Ibid., p. 8. 20 Ibn al-Athir in RHC Or 4.1:639. 21 ‘Imad al-Din, p. 171. The pre- and post-siege shrines were probably destroyed in the earthquake that split the site on 20 May 1202. The epicentre of this earthquake was located in Vadum Iacob, which coincides with the active line of the Dead Sea Transform, a segment of the Syrian African Rift Valley: Ronnie Ellenblum, S. Marco, A. Agnon, T. Rockwell, Adrian Boas, “Crusader Castle Torn Apart by Earthquake at Dawn, 20 May, 1202”, Geology 26 (1998), 303–6. 22 Al-Qazwini, Athar al-bilad wa-akhbar al-‘ibad (Beirut, 1380/1960), p. 141. 23 Sibt b. al-Jawzi, Mraatu z-zaman fi ta’rikhu l-a‘yan, 2 vols (Hyderabad, 1370/1951), 1:353–54.

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assumption that the shrine was abandoned is further corroborated by the archaeological findings, which show that the shrine continued to exist until the early Ottoman period.24 The traditions relating to the Patriarch, however, were not forgotten and were transferred to other sites, such as the nearby bridge, which was known, at least from the thirteenth to the seventeenth centuries, as Jisr Ya‘qub (“Jacob’s Bridge”).25 During the fifteenth century another tradition emerged that introduced the daughters of the Patriarch Jacob as a part of the region’s traditions. These were associated with a burial cave near the castle of Safad named Magharat Banat Ya‘qub (The Cave of Jacob’s Daughters). An inscription (dated Rabi‘ I 815 = June 1412) found in the cave associates it with the story of Jacob and Joseph. According to Leo A. Mayer’s translation the cave was “the blessed place of pilgrimage over the cenotaph of our Lord the Messenger of Good Tidings who brought the shirt of Joseph the Righteous to his father Jacob”.26 We see clearly that the same traditions continued to be associated with eastern Galilee, but in different locations. During the seventeenth century, the traditions returned to Jacob’s Bridge, which was called alternatively the Bridge of Jacob’s Daughters. During the eighteenth century this name became current, and following the Survey of Western Palestine the form Jisr Banat Ya‘qub became the sole official name for the bridge. This migration of tradition has an interesting epilogue. At the end of the nineteenth century, a Jewish convert to Christianity by the name of B. Z. Friedmann spread a “folk-tale” related to him by a Maronite priest, Houri Jacob, that referred to the origin of the Cave of Jacob’s Daughters as well as of the Bridge of Jacob’s Daughters. Houri Jacob associated these names not with the biblical tradition but with a monastery of St James, which purportedly existed in Frankish Safed. One of the Frankish kings, claimed Houri Jacob, repaired the bridge and dedicated its toll to the monastery. For this reason, he maintained, the bridge was originally called Jisr Banat Ya‘qub. However, the nuns who occupied the monastery were slaughtered

24 See al-‘Umari, Masalik al-absar fi mamalik al-amsar, ed. Ahmad Zaki (Cairo, 1924), p. 218, lines 13–14, and Al-‘Uthmani, ed. Bernard Lewis, “An Arabic Account of the Province of Safed: I”, Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 15 (1953), 477–88, esp. p. 480. 25 For Jacob’s Bridge see Shams al-Din Abu ‘Abdallah Muhammad al-Dimashqi, Cosmographie, ed. M. A. F. Mehren (Saint Petersburg, 1866), p. 107, line 1; al-‘Umari, Masalik al-absar, p. 82; Al-Maqrizi, Kitab al-suluk li-ma‘rifat duwal al-muluk, ed. M. M. Ziyada, 12 vols (Cairo, 1934–73), 1:546 [s.a. 664/1266]; Bertrandon de la Broquière, Le Voyage d’Outremer, ed. Charles A. Schefer (Paris, 1892), p. 52; Pèlerinage du marchand Basile, ed. and trans. [Sofia] de Khitrowo, Itinéraires russes en Orient (Geneva, 1889), p. 248; Ibn Tagribirdi, Al-nujum al-zahira fi muluk Misr wal-Qahira, ed. William Popper, 7 vols (Berkeley, 1909–36), 4:575; Jean Chesneau, Le Voyage de Monsieur d’Aramon ambassadeur pour le Roy en Levant, ed. Charles Schefer (Paris, 1887), p. 113; J. Wild, Neue Reysbeschreibung eines gefangenen Christen ... insonderheit von der Türcken und Araber järlichen Walfahrt von Alcairo nach Mecha ... von der Statt Jerusalem ... von der Statt Constantinopel (Nürnberg, 1608), p. 319. 26 For the cave and the translation of the inscription found there see Leo A. Mayer, “Satura Epigraphica Arabica II, Safad”, Quarterly of the Department of Antiquities of Palestine 2 (1933), 127–31.

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during the Mamluk siege of Safed and were buried in the cave, hence the cave’s name.27 Yet Mayer has already shown that the name “Bridge of Jacob’s Daughters” appeared only in the seventeenth century, 500 years after the siege of Safed; neither is the story supported by any document hinting at the existence of such a monastery. The above outline exemplifies the mechanism of sanctification of a medieval site and the transfer of a sacred tradition across the frontier to a neighbouring rival religion. It also sheds new light on the whole idea of the struggle: was it simply a frontier struggle, or was it also an inter-religious contest over a sacred site? Whose frontier? The thirteenth-century Frankish chronicler Ernoul stated explicitly that the castle of Vadum Iacob (“le Wés Jacob”) was built in Muslim and not in Frankish territory. “The Templars of the land of Jerusalem”, he wrote, “came to the king and told him that they would build a castle in Muslim territory.”28 Ernoul’s testimony was confirmed by Abu Shama, who argued that the castle was built because the Franks wanted to weaken the most vulnerable part of the “Muslims’ thaghr” (usually interpreted as frontier) and make the river crossing more difficult.29 Both Abu Shama and Ernoul were convinced, therefore, that Bayt al-Ahzan formed a part of the Muslim thaghr and not of the Frankish one. It would seem that the Frankish king also shared this view, otherwise it would be difficult to explain his lack of enthusiasm for the building of a new castle on his own territory or his willingness to sign a humiliating truce that would prevent him from fortifying his own kingdom after his decisive victory over the Muslims at Montgisard a year earlier (November 1177) or to maintain it when the sultan was engaged elsewhere in battle at Baalbek.30 The word thaghr itself warrants fuller explanation. In certain cases even a place located hundreds of miles from an actual enemy was defined as a thaghr (frontier city). The city of Alexandria, for example, is so described in the documents of the Genizah even though it was far from any border.31 The earliest usage of the term thaghr referred, according to Brauer, both in the Near East and in al-Andalus, to regions facing the (Christian) enemy. The thaghr therefore is any vulnerable region that faces enemy territory and in which a special political and legal situation prevails.32 The situation in a thaghr is abnormal in that the central government 27 B. Z. Friedmann, “The Bridge and Cave of Benat Ya`kub”, Palestine Exploration Fund Quarterly Statement (1898), 29–30. 28 “vinrent li Templier en le tiere de Jherusalem au roi, et disent qu’il voloient fermer .I, castiel en tiere de Sarrasins, en .I. liu c’on apiele le ‘Wés Jacob,’ près d’une eve.” Ernoul, p. 52. 29 Abu Shama, p. 6. 30 Ibid., p. 8. 31 I. M. Lapidus, Middle Eastern Cities (Berkeley, 1969), p. 82. 32 R. W. Brauer, “Boundaries and Frontiers in Medieval Muslim Geography”, Transactions of the American Philosophical Society 85:6 (1995), 14–17.

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is usually not strong enough to impose safety and order. Thus a thaghr is the equivalent of a European march, or even the Roman limes, meaning a vaguely defined region with a special legal status that is usually retained even when the frontier itself is no longer a close reality.33 The term thaghr itself, like its European equivalents, refers to a complicated political reality rather than to a boundary line in the modern sense.34 The city of Baniyas was a typical frontier city and was admitted to be such by the Franks. According to William of Tyre, “Baniyas lay on the confines of the enemy’s country and very close to it, so that no one could approach or leave the city without danger unless in a strong company or by following secret ways.”35 In an appeal sent to the West in 1169 after the fall of Baniyas, the city was referred to as “the key and entrance and refuge for the whole country”.36 It is curious to note that the leaders of the Frankish kingdom, who appealed to the West, used the word porta to describe the city of Baniyas, for the Arabic word thaghr is probably derived from the Hebrew root sha‘ar, “gate”. Thus, while the city of Baniyas was considered during the 1160s the clavis et porta et defensaculum tocius terre Jherosolimitane, it was referred to by Muslim authors as a thaghr.37 The history of Vadum Iacob includes a unique episode that sheds light on the nature of the Frankish frontier. According to Ibn Abi Tayy, Saladin tried to buy the castle from the Knights Templar and negotiated possible terms.38 The Templars were willing to hand over the newly built castle if the Muslims would pay their expenses. The sultan, Ibn Abi Tayy goes on, offered them 60,000 dinars and was willing to raise his offer to 100,000 dinars, because “the Templars provided it generously with garrison, provision and arms of all kinds”. However, Taqi al-Din suggested using the money instead for the provision of a bigger Muslim army that would eventually destroy the place. Saladin became convinced and vowed that his men would destroy the castle once it was taken.39 These negotiations were hinted at once more after the castle’s destruction in August 1179. The Qadi al-Fadil told

33 For a detailed discussion see Ronnie Ellenblum, “Were There Borders and Border-Lines in the Middle Ages? The Example of the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem”, in Medieval Frontiers: Concepts and Practices, ed. Nora Berend and David Abulafia (Aldershot, 2002), pp. 105–19. 34 See M. Bonner, “The Naming of the Frontier: ‘Awasim, Thughur and the Arab Geographers”, Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 57 (1994), 17–24. 35 WT 18.12, pp. 826–27. 36 Cart Hosp no. 404, 1:279–80 (a. 1169). Matthew Paris says about the castle of Dover that it is “clavis ... Angliae”: Matthew Paris, Chronica Majora, 7 vols, ed. Henry R. Luard (London, 1872–84), 3:28. 37 For a reference to the Banyas as a thaghr, see for example, The Damascus Chronicle of the Crusades, Extracted and Translated from the Chronicle of Ibn al-Qalanisi, trans. H. A. R. Gibb (London, 1932), pp. 179–80, 260–61. 38 Abu Shama (quoting Ibn Abi Tayy), p. 6. For Ibn Abi Tayy see Claude Cahen, “Une chronique chiite au temps des croisades”, Comptes-rendus des séances de l’Académie des Inscriptions et BellesLettres (1935), pp. 258–69. 39 Abu Shama, pp. 6, 8.

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the caliph in Baghdad that the fortress was built of 20,000 stones each costing no less than 4 dinars.40 He therefore estimated the cost of the stones alone to be more than 80,000 dinars and the cost of the castle, including timber, cement, manpower and military forces, to be a great deal more. It seems that he was anxious to justify Saladin’s offer of so large an amount of money to the enemy for the castle. In any event these negotiations confirm my earlier observation (based on both Ernoul and Abu Shama) that Vadum Jacob was built on Muslim territory. The idea of selling a Frankish castle built on Frankish territory is illogical, especially after the Franks’ decisive victory of 1177 at Montgisard. The negotiations can be dated to the second half of April and the beginning of May 1179, after the departure of King Baldwin IV from the building site.41 The Knights Templar are mentioned as representatives of the Frankish side, whereas the king, who was present there until mid-April 1179, is not mentioned at all. The Muslim attacks on the castle began, according to Abu Shama, after the failure of the negotiations in the second half of May. The Muslim decision to take and destroy Vadum Iacob stands in contrast to their comparatively peaceful attitude toward the nearby castle of Hunin, which was built at about the same time. William of Tyre, the only author to refer to the contemporary construction at Hunin, says that in mid-April 1179, while the Franks were engaged in building Vadum Iacob, they carried their constable, Humphrey of Turon, wounded in a battle near the Baniyas, “to Castellum Novum which was still under construction”. The “New Castle” could not have been Vadum Iacob because William of Tyre always refers to it by its proper name. The castle that was ever after known as the New Castle or Castellum Novum or Château-neuf is also known by its Arabic name Hunin.42 Hunin is referred to by Ibn Jubayr in 1184 as a newly built castle.43 The location of Castellum Novum closely resembles that of Vadum Iacob: it was built atop a steeply sloping mountain, high above the Hulah Valley, dominating the principal Tyre–Tibnin–Damascus trade route. The other possible highway was the Via Maris, which crosses the Jordan at Vadum Iacob. Strategically the two castles are very similar, and it is evident that both were built at the same time. But whereas

40

Ibid., p. 13. Royal charters issued at Vadum Iacob confirm the estimated date of departure of the king: the last charter he issued there was sealed on 2 April 1179; by the end of April he and his men were already in Jerusalem. See RRH nos 562, 579 (8 Sept. 1178, 2 April 1179); Ibn al-Athir, pp. 635–36. 42 WT 21.26, p. 999. In his edition Huygens presents Castellum Novum as a proper name, not as an adjective. Hunin was the property of the wounded Humphrey, who was later buried in the church of Toron. It had already been destroyed by the Muslims in 1167: see Ibn al-Athir in RHC Or 4.1:551. For a different opinion see Barber, “Frontier Warfare”, p. 10: “William of Tyre says that the castle at Jacob’s Ford took six months to build, although it was apparently not finished in mid-April 1179, when the dying constable, Humphrey of Toron, was taken there.” 43 Ibn Jubayr, Rihla (Beirut, 1984), p. 273; English translation in R. J. C. Broadhurst, The Travels of Ibn Jubayr (London, 1952), pp. 314–16. 41

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Saladin invested time and money in efforts to buy or destroy Vadum Iacob, like “one effaces letters from a parchment”, the construction of the twin castle at Hunin seems to have passed unnoticed. I believe that the difference lay in the fact that while Hunin was considered a Frankish castle built on Frankish territory, Vadum Iacob was built on what had been a Muslim sacred site in Muslim territory. A frontier castle has to be built in a hurry According to William of Tyre, the construction of Vadum Iacob began when the king mobilized the army in October 1178 and was completed just six months later, in April 1179.44 William did not witness its completion, since he had left for Rome in October 1178, but other sources, both Muslim and Latin, describe the castle as already completed during the negotiations of April–May 1179.45 Our excavations have revealed, however, that the construction of the castle was not completed even at the time of its destruction in August 1179 and certainly not in April 1179. The builders did not even excavate the foundations for more than 75 per cent of the proposed castle, and an extensive part of it was left untouched. For example, the outer walls of a fortified Hellenistic palace were left as they were in the northern part of the castle, although the Frankish builders were well aware of its existence, leaving a narrow corridor between the palace and their own walls. It is possible that the Frankish builders planned to remove this structure at a later stage, or to use it as a podium for a future massive edifice; but they did not reach this stage, and the impressive ancient palace still occupies the highest point of the fortress. In another corner of the inner courtyard we excavated separate heaps of construction materials such as cut pebbles and loads of lime. Working tools such as spades, hoes, picks, a wheelbarrow, plastering spoon and scissors, were excavated throughout the site. One dramatic find demonstrates the concurrence of construction works and siege: a heap of lime with working tools embedded in it was covered with Muslim arrowheads, clearly demonstrating that the builders were interrupted by a sudden attack. In fact, we are fairly certain that only 15 per cent of the courtyard was completed and the rest was no more than a busy construction site when the castle was destroyed. I believe that the frontier location of Vadum Iacob might explain the apparent discrepancy between the historical texts that describe it as a complete and functioning entity, and the physical remains.

44 WT 21.25, p. 997. William was very likely aware of the preparations for building the castle. Note that he speaks about the completion of the wall within six months: “Porro collis erat ibi mediocriter eminens, ... murum mire spissitudinis in quadrum edificantes opere solidissimo ad convenientem altitudinem infra sex menses erexerunt.” Ibid. And again: “Salahadinus ... castrum nostrum, quod nuper Aprili proxime preterito fuerat consummatum, obsideret.” WT 21.29, p. 1003. 45 Abu Shama, p. 8.

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The construction of a castle on the enemy’s frontier was not equivalent to the construction of a similar castle well within one’s own territory. The proximity of Vadum Iacob to Damascus obliged the builders to prepare themselves for an imminent and sudden attack. The king was compelled to mobilize an army big enough to protect the artisans and workers and to maintain this army for the work’s duration. He was even obliged to winter there himself. Everything that would be needed had to be transported to the site, since there was no other Frankish centre in the vicinity to rely on for the recruitment of artisans or the supply of oxen, tools, grain, etc. Twenty years earlier, the Hospitallers had furnished a similar convoy for the rebuilding of Baniyas. Nur al-Din attacked and annihilated the convoy, and caused the Hospitallers to abandon their co-ownership of both Baniyas and Hunin, and to cancel their plans in the entire region. A similar convoy was organized to secure the construction of the castle of Safed in 1240. The bishop of Marseille described this convoy, saying that “an impressive body of knights, sergeants, crossbowmen and other armed men were chosen with many pack animals to carry arms, supplies and other necessary materials. Granaries, cellars, treasuries and other offices were generously and happily opened to make payments. A great number of workmen and slaves were sent there with the tools and materials they needed.”46 The mobilization of an army for so long a period added to the costs of construction. Moreover, the king was probably obliged to meet these costs from his own treasury, since the whole region was recognized as a Muslim frontier. Writing in 1265, Jean of Ibelin stated clearly that when vassals were obliged to go abroad “for the common interest of the kingdom”, the king had to provide for their living.47 Jean Richard maintains that the king had to compensate his vassals, not only abroad but even in cases of long service within the confines of the kingdom. Mayer, on the other hand, believes that the king compensated his vassals only on rare occasions and that campaigns on the eastern frontier were considered to be within the kingdom’s boundaries. According to him, the knights had to fend for themselves during such campaigns.48 In any event, it is clear that someone, be it the king or the 46

WT 18.12, pp. 826–27, says that the Hospitallers “assembled supplies of provisions and arms and ... a body of troops”. According to Ibn al-Qalanisi there were 700 knights, not including sergeants and Knights Templar, in the convoy: Ibn al-Qalanisi, pp. 330–31. For an earlier mobilization of a whole army for the construction of the castle of Shobak see WT 11.26, p. 535. For Safed see Robert B. C. Huygens, De constructione castri Saphet. Construction et fonctions d’un château fort franc en Terre Sainte, Koninklijke Nederlandse Akademie van Wetenschappen, Afdeling Letterkunde, Verhandelingen, Nieuwe Reeks 111 (Amsterdam, 1981), pp. 34–44, lines 117–21. 47 “Et celui ou ciaus que le seignor semont ou fait semondre so come il deit de l’une des treis dittes choses, et il aquiaut la semonce et vait ou servise dou siggnor le seignor li deit doner ces estouveirs souffisaument tant come il sera en cel servise.” “Livre de Jean d’Ibelin”, c. 217, in RHC Lois 1:347. 48 Jean Richard, The Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem, trans. Janet Shirley (Amsterdam, 1979), p. 91; Hans E. Mayer, “Le service militaire des vassaux à l’étranger et le financement des campagnes en Syrie du Nord et en Egypte au XIIe siècle”, in his Mélanges sur l’histoire du Royaume Latin de Jérusalem (Paris, 1984), pp. 93–161; Peter Edbury, “Feudal Obligations in the Latin East”, Byzantion 47 (1977), 328–56.

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vassals themselves, had to pay for such a long absence of knights and sergeants from home; it is equally evident that on a building mission such as this, the king could not offer an equivalent payment in kind (booty, or landed property) to compensate the vassals for their time and expenditure. The construction of a frontier castle was therefore much more expensive than one constructed within the kingdom itself, and the cost of maintaining the army had to be added to the cost of building materials and labour. It is obvious that the king (or his vassals) would be eager to complete the building mission in the shortest possible time without compromising the quality of the construction. Our excavations have revealed the solution devised to meet these conflicting needs – namely, to construct the castle in two or even three stages. The first stage was aimed at securing a defensible space. The mobilized army was responsible for protecting the artisans during this stage, although it is possible that a part of the army itself performed artisanal tasks. The mobilization remained in force until a garrison could provide for the security of the artisans – in other words, until a first outer wall was completed. This phase had to be short. The mobilized army could not wait there until the completion of the second outer wall, which had characterized Frankish castles since the late 1160s.49 When, within six months, the first outer wall encircled the place and could provide at least minimal security, the castle was declared completed; the king and the mobilized army could return home and the daily expenses were reduced. A garrison of the Knights Templar, to whom the king had granted the entire region, took responsibility for the safety of the artisans and builders and for the completion of the second and third stages.50 The second stage comprised the construction of the inner buildings of the castle and the third stage, which was never realized, would have been the construction of a second, concentric, outer wall. The builders of the second phase began from the southeast corner of the castle and moved northward. They first completed two essential installations: an oven and a cistern, both covered by the same high vault, the intention probably being to proceed northward; but the castle was then attacked and destroyed. The presence of a large army for such an extended period caused other problems as well. An idle and bored medieval army was dangerous not only to its enemies but also to the friendly neighbourhood. No doubt many of the troops were sent to accompany workers in the search for masonry, timber and clay. But during the winter months51 the king was obliged to look for suitable tasks, such as policing actions in the neighbourhood. One such action was an expedition to the region of Buqai’a (Bucael), about one and a half days’ ride from Vadum Jacob, to restore order in Upper Galilee and to rid the area of local freebooters who had taken control 49 Ronnie Ellenblum, “Three Generations of Frankish Castle-Building in the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem”, in Autour de la Première Croisade, ed. Michel Balard (Paris, 1996), pp. 517–51. 50 Ernoul, pp. 52–53. 51 The winter of 1178–79 was very dry: Abu Shama, p. 6.

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of the region. This expedition supplied the army with booty without exposing it to a direct and more dangerous encounter with the real enemy. A frontier castle has to be taken in a hurry The special conditions of the frontier affected not only the Franks but the Muslims as well. Saladin was reluctant to challenge the entire Frankish army, especially after his defeat in the battle of Montgisard in November 1177; he dared to attack only when the king and the army were no longer present. Accompanied by a representative of the caliph, Qadi al-Fadil, he visited the site during the negotiations for the purchase of the castle; together they reviewed the state of the work’s progress, weighing the alternatives of taking it by force or buying it. His first attack on the newly built castle started immediately after the failure of the negotiations on 16 May 1179 and lasted only for five days. William of Tyre believes that an arrow shot by a Frankish knight, Rainerius de Marun, which killed an important emir, was the reason for raising that first siege, but ‘Imad al-Din, Saladin’s secretary, maintains that the Muslims had to wait for reinforcements from Egypt.52 A siege terminated when the main army came to the rescue of the besieged garrison and siege warfare gave way to open-field battle. Saladin’s unwillingness to challenge the Frankish army in such an open-field battle limited the time at his disposal. His only options therefore were either to storm the castle or take it in a very short, very efficient siege. Given the distance of Vadum Iacob from the Frankish centres, the Frankish army needed about six days to mobilize, reach Tiberias and deploy from there in a battle array. After his fruitless five-day siege in May, Saladin realized he would not be able to complete the conquest before the arrival of Frankish reinforcements and therefore retreated. The decisive attack on the castle began on 19 Awal 575/24 August 1179, the Muslim forces being commanded by Saladin himself and his best emirs. On that date they pitched their tents alongside the castle on the eastern bank and spent the next day searching for foliage and timber to conceal the siege engines; they went as far as the outskirts of Safed, cutting down Frankish vineyards on their way.53 The Muslim army had brought artillery to ensure their victory, but time was of the essence; the Muslim engineers were therefore expected to assemble and position the engines under heavy bombardment and a hail of arrows from within the castle. 52 WT 21.26, pp. 999–1000, dates the attack to 27 May 1179; ‘Imad al-Din, p. 168, dates it eleven days earlier. 53 “We arrived at the crossing of Bayt al-Ahzan on Saturday [24 August], and the castle is built to the west of the river. We camped near the crossing; we pitched many tents on the hills ... We said: ‘It is a strong place, we should conceal the engines, we should search for timber and tools.’ The sultan rode to Safed the next day, which was Sunday, and the castle of Safed was held by the Templars who are the source of filth. He [Saladin] ordered to cut the vineyard [of Safed] and to use the vine-leaves for the hiding of our engines.” ‘Imad al-Din, pp. 170–71.

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One of the commanders of the Muslim army, ‘Izz al-Din Jawli al-Asadi, suggested that storming the Frankish al-bashura (i.e., burgus), which was attached to the main castle, instead of laying an organized machine-supported siege, would save time and effort.54 The attack was rendered successful by a young warrior dressed in a shabby shirt, holding a sword in one hand and a leather shield in the other, assailing the walls of the bashura without waiting for the help of his fellows.55 The Franks withdrew into the castle (hisn) itself, bolting the gates behind them and keeping watch from within. The Muslims occupied the bashura and transferred their forces into it, fighting on through the night, Saladin being in haste to complete the conquest before the anticipated arrival of Frankish reinforcements. And indeed, when it came to be known that Saladin had invested the place, the king called out the full strength of the realm and all the military forces “to Tiberias. There he convoked all the leading men of the realm with the intention of going to the aid of the besieged and forcing the enemy to raise the siege.”56 But the Franks, not trusting the fortifications of their own unfinished castle, locked themselves inside and set fire to the outer gates – either to gain time or to let their fellow knights in Tiberias know about their desperate situation.57 Realizing that it would be difficult to take the castle by assault, Saladin adopted a different strategy: tunnelling under the walls. Nor did he wait for sunrise. The sappers began work immediately and the tunnel was already completed by the morning of Tuesday, 27 August.58 Saladin had allotted a specific section to each of his leading emirs and urged them to start the assault and the tunnelling of the walls without delay. ‘Izz al-Din Faruh Shah was assigned the southern wall, accompanied by professional sappers. The sultan himself began the process in the north, while Nasir al-Din Muhammad Ibn Shirkuh was allotted the adjacent part of the western wall, according to Abu Shama. A section was also entrusted to Taqi al-Din. The result of the first attempts was, however, very poor. The tunnel was 30 feet deep but only 3 feet wide, while the width of the wall, according to ‘Imad al-Din, was 9 feet; and even though the timber supporting the tunnel was set on fire, the wall did not collapse. Saladin was in a hurry, and could not wait for the fire to be extinguished gradually. Already information had reached him concerning “a great gathering of the Franks in Tiberias”.59 He therefore promised a dinar for 54 Thus according to Ibn al-Athir in RHC Or 4:636; however, ‘Imad al-Din (pp. 169–69) notes that the hurling machines were assembled a day earlier, after the excursion to Safed. Evidently Saladin preferred to take at least part of the castle by storm and not to wait for the results of an organized attack, which could have taken much longer. 55 Ibn al-Athir, in RHC Or 4:637–38. 56 WT 21.29, p. 1003. 57 While archaeological evidence supports this description, the purpose in setting fire to the gates is not entirely clear. 58 The dates are somewhat confused in the Muslim descriptions of the siege. It seems that the sappers had started their digging already on the night between Sunday and Monday, and finished their work within 24 hours. 59 Abu Shama, p. 11.

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every skin-full of water poured onto the flames. Says ‘Imad al-Din: “I saw the men bringing skins full of water, and when the tunnel was flooded with water, the fire was extinguished and the sappers could renew their efforts.” On Wednesday the sappers dug a deeper and wider tunnel and once again lit a fire, with a large Frankish force already assembled in Tiberias. Finally, at sunrise on Thursday (Rabi’ I 575 /29 August 1179), the Muslim sappers, who had worked unceasingly for five days, succeeded in breaking through. The walls collapsed, to the wild applause of the Muslims. The Franks had erected a temporary timber wall in an attempt to gain time, but a strong wind fanned the flames, killing many of the Frankish warriors (during the excavations the body of at least one of the defenders was found in situ, opposite the breach). The Muslim sources describe in amazement how the commander of the castle jumped into the flames.60 The remaining Franks asked for aman (surrender terms), and from Tiberias the Frankish army witnessed their fortress ablaze and covered in thick smoke.61 The Muslim texts do not refer to Saladin’s response to the surrender request, but it seems that he refused to grant it. The Muslim armies entered the castle, killing many of the defenders and taking many others captives. The numbers are estimated by Muslim sources as being a total of 1,500 Franks, of whom 800 were killed and 700 – 80 of them knights – were taken captive. The defenders included many artisans: masons, carpenters, armourers, stone cutters (at least 100 of them being Muslim captives), and others.62 Saladin questioned many of them personally and executed Muslims who had converted to Christianity and archers who were responsible for many of the Muslim casualties. He took as booty the armour of about 1,000 knights and sergeants, 100,000 weapons and many animals, and the Frankish captives were marched to Damascus. The Muslim soldiers then destroyed the castle and threw the corpses of the defenders into a deep cistern. This last thoughtless act probably set off a plague that started within three days of the conquest, causing Saladin and his men to evacuate the site on their way to Damascus, where they arrived before 13 September 1179, only a fortnight after the castle’s conquest. Conclusion Vadum Iacob’s importance to the study of castle building and medieval frontiers is evident. It was the first Frankish castle to be taken by the Muslims after their defeat of 1177, and this victory marks the beginning of their offensive, which reached its apogee in the battle of Hattin of 1187. Descriptions of this first victory 60

p. 13. 61 62

For a description of the commander’s dramatic suicide see al-Qadi al-Fadil’s letter in Abu Shama, Ibid. Abu Shama speaks of 15 squadrons of 50 sergeants and servants and artisans of all kinds.

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are naturally very detailed, and they provide abundant information about the castle. We know more about the construction and siege of Vadum Iacob than about any other contemporary Frankish castle. In addition, the fact that the castle had not been completed when it was destroyed supplies us with rare first-hand information about both castle building and castle destruction. I have tried to show that the “frontier” was more an area with its own special rules, lying between the two realms of Jerusalem and Damascus, than something synonymous with a borderline, and that although the Muslims were the official owners of the region, they could not easily accomplish their own plans. But as I have also tried to show, neither were the Franks able to do whatever they wished in the area despite their military supremacy. They were forced to invest a huge amount of money in the construction and in the protection of the builders, and even showed a willingness to hand over one of their own castles to the Muslims for a sufficient sum of money, before being forced to abandon it altogether. The Muslims, on the other hand, could not have spent more than five or six days in a siege of a castle that was built on their own territory. I have, in addition, tried to show the vital role of non-military factors in deciding the fate of Frankish castles. That Vadum Iacob was built on the ruins of a Muslim sacred site greatly influenced Muslim attitudes and motivations. A similar castle built a few miles to the north of Vadum Iacob was left unmolested. These facts can be interpreted in non-military terms either as a Muslim acknowledgement of the Frankish ownership of the area of Hunin, or as Muslim outrage over the sacrilege done to their pilgrimage site. In any event, it is clear that even before the construction of the castle, Muslim traditions had migrated across the frontier and were embedded in Frankish sacred geography, even influencing the reading (and correction!) of the Bible itself to fit the newly imported traditions.

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Papal Policy and the Albigensian Crusades: Continuity or Change? Rebecca Rist Clare Hall, Cambridge University Honorius III has generally been regarded by historians as having contributed little that was new to the growth of the papacy in the thirteenth century as a temporal and political force. The nineteenth-century church historian Mann stated that “the pontificate of Honorius was literally an echo, a powerful echo indeed, but simply an echo, of that of his great predecessor”.1 Although in recent years this view has been somewhat modified, it has seldom been seriously examined. With respect to crusading the consensus among scholars has been that Honorius was deeply committed to the recovery of the Holy Land and to the plans for the Fifth Crusade which were initiated by his predecessor Innocent III and given universal backing in the West at the Fourth Lateran Council.2 It has been assumed that most of Honorius’s energy was devoted to continuing to support the grand visionary schemes of Innocent and trying to put them into practice. I would question whether Honorius was as committed to continuing unreservedly the crusading policies of his predecessor as has often been thought. This is a very large subject and in this paper I shall limit myself to considering the status afforded in the letters to the Albigensian crusades compared to the Fifth Crusade to the East. I hope to show that Honorius significantly modified his predecessor’s policy in making crusading to the south of France a particular concern while the Fifth Crusade was under way. I argue, therefore, that rather than continuity there is a change in papal crusading policy taking place. In April 1213 Innocent published his great general crusading letter Quia major promulgating the Fifth Crusade. This letter called for the Albigensian crusade (and also crusading in Spain) to be shut down in favour of the Fifth Crusade: “And for the same reason we cancel the remission of sins and the indulgences which were hitherto conceded by us for those setting out to Spain to fight against the Moors or to the south of France to fight against the heretics . . .” The grounds stated for this closure were that the business of combating heresy in the south of France had sufficiently prospered and there was therefore no longer an urgent need for crusading there.3 This was in line with a similar statement made by Innocent in an 1

Horace K. Mann, Lives of the Popes in the Middle Ages from 590 to 1304, 18 vols (London, 1902–32), 13:20. 2 James M. Powell, “Honorius III and the Leadership of the Crusade”, Catholic Historical Review 63 (1977), 521. 3 “Et propter eandem causam remissiones et indulgentias hactenus a nobis concessas procedentibus

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earlier letter, Cum iam captis, of January 1213 to Arnold Amalric (or Amaury), archbishop of Narbonne. The letter declared that the pope now wanted all energies to be concentrated on his proposed crusade to the East: “so that . . . in as much as we will be less occupied by other matters, we may exert ourselves the more effectually against the unbelief of the Saracen people . . .”4 It was also in tune with a later letter, Quod iuxta verbum, of September 1213 to the dean of Speyer which stated that the crusade to the Holy Land was of primary importance because it was of greater merit than crusading in the south of France: concerning those who, having taken up the sign of the Cross, have proposed to set out to the south of France against the heretics ... we give the advice that such men should be zealously persuaded to take on the labour of the journey to Jerusalem, since it is agreed that it is of greater merit: . ..5

It is difficult to conclude from this letter alone whether Innocent thought that the Holy Land crusade was of greater merit in absolute terms to crusading in the south of France, or whether he wished to indicate only that he believed it was at this time.6 What is clear is that Innocent was stating in these letters that the Fifth Crusade was his first priority. However, it is important to note that in Quia major Innocent also allowed that the indulgence should continue to be granted for crusading against heretics to those who were from the south of France: “We concede, however, that the remission of sins and the indulgences should remain for the people of the south of France ...”7 Such a concession seems to have been granted as a result of intense petitioning by French prelates and papal legates who earlier in the year had begged Innocent not to end the Albigensian crusade.8 In a letter, Etsi resecundae sint, of 18 January 1213 the pope had signalled that he wished for an end to all action in the south of France. He had urged the papal legates Arnold Amalric, Hugh, bishop of Riez, and Thedisius to call for a council to listen to Peter II of Aragon, who wished to make

in Yspaniam contra Mauros vel contra haereticos in Provinciam revocamus ...”, Quia major (19–29 April 1213), ed. Georgine Tangl, Studien zum Register Innocenz’ III (Weimar, 1929), p. 94. 4 “ut ... contra Saracenae gentis perfidiam tanto efficacius intendamus quanto minus erimus aliis occupati ...”, Cum iam captis (15 Jan. 1213), PL 216:745. 5 “de iis qui suscepto crucis signaculo proposuerunt contra haereticos in Provinciam proficisci ... respondemus ut tales ad assumendum itineris Hierosolymitani laborem sedulo inducantur, cum illum majoris meriti esse constet: ...”, Quod iuxta verbum (9 Sept. 1213), PL 216:905. 6 For the ongoing debate on the relative importance of different crusades see Norman J. Housley, The Later Crusades: From Lyons to Alcazar, 1274–1580 (Oxford, 1992), pp. 1–6. 7 “Concedimus tamen, ut huiusmodi remissiones et indulgentie apud Provinciales remaneant ...”, Quia major, p. 94. 8 Illustri et dilecto (18 Jan. 1213), PL 216:840; Sanctissimo in Christo (21 Jan. 1213), PL 216:836–39; Sanctissimo in Christo (end of Jan. 1213), PL 216:839; Sanctissimo in Christo (end of Jan. 1213), PL 216:843; Sanctissimo in Christo (end of Jan. 1213), PL 216:844; Sanctissimo patri (20 Feb. 1213), PL 216:835–36.

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proposals in favour of a peace settlement with Raymond VI of Toulouse.9 However, the harsh response of the Council of Lavaur to Peter’s petitions, rejecting his plans and refusing to lift the sentence of excommunication on Raymond, appears to have changed the pope’s mind. In May Innocent sent a letter to the king of Aragon stating that if the people of Toulouse persisted in disobedience and heresy he intended to renew his promise of the indulgence and to call forth a new force of crusaders: But we do not want to hide from your Excellency that if the Toulousans and the nobles often mentioned should still also think to persist in their error, through the renewal of indulgences we will enjoin crusaders and other faithful people to stir themselves up so that, rising up to extirpate such a pest and trusting to divine help ... they may go forward in the name of the Lord God of Hosts.10

Despite this warning, Peter of Aragon repudiated his ties of allegiance to Simon de Montfort, the crusade leader.11 On 12 September the king of Aragon’s forces met those of Simon de Montfort at the battle of Muret and Peter was killed. Innocent continued to work to eradicate heresy in the south of France. In 1214 the pope gave instructions to his newly appointed legate, Peter of Benevento, to incite crusaders and other Christian faithful through the grant of indulgences.12 A letter of April 1215 reminded Simon de Montfort that his activities against heretics in Languedoc would ensure the remission of his sins.13 These letters show that Innocent did not completely wash his hands of crusading in the south of France. However, after 1213 he did not issue another general call to the faithful in Europe to take part in a new Albigensian crusade. Simon de Montfort’s military successes in 1213 and 1214 and the settlement made at Lateran IV in November 1215, granting Simon the lands he had overrun in the south of France, ensured that the pope was able to continue to prioritize his plans for the Fifth Crusade. He was even personally involved in its preaching in Italy in the months before his death in July 1216.14 On a first examination of the letters of Honorius III they seem to suggest that he maintained a policy with regard to crusading which followed exactly that of his

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Etsi resecundae sint (18 Jan. 1213), PL 216:739–40. “Illud autem excellentiam tuam volumus non latere, quod si Tolosani ac nobiles saepedicti adhuc quoque in errore suo duxerint persistendum, nos per indulgentias innovatas crucesignatos et fideles alios praecipimus excitari ut ad extirpandam pestem huiusmodi divino freti auxilio insurgentes, ... in nomine Domini Sabaoth.” Is in cujus (21 May 1213), PL 216:851. 11 Peter of les Vaux-de-Cernay, Historia albigensis, ed. Pascal Guébin, Ernest Lyon (Paris, 1926–30), 2:106–9. 12 Etsi Tolosanorum excessus (25 Jan. 1214), Recueil des Historiens des Gaules et de la France, ed. Dom Bouquet (1871ff), 19:589–90. 13 Nobilitatem tuam (2 April 1215), Layettes du trésor des chartes, ed. Auguste François Teulet (Paris, 1863–66), 1:414–15. 14 Michele Maccarrone, “Studi zu Innocenzo III. Orvieto e la Predicazione della Crociata”, Italia Sacra 17 (1972), 3–163. 10

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predecessor. From the beginning of his pontificate in 1216 until the disastrous capitulation by the crusaders at Damietta in September 1221, Honorius issued letters that called on the Christian faithful to take part in the Fifth Crusade and supported its progress. He also seemed to follow Innocent in giving priority to the Fifth Crusade above other crusading enterprises. Thus in a letter of 1219 to Pelagius, his legate in Syria, the pope emphasized that he had not ordered anyone who had already taken a vow to crusade in the East to crusade in the south of France (or in Greece): “Certainly we have not directed any men who are signed with the Cross for the aid of the Holy Land to go to the south of France or to Greece; .. .”15 Furthermore, the letter stated that, although he encouraged the faithful who were not already crusaders to fight against Albigensian heretics, no crusader vowed to service in the Holy Land should commute his journey for another: but, since the Albigensian heretics, worse than the Saracens, rise up against the Church, ... through our letters we have encouraged the faithful who are not crusaders to go to its aid, having made it clear in these letters that no-one signed with the Cross to give help to the Holy Land should substitute his journey for another.16

This statement is also to be found in the pope’s correspondence to France. Letters of June 1221 to the archbishops of Sens and Rouen and their suffragans declared that no one who had vowed to go to the aid of the Holy Land should commute their vows into assisting the Albigensian crusades: “. .. we do not want for any reason the vows of those who are signed with the Cross for the aid of the Holy Land to be substituted”.17 Honorius also constantly emphasized in his correspondence that it was of the greatest importance to him that nothing should impede crusading to the East. Those who had taken vows to crusade there must fulfil them. For example, a letter of January 1218 stated that: “however we wish those signed with the Cross for the aid of the Holy Land itself to cross over the seas on the next passage, since we do not want that cause to be impeded in any way”.18 A similar statement was made in a general letter of the same date to the archbishops of Reims, Sens, Tours, Rouen, Lyon and Bordeaux, their suffragans, and abbots and other prelates of the Church: 15 “Sane in Provinciam aut in Graeciam nullos omnino pro subsidio Terrae Sanctae crucesignatos direximus; ...”, Litteris tuis (1 Oct. 1219), “Epistolae”, Opera Omnia, 5 vols ed. César Auguste Horoy (Paris, 1879–82), hereafter cited as Horoy, 3:300. 16 “sed, cum haeretici Albigenses adversus Ecclesiam deteriores insurgent Sarracenis, ... fideles non crucesignati ad succurendum per nostras litteras incitavimus, expresso in litteris ipsis, ut nullus crucesignatus ad Terrae Sanctae subsidium alio convertetur iter suum.”, Litteris tuis, col. 300. 17 “vota eorum, qui crucesignati sunt ad subsidium Terrae Sanctae, nolumus aliquatenus commutari.”, De prudentia et (3 June 1221), Horoy 3:839; see also a similar statement in Divinas recensentes (3 June 1221), Horoy 3:834. 18 “crucesignatos autem pro ipsius Terrae Sanctae subsidio volumus ad partes ultramarinas transire in instanti passagio, cum negotium illud nullatenus impediri velimus.”, Ea tibi libenter (3 Jan. 1218), Horoy 2:576.

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But you should prudently take care that you do not, on such a pretext, withdraw certain crusaders from aiding the Holy Land itself, since we do not want to impede in any way the business of the same Holy Land, to which we aspire with an ardent desire.19

In a letter to his legate Cardinal Bertrand of San Giovanni e Paulo, ordering him to put the lands of James I of Aragon under interdict, Honorius again emphasized the importance of the Fifth Crusade. He claimed that James and his nobles were not only hindering Simon de Montfort, who was campaigning on behalf of the Church in the south of France. They were also flouting the decrees of Lateran IV for peace in the Christian world and so preventing help reaching the Holy Land: and impeding, to the injury of the Crucified One, aid for the Holy Land, flouting the regulation of the General Council, which especially set forth a regulation for the help of the same Land, in order that peace, or at least truces, should be maintained throughout the whole Christian world for a period of four years . ..20

Such statements appear to point to a conscious decision by Honorius to continue to prioritize crusading to the East. Two further considerations also suggest such a conclusion. The first is that it was only after the collapse of the Fifth Crusade and the recapture by the Muslims of Damietta in September 1221 that the pope issued letters ordering a new tax of a twentieth to be levied on the clergy of the whole of France for crusades against heretics.21 The second is that, having received letters from the Emperor Frederick II assuring him that he was finally ready to embark on his long-promised crusading expedition to the East, in 1224 Honorius called on Louis VIII of France to come to terms with Raymond VII of Toulouse. The pope claimed that this was in order to facilitate the departure of crusaders to the Holy Land.22

19

“Provideatis autem prudenter, ne occasione hujusmodi crucesignatos aliquos ab ipsius Terrae Sanctae subsidio retrahetis, cum ejusdem Terrae Sanctae negotium, ad quod ardenti desiderio aspiramus, per hoc nolumus aliquatenus impedire.” Populus Israel a (3 Jan. 1218), Horoy 2:575. 20 “ac impedientes in injuriam Crucifixi subsidium Terrae Sanctae, contempta constitutione Concilii generalis, qua specialiter pro ejusdem Terrae succursu exstitit ordinatum, ut pax vel saltem treugae in toto orbe christiano per quadriennium servarentur ...”, Cum dilectus filius (23 Oct. 1217), Horoy 2:524–25. 21 Cum venerabiles fratres (15 Nov. 1221), Horoy 4:24–25; Tuae nobis fraternitatis (16 Dec. 1221), Horoy 4:51; Ad audientiam nostram (23 Dec. 1221), Regesta Honorii Papae III, ed. Petrus Pressutti (Rome, 1888–95), no. 3658; Cum auctoritate mandati (16 March 1222), Horoy 4:117–18; Cum quidam episcopi (13 May 1222), Horoy 4:143–49; Nosti, filii carissime (14 May 1222), Horoy 4:144–46; Sane significastis nobis (16 May 1222), Horoy 4:146–47; Non moveatur nostra (17 May 1222), Horoy 4:147–48; Licet tibi deferentes (17 May 1222), Horoy 4:148–49; Cum vicessima colligenda (19 May 1222), Horoy 4:154; Sollicite intendentes (11 Dec. 1223), Horoy 4:57; Sollicite intendentes (15 Dec. 1223), Horoy 4:488–89; Ex parte dilecti (4 May 1224), Horoy 4:617–18; Jean Charles Léonard Simonde de Sismondi, History of the Crusades against the Albigenses in the Thirteenth Century (London, 1826), pp. 87–89; Jonathan Sumption, The Albigensian Crusade (London and Boston, 1978), pp. 206–8. 22 Petitionibus quas per (4 April 1224), Horoy 4:589–90; Horoy 4:593–97.

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However, a closer inspection of Honorius’s correspondence reveals that the pope’s attitude towards crusading was more complex than it at first appears. In a general letter to Philip Augustus and the French bishops of 1218, in response to their petitioning, Honorius ordered that, except for certain parties already involved in crusading to the East – namely those dioceses whose bishops were in the Holy Land, or whose bishops were about to set out to the Holy Land up to the next feast day of Saint John the Baptist, those bishops, nobles and others who were already signed with the cross and had been granted a special concession, or those who had already paid the twentieth to crusaders – half of the tax of the twentieth imposed on the Church for the Fifth Crusade should be used for crusading against Albigensian heretics: Therefore, choosing a middle course in this as it were sort of dispute, we have thought that provision should be made as follows ... All the rest of the twentieth of the mentioned kingdom which remains ... should be divided equally, with half destined for the aid of the Holy Land itself. The remainder, in accordance to your petition, should be expended on the aforementioned cause.23

The twentieth referred to was a tax which Innocent had ordered in Quia major was to be collected for the Fifth Crusade for three years and which had subsequently been formally decreed in the Ad Liberandam constitution of the Fourth Lateran Council.24 Honorius’s statement, therefore, had very serious implications. Not only was he allowing the transfer of part of a general tax for crusading to another theatre of war, he was also ordering it to be levied in France, the country from which traditionally most crusaders for the Holy Land had come. Furthermore, the letter went on to decree that, since in the south of France few crusaders had taken vows for the East, in southern French dioceses not just half but the whole of the twentieth should be committed to the Albigensian crusades: With regard to these matters, because in the provinces of Arles, Vienne, Narbonne, Auch, Embrun and Aix-en-Provence few are signed with the Cross to aid the Holy Land, we assign the twentieth of these provinces in its entirety to the cause mentioned ... to be converted for the benefit of that cause.25

23

“In hac ergo quasi quadam concertatione viam mediam eligentes, sic duximus providendum, ut videlicet ... remanente tota alia vicesima dicti regni ... de caetero aequaliter dividatur, et mediate ad ipsius Terrae subsidium destinata, reliqua, iuxta petitionem tuam, in praedicto negotio expendatur ...”, Deo in cujus (5 Sept. 1218), Horoy 3:25–26; See Simonde de Sismondi, History of the Crusades against the Albigenses in the Thirteenth Century, p. 83; Austin P. Evans, “The Albigensian Crusade”, in Crusades, 2:314–15; Joseph Reese Strayer, The Albigensian Crusades (New York, 1971), p. 116. 24 Quia major, pp. 88–97; Ad Liberandam, Constitution 71 of Lateran IV, Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils, ed. Norman P. Tanner (London, 1990), 1:267–71. 25 “Ad haec, quia in Arelatensi, Viennensi, Narbonensi, Auxitanensi, Ebredunensi et Aquensi provinciis, pauci sunt crucesignati pro subsidio Terrae Sanctae, illarum vicesimam totaliter deputamus negotio memorato ... in ipsius utilitatem negotii convertendam.”, Deo in cujus, cols 26–27.

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A letter to the archbishops of Vienne and Arles confirmed this concession and voiced Honorius’s particular concern with the situation in the south of France: Although, therefore, a twentieth of goods belonging to the Church was deputed for a certain time as aid for the Holy Land, we, however, noting into what confusion the cause of peace and faith is relapsing in the regions of the south of France ... have taken care that the twentieth of your provinces be converted for the assistance of that cause . ..26

The beginnings of a reversal in the fortunes of the crusaders against heresy in late 1217 and early 1218 had convinced Honorius that they must be supported. Thus from early on in his pontificate Honorius was encouraging both crusades in the south of France and in the East. Furthermore, his transfer of a general tax for crusading from one theatre of war to another showed a deep commitment to crusading in the south of France. This is also apparent from the large number of letters sent out from the curia calling for aid for Simon de Montfort and after his death his son Amalric (or Amaury), against both Raymond VI and Raymond VII of Toulouse. It is further revealed in the frequent reissuing of the crusade indulgence for those who fought against heretics. Letters of 1218, following the death of Simon de Montfort on 25 June at the siege of Toulouse, made clear that what was being granted was the same plenary indulgence as that which had been laid down at Lateran IV and granted in letters of both Innocent III and Honorius himself for the Holy Land.27 Honorius also supported the founding of an order of dedicated fighters in the south of France to combat heretics on the model of the Knights Templar. In a letter of February 1221 from Carcassonne a certain Peter Savary proposed to the pope that a new order should take vows to aid Amalric de Montfort and his heirs and to seek out heretics and others who made war on the count.28 Honorius approved the idea and in June sent a letter to his new legate Romano, bishop of Porto, allowing him to establish the Order of the Holy Faith of Jesus Christ. The letter stated that the order was to fight against heretics in the south of France in the same way as the Knights Templar fought against Muslims in the East: “men who, just as the Templars fight against the Saracens in the Eastern regions, may thus in these parts strive 26 “Licet igitur vicesima eccleiasticorum proventuum certo tempore fuerit Terrae Sanctae subsidio deputata, nos tamen, attendentes in quam confusionem negotiom pacis et fidei circa Provinciae partes relabitur ... provinciarum vestrarum vicesimam in ejusdem negotium subventionem providimus convertendam ...”, Cum haereticos deteriores (5 Sept. 1218), Horoy 3:30. 27 Populus Israel a (11 August 1218), Horoy 3:10–12; Ad aures regias (×2) (12 August 1218), Horoy 3:14–15. 28 Alan J. Forey, The Military Orders from the Twelfth to the Early Fourteenth Centuries (Basingstoke and London, 1992), pp. 39–43; Alan J. Forey, “The Military Orders and Holy War against Christians in the Thirteenth Century”, Military Orders and Crusades (Aldershot, 1994), VII pp. 6–7; Gérard Gilles Meersseman, “Etudes sur les anciennes confrèries dominicains. IV. Les milices de JésusChrist”, Archivum fratrum praedicatorum 23 (1953), 285–89; Simonde de Sismondi, History of the Crusades against the Albigenses in the Thirteenth Century, p. 87.

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against heretical depravity for the cause of peace and faith, and for ecclesiastical liberty ...”29 It is clear that Honorius’s crusading policy was a complex one. Looking again at those letters I discussed earlier which seemed to give priority to the Fifth Crusade, it becomes clear that, although Honorius was careful to emphasize that those who were already crucesignati – in other words vowed in favour of the Holy Land – must go to the East, he was recommending that those who were not should take part in crusading in the south of France. I repeat the passage I have already quoted: But, since the Albigensian heretics, worse than the Saracens, rise up against the Church, . . . through our letters we have encouraged the faithful who are not crusaders to go to its aid, having made it clear in these letters, that no-one signed with the Cross to give help to the Holy Land should substitute his journey for another.30

Thus those who were not already vowed to go to the Holy Land were being actively encouraged to aid Simon de Montfort and take part in the Albigensian crusades: we ask and we exhort you in the Lord, enjoining it upon you for the remission of your sins, that by means of the men of your kingdom, who are not signed with the Cross for the aid of the Holy Land, you enable help to be brought vigorously and quickly to the aforementioned count ...31

How then should we interpret statements emphasizing that nothing must impede the Holy Land crusade? That Honorius thought it necessary to state how important the Fifth Crusade was to him, for example in his general letter to prelates in France in 1218 calling for action against the people of Toulouse, now suggests special pleading: But you should prudently take care that you do not, on such a pretext, withdraw certain crusaders from aiding the Holy Land itself, since we do not want to impede in any way the business of the same Holy Land, to which we aspire with an ardent desire.32

29 “qui, sicut Templarii contra Sarracenos pugnant in partibus Orientibus, ita in partibus illis decertent contra haereticam pravitatem pro pacis ac fidei negotio, et ecclesiastica libertate ...”, Quam quidam Christianae (7 June 1221), Horoy 3:844. 30 “sed, cum haeretici Albigenses adversus Ecclesiam deteriores insurgent Sarracenis ... fideles non crucesignati ad succurrendum per nostras litteras incitavimus, expresso in litteris ipsis, ut nullus crucesignatus ad Terrae Sanctae subsidium alio convertetur iter suum.” Litteris tuis, col. 300. 31 “rogamus et exhortamur in Domine in remissionem tibi peccatorum iniungentes, quatinus per homines regni tui, qui crucesignati non sunt ad subsidium Terrae Sanctae, dicto comiti facias viriliter ac celeriter subveniri; ...”, Ea tibi libenter, col. 576; See also the similar exhortations in Populus Israel a, (30 Dec. 1217), Horoy 3:568–69; Populus Israel a, cols 574–75. 32 “Provideatis autem prudenter, ne occasione hujusmodi crucesignatos aliquos ab ipsius Terrae Sanctae subsidio retrahetis, cum ejusdem Terrae Sanctae negotium, ad quod ardenti desiderio aspiramus, per hoc nolumus aliquatenus impedire.” Populus Israel a, col. 575; see also the similar statement in Ea tibi libenter, col. 576.

