The Quest for the Holy Grail, Tapestry by Edward Burne-Jones |
When setting out to write a biography of
Balian d’Ibelin, one of the first things I learned was that he was the third
son of the first Baron of Ibelin, and as such started out in life as an
insignificant and obscure landless knight. It was, historically, his elder
brother Baldwin, who was important ― at least throughout Balian’s youth and
early manhood. Furthermore, it was his brother who gave Balian his chance to
enter history.
Big Brother Baldwin inherited their
father’s modest barony of Ibelin in or about 1170 along with their mother’s
significantly more substantial inheritance, the baronies of Ramla and Mirabel.
Together, these three baronies owed 70 knights to the feudal army, or more
than, for example, the powerful Lord of Oultrejourdain, which owed 60. Furthermore, unlike Oultrejourdain, all three
of these baronies were located on the fertile coastal plain east and south of
Jaffa, and must have yielded very substantial revenues and enabled a splendid
lifestyle for the period. Although technically Baldwin was a “rear vassal” who
held his fiefs from the Counts of Jaffa and Ascalon rather than directly from the king, the
Count of Jaffa and Ascalon became King Amalric I in 1162, making Baldwin de facto a crown vassal. Thus when
Balian came into manhood he stood very much in the shadow of his elder brother
Baldwin. In writing my biographical novel of Balian, therefore