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Furthermore, the pope’s statement that James I of Aragon’s support of the House of Toulouse was preventing help being given to the Holy Land: “and impeding, to the injury of the Crucified One, aid for the Holy Land . . .”33 appears as little more than a justification for his allowing his legate to take action against the king and his nobles. James was only a boy at the time. Released in April 1214 from the hands of Simon de Montfort through the efforts of Innocent III, the king had been put under the protection of the Templars at Monzon. Honorius, therefore, must have known that in 1217 James was in no position to encourage his nobles to cause significant trouble for Simon de Montfort and his crusaders. The claim that aid to the Holy Land was being impeded was becoming a standard argument used by the papacy to justify calling for ‘internal’ crusades against non-Muslim enemies. Such statements point to the fact that Honorius, in promoting crusading in the south of France, knew that he was modifying his predecessor’s policy. It is difficult to determine whether Innocent III, had he lived to face the same political situation in the south of France as his successor, would have also modified his policy. On the one hand Innocent’s letters show that he had supported the Albigensian crusade with great vigour. On the other hand, as we have discussed, the letters also reveal that he was determined that the Fifth Crusade should be the focus of Christian Europe. Honorius, however, was desirous to cover his tracks by reaffirming his commitment to the Fifth Crusade. His statements also suggest that he was aware that his support for the Albigensian crusades would be likely to fuel criticism that the papacy was calling for men and money to annihilate fellow Occitanians while in Egypt crusaders were struggling against the odds in the Nile Delta.34 To conclude: Honorius’s letters were intended to convey to the faithful two messages: first, to indicate that, although the Fifth Crusade was a high priority for the papacy, it was no longer to be thought of as an exclusive one; second, that the pope was committed to promoting crusading in the south of France. Following his predecessor, Honorius’s grant of the crusading indulgence for the Albigensian crusades was still described in the letters as the same as that granted for the Holy Land.35 Crusading to the Holy Land continued, therefore, to be the standard or yardstick by which the Albigensian crusades were judged. Yet, although the letters continued to pay lip service to the idea that for the papacy the Holy Land crusade was at the top of a “crusading list”, Honorius showed a particular interest in the crusade against heresy.

33

“ac impedientes in injuriam Crucifixi subsidium Terrae Sanctae ...”, Cum dilectus filius, col. 524. Such criticism was later levelled at the papacy; See Audientiam nostram (23 Dec. 1221), Regesta Honorii Papae III, ed. Pressutti, no. 3658; Michael Costen, The Cathars and the Albigensian Crusade (Manchester, 1997), p. 150; Elizabeth Siberry, Criticism of Crusading (Oxford, 1985), pp. 162–65; Sumption, The Albigensian Crusade, p. 207. 35 For example, Ad aures regias, cols 14–15. 34

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Thus Honorius supported a much more ambitious and ambiguous policy with regard to crusading than he has usually been credited with. I would like to suggest that it is time that historians looked afresh at his policies and began to reassess his contribution to the power and prestige of the thirteenth-century papacy.

Pouvoir royal et patriarcat au temps de la Cinquième Croisade, à propos du rapport du patriarche Raoul Jean Richard Membre de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles Lettres, professeur émérite à l’Université de Dijon Le rapport envoyé par le patriarche de Jérusalem, à la demande du pape Innocent III, sur la situation et les forces des sultans contre lesquels le pape préparait une expédition, est un document dont on n’a guère tiré parti, en raison d’une erreur d’attribution, mais qui peut aussi apporter sa contribution à la connaissance de l’équilibre des pouvoirs dans le royaume de Jérusalem. Ce texte nous a été conservé par un grand nombre de manuscrits dont Röhricht avait dressé une liste, et en particulier grâce à son insertion dans des oeuvres parmi lesquelles il faut citer celles de Jacques de Vitry, Richard de San Germano, Aubri de Trois Fontaines, Roger de Wendover, Vincent de Beauvais, ainsi que, en traduction française, dans la continuation de Guillaume de Tyr dite du manuscrit de Rothelin.1 Suivant en cela les conclusions d’auteurs plus anciens, et notamment du comte Riant, Röhricht l’avait attribué au patriarche Aymar le Moine, qui occupa le siège de Jérusalem de 1192 à 1202.2 On sait que le pape Innocent III avait demandé au patriarche, à l’archidiacre de Lydda et aux maîtres du Temple et de l’Hôpital de l’informer de l’état de la Terre Sainte (De statu Terrae Sanctae) au moment où il préparait la Quatrième Croisade. En regardant notre texte comme la réponse à cette requête, Röhricht a été amené à le dater de novembre 1199.3 Mais, ailleurs, il a été amené à reconnaître dans les diverses versions du texte des éléments d’autres rapports émanant soit du successeur d’Aymar, Albert, qui aurait été pressenti par le pape à la veille du concile de Latran, soit du maître du Temple. En fait, il semble bien s’agir toujours du même texte, bien que le pape ait pu demander à plusieurs reprises des informations aux chrétiens d’Orient.4

1

Reinhold Röhricht, Bibliotheca geographica Palestinae (Berlin, 1890), p. 43–45. Paul Riant, De Haymaro monacho (Paris, 1865), p. 48–49, qui cite ce texte sous le titre Narratio patriarchae Hierosolymitani ad Innocentium III. 3 PL 214, col. 737 (analysé par Potthast, Regesta pontificum romanorum, 2:851, avec la mention sine signo chronologico). La réponse était censée avoir été reçue entre le 15 octobre 1199 et le 4 janvier 1200 (Potthast, 2:935). Sur la demande par le pape de rapports fréquents sur la Terre Sainte, cf. RRH, no 760, 762). 4 Reinhold Röhricht, Beiträge zur Geschichte der Kreuzzüge (Berlin, 1874–78), 2:232 et 258, n. 20. 2

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Le texte qui nous est fourni par Jacques de Vitry et Vincent de Beauvais, et par d’autres, réunit deux éléments que le même Röhricht, tout en les attribuant au même auteur qui est selon lui le patriarche Aymar, distingue l’un de l’autre en les appelant respectivement Relatio tripartita ad Innocentium III de viribus Agarenorum et De statu Terrae Sanctae. La Relatio tripartita est à proprement parler un rapport sur la situation politique du monde musulman, en fait de l’empire ayyubide, auquel le pape s’apprêtait à s’attaquer. Le De statu existe en plusieurs versions, dont un nombre appréciable ont été conservés indépendamment du premier texte. Celle qui a été publiée récemment par le P. de Sandoli d’après un manuscrit de Munich est de ce nombre; elle est particulièrement développée. Elle commence par Terra Iherosolymitana in centro mundi posita est et majori parte montuosa, ubere glebis fertilis; les autres versions retiennent en général l’affirmation de la position centrale de la Ville Sainte, mais sous des formes différentes. Cette version présente successivement les différentes confessions chrétiennes, la hiérarchie de l’Église latine avec les principales églises régulières, la liste des baronnies du royaume latin, les nations infidèles. Viennent ensuite la description rapide des Lieux Saints, Constantinople, les lacs de Palestine, les différents climats du monde, la mention des capitales du monde musulman, Bagdad, Ecbatane (Hamadan) et Alexandrie, enfin les différentes contrées avoisinant la Terre Sainte.5 Dans Jacques de Vitry, on passe de Jérusalem à Damas, à Sardenay, à la Phénicie et à la côte palestinienne, puis à l’Egypte.6 Chez Vincent de Beauvais, on commence par l’Egypte pour continuer par l’Arabie, la Phénicie, Damas, la Galilée, la Samarie, la Judée et Jérusalem; vient alors la liste des églises qui relèvent du patriarche de Jérusalem; enfin on arrive à Sardenay et aux Assassins.7 Vincent termine en affirmant que l’ensemble constitué par cette description géographique et par le rapport déjà évoqué représente le libellus ad papam. Il en est de même dans le manuscrit de Bruxelles dont Hopf a tiré le texte qu’il a édité en note à son édition de Robert de Clari (“et tout ce manda li patriaches à l’apostolle de Romme Innocent par ses lettres bien parlant”). Au contraire, Richard de San Germano achève le rapport sur la dynastie ayyubide par cette phrase: Hec, sanctissime pater, ita esse in veritate sciatis. Ce qui laisse entendre que, pour lui, c’est là que s’achevait le rapport envoyé au pape.8 5

“Aimaro il Monaco. Lo stato della Terra Santa”, Itinera Hierosolymitana crucesignatorum, 3, Tempore recuperationis Terme Sanctae. 1187–1244. Textus latinus cum versione italica, ed. Sabino de Sandoli (Jérusalem, 1983), p. 163–93. 6 Historia orientalis, dans Jacques de Bongars, Gesta Dei per Francos (Hanau, 1611), p. 1125–29, et aussi dans Edmond Martène et Ursmer Durand, Thesaurus novus anecdotorum, 5 vols (Paris, 1717), 3:266 et suivantes; ce texte constitue le début du livre III de l’Historia. Le P. de Sandoli édite également le texte de Jacques de Vitry (Itinera, 4:363–69), mais en ne donnant que de brefs extraits de la Relatio. 7 Vincentii Bellovacensis Speculum historiale (Douai, 1624), p. 1303–7. La première partie correspond aux chapitres 54–56 du livre XXXI; la seconde, aux chapitres 57–66. 8 Charles Hopf, Chroniques gréco-romanes inédites ou peu connues (Berlin, 1873), p. 29–34; Riccardus de Sancto Germano, Chronica regni Siciliae, ed. G. Pertz, MGH SS.19, p. 336–37. Aubri de Trois-Fontaines ne donne que la Relatio, qu’il parait attribuer à une autre source que Jacques de Vitry, et la termine abruptement: et de istis hucusque (MGH, Scriptores 26:908).

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Le De statu Terrae Sanctae, pour reprendre l’appellation que lui a donnée Röhricht, a donc été traité par les auteurs avec une grande liberté; ce qui empêche de tenter une reconstitution de I’histoire du texte. Nombre de ceux qui ont reproduit la Relatio tripartita n’ont pas cru devoir y joindre le De statu: tel Mathieu Paris ou Richard de San Germano. Ainsi y a-t-il quelque vraisemblance à penser que le De statu a été une de ces nombreuses “descriptions de la Terre Sainte” qui ont existé à cette époque, rédigée indépendamment du rapport concernant les princes ayyubides. En a-t-on adjoint une copie au texte de ce rapport, pour informer plus complètement la Papauté? La chose ne serait pas impossible (on constate que le “Rothelin”, qui ne reproduit pas le De statu, a introduit dans sa traduction du rapport en question un passage concernant les Assassins qui est emprunté au premier de ces textes).9 Il ne semble pas y avoir de raison, en tout état de cause, pour attribuer au patriarche Aymar le Moine la paternité de la description de la Terre Sainte. En ce qui concerne la Relatio tripartita, nos sources s’accordent sur les conditions dans lesquelles elle a été rédigée. C’est Jacques de Vitry qui nous informe ici le plus complètement. “Le pape Innocent III, de bonne mémoire”, écrit-il (et cette formule montre qu’il l’a fait à une date postérieure à la mort du pape), “voulant connaître les moeurs des Turcs et les forces des Sarrasins contre lesquels il s’apprêtait à lancer l’armée des Chrétiens pour leur faire la guerre, avait écrit au patriarche de Jérusalem, aux maîtres du Temple et de l’Hôpital pour que ceux-ci, après avoir fidèlement recherché la vérité, lui fassent savoir la situation de ceux-ci.” Et, “ces jours-ci (diebus istis)”, le patriarche et les deux maîtres avaient envoyé leur réponse par des navires revenant de Terre Sainte. Richard de San Germano précise qu’il s’agissait de navires vénitiens. Ces indications donnent déjà une première approximation concernant la date de la rédaction. Innocent III était mort le 16 juillet 1216; sa lettre était donc partie au plus tard pendant le printemps de cette année, par le “passage vernal”. Jacques de Vitry, devant regagner son évêché d’Acre, était déjà en Orient au mois de novembre; il avait dû avoir connaissance de ce document avant son départ, donc avant la fin de l’été. Une autre indication est donnée par la mention des trêves conclues entre le maître de Damas et les chrétiens de Jérusalem.10 Elles ne s’identifient pas avec celles qui avaient été conclues pour six ans entre al-‘Adil et le roi de Jérusalem en

9

RHC Oc 2:520–25. Qui modo in mense januario fecit treugas usque ad magnum passagium, selon Jacques de Vitry, ce qui laisse entendre que les trêves prendraient fin à l’arrivée d’une croisade, stipulation que l’on retrouve dans les trêves passées au temps du sultan Qalawûn. Vincent de Beauvais, qui écrit en 1248, transforme ainsi ce passage: Hic habebat treugas cum patriarcha et utroque Templi et Hospitalis magistris usque ad passagium quod fecit anno gratie 1217. 10

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1211; elles seraient intervenues en janvier 1216 et elles ne devaient prendre fin qu’à l’arrivée des croisés, en septembre 1217.11 Il faut donc attribuer la paternité de ce rapport, non pas à Aymar le Moine, mais au patriarche Raoul de Mérencourt, précédemment évêque de Sidon et chancelier du royaume, qui avait été élu en novembre 1215. C’est bien Innocent III qui l’avait demandé, mais postérieurement à la clôture du concile du Latran dont la croisade avait été un des principaux objectifs; mais c’est Honorius III qui l’avait reçu. Ceci n’empêche pas que d’autres rapports aient pu être établis précédemment (Innocent III avait souhaité être fréquemment informé de l’état de la Terre Sainte), mais celui-ci est le seul qui nous soit parvenu.12 La Relatio tripartita se présente essentiellement comme un tableau de l’empire des Ayyubides dans les dernières années du sultanat d’al-‘Adil, qui devait mourir, largement septuagénaire (il était né en 1145), bien que le rapport en question le dise quinquagénaire. Il est ici appelé Saphadinus ou Saffadinus, ce qui est la forme couramment utilisée par les Francs qui le désignaient parfois en employant un autre élément de sa titulature, le Hedel, son nom complet étant Saîf al-Dîn Abû Bakr Muhammad al-Malik al-‘Adil. Le texte rappelle qu’il était le frère de Saladin et qu’il avait éliminé tous ses neveux, soit en les faisant périr, soit en les déshéritant, à l’exception de celui qui régnait à Alep et qui est appelé ici Noradinus.13 Ce nom était en réalité celui d’al-Malik al-Afdhal Nûr al-Dîn ‘Ali, qui avait depuis longtemps laissé Alep à son frère al-Malik al-Zahir Ghâzi. Selon la version conservée par Vincent de Beauvais, il avait pu se maintenir au pouvoir grâce à l’appui du sultan seljuqide de Konya et aussi du khalife de Bagdad. Les autres versions n’y font pas allusion et ne parlent du khalife que plus loin. Al-‘Adil avait, nous dit-on, quinze fils dont sept sont nommément désignés avec l’indication de l’apanage que leur père leur avait constitué. L’aîné est appelé Melealim (Melehatinus, Meffadinus), nom que Richard de San Germano donne sous une forme plus proche de celle du nom arabe, Meikekemme, c’est-à-dire

11 Richard de San Germano introduit son extrait sous la date de 1214, parce qu’il le donne à la suite de la lettre d’Innocent III à al-‘Adil, du 26 avril 1213; Vincent, à la suite de ses chapitres empruntés à Simon de Saint-Quentin sur l’histoire des Turcs, des Sarrasins et des sultans (libet hec pauca breviter inferre de situ terrarum ac civitatum illorum et prius de potestate sultanorum); Richard de Wendover le donne à propos de la mort de Saladin. 12 RRH, no 864. Cf. aussi Röhricht, Beiträge, 1:56, n. 26. 13 Aubri de Trois-Fontaines l’appelle Sanguinus, sans doute par suite d’une confusion avec l’atabeg Nûr al-Dîn, fils de Zengî, que les Francs appellaient de ce nom. Les noms de ces deux princes étaient connus des Francs d’Orient sous les formes “Seiffedin, sire de Babiloine, qui puis fu nommé Melec el Hadele”, et “Norredin Emir Haly, [qui] par le roiaume de Domas se nomoit Melec el Afdal”: La continuation de Guillaume de Tyr (1184–1197), ed. Margaret Ruth Morgan (Paris, 1982), p. 173–74. Cf. Anne-Marie Eddé, La principauté ayyoubide d’Alep (579/1183–658/1260) (Stuttgart, 1999), p. 48–77.

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al-Malik al-Kamil Nasir al-Dîn Muhammad, futur sultan d’Egypte.14 Son frère, qui gouvernait Damas et, avec Jérusalem, les terres conquises sur les Francs, al-Malik al-Mu‘azzam Siraf al-Dîn Isâ, est ici désigné par le nom que lui donnent toujours les Francs de Terre Sainte, Coradinus, appellation dont on connaît mal l’origine.15 Le troisième fils est donné comme seigneur de la Chamelle, c’est-à-dire de Homs (Aubri précise “qui est entre Tripoli, Laodicée et Antioche”), et on l’appelle Melkefays (Melchiphas, Helchefais, Meschipes). Il semble bien s’agir d’al-Malik al-Fa’iz Ibrahîm, mais son père lui avait donné Qûs, en Haute-Egypte, et non Homs, qui était aux mains de la dynastie issue de Shirkûh, oncle de Saladin.16 Le quatrième nom paraît bien transcrire celui d’al-Malik al-Mu‘azzam, qui est rendu par les formes Melicmoden, Mehemoden, Melkemodan.17 On lui attribue le “royaume d’Asie” (terram Asie, regnum Asye, regnum Doasie, reiaume d’Ayse); cependant Aubri ajoute: tenet Hamam et terram versus Mesopotamiam. Or Hama n’était pas non plus en possession des fils d’al-‘Adil, mais de son petit-neveu al-Mansûr Muhammad. Le “royaume” dont il s’agit correspond apparemment à la région d’Edesse et Harran, le Diyar Mudar, laquelle avait été attribuée par al-‘Adil à un autre de ses fils, al-Ashraf. L’auteur aurait continué à considérer ce territoire comme constituant une principauté individualisée, alors que depuis 1210, date de la mort d’un autre des fils d’al-‘Adil, al-Awhad, il avait été réuni à la dotation de ce dernier, au profit d’al-Ashraf. Et, comme il n’avait pas identifié le “Coradin” qui régnait à Damas à al-Mu‘azzam, dont il connaissait sans doute le nom par une source différente, c’est à ce dernier qu’il aurait attribué la possession de ce “royaurme”. Qui, à cette date, était en possession d’al-Malik al-Ashraf Muzaffar al-Dîn Mûsa, dont le nom est transcrit ici Melchinisaphat, Melchisamephat, Melkasataphat, Methisemaphat. Le royaume qui lui est attribué dans notre texte, et qui aurait été jusqu’en 1210 la part d’al-Awhad, est appelé le regnum de Sarco, ubi Cain occidit Abel. Ce serait le pays de Khilat et de Maiyafariqin, sur le Haut-Euphrate, la plus orientale des possessions ayyubides: nous sommes tentés de reconnaître sous ce vocable la “terre du Levant” dont, selon l’Estoire d’Eracles, il était le détenteur,

14

Nommé par l’Estoire d’Eracles “Melic el Quernel” ou “Il Quemerz Melealin” (RHC Oc 2:329). L’hypothèse de Reinaud, selon laquelle le nom de Coradinus aurait été formé sur le laqab du prince, Siraf al-Dîn, reste douteuse. Al-Mu‘azzam est déjà appelé, dans l’Estoire d’Eracles, à propos d’évènements de 1203, “li Coradins, qui tel et de put aire estoit” (RHC Oc 2:261); on lit ailleurs: “le Hedel et son fils le Coradin” (p. 323). Les Estoires d’Outremer, texte romancé, font de “Licoredix” un roi de Damas, mais qui aurait été fils de Saladin. 16 Cf. al-Makin ibn al-Amid, Chronique des Ayyoubides, trad. A.-M. Eddé et Fr. Micheau (Paris, 1994), p. 27–28. Al-Fa’iz avait été actif en 1201 dans la région d’Alep. On pourrait ausi penser à al-Malik al-Hafiz, qui régna à Qal’at Jabar, sur l’Euphrate, mais la forme du nom parait plus éloignée. Jacques de Vitry traduit ainsi le nom de ce prince: Meliphas, id est grandis. 17 Jacques de Vitry donne ici la forme Melchinesaphat, id est magnus dominus; sans doute y a-t-il confusion avec le nom du prince suivant. La forme Melicmodan correspond bien à al-Mu‘azzam: à propos d’évènements de 1218–20, l’Estoire d’Eracles cite “li Coradins que l’en clamoit Mehadan” (RHC Oc 2:331). 15

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Sarco étant une transcription de l’arabe al-Sharq (l’Est).18 Aubri y ajoute la cité de Malbers, qui serait Baalbek.19 La carte des principautés ayyubides constituant l’ancien empire de Saladin est donc reconnaissable, en dépit de quelques erreurs, et les noms de leurs gouvernants ne sont pas ignorés. Mais la suite pose quelques problèmes. A commencer par le sixième fils d’al-‘Adil, qu’on appelle Melchineor, Melchinesech, Meltinoch, Machomet, et qui aurait régné sur Baldach, autrement dit Bagdad, ce qui ne correspond à aucune réalité en ce temps où le khalife al-Nasir s’efforçait de redonner vie à la souveraineté khalifale. Le texte sait cependant que cette ville est la résidence du khalife, qu’elle assimile au pape des chrétiens, et qu’il y a sa mahumeria (sa mosquée). Mais il ajoute que cette ville est le but du pèlerinage des Sarrasins, qui n’y parviennent qu’en traversant un grand désert: il confond visiblement Bagdad avec la Mecque. On notera qu’ici le texte du “Rothelin” se démarque nettement des autres. L’attribution de Bagdad à ce fils d’al-‘Adil est donnée sans autre précision, et c’est à la fin de la Relatio concernant les princes ayyubides qu’intervient tout un paragraphe consacré au khalife, à sa résidence à Bagdad, mais aussi à son pèlerinage à la Mecque, à la place de cette ville dans la dévotion des Musulmans, avec quelques précisions complémentaires. Reste à savoir si le rédacteur de cette continuation de Guillaume de Tyr a eu en main le texte original que les autres auraient abrégé, ou bien s’il a de lui-même, avec des informations plus sûres, corrigé ce texte. Des autres fils d’al-‘Adil, un seul est nommément désigné: c’est Salaphat ou Salaphas, lequel n’aurait pas eu de dotation territoriale, mais vivrait aux côtés de son père dont il porterait la bannière, chacun de ses frères lui assurant chaque année une rente en argent (1,000 besants) et deux chevaux. Les huit autres frères se seraient vu affecter des revenus provenant, pour quatre d’entre eux, des profits que l’on tire du Nil et de ses “travers” (40,000 besants par an); pour deux autres, de la garde du Saint-Sépulcre et des tributs versés par les pèlerins (20,000 ou 30,000 besants), pour les deux derniers, de ce que rapporte le pèlerinage de la Mecque (30,000 besants); ces derniers étant astreints à vivre dans la chasteté. Suit un portrait moral d’al-‘Adil, avec la description de sa manière d’apparaître en public et du cérémonial des audiences qu’il accorde aux envoyés des Vénitiens, des Génois, des Pisans et des princes chrétiens. Nous sommes informés de ses rapports avec ses fils qui lui versent chaque année des sommes en retour desquelles il leur renouvelle son investiture. Quelques indications sur sa vie conjugale, ses quinze femmes, la vie du harem et des réflexions sur les moeurs des Musulmans complètent le tableau.

18 Sur ces événements, cf. Chronique des Ayyoubides, p. 75–79. Dans l’Estoire d’Eracles (RHC Oc 2:331): “l’Eisseraf, qui estoit en la terre du Levant”. Le texte publié par Hopf donne “tote la terre de Gandrelée. Là fu mors Abel.” En ce qui concerne Hamam, il est difficile d’y voir Harran, et c’est sans doute bien Hama qu’Aubri a voulu évoquer. 19 Sur Malbec, cf. WT 21.6, p. 968.

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Celui-ci n’est pas noirci, mais s’efforce à l’objectivité. Il comporte, nous l’avons vu, des données fantaisistes mêlées à des informations exactes. Il suffit de comparer la liste des héritiers d’al-‘Adil et de leurs possessions, telle que l’a dressée al-Makin à la date de la mort du sultan, pour en relever les inexactitudes. Néammoins Honorius III pouvait se faire une idée de ce qu’était l’empire ayyubide et du régime de “fraternité” qui le régissait au temps d’al-‘Adil; encore la description des voyages du sultan, parcourant chaque année les états de ses fils, correspond-elle mal à la réalité. Mais la cohésion de l’empire ayyubide restait une réalité que la Cinquième Croisade allait affronter, et le rapport faisait état du grand nombre de cités et de châteaux de chaque territoire, et des armées innombrables que le sultan pouvait lever.20 On notera toutefois qu’aucun contact direct n’avait été pris avec les Ayyubides; les informations rapportées proviennent sans doute de sources telles que les dires des chrétiens orientaux et les propos des marchands qui visitaient les ports égyptiens, ainsi que des expériences vécues par les Francs d’Orient. Or, à la suite de la liste des princes ayyubides, figure un passage que nous empruntons ici à Richard de San Germano, mais qui se rencontre aussi dans la plupart des autres versions: Ceux-ci [“Saphadin” et ses fils] acceptent volontiers de rendre entre les mains du seigneur pape, à l’intention des chrétiens, la Terre Sainte qu’ils détiennent; et, pour assurer la sécurité de leurs autres territoires de la part du peuple chrétien, ils veulent bien acquitter chaque année un tribut convenu au patriarche de Jérusalem. Et ils donneront garantie à l’Église de Rome de ne plus inquiéter la Terre Sainte que Notre Seigneur Jésus-Christ a foulée de ses pieds.21

Et plus loin: “Mais lui et ses fils, en la manière susdite, veulent traiter de la paix avec l’Église de Rome.”22 Cette affirmation ainsi répétée est apparue comme mensongère aux historiens modernes (Röhricht emploie le mot de Lügen). On imagine mal les Ayyubides, au faîte de leur puissance, s’offrant à renoncer à ces conquêtes qui avaient fait la

20

James Powell, Anatomy of a crusade. 1213–1221 (Philadelphia, 1985), p. 19, s’est interrogé sur la qualité des informations dont disposait le pape avant la croisade, en remarquant qu’il avait “certainly ... a general knowledge of conditions among the Moslem leaders”. La Relatio fournit une réponse à cette question. 21 Volunt isti libenter reddere in manus domini pape Terram Sanctam, quam tenent, ad opus christianorum, et, ut certi sint et securi de alia terra a populo christiano, singulis annis volunt esse sub tributo patriarche Jherosolymitano et dabunt inde cautelam Romane ecclesie de non impedienda amplius Terre Sancta qua Dominus noster Jhesus Christus suis pedibus ambulavit. 22 In omnibus ipse cum filiis in predictum modum cum Romana ecclesia vult componere pacem. Variante chez Jacques de Vitry: vult obedire Apostolice sedi. Sur le jugement de Röhricht, cité ci-après, cf. Beiträge, 1:5 et n. 26.

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renommée de Saladin, voire à payer tribut pour ne plus être exposés à des attaques. Le “Rothelin” (qui prend son récit à partir de 1229) va cependant plus loin: Saphadin et tuit si fil voudrent rendre au patriarche de Jherusalern et au Crestien tote la terre que li Cristien tenoient au jour qu’il la perdirent et par desus lor donroient chascun an une grant somme d’avoir par itel covent que paiz fust a tous jours entr’elz et les Crestiens. Mais cele pais ne plot pas aus Crestiens; par ce si demoura, car li Crestien disoient que paiz ne feroient il mie as mescreanz, car ele seroit contre Deu et contre raison.

Il n’est pas inutile de se reporter à la lettre que le pape Innocent III avait adressée le 26 avril 1213 au sultan al-‘Adil, en lui demandant “de nous restituer cette terre, afin que l’occupation de celle-ci ne soit pas l’occasion de nouvelles effusions de sang humain”, arguant de ce que le sultan ne tirait de cette possession qu’un profit de vaine gloire, et laissant entrevoir qu’on pourrait ainsi établir entre Chrétiens et Musulmans les fondements d’une paix durable.23 Le pape, à vrai dire, ne se faisait pas d’illusion sur le succès de sa démarche. Mais celle-ci montre que l’idée d’une solution pacifique de la question de la Terre Sainte pouvait être envisagée, et que la perspective du “Rothelin” n’était pas unanimement partagée. Du côté musulman, al-‘Adil avait fait preuve de son intérêt pour le renouvellement des trêves qui permettaient la coexistence des Francs et des Musulmans; il avait sans doute gardé le souvenir de cette Troisième Croisade où l’effort de l’Occident avait finalement contraint Saladin à renoncer à son programme d’élimination de la présence franque. La Quatrième Croisade avait également inquiété le sultan, du fait qu’elle avait paru un moment devoir renforcer la puissance des Francs par les forces de l’empire byzantin. De là à envisager d’abandonner de gaîté de coeur la Terre Sainte à ceux-ci, il y avait évidemment loin; mais les Ayyubides allaient se prêter à des négociations dont la restitution totale ou partielle de la Terre Sainte aux Latins constituait un des éléments, qu’il s’agisse des tractations qui suivirent l’occupation de Damiette par les croisés de 1220, de l’entente de Frédéric II avec al-Kamil, des pourparlers entre Thibaud de Champagne, Richard de Cornouailles et les sultans, plus tard de Saint Louis avec les Mamelûks. Sans doute était-il impossible de prévoir ces développements ultérieurs; mais l’idée de parvenir à des résultats durables en combinant la pression militaire et les moyens diplomatiques a pu naître dans l’esprit du patriarche et des maîtres des Ordres, ou dans celui de leurs informateurs. Ce qui nous frappe, dans le passage que nous avons cité, c’est la place qui est faite au patriarche lui-même et à l’Église de Rome. C’est à cette dernière que le sultan demanderait des garanties pour la paix à conclure; c’est au patriarche que serait 23 PL 216, cols 830–32; traduction: Jean Richard, L’esprit de la croisade (Paris, 1969), p. 83–84. Ce texte est cité par Richard de San Germano.

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versé un tribut. C’est à l’une et à l’autre que la Terre Sainte serait remise. En tout celà, point n’est question du roi de Jérusalem. Certes, celui-ci n’avait pas été associé à la rédaction du rapport, lequel est l’oeuvre des seules autorités ecclésiastiques. Mais celles-ci ne lui réservent pas de place dans le plan qu’elles élaborent. Quelque treize ans plus tard, Frédéric II passait avec le sultan d’Egypte le traité de Jaffa. Les circonstances de sa croisade avaient fait qu’il était alors en froid avec le pape comme avec le patriarche, qui n’avaient pas été associés à la conclusion de ce traité. Mais, lorsque le patriarche Géraud de Lausanne a eu connaissance du texte de cet accord (que Frédéric ne lui avait même pas communiqué), il s’offusqua et le commentaire qu’il envoya au pape est éloquent. Le premier article du traité spécifiait que le sultan remettrait Jérusalem à l’empereur et à ses baillis pour en disposer à leur guise. Le patriarche s’exclame: “On ne parle que de l’empereur et de ses baillis, sans qu’il soit fait mention de l’Église ou de la chrétienté ou des pèlerins.”24 Quand prit fin la querelle entre le pape et l’empereur, Grégoire IX devait contraindre Géraud à reconnaître les droits de Frédéric. Mais la position adoptée par le patriarche nous rappelle les prétentions affichées par Raoul de Mérencourt. Géraud de Lausanne ne se réfère pas, en effet, à la seigneurie temporelle dont les patriarches avaient joui au 12e siècle sur leur quartier de Jérusalem, sur leurs tenures, leurs casaux et leurs fiefs.25 On rappellera ici ce que Sylvia Schein, traitant à la vérité surtout de l’époque postérieure au règne de Frédéric II, quand la royauté contestée et la Terre Sainte elle-même sont désormais dans la dépendance du SaintSiège et du patriarche, qui est depuis le 22 mai 1223 légat-né du Siège apostolique non seulement dans la province ecclésiastique de Jérusalem, mais dans l’armée de la croisade qui serait amenée à opérer dans cette province.26 Les patriarches, reconnus comme “seignors espirituels” du royaume, sont de plus en plus en même temps “seignors temporels”.27 C’est-à-dire qu’ils exercent une autorité qui, du fait qu’ils sont les intermédiaires naturels entre la Papauté et les Francs d’Orient, est pratiquement reconnue par les rois ou les “seigneurs du royaume” comme par les barons et les prélats, lorsqu’il s’agit de la défense des terres franques et, par voie

24

Karl Rodenberg, MGH Epistolae saeculi XIII e regestis pontificum romanormn selectae, vol. 1 (Berlin, 1889), p. 296–98. Nous adoptons ici la traduction de Joseph Michaud, Histoire des croisades (Paris, 1854, 7e édition), p. 434, en substituant “baillis” à “préfets”. 25 Sur cette situation, cf. Joshua Prawer, “The patriarch’s lordship in Jerusalem”, in Crusader Institutions (Oxford, 1980), p. 296–314. 26 Rodenberg, Epistolae, 1:157. Grégoire IX le menaça de le priver de cette légation, en 1232, mais finit par la lui confirmer: Jean Richard, Le royaume latin de Jérusalem (Paris, 1953), p. 212; traduction anglaise par Janet Shirley (Amsterdam, 1979), 2:316; Rodenberg, Epistolae, p. 376, 379, 383; Gestes des Chiprois, ed. Gaston Raynaud (Genève, 1887), 204, p. 112. 27 Sylvia Schein, “The patriarchs of Jerusalem in the late thirteenth century: seignors espirituelles et temporelles?”, in Outremer, p. 296–305; cf. aussi Pierre-Vincent Claverie, “Un aspect méconnu du pontificat de Grégoire X. Les débuts de sa politique orientale (1271–1273)”, Byzantion 68 (1998), 281–310.

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de conséquence, des rapports pacifiques ou belliqueux à entretenir avec les voisins musulmans. Cette autorité n’était pas entièrement chose nouvelle. Si les prétentions de Daimbert de Pise à la souveraineté temporelle sur la Ville Sainte étaient tombées dans l’oubli,28 les rois de Jérusalem avaient-ils oublié qu’ils étaient les héritiers de l’“avoué du Saint-Sépulcre” (ce titre, on le sait, n’ayant pas été en réalité celui de Godefroy de Bouillon, mais traduisant sa situation à l’égard de l’Eglise de Jérusalem)? M. Ligato a relevé l’emploi par Baudouin Ier du terme de vexillifer du Saint-Sépulcre, ce qui nous rappelle que le roi de France lui-même se comportait comme l’avoué de Saint-Denis quand il prenait l’oriflamme.29 Et quand il prête serment aux mains du patriarche, le jour de son couronnement, Aimery de Lusignan s’engage à être fidelis adjutor et defensor du patriarche, en même temps qu’il promet de protéger les biens et droits des églises comme tout souverain chrétien devait le faire.30 Le roi n’est pas pour autant dans la situation d’un vassal à l’égard du patriarche, mais il a envers celui-ci des devoirs et une exigence de déférence particuliers. Au temps de Jean de Brienne, la situation ne s’est-elle pas modifiée? Sans doute Raoul de Mérencourt lui-même a-t-il dû son élection au patriarcat à ce qu’il était chancelier du royaume;31 mais il est le dernier patriarche à ne pas avoir été désigné par le pape. Et surtout le royaume de Jérusalem se trouve désormais étroitement dépendant de la Papauté. Ceci parce que l’Eglise assume des responsabilités nouvelles, qui se sont dégagées à partir de la Quatrième Croisade. Et nous pensons en particulier au plan financier.32 C’est en effet Innocent III qui a imaginé, lors de la préparation de celle-ci, de demander aux prélats de financer sur leurs revenus l’envoi de contingents de combattants. Evêques et abbés du royaume de France avaient préféré à cette formule la levée d’une contribution proportionnelle à ces revenus. Le quarantième ainsi institué pour la Quatrième Croisade s’était transformé en vingtième lors du concile de 1215. En 1203, les sommes ainsi recueillies avaient été directement transférées en Terre Sainte, où elles avaient été utilisées pour relever les fortifications détruites

28 Michael Matzke, Daibert von Pisa (Sigmaringen, 1998), p. 156–78; Bernard Hamilton, The Latin Church in the Crusader States. The Secular Church (London, 1980), p. 52–56. 29 Giuseppe Ligato, “Baldovino 1, re di Gerusalemme, Domini Sepulcri vexillifer”, in Militia Sancti Sepulcri. Idea e istituzioni. Atti del colloquio internazionale, ed. Kaspar Elm et C. D. Fonseca (Città del Vaticano, 1998), p. 361–80. 30 Cart St Sép, no 172. 31 Hamilton, Latin Church, p. 253; Hans E. Mayer, Die Kanzlei des Königreichs Jerusalem, MGH, Schriften 40 (Hanover, 1996), 1:311. 32 Jean Richard, “Le financement des croisades”, in Pouvoir et Gestion. 29–30 novembre 1996 (Toulouse, 1997), p. 67–70.

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par le séisme de 1202.33 Mais désormais, elles étaient soit versées directement aux barons ou souverains qui prenaient la croix, soit confiées au légat qui accompagnait la croisade. Si le cardinal Pélage a pu prendre une part prépondérante dans la direction de la Cinquième Croisade, n’est-ce pas parce que c’est lui qui disposait des ressources financières dont dépendaient la vie de l’armée et la conduite des opérations? Nous avons la chance de posséder des lettres du pape Honorius III à son légat récapitulant les sommes qui avaient été mises à la disposition de ce dernier, qu’elles provinssent du vingtième, des rachats de voeux ou du trésor pontifical: il s’agissait de plus de 200,000 onces d’or ou marcs d’argent.34 C’est bien l’Eglise de Rome, par l’intermédiaire de ses légats, qui finançait l’expédition, et qui pourvoyait aussi aux autres nécessités de la Terre Sainte. Un souverain comme le pauvre Jean de Brienne, toujours endetté, était hors d’état de faire prévaloir ses points de vue: on avait pu le constater dans ses démêlés avec Pélage; mais les ecclésiastiques de haut rang s’en étaient certainement rendu compte. Ceci préfigure ce que sera la situation dans le royaume au temps de Jacques Pantaléon de Courpalay, qui allait passer du patriarcat au trône pontifical en 1260, et après lui. Le patriarche est désormais légat-né en Terre Sainte (bien que Grégoire IX eût un moment envisagé de retirer cette légation à Géraud de Lausanne lorsqu’il se réconcilia avec Frédéric); la Papauté lui adresse les sommes qu’elle lève en Occident à l’intention de la Syrie franque; elle le charge de recruter et de payer des mercenaires, et il apparaît comme ayant à diriger les troupes de croisés, eux-mêmes entretenus aux frais de l’Eglise. La politique des établissements de Terre Sainte est alors subordonnée aux volontés des souverains de l’Occident, dont le pape apparaît en ce temps de la théocratie, et surtout sur ce terrain, comme le chef. Au temps de Jean de Brienne, quand Raoul de Mérencourt et les deux maîtres des Ordres rédigeaient leur rapport, la dépendance où se trouvaient les autorités civiles de l’Orient latin à l’égard de l’Eglise de Rome et de son représentant en Orient (qui n’était pas encore légat-né du Siège Apostolique) était certainement moins nettement définie. Mais sans doute sentait-on déjà qu’un nouveau rapport de forces avait modifié la réalité de l’équilibre des institutions. En tout cas le rapport de Raoul de Mérencourt nous oblige à nous poser cette question.

33 Ces sommes manquèrent par contre au financement de la 4ème croisade, ce qui contribua à provoquer son détournement; mais elles n’avaient précisément pas été spécifiquement levées pour la croisade elle-même. 34 Ce qui a été envoyé par ordre du pape à son légat ou à ceux qui étaient mandatés se monte à 126,813 onces d’or, 41,454 marcs d’argent, 11,888 livres d’argent, 123 marcs d’or, 25,642 marabotins et 754 milares almohades (“masmodines”), ces dernières sommes provenant d’Espagne, d’après une lettre du 24 juillet 1220 (Rodenberg, Epistolae, 1:89–91; Michaud, Histoire, 2:495–97). Les sommes levées en Lombardie et en Toscane l’année suivante par les soins du futur Grégoire IX n’ont pas été envoyées à Pélage, mais utilisées pour financer le départ de contigents tels que celui du marquis de Montferrat: Christiane Thouzellier, “La légation du cardinal Hugolin (1221). Un épisode de la 5e croisade”, dans Revue d’histoire ecclésiastique 45 (1950), 508–42; cf. Powell, Anatomy, p. 89–106, 165, 166.

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Hospitaller Birgu: 1530–1536 Anthony Luttrell Bath During its initial years on Malta the Order of Saint John faced the problems of establishing itself in the Grand Harbour on the narrow peninsula at Birgu (Fig. 1).1 Following their expulsion from Rhodes by the Ottomans in January 1523, the Hospitallers were demoralized by the final siege and the loss of their island, wearied by years of wandering through Italy, confronted with disestablishment in Protestant England and Germany, and burdened with the defence of Tripoli in North Africa. For some time they regarded their stay on Malta as a temporary one which they hoped would be followed by their return to Rhodes or some other part of Greece, and at first they made only limited efforts to fortify and embellish their Maltese base. None the less, these initial arrangements followed many standard practices which formed part of an extraordinary continuity of institutions and traditions which enabled the Hospital successfully to transfer its unique form of government, its “island order state”, from Rhodes to Malta.2 The maintenance of this organizational machinery was facilitated by the care the Hospitallers took to preserve their archives, significant fragments of which they saved when Rhodes surrendered. Three main series of pre-1523 registers, those containing magistral bulls, council records and proceedings of chapters-general, survived and were maintained throughout the decades after 1523. A good part of the business they recorded, especially that relating to promotions to commanderies and disputes between brethren, showed remarkably little change in their procedures and concerns. Much else was lost, including records produced on Malta in and after 1530, some of them possibly destroyed by fire.3

1 These fragmentary notes are not based on a complete search in Valletta, National Library of Malta, Archives of the Order of St John (hereafter cited as Malta, Cod.) or in any other archive. The standard studies are in Birgu: a Maltese Maritime City, ed. L. Bugeja et al., 2 vols (Malta, 1993), with early modern plans, excellent photos and extensive bibliography, and Stanley Fiorini, “The Rhodiot Community of Birgu, a Maltese City: 1530–c.1550”, Library of Mediterranean History 1 (1994); idem, “Birgu, 1530–1571: the Heyday of a Maltese Maritime City”, Journal of Mediterranean History 10 (2000). Stanley Fiorini, Mario Buhagiar, Keith Sciberras, Stephen Spiteri and Pamela Willis most kindly communicated indispensable information and advice; indeed all materials from the Notarial Archives in Valletta (NAV) were generously provided by Stanley Fiorini. 2 Anthony Luttrell, “Malta and Rhodes: Hospitallers and Islanders”, and other studies in Hospitaller Malta: Studies on Early Modern Malta and the Order of St. John of Jerusalem, ed. Victor Mallia-Milanes (Malta, 1993), with extremely detailed bibliography. 3 Anthony Luttrell, Latin Greece, the Hospitallers and the Crusades: 1291–1440 (London, 1982), III, pp. 65–67.

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Sketch plan of Birgu, 1530–36

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Many Hospitallers on Malta, and all seven Masters there down to 1572, had served on Rhodes and taken part in the final siege, from which they must have gained invaluable experience.4 Historically-minded brethren who witnessed the initial occupation of Birgu included the Master’s uditore, the learned Fr. Jean Quintin, who reached Malta as early as 5 April 1530 and finished his description of the island in January of either 1533 or 1534,5 and Fr. Giuseppe Cambiano, who composed his historical dialogue on the Order between 1553 and 15566 but was on Malta in 1532 and thereafter.7 Fr. Antoine Geoffroi, author of a scholarly work on the Ottomans, was on Malta in 1547. In 1555 he was appointed to write the Order’s history; he had collected materials both in the Vatican and in the chancery at Malta but he died in 1556.8 The Catalan Fr. Joan Antoni de Foja became Geoffroi’s successor and used his notes. He was on Malta in 1556 but his history, which reached 1565, was distinctly patchy; it was rightly considered unsatisfactory and remained in manuscript.9 The Order’s next official historian, Giacomo Bosio, published the third volume, covering the post-1523 period, of his history in 1602. Bosio, who was not a professed Hospitaller, lived in Rome where he could work in the Vatican archives and use numerous published sources. He knew many people and saw some of the writings of Geoffroi, of Cambiano, of Foja and of others, such as Fr. Raffaele Silvago and Fr. Nicolas de Blancheline, while his brother Fr. Giovanni Ottone Bosio became the Order’s vice-chancellor and sent him many transcripts, and possibly some originals, from the archives in Malta.10 Bosio presumably had papers and 4 G. Bosio, Dell’Istoria della Sacra Religione et Ill.ma Militia di San Giovanni Gerosolimitano, vol. 2 (2nd ed.: Rome, 1629), vol. 3 (Rome, 1602), 2:640–41, 645, 655, 665 (hereafter vol. 3 is cited as Bosio); the Master Fr. Pietrino del Ponte was actually captain on Kos in 1522. Fr. Pietro del Monte had been a page of the Master on Rhodes: F. Guelfi and C. Baldi, Ricerche Storico-Biografiche: Monte San Savino attraverso i Secoli (Siena, 1892), p. 103, without further sources; P. Messina, “Del Monte, Pietro”, Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani 38 (1990), pp. 146–48. 5 The Earliest Description of Malta (Lyons 1536) by Jean Quintin d’Autun, ed. and trans. H. Vella (Malta, 1980), correcting numerous errors; H. Vella, “The Report of the Knights of St. John’s 1524 Commission to Malta and Quintinus’ Insulae Melitae Descriptio”, Melita Historica 8, no. 4 (1983). The work was dated to January “M.D.XXXIII”, possibly 1534 if Quintin used the Incarnation dating of the Hospital’s chancery, of which he was regent in 1535. Luttrell, Latin Greece, III, p. 58, wrongly repeats that Quintin was part of the 1524 Hospitaller commission to Malta. 6 Luttrell, Latin Greece, III, pp. 59, 68–69, with partial text; partial text also in K. Shimizu, “Un curioso Dialogo sull’Ordine dei Cavalieri di Malta nel Cinquecento”, in Studies in Socio-Cultural Aspects of the Mediterranean Islands (Tokyo, 1979), but the dating to about 1560 (p. 71) seems incorrect. 7 Malta, Cod. 415, fol. 107v (1532); 85, fol. 124v (1534); 286, fol. 79 (1539); 86, fol. 116v (1542). 8 Luttrell, Latin Greece, III, pp. 58–60, 66–67; Geoffroi’s jottings (Biblioteca Vaticana, MS. Vat. Lat. 13,406) are identified in G. Morello, “Due Codici Vaticani inerenti alla Istoria di Giacomo Bosio”, Annales de l’Ordre Souverain Militaire de Malte 36 (1978); idem, Memorie Melitensi nelle Collezioni della Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana (Rome, 1987), p. 27, plate 22. The first 118 folios are missing. 9 Luttrell, Latin Greece, III, p. 60, also listing the manuscripts; only London, British Library, MS Egerton 1877, continues beyond 1523. 10 The sources for the 1524 report summarized in Bosio, p. 30, and for much else, are unknown. Bosio may have had access to materials through other writers’ notes rather than from the originals; however, his

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information from other members of his family. One uncle, Fr. Tomaso Bosio, had been vice-chancellor from 1527 to 1536 and was bishop of Malta thereafter, dying in 1539; another uncle, Fr. Antonio Bosio, played a leading part in the Order’s affairs from about 1522 until his death in 1530; and a third uncle, Giannotto Bosio, acted as the Master’s agent in the Roman curia until 1571.11 Giacomo Bosio apparently never visited Malta.12 Some years passed before he was commissioned with a salary as the Hospital’s historiographer in 1589, and though he had much access to oral sources in Rome and to various papers subsequently lost, he presumably had only rather vague notions as to exactly when a building had been begun or completed and who had designed it some seventy years earlier. Bosio’s history became an essential source for the Hospital’s first decade on Malta but some of his information was approximate rather than precise.13 Those Hospitallers who survived the final siege sailed from Rhodes in January 1523, some of their Greek and Latin subjects accompanying them while others followed later. Malta soon became a possible alternative to Rhodes and eight brethren inspected the island in 1524. They reported discouragingly on the inadequacies of the small castle in an exposed position in the grand harbour; it was said to be half-ruined from age but to have a good number of cisterns and some brackish wells. The castle contained the castellan’s house, which was not spacious but had a hall, and 40 casette or small houses, while its suburb of Birgu consisted

account of events after 1523 is often confirmed by documents in Malta and elsewhere: Luttrell, Latin Greece, III, pp. 62–67; A. Valeri, Cenni biografici di Antonio Bosio (Rome, 1900); G. de Caro, “Bosio, Giacomo”, Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani 13 (1974), pp. 261–64. The corrected autograph of part of vol. 2 is in Biblioteca Vaticana, MS Barb. Lat. 5078: Morello, “Due Codici Vaticani”, 28. On Bosio’s reliability, P. Falcone, “Il Valore documentario della Storia dell’Ordine Gerosolimitano”, Archivio Storica di Malta 10 (1939), correcting earlier errors; Luttrell, Latin Greece, V, pp. 134–44; Victor Mallia-Milanes, “The Siege of Cyprus in Bosio’s Istoria”, Archivum: the Journal of Maltese Historical Research 1 (1981). Documents sent from Malta to Bosio in Rome may survive in the Aldobrandini archives: Morello, “Due Codici Vaticani”, 6–9. Surprisingly, much of Bosio’s information on the post1530 period has so far escaped attention or analysis. 11 G. de Caro, “Bosio, Tomaso”, in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani 13 (1974), pp. 266–67; G. Morello, “Di una Istruzione del Gran Maestro Villiers de l’Isle-Adam”, Annales de l’Ordre Souverain Militaire de Malte 32 (1974), 67–68, 74–75; L. Schiavone, Pietrino del Ponte nella Storia dell’Ordine Gerosolimitano (Asti, 1995), ad indicem. 12 Falcone, “Il Valore documentario”, 101, Valeri, Cenni, p. 12, and others state that Bosio went to Malta in 1577, but de Caro, “Bosio”, p. 261, shows that he went to France. B. dal Pozzo, Historia della S. Religione Militare di S. Giovanni Gerosolimitano detta di Malta, 1 (Verona, 1703), p. 134, says that Bosio took papal letters for the French court to Malta whence they were sent to France; but that seems less likely. 13 Preliminary indications provided below as to when Bosio knew or may have known any particular text suggest that he was not always sure when a work was initiated or completed; it follows that some information derived from Bosio remains to a certain extent hypothetical. Dates derived from coats of arms affixed to buildings also require cautious interpretation.

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of “some sailors’ houses”.14 In 1533 or 1534 Fr. Jean Quintin, who made use of the 1524 report, described the borgo in 1530 as having been a wretched vicus or village with dwellings dug into the rock, its houses being like African huts; their walls were rotting and unfinished, they lacked proper foundations or boarded floors, and they had rough roofs covered with tiles or thatched reeds.15 Fr. Giuseppe Cambiano remembered that in 1530 the castle was very weak and that there were fewer than 150 houses in the borgo, which he said was almost uninhabited, and that the Hospitallers were at first compelled to live in the open – fare una residenza aperta – and to find rooms and to sleep, like gypsies, in churches and storerooms. He also reported that in 1530 there had been gardens and fields inside the new wall which was then built across the narrow neck of the peninsula to protect the borgo.16 The castle’s garrison had in 1501 supposedly totalled some fifty men, twenty of them foreigners; these, and others, dwelt within the castle. On the higher northern end of the castle plateau an inner enceinte enclosed the castellan’s house and a nearby church, with two rounded towers built of ashlar blocks defending the entrance on its western side facing what later became Senglea. On the southern landward side of the plateau was an outer enceinte, also with towers at least one of which was rounded, and another church, that of Sant’Angelo; its southern wall facing Birgu had a tall sloping talus. To the west of this outer enceinte was an L-shaped barbican defending a gate through which a road led upwards to the inner gate. A lower wall with two towers and an outer gate between them stretched along part of the western seashore, while to the south was an outermost wall with three more rounded towers protected by a shallow dry ditch, the tagliata. Within the castle were houses, storerooms, workshops, a tavern and a mill; there was also a small dockyard, probably somewhere close to the tagliata. Considerable maintenance work was carried out on this complex in the years following the report of 1524.17 The borgo was Malta’s main port and served as a base for traders, fishermen, pirates and foreigners. The suburb lacked walls and there were fields among the 14 The report is known through Bosio, pp. 30–31, and through Quintin: Vella, “The Report of the Knights”. A. Ganado, in Birgu, ed. Bugeja, p. 549, translates casette as “rooms” rather than “houses”; Stephen Spiteri, Fortresses of the Cross: Hospitaller Military Architecture (1136–1798) (Malta, 1994), p. 290, gives “alcuni pozzi salmastri” as “several rock hewn granaries”. 15 Quintin, The Earliest Description of Malta, pp. 28–31, but his classicizing Latin presents ambiguities; thus “village” is here preferred to the usually accepted “hamlet” for vicus, and “boarded floors” to “attics” for contignatione, though some kind of timber roofing may have been intended. 16 Cambiano, in “Un curioso Dialogo”, ed. Shimizu, p. 78; also, from a different MS, ed. A. Ganado, in Birgu, ed. Bugeja, pp. 588–89, where, however, “Camb.o:” should be placed before “L’Esperienza,” since the speech of Cambiano, an eye-witness of c. 1532, otherwise appears as that of his interlocutor Fr. Giustiniano Giustiniani; for “apposita?” read “aperta”. 17 G. Wettinger, in Birgu, ed. Bugeja, pp. 35–36, 45–47, 53–56, 59–61; S. Fiorini, in ibid., pp. 226–28, with the names of three towers; illustrated hypothetical reconstruction, using written and nonwritten evidence, in Spiteri, Fortresses of the Cross, pp. 290–99, and idem, Fortresses of the Knights (Malta, 2001), pp. 222–26 (superseding the reconstruction in Birgu, plate 14.2).

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houses, but it had a square, shops, storerooms, cisterns and a mill.18 There was some building activity with sales of plots of land and the leasing of public space by the sea on Kalkara Creek to the east in 1520. Regulations of 1518 sought to keep land free for a future road to lead inland from the church of San Lorenzo, and others of 1523 prohibited building by the shore unless space for a road was left between the new houses.19 The parish church of San Lorenzo with its cemetery stood by the sea to the west; the Dominicans held the Annunciation church; other churches within that limited area of Birgu were dedicated to the Virgin of Monserrat, to Saint Nicholas, to Saint Anthony and, in the cemetery of San Lorenzo, to Saint Catherine.20 In 1530 the population amounted to about five hundred, mainly fishermen and craftsmen, with some forty households in the castle and sixty in the suburb.21 The inland city at Mdina was healthier and more commodious; indeed the Master, Fr. Philippe Villiers de l’Isle Adam, began to construct a palace there in mid-1531.22 However, considerations of strategy, defence and communication made Birgu an inescapable choice, while the Master may also have been reluctant to put the Convent in the islanders’ power by establishing its seat at Mdina. In 1529 he had excused his failure to remain on Malta partly on such grounds: che non saria conveniente stare a discretione et mandamento di quelli delli quali speramo esser signore.23 Clement VII, who as Fr. Giulio de Medici had been the Hospitaller prior of Capua and who had been elected pope at a conclave of which the guardian was the Master l’Isle Adam, instructed all Hospitaller brethren, in letters dated 14 April 1529 and repeated on 9 May, to travel to Malta.24 The Master and Convent had reached the island by 23 August,25 but left again on 13 September, reaching Augusta in Sicily on 24 September and moving to Siracusa by 7 October 1529.26 In port at Malta the Master and Council had decided on 4 September to leave to winter in Sicily.27 On 1 October the Master wrote explaining to Clement VII that he had contravened papal instructions to remain on the island partly for lack of supplies, partly to be able to conduct negotiations more easily from Sicily, partly to avoid being at the mercy of the Maltese, and partly because of the great shortage of housing: essendoci grande incommodita di case.28 18 Wettinger, in Birgu, ed. Bugeja, pp. 54–55, 61–62; Fiorini, in ibid., pp. 226–28. Ibid., plates 2.6ab, show a possible pre-1530 building, but the ornate two-light window (plate 2.7) may well date after 1530. 19 Wettinger, in Birgu, ed. Bugeja, p. 61; and Fiorini, in ibid., p. 228. 20 Ibid., pp. 35, 55–58, 61, 228, 393–94, 420, 459–60, 666–69; see below, pp. 130–32. 21 Fiorini, in Birgu, ed. Bugeja, pp. 223–24; this does not match Cambiano’s estimate of 150 houses in the borgo in 1530, unless Cambiano tacitly included houses in the castle. 22 Bosio, p. 100; see below, p. 125, n. 45. 23 Text in Morello, “Di una Istruzione”, pp. 69–73. 24 Ibid., p. 75, n. 33. 25 Mario Buhagiar and Stanley Fiorini, Mdina: the Cathedral City of Malta, vol. 2 (Malta, 1996), p. 499; Bosio, p. 73, incorrectly gives 26 August. The visit of 1529 is often overlooked. 26 Bosio, pp. 74, 78. 27 Malta, Cod. 85, fol. 45. 28 Text in Morello, “Di una Istruzione”, pp. 69–73.

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The permanent occupation of Malta began in the following spring. Some Hospitallers were on the island in May and June 1530,29 and on 10 June Fr. Huc de Copons and Fr. Jean de Boniface left Siracusa with three galleys for Malta, where they took formal possession of the island on 15 June.30 At some point the Master dispatched wood, iron and lime to repair the ruined houses in the borgo,31 and he sent Fr. Diogo Peres de Malfreire to Malta with a good number of masons, carpenters and smiths to oversee repairs and preparations for housing and rooms there.32 At Siracusa on 17 June 1530 Fr. Simone Bonanno was ordered to go to Licata and Palermo to procure foodstuffs and to ship wood and lime either to Malta or to Siracusa.33 On 24 July the Master, then at Siracusa, complained of the expenses of building in Malta where, “being deprived of every convenience and pleasure, we shall suffer greatly”.34 On 24 September, still at Siracusa, the Master and Council issued instructions for the allotment of housing in Birgu.35 On reaching Malta on 26 October the Master at once ordered that the borgo be walled on its short landward front36 and he took further steps to procure building materials so that by March 1531 fourteen barrels of nails, 286 iron pickaxes and 1,000 iron spades had arrived from Venice.37 It appears that little work was done on the castle in 1531 and 1532, when Malta still seemed indefensible. On 28 July 1532 the Master had news of 150 Turkish ships mistakenly reported to be heading for Malta,38 and two days later he proposed that the island should be partially and temporarily abandoned; the Council decided that the Master and the sacred relics should leave on a galley and that the magna navis should carry a number of milites, presumably Hospitallers, to Messina.39 The Ottoman fleet never arrived, and late in 1532 the Master apparently decided that the Hospital should remain permanently on Malta.40 A Florentine expert known as the “engineer” Pichino was summoned, possibly in mid-1532, to repair and

29

Fiorini, in Birgu, ed. Bugeja, p. 228, n. 55; idem, The Mandati Documents and the Archives of the Mdina Cathedral, Malta: 1473–1539 (Malta, 1992), p. xxxiii. 30 Bosio, p. 84. 31 According to Bosio, p. 85, stating that these materials were sent with a Fr. “Giouanni di Villatorta”, presumably the Catalan Fr. Jaume de Vilatorta who was at Nice in April 1529 and on Malta as a Hospitaller galley captain in March 1531: Malta, Cod. 414, fols 102, 111v–12. 32 Bosio, p. 85. 33 Malta, Cod. 414, fol. 268v–69; cf. Bosio, p. 85. 34 Cited in R. Valentini, “I Cavalieri di S. Giovanni da Rodi a Malta: Trattative Diplomatiche”, Archivum Melitense 9 (1935), 164–65. 35 Below, p. 133. 36 Bosio, p. 89, stating that the borgo was at once (subito) walled and given alcuni piccioli Beluardi. 37 Malta, Cod. 414, fol. 202v. 38 E. Charrière, Négotiations de la France dans le Levant, vol. 1 (Paris, 1848), p. 207; background in K. Setton, The Papacy and the Levant: 1204–1571, vol. 3 (Philadelphia, 1984), pp. 360–65. 39 Malta, Cod. 85, fol. 87v; cf. Bosio, p. 110. 40 As suggested by Victor Mallia-Milanes, in Birgu, ed. Bugeja, p. 78.

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fortify Sant’Angelo and Mdina;41 he was on Malta by February 1533;42 and in that month the Order’s chapter-general resolved that Malta, Gozo and Tripoli be further fortified.43 Some repairs were apparently made, according to Pichino’s advice, at Sant’Angelo and Mdina but both places remained old-fashioned, weak and indefensible. In June Pichino was sent to report on and design defensive works at Tripoli, where he built a tower within the inner castle by the harbour. He returned to Malta later in the year, when he was instructed to plan a tower for the islet of Comino between Malta and Gozo. Then, in December 1533, he made designs for a bastion at Sant’Elmo on Sciberras point across the harbour from Sant’Angelo; the work at Sant’Elmo was not begun, perhaps because the Master died in August 1534, and in 1535 Pichino returned to Italy at his own request.44 In more than two years he apparently contributed very little to Malta’s fortification.45 In 1535 the Order decided to strengthen Birgu and the experienced Italian Antonio Ferramolino, the imperial engineer in Sicily who probably came from Bergamo, arrived in Malta.46 One result was the completion by 1537 of the Homedes bastion, a single acute-angled bastion with two gun ports at sea level which defended the castle’s ditch at its west end but which, for lack of space, had no companion bastion to cover it; in 1536 the ditch was deepened almost to sea level, presumably to counter any threat from mining. Some work on this bastion had apparently begun before August 1534, when the Master l’Isle Adam died, since it reportedly carried his arms together with those of his successors Fr. Pietrino del Ponte and Fr. Didier de Saint-Jaille. The latter died on 26 September 1536 and the 41

Bosio, p. 110. On 22 February 1533 magister Pichino Florentinus sallariatus pro[to]magister inzigner sacre religionis was in Malta: NAV R. 439/9, fols 91v–92. 43 Malta, Cod. 286, fol. 38v. 44 In June 1533 maestro Pichino nostro Ingenieri was sent to Tripoli: text (Malta, Cod. 415, fol. 248) in E. Rossi, Il Dominio degli Spagnoli e dei Cavalieri di Malta a Tripoli: 1510–1551 (no location, 1937), p. 89 (cf. Bosio, p. 124). The rest of the evidence is in Bosio, pp. 110, 124, 128, 140, who put Pichino’s return in 1534, possibly following the Hospital’s use of the Incarnation year ending in March; on Pichino, below, pp. 144–47. 45 Q. Hughes, “The Fortifications of Malta”, Fort 4 (1977), 9 and n. 11, claims that Pichino built the Homedes Bastion and designed the two polygonal bastions at Mdina. The Homedes Bastion carried the arms of Master l’Isle Adam, who died in August 1534, so work on it may have begun in Pichino’s time, and he may also have built Birgu’s walls with two towers: see below, p. 129, nn. 48, 50–51. The Mdina bastions were not, however, begun before 1547: Buhagiar and Fiorini, Mdina, pp. 463–66. On l’Isle Adam’s palace in Mdina which overlooked a courtyard and had an arcaded portico, ibid., pp. 512–15; Stephen Spiteri, “Castellu di la Chitati”, Malta Archaeological Review 4 (2000), 20–21, 25, and plans. On Pichino’s fortifications at Tripoli, Spiteri, Fortresses of the Cross, pp. 286–87; idem, Fortresses of the Knights, pp. 220–21. Spiteri, Fortresses of the Cross, p. 333, and Fortresses of the Knights, p. 244, states that the Sant’Angelo ditch was excavated under Piccino’s supervision, but Bosio, p. 165, gives the date as 1536. A. Hoppen, The Fortification of Malta by the Order of St. John, 2nd ed. (Malta, 1999), pp. 24, 201, n. 3, judges that nothing on Malta can reliably be attributed to Pichino. 46 According to Bosio, p. 140, Ferramolino was in Malta in 1541 when he raised the cavalier in Sant’Angelo and deepened its ditch: information deriving only from Bosio, pp. 198–99, 213–14. Cf. R. Binaghi Picciotto, “Ferramolino, Antonio”, Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani 46 (1996), 437–40. 42

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bastion was probably completed in 1537 while Fr. Jacques de Pelloquin was still acting as lieutenant for the next Master, Fr. Juan de Homedes.47 In April 1536 all slaves in Birgu were directed to work on the beluardo or bastion being constructed “in front of the gate of the castello”, with any infringement to be punished by sending the slaves to work on the large cistern being built in the middle of Birgu,48 and on 23 April 1537 Pelloquin announced that he was continuing fortification works.49 The side of the castle facing Birgu was therefore much the most heavily defended. For the narrow landward side of the borgo, the minimal initial defences consisted merely of a wall with two beluardi, presumably two simple bulwarks or bastions projecting outwards;50 this weak wall, apparently built of stone and earth without any ditch, may not have been completed until as late as mid-1534.51 Inside the castle the former house of the castellan52 was quickly adapted as a palace for the Master, who found his initial lodgings extremely uncomfortable.53 47

Details, drawings and plans in Spiteri, Fortresses of the Cross, pp. 263–64, 290, 292–300; Fortresses of the Knights, pp. 223–24. Bosio, p. 165, states that Pelloquin completed the work in 1536 and reporting the arms of l’Isle Adam, del Ponte and Saint-Jaille on the bastion. Spiteri, Fortresses of the Cross, p. 294, considers that Bosio was referring to the south face, but that is not clear. In c. 1582 Matteo Perez d’Aleccio’s engraving showed three arms, the central one being the Order’s cross, on the west face: ibid., p. 293. Four arms, the Order’s and possibly those of the three Masters, are now on the west flank, but they are partly illegible and not necessarily the originals or, given extensive reconstructions, in their original place: photos in Spiteri, Fortresses of the Cross, p. 294, and Birgu, ed. Bugeja, plate 3.7. After clearing the capers, J. Darmanin, The Phoenico-Graeco-Roman Temple and the Origin and Development of Fort St. Angelo (Malta, 1948), p. 33, saw only the arms of two Masters, Del Ponte with 1535 to the “left”, two shields with the Order’s cross and a fourth, on the “right”, with the cross and 1537. Spiteri, Fortresses of the Cross, p. 294, states that the bastion carries the dates 1535 and 1537, though according to W. Tregellas, “Historical Sketch of the Defences of Malta”, Royal Engineer Institute: Occasional Papers 3, no. 10 (1879), 188, it bore the dates 1536 and 1537; that seems strange since the third of the three Masters died in 1536. Bosio, p. 165, said that in 1536 the fosse was deepened to poco meno, ch’al pari del mare, which Spiteri, Fortresses of the Cross, p. 294, and Fortresses of the Knights, p. 224, interprets as “just below sea-level”. Bosio, p. 199, stated that the fosse was deepened to allow the sea to enter it in 1541. 48 Fiorini, “Birgu”, 257. Stanley Fiorini reports that the text (actually NAV R. 439/19, fol. 8v) reads devanti de lo beluardo che se fa devanti la porta del castello in questo borgo. This evidently referred to the bastion of the castello which did stand in front of the outer gateway. 49 ... non mancando di continuo di fortificare: Malta, Cod. 416, fol. 212v. 50 The map in Quintin, The Earliest Description of Malta, p. iv, published in 1536 but conceivably made slightly earlier, showed a simple wall with two towers; the version in Birgu, ed. Bugeja, plate 16.1, there dated 1536 and showing Birgu with walls on four sides and six towers, presumably belonged to a later edition. 51 Bosio, p. 89, wrote that the bastions were built subito after October 1530; possibly they were commenced at once but completed rather later. Writing of 1534, Foja (London, British Library, MS Egerton 1877), p. 604, stated el vulgo estaua solamente ceñido de un devil muro de piedra y barro sin foso que pocas dias ante el Mre. Villers auia mandado fabricar. 52 Preliminary study and photographs in Anthony Luttrell, “The House of the Castellan of Malta”, Heritage (Malta) 1 no. 9 (January 1978). 53 Bosio, p. 89, but wrongly implying that it was “built” rather than reconstructed. The palace walls carried a coat of arms with the date 1531: Tregellas, “Historical Sketch”, 188. Stephen Spiteri judges that this may have been a copy and that the original may be that now in the palace armoury in Valletta.

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The building was restored and a grander staircase created,54 while its old hall became a new aula maior et nova in which the chapter-general met in February 1533.55 This hall was being used for council meetings by February 153456 and a general assembly met there to elect a new Master in the following August.57 A large annexe added to the south of the palace was probably begun before mid-1534, since it carried the arms of Master l’Isle Adam.58 There remained a considerable expanse of sloping unbuilt ground between the lower, shoreside walls of the castle and its upper, inner walls.59 The small church of Sant’Anna close to the palace became the magistral chapel,60 being enlarged and modified with a new side chapel61 within which l’Isle Adam was buried in August 1534,62 as was his successor Fr. Pierino del Ponte in 1535.63 By November 1532 Sant’Anna was in use for assemblies of Hospitaller brethren.64 On reaching Malta the Master l’Isle Adam also constructed, apparently just south of the chapel, a domed tolo to house the Order’s treasures,65 while in February 1533 the council of sixteen met in the house of the Master’s

54

L. Mahoney, in Birgu, ed. Bugeja, p. 426, plates 2.1–4, 3.5, 10.8; reconstruction in Spiteri, Fortresses of the Cross, p. 295. 55 Malta, Cod. 286, fol. 30. 56 Malta, Cod. 85, fols 108v–10. 57 Text in Schiavone, Pietrino del Ponte, pp. 208–11, stating that fere quadrigenti brethren were present; it is doubtful, however, if there were nearly 400 brethren on Malta or that there would have been room for them in the hall. 58 Spiteri, Fortresses of the Cross, p. 295, with drawing and plan; Birgu, ed. Bugeja, plate 10.8; however, Darmanin, The Phoenico-Graeco-Roman Temple, p. 92, considered these arms too freshly cut to be the original. 59 As shown in frescoes and engravings done by Matteo Perez d’Aleccio between 1576 and 1582 (e.g. Spiteri, Fortresses of the Cross, pp. 292–93). These contain much stylization and conflicting detail but do show a high gabled building, probably the palace, and adjacent to it a square tower, possibly the annexe: A. Ganado and M. Agius Vadalà, A Study in Depth of 143 Maps representing the Great Siege of Malta of 1565, 2 vols (Malta, 1994), 1:329–75, 462–77; 2, plates 74–85, 112–30. That Perez d’Aleccio painted the modelli now at Greenwich remains an assumption. 60 Bosio, p. 89, stating that the Master built a capella. 61 Mahoney, in Birgu, ed. Bugeja, pp. 393–99, plates 1.4, 8.4, 11.1, 11.3–4, fig. 11.1; idem, 5000 Years of Architecture in Malta (Malta, 1996), pp. 68–76, with plans and elevations. 62 Malta, Cod. 85, fol. 117. The coffered barrel-vaulted “renaissance” nympheum facing the palace (Mahoney, in Birgu, ed. Bugeja, p. 441, plate 12.8) reportedly bore the arms of l’Isle Adam twice and the dates 1531 and 1533 (ibid., p. 442) or the date 1533 (Tregellas, 188); F. Weston, Walks in Malta: an Archaeological and Historical Guide 2nd ed. (Malta, 1926), p. 29, saw l’Isle Adam’s arms with the date 1531 but it is not clear exactly where. A date c. 1558 seems stylistically preferable: Birgu, ed. Bugeja, p. 8. 63 Schiavone, Pietrino del Ponte, pp. 203–4. 64 Malta, Cod. 85, fol. 92; Bosio, p. 89, wrote under 1530 of the fine large hall used for chaptersgeneral but apparently it was only in use a little later. 65 Bosio, p. 89; Mario Buhagiar, “The Treasure of the Knights Hospitallers in 1530: Reflections and Art Historical Considerations”, in Peregrinationes: Acta et Documenta 1 (2000), 41–42, with photographs; idem, “The Treasure of Relics and Reliquaries of the Knights Hospitallers in Malta”, in Melitensium Amor: Festschrift in Honour of Dun Gwann Azzopardi, ed. T. Cortis et al. (Malta, 2002), pp. 122, 124, with photograph.

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nephew which was also near the chapel.66 The Hospital’s slaves were initially housed within the castle, possibly beneath the palace, until they revolted in 1531, after which they were moved to a prison immediately outside the castle across its dry ditch.67 Other rock-cut dungeons within the castle were being used to detain Hospitaller brethren by 1532.68 Birgu’s parish church of San Lorenzo was rented for use as the Order’s Conventual church and the Hospitallers established a cemetery next to it.69 The parish priest moved to the Dominican church of the Annunciation by an agreement of 8 November 1530.70 A future Conventual church of Saint John, envisaged by the 1533 chapter-general,71 was never built. Other churches were at once allotted to the Rhodiot Greeks; on 26 October 1530, a few days after the Master’s arrival, he ordered that the ikon from the Damascena church in Rhodes be placed in the church of Saint Catherine, which stood in the cemetery of San Lorenzo and was officiated by the Greek papas Giorgio Diassarino, and that the ikon of the Eleimonitria be put in that of Saint Anthony, where Manoli Surianischi was papas.72 By 1540 the Greeks also had a church of Saint Nicholas.73 A number of the Order’s Flemish tapestries brought from Rhodes were lost when a fire damaged much of San Lorenzo on 1 April 1532; the roof, probably of wood, was destroyed but the ikon of the Virgin of Phileremos and the sacristy escaped. The church was soon “restored and remodernized”, with a new and somewhat higher roof and an enlarged sacristy, at the Order’s expense.74 San Lorenzo was sufficiently repaired for a solemn mass to be celebrated in it at the opening of the chapter-general on 9 February 1533.75 In 1531 there was also a church of San Bartolomeo and

66

prope sacellum: Malta, Cod. 286, fol. 34v. Bosio, pp. 100–101; Darmanin, The Phoenico-Graeco-Roman Temple, pp. 28, 119; Fiorini, “Birgu”, 263, n. 23. 68 D. Calnan, Knights in Durance: a Record of the Carvings and Inscriptions in the Dungeons of the Castle of St Angelo in Malta (Malta, 1966), pp. 1–3, 48–50. In 1542 a Hospitaller was sentenced ad manendum in cavea ante portam castri: Malta, Cod. 86, fol. 117. 69 Bosio, p. 89; cf. Mallia-Milanes, in Birgu, ed. Bugeja, p. 76; cf. A. Zammit Gabarretta, “San Lorenzo-a-Mare: la Chiesa del Grande Te Deum”, Annales de l’Ordre Souverain Militaire de Malte 23 (1965), 119–21. 70 M. Fsadni, in Birgu, ed. Bugeja, pp. 668–70, showing also that the Annunciation church had a cloister in 1537. In 1536 two Hospitallers attended Christmas mass at the Annunciation church dressed as women: Malta, Cod. 86, fol. 43v. 71 Malta, Cod. 286, fol. 58. 72 Texts in Zacharias N. Tsirpanlis, in The Order’s Early Legacy in Malta, ed. John Azzopardi (Malta, 1989), pp. 105–16; cf. Stanley Fiorini, “The Rhodiot Community of Birgu, a Maltese City: c. 1530–1550”, Library of Mediterranean Studies 1 (1994), 225, 239. 73 NAV R. 202/3, fol. 164v. 74 Bosio, p. 111; Mahoney, in Birgu, ed. Bugeja, pp. 408–9. Foja (London, British Library, MS Egerton 1877), p. 590, wrote sin quedar en la yglesia cosa mas que las paredes. Bosio did not, as often claimed, state that San Lorenzo was “destroyed”; its later rebuilding impedes further investigation. 75 Malta, Cod. 286, fol. 30. 67

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by 1535 a church of Saint Paul on the rock near the slaves’ prison.76 One or more private houses must originally have been used for a hospital, which was by tradition an essential component of the Convent,77 but not until late 1532 were many small houses purchased from their Maltese owners and demolished for the construction of the new hospital overlooking Kalkara Creek to the east of Birgu;78 its foundation stone was laid on 1 November 1532.79 On 28 February 1533 the chapter-general, while issuing detailed regulations for the interim hospital, declared that the new one with its cubicula and camere should be finished;80 it was possibly completed during 1533.81 In addition to the defences and public buildings, the Hospital had to cope with a great influx of followers and servants, mercenaries and sailors, merchants and bureaucrats, slaves and others, all crammed into inadequate accommodation, together with perhaps 500 Rhodiots, many of them Greeks and most of them men and very poor. Birgu’s population rapidly increased by some 3,500 people.82 In November 1531 the housing problem was already so serious that a commission of two Hospitallers and three Maltese residents of Birgu was set up to establish rents for houses and shops, with powers to enforce sales of houses which were not completed within a reasonable time.83 By late 1534 the whole walled area had been occupied and more than 500 buildings had been constructed outside the walls to house Rhodian and Sicilian immigrants.84 In 1533 or early 1534 Fr. Jean Quintin could write that the vicus had become a town,85 though it always retained an untidy street plan conditioned by pre-1530 building. A galley was constructed for the Order in 1536 and an arsenal was planned in 1539; in 1542 came a new quay, a wall along

76

Fiorini, “Birgu”, 263, n. 23. Cf. Anthony Luttrell, The Hospitaller State on Rhodes and its Western Provinces: 1306–1462 (Aldershot, 1999), V. A wounded Hospitaller was in infirmaria in September 1531: Malta, Cod. 85, fol. 75. 78 Mallia-Milanes, in Birgu, ed. Bugeja, p. 78. 79 Bosio, p. 118; the hospital (Birgu, ed. Bugeja, plates 9.1–3, 9.5, 13.14a) is described in A. Critien, The Borgo Holy Infirmary and the St. Scholastica Convent (Malta, 1950), pp. 14–21. 80 Malta, Cod. 286, fols 38v–39v. 81 L’Isle Adam’s arms with the date 1533 are in the hospital cloister: photograph in Birgu, ed. Bugeja, plate 9.2. 82 Much detail in Fiorini, in Birgu, ed. Bugeja, pp. 228–38. On the Rhodians, Zacharias Tsirpanlis, “Apo te Rodo ste Malta: 1523–1530”, Dodona 17 (1988); Anthony Luttrell, in The Order’s Early Legacy, ed. Azzopardi, pp. 5–7, 13; Fiorini, “Rhodiot Community”, and idem, “The Rhodiots of Malta”, in Rodos 2.444 Chronia: É Polé tés Rodou apo tén Idryse tés mexri tén Katalepse apo tous Tourkos (1523) 2 (Rhodes, 2000), both articles using the registers of Rhodiot notaries active on Malta; Nicolas Vatin, L’Ordre de Saint-Jean-de-Jérusalem, l’Empire ottoman et la Méditerranée orientale entre les deux Sièges de Rhodes: 1480–1522 (Louvain, 1994), pp. 364–71, using Venetian and Ottoman sources. 83 Malta, Cod. 415, fols 223v–224: text in S. Borg Cardona, “The Officio delle Case and the Housing Laws of the Earlier Grand Masters: 1531–69”, Law Journal (Malta) 3, no. 1 (1951), 57–58. 84 Cambiano, in “Un curioso Dialogo”, ed. Shimizu, p. 78; ed. Ganado, in Birgu, ed. Bugeja, p. 588. 85 Quintin, The Earliest Description of Malta, p. 30. 77

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the western sea front of Birgu was begun and so was a deeper outer ditch; and in 1545 a bakery was built with offices for the treasury above it.86 The Hospitallers had to face the problems of where to lodge themselves and how to adapt their old constitution and traditions to new circumstances.87 On Rhodes their original ideals of strict personal poverty and a communal religious life had been replaced by arrangements in their Convent or headquarters which divided the brethren into langues whose members’ activities centred on their auberges which were located within a restricted area known as the collachium. The Conventual langues corresponded approximately to provinces or groups of priories in Western Europe; they gathered together brethren who understood each other’s language and they served to regulate a complicated system of seniorities and military service or caravana which provided for promotion to benefices in the West and for election to leading positions in the Convent. According to the system developed on Rhodes, the langue was a corporation with its own officers, incomes, finances and responsibilities; it had its own auberge in which its members received new brethren, debated business, ate, prayed and, in some cases, slept, though many brethren on Rhodes had lived away from their auberge in rooms or houses which they rented or owned.88 Problems in Birgu had been anticipated by the Master and Council, who on 24 September 1530, while still at Siracusa, instructed that, in order to avoid disputes, houses should be allocated to the lieutenant and the prior of the Convent, after which seven of the best houses in Birgu should be allotted as auberges and distributed among the langues.89 There were eight langues but when in 1462 the langue of Spain was divided into the two langues of Castile and of Aragon they continued to share a single auberge.90 There had been a single auberge of Spain at Viterbo in 152691 and so at first there was in Birgu, but as early as December 1530 the small house they

86 Bosio, pp. 140, 184, 214, 242; on the arsenal, Malta, Cod. 286, fol. 89. According to Bosio, p. 216, the bishop moved to Birgu in 1542, but there is no evidence that he had a palace in Birgu. The existence of a curia castellanie or in 1537 of carceres Castellanie (NAV R. 206/2, fol. 28) is not proof for a purposebuilt law court, though the style of the cloisters of the future Inquisitor’s Palace does suggest an early date: see below, p. 140. 87 Luttrell, in Hospitaller Malta, ed. Mallia-Milanes, emphasizing continuities. 88 The deliberations of the Italian langue (1437–62) are published, with discussion, by Anthony Luttrell and Stanley Fiorini, in Luttrell, Hospitaller State on Rhodes, XIX; those of the English langue (1523–67) in H. Scicluna, The Book of Deliberations of the Venerable Tongue of England: 1523–1567 (Malta, 1949). 89 ... domos et mansiones albergiarum: Malta, Cod. 414, fol. 281v (text in Valentini, “I Cavalieri di S. Giovanni da Rodi a Malta”, 231). 90 ... nous divisons en deux langues constituees soubz une auberge: cited in A. Gabriel, La Cité de Rhodes: 1310–1522, 2 vols (Paris, 1921–23), 2:55, n. 1; the single Auberge of Spain at Rhodes is described at ibid., 2:55–61. 91 Malta, Cod. 84, fols 21v, 78v.

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occupied proved too constricted and the Hispanic brethren agreed to divide their belongings which did not include liturgical items, probably lost on Rhodes, and to create two separate auberges.92 The English langue was renting an auberge at Viterbo in 1527 and meeting in the house it rented as its auberge in Birgu by March 1531 when the English planned to build “a sufficiente chambre” on the vacant site adjacent to the south side of their auberge for its chief officer, the Turcopolier, and his lieutenant in order to save the expense of hiring them a separate house. The book of deliberations recorded in 1532 or 1533 that Fr. John Babyngton “hathe and ryghtly inioyethe a mansion howse not far dystant frome the market sted wythin the borowe of Malta wherein won Fr. Harry Pole knyght of the honorabell tonnge of Inglond at this present remaynethe”. In October 1534 the Turcopolier Fr. Clement West purchased a house near the church of the Virgin of Monserrat, and in the next year he gave it to the English langue.93 Presumably the other langues also hired or purchased existing buildings in Birgu to serve as their auberge, while many brethren lived in rooms or houses which they must progressively have improved.94 Thus in August 1532 the Grand Preceptor issued an act in the hall of his habitacio within the Auberge of Provence in Birgu;95 in March 1533 the prior of Rome, the Florentine Fr. Bernardo Salviati who was a kinsman of the pope and an important figure, had a house with a terrazza in Birgu;96 in 1537 the sergeant Fr. Diogo Peres de Malfreire had a barraca, maybe a wooden hut or warehouse, there.97 Yet Giacomo Bosio was later to claim that as late as 1555 Hospitaller brethren were compelled to live in camerate or dormitories, ten or fifteen brethren in ogni piccola casetta.98 The collachium at Rhodes had never constituted a form of clausura which excluded non-Hospitallers; in fact Latins and Greeks lived and owned property within it. The Rhodian collachium did include all the main Conventual buildings and was designed to contain the brethren, who could not live outside it or leave it at certain times without permission.99 Within it were the auberges, though they were 92

Malta, Cod. 414, fols 179–80: partial text below, pp. 147–48. Scicluna, Book of Deliberations, pp. 20, 32, 70–71, 75; A. Mifsud, Knights Hospitallers of the Venerable Tongue of England in Malta (Malta, 1916), pp. 96–97. 94 ... che se ben quasi tutti haueuano case e stanze commode: Bosio, p. 871, referring to 1571. A statute of 1555 indicated that the auberge was a place where brethren met and ate: Gabriel, La Cité de Rhodes, 2:38. In 1562 brethren were living in houses, purchasing and enlarging them, but not, without magistral permission, outside the collachium: text in Borg Cardona, “The Officio delle Case”, 62–67. 95 in burgo Melite: Malta, Cod. 85, fol. 88. 96 Bosio, p. 122. 97 NAV R. 439/24, fol. 3v. 98 Bosio, p. 297. 99 Luttrell, in Hospitaller Malta, ed. Mallia-Milanes, p. 268. In 1541 it was decreed that no frater could spend the night outside the Conventus without magistral permission: Malta, Cod. 86, fol. 104. In 1451 on the Hospital’s island of Kos the brethren were to live, sleep and keep their goods, equipment and horses within the collaca: text in Zacharias Tsirpanlis, Anekdota Eggrapha gia te Rodo kai tis Noties Sporades apo to Archeio ton Ioanniton Ippoton (Rhodes, 1995), no. 244. Q. Hughes, Fortress: Architecture and Military History in Malta (London, 1969), p. 34, misleadingly states that the collachium “merely gave [the Knights] the option to purchase or rent property from the Maltese”. 93

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not all located in the main street.100 The notion of the collachium was introduced in Birgu, but whereas on Rhodes the collachium area was separated from the borgo by a strong wall, on Malta after 1530 all or most of any collachium would unavoidably have had to be within the borgo. In February 1533 the chapter-general decided to designate an area within which the Convent would be separated from the plebs and from secular persons and in which a new Conventual church, future auberges and other houses would eventually be built.101 The ideal of an enclosed collachium, which was already misleadingly claimed to be part of the Rhodian tradition, reappeared in similar terms at subsequent chapters-general in 1539,102 in 1555 and again in 1562, in which year detailed topographical boundaries for it were established.103 The Hospitallers on Malta in and after 1530 came from many parts of Latin Europe and most of their leaders had recently spent several years in Italy, while a good number had first-hand experience of building traditions on Rhodes. Artillery, bastions, mines and complicated new fortification techniques required professional advice from experts who were often described as “engineers”; those employed on Rhodes were usually Italian or French, some being temporary visiting advisers while others had more permanent salaried appointments.104 That tradition was

100

As repeatedly claimed, e.g. by Mahoney, in Birgu, ed. Bugeja, p. 425. In fact, at Rhodes the auberges of France, of Spain and probably of Provence were in the main “Street of the Knights”, but that of Auvergne was elsewhere near the arsenal: Gabriel, La Cité de Rhodes, 2:63. The German and English auberges were close to the barbican wall just east of the post-1440 hospital: Malta, Cod. 82, fols 68, 83; cf. Gabriel, La Cité de Rhodes, 2:68–69. The so-called Auberge of Italy was probably not where it is commonly thought to have been: ibid., 2:62–63; L. Ciacci, Rodi Italiana 1912–1923: Come si inventa una Città (Venice, 1991), pp. 94–103. The presumed English auberge was largely rebuilt in modern times: ibid., pp. 102, 116–17. 101 Item quia non solum condecens sed necessarium est elligere et dessignare locum vbi Conuentus a plebe et secularibus personis separatus claudi possit et illic Ecclesiam Albergias et ceteras habitationes erigere et edificare ...: Malta, Cod. 286, fol. 59: partial text in G. Porsella-Flores, “Il Collachio a Malta”, Il Delfino (Turin), 16, no. 89 (1986), 21–22; cf. Bosio, 3:121. 102 Malta, Cod. 286, fol. 88v. 103 Texts in Borg Cardona, “The Officio delle Case”, 59–67. The area designated in 1562 (text and rough plan in Birgu, ed. Bugeja, p. 80 n. 29, plate 7.6) was never enclosed by any wall and did not contain the Conventual church, the presumed Castellania or, probably, the Auberge of Castile: see below, p. 143. 104 Gabriel, La Cité de Rhodes, 1:113–17; R. Santorro, “Giuseppe Gerola e Albert Gabriel sui Bastioni di Rodi”, Atti dell’Istituto Veneto di Scienze, Lettere ed Arti 147 (1988–89); Fotini KarassavaTsilingieri, “Fifteenth-Century Hospitaller Architecture on Rhodes: Patrons and Master Masons”, in The Military Orders, vol. 2: Welfare and Warfare, ed. Helen Nicholson (Aldershot, 1998); Elias Kollias, The Medieval City of Rhodes and the Palace of the Grand Master, 2nd edn (Athens, 1998), pp. 83–85. Note also that a Pierre de la Mote of Anjou was summoned to Rhodes in 1493 to serve as architect and artillery expert: Malta, Cod. 77, fol. 94. In 1502 a Bartolino de Castellione from Cremona was being employed as the Hospital’s ingeniere e architetto at Rhodes: Anthony Luttrell, The Later History of the Maussolleion and its Utilization in the Hospitaller Castle at Bodrum = The Maussolleion at Halikarnassos, vol. 2 (Aarhus, 1986), p. 181, n. 89.

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continued on Malta with the summoning of the Florentine Pichino in 1532 and of Antonio Ferramolino in 1535. For more simple defensive works and for civil buildings on Rhodes there had been no named individual architect or “engineer” but rather a variety of arrangements involving collaboration between local master masons or expert protomagistri, magistri muratores and carpenters, who were overseen in a general way and their finances managed by one or more Hospitallers with whom they acted jointly. Often the brethren and the masons acted together with mixed commissions, and sometimes it was an individual langue which made a contract with several masons.105 Such practices were continued on Malta. There too there was a local tradition of building carried out by master masons and experts in the soft island stone, though some of those in charge as supra marammeri had foreign names; they too worked in consultation with the authorities and some of them had been employed at Sant’Angelo.106 The mastro marammero since 1522, the Sicilian Matteo Coglituri, was dead by January 1529,107 and Joanni Abela, who was in charge of works at Sant’Angelo from 1528 to January 1530108 seems to have lost that position. In mid-1530 the Hospitaller Fr. Diogo Peres de Malfreire was apparently charged with the simple preliminary tasks of preparing accommodation, and from about 1533 to 1555 one master mason, who was clearly responsible for much fortification work, was the Rhodian Nicola Flevari.109 As on Rhodes, Hospitaller brethren remained in overall charge; thus in 1542, when the new cavalier was under construction at Sant’Angelo, two brethren from each langue were to take turns in assisting with the building in the castle110 while two Hospitallers were appointed to the same task in 1547.111 Some Hospitallers had considerable expertise; for example, the Florentine Fr. Leone Strozzi Prior of Capua, who was a nephew of Pope Clement VII and who arrived in Malta in 1535, was said to have a good knowledge of fortifications.112 The Portuguese sergeant-brother Fr. Diogo Peres de Malfreire, who was sent ahead from Sicily to Malta in mid-1530, represented a type of Hospitaller with Conventual experience who could be drafted into supervisory action without necessarily possessing special architectural talents; his main task was apparently to

105

Best discussion in Karassava-Tsilingeri, “Fifteenth-Century Hospitaller Architecture”; cf. Gabriel, La Cité de Rhodes, 1:98, 112–15, 145–49 (texts); 2:232; Luttrell, Later History of the Maussolleion, pp. 160–61, n. 84, 187–88; Kollias, Medieval City of Rhodes, p. 83. 106 Fiorini, The Mandati Documents, pp. xxii–xxiv, xxxix–xliv; Wettinger, in Birgu, ed. Bugeja, pp. 53–55. 107 Fiorini, The Mandati Documents, p. xxiii; Coglituri cannot have fortified Sant’Angelo and Birgu or have built the palace and church in Sant’Angelo, as proposed in Q. Hughes, The Building of Malta: 1530–1795, rev. ed. (London, 1967), p. 208. 108 Fiorini, The Mandati Documents, pp. xxiv, 28. 109 See below, pp. 138–39. 110 Malta, Cod. 86, fol. 125v. 111 Malta, Cod. 87, fol. 76v. 112 Bosio, pp. 140, 168.

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oversee the repair and preparation of living quarters.113 Malfreire may have served on Rhodes; he was not a knight but an armorum serviens who had been at the chapter-general at Viterbo in 1526114 and was with the Convent at Nice in 1528 when he was granted ancianitas or seniority and the right to a commandery in Portugal.115 In October 1531 he was on Malta and enjoying an annual pension of 70 ducats paid by the Master in lieu of any income from a commandery, on which he owed responsiones of 30 ducats. In February 1533 he owed 40 ducats from a pension of 120 ducats and was assured that the next chapter-general would grant him the hospital of San João de Trancoso in Portugal when it became vacant.116 He participated in the magistral election of 1534.117 Malfreire had some involvement in local affairs: for example, in November 1530 he made a small payment to a Maltese; in January 1533 he was able to purchase two-thirds of a navigium or saytia from a citizen of Malta; in 1537 he possessed a barraca, probably some kind of hut or warehouse, and purchased a young Jewish female slave.118 Fr. Diogo Peres de Malfreire remained on Malta receiving a pension and repeatedly seeking promotion, a lengthy matter for a sergeant, until he was granted for life the Commandery of Vila Cova, by magistral grace rather than by seniority, in 1540. He was given the hospital of San João de Trancoso in October 1543, and in the following month he was licensed to go to his commandery in Portugal; he was still alive there in 1551.119 A sergeant might well acquire architectural skills, as in the case of a Castilian sergeant, Fr. Diego Roldán, who was said to have some knowledge of the art of fortification and who in 1551 was overseeing the bastions and ditch of Birgu.120 Malfreire’s building interests extended also to the chapel of Saint Julian on the other side of the creek from Birgu in the centre of what later became Senglea. He had it repaired or rebuilt and endowed it with sixteen yearly 113 Malfreire was sent ahead as “Ingegniere, e Soprastante dell’opere” in mid-1530 merely to “riparare e accomodare le habitationi e le stanze”, and only later did the Master arrive and, on 26 October, order the construction of a defensive wall and beluardi for Birgu: Bosio, pp. 85–89. Bosio’s terms “Ingegniere” and “Soprastante” derived from no known text and perhaps represented an element of hindsight or imprecision. “Ingegniere” might imply expertise in fortifications and yet Mahoney, in Birgu, ed. Bugeja, pp. 397–99, and idem, 5000 Years of Architecture, p. 321, considers, but entirely hypothetically, Malfreire as a military expert sent to “restore fortifications” and as a domestic architect who rebuilt Sant’Anna and remoulded the Castellan’s house, built the hospital and the presumed Castellania, probably rebuilt San Lorenzo in 1532, built the Gesù church at Rabat, and introduced “gothic” quadripartite cross-vaulting to Malta. 114 As Vidacus Pays: Malta, Cod. 286, fol. 4v. 115 As armorum serviens: Malta, Cod. 414, fol. 159. 116 Malta, Cod. 415, fols 156v, 282–82v, 287–87v. 117 Text in Schiavone, Pietrino del Ponte, pp. 208–11. 118 NAV R. 439/1, fol. 1; 439/9, fol. 35; 439/24, fol. 3v; 202/1(II), fols 97–97v. 119 Various details in Malta, Cod. 416, fol. 133; 417, fols 174v–75v, 197v–98; 418, fols 207v–8; 419, fols 153, 157v–58, 162; 423, fols 148–48v. 120 Bosio, p. 324, as “soprastante” or supervisor “il quale haueua qualche cognitione dell’arte di fortificar le Piazze”. Roldán was on Malta in 1550 and in 1566 when he was licensed to return to Castile: Malta, Cod. 88, fol. 57v; 422, fols 160–60v; 426, fols 178, 185v–86.

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masses; he secured a papal licence for this and his foundation, which involved the expenditure of what was technically the Order’s money, was confirmed by the Master and Council in March 1539.121 Malfreire’s initiative was commemorated in the chapel by an inscription accompanied by his arms.122 The practical side of the building tradition from Rhodes was overseen on Malta by the master mason Nicola Flevari.123 He was evidently a Greek since at some point in or after 1523 he left his family under Turkish rule on Rhodes, which a Latin probably could not have done. He may have had building experience on Rhodes,124 but his whereabouts and activities between 1522 and 1533, when he entered the Hospital’s service, are unknown. In 1543 he claimed a pension for ten years’ work as muratore et capomastro delle opere de muraglie de la Religione , stating that he had a wife and children on Rhodes and two daughters on Malta. His pathetic petition noted that the Hospitallers had paid a maestro francese five scudi a month to make camini; he claimed that he himself had been useful in doing everything that an ingegner could do, and that his own service would have been worth 500 scudi to the Order. Flevari asserted that he had taught many of the Order’s slaves the art of the muratore and of making camini, terrazze, cisterni et ogni altra cosa di boni maestri;125 apparently he worked on military constructions such as chemins de ronde, covered ways and gun platforms.126 In 1547 the Master confirmed Flevari’s manumission of a Turkish slave, describing him as maestro and as prothomastro delli architetura nostra.127 Flevari’s work apparently came to an end in 1555 with the appointment of Nicola Belevante, architectus. At that point Flevari’s salary was increased on account of his age but he was instructed not to do any more work for the Order: quod magister Nicolaus Fleuari non se intromittat super operibus, et

121

Text below, pp. 149–50. Eighteenth-century transcription in National Library of Malta (NLM), Biblioteca, MS. 751, fols 273–73v, given in Stanley Fiorini, “The Legend of St. Julian the Hospitaller”, in San Giljan mitt sena parocco 1891–1991: the Centenary of a Parish – St. Julian’s, ed. Stanley Fiorini (Malta, 1992), p. 17; the arms are at fol. 273v. 123 Flevari was first noted in V. Bonello, “Il Primo Architetto dell’Ordine a Malta”, Melita Historica 1, no. 1 (1952); the form Flevari, rather than Flavari, is given in all three known Hospitaller documents which mention him. 124 There is no evidence for the assertion in V. Bonello, “Posizione storica dell’Architettura maltese dal ’500 al ’700”, in Atti del XV Congresso di Storia dell’ Architettura (Rome, 1970), p. 453, that Flevari was either the Hospitallers’ last maestro delle opere on Rhodes or the first on Malta. 125 Malta, Cod. 419, fols 212v–13v: text in Bonello, “Il Primo Architetto”, 4–5. Had Flevari’s service lasted more than ten years when he claimed a pension for it in 1543 he would presumably have said so in order to increase its value. Fiorini, “The Rhodiot Community”, 226, gives further references to Nicola Flevari and, for 1535, to a Duquena Flavari of Rhodes. 126 Bonello, “Il Primo Architetto”, 6, and Mahoney, in Birgu, ed. Bugeja, p. 446, interpret camini as chimneys, Mahoney claiming that Flevari and the French maestro installed fireplaces in small houses in Birgu. Camino did mean fireplace and a road was more normally written cammino. A kitchen chimney was mentioned in 1539: NAV R. 202/3, fol. 267. Mahoney, 5000 Years of Architecture, p. 315, suggests that Flevari may have contributed to the origin of the “triple roll” Melitan moulding. 127 Malta, Cod. 420, fol. 110v. 122

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fabrica religionis.128 Nicola Flevari seems to have been a competent master mason who for over twenty years from 1533 onwards carried out fortification and other works, perhaps under the supervision of relatively humble Hospitaller brethren such as the sergeants Fr. Diogo Peres de Malfreire and Fr. Diego Roldán. The Order also employed other experts such as the unknown French maestro of whom Flevari complained in 1543. Common speech in Birgu after 1530 must have been mainly in Italian, known in many cases in some form of Sicilian or lingua franca to Hospitallers, Rhodians and Maltese. Though three of the eight langues spoke French or Provençal, the Convent and its chancery, and also the local notaries, functioned in Latin or Italian. A few Hospitallers such as Fr. Jean Quintin and Fr. Antoine Geoffroi were classical Latinists; some brethren would have spoken some demotic Greek learnt on Rhodes; and at Malta, Gozo and Tripoli, or in infidel captivity, others would have acquired Maltese or Arabic. Catalans, Aragonese and Portuguese would mostly have communicated in Castilian, though the chancery scribes met a few problems when they had occasionally to transcribe it.129 In 1534 the Master addressed the English in Latin,130 but in 1533 the most senior German Hospitaller could not be elected as lieutenant of the bailiff as he could speak only German, and for the magistral election of 1535 there was no German miles capable of understanding Latin so that the German langue had to be represented by a chaplain.131 The Hospitallers brought with them from Rhodes and the West a variety of paintings, tapestries, liturgical books, relics and other items,132 and added other works such as the choral manuscripts done for the Master in 1533, possibly to replace books destroyed in the San Lorenzo fire of April 1532.133 Professionals and craftsmen, especially goldsmiths and silversmiths, came from Rhodes and elsewhere; the sculptor Niccolò Caccialepre was on Malta, as was the painter Calcerano Lorobello of Siracusa in 1537.134 An altarpiece of Saint Lawrence dated 1532 and bearing the Masters’ arms was in the Conventual church, while a beautiful painted crucifix attributed to Raphael’s pupil Polidoro Caldara da Caravaggio may have been a replacement commissioned for San Lorenzo soon after the fire of 1532, as may the six panels painted by an Italian artist in oil on wood which showed scenes

128

Malta, Cod. 89, fol. 34. Texts below, pp. 147–50. 130 Bosio, p. 66. 131 Malta, Cod. 85, fol. 97; 86, fol. 11; cf. J. Brincat, “The Languages of the Knights: Legislation, Administration and Diplomacy in a Multi-Lingual State (14th–16th Centuries)”, in Language and Diplomacy, ed. J. Kurbalija and H. Slavik (Malta, 2001). 132 To Azzopardi, The Order’s Early Legacy, add Buhagiar, “The Treasure of the Knights Hospitallers”, and idem in Birgu, ed. Bugeja, pp. 461–70. 133 M. Caruana, The l’Isle Adam Illuminated Manuscripts and other Illuminated Choral Books in Malta (Malta, 1997), establishing the date. 134 Fiorini, “Birgu”, 259 and nn. 29, 31–32; Luttrell, in Azzopardi, The Order’s Early Legacy, pp. 5–7, 11. 129

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of the biblical Creation.135 Two of the ikons from Rhodes belonged to the Greek Rhodiots rather than to the Order, though the latter’s relics included the Phileremos Madonna. The Hospitallers had their tombs, their heraldry, their precious relics and their portraits of Masters and other brethren, but they lacked any iconographical system. Their sacred pictures showed the standard relevant saints, such as the Virgin, the Baptist and Saint Catherine, but there was not as yet any attempt to create an organized cult of a range of Hospitaller saints.136 The fortification of Birgu during the decade after 1530 revealed no particular innovatory talent, and for various reasons the Hospitallers rejected their experts’ proposals for a fort on the strategic headland of Mount Sciberras opposite Birgu which dominated the castle.137 There was, however, a group of buildings which, in the few years immediately following 1530, introduced to Malta a feature previously unknown there. This was the archaic ribbed quadripartite cross-vaulted ceiling found in the palace staircase, in the side chapel added to Sant’Anna, in the ground floor of the hospital, and in the courtyard of what became the Inquisitor’s Palace in Birgu, and in the cloisters at Santa Maria di Gesù at Rabat outside Mdina which were paid for by the Master l’Isle Adam;138 his entrails were buried there in mid-1534.139 This feature, which was anachronistic in European terms, very possibly pre-dated both the arrival of the Florentine Pichino late in 1532 and the service of Nicola Flevari, which apparently began only in 1533; it could have been introduced by some other architect, by an individual Hospitaller or by some mixed commission.140 In the years from 1530 to 1536 the Order faced great and varied difficulties.141 Though the Hospital had wavered about occupying Malta before 1530 and continued to do so thereafter, it established its “island order state” on Malta remarkably rapidly. In March 1533 there was open warfare in the streets of Birgu, the Italian brethren siding with the Spaniards against the French.142 Yet constitutional continuities and power sharing based on a gerontocratic seniority system prevailed. 135

Buhagiar in Azzopardi, The Order’s Early Legacy, pp. 24–26, 28–31, with plates; idem, in Birgu, ed. Bugeja, pp. 466–70, plate 13.9. 136 L. Corti, “Santi ed Eroi: l’Immaginario dei Cavalieri Gerosolimitani”, in Lungo il Tragitto Crociato della Vita, ed. L. Corti (Venice, 2000). 137 Spiteri, Fortresses of the Cross, pp. 369–70. 138 For Santa Maria, see J. Aquilina and Stanley Fiorini, The Origin of Franciscanism in Late Medieval Malta (Malta, 1995), p. 55; photograph in Mahoney, 5000 Years of Architecture, p. 67. 139 Text in Quintin, The Earliest Description of Malta, p. 10, n. 6. 140 This group of quadripartite cross-vaultings datable to between 1530 and about 1534 is generally recognized: e.g. in Mahoney, 5000 Years of Architecture, p. 321, attributing them to Malfreire, and in Buhagiar and Fiorini, Mdina, p. 513, asserting that they came from Rhodes and suggesting that the repetition of an anachronistic style was partly due to nostalgia for Rhodes. Bonello, “Posizione storica dell’Architettura maltese”, 453, attributes them specifically to Flevari, a “ritardatario di Rodi”. Bugeja et al., in Birgu, ed. Bugeja, p. 5, suppose that the Sant’Angelo staircase was done by a foreigner unaware of the qualities of Maltese stone, since part of the vaulting was moulded in stucco. 141 The best work, that of Schiavone, Pietrino del Ponte, leaves many themes unexplored. 142 Bosio, p. 122.

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In 1530 the Master l’Isle Adam was an old man, and so were his two successors, while the third, Fr. Juan de Homedes, was about sixty when he reached Malta in 1537. L’Isle Adam’s three successors were all elected in their absence, the first two dying soon after their election, the second of them before he reached Malta. A French Master was succeeded by a Piemontese, a Provençal and an Aragonese, and then from November 1535 to January 1538 the Order was ruled by a lieutenant, Fr. Jacques de Pelloquin of the Priory of France.143 In 1535 the dying Master Pierino del Ponte even “designated” his successor, Fr. Didier de Saint-Jaille, who was elected though he never governed on Malta.144 The Birgu auberges The above notes represent an initial, incomplete attempt to establish systematically a number of facts and dates for the Hospital’s earliest building activities in Birgu while evaluating the reliability of Giacomo Bosio, from whom so much of the available information is unavoidably derived; a general study of Bosio’s post-1530 sources would be especially useful. Further written information is contained in the Order’s archives and in other Maltese sources, especially in the notarial registers; documents, notably letters written from Malta, also survive in Hospitaller and other European archives. The locations of the pre-1565 auberges may be indicated in later sources such as, for example, the deliberations of the Italian langue which begin in 1564. The surviving auberge-type buildings themselves have been difficult of access and await detailed study and plans, while a general survey of all pre-1565 buildings in Birgu is an obvious desideratum. The history of the Birgu auberges constitutes a key point and one which cannot be understood without some appreciation of the Order’s constitution and its Rhodian traditions. The distinction between a house, probably rented or purchased, and a purpose-built auberge is often overlooked. There are indeed a few buildings in Birgu which have similar façades and have courtyards and other common features, such as large panelled pilasters, boldly projecting cornices and the so-called Melitan triple roll mouldings. These can plausibly be interpreted as having probably been built as auberges, and a likely date for them might be circa 1555–60; despite their provincial apppearance, they have, but very hypothetically, been attributed to the architect Bartolomeo Genga.145 Unfortunately, because one of these buildings was mistakenly labelled as the Auberge of England and because it was incorrectly assigned to a period before 1534,146 the whole group has been dated by various 143

Ibid., pp. 157–75. Text in Schiavone, Pietrino del Ponte, pp. 220–22. 145 For example, in Bugeja et al., in Birgu, ed. Bugeja, p. 7. 146 J. Ward Perkins, “Medieval and Early Renaissance Architecture in Malta”, Antiquaries Journal 22 (1942), 173. 144

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scholars to about 1534.147 This has led to unlikely and confused datings for the arrival in Malta, from some supposed particular place of origin, of various features. In reality something very similar to the Melitan mouldings already existed on Rhodes, in parts of Spain and doubtless in other places,148 just as courtyard buildings were a standard feature of Mediterranean architecture across many centuries and had, in any case, long existed in auberges on Rhodes149 and in houses at Mdina on Malta itself.150 The misdating of these auberge-style buildings has also led to the improbable identification of their architect and the innovator of their special features as Malfreire, Flevari or Pichino since only they were known to have been on Malta in the early 1530s. There has been an urge to attribute buildings and the introduction of styles to particular named individuals rather than to appreciate the Rhodian tradition of collegiate collaboration between expert master masons and competent Hospitaller brethren. Despite the extreme paucity of evidence, scholars have also been tempted to seek eight particular buildings to be identified as the auberge of each langue,151 and it is, therefore, important to examine what evidence there is, remembering that the decision of the 1533 chapter-general that auberges should eventually be constructed within a collachium was repeated in 1539, 1555 and 1562,152 the implication always being that at least some of these purpose-built auberges did not yet exist. The key case is that of the English, who faced special difficulties caused by their poverty which left them unlikely to be able to build a new house even before their possessions in England were confiscated in 1540. From 1530 onwards they were established in hired or purchased houses.153 In 1546 the Treasury was having to pay 20 ducats a year for the rent of the house in which the few impoverished English brethren had their auberge. The brief restoration of the English priory under Queen Mary in 1557 led to the English Cardinal Reginald Pole providing 60 pounds for the purchase and furnishing, not for the building, of a new auberge. In 1559 and 1560 the English brethren were raising money and selling houses and gardens “for the housing of a convenient house or alberge”, and in 1564 the Hospitaller holding the cardinal’s donation insisted on retaining it, declaring that it should be spent for the building of a house: hujusmodi pecunias sibi traditas fuisse pro edificando domo eiusdem lingue. In 1561 the English Fr. Oliver Starkey was authorized to lease

147

E.g. Mahoney, in Birgu, ed. Bugeja, pp. 428, 430. E.g. ibid., pp. 436–37, plates 12.3ab. 149 Gabriel, La Cité de Rhodes, 2: 39–68, 114–19, 128 and passim. 150 Buhagiar and Fiorini, Mdina, pp. 78–82. 151 E.g. Mahoney, 5000 Years of Architecture, pp. 133–35, figs 35–36 (photo at p. 153), describes the auberges, listing seven supposedly built with courtyards “from about 1533” and illustrating an eighth; it is fair to note that Mahoney’s book was published posthumously, perhaps without careful revision. 152 Above, p. 135. 153 Above, p. 133. 148

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a house for use as an auberge, yet in March 1564 he was still claiming a house which he said was needed as an auberge, that is pro usu publico et necessitate Albergie, emphasizing that there was no English auberge; another Hospitaller actually contended cum nullum albergium in presentiorum venerande lingue Anglie sit.154 There never was a purpose-built English auberge in Birgu. Nothing definite is known about a purpose-built auberge of Aragon.155 A fragment of a façade, now destroyed, of an apparently sixteenth-century building possibly of the auberge type stood on the east side of Birgu’s main square; this was supposed, entirely arbitrarily, to have been the Auberge of Germany.156 The two windows and the tall column with mouldings, all apparently sixteenth-century, which survive at the east side of the corner of Hilda Tabone Street and Barrack Front Street,157 might have belonged to an auberge but were not, as often claimed, part of the Auberge of Castile. The location of the old Castilian auberge was shown on a cabreo of 1734 as behind and to the east of four houses somewhere on the east side of the main street, the old Strada San Antonio, which led from the main square to the castle.158 The location of the Italian auberge is also unknown. Its langue did possess some rooms close to the castle to the west of the main road leading to it; they presumably belonged to the building with a sixteenth-century façade, now partly destroyed, which faces Saint Lawrence Street and carries a stone relief inscribed IHS and IN TE D[OMI]NE SPERAVI.159 The well-preserved building in Majjstral Street, a turning off Hilda Tabone Street, is the one usually identified as the Auberge of

154

Much detail in Scicluna, Book of Deliberations, pp. 51–52, 68–69; Mifsud, Knights Hospitallers, pp. 97–101, the same sources being more coherently presented in G. Darmanin Demajo, “Note intorno alle Ultime Sedi della Lingua d’Inghilterra nell’Ordine di San Giovanni”, Archivio Storico di Malta 7 (1936), 215–21. 155 L. Zahra, “The Auberges of the Knights at Birgu”, Heritage (Malta) 23 (1979), 445, assigns to Aragon a house in North West (now Majjstral) Street which was demolished in the 1930s. 156 G. Darmanin Demajo, “L’Albergia della Lingua d’Alemagna”, Archivio Storico di Malta 4 (1934), 66. 157 Zahra, “Auberges of the Knights”, 444–45 with photo; Birgu, ed. Bugeja, plate 12.5. 158 Malta, Treasury B 310, fols 27v–28. G. Darmanin Demajo, “Le Albergie delle Lingue Iberiche e le loro Chiese Nazionali”, Archivio Storico di Malta 3 (1932), 72, saw only a “piccolo avanzo” there. Bosio, p. 231, stated that land purchased for a new hospital in 1543 was not far from the existing hospital and opposite (dirimpetto) the Auberge of Castile. 159 G. Darmanin Demajo, “Storia dell’Albergia della Lingua d’Italia”, Archivio Storico di Malta 1 (1930), 265; photographs in Zahra, “Auberges of the Knights”, 446. In 1575 Pietro Dusina visited Santa Caterina in the platea sopra marinam, close to the church of the Virgin of Monserrat which was constructa subtus domos Albergae linguae Italiae, et supra habitatur, et modo habitat Reverendus frater Verzet, prodomus Infirmariae, ...: Archivio Secreto Vaticano – Congregazione Vescovi e Regolari, Malta: Visita Apostolica no. 51 Mgr. Petrus Dusina, 1575, ed. G. Aquilina and Stanley Fiorini (Malta, 2001), p. 151. This shows that the Italian auberge possessed some rooms above Santa Caterina. It does not show that the Italian langue had a small hospital; or that such a hospital was in a large hall which was in the Italian auberge; or that an Italian hospital had a prud’homme; or that his residence was adjacent to any auberge: contra P. Cassar, in Birgu, ed. Bugeja, p. 330, and others.

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England;160 it too could well have been built as an auberge. The two most impressive buildings of the auberge type are on the north side of Hilda Tabone Street. One is a fine palace with large interior rooms and high ceilings on its upper storey, and with an impressive façade with Melitan mouldings.161 It once had what was apparently either a lily or a dolphin on the ceiling of its entrance hall.162 At Rhodes the Auberge of Provence possibly had three fleurs de lys on its façade;163 a lily might have represented either France, Provence or Auvergne, while a dolphin indicated Auvergne. Since the brethren of the French langue were probably less rich and less numerous on Malta than those of Auvergne and Provence,164 it is uncertain to which langue this auberge might have belonged. The house immediately to the west of this palace was of the same type, though less grand, and may well have housed another auberge.165 These problems require further research. Giorgio Vasari and the “ingegniere” Pichino Maestro Pichino, the Florentine who advised on fortifications in Malta and Tripoli between 1533, when he was described as magister Pichino Florentinus sallariatus pro[to]magister inzigner sacre religionis , and 1535, was mentioned on Malta several times but never with a Christian name;166 possibly he was “Piccino”, the “small one”. The Florentine fortifications expert, Bernardo di Francesco di Puccini or Puccino, was only eleven years old in 1532,167 while Fr. Giovanni Battista di Pietro Puccini was apparently a Hospitaller knight and governer of Viterbo while the Order was based there.168 However, the transition from Puccino to Pichino would be difficult to explain, and a member of a distinguished family would scarcely have served as a salaried engineer entitled maestro.

160 Birgu, ed. Bugeja, plates 3.9, 7.7, 10.2, 12.6; façade and plan in figs 12.2ab. Entirely without documentation, Darmanin Demajo, “Note intorno”, 220, places the English auberge, whether purchased or purpose-built, at the corner of Majjstral Street and Britannia (now Hilda Tabone) Street, apparently alluding to the building, which is not at a corner, but is wrongly accepted as the English auberge. 161 Birgu, ed. Bugeja, plates 3.1, 5.12. 12.1; façade and plan, ibid., fig. 12.1ab. 162 G. Darmanin Demajo, “L’Albergia di Francia e la Chiesa della Madonna di Liesse”, Archivio Storico di Malta 2 (1931), 60. 163 Gabriel, La Cité de Rhodes, 2: 61–62, plate XIX (1). 164 Judging only by incomplete statistics for 1513 and 1522 in Bosio, 2: 610, 640–41. 165 Façade in Birgu, ed. Bugeja, fig. 12.3. An unpublished study of this building by Paul Saliba prepared for the present author in 1993 shows that five modern properties once constituted a single unit, presumably an auberge, which had apparently adapted an earlier building and was built above a large cistern; a basement room was floored with sawn circular sections of an ancient column set in pink concrete; there was a rear façade on Triq Antika. 166 Above, pp. 127–28. 167 D. Lambertini, Il Principe Difeso: Vita e Opere di Bernardo Puccini (Florence, 1990), p. 33. 168 Details ibid., pp. 23–24, 29, following L. Passerini, in A. Ademollo, Marietta de’ Ricci ovvero Firenze al Tempo dell’Assedio, vol. 1, 2nd ed. (Florence, 1845), p. 299, placing his death in 1527.

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Francesco da Sangallo (1404–80)

Giuliano = Bartolomea (1445–1516)

Francesco di Giuliano (1494–1576) Fig. 2

Antonio il Vecchio (1455–1534)

Maddalena

Smeralda = Bartolomeo Cordini

Antonio il Giovane (1484–1546)

Simplified hypothetical genealogical table of the Sangallo family

Pichino has been linked to the extensive Florentine clan of the Sangallo (Fig. 2). Alison Hoppen suggested that Picconi was the family name of Antonio da Sangallo il Giovane,169 and Lorenzo Schiavone considered Pichino to be the son of Bartolomeo Picconi di Mugello and his wife Smeralda, the sister of Antonio il Vecchio da Sangallo; Schiavone also claimed, without evidence, that Pichino was summoned back from Malta to Italy by Pope Paul III, who made him architect of all the papal works.170 These suggestions derive from an error of Giorgio Vasari. The children of the old Francesco Giamberti da Sangallo (1404–80) were Giuliano (1445–1516), his brother Antonio il Vecchio (1455–1534) and their sisters Maddalena and Smeralda, this last the mother of Antonio il Giovane (1484–1546). Giuliano’s son Francesco (1494–1576) was known to Vasari, who dedicated a brief Vita to him.171 Vasari also said that Antonio il Giovane’s father, presumably a husband of Smeralda, was Bartolomeo Picconi di Mugello, a bottaio or cooper.172 Smeralda actually married a Bartolomeo Cordini or possibly Cordiani, who belonged to a family from Mugello.173 Possibly she also had another husband or perhaps Antonio il Giovane was an illegitimate son. It is also possible that Vasari mixed up the names Picconi and Cordini. It has been accepted that he confused Smeralda with her brother Giuliano and that the latter had 169

Hoppen, Fortification of Malta, p. 34, n. 19. Schiavone, Pietrino del Ponte, p. 191, n. 3. 171 Giorgio Vasari, Le Vite de più Eccellenti Pittori, Scultori ed Architettori, ed. G. Milanesi, (Florence, 1885), 7:624. Charles Hope most kindly provided advice on Vasari’s methods. 172 Ibid., 5:448. 173 G. Giovannoni, Antonio da Sangallo il Giovane (Rome, 1959), 1: 84–89. An Antonio Cordini (Antonio da Sangallo il Giovane) was the son of Bartolomeo di Antonio di Meo bottaio and of Smeralda Giamberti da Sangallo: A. Bruschi, “Cordini, Antonio”, in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani 29 (1983), p. 3. Giovanni Battista da Sangallo was also a son of Bartolomeo and Smeralda: P. Pagliara, “Cordini, Giovanni Battista”, in ibid., p. 23. 170

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a wife called Bartolomea Picconi.174 If that were the case, Francesco di Giuliano could have been Bartolomea’s son, as could his brother Filippo, who is documented only once in 1568.175 This notion derived from a text showing the wife of Giuliano di Francesco di Bartolo legnaiuolo as Mea sua donna, that is a Bartolomea to whom no family name was given.176 That point was associated with the modern claim that in 1487 and 1488 Giuliano da Sangallo was working at Perugia on a choir stall “with the help of his brother Antonio and of Bartolomeo di Piero (Picconi)”.177 The documents purportedly showing this Bartolomeo as Giuliano’s brother-in-law and as a legnaiuolo or carpenter were in the old “Archivio di San Piero, Libro Maestro segn. di n. 6, c. 123 e 173”, with further references at cc. 160, 167 and 184; they are now in the Archivio di Stato at Perugia in the Libri Economici no. 5 (1487–90) of the monastery of San Pietro at Perugia. Folios 122v and 123r (1487) actually speak of a m[astr]o Bartholomeo who was a compagno of Giuliano da Sangallo; folio 172v (1488) mentions a mastro Bartholomeo, suo compagno, that is a companion of Giuliano da Sangallo; and f. 167r (1488) mentions m[astr]o Bartholomeo pe[n]tor[e]. “Picconi” was evidently an error for “pentore” or painter.178 It is conceivable that Giuliano da Sangallo had another wife who was not Bartolomea but whose family name was Pichino, and that Vasari muddled up both the form of the name and its owner. But that would not explain why Francesco would, hypothetically, have used his mother’s name on Malta, and since Francesco di Giuliano, a notable military engineer, was working at Florence in 1533179 and was from October 1533 until late 1534 employed at Loreto, he could scarcely have been on Malta then. Confusingly, furthermore, numerous Sangallo artists were named Francesco. Vasari mentioned a youthful son of Giuliano who was d’assai tenera età in 1516;180 Francesco di Giuliano was then about twenty-three, but this could perhaps have been his brother Filippo whose age is unknown. Vasari wrote of a Giovan Francesco da Sangallo whom he said died in 1530;181 that could have been Gian Francesco, the son of Giuliano’s sister Maddalena.182 Vasari also said that in about 1533 and 1534, when Francesco di Giuliano was about thirty-nine or forty, there was a “young” Francesco da Sangallo allora giovane whom he also called Francesco giovane di San Gallo working at Loreto;183 that might have been Smeralda’s son

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For example, among many authors, by Giovannoni, Antonio da Sangallo, 1: 86. Ibid., 1: 100. 176 C. von Fabriczy, “Giuliano da Sangallo”, Jahrbuch der königlich preussischen Kunstsammlungen 23 (1902), Beiheft, 14. 177 Anon., “Maestri di Lavori di Legname in Perugia nei Secoli XV e XVI”, Giornale di Erudizione Artistica, vol. 1 (Perugia, 1872), p. 70. 178 Francesco Tommasi very kindly reported on these documents. 179 Giovannoni, Antonio da Sangallo, 1:99. 180 Vasari, Le Vite de più Eccellenti Pittori, 4:287. 181 Ibid., 6:435. 182 Giovannoni, Antonio da Sangallo, 1:88. 183 Vasari, Le Vite de più Eccellenti Pittori, 4:518; 5:462; 6:63, 302. 175

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Francesco who was also known as Giovanni Battista.184 Vasari was not confusing Francesco di Giuliano with a younger brother, who would in any case scarcely have had the same name, because payments at Loreto between 1531 and July 1533 were made to an unidentified Francesco di Vicenzo da Sangallo who was probably there until 1534.185 No Vicenzo di Sangallo or Francesco di Vicenzo is otherwise known. It seems that Francesco di Giuliano did not sign himself as di Giuliano until after 1534,186 but on the other hand, the work at Loreto has been attributed on stylistic grounds possibly to Francesco di Giuliano.187 The latter was apparently not on Malta from 1533 to 1535 and, even supposing that his father Giuliano had a wife called Pichino rather than Picconi, it seems unlikely that one of her two sons, or of her son Francesco’s two sons Alberto and Clemente, or some other unknown son, grandson or nephew, would have worked in Malta under her name. Vasari was often inaccurate and the Hospitallers’ ingegniere remains unidentified. Texts 22 December 1530: the representatives of the two langues of Castile and Aragon agree to divide their joint auberge at Birgu and its belongings: Malta, Cod. 414, fols 179v–80.188 Oy jueves a veynte e dos dias del mes de deziembre de mil e quinientos e trenta años con licentia de mons. rrmo. frey Philippo de Villers Lileadam dignissimo sr. gran maestre del hospital e sacra religion de San Juan de Hierusalen y Conuento de Malta se tuuieron las uenerabiles lenguas de Spagna presidentes e lugares tenientes d’ellas los muy nobles y magnificos señores frey Anton de Brito por la venerable lengua de Castilla e Portugal lugar teniente de Canciller e frey Guillem Ramon Desbrull comendador de Barbens por la venerable lengua de Aragon Cathaluña e Nauarra, en las quales dichas lenguas de comun accordio e conformidat platicaron en separar en dos Alberges las dichas lenguas e visto los señores caualleros capellanes sargentes residentes enel Aluerge, o que podrian residir e no poder ser tratados con aquella comoditad que lo seran seyendo separados en dos e porque la tal separacion e apartamiento en dos Aluerges, a todos es agradable, cada uno por si e por todos 184

Giovannoni, Antonio da Sangallo, 1:88. K. Weil-Garris, The Santa Casa di Loreto: Problems in Cinquecento Sculpture, vol. 1 (New York, 1977), pp. 84–87. 186 Ibid., 1:255. 187 Ibid., 2:255–256. 188 This act was confirmed by the Master and Council on 23 December 1530: Malta, Cod. 414, fols 179–80. Contractions, spellings and punctuation present problems. The two documents are interesting since one recorded a compromise between brethren whose mother languages included Catalan, Aragonese and Portuguese, while the second was perhaps drawn up by a Portuguese writing in Castilian; both texts were registered in copy by scribes who were probably Sicilian or Italian. 185

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aquellos delas lenguas cuyos procuradores son unamine de oy en adelante con la dicha licençia hazen la separacion e apartamiento de Alberges assi como lo tienen las otras lenguas, e supplican a mons. rrmo. e alos señores de su Consejo ordinario, o complido confirmen e aprueuen la tal separacion y apartamiento delos dichos dos Aluerges, los quales ayan de tener esta orden. Los r.dos señores Canciller o sus lugares tenientes que son o seran tengan en su Aluerge todos los señores del habito de Castilla e Portugal, e los r.dos. s.res Traper o sus lugares tenientes que son o seran tengan en su Aluerge todos los señores del habito de Aragon Cathaluña e Nauarra segun se obserua la consuetud enlos otros Aluerges de nuestra sacra religion, E porque conste que con toda familiaridat e vera hermandad hazemos esta dicha separacion y apartamiento de dos Aluerges para la prouision de cada uno d’ellos queremos que los bienes muebles que al presente se hallan enlas dichas dos lenguas que son oro, plata, moneda, joyas, debitos pertenescientes alas dichas lenguas, ropa de paño, de lino, e cosas de staño cobre hyerro bronzo compreso todo seruicio de cozina e botelleria, y palacio se parta por medio poniendo las dos lenguas cada una por su parte dos caualleros e no concertandose los quatro enla particion delos bienes de comun accordio puedan eligir della lengua qual les parescera un cauallero o otra qualquier persona que a ellos bien uisto les fuere la qual declare la differentia que podran tener porque amigablemente se concluya. E para que esta separacion sea firme e sin contradicion alguna reuocamos y escancellamos y annullamos qualesquier escrituras leteras bullas priuillegios obligaciones hechas por qualquier uia o modo, y por nosotros y por todos aquellos cuyos procuradores somos declaramos unanime que por agora ni por nengun tiempo non reclamaremos ni nos fauorescemos de nengun acto o escritura que fauorescer nos pudiesse para contradezir esta separacion e apartamiento que agora hazemos y en especial renunciamos qualquier fauor de stablimento consuetudines vsos e naturas de nuestra religion. Con la dicha licentia ponemos todos las manos sobre los habitos e juramos que en nengun tiempo yremos contra lo en esta escritura concluso. E supplicamos humilmente otra vez a mons. rrmo. e señores de su consejo hordinario o complido que por sententia o bulla plumbea a pedimiento nuestro vista esta nuestra escritura den acordio y la confirmen e aprueuen para que enel reg[ist]ro de cancilleria se pueda hallar en todo tiempo, y porque en esta separacion seria prolixidat sotta escriuerse todos se escriuiran los s.res lugares tenientes dichos e los caualleros que las lenguas señalaron, Los que sotta escriuieron esta escritura fue el rdo. sr. fray Anton de Brito lugarteniente de Canciller y el rdo. sr. fray Guillem Raymon Desbrull lugar teniente de Traper y fray Tristan de Amaral y fray Sancho Nuñez dell’Aguila procuradores della lengua de Castilla e Portugal, y fray Juan de Foxa y fray Juan de Funis procuradores de Aragon, Cathaluña e Nauarra.

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11 March 1539: the Master of the Hospital and the Council confirm a petition from Fr. Diogo Peres de Malfreire for the foundation of masses at the church of Saint Julian on the shore opposite Birgu, which he had rebuilt: Malta, Cod. 417, fols 174v–75. Frater Johannes de Homedes etc. et nos bajuliui priores etc. religioso etc. fratri Didaco de Malfreire nostre dicte domus prioratus Portugallie armorum seruienti salutem etc. preclara uirtutum tuarum merita compositi que tui mores et laudabilia obsequia que religioni nostre prestitisti et que in dies prestare non desinis promerentur et nos inducunt ut honestis tuis uotis presertim in his que augmentum diuini cultus respiciunt fauorabiliter annuamus supplicationem siquidem et petitionem nobis obtulisti et humiliter presentasti tenoris sequentis: Ill.mo y r.mo mons.or sacro y general capitulo el humilde religioso criado y seruidor muy uerdadero de su Ill.ma s.a fray Diego Perez de Malfreyre seruente de su sacra religion del glorioso San Juan baptista del priorado de Portugal humilmente supplica a su Ill.ma. s.a. y al sacro y general capitulo que por quanto Christo nos encomendo las siete obras de misericordia y entre ellas sea vna y delas mas principales el culto diuino y onrra de dios que no solamente se estiende a los proximos vivos189 empero a las animas del purgatorio ser aliuiadas delas penas en que estan y la limosna mas accepta a dios para ello sea el sanctissimo sacramento precio de nuestra redemption habundantissimo mouido con este zelo y deuocion archedificado vna ygl[es]ia en esta su isola de Malta junto al su molino de uiento la qual antiguamente era ya a honrra de señor Sant Juliam y de uergono190 in otro tiempo in aquel lugar donde solia ser alabado e inuocado agora estar desierto y de arsinales brutos hollado o quesido poner diligentia en que fuesse otra uez en lo que primero dedicado: a honrra y alabança de dios: So inuocation del dicho glorioso sancto y de señor San Joam baptista nuestro glorioso patron y de señor sant Sebastiam y de señor Sant Rocho y para que esta deuotion fuesse mas ampliada y el seruicio de dios mas augmentado a supp[lica]do a su santidad concediesse indulgentias algunas fiestas del añno las quales le an enbiado y de Rroma y tiene en su poder para cinco fiestas perpetuamente cada un anno que son las quatro arriba nombradas y el dia de pascua de rresurrection: empero porque dize dios que quiere mas la obidentia que no el sacrificio como a verdadero y obediente religioso supp[li]ca a su Ill.ma s.a y al sacro capitulo le quieran hazer vid dele dar licencia para fundar diez y siete missas vna cada vn mes y cinco enlas cinco festiuidades delas yndulgentias suso dichas a yntencion que nuestro señor aya misericordia delos pecadores y saque de penas las almas de purgatorio y siempre en todas las missas se haga particular memoria dela uida y estado de nuestra religion la qual nuestro señor quiera acrecescar imperpetuum amen. Quapropter premissorum intuitu suplicationibus tuis inclinati omnia et singula et preinserta tua petitione contenta de 189 190

MS: binos. MS: deuer gino.

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nostra certa scientia auctoritate et decreto presentis generalis capituli tibi harum serie concedimus et permittimus et fundandi dictas missas decem et septem anno quolibet in ecclesia sancti Juliani prope molendinum venti huius insule Melitensis quam in propiis sumptibus reparauisti ac reedificauisti licentiam tibi damus et liberaliter impartimur precipientes vniuersis et singulis dicte domus nostre fratribus quacumque auctoritate dignitate officioque fungentibus in uirtute sancte obedientie ne contra presentes nostra litteras aliquatenus facere uel uenire presumant sed eas studeant inuiolabiliter obseruare. In cuius rei testimonium bulla nostra comunis etc. Datum Melite etc. durante nostro generale capitulo die xj.ma mensis martij .M.D. xxxviij Ab Incarnatione Dominica.

Islam and the Crusades in History and Imagination, 8 November 1898–11 September 20011 Jonathan Riley-Smith Emmanuel College, Cambridge A long tract justifying the atrocity of 11 September 2001 was published a year later. Addressed to those Muslims who had been critical of the massacre of innocent civilians in New York, it was entitled The Reality of the New Crusaders War and its author, one of Usamah bin Laden’s lieutenants, used as nom de plume “Saladin, Defeater of the Crusaders”.2 Throughout, the tract expressed a historical vision which is an article of faith to many Muslims and has helped to provide moral justification for the actions of both Arab Nationalists and radical Islamists. It is likely to strike a chord with many in the Islamic world for a long time to come, although few in the West even acknowledge its existence. In the autumn of 1898 Kaiser Wilhelm II of Germany visited the Levant on what the Berlin critic Alfred Kerr sardonically described as “a crusade in comfort”. Dressed in a white uniform he had designed himself, embellished with a helmet surmounted by a gold eagle, to which he had added “a garment recalling in some measure his character as a pilgrim, a white silk dust dress, so fashioned as to resemble a palmer’s cowl”, he broke with convention by riding into Jerusalem through a specially prepared breach in the walls. He was “attended by a host of knightly figures arrayed in the insignia and flowing mantles of the (military) order of St John”. His visit recalled not only that made 669 years before by the German emperor Frederick II, who had deliberately evoked the legend of the last Christian emperor enthroned in Jerusalem before Doomsday, but also the crusades, or at least a Protestant version of them. Wearing the white mantle of a Teutonic knight and pushing “to its extreme the arabico-medieval fantasy . . . in medieval garb in front with a Lohengrin breastplate and in Arab dress behind”, he attended the dedication of the Lutheran church of the Redeemer, which now overshadowed the church of the Holy Sepulchre nearby. He had also acquired land on Mount Sion on which to erect the equally ostentatious German Catholic abbey of the Dormition and he sponsored the building of a German

1

This paper is based on a lecture delivered at The Old Dominion University, Norfolk, Virginia, USA on 12 September 2002. I am grateful to The Old Dominion University for inviting me to speak and for giving permission for the paper to be published. 2 The author was Ramzi bin al-Shibh. Extracts in translation were published on the web-site of The Sunday Times (London) on 8 September 2002.

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hospice on the Mount of Olives, in the chapel of which he and his wife were portrayed, surrounded by eight crusader kings.3 On 8 November he laid a satin flag and a wreath, with an inscription dedicated to “the Hero Sultan Saladin”, on Saladin’s delapidated tomb in Damascus and at a banquet afterwards he expressed his delight at treading the same soil as Saladin, “one of the most chivalrous rulers in history”, who, he added, had been “a knight without fear or blame (sans peur et sans reproche), who often had to teach his adversaries the true nature of chivalry”. He was to pay for the restoration of Saladin’s mausoleum and the construction of a very un-Islamic marble tomb-chest, on which rested another wreath, this time bronze gilt and inscribed “From one great emperor to another”.4 In this self-important and theatrical manner the kaiser reintroduced the Muslims in the Levant to Saladin, who had been almost forgotten by them, being overshadowed in collective memory by his predecessor Nur ad-Din, who had encouraged religious reform and had united the local Muslim principalities against the crusaders, and the Mamluk sultan Baybars, a better general and more effective strategist, who had reigned a century later and had done much to bring the Christian settlements in the Levant to an end.5 Saladin’s relative obscurity was understandable. He was a Kurd. He had an attractive, if ruthless, personality, but his commitment to his religion had been doubtful and he had often been in trouble with the caliph in Baghdad. He had not been a particularly successful general, although he had achieved one stunning victory which he had followed up by reoccupying Jerusalem. He was a shrewd and ambitious politician, but the quasi-empire built up by him had lasted less than seventy years after his death.6 In medieval Europe, however, he had gained legendary status as a non-Christian paladin of chivalry and it was this western

3

The Times (London), 1 and 16 November 1898; Georges Gaulis, La ruine d’une empire. Abd-ulHamid, ses amis et ses peuples (Paris, 1913), pp. 163–79 (who commented that in the circumstances the kaiser’s dress struck him as being “a little too theatrical”); Elizabeth Siberry, The New Crusaders. Images of the Crusades in the 19th and Early 20th Centuries (Aldershot, 2000), p. 67 (hereafter cited as Siberry); William Treloar, With the Kaiser in the East, 1898 (London, 1915), p. 22. See also Giles MacDonogh, The Last Kaiser. William the Impetuous (London, 2000), p. 237; Alan Palmer, The Kaiser. Warlord of the Second Reich (London, 1978), pp. 91–92. 4 The Times, 10 November 1898; Werner Ende, “Wer ist ein Glaubensheld, wer ist ein Ketzer”, Die Welt des Islams NS 23 (1984), pp. 79–84; Gaulis, La ruine, pp. 183–88; Carole Hillenbrand, The Crusades. Islamic Perspectives (Edinburgh, 1999) p. 593; Siberry, p. 68; Treloar, With the Kaiser, p. 27. The wreath was brought to England by T. E. Lawrence and is now in the Imperial War Museum, London. 5 There were, however, signs of interest stirring. Namik Kemal had published a biography in Turkish in 1872 and a play by Najib Sulayman based on Sir Walter Scott’s The Talisman had been performed in Alexandria in 1895 and was published in 1898. Ende, “Glaubensheld”, pp. 80–81, 84; Hillenbrand, The Crusades. Islamic Perspectives, p. 593. 6 See Malcolm C. Lyons and David E. P. Jackson, Saladin. The politics of the Holy War (Cambridge, 1982).

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tradition7 which had been mined by the most influential of the nineteenth-century romantic writers, Sir Walter Scott. If there is a foundational text for the first of two popular European approaches to crusade history, which have coexisted with, and have sometimes impinged on, scholarship and have made a major contribution to the Muslim vision I am concerned with, it is Scott’s novel The Talisman (1825). At its heart is the story of a friendship between an apparently poor Scottish knight serving on the Third Crusade, who turns out to be a prince and wins the love of the lady he admires, and Saladin, who appears in a bewildering array of disguises, including that of a skilled physician who cures the king of England. I will not dwell on the details of the elaborate plot or describe the characters, except to say that they include a treacherous, smooth-tongued marquis, a demonic grand master of the Temple and a faithful hound. It is striking, however, that the Muslims are portrayed in a far better light than the crusaders, whose personalities range from the proud and deceitful to the brash, intemperate and childish. In his introduction to the novel Scott wrote that: the warlike character of Richard I (of England), wild and generous, a pattern of chivalry, with all its extravagant virtues and its no less absurd errors, was opposed to that of Saladin, in which the Christian and English monarch showed all the cruelty and violence of an Eastern Sultan; and Saladin, on the other hand displayed the deep policy and prudence of a European sovereign.8

By the time Scott was writing, a romantic penumbra had begun to envelope Europe’s crusading past, now that the movement was no more. Romance was fanned by the prevailing obsession for genealogy,9 by freemasonry and its supposed roots in the Templars,10 and by the continuing existence of the other great military orders, the Teutonic Order and the Hospital of St John of Jerusalem (now known as the Order of Malta). But the romantics were also the heirs of eighteenth-century European intellectual opinion, which had despised and derided the crusades. Luminaries of the Enlightenment – Voltaire and Diderot in France; Hume and Robertson in Scotland; Gibbon in England – had voiced in no uncertain terms their abhorrence of these “horrible wars”: “the most signal and durable monument of human folly that has yet appeared in any age or nation” and “the effects of the most absurd superstition”, which had “checked rather than forwarded the maturity of Europe”.11 Trenchant

7

Influencing, for example, Gotthold Ephraim Lessing’s sympathetic portrait of him in his play Nathan the Wise (1778). 8 Walter Scott, “The Talisman”, Tales of the Crusaders, 4 vols (Edinburgh, 1825); Siberry, pp. 117–18. 9 Siberry, pp. 39–63. 10 Peter Partner, The Murdered Magicians. The Templars and their Myth (Oxford, 1982), passim. 11 See Giles Constable, “The Historiography of the Crusades”, The Crusades from the Perspective of Byzantium and the Muslim World, ed. Angeliki E. Laiou and Roy P. Mottahedeh (Washington, DC, 2001), p. 8; Siberry, pp. 1–4.

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views of this kind continued to be expressed in the early nineteenth century – for the historian Charles Mills “the floodgates of fanaticism were unlocked for the savage and iniquitous purpose of extermination” and “the spirit of crusading, composed as it was of superstition and military ardour, was hostile to the advancement of knowledge and liberty”12 – and Scott represented a school of thought which, under the influence of the Enlightenment, treated the subject at the same time both romantically and critically; its disapproval was reinforced by a Protestant conviction that crusading was yet another expression of Catholic bigotry and cruelty.13 It was not hard, therefore, to portray the crusaders as brave and glamorous but backward and unenlightened, crudely assailing the more sophisticated and civilized Muslims. It need hardly be said that the picture that resulted was about as far from reality as it is possible to get. Leaving aside the actual state of cultural development in western Europe and the Near East in the twelfth century – and they were not nearly as far apart as the romantics supposed – any reading of history which placed the crusaders in one context – the central Middle Ages – and their opponents in another – the nineteenth century – was wholly anachronistic. Under his fauxoriental clothing Scott’s Saladin was patently a modern liberal European gentleman, beside whom medieval westerners would always have made a poor showing. Nevertheless, The Talisman was Scott’s most popular crusade novel after Ivanhoe. It was dramatized on many occasions and was translated into many European languages. It inspired painters in Britain, France and Italy.14 And its portrayal of Saladin influenced generations of writers and politicians, including the kaiser himself.15 To Barbara Hutton in 1869, Saladin might be called the hero of the Third Crusade, as Godfrey of Bouillon was of the First. He was zealous as a Mussulman, and hated the Christians, but when they were suppliants and at his mercy, he was never cruel or revengeful. He had certainly a mind above and beyond the age he lived in.16

William Ewart Gladstone in 1876, enraged by atrocities committed by the Turks in Bulgaria, compared them unfavourably to “the chivalrous Saladins of Syria”.17 Saladin’s ruinous tomb in Damascus began to feature on European sight-seeing 12 Charles Mills, The History of the Crusades for the Recovery and Possession of the Holy Land, 2 vols (London, 1820), 2: 333, 368. Christopher Tyerman (The Invention of the Crusades, Basingstoke, 1998, p. 115) has drawn attention to the ambivalences in Mills’s attitude. See also Siberry, p. 12. 13 See Siberry, pp. 114–15. 14 Ibid., pp. 125–28. 15 As a child he had been given Scott’s poetry to read. John C. G. Röhl, Young Wilhelm: the Kaiser’s Early Life, 1859–1888 (Cambridge, 1998), p. 163. 16 Cited by Siberry, p. 151. 17 Norman Daniel, Islam, Europe and Empire (Edinburgh, 1966), p. 378. A remarkable example of Saladin’s reputation in England is The New Crusade. A Vision and a Warning (London, 1882), a pamphlet ferociously, and very amusingly, attacking the Salvation Army, which, it was argued, was planning to set up a theocratic tyranny. The author went under the nom de plume of “Saladin”.

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tours – the prince of Wales visited it in 186218 – but it took the kaiser’s overblown homage to bring him fully to public attention in the Levant. A year later the Egyptian poet Ahmad Shawqi asked how it could be that Saladin’s greatness had been ignored by Muslim writers until they had been reminded of it by Kaiser Wilhelm.19 The potency of the critically romantic approach is demonstrated by the way it continues to suffuse European and American writing on the crusades, scholarly as well as popular. The most admired history in English, that by Sir Steven Runciman which appeared in the early 1950s, is almost what Scott would have written had he been more knowledgeable. In it the crusaders are characterized as courageous and colourful, but at the same time not very reflective. And Scott, like Runciman a Lowland Calvinist, could himself have written the peroration with which it famously ends.20 If Scott provides one point of departure for the mélange of influences on the kaiser in 1898, another – the imperialistic – originated in the Histoire des croisades (1812–22) of the French royalist Joseph François Michaud, which went through four editions under the Restoration and a further five under the July Monarchy. Michaud, together with his German contemporary Friedrich Wilken,21 wrote the first in a line of great multi-volume histories of the movement. Wilken is now more admired, but Michaud’s epic work was the more influential at the time. It is imbued with a passionate nationalism. Michaud believed that crusading enriched all the European nations engaged in it. “Names made famous by this war are still today objects of pride to families and country! The most positive of the results of the First Crusade is the glory of our fathers, this glory which is also of real benefit to a nation.”22 He went further and maintained that of all European countries France had benefited the most. “France would one day become the model and centre of European civilization. The holy wars contributed much to this happy development and one can perceive this from the First Crusade onwards.”23 The nationalist euphoria generated by Michaud found its most remarkable expression in the Salles 18

Siberry, p. 65. Ende, “Glaubensheld”, p. 84; Hillenbrand, The Crusades. Islamic Perspectives, pp. 593–94. 20 “There was so much courage and so little honour, so much devotion and so little understanding. High ideals were besmirched by cruelty and greed, enterprise and endurance by a blind and narrow selfrighteousness; and the Holy War itself was nothing more than a long act of intolerance in the name of God, which is a sin against the Holy Ghost.” Steven Runciman, A History of the Crusades, 3 vols (Cambridge, 1951–54), 3:480. In 1901 Francis Warre Cornish similarly observed in the crusaders “the virtues and vices of Homeric heroes, not of Christian paladins”. Siberry, p. 34. 21 Friedrich Wilken, Geschichte der Kreuzzüge, 7 vols in 8 parts (Leipzig, 1807–32). 22 Joseph François Michaud, Histoire des croisades, 7 vols (Paris, 1812–22). References here are to the 4th ed., 6 vols (Paris, 1825–29), 1:510–11 (and see also p. 6); Siberry, p. 52. 23 Michaud, Histoire, 1:524. See Kim Munholland, “Michaud’s History of the Crusades and the French Crusade in Algeria under Louis Philippe”, The Popularization of Images, ed. Petra tenDoesschate Chu and Gabriel P. Weisberg (Princeton, 1994), pp. 146–51. 19

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des Croisades in the Château of Versaille. These formed part of King Louis Philippe’s scheme of decoration for the palace, which was to become a museum dedicated to the glories of France. The five rooms contained over 120 paintings illustrating scenes from crusading history, of which the most famous is Eugène Delacroix’s Entry of the Crusaders into Constantinople on the Fourth Crusade (now in the Louvre). They were also decorated with the coats-of-arms of families with crusading traditions. There was fierce competition among French nobles to be included. When the gallery opened in 1840 316 families were represented, including 60 which still had living descendants, but a storm of protest was whipped up by others, which demanded inclusion and produced documents, many of them forged, attesting to crusading ancestry. The rooms had to be closed and were only reopened in 1843 after further coats of arms had been added.24 The French were the first to describe their contemporary imperialist ventures in crusading terms. Their occupation of Algeria in 1830 was compared to St Louis’s descent on Tunis in 1270 and in an abridged edition of Michaud’s Histoire published in 1838 his collaborator Jean-Joseph Poujoulat averred that “the conquest of Algiers in 1830 and our recent expeditions in Africa are nothing other than crusades”.25 Two rooms at Versailles were dedicated to critical moments in the Algerian campaign, and on seeing Horace Vernet’s painting of the French assault on Constantine in 1837 a contemporary exclaimed: We find there again, after an interval of five hundred years, the French nation fertilizing with its blood the burning plains studded with the tents of Islam. These men are the heirs of Charles Martel, Godfrey of Bouillon, Robert Guiscard and Philip Augustus, resuming the unfinished labours of their ancestors. Missionaries and warriors, they every day extend the boundaries of Christendom.26

French knights of Malta, whose minds had been awash with a half-baked scheme to assist Greek rebels against the Turks and recover the island of Rhodes for their Order, proposed that they be given Algeria to manage as an order-state.27 In the 1850s French military campaigns in southeast Asia were bathed in crusading rhetoric, and when the government of Napoleon III decide to intervene in Lebanon on behalf of the Maronites, there was talk of actually proclaiming one. In 1860 Napoleon addressed the French troops leaving for the Levant in Michaud-like

24

Siberry, pp. 51–53, 169–70, 208–11; David Abulafia, “Invented Italians in the Courtois Charters”, Crusade and Settlement, ed. Peter W. Edbury (Cardiff, 1985), pp. 135–43. 25 Munholland, “Michaud’s History”, p. 154; Adam Knobler, “Saint Louis and French Political Culture”, Medievalism in Europe II. Studies in Medievalism, ed. Leslie J. Workman and Kathleen Verduin, 8 (Cambridge, 1996), pp. 159–61. 26 Munholland, “Michaud’s History”, pp. 163–64; Siberry, p. 82. See the perceptive words of Edward Said, Orientalism (1978, repr. with new afterword, London, 1995), pp. 169–70. 27 Jonathan S. C. Riley-Smith, “The Order of St John in England, 1827–1858”, The Military Orders. Fighting for the Faith and Caring for the Sick, ed. Malcolm Barber (Aldershot, 1994), pp. 122–24.

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language: “You are leaving for Syria . . . On that distant soil, rich in great memories ... you will show yourselves to be the worthy descendants of those heroes who carried the banner of Christ gloriously in that land.”28 Most extraordinary of all was the career of Charles-Martial Allemand-Lavigerie, archbishop of Algiers from 1867 and cardinal from 1882 until his death ten years later, whose mind was saturated with crusading imagery. In the late 1870s he even drew up a Rule for a new military order which was to operate in North Africa, and he proposed sending members of the surviving military orders – elderly gentlemen who now hardly qualified as warriors – to protect Catholic missionaries in East Africa.29 France was not the only country to develop a myth of national crusading history and to associate it with the imperialist present. The invented state of Belgium adopted Godfrey of Bouillon.30 Norwegian nationalists looked to the crusading king Sigurd.31 Germany had the eight royal crusaders already mentioned, above all Frederick Barbarossa.32 Spain had the glories of the Reconquest, a national war of liberation fought against the Moors, with heroes like San Fernando III of Castile; its invasion of Morocco in the 1850s was also described as a crusade.33 England had Richard Coeur de Lion. Feelings were running so high over the Ottomans’ treatment of the Bulgarians in 1876 that the author of a pamphlet written for English Catholics had to explain why a crusade could not be launched against the Turks.34 Thirty-six years earlier Sir Richard Hillary, an enthusiastic member of the English Order of St John, born out of the eastern Mediterranean schemes of the French knights of Malta and their plan to raise an expeditionary force in Britain, published an impractical project for the liberation of the Holy Land and its government by the Order of Malta.35 The English Order of St John became an Order of the British crown in 1888 and it spread rapidly throughout the empire, propagating a Church-of-England, sanitized but imperialist vision of the crusades.36 The idea of the crusade as an instrument of nationalism and imperialism was reinforced by the First World War and its aftermath. The war itself generated crusading rhetoric in many of the countries involved,37 but more importantly a British army invaded Palestine and in the dismemberment of the Ottoman empire which followed – leading indirectly to the abolition of the caliphate in 1924 – Britain 28

Knobler, “Saint Louis”, pp. 163–64. Ibid., pp. 165–66; Daniel, Islam, Europe and Empire, pp. 306–7. 30 Siberry, p. 53. 31 Ibid., pp. 53–54. 32 Ibid., p. 169. Although the Germans were often inclined to dwell on the Baltic crusades and the northern wars of the Teutonic Order against Pagan Lithuanians and Orthodox Russians. 33 Knobler, “Saint Louis”, p. 164. 34 Daniel, Islam, Europe and Empire, p. 345. 35 Siberry, pp. 76–82, 203–7. 36 Jonathan S. C. Riley-Smith, Hospitallers. The History of the Order of St John (London and Rio Grande, 1999), pp. 135–36. 37 Siberry, pp. 87–103. 29

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and France occupied Palestine, and Syria and Lebanon under mandate from the League of Nations. The British commander, General Allenby, in a studied rebuke to the kaiser, entered Jerusalem on foot in December 1917, and although he never made the remark “today the wars of the crusaders are ended” attributed to him – indeed steps were taken to avoid giving offence, particularly as Muslims were serving with the British forces – the magazine Punch published a cartoon entitled “The Last Crusade”, which had Richard Coeur de Lion gazing at Jerusalem from a distance with the caption: “At last my dream come true”.38 On arriving in Damascus in 1920 the first French military governor of Syria, General Henri Gouraud, was heard to say, “Behold, Saladin, we have returned.”39 The establishment of the French mandate generated a wave of French historical litterature, one theme of which was that the achievements of the crusaders had provided the first chapter in a history which had culminated in modern imperialism.40 Jean Longnon wrote that: “The name of Frank has remained (in the Levant) a symbol of nobility, courage and generosity .. . and if our country has been called on to receive the protectorate of Syria, this is a result of that influence.”41 Referring to the end of the medieval Latin settlements in Palestine and Syria, René Grousset concluded his three-volume Histoire des croisades (1934–36) with the words: “The Templars only held until 1303 the islet of Ruad, south of Tortosa, from where one day – in 1914 – the ‘Franks’ would again set foot in Syria.”42 The imperialists reversed the moral judgements of the critical romantics. For the former, the crusaders were a source of nationalistic pride. Their achievements were now being replicated, and backward Muslim societies were going to benefit from Christian rule. François René de Chateaubriand, Michaud’s friend and another Frenchman for whom the history of the crusades recalled national glory, was of the opinion that their true purpose had been the destruction of an Islam that was an enemy of civilization, since it knew nothing of liberty: an idea, Edward Said has written, that acquired “an almost unbearable, next to mindless, authority in European writing”.43 The flavour of positive imperialism was particularly apparent in Sir Claude Conder’s The Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem (1897): “The Crusades were no wild raids on Palestine resulting only in misery and destruction. The 38

Hillenbrand, The Crusades. Islamic Perspectives, p. 604; Siberry, pp. 95–96. Knobler, “Saint Louis”, p. 168. 40 See Emanuel Sivan, “Modern Arab Historiography of the Crusades”, Asian and African Studies 8 (1972), p. 117; and see the same author’s Mythes politiques arabes, trans. Nicolas Weill (Paris, 1955). 41 Jean Longnon, Les français d’Outremer au moyen-âge (Paris, 1929), pp. 333–34. 42 René Grousset, Histoire des croisades, 3 vols (Paris, 1934–36), 3:763. American scholars, who tended to attach themselves to the German traditions established by Wilken, disapproved of Grousset. Hans Mayer, “America and the Crusades”, Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society 125 (1981), pp. 41–42. 43 Said, Orientalism, pp. 171–72. For Chateaubriand, see Siberry, pp. 68–69. 39

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kingdom of Jerusalem was the model of just and moderate rule, such as we boast to have given to India, under somewhat similar conditions.”44 And Conder’s publisher, the Palestine Exploration Fund, advertised his book by recalling that: “The condition of the Orientals [is] almost the same as that when Europe intervened in the Eastern question in the days of Godfrey of Bouillon and of King Richard Lionheart.”45 This folie de grandeur was unhistorical and woolly-minded, not least because European aggrandizement was being clothed inappropriately in crusading armour at a time when the crusading movement was extinct. Imperialistic history, moreover, was bound to suffer as imperialism itself came to be discredited and reviled. Its decay opened the way for searing critics like Norman Daniel, for whom western assumptions of Islamic inferiority were based on perverse ideas generated in the period of the crusades,46 and Edward Said, who has argued that academic orientalists, far from being objective scholars, share complicity in western notions of intrinsic superiority.47 French imperialistic history, which was associated with conservative Catholicism, had stressed the ideological forces motivating crusaders, but by the 1920s and 1930s the crusades, stripped of their ideology, were being interpreted in social and economic terms by non-Marxist as well as Marxist economic historians,48 one of whose “most cherished notions” was that the movement constituted a turning point in the history of the European economy even though no economic history of it or judgement on its economic effects has ever been written.49 They had all, of course, inherited from the imperialists the idea that crusading was an early example of colonialism and they assumed that such a powerful movement could only have been generated by economic forces. They have been very influential. To Geoffrey Barraclough in 1970, claiming (falsely) to speak for all historians, “our verdict on the Crusades” was that the Latin settlements in the east were “radically unstable centers of colonial exploitation”.50 In fact, specialists on the crusades had played little or no part in developing this approach and only seem to have begun to take it on board in the 1950s, when in the vanguard were the Israelis, the most influential of whom has been Joshua Prawer.51 In recent years a new school in Israel, that of the postZionists, has reacted against the notion of the crusaders being exploitative and has 44

Claude R. Conder, The Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem 1099 to 1291 AD (London, 1897), p. 428; Siberry, p. 26. 45 Siberry, p. 26. 46 Norman Daniel, Islam and the West: The Making of an Image (Edinburgh, 1960), passim. 47 He also saw this underlying Scott’s The Talisman. Said, Orientalism, pp. 101–2, 342–47. 48 For example, see James W. Thompson, An Economic and Social History of the Middle Ages (300–1300) (New York, 1928), pp. 380–435; The Cambridge Economic History of Europe, vol. 1 (Cambridge, 1941), p. 69. 49 Michael M. Postan, “The Trade of Medieval Europe: the North”, The Cambridge Economic History of Europe, vol. 2, 2nd ed. (Cambridge, 1987), p. 212. 50 Constable, “Historiography”, p. 3. 51 For example, Joshua Prawer, The Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem. European Colonialism in the Middle Ages (London, 1972), passim.

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almost returned to Conder’s belief in the benefits of their rule for the indigenous orientals.52 The kaiser’s visit to Damascus was a landmark in another way as well, because in his speech at the banquet that followed his veneration of Saladin’s tomb he stated that “the [Turkish] sultan and the three hundred million Muslims who revere him as their leader should know that the German emperor is their friend forever”, thus appearing to lend his support to the policies of the Ottoman sultan Abdulhamid II. The Ottoman empire was in crisis. Faced by revolt and disintegration in the Balkans and unpopular in western Europe, it had been forced to recognize the independence of Rumania, Serbia and Montenegro, and the autonomy of Bulgaria, and to surrender territories to the Russians, Greeks, French and British. But the fact that it had given up over one-third of its land-mass with a population of more than five million, half of whom were Muslims, had not satisfied the West, although the kaiser was, of course, making a bid to become Turkey’s friend in need. The response of Sultan Abdulhamid to this chain of disasters had been to turn to Pan-Islamism, an ideology enshrining the unity of all Muslims under one world authority. He was a pious man who took his role as caliph, the politico-spiritual leader of Sunni Islam, very seriously, particularly as his right to hold the caliphate was being challenged. But he went further. He publicized his conviction that the European imperialists had embarked on a new “crusade”. In using this term he was only echoing the rhetoric that had washed round western Europe for more than half a century, but his language was taken up by the Pan-Islamic press and in the first Muslim history of the crusading movement, published in 1899, the year after the kaiser’s visit, the author, an Egyptian called Sayyid ‘Ali al-Hariri, wrote in the introduction that “Our most glorious sultan, Abdulhamid II, has rightly remarked that Europe is now carrying out a crusade against us in the form of a political campaign”.53 This was an entirely new development. One often reads that Muslims have inherited from their medieval ancestors bitter memories of the violence of the crusaders.54 Nothing could be further from the truth. Before the end of the nineteenth century Muslims had not shown much interest in the crusades. The first history of them in Arabic, which had appeared in 1865, had been a Christian one, 52 Post-zionism can be seen at its best in Ronnie Ellenblum, Frankish Rural Settlement in the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem (Cambridge, 1998), passim; Adrian Boas, Crusader Archaeology. The Material Culture of the Latin East (London, 1999), passim. The views of these historians are more nuanced than some. 53 Sivan, “Modern Arab Historiography”, p. 112; Ende, “Glaubensheld”, pp. 81–82. For Abdulhamid and Pan-Islamism, see Jacob M. Landau, The Politics of Pan-Islamism. Ideology and Organization (Oxford, 1994), pp. 9–72; Azmi Özcan, Pan-Islamism: Indian Muslims, the Ottomans and Britain (1877–1924) (Leiden, 1997), pp. 40–63. 54 See, for example, Amin Maalouf, The Crusades through Arab Eyes, trans. Jon Rothschild (London, 1984), p. 266; John L. Esposito, Unholy War. Terror in the Name of Islam (Oxford, 2002), pp. 74–75.

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and a specific Arabic term for them had only been introduced in the middle of the nineteenth century by the Christian intelligentsia.55 Muslims, on the other hand, had looked back on the crusades with indifference and complacency. They had never shown much interest in the world beyond Islam, since there is a tendency, in the words of one scholar, “to treat the house of war as one”. Following a tradition attributed to the Prophet – “unbelief is one nation” – no particular need was felt to differentiate one infidel from another or to distinguish crusades from other forms of Christian violence.56 Nor is it today. An unbeliever (kafir) is anyone who follows a religion other than Islam. He is neither a believer nor a Muslim. Idolators, Jews, Buddhists, Christians and Communists are exactly the same in this respect – all will be consigned eternally to Hellfire on the Day of Judgement.57

And anyway the medieval crusaders had been thoroughly beaten. Islam had driven them from the lands they had settled in the Levant and had been triumphant in the Balkans, occupying far more territory in Europe than the western settlers had ever held in Palestine and Syria. The Ottoman empire, which in the seventeenth century had extended into Hungary, had laid siege to Vienna twice.58 But now, as the Islamic world, provided with an authoritative statement by the caliph that the crusades were still in train, suddenly showed signs of taking an interest in them, it was presented with two contradictory western constructs. In one, barbarous, primitive and destructive crusaders had faced civilized, liberal and modern-looking Muslims. In the other, these same crusaders were for their European descendants a source of national and imperialistic pride. In one they had been culturally inferior; in the other they had brought enlightenment to a heathen world and were now returning to complete the work they had begun. It was easy to gloss this with the view that Europe, having lost the first round in the crusades, had embarked on another, a conspiracy theory which struck a chord in Arab Nationalism, beginning to emerge in response to the British and French occupation of much of North Africa and the Levant and the settlement of Jews in Palestine. 55

al-hurub al-salibiyya (singular al-harb al-salib = war of the cross; and hence al-salibiyyun = crusaders). Sivan, “Modern Arab Historiography”, pp. 109–10; Ende, “Glaubensheld”, p. 80; Hillenbrand, The Crusades. Islamic Perspectives, pp. 591–92. It is only a slight exaggeration to say that between 1500 and 1860 the most original writings in Arabic which referred to crusaders – Christian Maronite histories written in Lebanon – were nostalgic about them. Kamal S. Salibi, Maronite Historians of Mediaeval Lebanon (Beirut, 1959), passim. 56 Bernard Lewis, The Middle East and the West (London, 1964), p. 116. 57 Suha Taji-Farouki, “A Case Study in Contemporary Political Islam and the Palestine Question: the Perspective of Hizb al-Tahrir al-Islami”, Medieval and Modern Perspectives on Muslim–Jewish Relations, ed. Ronald L. Nettler (Studies in Muslim–Jewish Relations, Luxembourg, 1995), p. 40. 58 Very occasional suggestions that lessons could be learned from the past had been based on the conviction that the Muslims had in the end been victorious. Hillenbrand, The Crusades. Islamic Perspectives, p. 591; Bernard Lewis, The Muslim Discovery of Europe (London, 1982), pp. 164–66.

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From the first approach – the critically romantic – the Muslims took the idea of a destructive and savage West, which benefited by absorbing their civilized values while at the same time it left a trail of wreckage in its wake. “Is it possible to imagine [asked one North African historian] any substantial advantage that the Islamic world has drawn from the crusades? Indeed, how could Islam benefit from contacts established with an inferior, backward civilization?”59 Amin Maalouf, the author of an “Arab” history expressed in terms moderate enough to be acceptable in the West, has written that the crusades are “deeply felt by the Arabs, even today, as an act of rape”.60 Saladin, now Arabized,61 was given a heroic status, nowhere better reflected than in ‘Abdallah al-Sayed’s magnificent statue of him in Damascus (1992), with the figures of the Christian king of Jerusalem and the lord of Transjordan slumped in front of his horse.62 Within fifteen years of the kaiser’s visit an Arab author, warning against the threat posed by Zionist settlement in Palestine, had adopted Saladin’s name as a nom de plume and a university named after him was opened in Jerusalem in 1915.63 In Mahmoud Darwish’s account of the invasion of Lebanon by the Israelis in 1982, their actions, described in much the same terms as those of Sir Walter Scott’s crusaders, are compared unfavourably with the courtesy of Saladin: “Our water [in Beirut] has been cut off by those acting on behalf of leftover crusaders, yet Saladin used to send ice and fruits to the enemy in the hope that ‘their hearts would melt’, as he used to say.”64 From the second European approach – the imperialistic – Muslim writers took the idea of a continuing western assault on them: in 1920 Saladin was praised for thwarting the first European attempt to subdue the East.65 This is why Mehmet Ali Agha, the Turk who tried to assassinate the pope in 1981, could refer to John Paul II as “the supreme commander of the crusades”.66 Under the influence of a somewhat eccentric view, propounded by Grousset and publicized in the Islamic world in the 1930s by the historian ‘Aziz ‘Atiya, that a spiritual fault line, dating from pre-history, divides Occident and Orient, the endemic warfare between Christianity and Islam was sometimes put in the context of a global conflict, the origins of which predated the emergence of the religions.67 It was more common for Muslim 59 M. ‘A. Matawi in 1954, cited by Sivan, “Modern Arab Historiography”, p. 144; see also pp. 141–48. 60 Maalouf, Crusades through Arab Eyes, p. 266. 61 See Sivan, “Modern Arab Historiography”, pp. 128–30. 62 See Hillenbrand, The Crusades. Islamic Perspectives, pp. 595–600. 63 Ende, “Glaubensheld”, pp. 85–86; Hillenbrand, The Crusades. Islamic Perspectives, p. 594; Sivan, “Modern Arab Historiography”, pp. 112–13. 64 Mahmud Darwish, Memory for Forgetfulness. August, Beirut, 1982, trans. Ibrahim Muhawi (Berkeley, 1995), pp. 33–34; Hillenbrand, The Crusades. Islamic Perspectives, p. 613. 65 Sivan, “Modern Arab Historiography”, p. 112. 66 Hillenbrand, The Crusades. Islamic Perspectives, p. 602. 67 Sivan, “Modern Arab Historiography”, pp. 119–20. See Jean Richard, Histoire des croisades (Paris, 1996), p. 488. For a modern version, see Malise Ruthven, A Fury for God. The Islamist Attack on America (London, 2002), pp. 240–44.

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historians writing before the Second World War to argue that it had been initiated by the Arab conquests of the seventh century, but most of their successors, under the influence of the economic historians to whom I have already referred, maintain that the struggle originated with the crusades themselves, which were manifestations of western colonialist avarice conducted under the pretence of religion and which constituted the first chapter in European colonial expansion.68 As early as 1934 one writer maintained that “the west is still waging crusading wars against Islam under the guise of political and economic imperialism”.69 Others developed the theme that after losing the first round the West was consumed with a spirit of vengeance and a longing to overturn that Muslim victory. The First World War had marked yet another attempt to take the holy city of Jerusalem and the creation of the state of Israel, established on the ground occupied by the Latin kingdom of Jerusalem, had been an act of vengeful malice. Mahmoud Darwish described the Israeli siege of Beirut in 1982 as “revenge for all medieval history”.70 This idea appeals particularly to the Islamists, to whom I will turn soon. The crusaders’ malice remained concealed in their hearts, till they disclosed it when they succeeded in doing away with the Ottoman caliphal state and then establishing a Jewish state in Palestine. This they deemed a two-fold revenge for their defeat at the hand of the heroic Muslim leader Salah al-Din.71

It is commonly believed, however, that the victory of Islam over the medieval crusaders can be replicated. Saladin’s defeat of them has been an inspiration for the Palestinians since the 1920s.72 In his two-volume History of the Crusades (1963) the historian Sa‘id Ashur wrote that “our condition is very close to that of our ancestors eight and a half centuries ago; it is consequently incumbent upon us to study the movement of the crusades minutely and scientifically”.73 So conditions and events in the past are examined carefully to provide exemplars for future action,74 as indeed they are from the opposite point of view in Israel. It is often stressed on the Muslim side that patience will be needed before Israel is destroyed in the same way as was the Latin kingdom of Jerusalem.75 Many of the commemorative speeches made by American political leaders on the anniversary of 11 September 2001 reiterated that since that day “we have been a nation at war”. It should now be clear that in the minds of many Muslims the United 68

Sivan, “Modern Arab Historiography”, pp. 114–18. Ibid., p. 112. 70 Darwish, Memory, p. 11. 71 Taji-Farouki, “A Case Study”, p. 41. See Hillenbrand, The Crusades. Islamic Perspectives, pp. 602–9. 72 Ende, “Glaubensheld”, pp. 85–86; Hillenbrand, The Crusades. Islamic Perspectives, p. 594; Sivan, “Modern Arab Historiography”, pp. 112–13. 73 Sivan, “Modern Arab Historiography”, pp. 114. 74 Ibid., pp. 121–25. 75 Carole Hillenbrand, The Crusades Then and Now (CAABU Briefing No. 62, London, 2000), p. 5. 69

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States of America, which is said to have taken up the cause in its support of Israel and in its stationing of troops on Muslim territory,76 has been at war since it stepped into the shoes of the British and the French over thirty years ago. To the Nationalists, their struggle for independence was, and is, a predominantly Arab riposte to a crusade which was still being waged against them. Since the 1970s, however, they have been challenged by a renewed and militant Pan-Islamism, the adherents of which, believing Islam to be an indivisible entity, a brotherhood embracing all races and dedicated to the worship of the one God, anathematize Nationalism because it is often secular and is, of its nature, divisive. “After the fall of our orthodox caliphate on March 3 1924 and after expelling the colonialists, our Islamic nation was afflicted with apostate rulers who took over . . . [and] turned out to be more infidel and criminal than the colonialists themselves.”77 The Islamists, however, adopted the Nationalist interpretation of crusade history, which, however erroneous, was coherent, was in tune with public opinion and was propagated by a respected body of historians. They then globalized it. Whereas the Nationalists’ vision of a crusading past and present underwrites an Arab struggle for freedom from colonial oppression, to the Islamists western aggression and, above all, infidel penetration into any part of the dar al-Islam justifies the waging of jihad or holy war on a world scale; some even want to recover Moorish Spain.78 Inspired by the arguments of their leading ideologue, Sayyid Qutb,79 they maintain that “crusading” is a term that can be applied to any offensive, including a drive for economic or political hegemony, against Islam anywhere by those who call themselves Christian or are in the Christian tradition and to any aggressive action by their surrogates, like Zionists (which is why the terms “European Crusading” and “Jewish Crusading” are interchangeable) or even Marxists. Indeed “international Zionism” and “international Communism” are ideologies employed by the imperialism of the outside world to mask its “crusaderism”: the ambition of the old Christian enemy to subvert Islam and destroy believers. Parts of the world not traditionally associated with crusading are now considered to be theatres of the same war.80 76

See Esposito, Unholy War, pp. 22–23. Al-Qa’ida bomb making Guide discovered in Manchester, England, and presented in evidence at a trial in New York. But one should note Hamas’s reconciliation of Islamist and Nationalist aspirations with regard to Palestine. Andrea Nüsse, “The Ideology of Hamas: Palestinian Islamic Fundamentalist Thought on the Jews, Israel and Islam”, Studies in Muslim–Jewish Relations volume 1, ed. Ronald L. Nettler (Chur, 1993), pp. 107–10; Taji-Farouki, “A Case Study”, pp. 47–49. 78 ‘Abdullah ‘Azzam, quoted by Ruthven, A Fury for God, pp. 203, 206. 79 For a sensitive summary of present opinion on Sayyid Qutb’s career (1906–66) and writings, see Ruthven, A Fury for God, pp. 72–98. See also Gilles Kepel, Jihad. The Trail of Political Islam, trans. Anthony F. Roberts (London, 2002), pp. 23–32; Esposito, Unholy War, pp. 50–51, 56–61; Hillenbrand, The Crusades Then and Now, p. 4. 80 Muhammad Farag, quoted in Esposito, Unholy War, p. 63; Hillenbrand, The Crusades. Islamic Perspectives, pp. 600–602, 609–10; Ilan Pappe, “Understanding the Enemy: a comparative analysis 77

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The militant wing of Islamism to which Usamah bin Laden belongs, composed of the so-called jihadist-salafists, is not convinced by the arguments for patience of educated Nationalists. Like other radical Islamists Usamah is inspired by, and regularly quotes from, the writings of a remarkable figure from the crusading period, the charismatic Ibn Taymiyya, who in 1297 was employed by the Mamluk government of Egypt to preach a jihad against the last “crusader state” on the mainland, the kingdom of Cilician Armenia. For Ibn Taymiyya, however, the priority was not at that stage to wage war extraliminally in the dar al-harb; it was to turn inwards and purge the Sunni world of infidels and heretics. So the jihad was to be a force which at the same time would renew individual spirituality and create a united society dedicated to God which could then triumph over the world.81 Usamah is, not surprisingly, particularly emotional about an infidel penetration which, he believes, defiles Islam, and about a threat he perceives to be hanging over the holy places of his religion. For him, the American presence in Saudi Arabia pollutes Mecca and Medina, and the Israeli occupation of Jerusalem menaces the al-Aqsa mosque. Our lord, the people of the cross had come with their horses [soldiers] and occupied the land of the two Holy Places [Mecca and Medina] and the Zionist Jews fiddle as they wish with the al-Aqsa mosque.82 The Arabian Peninsula has never – since Allah made it flat, created its desert, and encircled it with seas – been stormed by any forces like the crusader armies, spreading in it like locusts, eating its riches and wiping out its plantations ... For over seven years the United States has been occupying the lands of Islam in the holiest of places, the Arabian Peninsula, plundering its riches, dictating to its rulers, humiliating its people, terrorizing its neighbours, and turning its bases in the Peninsula into a spearhead through which to fight the neighbouring Muslim peoples.83

To be found fighting under the sign of the cross are not only Christians, but also their surrogates, Jews, Marxists and secularists. And Afghanistan has been for decades a theatre of crusading warfare in a world-wide conflict.

of Palestinian Islamist and Nationalist Leaflets, 1920s–1980s”, Studies in Muslim–Jewish Relations. Muslim–Jewish Encounters, Intellectual Traditions and Modern Politics, ed Ronald L. Nettler and Suha Taji-Farouki (Amsterdam, 1998), pp. 87–107; Ruthven, A Fury for God, pp. 94, 185. 81 He condemned the Shi‘ites as interior enemies “even more dangerous than the Jews and the Christians” and he wanted holy war to be waged pitilessly against them. A.Morabia, “Ibn Taymiyya, dernier grand théoricien du Gihad médiéval”, Bulletin d’études orientales 30 (1978), pp. 85–99; Hillenbrand, The Crusades. Islamic Perspectives, pp. 241–43. See also A. Morabia, Le Gihad dans l’Islam médiéval (Paris, 1983), passim. For some of Usamah bin Laden’s references to him, see the Declaration of War against the Americans occupying the Land of the Two Holy Places, 23 August 1996. 82 Declaration of War, 23 August 1996. 83 World Islamic Front Statement urging Jihad against Jews and Crusaders, 23 February 1998.

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This is a battle of Muslims against the global crusaders ... God, who provided us with his support and kept us steadfast until the Soviet Union was defeated, is able to provide us once more with his support to defeat America on the same land and with the same people.

In a war of civilizations, our goal is for our nation to unite in the face of the Christian crusade ... This is a recurring war. The original crusade brought Richard [Lionheart] from Britain, Louis from France and Barbarossa from Germany. Today the crusading countries rushed as soon as Bush raised the cross. They accepted the rule of the cross.84

The language is fevered, of course, but it is hard to avoid the conclusion that Usamah’s historical vision, although extreme and in western terms a fantasy, is not that of an isolated eccentric, nor, in the context of Islamist thought, is his terminology “archaic”.85 So many share it that one is tempted to call it mainstream. It has recently been argued with some force that radical Islamism is on its last legs. It has failed in Bosnia, Algeria and elsewhere. Many Islamists are turning away from a violence which has so disgusted their co-religionists that it has proved itself to be counter-productive and are re-engaging with parliamentary institutions. The rigid concern for doctrinal purity of the jihadist–salafists, moreover, is leading to their fragmentation into smaller and smaller groups which then fight to the death among themselves. The events of 11 September 2001 are, it is said, evidence of the desperation of a movement forced to engage in spectacular terrorism as a last resort.86 Whether or not this forecast proves to be optimistic, the historical vision I have described provides part of the context for, and a justification of, the atrocity of 11 September. It is a view of the past and of the present, moral as well as historical and shared by both Muslim Nationalists and Islamists. It is not likely to be discredited should radical Islamism fail, since it is now firmly embedded in public consciousness. It has been spreading for a century and nothing has been done to counter it. Indeed, over and over again, in words and deeds westerners have reinforced Muslim preconceptions. On the other hand, the premises of the Muslim writers who propound it are so far from those of western historians and of those Muslims who work within the western tradition that it is hard to believe that anything could ever be achieved through dialogue. For most “western” specialists on the subject the crusades are 84 Usamah – Interview, October 2001. See also Kepel, Jihad, pp. 313–15. The concept of a war of civilizations echoes the views of Samuel Huntington and other commentators in the United States. Esposito, Unholy War, pp. 126–27. 85 See Ruthven, A Fury for God, p. 252. 86 Kepel, Jihad, passim.

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narrowly definable as Christian penitential war-pilgrimages authorized by the popes and fought by volunteers, who were privileged in various ways. And most do not consider them to have been specifically anti-Islamic, since they manifested themselves in many different theatres of war against many different enemies: Muslims, of course, but also Pagan Wends, Balts and Lithuanians, Shamanist Mongols, Orthodox Russians and Greeks, Cathar and Hussite heretics and even Catholic political opponents of the papacy. The crusading movement lasted for centuries, but it had come to an end before 1800. Nothing in the political, economic or military activities of the West in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries was remotely similar, however loose the rhetoric surrounding it. But it is somewhat pedantic to engage in argument whether the policies of the developed world are “crusading” or not. Disputes about the terms we employ will not alter the facts that a very large number of people in the Islamic world, moderates as well as extremists, are attached to a history which satisfies their feelings of both superiority and humiliation and that they perceive themselves to be exploited by westerners, while the religious among them believe themselves to be threatened by values which they loathe. Since it is important for us to understand why they feel as they do, it is worrying that most people in the West are ignorant of the potent historical and moral force I have described. I have already referred to a weakness in Islam, a lack of curiosity about the world beyond. But much the same criticism can be levelled at us.

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REVIEWS Alfred J. Andrea, Contemporary Sources for the Fourth Crusade, with contributions by Brett E. Whalen (The Medieval Mediterranean, 29). Leiden: Brill, 2000. Pp. xii, 330. ISBN 90 04 11740 7. The editor of this collection of texts in English translation has already published numerous studies of the sources for the Fourth Crusade, as well as a complete translation of the Hystoria Constantinopolitana of Gunther of Pairis (Philadelphia, 1997). He has intelligently divided the volume into three parts. Under section I, “In the Heat of Events: Sources Immediate to the Fourth Crusade”, he has included the relevant letters from the register of Pope Innocent III, and the report to the West written by Hugh of Saint Pol from Constantinople in the summer of 1203. Under “On Reflection: Eyewitness Accounts after the Fact”, he presents the Devastatio Constantinopolitana, the Translatio by the Anonymous of Soissons, and the relevant passages from the Deeds of the Bishops of Halberstadt. Finally, in “The Crusade Viewed from the Cloister”, he gives passages from the chronicles of Ralph of Coggeshall and Alberic of Trois Fontaines. Very little of this material has been available in English previously. A few of the passages from Innocent’s register were given in Edward Peters’s Christian Society and the Crusades (Philadelphia, 1971) and some of Andrea’s translations included here were earlier published in journals, but this collection brings these sources together and makes them accessible in one place. Anyone who teaches the Fourth Crusade, therefore, will welcome the appearance of Professor Andrea’s book. Its only drawback as a teaching text is its prohibitively high price (!118; US$138) which puts it far beyond the purchasing power of most students. Andrea’s work is not just a tool for teaching, however. It is also a contribution to the debate on the Fourth Crusade and the reasons behind its diversion to Constantinople. Andrea makes no secret of his adherence to the theory put forward by Donald E. Queller, Thomas F. Madden and others that there was no conspiracy to capture and occupy the Byzantine capital. He rightly lays stress on the report of Hugh of Saint Pol which “offers no solace to those historians who cling to the notion that the crusade leaders had long plotted the capture of Constantinople and its empire” (p. 184). One of the leaders of the crusade, Hugh makes it clear in his report that the fleet had come to Constantinople only to supply itself and would shortly be moving on to attack Egypt and ultimately to reconquer Jerusalem, as originally planned. Yet these texts do not end the debate with quite the finality that Andrea suggests, for it could be argued that they support a very different conclusion. Among the letters of Innocent III, Andrea translates not only the famous prohibition of the diversion to Constantinople of June 1203 (pp. 62–63), but also another letter which he now believes to be of similar date. In this second letter, Innocent addresses the 169

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problem of supply which had dogged previous crusades. He informed the leaders of the Fourth Crusade that he had asked the emperor in Constantinople, Alexius III Angelos (1195–1203), to make supplies available. If these were not forthcoming, then it would be legitimate for the crusaders to forage on the Byzantine coast for what they needed. Various biblical precedents were cited to justify such action, and Innocent concludes with the words, in Andrea’s version: “We have drawn these examples from Holy Scriptures not as a way of countenancing rapine but as a way of tolerating what, in the face of grave necessity, cannot be avoided without serious loss” (pp. 67–68). Innocent’s words appear to advance the notion that the Byzantines were under a weighty obligation to assist the crusading enterprise, and may well have been prompted by the memory that, in the past, they had frequently failed to do so. They were being given another chance but if they once more let the crusaders down, the necessary supplies could be seized by force. While it is unlikely that Innocent was referring to the capture of Constantinople itself here, the hard-headed leaders of the Fourth Crusade may well have interpreted it in exactly that light. The type of reasoning at work here is set out in a revealing passage of Gunther of Pairis. As well as dwelling on the fabled wealth of Constantinople, Gunther claimed that the pope had permitted the crusaders to tap that resource and to take “half a year’s supply of free food” from the coastal regions of the empire by force if necessary. Moreover, Gunther asserted that the pope hated the city of Constantinople and longed for its capture (p. 84 of Andrea’s translation of Gunther, cited above). It could be argued, therefore, that Gunther’s words reflect the thinking to be found among the crusade leadership, particularly Boniface of Montferrat. A diversion to Constantinople may have been envisaged from the very beginning as a way of alleviating the chronic problem of supply and lack of finance that had dogged previous expeditions. Boniface and the other leaders cannot have been so naïve as to imagine that any attempt to extort these necessities would not be resisted, in which case Innocent III had obligingly provided a justification for seizing Constantinople by force. The propensity of the book to provide evidence which does not necessarily fit in with Andrea’s own preferred theory is by no means a weakness. Rather it is a mark of the great contribution that Contemporary Sources will undoubtedly make to the renewed debate of the Fourth Crusade which is sure to emerge as the eighthundredth anniversary of the sack of Constantinople approaches. Jonathan Harris Royal Holloway, University of London

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Baha al-Din Ibn Shaddad, The Rare and Excellent History of Saladin (al-Nawadir al-Sultaniyya wa’l-Mahasin al-Yusufiyya), trans. D. S. Richards (Crusade Texts in Translation, 7). Aldershot: Ashgate, 2001. Pp. x, 265. ISBN 0 7546 0143 9. The series Crusader Texts in Translation goes from strength to strength, making rare and less rare sources available in scholarly and readable English versions. The books have already greatly increased the amount of material available to non-Latin readers, and even for those with the language, the series has often provided a more reliable witness than old editions. The History of Saladin is the first Arabic addition to the series and will be of immense value to non-Arabic readers. Used in conjunction with Helen Nicholson’s translation of the Itinerarium Peregrinorum et Gesta Regis Ricardi (Aldershot, 1999, 2001 in paperback) in the same series, it will provide a unique opportunity for students to compare Christian and Muslim accounts of the same events. It would be wonderful if at some stage both were made available in paperback editions. Ibn Shaddad is one of the main biographers of Saladin and from the time when he joined his future master permanently in 1188, his account is a first-hand eye-witness narrative. For events before 1188 he relied largely on ‘Imad al-Dýn’s account and is not a corroborating witness, although he did simplify ‘Imad al-Dýn’s highly rhetorical rhymed prose. Ibn Shaddad’s work is unpretentious in style. There are certainly little homilies and celebrations of the major and minor triumphs of the jihad, but the author is largely concerned to give a clear narrative of events. Of course the work is clearly biased, in exactly the way one would expect. In the siege of Acre, of which he gives a full and gripping account, he plays up the triumphs of the Muslims and disparages those of the Franks to the extent that the reader may be left wondering why the city ever fell to the crusaders. But far from impairing the value of the account, Ibn Shaddad’s work provides the clearest and most accessible description of them from a Muslim point of view. He is especially interesting on the details of fighting and siege warfare: the great towers built by the Franks, which seem to be quite foreign to the Muslim tradition of siege warfare, are described in full. He also makes no effort to spare the blushes of those military leaders who were always looking for excuses to withdraw from the army and take their men home. This was especially true of men from the Mosul and Jazira areas who had been closely attached to the Zangids. But it is of course Saladin who is the real hero of the work. The book was written after his death and presents the fully developed image of the pious and modest sovereign. His concern for his own men and for the widows and orphans of others is elaborated as is his own modesty, the way in which the rough and tumble of everyday life in camp affected him. It was impossible for him to be a remote potentate when people were forever tramping past and through his tent. On the other hand we hear little about Saladin’s diplomacy and virtually nothing about his administration. Ibn Shaddad is simply not interested in how money was raised and spent or how the army was paid. As one would expect from a historian of his distinction, D. S. Richards has provided an excellent translation of the text, scholarly without being pedantic. It is

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not the first. Readers may well be familiar with the 1897 translation by Wilson and Conder published by the Palestine Pilgrims’ Text Society. As Richards shows, this translation is based not on the Arabic original but on the French translation published along with the Arabic text in the Recueil des Historiens des Croisades. Richards has gone back to the manuscript evidence, using two manuscripts dated to 1228 and 1229, one in Berlin, the other, appropriately, in the library of the Aqsa Mosque in Jerusalem, published for the first time by G. al-Shayyal in 1963. Richards’s translation, being directly from the Arabic and being based on a superior manuscript tradition, should now be preferred to the PPTS one on all grounds. The History of Saladin will be invaluable to students and scholars alike: it is not just an improving and useful read, but a lively and entertaining one as well. Hugh Kennedy University of St Andrews The Crusades and the Military Orders. Expanding the Frontiers of Medieval Latin Christianity, ed. Zsolt Hunyadi and Jószef Laszlovsky (CEU Medievalia). Budapest: Department of Medieval Studies, Central European University, 2001. Pp. xxxiii, 606. ISBN 963 9241 42 3 (paperback). Der hier anzuzeigende Sammelband enthält fast nur Beiträge, die aus Referaten hervorgingen, welche im Februar 1999 auf einer von der Central European University in Budapest veranstalteten Tagung gehalten worden sind. Die international besetzte Tagung gab zehn Jahre nach dem Fall des Eisernen Vorhanges v. a. Mediävisten aus fast allen Staaten Ostmittel-, Südost- und Osteuropas (von dort kamen fast zwei Drittel der Referenten und von diesen fast 50 Prozent aus Ungarn, aus dem ehemaligen Jugoslawien 6) Gelegenheit zur Präsentation ihrer Methoden und Ergebnisse auf dem Gebiet der Kreuzzugs- und Ritterordensforschung. Deutlich wird an den Beiträgen, daß die Interessen der Referenten beziehungsweise Autoren durch ganz unterschiedliche Wissenschaftstraditionen und zum Teil auch durch die besondere Bedeutung der Kreuzzugsbewegung und der geistlichen Ritterorden für die eigene Nationalgeschichte geprägt worden sind. Die Publikation fast aller Beiträge, die mit Blick auf die Verhältnisse im Vorderen Orient und auf Südost- und Ostmitteleuropa (Ungarn, Böhmen, Mähren) grundsätzliche und Detailprobleme aus der Geschichte der Kreuzzüge und der geistlichen Ritterorden erörtern, vermittelt einen Eindruck von den Richtungen, Schwerpunkten und Ergebnissen insbesondere der ost-, ostmittel- und südosteuropäischen Forschung, die bisher in der westlichen Forschung nicht zur Kenntnis genommen worden sind. Verständlich ist, daß man die Tagung als Gelegenheit genutzt hat, insbesondere die Leistungen der ungarischen Forschung in diesen Bereichen zu präsentieren, während die polnische Forschung, die ja in den Ordines Militares-Tagungen zu Torun ihr international beachtetes Forum gefunden hat, eher unterrepräsentiert ist.

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Im einzelnen handelt es sich um folgende Beiträge: Rudolf Hiestand, “Some Reflections on the Impact of the Papacy on the Crusader States and the Military Orders in the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries” (pp. 3–20); Farhad Daftary, “The Isma‘ilis and the Crusaders: History and Myth” (pp. 21–42); Marianne Sághy, “Crusade and Nationalism: Pierre Dubois, the Holy Land, and French Hegemony” (pp. 43–50); Svetlana Bliznyuk, “A Crusader of the Later Middle Ages: King Peter I of Cyprus” (pp. 51–57); Balázs Major, “Al-Malik al-Mujahid, Ruler of Homs, and the Hospitallers (The Evidence in the Chronicle of Ibn Wasil)” (pp. 61–76); Michael Metcalf, “Monetary Questions Arising out of the Role of the Templars as Guardians of the Northern Marches of the Principality of Antioch” (pp. 77–88); Benjamin Z. Kedar, “Convergences of Oriental Christian, Muslim and Frankish Worshippers: the Case of Saydnaya and the Knights Templar” (pp. 89–100); Peter W. Edbury, “The Military Orders in Cyprus in the Light of Recent Scholarship” (pp. 101–107); Theresa M. Vann, “Guillaume Caoursin’s Descriptio obsidione Rhodiae and the Archives of the Knights of Malta” (pp. 109–20); Miha Kosi, “The Age of the Crusades in the South-East of the Empire (Between the Alps and the Adriatic)” (pp. 123–66); Borzislav Grgin, “The Impact of the Crusades on Medieval Croatia” (pp. 167–72); Ivica Prlender, “An Eastern Adriatic Merchand Republic (Dubrovnik): Facing the Temptations of the Crusades” (pp. 173–86); Ljubinka Dþidrova, “Crusaders in the Central Balkans” (pp. 187–212); Norman J. Housley, “Jak vysvÇlit poráþku. Ondøej z Øezna a køiþové výpravy proti husitùm” (pp. 213–22; Übers. v. ders., “Explaining Defeat: Andrew of Regensburg and the Hussite Crusades”, in Dei Gesta per Francos. Studies in Honour of Jean Richard, ed. M. Balard et al. [Aldershot, 2001], pp. 87–95); László Veszprémy, “Some Remarks on Recent Historiography of the Crusade of Nicopolis (1396)” (pp. 223–30); Karl Borchardt, “The Templars in Central Europe” (pp. 233–44); Balázs Stossek, “Maisons et possessions des Templiers en Hongrie” (pp. 245–52); Zsolt Hunyadi, “The Hospitallers in the Kingdom of Hungary: Houses, Personnel, and a Particular Activity up to c. 1400” (pp. 253–68); Anthony Luttrell, “The Hospitallers in Hungary before 1418: Problems and Sources” (pp. 269–82); Neven Budak, “John of Palisna, the Hospitaller Prior of Vrana” (pp. 283–90); Pál Engel, “The Estates of the Hospitallers in Hungary at the End of the Middle Ages” (pp. 291–302); Libor Jan, “Böhmische und mährische Adelige als Förderer und Mitglieder der geistlichen Ritterorden” (pp. 303–18); József Laszlovszky and Zoltán Soós, “Historical Monuments of the Teutonic Order in Transylvania” (pp. 319–336); Martin Wihoda, “The Pøemyslid Dynasty and the Beginnings of the Teutonic Order” (pp. 337–47); Kaspar Elm, “Die Ordines militares: Ein Ordenszötus zwischen Einheit und Vielfalt” (pp. 351–78); Jochen Burgtorf, “Structures in the Orders of the Hospital and the Temple (Twelfth to Early Fourteenth Century) – Select Aspects” (pp. 379–94); Michael Gervers, “Changing Forms of Hospitaller Address in English Private Charters of the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries” (pp. 395–403); Helen J. Nicholson, “The Military Orders and their Relations with Women” (pp. 407–14); Maria Starnawska, “Military Orders and the Beginning of Crusades in Prussia”

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(pp. 417–28); László Pósán, “Prussian Missions and the Invitation of the Teutonic Order into Kulmerland” (pp. 429–48); Leszek Kajzer and Piotr Nowakowski, “Remarks on the Architecture of the Teutonic Order’s Castles in Prussia” (pp. 449–66); Juhan Kreem, “The Teutonic Order in Livonia: Diverging Historiographic Traditions” (pp. 467–79); John H. Lind, “Scandinavian Nemtsy and Repaganized Russians. The Expansion of the Latin West During the Baltic Crusades and its Confessional Repercussions” (pp. 481–97). Beigegeben ist dem Band (pp. 501–88) eine von Zsolt Hunyadi zusammengestellte, 1700 Titel umfassende Auswahlbibliographie, die viel mehr sein will als eine systematische Übersicht über die von den Autoren des Sammelbandes benutzten Quellen und Sekundärliteratur. Über die nicht selten fehlerhafte Titelaufnahme und über die Aufnahmekriterien ließe sich lange streiten. Bedauerlich ist der häufige Verzicht auf die Nennung kritischer Textausgaben; sehr selektiv wird auf moderne (v.a. englische) Übersetzungen hingewiesen. Selbst nach sorgfältigem Studium der Gebrauchsanweisung läßt sich das Literaturverzeichnis nur mit beträchtlichem Aufwand als systematische Bibliographie benutzen. Da die nach 1987 (bis dahin reicht H. E. Mayer, “Select Bibliography of the Crusades”, in K. M. Setton, History of the Crusades, vol. 6 [Madison, 1989], pp. 511–658) erschienenen Quelleneditionen und – übersetzungen sowie die wissenschaftlichen Veröffentlichungen auf diesen Gebieten bisher noch nicht in einer Sammelbibliographie zusammengefaßt worden sind, könnte man die Bibliographie allenfalls (neben den jährlichen Übersichten über Neuerscheinungen im Bulletin der SSCLE) als Vorarbeit zu einer Fortsetzung von Mayers Bibliographie bezeichnen. Marie-Luise Favreau-Lilie Freie Universität Berlin Åãêõêëïðáéäéêü Ðñïóùðïãñáöéêü Ëåîéêü ÂõæáíôéíÞò Éóôïñßáò êáé Ðïëéôéóìïý (= Encyclopaedic Prosopographical Lexicon of Byzantine History and Civilisation), ed. Alexis G. C. Savvides, vols 1–4. Athens (Greece): Iolkos/ Metron Publications, 1997–2002. ISBN (set) 960 426 029 4. In the 1980s, Professor A. G. C. Savvides envisaged the publication in Greek of an encyclopaedic prosopographical lexicon of the Byzantine world, the first of its kind in Greek bibliography. In 1996, the first volume of his ambitious project, the Encyclopaedic Prosopographical Lexicon of Byzantine History and Civilisation, was published, followed by the second volume in 1997, the third in 1998 and the fourth in 2002. The Lexicon is expected to be completed with the publication of the eleventh volume in 2011 (a twelfth volume will contain an index and addenda et corrigenda to all the volumes, a list of abbreviations and an analytical bibliography of sources as well as of secondary works). The project intends to include lemmas with information about the life, career and achievements of individuals who lived in the Byzantine empire and played a

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significant role in its political, military, ecclesiastical or cultural life; of individuals of various nationalities who lived outside the borders of the empire but whose career was associated with the Byzantine empire; and also of royal dynasties and families inside and outside the borders of the empire who contributed significantly to developments in the empire from the fourth to the fifteenth centuries. To produce a reliable Lexicon, Professor Savvides has invited to participate in the project both established historians from the international community of Byzantinists, Western Medievalists, Slavicists, Orientalists and also those who have yet to make their mark but who are active researchers in Byzantine topics. At the beginning of volumes 2, 3 and 4, an addenda et corrigenda section appears, which includes bibliographical additions, corrections of errors made in previous volumes and also the addition of lemmas which, for some reason, had initially been omitted. Although this section does not contribute aesthetically to the volumes, its presence should be seen as an indication of the effort and commitment of the editor to keep the reader updated bibliographically and also of his willingness to admit omissions immediately after they come to his attention instead of waiting for the completion of the Lexicon and the publication of the separate volume with addenda et corrigenda for the whole project. In a second edition, the editor has promised, the addenda et corrigenda will be incorporated into the volumes. The first four volumes of the Lexicon have proved to be a useful tool not only for Greek Byzantinists but also for the international community of eminent Byzantinists who are able to read Greek. The number of lemmas is large and the information they provide very satisfactory. One of the assets of the Lexicon is the extensive bibliography cited parenthetically in the text of the lemmas and, usually, also at its end, which includes references to books and articles written in Greek and also in languages not usually cited in similar Lexicons and Encyclopaedias on Byzantium. This is an important work that makes a useful contribution to Byzantine studies. Aphrodite Papayianni University of London Gendering the Crusades, ed. Susan B. Edgington and Sarah Lambert. Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 2001. Pp. xvi, 215. ISBN 0 7083 1705 7 (hardback), 0 7083 1698 0 (paperback). This collection of thirteen articles on gender and crusade is a timely addition to crusade studies. Gendering the crusades has had a slow start compared to the gendering of other areas of medieval culture. It is indeed surprising that no monograph study of the issue of women or gender and the crusade has as yet been written (though I understand that several are on the way). At least on the part of this reviewer, Gendering the Crusades therefore raises high expectations – expectations it only partly manages to fulfil.

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In many ways the most thought-provoking contribution of Gendering the Crusades is Sarah Lambert’s “Crusading or Spinning” (pp. 1–15). By discussing a number of mainly twelfth-century crusade chronicles, Lambert sets out to “demonstrate that the representation of women in crusade chronicles can be read as more than simply representative of the events these writers saw or were told about” (p. 13). She concludes that most chroniclers “participated in creating an idea of the crusade as a ‘gendered’ activity, as male space” (p. 8). Prima facie this is not surprising as crusades were wars, and wars were first and foremost fought by men in the Middle Ages (as they are today). But this does not mean that women had no part in the military campaigns. Quite the contrary, as the majority of articles in this volume point out. The female contribution is, however, difficult to assess because crusade chroniclers often represented men and women in terms of imaginary male and female role models. Thus women and female behaviour in crusade chronicles were as a rule represented not in their own right but with reference to an ideal of the crusader who was male, pious, obedient to God and fearless in battle. A good and well-argued example of how crusade chroniclers used such imaginary gender roles is presented by Natasha Hodgson (“The Role of Kherbogha’s Mother in the Gesta Francorum and Selected Chronicles of the First Crusade”, pp. 163–76). The role of women in crusade armies as represented by male chroniclers and the limitations that the “male” narratives put on the representation of women on crusade are also explored by Matthew Bennett (“Virile Latins, Effeminate Greeks and Strong Women: Gender Definitions on Crusade”, pp. 16–30), Michael R. Evans (“‘Unfit to Bear Arms’: The Gendering of Arms and Armour in Accounts of Women on Crusade”, pp. 45–58), Keren Caspi-Reisfeld (“Women Warriors during the Crusades, 1095–1254”, pp. 94–107), and Susan Edgington (“‘Sont çou ore les fems que jo voi la venir?’ Women in the Chanson d’Antioche”, pp. 154–62). There is much that is of interest in these articles, but also much that gets repeated due to the fact that most of the authors are looking at the same or a similar set of twelfth- and early thirteenth-century crusade chronicles. There is also a tendency to stop with the discussion of the purely military and logistic activities of women on crusade. No one, for example, has attempted to explore the area of women crusaders’ mentality. What did cause women – ordinary camp followers and others – to invade the “male space” that was the crusade? It is one thing to analyse the specific female roles adopted in the difficult and extraordinary circumstances of a crusade army on the move. But how and why did women get there in the first place? Can we explain female involvement in the crusade in terms of religious motivation? How gendered was the crusade in terms of its religious ideology? Miriam Rita Tessera’s contribution (“Philip Count of Flanders and Hildegard of Bingen: Crusading against the Saracens or Crusading against Deadly Sin?”, pp. 77–93) investigates possible answers by explaining Hildegard of Bingen’s insistence that the military crusade should be accompanied by an inner crusade against sin. But as Tessera herself stresses, this particular dichotomy cannot be understood in terms of gender difference. So the question still stands unanswered.

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There is a refreshing glimpse into crusade matters away from the battlefield in Constance Rousseau’s contribution “Home Front and Battlefield: The Gendering of Papal Crusading Policy (1095–1221)” (pp. 31–44). Looking at documents of papal crusade propaganda Rousseau comes to the conclusion that the popes did not initially acknowledge that women might play a meaningful role in the crusade, which in terms of active involvement was seen as a purely military, ergo male, matter. This changed at the end of the twelfth and the beginning of the thirteenth centuries when the popes began to call on society as a whole to support the crusade. By offering indulgences in return for financial support and by calling upon people generally to take an active role in the liturgical activities designed to aid the crusaders in the field, women (as well as other non-participants) were given the opportunity to get involved in the crusade on their own non-military terms. The two contributions by Yvonne Friedman (“Captivity and Ransom: The Experience of Women”, pp. 121–39) and Sylvia Schein (“Women in Medieval Colonial Society: The Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem in the Twelfth Century”, pp. 140–53) deal with the particular status and experience of women in the colonial frontier society of the Latin East. Rounding off the collection are three essays focusing respectively on a female crusade chronicler (Peter Frankopan, “Perception and Projection of Prejudice: Anna Comnena, the Alexiad and the First Crusade”, pp. 59–76), the military order’s devotion to female saints (Helen Nicholson, “The Head of St. Euphemia: Templar Devotion to Female Saints”, pp. 108–20) and representations of crusaders and their wives in the nineteenth century (Elizabeth Siberry, “The Crusader’s Departure and Return: A Much Later Perspective”, pp. 177–90). This volume certainly manages to point out the potential of gender analysis for understanding the medieval crusades. The attentive reader comes away with the realization that the experience of crusading was distinctly different for male and female participants and that the male bias of medieval authors stands in the way of an adequate understanding of the role of women on crusade. My main criticism lies with the scope of the book and its contributions. The essays deal almost exclusively with the crusade to the Holy Land, the twelfth century, the “crusader” societies of the Latin East and the military aspects of the crusade expeditions. These limitations are difficult to understand and they are self-imposed. Over the past thirty years crusade studies have shown the crusade to be a movement lasting well into the early modern period, one which profoundly affected large parts of the medieval society, even outside the crusade theatres proper. If gender studies are to have a real impact on our understanding of the crusade (as I think they should) and if crusade studies are to contribute towards our perception of medieval society in terms of its gender differences (as I think they can), it will be necessary to give up the traditional, narrow approach to crusade studies that is presented by Gendering the Crusades. After all, some of the most stimulating work on the role of women within the crusade movement is the result of looking at areas that lie outside such a traditional, confined view of crusade studies: see e.g. Rasa Mazeika, “‘Nowhere was the Fragility of their Sex Apparent’: Women Warriors in the Baltic Crusader

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Chronicles”, in From Clermont to Jerusalem. The Crusades and Crusader Societies 1095–1500, ed. Alan V. Murray, International Medieval Research 3 (Turnhout, 1998), pp. 229–48, or James Powell, “The Role of Women in the Fifth Crusade”, in The Horns of Hattin. Proceedings of the Second Conference of the SSCLE, Jerusalem and Haifa 2–6 July 1987, ed. Benjamin Z. Kedar (Jerusalem and London, 1992), pp. 294–301. Christoph T. Maier Universität Zürich W. Scott Jessee, Robert the Burgundian and the Counts of Anjou, ca. 1025–1098. Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 2000. Pp. xii, 206. ISBN 0 8132 0973 0. It has become almost a commonplace of research into the crusades that it is important to address the motivations of crusaders critically and carefully. As stock answers such as material greed, land-hunger or proto-colonialism have fallen away, or reinvented themselves in more subtle forms, so it has become more acceptable to understand participation in crusades as the enacting of complexes of ideas which the crusaders themselves recognized and approved. To get at those ideas, methodologically speaking, requires steering a path between the extremes of reinscribing the rhetoric of crusade texts and dismissing the rhetoric as an irrelevance masking other motivating forces. If, then, crusaders can be “read” in and through texts – charters, histories, letters – of which they themselves were not the primary authors, particular importance must attach to the details of their lives before the crusade: all the personal and social formations, that is, that went to make a crusader. This is true of those who went on the First Crusade, of course, because of this expedition’s shock of the new, but it applies just as much to those who went on later crusades. W. Scott Jessee’s interesting and measured treatment of the career of Robert the Burgundian can be read as a case study in the potential and limitations of this sort of approach. Robert departed on the First Crusade in 1098 after a full and active life. In the process he left a particularly rich trail of charter material, of the sort that Jonathan Riley-Smith’s work has brought to the fore. To that extent alone, Robert merits careful attention. But unlike many other first crusaders, whose on-departure charters represent their main or sole moment in the historical record, Robert features in diplomatic and historiographical material spanning several decades. Critically, the distribution of the evidence is fairly even, meaning that Jessee can attempt a biographical treatment which, once past the necessarily sketchy details of childhood and early adulthood, is remarkably full considering that Robert was not a king or first-rank territorial prince, even though he was the kinsman and coadjutor of men and women from these social levels. Inevitably, there are gaps that have to be filled with informed speculation; and at various junctures Jessee broadens the focus to engage with the affairs of Anjou and Maine, Robert’s core

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world, and of northern France more generally, while Robert himself shades into the background. The interweaving of what is known of Robert’s life with the wider political scene is handled well. So too the intricate connections between “public” and “private” in matters of religious benefaction and the patronage of monasteries. The chronological framework of the book is a positive feature, ensuring clarity without descending into straight narrative. Though Jessee’s principal concern is to locate Robert’s career within the history of the Angevin domains, in the process encouraging a more positive appreciation of the reign of Count Fulk Rechin, there is a great deal to attract the interest of crusade historians. Robert, in fact, emerges as virtually an embodiment of all the facets of eleventh-century aristocratic life that have been linked to crusade motivation in recent research: family networks, military accomplishment, ideals of service and loyalty, exposure to traditions of pilgrimage, and support of progressive church institutions. To cap it all, Pope Urban II actually visited one of Robert’s castles during the preaching tour that launched the crusade. What more could one want? Even so, precisely what motivated Robert the crusader remains elusive. Jessee gets us as close to an answer as we can reasonably expect from the evidence. His book is a thoughtful combination of attention to the sort of detail that an individual life provides and engagement with the broader concerns of recent scholarship. The diplomatic evidence central to an analysis of Robert’s career is handled sensitively and skilfully. Perhaps more could have been said about the roles played by the women in Robert’s world. But overall, this is a very good book which will be of interest to scholars working in a range of fields. Marcus Bull University of Bristol Beverley Mayne Kienzle, Cistercians, Heresy and Crusade in Occitania, 1145– 1229. Woodbridge: York Medieval Press, 2001. Pp. xix, 256. ISBN 1 903153 00 X. “How did a contemplative monastic order involve itself so intensely in public preaching against heresy? How did the Cistercians become embroiled in a situation that led some even onto the battlefield at the head of armies?” (p. 2). These are two main questions which direct Kienzle’s study of Cistercian involvement in the campaigns against the southern French heretics before, during and after the Albigensian crusades. In essence the author presents a study of the anti-heretical preaching undertaken by some of the most prominent exponents of the Cistercian Order: Bernard of Clairvaux in the 1140s, Henry of Clairvaux around 1180, Arnaud Amaury, Guy of les Vaux-de-Cernay and Fulk of Toulouse during the crusading years, and Hélinand of Froidemont at the time of the Treaty of Paris in 1229. Drawing on sermon texts, letters and chronicle reports, Kienzle paints a balanced picture of the arguments and issues involved in the campaign against the Albigensian heretics as seen through the rhetoric of these papal propagandists. At the same time she provides the contexts in which the preachers were developing their activities: the

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establishment of the Cistercian Order in Languedoc and the measures taken by the papacy against the spread of Catharism, first peaceful mission and later the crusades. The strength of this study lies in the careful investigation of the Cistercian preachers’ ideological and rhetorical strategies. The texts analysed were propagandist and polemicist and thus neither subtle nor compassionate. The heretics were uniformly portrayed as a threat to the social fabric and the divine order which the Church defined and tried to impose upon society. The preachers saw themselves as defenders of the “Lord’s vineyard” set upon by “little foxes”, a reference to the second chapter of the Song of Songs and a biblical picture frequently used to describe the heretics’ allegedly hostile and destructive attitudes towards the rest of society. In terms of its principal theological foundation and its main ideological outlook, the preaching against the Albigensian heretics stayed surprisingly uniform throughout the various stages of the Church’s counter-attack. Although the means changed from peaceful mission to armed crusade, the underlying perception of heresy and the attitude of those involved in the papal campaigns changed little. As “the most frequent and overarching patterns of rhetoric” used by these Cistercian preachers to characterize the Albigensian heretics, Kienzle singles out “(a) demonization, (b) pollution, (c) threat to the social order, and (d) apocalypticism” (p. 11). Kienzle rightly points out that the anti-heretical struggle, so forcefully supported by the Cistercians until the arrival of the Inquisition, was linked to a much more general programme of reform and crusade pushed forward by the Church in the second half of the twelfth and the first half of the thirteenth centuries. Just as Cistercians became involved in the pastoral reform and the propaganda for crusades elsewhere, their public rhetoric linked the anti-heretical campaigns to other crusade ventures and more general reformist endeavours. Within this analytical framework, Kienzle interprets the single texts with great attention to detail and nuance, while linking the texts to the individual propagandists’ activities and careers. On this level the study is very successful, covering much unknown material and uncovering large territories of uncharted mental landscapes. There is, however, a slight risk of over-interpretation by reading too much into the texts when it comes to investigating the thoughts and attitudes of the heretics themselves. It is indeed doubtful if, as Kienzle claims, “it is possible to uncover the sub-text and reconstruct the historical reality [sic!] of dissidence beneath the language of the polemics attacking it” (p. 23). These propagandist texts were not aimed at discussing the heretics’ own beliefs and concerns; on the contrary, they were meant to paint a grim picture of heresy steeped in the Church’s own selfreferential ideology. They thus obscured rather than elucidated what the heretics themselves might have thought. Nevertheless, Kienzle presents an in-depth picture of the Cistercians’ involvement in the struggle against the Albigensian heretics and its effects both within and outside their order and she has made it clear that the Cistercians’ activities as papal propagandist in Languedoc must be read in a much larger context of religious reform and crusading activity led by the papacy in the decades before and after 1200.

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There are a number of unfortunate misprints (e.g. p. 29: “Urban V” instead of “Urban IV”) and one wonders why it was necessary to include as many as six pages of abbreviations if the author uses a perfectly reasonable author-cum-short-title reference system in her footnotes. But these are minor and possibly pedantic points of criticism of a book which competently presents important new aspects of the Church’s struggle against the Albigensian heretics. Christoph T. Maier Universität Zürich Antony Leopold, How to Recover the Holy Land: The Crusade Proposals of the Late Thirteenth and Early Fourteenth Centuries. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2000. Pp. x, 231. ISBN 0 7546 0120 X. Attitudes to the crusade and attempts to plan and organize such projects were always part and parcel of developments in the Christian West. There were vested interests and attempts were often made to draw from an expedition to the Orient particular and not always marginal profits. Therefore both crusade-making and crusadeplanning cannot be discussed within the framework of the history of the crusades to the Near East, nor can they be squarely placed under the heading of that literature which was devoted to the theme de recuperatione Terrae Sanctae. Anchored in both, it transcends their scope. The problem has to be viewed in its European setting. Account had to be taken of political, social, economic, intellectual and religious changes current in Europe. It is precisely the absence of such a broad approach that marks Leopold’s study as yet another dissertation or monograph on the subject of de recuperatione Terrae Sanctae treatises. It may be compared to the German dissertations dealing with the same subjects, namely, E. Stickel, Der Fall von Akkon: Untersuchungen zum Abklingen des Kreuzzugsgedankens am Ende des 13. Jahrhunderts (Berne, 1975); L. Thier, Kreuzzugsbemühungen unter Papst Clemens V. 1305–1314 (Düsseldorf, 1973). Both of these studies, though important in regard to the subject-matter of the de recuperatione, are conspicuously absent from Leopold’s study. The first chapter of the study attempts to reassess the motives of the authors who wrote proposals for recovering the Holy Land and to profile them individually to explain the origins and purpose of their recovery treatises. The second chapter assesses their treatment of preparations for the crusade, such as the pacification of Europe, recruitment, leadership and finance. The third chapter explores their treatment of spiritual issues such as conversion and motives for crusaders. Chapters four and five aim at tracing the development of the strategic advice of the treatises and their impact on each other as well as on the crusade planned in Europe. Chapter six covers the advice on the establishment of a new kingdom of Jerusalem. Chapter seven deals with crusade proposals and crusades after 1336. The study, a revised version of a Ph.D. thesis, aims to provide a comprehensive

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study of crusade proposals between 1290 and 1336. Although he places the crusade proposals in a total vacuum, on the whole Leopold’s is a well-documented description of the de recuperatione treatises composed between the years 1290 and 1336. What is lacking, however, is not just the background but a more analytical attitude to the treatises and their authors. The author describes in detail the context of the plans without any attempt to classify them and its authors or to specify the main characteristics of the plans. There are also a few mistakes or inaccuracies. For example, the author attributes the relationship between the two Jerusalems, the celestial and the earthly solely to Scriptures (p. 87), completely failing to point out the importance of the subject in the patristic and theological literature of the Middle Ages as well as in the chronicles of the First Crusade and its immense popularity during the twelfth century (see, e.g., my “Bernard of Clairvaux’s Preaching of the Third Crusade and Orality”, in Oral History of the Middle Ages and the Spoken Word in Context, ed. Gerhard Jaritz and Michael Richter (Krems and Budapest, 2001), pp. 188–95); similarly the idea common in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries of the Holy Land as the inheritance (patrimonim) of Christ is presented as used by Martin of Paris preaching the Fourth Crusade (p. 87), rather than by Bernard of Clairvaux who earlier made it so popular through his sermons for the Second Crusade (see Schein, ibid.). In the introduction to his book the author argues that previous historians of the crusades, such as J. Delaville le Roulx, N. Housley, C. Tyerman and myself, argued that the proposals “were intended as propaganda only [p. 45] and that on the whole their importance was underestimated”. This is a most confusing argument. First of all, studies as, e.g., N. Housley’s “Pope Clement V and the Crusades of 1309–1310” (Journal of Medieval History, 8 (1982), 2–43), not to speak of other studies of the aforementioned scholars clearly demonstrate that certain proposals and even entire plans were adopted and even executed. Second, this statement contradicts Leopold’s own conclusion: “the impact of the proposals on Europeans and European crusade plans was minimal, and was limited to advice given on strategy” (p. 206). Sylvia Schein University of Haifa Mediterraneo medievale: Cristiani, musulmani ed eretici tra Europa e Oltremare, ed. Marco Meschini (Pubblicazioni dell’Università Cattolica. Scienze Storiche, 74). Milano: Vita e Pensiero, 2001. Pp. xvi, 172. ISBN 88 343 0052 1. Tolerance and Intolerance: Social Conflict in the Age of the Crusades, ed. Michael Gervers and James M. Powell. Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press, 2001. Pp. xx, 192. ISBN 0 8156 2869 2 (hardback); 0 8156 2870 6 (paperback). These two collections bring together a number of articles of interest to historians of the crusades. It is not possible in a brief review to do justice to the seven articles in Mediterraneo and the twelve in Tolerance, articles in general of high quality; I

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will here merely give a brief overview, focusing on articles directly touching the crusades. Mediterraneo publishes papers from a 1998 conference in Milan. Luigi Russo gives a clear and useful overview of the principal Latin sources concerning the First Crusade. His discussion of the relations between the texts is at times cursory; he affirms that it is “now accepted” (p. 53, n. 14) that Petrus Tudebodus and Raymond d’Aguilers used the anonymous Gesta Francorum; in fact, it is neither accepted nor clear, as a close look at the texts themselves, or at recent work by Jean Flori, amply demonstrates. Readers may be amused or slightly annoyed by the fact that throughout his article, Russo puts “prima crociata” in quotation marks. Giuseppe Ligato argues that the knights who established their rule in Outremer imposed an essentially feudal order on a subjected, primarily Muslim, population. This created a “colonized” peasantry where Muslims were reduced to servile status (growing rarer in Europe) and discouraged from converting to Christianity. The strength of the nobility was moreover not inhibited with the counterbalancing forces that existed in much of Europe: strong monarchies, Roman law, communes. Miriam Tessera examines European accounts of the battle of Montgisard. Several authors present the battle as a miraculous victory in which, due to the relic of the Holy Cross and the intervention of St George, the Christian army, presented in biblical terms reminiscent of the army of Israel, crushes the numerically superior infidel host. Elena Bellomo analyses the place of the First Crusade in Genoese chronicles of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, showing how the decision to participate in the crusade represented a formative moment in Genoese civic institutions. The celebration of Genoa’s role in the crusades is a crucial element in Genoese identity; no other Italian city gives such a prominent place to the crusades in its historiography. Tolerance grew out of the 1995 Montreal meeting of the SSCLE; the six years from conference to publication explain why some of the pieces seem a bit dated. David Hay examines chroniclers’ descriptions of the massacres perpetrated by crusaders in Jerusalem in July 1099. He convincingly shows that these descriptions are exaggerated for ideological and religious reasons by Christian, Muslim and Jewish authors; moreover, modern historians have been too quick to accept these exaggerations, suggesting that all or almost all the non-Christian population of Jerusalem was butchered. In fact, as various sources show, large numbers of Jewish and Muslim captives were subsequently ransomed. Yet while Hay is right to point out that exaggeration is de rigueur in these texts, surely the fact that all the chronicles emphasize the severity of the massacre suggests that the crusaders’ actions were unusually brutal. Hay credits Raymond d’Aguilers as the most reliable witness of the siege of Albara, the only witness to affirm that the crusaders were relatively lenient to those Muslims who capitulated; yet this same Raymond affirms that in Jerusalem the blood reached the reins of one’s horse – an obvious exaggeration, but one that communicates the unusual brutality of the massacre. Hay’s cautionary note is welcome, but one can still affirm, as does Yaacov Lev in the

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same volume (p. 11), that the First Crusade was “marked by atrocities and largescale massacres of civilian populations committed by the crusaders”. Lev’s article, “Prisoners of War during the Fatimid-Ayyubid Wars with the Crusaders”, presents a useful overview of the different ways that Fatimid and Ayyubid rulers treated their prisoners: ransoming them, selling them into slavery, exchanging them for Muslim captives, and at times killing them. The liberation of Muslim captives in Christian hands is a pious duty, pursued intermittently by various Muslim rulers, ostentatiously by the Fatimids. While Lev renders the diversity and complexity of Muslim politics, he at times homogenizes the Christian other, as when he speaks of Fatimid raids against “Christian shipping” (p. 15): which Christians – Genoans, Pisans, Venetians, Byzantines? The Fatimids were savvy enough to distinguish between enemies and potential allies in the Christian camp; is the reference to “Christian shipping” in the text, or is it Lev’s? James Ryan studies the relations between Latins and Armenians over the course of the crusades, showing how an initial rapprochement in the twelfth century (intermarriage of nobles, union of churches) gives way in the thirteenth to the dissolution of church union and in the fourteenth to an affirmation of doctrinal and ritual differences. In the religious sphere at least, familiarity bred intolerance and mutual distrust. Reuven Amitai shows how the failure of an anti-Mamluk alliance in the 1270s between Prince Edward of England and the Mongol Abagha Ilkhan was largely due to the tepid response of Edward and the Frankish barons, not due to the Mongols, as has been previously thought. Adam Knobler traces the hopes and rumours of help from mysterious allies from the East who will rise up, destroy Islam, and reconquer Jerusalem: Prester John, according to various thirteenthcentury Latin chroniclers; mysterious Jews, according to seventeenth-century rumours that found their way into London newspapers. What has all this to do with the catchwords “Tolerance and Intolerance” of the title? The editors, in the introduction, affirm that the subject of their book is the “prehistory” of tolerance “which has not received sufficient attention” (p. xiii). Yet certainly the idea of tolerance has received attention from historians, philosophers, lexicographers; the editors do not cite a single article or book on the idea of tolerance, and make no attempt to define it or to address the question of whether it is a useful category for helping us understand the Middle Ages (much recent research argues that it is not). Fortunately, most of the contributors avoid the issue altogether. Others attempt, with limited success, to hook their subject on to the notion of tolerance: Annetta Ilieva’s interesting survey of Cypriot chroniclers’ portrayals of Greeks, poulains, crusaders and Saracens tells us nothing about “tolerance” or “intolerance”, despite her efforts to affirm the contrary. Andrew Jotischky sounds a welcome cautionary note when he shows how conflicts between Greek Orthodox and Latin Catholic clergy in the crusader states are often better understood as conflicts over power and authority than as expressions of fuzzy notions of “tolerance” or “intolerance”. The reader has to wait until the book’s final paragraph (in an article by Rainer Schwinges which serves as a useful introduction for

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Anglophone readers to his 1977 book, Kreuzzugsideologie und Toleranz: Studien zu Wilhelm von Tyrus), to have the question of terminology finally addressed. Schwinges notes that William of Tyre uses the words tolerantia and tolerare to describe “enduring or suffering from hunger and thirst”. Schwinges suggests other words from William’s lexicon as equivalents to the modern “tolerance”: humanitas, pacientia, etc. (p. 131). On the book’s back cover, one reads “Tolerance and intolerance therefore are terms that can obscure as much as enlighten.” Indeed, one wonders then why the editors chose to place them in the title of this collection of essays. John V. Tolan Université de Nantes A Middle English Chronicle of the First Crusade: The Caxton Eracles, ed. and trans. Dana Cushing, 2 vols (Text and Studies in Religion, 88a+b). Lewiston, NY: The Edwin Mellen Press, 2001. Pp. xxv, 915. ISBN 0 7734 7425 0 (vol. 1), 0 7734 7427 7 (vol. 2). This is a handsome, two-volume edition of a prized early printed book, William Caxton’s translation of the Old French (OF) account of the First Crusade, L’estoire de Eracles empereur et la conqueste de la terre d’Outremer , itself a translation of the first nine books of William of Tyre. Dana Cushing has provided a revised Middle English (ME) text and a facing-page modern English translation, with the intention of making “accessible to the scholar of the present day a text significant not only for its story but its history” (p. viii). Historical notes, a short and eclectic bibliography and an index are at the end of volume two; in volume one the text is prefaced by a brief introduction and an essay entitled “Six degrees of separation”. It would be rather neat if the “six degrees” referred to the remoteness of the ME Eracles from the eyewitness accounts of the events it treats, thus: eyewitnesses à Albert of Aachen à William of Tyre à OF Eracles à William Caxton à Dana Cushing à us, the readers. However, this is not the case. The title refers to the psychological theory framed by Stanley Milgrim in 1967 and recently exposed as “the academic equivalent of an urban myth” (Judith Kleinfeld, Psychology Today, April, 2002). An essay exploring the workings of Godfrey’s mouvance by way of an analogy with North American celebrities would seem, anyway, to be less important than demonstrating the value of the new edition, which Cushing fails satisfactorily to do. Historians of the First Crusade are thoroughly familiar with the hierarchy of texts relating to the expedition. There are eyewitness accounts, all to some extent interdependent; a handful of contemporary narratives known to be based on one or more of the eyewitnesses, and there are problematic texts like Albert of Aachen and the Chanson d’Antioche. The account by William of Tyre, written three generations later, is regarded as of limited value. It can be consulted in R. B. C. Huygens’s

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excellent edition, which identifies the sources, and the English translation by E. A. Babcock and A. C. Krey, though out of print, remains useful (it is not, however, a critical edition, as Cushing claims). The OF Eracles has been shown to be both more and less than a word-for-word translation of William’s text, and Caxton’s translation introduced further variation. There is no satisfactory edition of the OF Eracles, but Mary Noyes Colvin’s edition of Caxton’s version (Early English Text Society, 1893) used a clear modern typeface and added a marginal commentary, footnotes recording instances where Caxton did not translate the OF accurately, endnotes identifying points of interest, a vocabulary, and indexes of names and places. Colvin collated Caxton with his OF exemplar, and drew on the Recueil text of William of Tyre. Thus she was able to identify by which translator interpolations had been made, and her edition remains indispensable for anyone interested in textual transmission and historiography. In addition, since the Caxton is a printed text, it is perfectly possible to see the original (some ten copies survive), or the facsimile published in 1973 (Da Capo Press). There is also an edition printed by William Morris at the Kelmscott Press in 1893, which is a beautiful volume, an accurate transcript, and pellucidly easy to read. How does Cushing’s edition fare in such eminent company? It has to be said, not well. First, it has been ill served by the publisher: a good copy-editor would have eradicated the typographical errors which bestrew the introduction and removed the duplicate list of endnotes at p. xx. There is no consistent policy with regard to names: for example Buymont remains Buymont in translation; Godefroy becomes Godefrey, but Gaultier is Walter. The last-named is interesting, because Albert of Aachen (called “Aix” by Cushing, just as William is “Tyre”) called him Walter Senzavohir, or “SansAvoir”, usually translated as “Penniless”. Colvin pointed out that the OF read SansSavoir (a detail suggesting oral transmission at some point), and Caxton translated this as ‘without knowleche’. At his first appearance in Cushing (p. 77 and not, as the index has, p. 95) he is called Walter the Foolish in the heading (explained in a note), but in the text immediately below, “without knowleche to his surname” is translated “his surname is unknown”. And who would guess that “Huon Lemayne” is the king of France’s brother, Hugh Magnus or Le Maisné? Place-names are usually given in their modern versions, for example Semlin for Maleuylle, so why not translate the “Braas” of St George either literally as “Arm” or with the modern word “Straits”? The answers are not in the notes, which are inconveniently in volume two. (A disarming lack of irony permits the editor to mention Caxton’s “many typographical errors”, and to refer to the “inconvenience” of Colvin’s appendices.) Most seriously, Cushing’s edition leaves Caxton’s text without a historiographical context. We cannot be absolutely sure at any point whether we are reading a late twelfth-century account of the First Crusade, a version written in OF in the first third of the thirteenth century, a late fourteenth-century and occasionally inaccurate translation, or an emendation by the twentieth-century editor. If we believe (pace

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postmodernism) that there is a recoverable narrative of events, then we need its layers of textualization to be made explicit. Thus, however readable the modern English translation, the Eracles remains a literary curiosity rather than a historiographical tool. The critical apparatus is disappointing. In fact, any student with $120 to spare and looking for a readable version of William of Tyre or of the Eracles would do better to spend the money on a visit to a library with the Babcock and Krey translation, or the Colvin edition. Susan B. Edgington Open University (UK) Alexios G. C. Savvides and Benjamin Hendrickx, Introducing Byzantine History (A Manual for Beginners). Paris: Editions Hêrodotos, 2001. Pp. 254. ISBN 2 911859 13 8. In the last two decades, there has been an increased interest in Byzantine history and especially in Byzantine art in Anglophone countries, indicated by the number of books and articles that have been published, by the establishment of centres for the study of Byzantine history and by the art exhibitions, conferences and seminars which regularly take place. In spite of this activity, however, there is a noticeable lack of introductory books on Byzantine history. The only two introductory books that have been written in English are old and collective works (Byzantium: An Introduction to East Roman Civilisation, ed. N. Baynes and H. S. L. Moss, Oxford, 1948; Byzantium: An Introduction, ed. P. Whiting, Oxford, 1971). A. G. C. Savvides’s and B. Hendrickx’s new book fills this gap. The two authors state in the introduction (p. 10) that they undertook the task with the aim of offering the general reader a popularized and easily comprehensible summary of the intricacies of the Byzantine period and providing the undergraduate student of Greek history, language, literature and civilization in Anglophone universities with a practical beginner’s guide. The book is divided into twelve thematic chapters, each accompanied by tables and end-notes (pp. 19–105, 235–42), an appendix of the main sources of Byzantine history (Greek, Latin, Arabic, Armenian, African, Persian, Slavonic and Jewish) (pp. 107–61), an extensive chronology of the main events in Byzantium (pp. 163–86), a list of Late Roman emperors, Byzantine emperors, Latin emperors of Constantinople as well as of the rulers of the Greek and Latin states which were established in the lands of the former Byzantine empire after 1204 (Epeiros, Trebizond, Thessaly, Thessalonica, Achaia, Morea) (pp. 187–94), a thematic division of books on Byzantine topics written in English mainly (pp. 197–232), six maps of the empire, and a table of contents. The first chapter offers some basic information on the chronological definition and divisions of the Byzantine era. The second deals with the terms “Byzantine”, “Roman”, “Greek” and “Hellene”. In the third chapter the three main characteristic

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elements of the Byzantine empire – that is the Greek/Hellenic, the Roman and the Christian – are outlined, as well as the elements of multi-ethnicity, multi-linguality and multi-dogmatism. The fourth chapter offers an overview of the main events of Byzantine history from the fourth to the fifteenth centuries. Chapters 5 to 7 deal briefly with Byzantine language and literature, imperial absolutism and the Byzantine Orthodox Church respectively. The neighbours of the empire are listed in chapter 8 and Byzantium’s relations with the crusader movement as well as the consequences of the Fourth Crusade and the history of the Latin states in the lands of the former Byzantine empire after 1204 are surveyed in chapter 11, where the term ‘crusade’ and other related terms are also examined. Chapter 9, which deals with the relations between Byzantium and African states and peoples, offers useful information even to the advanced reader. The relations with the Slavic peoples and the Muslims, as well as the relations with the Latin West, will be examined in a companion volume, entitled Byzantium and the Medieval World, the two authors promise us (p. 11), and therefore are not treated here. Chapter 10 answers the question whether feudalism existed in Byzantium and chapter 12 discusses the birth of Byzantine studies in the West after 1453 and surveys their development to the present day. The book delivers what it promises. It is informative, well structured and stimulating. Its main strengths are the comprehensive bibliography and the many chronological and thematical tables. In particular, the table setting out the main sources of Byzantine history is easy to follow and provides information on three levels: the name and dates of the author of the source; the title of the work and information about the language in which it is written; and the chronological period covered. Also useful are the extracts from contemporary sources, as well as from modern historians (some of them translated into English by Savvides and Hendrickx), which are cited in frames in the chapters. These familiarize the reader with views and works of contemporary as well as of modern authors. A few small points: the bibliography does not include the published works, either in the original or in English translation (if there is one), of the sources on Byzantium which are cited in the table of main sources. The table/diagram of the independent and semi-independent states in the lands of the Byzantine empire after 1204 until the sixteenth century (pp. 48–49) is rather difficult to follow. In the battle of Pelagonia in 1259, Michael Palaeologos faced a triple coalition (not a double one, p. 51) consisting of Epeirotes, Morea Franks and also Angevins. But these are minor issues which should not detract from the fundamental qualities of this excellent, scholarly introductory book, which makes enjoyable reading. Aphrodite Papayianni University of London

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The Second Crusade: Scope and Consequences, ed. Jonathan Phillips and Martin Hoch. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2001. Pp. xxi, 234. ISBN 0 71905 710 8 (hardback), 0 7190 5711 6 (paperback). The Second Crusade has for too long been the poor relation of the spectacular expeditions from the West that preceded and followed it. Without either the clear sense of purpose provided by the chroniclers of the First Crusade, or the spectacular military exploits of the Lionheart, the expedition led by Conrad III and Louis VII between 1147 and 1149 appeared so fruitless to earlier generations of historians as almost to constitute an embarrassment. The Second Crusade is now enjoying the sustained attention of historians who, building on the work begun half a century ago by Giles Constable on contemporary views of the expedition, have achieved a complete reassessment of its aims, strategies and accomplishments. This volume follows MUP’s The First Crusade: Aims and Impact (1996), also edited by Jonathan Phillips, both in publishing style and in calling on the services of a few of the same contributors (Susan Edgington, Carole Hillenbrand, Alan Murray). But it is closer in spirit to the collection edited by Michael Gervers ten years ago (The Second Crusade and the Cistercians, New York, 1992), in so far as it continues the debate begun there about the Franco-German axis of the crusade and the role of St Bernard in defining the crusade’s purpose and ideals. The present volume shows how far we have moved in the last ten years towards a new conception of the Second Crusade’s purpose as understood by contemporaries. For although both Phillips himself, in his essay “Papacy, Empire and Second Crusade”, and Rudolf Hiestand, “The papacy and the Second Crusade”, agree that Eugenius III’s bull Quantum praedecessores was a direct response to the fall of Edessa, both also see deeper dimensions to the planning stage. Phillips argues that Eugenius III envisioned a papal–imperial alliance as a necessary precondition for a successful crusade, and that Conrad III’s participation was always an intended outcome of the papal bull. This contrasts with the traditionally held view that Conrad was persuaded to take the cross only at a late stage in the emotional afterglow of St Bernard’s preaching. Adherents of the older view will find support in Hiestand’s insistence that Quantum praedecessores was addressed to Louis and the French, and that in fact the pope was reluctant to allow Conrad to go to the East because he feared Sicilian intervention in Italy in the emperor’s absence. The most valuable aspect of Hiestand’s work, however, is his expert demonstration of the papal curia’s increased involvement in the business of the Latin Church in the East during the decade preceding the fall of Edessa. It has become increasingly difficult for historians to maintain that the Iberian dimension to the Second Crusade was a matter of mere chance. In an important article in the Journal of Ecclesiastical History (1997), Phillips argued that St Bernard considered the crusade as a three-pronged attack on “enemies of Christ” on Christendom’s southern and northern as well as it eastern frontier. Further support for this view is provided by the excellent essay by Nikolas Jaspert, “Capta est

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Tortosa, clavis Christianorum: Tortosa and the Crusades”, in the present volume. However, some of the arguments deployed in favour of the view that Iberia was seen as an integral part of crusading can work both ways. A sceptic might argue, for instance, that entrusting of the bodies of English crusaders killed at Tortosa to the canons of the Holy Sepulchre for burial indicates a hierarchy in which the Holy Land still stood at the peak, rather than a perceived link between Tortosa and Jerusalem. Such a link, however, is maintained by Linda Paterson in an exhaustive analysis of Marcabru’s Vers del lavador, which concludes that the poem both responded to the failure in the East in 1148 and looked ahead to hoped-for victory at Tortosa. Other papers linking the Iberian campaign to events in the East are Matthew Bennett’s “Military aspects of the conquest of Lisbon, 1147” and Susan Edgington’s “Albert of Aachen, St Bernard and the Second Crusade”, while the northern element is addressed by Kurt Villads Jensen’s “Denmark and the Second Crusade: the formation of a crusader state?”. The consequences of failure in the East are discussed in essays by Martin Hoch, “The price of failure: the Second Crusade as a turning-point in the history of the Latin East?” and the late Timothy Reuter, “The ‘non-crusade’ of 1149–50”. Hoch refutes the view that the crusaders’ assault on Damascus threw the Damascenes into the arms of Nur al-Din, pointing out that as late as 1151 Frankish troops were still deployed in defence of Damascene independence. Moreover, although William of Tyre, looking back from the gloom of the 1180s, thought that the failure of the Second Crusade in the East marked the beginning of the end for the kingdom of Jerusalem, such a view was untenable in the 1150s, which saw considerable territorial expansion. In the West, an immediate attempt to expunge the failure at Damascus by launching a new crusade was widely touted in the aftermath of defeat. Reuter’s theme is to examine what kind of a crusade such an expedition might have been, had it in fact unfolded. There is considerable recent literature on this footnote to crusading history, and Reuter, in summarizing it, places himself alongside Phillips and Constable, in contrast to Mayr-Harting, by distinguishing between crusading plans and the anti-Byzantine sentiment and propaganda of 1149–50. Here, then, is one respect in which the “wider front” theory of the Second Crusade does not appear to be sustainable. The Second Crusade: Scope and Consequences will perhaps be especially welcomed by those of us who teach undergraduate courses on the crusades. In this context the essay by Carole Hillenbrand “‘Abominable Acts’: the career of Zengi”, is particularly valuable in providing a lucid and up-to-date account of Zengi’s career before the event for which he is best known in the West, the conquest of Edessa. Hillenbrand, deftly negotiating the ethnic and political complexities of the twelfthcentury Islamic Near East, enables us to place Zengi into the context of the revival of jihad ideals. Her essay goes some way toward providing a balance to the otherwise western perspective of the collection. As a final suggestion, should a future volume be envisaged on the Third Crusade, perhaps a prospective editor might go further in

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maintaining such balance by including the perspective of the indigenous Christian communities of the Near East. Andrew Jotischky Lancaster University Elizabeth Siberry, The New Crusaders: Images of the Crusades in the 19th and Early 20th Centuries (The Nineteenth Century Series). Aldershot: Ashgate, 2000. Pp. xii, 228. ISBN 1 85928 333 0. Elizabeth Siberry has cast a wide net in her effort to trace the development of the image of the crusades in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The result is a volume that will prove useful both to graduate students and advanced researchers. She opens with a discussion of the historiography of the crusades, exploring not only well-known works, but also pathways that have largely, and often deservedly, been lost to contemporary scholarship. Her focus throughout this volume is on the United Kingdom, but she does not hesitate to bring in apt work of continental writers. What is immediately evident is that controversial views on the crusade did not suddenly appear in the nineteenth century. This point needs to be made because much of postmodern scholarship has taken the form of a revolt against Romanticism and its nineteenth-century offshoots, but Siberry correctly points to the eighteenth century, and especially to the works of Hume, Robertson and Gibbon, as seminal in the formation of modern historical interpretations of the crusades. She also alludes to the views of Voltaire, but does not, unfortunately, examine the influence of continental intellectual currents on British authors. Rather, she presents careful descriptions of the works of Charles Mills and other nineteenth-century historians chiefly in the context of British historiography. But her most valuable contribution lies in the comprehensiveness of her treatment, which even includes popularizers like George Payne Rainsford James, author of more than one hundred and fifty volumes, and much appreciated at the time, though of fleeting reputation. Her research suggests that religious sentiments and national feelings led some to admire the crusades, but religion could also inspire criticisms by some authors. Much of this writing sprang from a strong moral sense, but there were also authors who, like Mills and Cox, found various practical results arising from the crusades. There was no clearly dominant view of the crusades. Instead, they were woven into the intellectual fabric of the age in ways that depended heavily on the context in which they were used. Siberry touches virtually every current of thought and emotion in this age, devoting chapters to major topics. In a chapter on the nineteenth-century passion for crusader ancestors, she captures the linkages that bound many whose nobility had been quite recently achieved and who were anxious to demonstrate that it was deserved for something more than money, to seek to identify with a past shared with the traditional aristocracies. This was not confined to England, as the Courtois

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forgeries and the salles des croisades in Versailles show, but she is able to make it clear that many of those claiming crusade ancestors in England also had no evidence to support that claim. The age especially celebrated the heroism of Richard, Coeur de Lion, the most authentic English crusade figure and leader of the Third Crusade, often coupled with Saladin in a sort of tandem of heroes. Of course, the military aspect of the crusades played directly into the nationalism and imperialism of nineteenth century England, whether in defence of the Greeks against the Turks or the Turks against Russia, all in the interests of British interests in the eastern Mediterranean. The romance reached something of a fever level in the First World War, with T. E. Lawrence and General Allenby, whose military victories have left us with an enduring and often unfortunate legacy. Siberry provides interesting insights into the manipulation of religion by members of the clergy as an instrument of patriotism, aimed at supporting the military policies of government. The crusades provided historical validation for this kind of effort and were accordingly invoked. But this approach did not escape criticism. Siberry’s work is a topography of the differences of view to be found in various sectors of society and the manner in which these affected the development of the image of the crusades. But the dominant figure in this book is not a historian, but the novelist, Sir Walter Scott. In Ivanhoe, The Betrothed, and The Talisman, Scott exercised an influence that eclipsed that of any other writer of the period, making the crusades a part of the growing-up of boys and, to a lesser extent, girls. His influence was greatest in the English-speaking world, but it was not limited to there. Moreover, he found imitators among other writers, including those writing directly for youth. While Siberry’s stress on the influence of Tasso’s Gerusalemme liberata on literature, art and music, including on the works of Scott, might suggest that he was of equal importance to him, she does not, I believe, distinguish sufficiently the audiences to whom these works appealed. Elizabeth Siberry deserves credit for undertaking and completing a task that would not have appealed to many of us, but which we all can appreciate in its final form. This volume is a treasure-house of crusade memorabilia. James M. Powell Syracuse University (Emeritus) Karen Skovgaard-Petersen, A Journey to the Promised Land: Crusading Theology in the Historia de profectione Danorum in Hierosolymam (c. 1200). Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum Press, 2001. Pp. 84. ISBN 87 7289 714 7. According to the short narrative Historia de profectione Danorum in Hierosolymam, the news of the fall of Jerusalem reached the Danish royal court by papal letter at Christmas 1187 and caused great sorrow and bewilderment. A joint Danish– Norwegian expedition set out for the Holy Land to help reconquer the city, but arrived

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too late to take part in the battle as a truce had already been set up in September 1192. Therefore the party returned home after having paid a visit to the holy places, and the whole journey may seem to have been more or less in vain. However, this study by Karen Skovgaard-Petersen shows that on a spiritual level the expedition may have been termed a success, because the participants are described as having reached their spiritual goal, and she argues that this was indeed the message that the anonymous writer wanted to give. The study demonstrates that throughout the narrative the expedition is described in crusading terms and that the participants are seen as followers of Christ, whether they die and receive their reward as martyrs or whether they survive and abandon their worldly possessions in their quest to take up their crosses and go to the Holy Land. The study locates a great number of crusading topoi in the text and draws parallels with the way these themes are handled in the chronicles of the First and the Third Crusades, and in papal bulls. By analysing the text in terms of the similarities with the literary tradition for descriptions of crusades established during the twelfth century, Karen Skovgaard-Petersen is able to conclude very convincingly that the author of De profectione was most familiar with the contemporary “discourse on crusading”. However, despite the many parallels of themes and narrative structure, she has not found any direct borrowings from known crusading texts, and is therefore not able to establish just how the anonymous, but probably Norwegian, author got his knowledge of this tradition. The study thus ventures into fields which have hitherto been much neglected in the scholarship on this narrative: its relation to contemporary crusading literature and crusading theology. It also stands as a corrective to the statement made by Christopher Tyerman in 1998 that the Historia de profectione Danorum in Hierosolymam contains no standard rhetoric of the cross (The Invention of the Crusades, London, 1998, p. 32, cf. Skovgaard-Petersen, p. 10, n. 14). The study accompanies Karen Skovgaard-Petersen’s work on a welcome new critical edition of the text with a commentary and an English translation by Peter Fisher, which will, it is hoped, appear soon. Ane L. Bysted University of Southern Denmark

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SOCIETY FOR THE STUDY OF THE CRUSADES AND THE LATIN EAST BULLETIN No. 23, 2003

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Editorial Last year the new journal entitled Crusades was started, although, unfortunately, the delivery has been delayed. The journal allows the Society to publish articles and texts; encourages research in neglected subfields; invites a number of authors to deal with a specific problem within a comparative framework; initiates and reports on joint programmes; and offers reviews of books and articles. Editors: Benjamin Z. Kedar and Jonathan Riley-Smith; associate editor: Helen Nicholson; review editor: Christoph Maier. Colleagues may submit papers for consideration to either of the editors, Professor Benjamin Z. Kedar and Professor Jonathan S. C. Riley-Smith. A copy of the style sheet may be obtained either from one of the two editors or from the associate editor. The journal includes a section of book reviews. In order to facilitate the review editor’s work, could members please tell their publishers about the new journal and ask them to send copies to: Dr Christoph T. Maier, Review editor, Crusades, Sommergasse 20, CH-4056 Basel, Switzerland. Please note that Crusades reviews books concerned with any aspect(s) of the history of the crusades and the crusade movement, the military orders and the Latin settlements in the Eastern Mediterranean, but not books which fall outside this range. The cost of the journal to individual members is £20, $30 or !30; the cost to institutions and non-members is £65, $95 or !103. Cheques should be made payable to SSCLE. The Bulletin continues to appear as the final fascicule of the journal. Contents and form of the Bulletin have not been changed. Members may opt to receive the Bulletin alone at the current membership price (single £11, $15 or !15; student £6, $9 or !9; joint £15, $23 or !23). Those members who did not subscibe to the journal will receive it as before from the Bulletin editor to whom the publisher of Crusades sends the copies. The editors wish to apologize for the delays that resulted from the new procedure. Members will be asked to furnish their information and their payments to the treasurer late in autumn, and the next Bulletin has to be finished by the following February. Later additions have to be postponed until next year’s Bulletin. Although the Society does not have a formal website, there are two websites in existence set up by previous treasurers, Michael Markowski and Helen Nicholson: http://people.westminstercollege.edu/faculty/mmarkowski/ssclehome.html http://freespace.virgin.net/nigel.nicholson/SSCLE These contain information about how to join the Society and attempt to answer various questions about the crusades commonly asked by members of the public. There are also links to conferences and publications that may be of interest. Karl Borchardt

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Message from the President Dear Member, Having recently been elected president of our Society, I would like to thank all the members – together with the new officers, Sophia Menache, general secretary, Luis García Guijarro, vice secretary, Tom Asbridge, treasurer, Karl Borchardt, bulletin editor – for their faith in me. You can rest assured that we will strive to carry on making a success of the Society, just as Benjamin Kedar, my predecessor, and his team have done before us. I hereby express my gratitude to them all for their great work accomplished to the benefit of us all. In early September I spoke for the Society at the General Assembly of the Comité international des Sciences historiques, and in concord with Benjamin Kedar I suggested that we should turn our attention to oriental Christians living in the Frankish communities of Syria-Palestine, during the next International Congress of Historical Sciences at Sydney in July 2005. Could those of you who would like to make a presentation on any aspect of this subject please let me know as soon as possible. The officers of the Society met at Paris on 23 November 2002. The main point on the agenda was the organisation of the next colloquium of the SSCLE at Istanbul from 25 to 29 August 2004. The main theme of this conference will be the Fourth Crusade and its consequences; but of course, members of the Society will be able to talk on any subject pertaining to the history of the Crusades and the Latin East, as was the case at ClermontFerrand in 1995 and at Jerusalem in 1999. In Istanbul, we hope to secure the cooperation of the two universities of Istanbul and of the Bosphorus, as represented by Prof. Iþin Demirkent and Prof. Nevra Necipoglu. I would like to express my gratitude to our two colleagues for the help that their collaboration will bring to the organisation of this important event in the life of our Society. As you know, the publication of the first volume of Crusades was delayed. This explains why the insert Bulletin reached you behind schedule. The editors of Crusades are intent upon securing a regular publication and call upon all who would like to present one of their research papers. I have no doubt that Crusades will become an essential source of information for us all, and will become all the more indispensable due to the greatly increasing number of books and articles on the Crusades and the Latin East. Finally, in assent with Benjamin Kedar’s message in volume 21 of our Bulletin, I hope that in these troubled times historians of the Crusades and the Latin East will strive for a retrospective understanding of all the actors of history, Latins, Muslims, Greeks, oriental Christians and Jews in order strongly to denounce all and any utilisation of the past in order to justify political aims of any nation. Michel Balard

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Contents List of abbreviations .............................. .. .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 200 1.

Recent publications ........................ .. .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 200

2.

Recently completed theses ................. .. .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 215

3.

Papers read by members of the Society and others . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 215

4.

Forthcoming publications ................. .. .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 221

5.

Work in progress ............................ .. .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 228

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Theses in progress ........................... .. .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 232

7.

Fieldwork planned or undertaken recently . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 233

8.

News of interest to members: a) Conferences and seminars .............. .. .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 233 b) Other news ................................ .. .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 234

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Members’ queries ........................... .. .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 235

10. Officers of the Society ...................... .. .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 235 11. Income and expenditure account .......... .. .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 236 12. List of members and their addresses ....... .. .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 237

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List of abbreviations 20BS: XXe Congrès International des Études Byzantines, Paris, 19–25 August 2001. CLE-Seminar: The Crusades and the Latin East Seminar, Institute of Historical Research and Emmanuel College, Cambridge or London. La Commanderie: Institution des ordres militaires dans l’Occident médiéval, ed. Anthony Luttrell and Léon Pressouyre, Ouvrage publié avec le concours du Conservatoire Larzac templier et hospitalier et de la Société de l’histoire et du patrimoine de l’Ordre de Malte, Archéologie et histoire de l’art 14 (Paris: Éd. du Comité des travaux historiques et scientifiques, 2001 [published 2002]), 361pp. EFMLC: The Crusades and the Military Orders, Expanding the Frontiers of Medieval Latin Christianity, ed. Zsolt Hunyadi and József Laszlovszky (Budapest: CEU Department of Medieval Studies, 2001), xxiii+606pp. EI: The Encyclopedia of Islam. EncycCru: Encyclopedia of the Crusades, ed. Alan V. Murray (ABC-Clio, 2004). Gendering the Crusades, ed. Susan B. Edgington and Sarah Lambert (Cardiff: Univ. of Wales Press, 2001) [papers read at the IMC Leeds, July 2000]. Gesta: Dei Gesta per Francos, Crusade Studies in Honour of Jean Richard, ed. Michel Balard, Benjamin Z. Kedar and Jonathan Riley-Smith (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2001), 434pp. HES: International colloquium on the History of Egypt and Syria in the Fatimid, Ayyubid and Mamluk Eras, Katholieke Universiteit Leuven. IMC: International Medieval Congress, Kalamazoo or Leeds. Mezzogiorno: Il Mezzogiorno normanno-svevo e le Crociate, Atti delle quattordicesime giornate normanno-sveve Bari, 17–20 ottobre 2000, ed. Giosuè Musca (Bari, 2002). Migrations: Migrations et Diasporas Méditerranéennes (Xe – XVIe siècles), ed. Michel Balard and Alain Ducellier, Publications de la Sorbonne, Série Byzantina Sorbonensia 19 (Paris, 2002), 530pp. MO3: The Military Orders, vol. 3: Their History and Heritage, ed. William G. Zajac (Aldershot: Ashgate). Mosaic: Festschrift for Arthur H. S. Megaw, ed. J. Herrin, M. Mullett and Catherine OttenFroux, British School at Athens Studies 8 (London, 2001). P3ICCS: Proceedings of the Third International Congress of Cypriot Studies, 2 vols. (Nicosia, 2001). Runciman-Conference: Terceras Jornadas Internacionales: Medio siglo de estudios sobre las Cruzadas y las Órdenes Militares, 1951–2001, A Tribute to Sir Steven Runciman, Universidad de Zaragoza y Ayuntamiento de Teruel, Teruel (Aragon) Spain, 19–25 July 2001, ed. Luis Garía-Guijarro Ramos (Madrid: Castelló d’Impressió SL). ZDPV: Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins. 1. Recent publications Abd Rabu, Omar, Khirbet Birzeit research and excavation project 1996: the pottery, in: Journal of Palestinian Archaeology 1/1 (2000), 13–24, Arabic section 28–39; Khirbet Birzeit research and excavation project 1999: the pottery, in: ibid. 1/2 (2000), 7–18, Arabic section 13–25. Alessandri, P., Perpignan, la commanderie hospitalière de Bajoles: premiers éléments de recherche, in: Archéologie di Midi médiévale 11 (1993), 234–242.

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Amitai, Reuven, Whither the Ilkhanid army? Ghazan’s first campaign into Syria (1299–1300), in: Warfare in Inner Asian History, ed. Nicola Di Cosmo (Leiden: Brill, 2002), 221–264; Did Chinggis Khan have a Jewish teacher? An examination of an early fourteenth century Arabic text, in: The Intertwined Worlds of Islam: Essays in Memory of Hava Luzerns-Yafeh, ed. Nachem Ilan (Jerusalem, 2002), 459–476 [in Hebrew]. Antaki, P., Le château croisé de Beyrouth: étude préliminarie, in: ARAM Periodical 13/14 (2001/02), 323–353. Arbel, Benjamin, Cypriot villages from the Byzantine to the British period: observations on a recent book, in: Epetirida tou Kentrou Epistimonikon Erevnon 26 (Nicosia, 2000), 439–456; Supplying water to Famagusta: new evidence from the Venetian period, in: P3ICCS vol. 2 (Nicosia, 2001), 651–656; The Ionian Islands and Venice’s trading system during the sixteenth century, in: Acts of the Sixth International Pan-Ionian Congress, vol. 2 (Athens, 2001), 147–160; Roman Catholics and Greek-Orthodox in the early-modern Venetian state, in: The Three Religions, ed. N. Cohen and A. Heldrich (München, 2002), 73–86; The Treasure of Ayios Symeon: a micro-historical analysis of colonial relations in Venetian-ruled Cyprus, in: Kambos, Cambridge Papers in Modern Greek 10 (2002), 1–19. Asbridge, Thomas S., The Creation of the Principality of Antioch 1098–1130 (Woodbridge: Boydell, 2000), 272pp.; The impact of Islam and Byzantium upon the crusader community at Antioch, in: Transactions of the Royal Historical Society, 6th series, vol. 9 (1999), 305–325. Attiya, Hussein M., Saladin in legend and in history in the Latin writings, in: Bulletin of the Faculty of Arts, Meny Univ. (October 1997); The fief of service between the lord and the vassal: a reading of the Assises d’Antioche, in: Bulletin of the Faculty of Arts, Monofiya Univ. 35 (1998); Knowledge of Arabic in the crusader states in the 12th and 13th centuries, in: Journal of Medieval History 25/3 (1999), 203–213; Orderic Vitalis, historian of the crusade of 1101, in: Bulletin of the Faculty of Arts, Tanta Univ. 14 (January 2001). el-Azhari, Taef K., Research on medieval Syria in Egypt, 1950–2000, in: Asian Research Trends 12 (2002), 29–49 [The Centre for East Asian Cultural Studies for UNESCO, Tokyo, ed. Ishii Yoneo]. Bahat, Dan, The Golden Gate and the date of the Madaba Map, in: The Madaba Map Centenary, ed. M. Piccirillo and E. Alliata (Jerusalem, 1999), 254–255; Hospitals and hospices in Mamluk Jerusalem, in: Towns and Material Culture in the Medieval Middle East, ed. Yaakov Lev (Leiden: Brill, 1999), 73–88; Crusader Jerusalem, in: Knights of the Holy Land, ed. S. Rozenberg (Jerusalem: Israel Museum, 1999), 71–81; The borders of the Latin kingdom of Jerusalem at the eve of its demise, in: Qadmoniot 33/1 (2000), 66–67 [in Hebrew]. Balard, Michel, Gli statuti della Terrasanta (secoli XII–XIII), in: Legislazione e prassi istituzionale nell’Europa medievale: tradizioni normative, ordinamenti, circolazione mercantile (secoli XI–XV), ed. Gabriella Rossetti (2001), 367–377; Genova di fronte ad Alfonso V, in: XVI Congresso internazionale di storia della Corona d’Aragona, La Corona d’Aragona ai tempi di Alfonso il Magnanimo (Napoli, 2001), 1047–1054; L’amministrazione genovese e veneziana nel Mediteraneo orientale, in: Genova, Venezia e il Levante (secc. XII–XIV), Genova – Venezia, 10–14 marzo 2000, ed. Gherardo Ortalli and Dino Puncuh (Venezia, 2001), 201–212; Il Mezzogiorno svevo e la Quarta Crociata, in: Mezzogiorno 145–157; Genuensis civitas in extremo Europae: Caffa from the fourteenth to the fifteenth century, in: Medieval Frontiers: Concepts and Practices, ed. David Abulafia and Nora Berend (Aldershot, 2002), 143–151; Consoli d’Oltremare (secc. XII–XV), in: Comunità forestiere e «nationes» nell’Europa dei secoli XIII–XVI, ed. G. Petti Balbi (Napoli, 2002), 83–94; Il

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Wilson, J. F. and V. Tzaferis, Banias dig reveals king’s palace, in: Biblical Archaeology Review 24/1 (1998), 56–61, 85. van Winter, Johanna Maria, Otto de Rijke van Zutphen (ca. 1050 – 1113), een legpuzzle, in: Bijdragen en Mededelingen van Gelre 93 (2002), 18–38. Zeid, Ossama Zaki, Continuation de Guillaume de Tyr dit manuscrit de Rothelin (1229–1251), translated into Arabic with historical notes (Alexandria: Dar Elthakafa alilmeia, 2001), 271pp. 2. Recently completed theses Alvira Cabrer, Martin, Las batallas de Las Navas de Tolosa (1212) y Muret (1213), second part published El Jueves de Muret (1213) (Univ. of Barcelona, 2002). Ehlers, Axel, Die Ablaßpraxis des Deutschen Ordens im Mittelalter, PhD, supervised by Wolfgang Petke, Univ. Göttingen. Jensen, Janus Møller, For Hengivenhed Alene: Bod, Fred og Korstog i det 10.–12. Århundrede, MA-thesis. Meserve, Margaret H., The Origins of the Turks: A Problem in Renaissance Historiography, PhD Warburg Institute, Univ. of London 2001, supervised by Charles Burnett. Nicolaou-Konnari, Angel, The Encounter of Greeks and Franks in Cyprus in the Late Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries: Phenomena of Acculturation and Ethnic Awareness, November 1999, Univ. of Wales College of Cardiff, supervised by Peter Edbury. Peled, Anat, Sugar Production in the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem, Bar-Ilan Univ. 2002, supervised by Yvonne Friedman. Petro, Theodore D., Returning Home from the First Crusade: An Examination of Homecoming Experiences of Three Crusaders, Stephen of Blois, Robert Curthose, Robert II of Flanders, MA-thesis, Ball State Univ., Muncie/IN 1998. Quelch, Ian, Latin Rule in Patras, c.1270–1429. Tessera, Miriam Rita, Cum cruce e gladio: Papato, Chiesa e regno latino die Gerusalemme nel XII secolo, 1099–1187, PhD Univ. Cattolica del Sacro Cuore, Milano, December 2002, supervised by Annamaria Ambrosioni. Torre, Ignacio de la, El entramado económico de la Orden templaria [The Economic Net of the Templar Order], supervised by Jose Luis Martin Rodríguez, UNED. 3. Papers read by members of the Society and others Amitai, Reuven, The royal household in the early Mamluk sultanate, at: Royal Households, Sahanc Univ., Istanbul, 6 November 2001; The decline of the Middle Eastern economy at the end of the Middle Ages: the case of the Mamluk sultanate, at: La transicion de la Edad Media al periodo moderno en el mundo mediterraneo, Univ. de Buenos Aires, 26 April 2002. Asbridge, Thomas S., The Holy Lance of Antioch Revisited, at: Paris-I-Sorbonne, 23 November 2002 and CLE-Seminar, London, December 2002. Attiya, Hussein M., Contemporary sources of the Assises of Jerusalem, at: Islamic and Medieval History Symposium, Ain Shams Univ., December 2001. el-Azhari, Taef K., The role of Saljuqid women in medieval Syria, at: 10th HES, Leuven, May 2001. Balard, Michel, La route de la foi: Les croisades, at: Histoire maritime de Bonifacio, July 2002; Sources latines et prosopographie byzantine (1081–1204), at: Byzantium and the

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Crusades: An International Colloquium on the non-Greek Sources, British Academy, London, 13–14 December 2002. Balletto, Laura, Il mondo del commercio nel “Codex Cumanicum”: alcune reflessioni, at: Il codice Cumanico e il suo mondo, Venezia, 6–7 December 2002. Barker, John W., Medieval themes in opera: the crusaders, at: Sewanee Medieval Colloquium, April 2003. Bellomo, Elena, Mobility of Templar brothers and high dignitaries: the case of NorthWestern Italy, at: The International Mobility in the Military Orders, IMC Leeds, 8–9 July 2002; Reliquie di Terrasanta tra XII e XIII secolo: devozione, politica e ‘pie rapine’ nell’età delle crociata, at: Jerusalem translata: dalle reliquie alla sindone tra storia, fede e scienza, Savona, 13 October 2002. Bird, Jessalynn, The Historia Orientalis of Jacques de Vitry: visual and written commentaries as evidence of a text’s audience, reception, and utilization, at: Illinois Medieval Association, February 2003; Infidels, heretics or allies? Oliver of Paderborn and James of Vitry on Islam and eastern Christians, at: IMC Kalamazoo, May 2003. Bisaha, Nancy, Worldly goods or written texts: reconstructing Western perceptions of the Turks, at: Renaissance Society of America Annual Conference, Scottsdale, Arizona, March 2002. Borchardt, Karl, Die Johanniter in der alten Diözese Würzburg, at: Mainfränkische Freunde Würzburg, October 2002; The crusades, the early European expansion, and the Hospitallers on Rhodes, at: Paris-I-Sorbonne, 23 November 2002. Bowlus, Charles R., The tears of St. Lawrence: the role of weather in the defeat of the Hungarians in 955, at: IMC Kalamazoo, May 2002; Die Bedeutung Pannoniens und des Ostalpenraumes für die Kaiserpolitik der Karolinger, at: Univ. of Zürich, June 2002. Burgtorf, Jochen, The Templars’ and Hospitallers’ high dignitaries: aspects of their horizontal mobility, at: IMC Leeds, July 2002; Templars and Hospitallers: religious military orders as peace-keeping forces in the medieval Middle East?, at: CSUF 2002; ‘Historian I may be, but I am also a woman’: reflections on the writing of history in Anna Komnene’s Alexiad, at: CSUF Research Conference 2002. Catlos, Brian A., Infidels, mercenaries and allies: appraising the ethno-religious element in Western Mediterranean politics in the era of the crusades, at: Centre for Cultural Studies, UC Santa Cruz, 30 October 2002; Complicated subjects: Muslims and the law in the medieval Crown of Aragon, at: American Society for Legal History Annual Meeting, San Diego CA, 9 November 2002. Christie, Niall G. F., A funduq rental from 8th/14th century Egypt, at: 212th Annual Meeting of the American Oriental Society, Houston, U.S.A., March 2002; Just a bunch of dirty stories? Women in the ‘Memoirs’ of Usama ibn Munqidh, at: Cornell Univ., Ithaca, U.S.A., April 2002; with Deborah Gerish, God’s master plan: a cross-cultural idea in the early crusading period, at: IMC Kalamazoo, May 2002; with Deborah Gerish, The books of war: Christian and Islamic calls to arms in the early twelfth century, at: Promised Lands: The Bible Christian Missions, and Colonial Histories in Latin Christendom, 400–1700 AD, Univ. of British Columbia, Vancouver, Canada, October 2002; Cosmopolitan trade centre or bone of contention? Alexandria and the crusades, 1070–1365, at: Cosmopolitan Alexandria, Cornell Univ., Ithaca, U.S.A., October 2002. Chrysostomides, Juliana, Symbiosis in the Peloponnese in the aftermath of the fourth crusade, at: King’s College, London.

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Cipollone, Giulio, El model d’una convergència: l’alliberament dels captius entre Cristiandat i Islam, at: Consell Superior d’Investigacions Cientifiques, Barcelona; La experiencia trinitaria, un modelo de tolerancia y dialogo entre Cristiandad e Islam, at: ibid.; Schiavi e schiavitù fra storia e attualità: Il tempo delle crociate, oggi, at: Sala Consiliare della Provincia di Livorno, Livorno; Foi et religions proximité et distance: Les possibles chemins pour la paix, depuis le temps des croisades, at: Univ. Ezzitouna, Tunis; Los Trinitarios: la via humanitaria entre la Cristiandad y e Islamismo: Avinganya, fundación trinitaria, at: Institut d’Estudis Ilerdencs, Lleida. Claverie, Pierre-Vincent, L’ambassade au Caire de Philippe Mainebeuf (1291), at: 9th HES, Leuven, May 2000; Les mauvais chrétiens dans l’Orient des croisades, at: 10th HES, ibid., May 2001; La perception des musulmanes dans l’œuvre d’Héthoum de Korykos, at: 11th HES, ibid., 11–13 May 2002. Corrie, Rebecca W., Ten Arezzo folios and the politics of medieval Italy, at: IMC Leeds, 10–13 July 2000; The Pushkin Madonna: insights into the problem of replication in images of the Virgin, at: 20BS; Constantinople, Siena, and the Polesden Lacey triptych: an Angevin commission for a crusader empress, at: 28th Annual Byzantine Studies Conference, Ohio State Univ., Columbus, 4–6 October 2002. Coureas, Nicholas S., The role of Cyprus in provisioning the Latin churches of the Holy Land in the 13th and early 14th centuries, at: 11th HES, Leuven, 11–13 May 2002. Crawford, Paul, Were the Templars unimaginative? Attempts to recover the Holy Land, 1300–1302, at: IMC Kalamazoo, 2 May 2002. Demirkent, Iþin, The crusades of 1101 on the 900th anniversary, at: Türk Tarih Kumuru, Ankara; Roads from Istanbul to Antalya in the 12th century, at: Istanbul Univ.; The guild in Byzantium, at: Ýstanbul Üniversitesi Tarih Semineri, 8 May 2002; A Byzantine commander of Turkish origin in the 11th century, at: XIV. Uluslurararsý Türk Tarih Kongresi, Ankara, 9–13 September 2002. Der Manuelian, Lucy, Castles, crusades and manuscripts: the Armenian kingdom of Cilicia, at: The American Univ. of Armenia, June 2002. Dickson, Gary, Dante, Boniface VIII and the jubilee, at: Dante lecture series: Dante and the Church, Univ. College Dublin, 11 February 2002 [anti-Colonna crusade 1297/98]. Dodd, Erica Cruikshank, Christian Arab sources for the Madonna dell latte in Italy, at: Department of Near Eastern Studies, Univ. of Leiden, 24 October 2002. Edbury, Peter, Crusader sources from the Near East, at: Prosopography of the Byzantine World, 1025–1204, British Academy, London, December 2002. Edgington, Susan B., Medicine and surgery in the Assises of Jerusalem, at: IMC Leeds, July 2002; Medieval Antioch as an intellectual centre and its influence on western European medicine, at: International Congress for the History of Medicine, Istanbul, December 2002. Favreau-Lilie , Marie-Luise, Palästinareisen im Späten Mittelalter: Die Bedeutung Venedigs für den Pilgertransport, at: Berliner Wissenschaftliche Gesellschaft, HarnackKreis, Berlin, 27 October 2002; Federico II e l’Ordine Teutonico nel Mediterraneo, at: L’Ordine Teutonico in Terra Santa, Convegno, Torre Alemanna (Cerignola) – Mesagne – Lecce, 16–18 October 2003. Flori, Jean, La première croisade, at: Univ. inter-ages de Provins, 19 October 1999; Naissance de la chevalerie, at: Les Amis de Notre Histoire, Paris, 11 December 1999; Croisade et chevalerie, at: Univ. inter-ages de Niort, 10 February 2000; Croisade et guerre

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sainte: origine et charactères de la première croisade (1095–1099), at: GREH de Cognac, 11 March 2000. Folda, Jaroslav, The figural arts in crusader Syria and Palestine, 1187–1291: some new realities, at: Dumbarton Oaks Symposium, 27 April 2002; Icons of the crusaders in the Holy Land, 1099–1291, at: Musée du Louvre, Paris, 21 November 2002. Forey, Alan, The knightly element among the Aragonese Templars at the beginning of the 14th century, at: IV Encontro sobre Ordenes Militares, Palmela, January/February 2002. Gardner, Christopher K., Imagining borders between France and Toulouse in the 13th century, at: III European Congress of Medieval Studies / FIDEM, 10–14 June 2003. Georgopoulou, Maria, Orientalizing Byzantium: Ruskin and St. Mark’s, at: American Comparative Literature Association Conference 2000; Art and material culture in the context of local and international trade, at: Oslo Congress of Historical Sciences 2000; Imagining the colonial space: the Piazza San Marco and the Levant, at: College Art Association 2001; The arts industry and trade in the thirteenth century, at: Dumbarton Oaks Byzantine Symposium 2002. Gertwagen, Ruthi, Harbours, ports and facilities along the sea lane to the Holy Land, at: How they Made War in the Age of the Crusades, Workshop organized by John H. Pryor, Sydney, Australia, 30 September – 4 October 2002; Pirates, travellers, journeys and pilgrims in the medieval Mediterranean, at: Tel-Hai Academic College. Gilmore-Bryson, Anne, The Order of St. John of Jerusalem and the Order of the Knighthood of the Temple: ‘boundaries’ implicit in a reading of their rules, at: Canadian Society of Medievalists, Toronto, May 2002. Harris, Jonathan, Laonikos Chalkokondyles and the rise of the Ottoman Turks, at: Byzantine, Ottoman and Modern Greek seminar, Univ. of Birmingham, January 2002; Unorthodox explanations: Laonikos Chalkokondyles on the rise of the Ottoman Turks, at: Spring Symposium of Bzantine Studies, Durham, March 2002; Byzantium’s alliance with Saladin, 1184–1192, at: CLE-Seminar, London, March 2002. Hunyadi, Zsolt, The Military Orders in the Medieval Kingdom of Hungary: a historiographical approach, 1951–2001, at: Medio siglo de estudios sobre las Cruzadas y las Órdenes militares, 1951–2001, Teruel, 19–25 July 2001; Hospitaller officials of foreign origin in the Hungarian-Slavonian Priory, 13th–14th centuries, at: IMC Leeds, 8–11 July 2002. Jensen, Janus Møller, Denmark and the crusade in the 12th century: trying to cope with a ‘tyrannical construct’, at: The Making of Europe, Univ. of Århus, 12 February 2001; War, penance, and the first crusade: dealing with a ‘tyrannical construct’, at: IMC Kalamazoo, May 2002. Jotischky, Andrew, Penance and reconciliation in the crusader states: Matthew Paris, Jacques de Vitry and the Eastern Christians, at: Ecclesiastical History Society, Leeds, July 2002; The Friars, the Holy Land and the Eastern Christians, at: CLE-Seminar, Cambridge, November 2002. Karassava-Tsilingiri, Fotini, The 15th century hospital of Rhodes: chronological observations, at: Conference for the 15 years of construction of the medieval town of Rhodes, Rhodes, 16–20 November 2001. Kedar, Benjamin Z., Some reflections on maps, crusading and logistics, at: Workshop on logistics of Crusading, Sydney, Australia, 30 September – 4 October 2002; Due Montes

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Gaudii a Gerusalemme?, at: La Puglia tra Gerusalemme e Santiago di Compostella, Bari – Brindisi, 4–7 December 2002. Kiesewetter, Andreas, L’articolazione territoriale del principato di Taranto in età sveva e angioina (1250–1258; 1294–1373), at: Il principato di Taranto tra XIII e XV secolo, Convegno di Studi, Taranto, 9 March 2001. Kolia-Dermitzaki, Athina, The Byzantines in Byzantine eyes: their self-image in the literary sources (10th–12th centuries), at: 20BS. Krüger, Jürgen, The Muristan in Jerusalem: the first hospital of the Order of St. John, at: Rhodos, International Conference 15 Years of Restoration, 14–17 November 2001; Simeone da Treviri e il culto di S. Caterina d’Alessandria, at: Univ. degli Studi di Bari, l’École Française de Rome, Univ. degli Studi di Lecce, Convegno, Santa Caterina d’Alessandria dal Sinai alla Puglia, 26–30 June 2002; Il regno di Gerusalemme a Napoli – il re di Napoli e Gerusalemme, at: Univ. de Lausanne, 3eme Journée d’études sur Naples et le sud de l’Italie: Entre Anjou et Aragon, 2 December 2002; Lo stato delle ricerche sull’arte crociata, at: III Convegno, La Puglia tra Gerusalemme e Santiago di Compostella, Bari – Brindisi, 4–7 December 2002. Leonard, Robert D. Jr., Dating the Edessa coinage of Richard of Salerno, IMC Kalamazoo, 8–11 May 2003. Madden, Thomas F., The crusades and us, at: Berry College, 26 March 2002; Food and the fourth crusade, at: 37th Annual International Congress on Medieval Studies, 2–5 May 2002; The Venetian provisioning of the fourth crusade, at: Centre for Medieval Studies, Univ. of Sydney, Australia, 4 October 2002. Menache, Sophia, Clement V and the Crusades, at: Paris-I-Sorbonne, 23 November 2002. Mitchell, Piers D. Pathology in the skulls from a medieval cave cemetery near Safed, Israel, at: Conference of the Paleopathology Association, Univ. of Coimbra, August 2002; Dietary modification as a medical treatment in the medieval hospital: evidence from the 13th century latrines of the crusader hospital of St. John at Acre, Israel, at: Conference of the British Association of Biological Anthropology and Osteoarchaeology, Univ. of Sheffield, September 2002; Evidence for elective surgery in the Frankish states of the Near East in the crusader period, at: Conference on Medical History, Univ. of Erlangen, December 2002. Morgan, Jonathan C., ‘An ... offspring’: the Order of St. John in England, 1858–1888, at: St. John Historical Society, September 2002. de Nève, Michael, A quarry for mendicants? James of Vitry’s sermon collections, at: IMC Leeds, 10 July 2002. Nicholson, Helen, International mobility v. national need: the British Hospitallers in the 13th and 14th centuries, at: IMC Leeds, July 2002; The trial of the Templars in the British Isles: a reassessment, at: Cardiff Centre for the Study of the Crusades/History & Welsh History, 5 December 2002; The motivations of the Hospitallers and Templars in their involvement in the fourth crusade and its aftermath, at: Malta Study Centre, St. Johns Univ., Collegeville/MN, and at: IMC Kalamazoo, May 2003. Nicolle, David, Saladin and the art of war in the late 12th-century Islamic Middle East, at: Manorial Society Conference, Pembroke College, Oxford, September 2002; The early trebuchet, documentary and archaeological evidence, at: Colloque international de Castellologie ‘La Fortification au temps des croisades’, Parthenay, September 2002; From ‘Beyond the River’ to ‘Between the Rivers’: the westward spread of Central Asian arms and

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armour technology in the late Sassanian and Early Islamic periods, at: Arms and Armour as Indicators of Cultural Transfer, Halle/Saale, 2003. Nielen, Marie-Adélaïde, Les sceaux de l’Orient latin aux Archives nationales, at: État et colonisation au Moyen-Âge, séminaire dirigé par Michel Balard; Nouvelles preuves de l’histoire des vicomtes de Tripoli: tentative de reconstitution de la généalogie de la famille Visconte, at: Le comté de Tripoli: état multi-culturel et multi-confessionnel, Univ. du SaintEsprit de Kaslik, 2–3 December 2002. Noble, Peter, The influence of heroes in 13th-century French crusading chronicles, at: 3rd Medieval Chronicles Conference, Univ. of Utrecht, July 2002. Omran, Mahmoud Said, Grigor of Akans as a historian for the Muslem Nations, at: IMC Leeds, July 2001; The Hohenstaufen and their Arabic subjects against excommunication, at: IMC Leeds, July 2002. Papayianni, Aphrodite, Byzantine Constantinople in the 13th century through the eyes of Byzantines and foreigners, at: Reconstructing Constantinople: New Perspectives from Archaeology and History, Univ. of Reading, 26 October 2002. Petro, Theodore D., Unchivalrous crusaders: returning from the Holy Land with unfulfilled vows and failed objectives, 1096–1200, at: Midwest Medieval History Conference, Indiana Univ., Bloomington, 25 October 2002. Phillips, Simon, The prior of St. John in late medieval England, at: King Alfred’s College, Winchester, 5 February 2003. Powell, James M., The Misericordia of Bergamo and the frescoes of the Aula Diocesana: a chapter of communal history, at: Midwest Medieval History Conference, Indiana Univ., Bloomington, October 2002. Richard, Jean, Les familles féodales dans le comté de Tripoli, at: Colloque 9e centenaire de la fondation du comté de Tripoli, Univ. de Kaslik, 2 December 2002. Rist, Rebecca, Honorius III and the Albigensian crusade, at: CLE-Seminar, Cambridge, February 2002; Papal policy and the Albigensian crusades: continuity or change?, at: IMC Leeds, July 2002. Ruel, James, Hero and villain: James of Avesnes – a reputation in flux, at: IMC Leeds, July 2001. Ryan, James D., The choir stalls of Toledo and the crusade to capture Grenada, at: Bible de bois au moyen âge, Angers, 7 March 2002. Sarnowsky, Jürgen, Hospitaller brethren on Rhodes, at: IMC Leeds, 8 July 2002; Preußen und Rhodos als multiethnische Gesellschaften des 15. Jahrhunderts, at: Univ. Hamburg, Ringvorlesung, 6 November 2002; Die Edition der Schuldbücher und Rechnungen der Großschäffer des Deutschen Ordens in Preußen, at: UMK Toruñ, 21 November 2002. Savvides, Alexios G. C., The area of Pontic Djanik/Djanit in medieval Muslim sources, at: 7th Panhellenic Congress of Anatolian Hellenism, Thessalonica, December 2002. Schabel, Christopher, Epoiken hemeres 3: Good King Hugh IV Lusignan of Cyprus (1324–1359)?, at: Archaeological Research Unit, Univ. of Cyprus; The murder of King Peter I of Cyprus in 1369, at: Historisches Seminar, Univ. Heidelberg. Stahl, Harvey, Programmatic aspects of royal French psalters, at: Der illuminierte Psalter: Internationales Kolloquium zur Buchmalerei, Bamberg, 4–6 October 1999; Louis IX and Saul, at: Frankish Culture at the End of the Crusades: Art and Historiography in France and the Holy Land, March 2000; European wall painting techniques at the Sainte-Chapelle in

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Paris and elsewhere in mid-thirteenth century Europe: the implications of some recent analyses, at: ICCROM Conference, Paris, June 2001. Stiles, Paula, Confratres and corrodians: associates and dependants of the Knights Templar in medieval Catalonia, at: IMC Kalamazoo, 4 May 2001. Struckmeyer, Myra, The sisters of the Order of St. John of Jerusalem, at: CLE-Seminar, Cambridge, November 2001; Women’s experiences in the crusades: female religious facing death 1187–1291, at: IMC Leeds, July 2002. 4. Forthcoming publications Airaldi, Gabriella, Memoria e memorie di un cavaliere: Caffaro di Genova, in: Crusades 2 (2003). Amitai, Reuven, Foot soldiers, militiamen and volunteers in the early Mamluk army, in: Texts, Documents and Artefacts, ed. Chase F. Robinson; Magrizi as a historian of the early Mamluk sultanate, in: Mamluk Studies Review. Arbel, Benjamin, Fifteenth Century Commercial Letters from Cypriot Collections, Cyprus Cultural Foundation (2003). Asbridge, Thomas S., Alice of Jerusalem and Antioch: a case of female power in the Latin East, in: The Experience of Crusading, ed. Norman Housley (Cambridge UP, June 2003); The First Crusade (Simon & Schuster, February 2004). Aslanov, Cyril, Languages in contact in the Frankish Levant, in: Crusades 1 (2003). el-Azhari, Taef K., 13 articles for EncycCru; The influence of eunuchs in the Ayyubid kingdom; The role of Saljuqid women in medieval Syria, in: Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta 4 (2002). Bahat, Dan, Muqaddasi’s gates in Jerusalem, in: Cathedra [in Hebrew]; The prayer of the gates of the Temple Mount, in: Cathedra 106 (2002); with A. Maier, Excavations on the town square, in: ÿAtiqot; The physical infrastructure of Mamluk Jerusalem, in: The History of Jerusalem, The Mamluk Period, ed. Reuven Amitai and Yvonne Friedman (Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi). Balard, Michel, Problèmes de succession à Andros au XVe siècle, in: Venise et la mer Egée, le cas de l’île d’Andros, Andros, 8–9 septembre 2001, Thesaurismata (Venezia, 2003); Genova e il Levante (secc. XI–XII), in: Comuni e memoria storica, Gênes 24–26 septembre 2001 (Gênes: Società ligure di storia patria, 2003); L’expansion occidentale (XIe–XVe s.): Formes et conséquences, in: Congrès de la Société des Historiens médiévistes, Madrid mai 2002 (Publications de la Sorbonne, 2003); Gli aspetti tecnici del commercio italiano e di quello dell’Europa occidentale, in: IXo Convegno, L’Italia alla fine del Medioevo i caratteri originali nel quadro europeo, San Miniato 10–12 ottobre 2002 (Centro di studi di San Miniato, 2003); La puissance maritime en Méditeranée au Moyen Âge, in: La puissance maritime, Paris décembre 2001 (Paris: Institut catholique, 2004); Carlo Io d’Angiò e lo spazio mediterraneo, in: XV Giornate normanno-sveve, Bari ottobre 2002 (Univ. de Bari, 2004). Balletto, Laura, Fonti notarili inedite su Caffa ed il Mar Nero, in: Il Mar Nero; Nuclei familiari da Genova a Chio nel Quattrocento, in: Due popoli – una storia, studi di storia ellenica (Atene); Commerci e rotte commerciali nel Mediterraneo orientale alla metà del Quattrocento: l’importanza dell’isola di Chio, in: Money and Markets in the Palaeologian Era, Chalkis, June 1998 (Atene); Tra Cipro, Genova e Venezia nel secolo XV, in: CiproVenezia, Atene, marzo 2001 (Atene); Il Mar Nero nei notai genovesi: panoramica generale, stato degli studi, progetti di pubblicazione, in: Progetto Internazionale Byzantine

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Multimedia, Mosca, 16–17 maggio 2001; I Genovesi a Focea ed a Chio fra XIII e XIV secolo, in: 20BS; Tra Andros veneziana e Chio dei Genovesi nel Quattrocento, in: Venezia ed il Mar Egeo, il caso di Andros, Andros, 8–9 settembre 2001; Chios e Genova nell’epoca di Cristoforo Colombo, in: Chios-Genova, città portuali, Genova, Porto Antico, 15–21 ottobre 2001. Bellomo, Elena, ed., Cronache genovesi di crociata (secoli XII–XIII): Caffaro, Ystoria captionis Almarie et Tortuose and De liberatione civitatum Orientis liber; Regni Ierosolymitani brevis hystoria, Medioevo Europeo 4 (Padova: CLEUP, 2002); Tra Bizantini e Normanni: i Genovesi in Oltremare agli esordi del XII secolo, in: Miscellanea in memoria di P. Costamagna, ed. Dino Puncuh; Italian translation of the Translatio sancti Marci, Corpus scriptorum ecclesiae Aquileiensis, ed. Giorgio Fedalto. Bird, Jessalynn, Innocent III, Peter the Chanter’s circle, and the crusade indulgence: theory, implementation, and aftermath, in: Pope Innocent III: Orbis and Urbs, ed. H. Weigl and A. Sommerlechner (2002). Bisaha, Nancy, Pius II’s letter to Sultan Mehmed II: a re-examination, in: Crusades 1 (2003). Bonneaud, Pierre, Catalan Hospitallers in Rhodes in the first half of the 15th century, in: International Mobility in the Military Orders, ed. Helen Nicholson and Jochen Burgtorf (Univ. of Wales Press). Borchardt, Karl, Soll-Zahlen zum Personalstand der deutschen Johanniter vom Jahre 1367, in: Revue Mabillon [in press]; Wirtschaft und Ordensreformen im späten Mittelalter: Das Beispiel der Johanniter in Straßburg (mit Ausblick auf Breslau), in: Ordines Militares 12 (2003). Burgtorf, Jochen, ed. with Helen Nicholson, International Mobility in the Military Orders, Proceedings of the 2002 IMC Leeds sections (Univ. of Wales Press). Burnett, Charles, The transmission of Arabic astronomy via Antioch and Pisa in the second quarter of the 12th century, in: Perspectives on Science in Medieval Islam, ed. A. I. Sabra and J. P. Hogendijk (Boston, 2002). Carlsson, Christer, A medieval tarn in Markaryd, Småland, Sweden, in: Småland Museum (2003); Preinvestigations along road 122, Småland, Sweden, in: ibid.; Årsta old farm: a Teutonic comturie in Södermanland, Sweden, in: Turna Univ., Finland (2003). Catlos, Brian A., The Victors and the Vanqished: Christians and Muslims in Catalonia and Aragon, 1050–1300, Cambridge Studies in Medieval Life and Thought (Cambridge UP); Ambigüitat jurisdiccional: Els mudèjars i la justícia de la Corona d’Aragó al seglo XIII, in: Minories musulmanes i la justícia reial en la ‘Corona d’Aragó’, ed. Thomas F. Glick (Valencia: Univ. de València); The Ebro Valley and Valencia: Mudéjar experiences related, distinct, in: Revista d’Història Medieval, Dossier 12 (Valencia); Context and ‘conveniencia’ in the Crown of Aragon: proposal for a model of interaction of minority and majority ethno-religious groups, in: Revista d’Història Medieval (Valencia); Intereses comunes: la çaualquenia musulmana de Huesca y el poder real a finales del siglo XIII, in: XVIII Congreso de la Historia de la Corona de Aragón, Actas (Univ. de Barcelona); Muhammad Abenadalill: a Muslim knight in the service of the kings of Aragon (1290–1291), in: In and Around the Medieval Crown of Aragon: Studies in Honour of Prof. Elena Lourie, ed. Harvey Hames (Leiden: Brill); Barbastro, Ceuta, Conversion in Iberia, Hafsids, Moriscos, Mozarabs, entries for EncycCru. Christie, Niall G. F., with Deborah Gerish, Parallel preachings: Urban II and al-Sulami, in: Al-Masaq; Crusade literature, in: The Encyclopedia of Women and Islamic Cultures (Brill).

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Molin, Kristian, various crusader castles in Greece and Cyprus and Cypriot kings, in: EncycCru. Nicholson, Helen, Serving king and crusade: the military orders in royal service in Ireland, 1220–1400, in: The Experience of Crusading, ed. Norman Housley, Marcus Bull, Peter Edbury and Jonathan Phillips (Cambridge UP, June 2003). Nicolaou-Konnari, Angel, Onomatology in the manuscripts of the Chronicle of Leontios Makhairas, in: Neograeca Medii Aevi 5, Oxford 15–18 September 2000 (2003) [in Greek]; Strategies of distinction: the construction of the ethnic name Griffon in the western perception of the Greeks (12th–14th centuries), in: Byzantinistica (2003); Ethnic names and the construction of group identity in medieval and early modern Cyprus: the case of Kypriotis, in: Studies in Honour of Theodors Papadopoullos (Nicosia, 2003); The Encounter of Greeks and Franks in Cyprus in the Late 12th and 13th Centuries: Phenomena of Acculturation and Ethnic Awareness, Birmingham Byzantine and Ottoman Monographs (Ashgate, end of 2003). Nicolle, David, Islamic arms and armour, in: Chevaux et cavaliers arabes, dans les arts d’Orient et d’Occident [exhibition catalogue] (Paris, 2002); Historical Atlas of the Birth of Islam (Ludlow: Thalamus, September 2003); Medieval Siege Weapons (2): Byzantium, the Islamic World and India, New Vanguard series (Oxford, 2003); articles for EncycCru and EI; two volumes of collected studies, Ashgate-Variorum series (2003/04); A medieval Islamic arms cache, in: Graeco-Arabica; Two swords from the foundation of Gibraltar, in: Gladius. Nielen, Marie-Adélaïde, Les Lignages d’Outremer: Edition du texte, Collection des documents relatifs à l’Histoire des Croisades, Académie des Inscriptions et des Belles-Lettres (2003); Richard Cœur de Lion à la Croisade, in: Actes du colloque “Richard Cœur de Lion, roi d’Angleterre, duc de Normandie”, Caen, Archives départementales du Calvados, 6–8 avril 1999 (2003); entries for EncycCru. Palágyi, Tivadar, Regards croisés sur l’épopée française de le destan turc, in: Crusades 2 (2003). Papayianni, Aphrodite, John III Vatatzes: an Orthodox saint, in: Byzantinos Domos 14 (2003); entries for EncycCru. Partner, Peter, Corsairs and Crusaders. Paviot, Jacques, Les ducs de Bourgogne, la croisade et l’Orient (fin XIVe – XVe s.) (Paris: Presses de l’Univ. de Paris-Sorbonne, 2003). Powell, James M., The Deeds of Pope Innocent III (Catholic Univ. of America Press); Innocent III: making of an image, in: Innocent III: Urbs et Orbis, ed. H. Weigl and A. Sommerlechner (2002). Pringle, Denys R., Il castello di Belmonte e la proprietà della Terra di Emmaus nel regno crociato di Gerusalemme, in: Apollo: Bollettino dei Musei provinciali del Salernitano 17 (2001); A lesser known Byzantine and medieval church on the Mount of Olives, in: Two Millennia of Christianity in Jerusalem: The Third International Conference on Christian Heritage, June 28, 29, 30, Year 2000, ed. K. Hintlian (Swedish Christian Study Centre, Jerusalem); The castles of Ayla (al-ÿAqaba) in the crusader, Ayyubid and Mamluk periods, in: 10th HES, ed. U. Vermeulen, Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta (Leuven: Peters, 2002); Arqueología, cruzadas y órdenes militares en Outremer, 1951–2001, in: RuncimanConference. Reynolds, Susan, Fiefs and vassals in 12th-century Jerusalem: a view from the West, in: Crusades 1 (2003).

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Richard, Jean, De Jean-Baptiste Mailly à Joseph-François Michaud: Un moment de l’historiographie des croisades, in: Crusades 1 (2003); Pouvoir royal et patriarcat au temps de la cinquième croisade, à propos du rapport du patriarche Raoul, in: Crusades 2 (2003). Riley-Smith, Jonathan, Casualties and the number of knights on the First Crusade, in: Crusades 1 (2003); Islam and the crusades in history and imagination, 8 november 1898–11 September 2001, in: Crusades 2 (2003). Rist, Rebecca, Papal policy and the Albigensian crusades: continuity or change?, in: Crusades 2 (2003) Rodríguez García, José Manuel, Image and representation of the military orders, Castile and Leon 1212–1313, in: MO3; El internacionalismo de las órdenes militares ‘hispanas’ en el siglo XIII: la trama alemana, y báltica, entre otas, in: Hispania Medieval 1 (2001/02). Ross, Linda, Frederick II: tyrant or benefector of the Latin East?, in: Al-Masaq 16 (2004). Savvides, Alexios G. C., The Alans of Caucasus and their migrations in Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages (Athens: Goulandre-Horn Foundation Publ.) [in Greek]; The later Byzantine Empire and medieval Hellenism AD 1025–1461: Historical survey (Athens: Patakes Publ.) [in Greek]; Byzantium – medieval world – Islam, 3rd ed. with additions (Athens: Papazeses Publ.) [in Greek]; Tzannoi-Djanik-Djanit-Tzanichitai: the problem of the survival of a Caucasian people in the Byzantine Pontos of the Grand Komnenoi, in: Archeion Pontou (Athens) [in Greek]; entries in Lexikon der Byzantistik (Amsterdam), Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed. (Leiden), EncycCru; Suleyman Shah of Rum, Byzantium, Cilician Armenia and Georgia AD 1197–1204, in: Byzantion (Brussels); Notes on the ghazi warriors of the Muslim faith in the Middle Ages, in: Journal of Oriental and African Studies 11 (Athens, 2001/02); Notes on the Ionian islands and Islam: the Byzantine and post-Byzantine periods (Arab and Ottoman raids), in: ibid. 12 (Athens, 2003); Kos island as a base and starting point of Nikephoros Melissenos’ seditipon in AD 1080/81, in: Memorial volume for Charis Kantza (Rhodes); Some major Seljuk, Persian and Ottoman sources regarding Byzantine-Seljuk relations: A bibliographical survey, in: Mésogeios (Paris); Naxos island in the Byzantine period, 4th c. – 1207 AD, in: Naxos through the Ages [in Greek]; The empire of Nicaea in a diplomatic tangle AD 1213/14–1234, in: Historika / Eleutherotypia (Athens) [in Greek]; The Mediterranean state of Cilician or Lesser Armenia (Armenian Cilicia) in the later Middle Ages among Byzantines, Crusaders and Islam, in: Corpus (Athens) [in Greek]; The Byzantines vis-à-vis the peoples of the Eastern and Balkan worlds: new trends of research (Herodotos Publ. – Hellenic National Research Foundation [in Greek]. Schabel, Christopher, Camille Enlart and the Cistercians in Pyrgos, in: Report of the Department of Antiquities, Cyprus (2002) [in Greek]; The Greek bishops of Cyprus, 1260–1340, and the Synodikon Kyprion, in: Kypriakai Spoudai 66 (2002); Etienne de Lusignan’s Chorograffia and the Ecclesiastical History of Frankish Cyprus, in: Epetirida tou Kentrou Epistimonikon Erevnon 29 (2003); with Nicholas Coureas and Gilles Grivaud, The capital of the sweet land of Cyprus: Frankish and Venetian Nicosia, in: Nicosia: the First 2000 Years, ed. Demetrios Michaelides (Nicosia, 2003). Schein, Sylvia, The Gateway to the Heavenly City: Jerusalem and the West, 1099–1187 (Ashgate, 2002). Schuster, Beate, Raimond d’Aguilers – un chantre de l’hérésie générale avant l’heure?, in: Heresis 36 (2001), 1–21 [spring 2003]; Die Stimme des falschen Paupers: Der Kreuzzugsbericht des Raimund von Aguilers und die Armenfrage, in: Armut im Mittelalter, ed. Otto Gerhard Oexle (Sigmaringen, 2004). Siberry, Elizabeth, Nineteenth century perspectives of the first crusade, in: The Experience

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Christie, Niall G. F., Women in the ‘Memoirs’ of Usama ibn Munqidh [article]; Alexandria and the Crusades [article]; with Deborah Gerish, Sermons of Urban II and the Kitab al-Jihad of ÿAli ibn Tahir al-Sulami [book, to include full text, translation and study]. Cipollone, Giulio, Retrospettiva culturale di tolleranza nella documentazione tra Papato e Islam nel Medioevo. Cole, Penny J., Humbert of Romans’ De predicacione crucis. Congdon, Eleanor A., Venetian merchants buying cotton in Mamluk Syria c.1480’s; Venetian merchants in the Aegean c.1480’s. Corrie, Rebecca W., 12 entries for: Byzantium: Faith and Power (1261–1557) [exhibition catalogue for the Metropolitan Museum of Art, spring 2004], ed. H. Evans; The Conradin Bible [book]; Arezzo chorale manuscripts: politics of the maniera greca [article]. Coureas, Nicholas S., The Latin Church in Cyprus, 1313–1378 (Ashgate) [book]; The Chronicle of George Boustronios: A New English Translation (Cyprus Research Centre and Greece and Cyprus research Centre, Univ. of Albany) [book]; The Life of Peter Thomas by Philippe de Mézières: A Translation into English (Cyprus Research Centre) [book]; Commercial relations between Cyprus and the Genoese of Pera (Cyprus Research Centre) [article]; The genesis and development of Cyprus’ modern Latin community [article]. Crawford, Paul, sections on the crusades and the military orders for the Online Reference Book for Medieval Studies, orb.rhodes.edu; articles for EncycCru and New Westminster Dictionary of Church History. [Dennis-]Cushing, Dana, How do you get from here to there? Richard Lionheart’s crusade sealift [article]. Dansette, Béatrice, with Christine Deluz, édition critique et traduction française du texte latin de la Peregrinatio in Terram sanctam de Bernhard von Breidenbach, Mayence 1486. Demirkent, Iþin, Antakya Haçlý Devleti Tarihi [The History of the Principality of Antioch]; Son Dönem Bizans Ýmparatorluðu Bibliyografyasý (1261–1453) [The Bibliography of the Last Period of Byzantium]. Dodd, Erica Cruikshank, The Double-Naved Church in the Lebanon; Inscriptions in the Mosque of the Wazir Khan, Lahore. Dourou-Eliopoulou, Maria, see Bulletin 22. Echevarría Arsuaga , Ana, see Bulletin 21; A “Morisca” Guard for the Castilian Christian Kings in the 15th Century [book]. Edbury, Peter, Women in John of Ibelin’s treatise [article]; Political history, in: History of Cyprus [chapter in a collaborative book]; The siege of Acre, 1189–91 [article]. Edgington, Susan B., Albert of Aachen, Historia Iherosolimitana, ed. and tr. (Oxford medieval Texts); Crusader Medicine [book]. Epstein, Steven A., Ethnogenesis in the Eastern Mediterranean. Flori, Jean, Alienor d’Aquitaine (Paris: Payot, 2003); Islam et fin des temps: la place de l’islam dans l’interprétation prophétique de l’Histoire au Moyen Âge; Bohémond de Tarente, le croisé devenu prince. Folda, Jaroslav, The Art of the Crusaders in the Holy Land 1187–1291 (manuscript submitted to prospective publisher, October 2002). Forey, Alan, The Papacy and the Spanish Reconquest; Marriage and sexual relations between Western Christians and outsiders in the crusading period; Images of the Aragonese templars at the turn of the 13th and 14th centuries.

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Friedman, Yvonne, Peace Processes between Christians and Muslims in the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem. Georgopoulou, Maria, Art, Industry, and Trade in the Medieval Mediterranean [book]; The significance and meaning of the Gothic in the Eastern Mediterranean [article]. Gertwagen, Ruthi, Venice and the Defence of its Maritime Empire in the 14th and 15th Centuries [book]; Ports and Harbours in the Medieval Eastern Mediterranean, 6th Century to the End of the 15th Century [book]. Huygens, Robert B. C., A critical edition of the two main latin sources for the fall of Acre (1291), Excidium Aconis and magister Thadeus of Naples. Irwin, Robert, A History of Orientalism; A Short Study of Futuwwa or ‘Oriental Chivalry’. Jackson, Peter, The Mongols and the Latin West, 1221–1405 (Longman, Medieval West series). Jubb, Margaret, The crusaders’ perceptions of their opponents, in: The Palgrave Guide to the Crusades, ed. Helen Nicholson. Krüger, Jürgen, Architectural History of the Hospitals of the Order of St. John and the Teutonic Order; The Setting Out of the Holy Places in the Holy Land; Architectural Copies of the Holy Places in Europe. Luchitskaya, Svetlana, Daily Life in the Crusader States. Marvin, Laurence W., A Military and Political History of the Albigensian Crusade, 1209–1218 [book]. Megaw, Arthur H. S., with John Rosser, Paphos Castle, a Third Crusade Castle Excavated in Cyprus. Mitchell, Piers D., Medicine in the Crusades: Injuries and Surgical Treatment in the Frankish States of the Medieval Eastern Mediterranean [book]; Medieval human skeletal remains from Safed [article]; Pathology in the crusader period human skeletal remains from Caesarea [article]. Möhring, Hannes, Die Kreuzfahrer und ihre muslimischen Gegner: Feindbild und Krieg im Mittelalter [book]. Molin, Kristian, English translation of Old French version of the Chronicle of Morea, Crusade Texts in Translation (Ashgate); The Teutonic Knights. de Nève, Michael, Der ‘Kreuzzug’ Kaiser Friedrichs II. als historiographisches Problem [article]; Franziskaner am Werk? Die Werbungen Kaiser Friedrichs II. um Agnes von Böhmen [article]; Von Templerprozessen zum ‘Templerprozess’: Der Untergang des Templerordens im Lichte der bischöflichen und päpstlichen, der regionalen und der ‘nationalen’ Formen des Inquisitionsverfahrens [article]; Das Anno Santo von 1450: Papst Nikolaus V. und der Kreuzzugsgedanke am Vorabend des Falls von Konstantinopel [article]. Nicholson, Helen, Medieval Warfare, 300–1500 (Palgrave-Macmillan) [book]; ed. with Jochen Burgtorf, International Mobility in the Military Orders (12th to 15th Centuries) (Univ. of Wales Press) [book]; The ‘Sisters’ House’ at Slebech: an analysis of the archaeological and documentary evidence [article]; The Crusades, part of the series ‘The Greenwood Guide to Historic Events of the Middle Ages’ [book]; Warrior: Knight Templar (Osprey Publishing); ed. with Anthony Luttrell, Hospitaller Women in the Middle Ages (Ashgate); Documents relating to the trial of the Templars in the British Isles, with translation; The Hospitallers in the British Isles in the 14th Century. The Palgrave Guide to the Crusades (edited). Nicolaou-Konnari, Angel, Giorgio di Nores, Discorso sopra l’Isola di Cipri con le ragioni della sua successione in quel Regno, edition with introduction and commentary (Cyprus

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Research Centre, 2003); The class of Greek archontes in 13th-century Cyprus: disappearance or adjustment?, in: Aeolika Nea (2003) [in Greek]; Beccaficoes in Cypriot history: from Renaissance gourmet tables to the birdlimes of European bureaucracy, in: Ylandron (Nicosia, 2003); ed. with Christopher Schabel, Managing Multiplicity: Power and Relationships in Lusignan Cyprus, 1192–1369 (Nicosia, 2004); Leontios Makhairas, Chronicle: Diplomatic Edition (Cyprus Research Centre, 2004); Leontios Makhairas, Chronicle, English transl. for ‘Sources for the History of Cyprus’, Cyprus Publications, Univ. of New York, Albany (2006); with M. Pieris, Leontios Makhairas, Chronicle, edition with introduction and notes (Univ. of Cyprus). Nicolle, David, Warfare in the Crusader World (Hambledon); with William Hamblin, The Thousand Year War: A Military History of the Medieval Islamic World, 622–1630; The First Crusade, Osprey Campaign series; The Grand Chevauchée, ibid.; Mansoura, ibid.; Crusader Castles, new Osprey Fortress series; Saracen Citadels, ibid.; Relief carvings of zodiac figures on the 12th–13th century ruined Tigris bridge at Ain Diwar, Syria [article]. Noble, Peter, ed. and transl. La Conquête de Constantinople de Robert de Clari (2003). O’Malley, Gregory, The Knights Hospitallers of the British Isles, c.1460–1560 [book]. Partner, Peter, A Dangerous Sea: Renegades or Supposed Renegades. Paviot, Jacques, edition of projects for a crusade, 13th–14th centuries, including Fidenzio da Padova and Roger of Stanegrave (Documents relatifs à l’histoire des croisades); ed. with Philippe Contamine, Philippe de Mézières, Epistre lamentable et consolatoire. Phillips, Jonathan, The Sack of Constantinople and the Fourth Crusade (Jonathan Cape, April 2004); Expanding the Frontiers of Christendom: The Second Crusade (Yale, 2005). Powell, James M., Formation of Civic Culture in 13th Century Italian Communes [book]; with Jessalyn Bird and Edward Peters, Revision of Christian Society and the Crusades. Pringle, Denys R., The Churches of the Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem: A Corpus, vol. 3: The Cities of Jerusalem, Acre and Tyre; History and Archaeology of the City of Ramla (c.715–1917) [editor of a book]; Castle chapels in the Frankish East, in: La Fortification au Temps des Croisades, ed. J. Mesqui (Paris: CNRS Société Française d’Achéologie). Richard, Jean, Completion of the Bullaire de Chypre. Rodríguez García, José Maria, The Teutonic Order in Spain, 13th–16th Centuries [book]. Ryan, James D., John of Montecorvino (1247–1328): Medieval Missionary and First Archbishop of Beijing [book]. Savvides, Alexios G. C., The Turks and Byzantium, vol. 2 (Athens) [in Greek]; Byzantine history through non-Graecophone Oriental sources (Christian, Muslim, Jewish, African): a lexicographical manual; History and chronology of medieval Kos (detailed annotation of Byzantine, Western and Oriental sources) [in Greek]; Late medieval Karpathos until the Ottoman conquest [in Greek]. Schabel, Christopher, The myth of Queen Alice and uncle Philip d’Ibelin [article]; co-editor with Angel Konnari and contributor, Cyprus 1191–1373: Multiplicity and Unity (Limassol: Medochemie, 2004); Bullarium Cyprium: Papal Letters Involving Cyprus 1196–1316 (Nicosia: Cyprus Research Centre, 2005). Schein, Sylvia, Women Pilgrims in the Holy Land in the Middle Ages. Schuster, Beate, The Crusade Chronicle of Raymond of Aguilers between Testimony and Fiction, Habilitation, Univ. Göttingen. Slack, Corliss K., A Dictionary of the Crusades (Scarecrow Press, 2003) [one vol.].

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Sonnak, Simon, transl. The Cartulary of the Holy Sepulchre as both a Latin project and a source of data for settlement. Tessera, Miriam Rita, ed. with Marco Petoletti, Monachus of Caesarea’s The Expugnata Accone liber tetrastichus, with Italian translation and commentary; Amalric I’s dream and the true cross sent to Clairvaux abbey [article]. 6. Theses in progress Abd El Wahab, Yesser, Relations between the Latin East and the West 1187–1291, PhD Tanta Univ., Egypt, supervised by Hussein M. Attiya. Bocija, Mark S., Monastic Literature on Pilgrimage and Stability 1050–1150, PhD Ohio State Univ. Carrier, Marc, L’image du Grec et les systèmes de représentation dans les sources occidentales relatives aux croisades (XIIe et XIIIe siècles), PhD Univ. de Paris-I-Sorbonne, supervised by Michel Balard. Claverie, Pierre-Vincent, The Order of the Temple in the Holy Land and Cyprus in the 13th Century, PhD, Univ. de Paris-I-Sorbonne, supervised by Michel Balard. Dansette, Béatrice, Les pèlerins occidentaux en Terre sainte XIIIe–XVIe siècle, Thèse d’État, Univ. de Paris-I-Sorbonne, supervised by Michel Balard. Dempsey, John A., Bonizo of Sutri: Portrait in a Landscape, PhD, Boston Univ. De Santis, Americo, The Banking Legacies of the Knights Templar, MA-thesis, Rutgers Univ./NJ. Fergusson, Jack, Comparing the Albigensian and Hussite Crusades, MA-thesis, Univ. of Canterbury, Christ Church, New Zealand. Gat, Simon, Ramle in the Middle Ages, PhD, supervised by Yvonne Friedman and Joseph Drory. Hunyadi, Zsolt, The Hospitallers in Hungary, c.1150–1400, PhD, Central European Univ., Department of Medieval Studies. Jensen, Janus Møller, Crusade during Renaissance, Reformation, and the Early Modern State, 1450–1650, PhD, Univ. of Southern Denmark. Kühn, Hans-Ulrich, Die Söhne von Sultan Baibars, PhD, Univ. Saarbrücken, supervised by Peter Thorau. Mutafian, Claude, Trois siècles de diplomatie arménienne en Cilicie (XIIe–XIVe s.), PhD, Univ. de Paris-I-Sorbonne. de Nève, Michael, Jacobus de Vitriaco (1160/70–1240): Wirken, Werk und Wirkung zwischen cura animarum und curia Romana, PhD, Freie Univ. Berlin, supervised by Kaspar Elm. Peleg, Peter S., Relations between Emperor Frederick II and the Military Orders 1215–1250, PhD, Univ. of Haifa, supervised by Sophia Menache. Petro, Theodore D., Crusaders and Chivalry: Crusade Veterans and Ideals of 12th-Century Chivalry, Univ. of Cincinnati, Ohio. Phillips, Simon, The Role of the Prior of St. John in Late Medieval England, c.1300–1540, PhD, King Alfred’s College, Winchester, England, supervised by Michael Hicks. Purkis, William J., Crusade and Pilgrimage Spirituality, c.1050–c.1215, PhD in History, Univ. of Cambridge, supervised by Jonathan Riley-Smith.

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Rist, Rebecca, The Papacy and the Development of the Idea of ‘Internal’ Crusades, 1198–1245, PhD. Roché, Jason, The Raid in the Latin East: Scope and Consequence, PhD, Univ. of St. Andrews. Rodríguez García, José Maria, La Cruzada en los reinos de Castilla León, 1245–1315, PhD, Univ. of Salamanca, supervised by Carlos de Ayala Martinez. Ross, Linda, Relations between the Latin East and Western Europe, 1187–1291, PhD, Royal Holloway, Univ. of London, supervised by Jonathan Phillips. Simpson, Alicia, Niketas Choniates: Studies on a Byzantine Historian, PhD, King’s College London. Stiles, Paula, Templar Relations with Non-Christians in 12th and 13th Century Catalonia, PhD, Department of Medieval History, Univ. of St. Andrews. Struckmeyer, Myra, The Role of Women in the Order of St. John, 1113–1373, PhD, Univ. of North Carolina, Chapel Hill. Tolstoy-Miloslavski , Dmitri, The Italian Policy of Manuel I Comnenus, 1143–1180, MPhil/PhD, Royal Holloway, Univ. of London, supervised by Jonathan Harris. Wright, Christopher, The Gattilusi of Lesbos: Diplomacy and Lordship in the Late Medieval Aegean, MPhil/PhD, Royal Holloway, Univ. of London, supervised by Jonathan Harris. 7. Fieldwork planned or undertaken recently Bahat, Dan, Crusader remains in the western wall tunnels, Jerusalem. Bonneaud, Pierre, The Hospitaller Priory of Catalunya in the First Half of the 15th Century. Carlsson, Christer, archaeological fieldwork in Årsta Comturie, Södermanland, Sweden. Mitchell, Piers D., trip to Israel in May 2002 to study crusader period human skeletal remains from excavations at Caesarea and Vadum Iacob for evidence of disease and injuries. Pringle, Denys R., July 2002 led a two-week study tour of the castles of southern Turkey and northern Cyprus for the Castle Studies Group; December 2002 Jerusalem work in connection with vol. 3 of “The Churches of the Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem”; January 2003 third season of survey and excavation on the castle of al-ÿAqaba (Jordan), in collaboration with Dr Johnny De Meulemeester (Division du Patrimoine du Ministère de la Région Wallonne), Dr Andrew Petersen (CBRL and Cardiff Univ.) and Mrs Sawsan al-Fakhri (Department of Antiquities of Jordan). Richard, Jean, translation of the Relatio de Davide and the Historia Tartarorum by Simon de Saint-Quentin. Roll, Israel, direction of the 15th season of excavations at Apollonia-Arsuf, on the coast of Herzliya, Israel, digging in the south of the site (area E), finds including Byzantine, Early Islamic and Crusader periods. Ryan, James D., March 2003 with a PSC/CUNY grant work in libraries of Portugal on the Secular Canons of St. John the Evangelist and their missionary activities. 8. News of interest to members a) Conferences and seminars 2003 June 19–21 Mediterranean Studies: Identities and Tensions, workshop/symposium organised by Brian A. Catlos (History, UC Santa Cruz), Mia Fuller (Italian Studies, UC

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Berkeley) and Karla Mallette (Civilization Sequence Program, American Univ. of Beirut), to be held at the American Univ. of Beirut. 2004 August 25–29 Istanbul, Conference of the SSCLE on the general topic “1204, a Turning Point in the Relations between Eastern and Western Christians?” 2005 July Sidney, International Congress of Historical Sciences 2005 July IV Medieval Chronicles Conference, Univ. of Reading, for inclusion in the mailing list contact [email protected] IMC Leeds information available at http://www.leeds.ac.uk/imi/imc/imc.htm or [email protected] b) Other news N. Berend reports on her project “Christianization and State-Building in Central and Northern Europe c900–c1200” that is a collaboration with scholars from the Czech Republic, Hungary, Poland, Denmark, Norway, Sweden and the United Kingdom. It includes an investigation of crusade and mission in Scandinavia and Central Europe. P. Crawford recently taught a course on Just War theory at Alma College, and assembled a list of primary source readings on the subject which he would be happy to share with members, [email protected] J. J. Gross reports that on 17 December 2002 a website “Trinitarian History and Heritage” has been started to publish studies in the original language or in English translation; the address is: http://www.trinitarianhistory.org J. Harris reports that the Hellenic Institute at Royal Holloway, Univ. of London, is offering two studentships, one covering fees only, one fees + some maintenance, to students of proven ability enrolling for the MA in Late Antique and Byzantine Studies for 2003–4. Further information also [email protected] Paul Hetherington has a limited number of copies of his book The Greek Islands: Guide to the Byzantine and Medieval Buildings and their Art (London: Quiller Press, 2001), ISBN 1 899163 68 9, normal price £12.95, available at a special reduced price to SSCLE members: £11.50 (U.K.) or £12.50 (Europe) including postage and packing costs. Please contact the author directly: see the list of members’ addresses. G. A. Loud has prepared translated medieval texts on Norman Italy and the crusades, http:/www.leeds.ac.uk/history/weblearning/MedievalHistoryTextCentre/medievalTexts.htm The Istituto Mabillon announces its new courses for the academic year 2002/03; contact Prof. P. Mark Sheridan OSB, Decano della Facoltà di Teologia, Pontificio Ateneo Sant’Anselmo, Piazza Cavalieri di Malta 5, I-00153 Roma, [email protected] M.-A. Nielen reports that from May 2003 to September 2005 there will be an exhibition and an exhibition catalogue “Sceaux et usages de sceaux: Images de la Champagne médiévale” with documents concerning among others the Joinville, Brienne, Champlitte and Villehardouin families; Joinville (Haute-Marne), Châlons (Marne), Reims (Marne), Troyes (Aube) and Paris. In April–July 2004 there will be a special exhibition “The Crusaders: Europe’s Encounter with the Orient”, a joint project of the Reiss-Engelhorn-Museum Karlsruhe and the Bischöfliches Dom- und Diözesanmuseum Mainz. The visitor will be introduced to three centuries of western and oriental history. The opening in Germany will take place in April 1204. The exhibition will be supported by the Foreign Office of the Federal Republic of Germany, the Federal Foundations for Culture of the States and the Foundation for Culture of

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Rhineland Palatinate. Additionally there will be a catalogue written by internationally known academics and a supporting programme with interreligious and cultural discussions and events. 9. Members’ queries D. [Dennis-]Cushing asks for help in translating a Latin/Portuguese chronicle of the third crusade; contact: [email protected] O. Terlinden wants a copy of the book “Tancred” by Nicholson (Chicago, 1940). 10. Officers of the Society President: Professor Michel Balard. Honorary Vice-Presidents: Professor Jean Richard, Professor Jonathan Riley-Smith. Secretary: Professor Sophia Menache. Assistant Secretary: Professor Luis García-Guijarro Ramos. Editor of the Bulletin: Professor Karl Borchardt. Treasurer: Dr Thomas S. Asbridge. Committee of the Society: Professor Robert Huygens (Leiden), Professor Hans Eberhard Mayer (Kiel).

11. Income and expenditure account for the Society from 1 October 2001 to 17 September 2002* U.S. account ($) U.K. account (£) Euro account (!) INCOME $6,656.27 Balance brought down £4,290.94 Balance brought down – $2,796.18 Subs. etc. received (net) £2,747.91 Subs. etc. received (net) !1,073.94 Subs. received (net) $5.61 Interest received (9 months) £5.56 Interest received (9 months) £77.00 Reimbursement of postage costs £40.00 Sales of Crusade & Settlement $2,801.79 Total income £2,870.47 Total income !1,073.94 Total income EXPENDITURE £287.64 Treasurer’s expenses (includes !359.00 Secretary’s expenses (2 years) expenses for journal Crusades) !456.00 Subventions to students** £35.00 Review editor’s expenses !15.64 Bank charges for subventions £235.00 Subventions to students** £20.00 Bank charges for subventions $ nil Total Expenditure £577.64 Total expenditure !830.64 Total expenditure SURPLUS OF INCOME OVER EXPENDITURE $2,801.79 £2,292.83 !243.30 BALANCE CARRIED FORWARD, 17 SEPTEMBER 2002 $9,458.06 £6,583.77 !243.30 * The year end was early because of the handover to the new treasurer. ** In 2001–2002, for the first time, the Society made subventions available to assist postgraduate students and independent scholars attending conferences outside their own country. Applications were made to the treasurer in the first instance and were considered by the treasurer and president of the Society. A total of three grants were made to scholars from the U.S.A., Hungary and Spain to attend the International Medieval Congress in Leeds in July 2002, a total sum of £552 including bank charges. In September 2002 this policy was undergoing review by the new committee of the Society. Helen Nicholson, Retiring Treasurer

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12. List of members and their addresses Shawn D. Abbott, 924 Greenbriar Road, Muncie IN 47304-3260, U.S.A.; sdbabbott@ hotmail.com Prof. Baudouin van den Abeele, Rue C. Wolles 3, B-1030 Bruxelles, BELGIUM; [email protected] Dr Anna Sapir Abulafia, Lucy Cavendish College, Cambridge CB3 0BU, ENGLAND, U.K. Dr David S. H. Abulafia, Gonville and Caius College, Cambridge CB2 1TA, ENGLAND, U.K. Gabriella Airaldi, Dipartimento di Scienze dell’antichità e del medioevo (DISAM), Università di Genova, Via Lomellini 8, I-16124 Genoa, ITALY; tel.: 0039-010-2465897 and 2099602, fax: 0039-010-2465810 Brian Allison Lewis, c/o Sabic, PO Box 5101, Riyadh 11422, SAUDI ARABIA Prof. Reuven Amitai-Preiss, Department of Islamic and Middle Eastern Studies, Hebrew University, Jerusalem 91905, ISRAEL; [email protected] Dr Monique Amouroux, 2, Avenue de Montchalette, Cassy, F-33138 Lanton, FRANCE Prof. Alfred J. Andrea, 161 Austin Drive, #3, Burlington VT 05401, U.S.A.; aandrea@zoo. uvm.edu Dr Benjamin Arbel, School of History, Tel-Aviv University, Tel-Aviv 69978, ISRAEL; [email protected] Dr Marco Arosio, Università del Sacro Cuore, Milano, ITALY; [email protected] Dr Thomas S. Asbridge, Department of History, Queen Mary and Westfield College, University of London, Mile End Road, London E1 4NS, ENGLAND, U.K.; t.s.asbridge@ qmul.ac.uk Dr Hussein M. Attiya, 20 Ahmed Sidik Street, Sidi Gaber El-Shiek, Alexandria, EGYPT Prof. Taef K. el-Azhari, 6/14 Zahraa El-Maadi, Second Sector, Cairo 11435, EGYPT; [email protected] Dr Mohammed Aziz, PO Box 135513, Beirut, LEBANON Dr Bernard S. Bachrach, University of Minnesota, Department of History, 633 Social Sciences Building, Minneapolis MN 55455, U.S.A. Dr Dan Bahat, PO Box 738, Mevasseret Zion 90805, ISRAEL; [email protected] Prof. Michel Balard, 4, rue des Remparts, F-94370 Sucy-en-Brie, FRANCE, [email protected] Laura Balletto, Via Orsini 40/B, I-16146 Genoa, ITALY; [email protected] Paul Walden Bamford, 2204 West Lake of the Isles Parkway, Minneapolis MN 55405-2426, U.S.A. Prof. Malcolm Barber, Department of History, University of Reading, PO Box 218, Whiteknights, Reading RG6 6AA, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Prof. John W. Barker, Department of History, University of Wisconsin, 3211 Humanities Building, Madison WI 53706, U.S.A.; [email protected] Sebastian Bartos, 1969 78th Street, Flushing NY 11370, U.S.A.; [email protected] The Rev. Fr. Robert L. Becerra, Senior Associate Pastor, St Luke Catholic Church, 2892 South Congress Avenue, Palm Springs FL 33461-2170, U.S.A.; [email protected] Dr Bruce Beebe, 1490 Mars Lakewood OH 44107, U.S.A.; [email protected]

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Prof. George Beech, Department of History, Western Michigan University, Kalamazoo MI 49008, U.S.A.; [email protected] Elena Bellomo, via dei Rospigliosi, I-20510 Milano, ITALY; [email protected] Jacob Ben-Cnaan, 52 Katz Street, Petakh-Tikva 49374, ISRAEL; [email protected] Matthew Bennett, 58 Mitchell Avenue, Hartley Wintney, Hampshire RG27 8HG, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Dr Nora Berend, St Catharine’s College, Cambridge CB2 1RL, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Jessalynn Bird, Apt. 3, 3933 North Paulina Street, Chicago IL 60613, U.S.A; [email protected] Prof. Nancy Bisaha, Department of History, Vassar College, Maildrop 81, 124 Raymond Avenue, Poughkeepsie NY 12604, U.S.A.; [email protected] Prof. John R. E. Bliese, Communication Studies Department, Texas Tech University, Lubbock TX 79409, U.S.A. Dr Adrian J. Boas, Institute of Archaeology, Hebrew University of Jerusalem, Jerusalem 91905, ISRAEL Prof. Mark S. Bocija, Columbus State Community College, 550 E. Spring Street, Columbus OH 43216-1609, U.S.A.; [email protected] Louis Boisset, Université Saint-Joseph de Beyrouth, BP 166 778, Achrafieh, Beirut, LEBANON Brenda M. Bolton, 8 Watling Street, St Albans AL1 2PT, ENGLAND, U.K.; b.m.bolton@ qmw.ac.uk Barbara Bombi, via Leonardo da Vinci 26, I-27029 Vigevano (PV), ITALY; bbombi@ libero.it Pierre Bonneaud, carretera de Sant Vicenç 47, E-08394 Sant Vicenç de Montalt (Barcelona), ESPAÑA; [email protected] Prof. Karl Borchardt, Wiesenstraße 18, D-91541 Rothenburg ob der Tauber, GERMANY; [email protected] Prof. Charles R. Bowlus, History Department, University of Arkansas, 8081 Mabelvale, Little Rock AR 72209-1099, U.S.A.; [email protected] Prof. Charles M. Brand, 508 West Montgomery Avenue, Haverford PA 19041-1409, U.S.A.; [email protected] Dr Michael Brett, School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London, Malet Street, London WC1E 7HP, ENGLAND, U.K. Robert Brodie, 61 St Saviours Wharf, 8 Shad Thames, London SE1 2YP, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Judith Bronstein, Ilanot 29/2, Haifa 34324, ISRAEL; [email protected] Prof. Elizabeth A. R. Brown, 160 West 86th Street PH4, New York NY 10024, U.S.A.; [email protected] Prof. James A. Brundage, 1102 Sunset Drive, Lawrence KS 66044-4548, U.S.A.; [email protected] Dr Marcus G. Bull, Department of Historical Studies, University of Bristol, 13–15 Woodland Road, Clifton, Bristol BS8 1TB, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected]

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SSG Almyr L. Bump, 7070 Austrian Pine Way #1, Portage MI 49204, U.S.A.; bump4@ juno.com Dr Jochen Burgtorf, California State University, Department of History, Fullerton CA 92834-6846, U.S.A.; [email protected] Olivier Burlotte, Appartment 122, 10-10 A boulevard, Spiridonovska Ul. 22/2, Moscow, 103 001, RUSSIA, [email protected] Charles Burnett, Warburg Institute, Woburn Square, London WC1H 0AB, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] The Rev. Prof. Robert I. Burns, History Department, UCLA, Los Angeles CA 90095, U.S.A.; fax: (310) 338-3002 Dr Peter Burridge, Harmer Mill, Millington, York YO4 2TX, ENGLAND, U.K. Ane Lise Bysted, Department of History, University of Southern Denmark, Campusvej 55, DK-5230 Odense M, DENMARK; [email protected] Dr J. P. Canning, History Department Univ. College of North Wales, Bangor, Gwynedd, WALES, U.K. Franco Cardini, PO Box 2358, I-50123 Firenze Ferrovia, ITALY Christer Carlsson, Medieval Archaeologist, Litsbyvägen 66, 18746 Täby, SWEDEN Alan Brady Carr, 2522 20th Street, Lubbock TX 79410, U.S.A. Dr Annemarie Weyl Carr, Division of Art History, Southern Methodist University, PO Box 750356, Dallas TX 75275-0356, U.S.A.; [email protected] Marc Carrier, 500 Alexandre-Dumas, Granby Quebec J2J 1B2, CANADA Jennifer Casten, 875 Western Avenue, Apt. 3, Brattleboro VT 05301, U.S.A.; nulla@macol. net Prof. Brian Catlos, University of California Santa Cruz, Stevenson Academic Center, 1156 High Street, Santa Cruz CA 95064, U.S.A.; [email protected] Prof. Fred A. Cazel Jr., 309 Gurleyville Road, Storrs Mansfield CT 06268-1439, U.S.A. Dr Simonetta Cerrini[-Alloisio], Via Antonio Gramsci 109/32, I-15076 Ovada (Alessandria), ITALY; [email protected] Anton Charlton, 16 Muswell Hill, Muswell Hill, London NJ0 3TA, ENGLAND, U.K. Dr Martin Chasin, 1125 Church Hill Road, Fairfield CT 06432-1371, U.S.A.; mchasin@ worldnet.att.net Dr Katherine Christensen, CPO 1756 Berea College, Berea KY 40404, U.S.A.; [email protected] Dr Niall G. F. Christie, Department of Classical, Near Eastern and Religious Studies, The University of British Columbia, BUCH C260-1866 Main Hall, Vancouver B.C. V6T 1Z1, CANADA; [email protected] Ioanna Christoforaki, Aristotelous 26, Chalandri, Athens 15234, GREECE; joanna. [email protected] Dr Juliana Chrysostomides, Department of History, Royal Holloway, University of London, Egham Hill, Egham, Surrey, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Padre Giulio Cipollone, B.S.S.T., Padri Trinitari, Piazza S. Maria alle Fornaci, I-00165 Roma, ITALY; [email protected] Dr G. H. M. Claassens, Departement Literatuurwetenschap, Katholieke Universiteit Leuven, Blijde Inkomststraat 21, Postbus 33, B-3000 Leuven, BELGIUM

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Pierre-Vincent Claverie, 9, rue du Bois-Rondel, F-35700 Rennes, FRANCE Dr Penny J. Cole, Trinity College, 6 Hoskin Avenue, Toronto, Ont. M5S 1HB, CANADA; [email protected] Prof. Eleanor A. Congdon, Youngstown State University, One University Plaza, Youngstown OH 44555, U.S.A.; [email protected] Prof. Giles Constable, 506 Quaker Road, Princeton NJ 08540, U.S.A. Prof. Olivia Remie Constable, Department of History, University of Notre Dame, Notre Dame IN 46556-0368, U.S.A.; [email protected] Prof. Robert F. Cook, French Language and General Linguistics Department, University of Virginia, 302 Cabell Hall, Charlottesville VA 22903, U.S.A. Prof. Rebecca W. Corrie, Phillips Professor of Art, Bates College, Lewiston ME 04240, U.S.A.; [email protected] Prof. Ricardo Luiz Silveira da Costa, Rua Joao Nunes Coelho 264 apto. 203, Ed. Tom Jobim – Bairro Mata da Praia – Vitória – Espíritó Santo (ES), CEP 29.065-490, BRAZIL; [email protected] or [email protected] Dr Nicholas S. Coureas, PO Box 26619, Lykarittos, CY-1640 Nicosia, CYPRUS The Rev. H. E. J. Cowdrey, 30 Oxford Road, Old Marston, Oxford 0X3 0PQ, ENGLAND, U.K.; fax (0) 1865 279090 Dr Paul Crawford, History Department, Alma College, 614 West Superior Street, Alma MI 48801, U.S.A.; [email protected] Prof. Larry S. Crist, 6609 Rolling Fork Drive, Nashville TN 37205, U.S.A. B. Thomas Curtis, 36 Brockswood Lane, Welwyn Garden City, Herts. AL8 /BG, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Dana [Dennis-]Cushing, PO Box 9088, Waukegan IL 60079, U.S.A.; denniscushingdl@ mfr.usmc.mil Charles Dalli, Department of History, Faculty of Arts, University of Malta, Msida MSD06, MALTA; [email protected] Philip Louis Daniel, Archivist, Equestrian Order of the Holy Sepuchre of Jerusalem, 37 Somerset Road, Meadvale, Redhill, Surrey RH1 6LT, ENGLAND, U.K.; fax: 01737-240722 Dr Béatrice Dansette, 175, Boulevard Malesherbes, F-75017 Paris, FRANCE Nicole Dawe, 21 New Road, Okehampton, Devon EX20 1JE, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Julian Deahl, c/o E. J. Brill, PO Box 9000, NL-2300 PA Leiden, THE NETHERLANDS; [email protected] Dr Bernhard Demel O.T., Leiter des Deutschordenszentralarchivs, Singerstraße 7, A-1010 Wien, AUSTRIA; tel. 513 70 14 Prof. Iþin Demirkent, Head of Middle Ages History Department, Ýstanbul Üniversitesi Edebiyat Fakültesi Tarih Bölümü, Beyazýt – Ýstanbul, TURKEY; address for all correspondence: Darýca, Tuzla Cad. 67 Kocaeli, TURKEY; fax: 212.6290312 John A. Dempsey, 218 Edgehill Road, Milton MA 02186-5310, U.S.A.; [email protected] Prof. Alain Demurger, 5, rue de l’Abricotier, F-95000 Cergy, FRANCE; Alain.Demurger@ wanadoo.fr Prof. George T. Dennis, Loyola Marymount University, PO Box 45041, Los Angeles CA 90045-0041, U.S.A.; [email protected]

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Prof. Lucy Der Manuelian, 10 Garfield Road, Belmont MA 02178-3309, U.S.A.; [email protected] Americo De Santis, 88 East Main Street, Box Number 141, Mendham NJ 07945, U.S.A.; [email protected] Dr M. Gary Dickson, Department of History, University of Edinburgh, Wm. Robertson Building, 50 George Square, Edinburgh EH15 2DF, SCOTLAND, U.K.; Gary.Dickson@ ed.ac.uk Prof. Richard Divall, 301 Arcadia, 228 The Avenue, Parkville, Victoria 3052, AUSTRALIA; [email protected] Dr Erica Cruikshank Dodd, 4208 Wakefield Place, Victoria, B.C. V8N 6E5, CANADA César Domínguez, Universidad de Santiago de Compostela, Facultad de Filologia, Avda. Castealo s/n, E-15704 Santiago (La Coruna), ESPAÑA Cristina Dondi, 12 Battishill Street, London N1 1TE, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected]. ac.uk Ara Dostourian, Box 420, Harmony RI 02829, U.S.A. Mary Dourou-Eliopoulou, Kephallenias 24, Althea 36km.Sounion Ave., 19400 Attiki, GREECE; [email protected] Dr Jean Dunbabin, St Anne’s College, Oxford OX2 6HS, ENGLAND, U.K. Mark Dupuy, 119 South Sixth Avenue, Apartment A, Clarion PA 16214, U.S.A.; mdupuy@ clarion.edu John Durant, 32 Maple Street, PO Box 373, West Newbury MA 01985, U.S.A. Dr Valerie Eads, 308 West 97th Street, New York NY 10025, U.S.A.; [email protected] Prof. Richard Eales, School of History, University of Kent, Canterbury CT2 7NX, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Ana Echevarría Arsuaga , c/o San Ernesto 4.5o C., E-28002 Madrid, ESPAÑA; [email protected] Prof. Peter W. Edbury, School of History and Archaeology, Cardiff University, PO Box 909, Cardiff CF10 3XU, WALES, U.K.; [email protected] Dr Susan B. Edgington, 3 West Street, Huntingdon, Cambs. PE29 1WT, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Axel Ehlers, Berdingstraße 4a, D-30451 Hannover, GERMANY; [email protected] Prof. Sven Ekdahl, Sponholzstraße 38, D-12159 Berlin, GERMANY; [email protected] Dr Ronnie Ellenblum, 13 Reuven Street, Jerusalem 93510, ISRAEL; msronni@pluto. mscc.huji.ac.il Prof. Kasper Elm, Koserstraße 20, D-14195 Berlin, GERMANY Prof. Steven A. Epstein, Department of History, 204 Hellems, Campus Box 234, University of Colorado, Boulder CO 80309-0234, U.S.A.; [email protected] Dr Helen C. Evans, The Medieval Department, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1000 Fifth Avenue, New York NY 10028, U.S.A.; [email protected] Michael Evans, Flat 6, Marston Ferry Court, Oxford OX2 7XH, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Prof. Theodore Evergates, 146 West Main Street, Westminster MD 21157, U.S.A.

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John C. Farquharson, 19 Long Croft Lane, Cheadle Hulme, Cheadle Cheshire SK8 6SE, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Prof. Marie-Luise Favreau-Lilie , Kaiser-Friedrich-Straße 106, D-10585 Berlin, GERMANY; [email protected] Jack Fergusson, Department of Chemistry, University of Canterbury, Christchurch, NEW ZEALAND; [email protected] P. J. Flaherty, 9 Oak Street, Braintree MA 02184, U.S.A. Prof. Richard A. Fletcher, Low Pasture House, Nunnington, York YO62 5XQ, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Prof. Jean Flori, 69 rue Saint Cornély, F-56340 Carnac, FRANCE; [email protected] Prof. Jaroslav Folda, Department of Art, University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill NC 27599-3405, U.S.A.; [email protected] Michelle Foltz, M.D., PMB 33, PO Box 1226, Columbus MT 59019, U.S.A. Dr Alan Forey, The Bell House, Church Lane, Kirtlington, Oxon. OX5 3HJ, ENGLAND, U.K. Edith Forman, 38 Burnham Hill, Westport CT 06880, U.S.A. Barbara Frale, via A. Gramsci 17, I-01028 Orte (VT), ITALIA; [email protected] Dr John France, History Department, University of Wales, Swansea SA2 7PP, WALES, U.K.; [email protected] Dr Peter Frankopan, Worcester College, Oxford OX1 2HB, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Dr Yvonne Friedman, Department of General History, Bar-Ilan University, Ramat-Gan 55900, ISRAEL; [email protected] Stuart Frost, 44 Ratumore Road Charlton, London SE7 7QW, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] R. Froumin, Neve Eitan, D. N. Beit Shean 10840, ISRAEL; [email protected] Michael and Neathery Fuller, 13530 Clayton Road, St Louis MO 63141, U.S.A.; [email protected] Prof. Luis García-Guijarro Ramos, Professor titular de Historia Medieval, Facultad de Huesca, Plaza de la Universidad 3, E-22002 Huesca, ESPAÑA; [email protected] Dr Christopher K. Gardner, University of Nebraska, Department of History ASH 287X, Omaha NE 68182, U.S.A.; [email protected] Giles E. M. Gasper, Wolfson College, Linton Road, Oxford OX2 6UD, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] F. Gregory Gause Jr., 207 Bayard Avenue, Rehoboth Beach DE 19971, U.S.A.; ltcolgause@ aol.com Sabine Geldsetzer, M.A., Westheide 6, D-44892 Bochum, GERMANY; sabine.geldsetzer@ ruhr-uni-bochum.de Prof. Maria Georgopoulou, Department of the History of Art, Yale University, PO Box 208272, New Haven CT 06520-8272, U.S.A.; [email protected] Deborah Gerish, Department of Social Sciences Box 32, Emporia State University, 1200 Commercial, Emporia KS 66801, U.S.A.; [email protected] Ruthi Gertwagen, 30 Ranans Street, PO Box 117, Qiryat Motzkin 26317, ISRAEL; [email protected]

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Prof. John B. Gillingham, 49 Old Shoreham Road, Brighton, Sussex BN1 5DQ, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Prof. Anne Gilmore-Bryson, 1935 Westview Drive, North Vancouver, B.C. V7M 3B1, CANADA; [email protected] J. L. Gils, Gouden Leeuw 820, NL-1103 KS Amsterdam, THE NETHERLANDS Prof. Dorothy F. Glass, 11 Riverside Drive, Apartment 6-OW, New York NY 10023, U.S.A.; [email protected] Prof. Aryeh Grabois, History Department, University of Haifa, Mount Carmel, Haifa 31905, ISRAEL; fax 972-4-82499195 Gilles Grivaud, 8 rue de Général de Miribel, F-69007 Lyon, FRANCE The Rev. Joseph J. Gross, Trinitarian History Studies, PO Box 42056, Baltimore MD 21284, U.S.A.; [email protected] Prof. Klaus Guth, Greiffenbergstraße 35, D-96052 Bamberg, GERMANY Dr Mark E. Hall, Sekihara-cho 1-4166, Sharuman #101, Nagaoka 940-2037, JAPAN; [email protected] Adina Hamilton, 469 Albert Street, Brunswick West Victoria 3055, AUSTRALIA or History Department, University of Melbourne, Parkville Victoria 3052, AUSTRALIA Prof. Bernard Hamilton, 7 Lenton Avenue, The Park, Nottingham NG7 IDX, ENGLAND, U.K. Peter Haritatos Jr., 1500 North George Street, Rome NY 13440, U.S.A. Jonathan Harris, The Hellenic Institute, Royal Holloway, University of London, Egham, Surrey TW20 0EX, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Kathryn D. Harris, 6 Gallows Hill, Saffron Walden, Essex CB11 4DA, ENGLAND, U.K. Dr Alan Harvey, Department of Historical and Critical Studies, University of Northumbria, Newcastle-upon-Tyne NE1 8ST, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] David Hay, 164 McCaul Street Apt. 1, Toronto, Ont. M5T 1WA, CANADA Dr Bodo Hechelhammer, Erzbergerstraße 8, D-64823 Groß-Umstadt/Heubach, GERMANY; [email protected] or Institut für Geschichte, Residenzschloß, D-64283 Darmstadt, GERMANY; [email protected] Prof. Thérèse de Hemptinne, Universiteit Gent, Faculteit van de Letteren, Vakgroep Middeleeuwse Geschiedenis, Blandijnberg 2, B-9000 Gent, BELGIUM Michael Heslop, 2, Boulevard J.-Dalcroze, CH-1204 Geneva, SWITZERLAND; [email protected] Dr Paul Hetherington, 15 Luttrell Avenue, London SW15 6PD, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Dr Avital Heyman, 12 Hertzel Street, Ness-Ziona 74084, ISRAEL; [email protected] Prof. Rudolf Hiestand, Historisches Seminar, Abteilung Mittelalter, Universität Düsseldorf, Universitätstraße 1, D-40225 Düsseldorf, GERMANY Charles A. Hilken, PO Box 4825, St Mary’s College, Moraga CA 94575, U.S.A.; [email protected] Dr George Hintlian, Armenian Patriarchate, PO Box, Jerusalem 14001, ISRAEL Dr Martin Hoch, Konrad-Adenauer-Stiftung, Rathausallee 12, D-53757 Sankt Augustin, GERMANY; [email protected]

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Dr Catherine Holmes, University College, Oxford OX1 4BH, ENGLAND, U.K. Prof. Peter M. Holt, Dryden Spinney, Bletchington Road, Kirtlington, Kidlington, Oxon OX5 3HF, ENGLAND, U.K. Prof. Hubert Houben, Via Marugi 38, I-73100 Lecce, ITALIA; [email protected] Prof. Norman J. Housley, History Department, The University of Leicester, Leicester LE1 7RH, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Prof. Lucy-Anne Hunt, Department of History of Art and Design, Righton Building, Cavendish Street, Manchester M15 6BK, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Zsolt Hunyadi, Veresács u. 29, H-6725 Szeged, HUNGARY; [email protected] Prof. Robert B. C. Huygens, Witte Singel 28, NL-2311 BH Leiden, THE NETHERLANDS Sheldon Ibbotson, PO Box 258, Rimbey, Alberta T0C 2JO, CANADA; bronwen@ telusplanet.net Robert Irwin, 39 Harleyford Road, London SE11 5AX, ENGLAND, U.K.; robert@ robertirwin.demon.co.uk Prof. Peter Jackson, History Department, University of Keele, Keele, Staffs. ST5 5BG, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Martin Jacobowitz, The Towers of Windsor Park, 3005 Chapel Avenue – 11P, Cherry Hill NJ 08002, U.S.A. Prof. David Jacoby, History Department, The Hebrew University, Jerusalem 91905, ISRAEL; [email protected] Dr Kay Peter Jankrift, Institut für Geschichte der Medizin der Robert Bosch Stiftung, Straußweg 17, D-70184 Stuttgart, GERMANY. Dr Nikolas Jaspert, Institut für Geschichte, Universität Erlangen-Nürnberg, Kochstraße 4, D-91056 Erlangen, GERMANY; [email protected] Carsten Selch Jensen, Department of History, University of Southern Denmark, Campusvej 55, DK-5230 Odense M, DENMARK; [email protected] Janus Møller Jensen, Institute of History and Civilization, University of Southern Denmark, DK-5230 Odense M, DENMARK; [email protected] Prof. Kurt V. Jensen, Department of History, Odense University, Campusvej 55, DK-5230 Odense M, DENMARK; [email protected] Prof. William Chester Jordan, History Department, Princeton University, Princeton NJ 08544, U.S.A.; [email protected] Philippe Josserand, 1 rue Rubens, F-44000 Nantes, FRANCE; philippe.josserand@ humana.univ-nantes.fr Dr Andrew Jotischky, Department of History, University of Lancaster, Bailrigg, Lancaster LA1 4YG, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Dr Margaret A. Jubb, Department of French, Taylor Building, University of Aberdeen, Old Aberdeen, AB24 3UB, SCOTLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Dr Fotini Karassava-Tsilingiri, Chrysostomou Smyrnis 14, N. Smyrni, Athens 17121, GREECE Prof. Benjamin Z. Kedar, Department of History, The Hebrew University, Jerusalem 91905, ISRAEL; fax (home): 972-3-9720802, [email protected] Prof. Nurith Kenaan-Kedar, Department of Art History, Tel-Aviv University, Tel-Aviv 69978, ISRAEL

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Dr Hugh Kennedy, Medieval History Department, University of St Andrews, St Andrews, Fife KY16 9AL, SCOTLAND, U.K. Dr Andreas Kiesewetter, Via La Sila 16/8, I-00135 Roma, ITALIA; [email protected] Sharon Kinoshita, Associate Professor of Literature, University of California Santa Cruz, Santa Cruz CA 95064, U.S.A. Dr Klaus-Peter Kirstein, Lerchenstraße 60, D-45134 Essen, GERMANY; [email protected] Dr Michael A. Koehler, Hertogenlaan 14, B-1970 Wezembeek-Oppem, BELGIUM Prof. Athina Kolia-Dermitzaki, Plateia Kalliga 3, Athens 11263, GREECE; akolia@arch. uoa.gr Wolf Konrad, 6240 Phillips Road, Mundaring 6073, West Australia, AUSTRALIA; wolf17.telstra.easymail.com.au Prof. Barbara M. Kreutz, 1411 Orchard Way, Rosemont PA 19010, U.S.A. Prof. Jürgen Krüger, Edelsheimstraße 2, D-76131 Karlsruhe, GERMANY; juergen.krueger@ geist-soz.uni-karlsruhe.de Hans-Ulrich Kühn, Silcherstraße 9/1, D-71254 Ditzingen-Schöckingen, GERMANY; [email protected] Sarah Lambert, 35 Cromer Road, London SW17 9JN, ENGLAND, U.K.; slambert@ gold.ac.uk The Rev. William Lane, Charterhouse, Godalming Surrey GU7 2DF, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Dr Robert A. Laures, 1434 West Maplewood Court, Milwaukee WI 53221-4348, U.S.A.; [email protected] Stephen Lay, c/o Department of History, Monash University, Melbourne, AUSTRALIA; [email protected] Eric Legg, PSC 98 Box 36, Apo AE 09830, U.S.A.; [email protected] Robert D. Leonard Jr., 1065 Spruce Street, Winnetka IL 60093, U.S.A.; rlwinnetka@ aol.com Dr Antony Leopold, 62 Grafton Road, Acton, London W3 6PD, ENGLAND, U.K. Richard A. Leson, 2720 St Paul Street #2FF, Baltimore MD 21218, U.S.A.; ral2@jhunix. hef.jhu.edu Dr Yaacov Lev, PO Box 167, Holon 58100, ISRAEL Dr Christopher G. Libertini, 27 Lombard Lane, Sudbury MA 01776, U.S.A.; clibertini@ aol.com Dr Giuseppe Ligato, Viale San Gimignano 18, I-20146 Milano, ITALY Prof. Ralph-Johannes Lilie, Kaiser-Friedrich-Straße 106, D-10585 Berlin, GERMANY; [email protected] Dr Ora Limor, The Open University, 16 Klausner Steet, Tel Aviv 61392, ISRAEL; [email protected] Prof. John Lind, Department of History, University of Odense, Campusvej 55, DK-5230 Odense M, DENMARK; [email protected] Dr Simon D. Lloyd, Department of History, University of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, Newcastle Upon Tyne NE1 7RU, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected]

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Prof. Peter W. Lock, 9 Straylands Grove, Stockton Lane, York YO31 1EB, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Scott Loney, 4153 Wendell Road, West Bloomfield MI 48323, U.S.A.; scottloney@ ameritech.net Prof. Graham A. Loud, School of History, University of Leeds, Leeds LS2 9JT, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Prof. Michael Lower, Department of History, University of Minnesota, 614 Social Sciences Building, 267 19th Avenue South, Minneapolis MN 55455, U.S.A.; [email protected] Zoyd R. Luce, 2441 Creekside Court, Hayward CA 94542, U.S.A.; [email protected] Dr Svetlana Luchitskaya, Institute of General History, Leninski pr. 89-346, Moscow 119313, RUSSIA; [email protected] Andrew John Luff, Flat 3, The Hermitage, St Dunstans Road, Lower Feltham, Middlesex TW13 4HR, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Dr Anthony Luttrell, 20 Richmond Place, Bath BA1 5PZ, ENGLAND, U.K. Christopher MacEvitt, Dumbarton Oaks, 1703 32nd Street NW, Washington DC 20007, U.S.A.; [email protected] Merav Mack, Lucy Cavendish College, Cambridge CB3 0BU, ENGLAND, U.K. Dr Alan D. MacQuarrie, 173 Queen Victoria Drive, Glasgow G14 7BP, SCOTLAND, U.K. Thomas F. Madden, Department of History, Saint Louis University, 3800 Lindell Boulevard, PO Box 56907, St Louis MO 63156-0907, U.S.A.; [email protected] Ben Mahoney, 19 Bond Street, Mount Waverly, Victoria 3149, AUSTRALIA Dr Christoph T. Maier, Sommergasse 20, CH-4056 Basel, SWITZERLAND; ctmaier@hist. unizh.ch Chryssa Maltezou, Istituto Ellenico di Studi Bizantini e Postbizantini di Venezia, Castello 3412, I-30122 Venezia, ITALY; [email protected] Prof. Michael Markowski, Department of History, Westminster College, 1840 South 1300 East, Salt Lake City UT 84105, U.S.A. Dr Christopher J. Marshall, 8 Courtyard Way, Cottenham, Cambridge CB4 8SF, ENGLAND, U.K. Dr Carlos de Ayala Martinez, Historia Medieval, Ciudad Universitaria de Cantoblanco, Ctra. De Colmenar, E-28049 Madrid, SPAIN Laurence W. Marvin, Assistant Professor of History, Evans School of Humanities and Social Sciences, Berry College, Mount Berry GA 30149-5010, U.S.A.; [email protected] Dr John F. A. Mason, Christ Church College, Oxford OX1 1DP, ENGLAND, U.K. Kathleen Maxwell, 4016 26th Street, San Francisco CA 94131, U.S.A.; kmaxwell@scu. edu Prof. Hans Eberhard Mayer, Historisches Seminar der Universität Kiel, D-24098 Kiel, GERMANY Robert Maynard, Cuba Villa, 146 Wick Road, Bristol BS4 4HQ, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Andreas Mazarakis, Rizou 3, Athens 10434, GREECE; [email protected] Prof. Rasa Mazeika, 48A Arcadian Circle, Toronto, Ont. M8W 4W2, CANADA Arthur H. S. Megaw, 27 Perrins’ Walk, London NW3 6TH, ENGLAND, U.K.

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Prof. Sophia Menache, Department of History, University of Haifa, Haifa 31905, ISRAEL; [email protected] Marco Meschini, Via Fé 15, I-21100 Varese, ITALY; [email protected] Margaret Meserve, 76 Alexander Street, Princeton NJ 08570, U.S.A.; [email protected] Prof. D. Michael Metcalf, Ashmolean Museum, Oxford OX1 2PH, ENGLAND, U.K. Françoise Micheau, 8bis, rue du Buisson Saint-Louis, F-75011 Paris, FRANCE; fmicheau@ univ-paris.fr Prof. Klaus Militzer, Winckelmannstraße 32, D-50825 Köln, GERMANY; klaus.militzer@ uni-koeln.de Greg Miller, Financial Consultant, Private Client Group, Merrill Lynch, 200 North 4th Street, Burlington IA 52601, U.S.A. Peter John Mills, 3 Huxley Road, Leyton, London E10 5QT, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Prof. Laura Minervini, Dipartimento di Filologia Moderna, Università di Napoli Federico II, Via Porta Di Massa 1, I-80133 Napoli, ITALY; [email protected] Dr Piers D. Mitchell, 2 Milton Mansions, Queen’s Club Gardens, London W14 9RP, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Dr Ann Moffatt, Art History Department, Australian National University, PO Box 4, Canberra ACT 0200, AUSTRALIA Dr Hannes Möhring, Wilhelm-Bode-Straße 11, D-38104 Braunschweig, GERMANY Dr Johannes A. Mol, Grote Dijlakker 29, NL-8701 KW Bolsward, THE NETHERLANDS; [email protected] Dr Kristian Molin, 38 Vessey Terrace, Newcastle-under-Lyme, Staffs. ST5 1LS, ENGLAND, U.K. Lisa K. Monroe, 7417 Park Terrace Drive, Alexandria VA 22307, U.S.A.; nlmonroe@ earthlink.net Dauvergne C. Morgan, 235 Tooronga Road, Glen Iris, Melbourne, Victoria 3142, AUSTRALIA Dr David O. Morgan, 302 Orchard Drive, Madison WI 53705, U.S.A.; domorgan@ facstaff.wisc.edu Jonathan C. Morgan, 19 Elia Street, Islington, London N1 8DE, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] J. Diana Morgan, 64 Victoria Avenue, Swanage, Dorset BH19 1AR, ENGLAND, U.K. Hiroki Moritake, Kami-Ohno 371, Hiyoshi-mura, Kitauwa-gun, Ehime-ken 798-1503, JAPAN; [email protected] The Rev. Prof. Colin Morris, 12 Bassett Crescent East, Southampton SO16 7PB, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Cécile Morrisson, 36, chemin Desvallières, F-924l0 Ville d’Avray, FRANCE Roger D. Mulhollen, Center for Study of Ancient Religious History, 13217 W. Serenade Circle, Sun City West AZ 85375-1707, U.S.A.; [email protected] Prof. M. E. Mullett, Institute of Byzantine Studies, Queen’s University of Belfast, Belfast BT7 1NN, NORTHERN IRELAND, U.K.; [email protected]

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Dr Alan V. Murray, International Medieval Institute, Parkinson 103, The University of Leeds, Leeds LS2 9JT, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Stephen R. A. Murray, Apartment 2419, 77 Huntley Street, Toronto, Ont. M4Y 2P3, CANADA; [email protected] Claude Mutafian, 216 rue Saint-Jacques, F-75005 Paris, FRANCE; claude.mutafian@ wanadoo.fr Alan Neill, 13 Chesham Crescent, Belfast BT6 8GW, NORTHERN IRELAND, U.K.; [email protected] Prof. Robert S. Nelson, Department of Art, University of Chicago, 5540 South Greenwood Avenue, Chicago IL 60637, U.S.A. Michael de Nève, Laubacher Straße 9, D-14197 Berlin, GERMANY or Freie Universität Berlin, FB Geschichts- und Kulturwissenschaften, Koserstraße 20, D-14195 Berlin, GERMANY; [email protected] Dr Helen J. Nicholson, School of History and Archaeology, Cardiff University, PO Box 909, Cardiff CF10 3XU, WALES, U.K.; [email protected] Angel Nicolaou-Konnari, 10 Philiou Zannetou Street, 3021 Limassol, CYPRUS; [email protected] Dr David Nicolle, Beaucaire, 67 Maplewell Road, Woodhouse Eaves, Leics. LE12 8RG, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Mark John Nicovich, 4497 Pershing Avenue #201, St Louis MO 63108, U.S.A. Marie-Adelaïde Nielen, 254, avenue Daumesnil, F-75012 Paris, FRANCE; [email protected] Torben K. Nielsen, History Department, Aalborg University, Fibigerstraede 5, DK-9220 Aalborg, DENMARK; [email protected] Yoav Nitzan, 4 H’Adereth Street, Jerusalem 92343, ISRAEL; [email protected] Prof. Peter S. Noble, Department of French Studies, University of Reading, Whiteknights, Reading RG6 6AA, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Dr Gregory O’Malley, Emmanuel College, Cambridge CB2 3AP, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Prof. Mahmoud Said Omran, History Department, Faculty of Arts, University of Alexandria, Alexandria, EGYPT; [email protected] Col. Erhard (Erik) Opsahl, 5303 Dennis Drive, McFarland WI 53558, U.S.A.; [email protected] Catherine Otten, 9, rue de Londres, F-67000 Strasbourg, FRANCE; [email protected]. Robert Ousterhout, School of Architecture, University of Illinois, 611 Taft Drive, Champaign IL 61820-6921, U.S.A.; [email protected] Dr Johannes Pahlitzsch, Parallelstraße 12, D-12209 Berlin, GERMANY; pahlitz@zedat. fu-berlin.de Tivadar Palágyi, Tapolcsanyi u. 8, H-1022 Budapest, HUNGARY; [email protected] Dr Aphrodite Papayianni, 40 Inverness Terrace, London W2 3JB, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Dr Peter D. Partner, 17 Clausentum Road, Winchester, Hampshire, S023 9QE, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected]

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Prof. Jacques Paviot, 21, rue de Vouillé, F-75015 Paris, FRANCE; Jacques.Paviot@ wanadoo.fr or [email protected] Peter Shlomo Peleg, 2 Mordhai Street, Kiryat Tivon 36023, ISRAEL; fax: 972 4 9931 122; [email protected] Nicholas J. Perry, PO Box 389, La Mesa NM 88044, U.S.A.; [email protected] Theodore D. Petro, 517 McAlpin Avenue, Cincinnati OH 45220, U.S.A.; petrod@email. uc.edu Dr Jonathan P. Phillips, Department of History, Royal Holloway University of London, Egham, Surrey TW20 0EX, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Simon D. Phillips, 1 Turtle Close, Stubbington, Hampshire PO14 3JG, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Dr Mathias Piana, Benzstraße 9, D-86420 Diedorf, GERMANY; mathias.piana@phil. uni-augsburg.de Brenda Pocha, 17 Berryhill, Eltham Park, London SE9 1QP, ENGLAND, U.K. Dr John Porteous, 52 Elgin Crescent, London W11, ENGLAND, U.K. Prof. James M. Powell, 5100 Highbridge Street, Apartment 18D, Fayetteville NY 13066, U.S.A.; [email protected] Jon Powell, 711 SE 11th #43, Portland OR 97214, U.S.A.; [email protected] Dr Karen Pratt, French Department, King’s College London, Strand, London WC2R 2LS, ENGLAND, U.K. Jennifer A. Price, Department of History, University of Washington, PO Box 353560, Seattle WA 98195, U.S.A.; [email protected] Prof. R. Denys Pringle, School of History and Archaeology, Cardiff University, PO Box 909, Cardiff CF10 3XU, WALES, U.K.; [email protected] Dragan Prokic, M.A., Rubensallee 47, D-55127 Mainz, GERMANY; dp.symbulos@ t-online.de Prof. John H. Pryor, History Department, University of Sydney, Sydney, N.S.W. 2006, AUSTRALIA William J. Purkis, 46 Fennec Close, Cherry Hinton, Cambridge CB1 9GG, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Ian D. Quelch, 20 Copperfields, Fetcham, Surrey KT22 9PD, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Yevgeniy / Eugene Rasskazov, Worth Avenue Station, PO Box 3497, Palm Beach FL 33480-3497, U.S.A.; [email protected] Prof. Geoffrey W. Rice, History Department, University of Canterbury, Private Bag 4800, Christchurch, NEW ZEALAND; [email protected] Prof. Jean Richard, 12 rue Pelletier de Chambure, F-21000 Dijon, FRANCE Maurice Riley Esq., PO Box 15819, Adliya, BAHRAIN, Arabian Gulf; mriley@batelco. com.bh Prof. Jonathan S. C. Riley-Smith, The Downs, Croxton, St Neots, Cambridgeshire PE19 4SX, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Rebecca Rist, 50 Roseford Road, Cambridge CB4 2HD, ENGLAND, U.K.; raw2@cam. ac.uk

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The Rev. Leonard Stanley Rivett, 47 Ryecroft Avenue, Woodthorpe, York YO24 2SD, ENGLAND, U.K. Prof. Louise Buenger Robbert, 709 South Skinker Boulevard Apartment 701, St Louis MO 63105, U.S.A.; [email protected] Jason Roché, Seaview, Kings Highway, Largoward, Fife KY9 1HX, SCOTLAND, U.K.; [email protected] José Manuel Rodríguez-García, C/ San Ernesto 4.5o C, E-28002 Madrid, SPAIN; [email protected] Prof. Israel Roll, Department of Classics, Tel-Aviv University, Ramat Aviv, Tel-Aviv 69978, ISRAEL; [email protected] Dean Richard B. Rose, 119 Grandview Place, San Antonio TX 78209, U.S.A. Prof. Myriam Rosen-Ayalon, Institute of Asian and African Studies, The Hebrew University, Jerusalem 91905, ISRAEL Dvora Roshal, PO Box 3558, Beer-Sheva 84135, ISRAEL; [email protected] Linda Ross, Department of History, Royal Holloway University of London, Egham, Surrey TW20 0EX, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Prof. John Rosser, Department of History, Boston College, Chestnut Hill MA 02467, U.S.A.; [email protected] Prof. Miri Rubin, Department of History, Queen Mary, University of London, Mile Ende Road, London E1 4NS, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] James Ruel, Ground Floor Flat, 63 Redland Road, Redland, Bristol B56 6AQ, England, U.K.; [email protected] Prof. Frederick H. Russell, Department of History, Rutgers University, Newark NJ 07102, U.S.A.; [email protected] Prof. James D. Ryan, 100 West 94th Street, Apartment #26M, New York NY 10025, U.S.A.; [email protected] Dr Andrew J. Sargent, 33 Coborn Street, Bow, London E3 2AB, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Prof. Jürgen Sarnowsky, Historisches Seminar, Universität Hamburg, Von-Melle-Park 6, D-20146 Hamburg, GERMANY; [email protected] Christopher Saunders OBE, Watery Hey, Spring Vale Road, Hayfield, Hig Peak SK22 2LD, ENGLAND, U.K. Prof. Alexios G. C. Savvides, Aegean University, Department of Mediterranean Studies, Rhodes, GREECE; or: 7 Tralleon Street, Nea Smyrne, Athens 17121, GREECE; fax: 0109310-040; [email protected] Christopher Schabel, Department of History and Archaeology, University of Cyprus, PO Box 20537, CY-1678 Nicosia, CYPRUS; [email protected] Dr Sylvia Schein, Haifa University, Mount Carmel, Haifa 31905, ISRAEL; [email protected] Jochen Schenk, Emmanuel College, Cambridge CB2 3AP, ENGLAND, U.K.; jgs29@cam. ac.uk Prof. Paul Gerhard Schmidt, Seminar für lateinische Philologie des Mittelalters, AlbertLudwigs-Universität Freiburg, Werderring 8, D-79085 Freiburg i. Br., GERMANY

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Dr Beate Schuster, 19, rue Vauban, F-67000 Strasbourg, FRANCE; beaschu@compuserve. com Prof. Rainer C. Schwinges, Historisches Institut der Universität Bern, Unitobler, LänggassStraße 49, CH-3000 Bern 9, SWITZERLAND Kaare Seeberg Sidselrud, Solbergliveien 87 B, N-0683 Oslo, NORWAY; [email protected]. uio.no Iris Shagrir, Department of History, The Hebrew University, Jerusalem 91905, ISRAEL; [email protected] Prof. Maya Shatzmiller, Department of History, The University of Western Ontario, London, Ont. N6A 5C2, CANADA Karl W. Shea, Unit 6, 93 Avocca Street, Randwick 2031, New South Wales, AUSTRALIA; [email protected] Dr Jonathan Shepard, 14 Hartley Court, Woodstock Road, Oxford OX2 7PF, ENGLAND, U.K. Dr Elizabeth J. Siberry, 28 The Mall, Surbiton, Surrey KT6 4E9, ENGLAND, U.K. Alicia Simpson, 8 Karaiskaki Street, Athens GR-18345, GREECE Dr Gordon Andreas Singer, PO Box 235, Greenbelt MD 20768-0235, U.S.A.; andysinger@ att.net Dr Corliss K. Slack, Department of History #1103, Whitworth College, Spokane WA 99251, U.S.A.; [email protected] Rima E. Smine, 25541 Altamont Road, Los Altos Hills CA 94022, U.S.A. Sheila R. Smith, 111 Coleshill Road Chapelend, Nuneaton Warwickshire CV10 0PG, ENGLAND, U.K. Simon Sonnak, PO Box 1206, Windsor 3181, Victoria, AUSTRALIA; heliade@bigpond. com.au Arnold Spaer, PO Box 7530, Jerusalem 91242, ISRAEL; [email protected] Brent Spencer, 3 9701 89 Street, Fort Saskatchewan, Alberta T8L IJ3, CANADA; [email protected] Dr Alan M. Stahl, 11 Fairview Place, Ossining NY 10562, U.S.A. Prof. Harvey Stahl, Department of the History of Art, University of California, Berkeley CA 94720, U.S.A.; [email protected] Alexandra Stefanidou, 35 Amerikis Street, Rhodos 85100, GREECE; [email protected] Eliezer and J. Edna Stern, Israel Antiquities Authority, PO Box 1094, Acre 24110, ISRAEL; fax: 04-9911682 or 9918074 Alan D. Stevens, Campbell College, Department of History, Belmont Road, Belfast BT4 2ND, NORTHERN IRELAND, U.K.; [email protected] Paula Stiles, Department of Medieval History, 71 South Street, University of St Andrews, St Andrews, Scotland KY16 9AJ, SCOTLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Myra Struckmeyer, 206 White Oak Drive, Durham NC 27707, U.S.A.; struckme@email. unc.edu Shaul Tamiri, Hachail-Halmoni #8, Rishon le Zion 75255, ISRAEL Olivier Terlinden, Avenue des Ramiers 8, B-1950 Kraaïnem, BELGIUM; olivierterlinden@ yahoo.com Miriam Rita Tessera, via Moncalvo 16, I-20146 Milano, ITALY; [email protected]

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Kenneth J. Thomson, Edessa, 8 Salterfell Road, Scale Hall, Lancaster LA1 2PX, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Prof. Peter Thorau, Historisches Institut, Universität des Saarlandes, Postfach 15 11 50, D-66041 Saarbrücken, GERMANY Prof. Hirofumi Toko, 605-3 Kogasaka, Machida, Tokyo 194-0014, JAPAN; ttokou@toyonet. toyo.ac.jp Prof. John Victor Tolan, Université de Nantes, 2, rue de la Chevalerie, F-44300 Nantes, FRANCE; [email protected] Catherine B. Turner, Flat 3, 1055 Christchurch Road, Boscombe East, Bournemouth BH7 6BE, ENGLAND, U.K. Dr Judith M. Upton-Ward, Flat 6, Haywood Court, Reading RG1 3QF, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Prof. William L. Urban, Department of History, Monmouth College, 700 East Broadway, Monmouth IL 61462, U.S.A.; [email protected] Theresa M. Vann, Hill Monastic Manuscript Library, St John’s University, Collegeville MN 56321, U.S.A.; www.hmml.org Dr Marie-Louise von Wartburg Maier, Paphosprojekt der Universität Zürich, Rämistraße 71, CH-8006 Zürich, SWITZERLAND; [email protected] Benjamin Weber, 1, Residence du Parc, F-31520 Ramonville, FRANCE; benyi_tigrou@ hotmail.com Dr Daniel Weiss, History of Art Department, Johns Hopkins University, 3400 North Charles Street, Baltimore MD 21218, U.S.A.; [email protected] Brett E. Whalen, 119 Quillen Court, Stanford CA 94305, U.S.A. Dr Mark Whittow, St Peter’s College, Oxford OX1 2DL, ENGLAND, U.K. Timothy Wilkes, A. H. Baldwin & Sons Ltd., 11 Adelphi Terrace, London WC2N 6BJ, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] The Rev. Dr John D. Wilkinson, 7 Tenniel Close, London W2 3LE, ENGLAND, U.K. Dr Ann Williams, 40 Greenwich South Street, London SE10 8UN, ENGLAND, U.K. Prof. Steven James Williams, Department of History, New Mexico Highlands University, PO Box 9000, Las Vegas NM 87701, U.S.A.; [email protected] Gayle A. Wilson, PO Box 712, Diamond Springs CA 95619, U.S.A.; [email protected] Peter van Windekens, Kleine Ganzendries 38, B-3212 Pellenberg, BELGIUM Prof. Johanna Maria van Winter, Brigittenstraat 20, NL-3512 KM Utrecht, THE NETHERLANDS; [email protected] Prof. Kenneth B. Wolf, Department of History, Pomona College, Pearsons Hall, 551 North College Avenue, Claremont CA 91711-6337, U.S.A. Dr Noah Wolfson, 13 Avuqa Street, Tel-Aviv 69086, ISRAEL; [email protected] Peter Woodhead, Tarry Cottage, Church Lane, Daglingworth near Cirencester, Gloucestershire GL7 7AG, ENGLAND, U.K. Dr John Wreglesworth, Fountain Cottage, 98 West Town Road, Backwell, North Somerset BS48 3BE, ENGLAND, U.K.; [email protected] Prof. Shunji Yatsuzuka, 10–22 Matsumoto 2 chome, Otsu-shi, Shiga 520, JAPAN William G. Zajac, 9 Station Terrace, Penyrheal, Caerphilly, CF83 2RH, Wales, U.K.

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Prof. Ossama Zaki Zeid, 189 Abd al-Salam Aref Tharwat, Alexandria, EGYPT; [email protected] Prof. Monique Zerner, Villa Stella, Chemin des Pins, F-06000 Nice, FRANCE; zernerm@ unice.fr Institutions subscribing to the SSCLE Atatürk Kültür, Dil ve Tarih Yüsek Kumuru, Türk Tarih Kumuru, Baskanligi, TURKEY Brepols Publishers, Steenweg op Tielen 68, B-2300 Turnhout, BELGIUM Bibliothécaire Guy Cobolet, Le Bibliothécaire, École Française d’Athènes, 6, Didotou 10680 Athènes, GREECE Centre de Recherches d’histoire et civilisation de Byzance et du Proche-Orient Chétien, Université de Paris 1, 17, rue de la Sorbonne, 75231 Paris Cedex, FRANCE Centre for Byzantine, Ottoman and Modern Greek Studies, University of Birmingham, Edgbaston, Birmingham B15 2TT, ENGLAND, U.K. Couvent des Dominicains, École Biblique et Archéologique Français, 6 Nablus Road, Jerusalem 91190, ISRAEL Deutsches Historisches Institut in Rom, Via Aurelia Antica 391, I-00165 Rome, ITALY Deutschordenszentralarchiv (DOZA), Singerstraße 7, A-1010 Wien, AUSTRIA Dumbarton Oaks Research Library, 1703 32nd Street North West, Washington D.C. 20007, U.S.A. Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Bibliothek, Kornmarkt 1, D-90402 Nürnberg, GERMANY History Department, Campbell College, Belfast BT4 2ND, NORTHERN IRELAND, U.K. The Jewish National and University Library, PO Box 34165, Jerusalem 91341, ISRAEL The Library, The Priory of Scotland of the Most Venerable Order of St John, 21 St John Street, Edinburgh EH8 8DG, SCOTLAND, U.K. The Stephen Chan Library, Institute of Fine Arts, New York University, 1 East 78th Street, New York NY 10021, U.S.A. Metropolitan Museum of Art, Thomas J. Watson Library, Serials Department, 5th Avenue at 82nd Street, New York NY 10028, U.S.A. Museum and Library of the Order of St John, St John’s Gate, Clerkenwell, London EC1M 4DA, ENGLAND, U.K. Order of the Temple of Jerusalem, The Autonomous Priory of England, Affiliate Order of the Industrial Temple, 151 Glebe Road, Norwich, Norfolk NR2 3JH, ENGLAND, U.K. Serials Department, 11717 Young Research Library, University of California, Box 951575, Los Angeles CA 90095-1575, U.S.A. Sourasky Library, Tel-Aviv University, Periodical Department, PO Box 39038, Tel-Aviv, ISRAEL Teutonic Order Bailiwick of Utrecht, Dr John J. Quarles van Ufford, Secretary of the Bailliwick, Springweg 25, NL-3511 VJ Utrecht, THE NETHERLANDS The Warburg Institute, University of London, Woburn Square, London WC1H 0AB, ENGLAND, U.K. [John Perkins, Deputy Librarian, [email protected]] Eberhard-Karls-Universität Tübingen, Orientalisches Seminar, Münzgasse 30, D-72072 Tübingen, GERMANY

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University of California Los Angeles Serials Department / YRL, 11717 Young Research Library, Box 951575, Los Angeles CA 90095-1575, U.S.A. University of London Library, Periodicals Section, Senate House, Malet Street, London WC1E 7HU, ENGLAND, U.K. University of North Carolina, Davis Library CB 3938, Periodicals and Serials Department, Chapel Hill NC 27514-8890, U.S.A. Universitätsbibliothek Tübingen, Wilhelmstraße 32, Postfach 26 20, D-72016 Tübingen, GERMANY University of Reading, Graduate Centre for Medieval Studies, Whiteknights, PO Box 218, Reading, Berks. RG6 6AA, ENGLAND, U.K. University of Washington, Libraries, Serials Division, PO Box 352900, Seattle WA 98195, U.S.A. University of Western Ontario Library, Acquisitions Department, Room M1, D. B. Weldon Library, London, Ont. N6A 3K7, CANADA W. F. Albright Institute of Archaeological Research, 26 Salah ed-Din Street, PO Box 19096, Jerusalem 91190, ISRAEL

Guidelines for the Submission of Papers The editors ask contributors to adhere to the following guidelines. Failure to do so will result in the article being returned to the author for amendment, or may result in its having to be excluded from the volume. 1. Submissions. Submissions should be made on 3.5 inch, high-density IBM compatible disks and in two typescripts, double-spaced with wide margins. Please send these to one of the editors. Remember to include your name and address on your paper. 2. Length. Normally, the maximum length of articles should not exceed 6,000 words, not including notes. The editors reserve the right to edit papers that exceed these limits. 3. Notes. Normally, notes should be REFERENCE ONLY and placed at the end of the paper. Number continuously. 4. Style sheet. Please use the most recent Speculum style sheet (currently Speculum 75 (2000), 547–52). This sets out the format to be used for notes. Please note that this is not necessarily the same format as has been used by other edited volumes on the crusades and/or the Military Orders. Failure to follow the Speculum format will result in accepted articles being returned to the author for amendment. In the main body of the paper you may adhere to either British or American spelling, but it must be consistent throughout the article. 5. Language. Papers will be published in English, French, German, Italian and Spanish. 6. Abbreviations. Please use the abbreviation list on p. vii of this journal. 7. Diagrams and Maps should be referred to as figures and photographs as plates. Please keep illustrations to the essential minimum, since it will be possible to include only a limited number. All illustrations must be supplied by the contributor in camera-ready copy, and free from all copyright restrictions. 8. Italics. Words to be printed as italics should be italicised if possible. Failing this they should be underlined. 9. Capitals. Please take every care to ensure consistency in your use of capitals and lower case letters. Use initial capitals to distinguish the general from the specific (for example, “the count of Flanders” but “Count Philip of Flanders”). Benjamin Z. Kedar

Jonathan S. C. Riley-Smith Editors

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Addresses: Professor Benjamin Z. Kedar The Institute for Advanced Studies The Hebrew University of Jerusalem Jerusalem 91904, Israel

Professor Jonathan S. C. Riley-Smith Emmanuel College Cambridge CB2 3AP U.K.

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SOCIETY FOR THE STUDY OF THE CRUSADES AND THE LATIN EAST MEMBERSHIP INFORMATION The primary function of the Society for the Study of the Crusades and the Latin East is to enable members to learn about current work being done in the field of crusading history, and to contact members who share research interests through the information in the Society’s Bulletin. There are currently 420 members of the SSCLE from 30 countries. The Society also organizes a major international conference every four years, as well as sections on crusading history at other conferences where appropriate. The committee of the SSCLE consists of: Prof. Michel Balard, President Prof. Jean Richard and Jonathan Riley-Smith, Honorary Vice-presidents Prof. Sofia Menache and Luis Garcia-Guijarro Ramos, Secretary and Assistant Secretary Dr Tom Asbridge, Treasurer Prof. Karl Borchardt, Bulletin editor. Current subscription fees are as follows: • Membership and Bulletin of the Society: Single £11, $15 or !15; • Student £6, $9 or !9; • Joint membership £15, $23 or !23; • Membership and the journal Crusades, including the Bulletin: £20, $30 or !30. For further information about the SSCLE, and for subscriptions, please contact: Dr Tom Asbridge, Department of History, Queen Mary and Westfield College, University of London, Mile End Road, London E1 4NS, England, U.K.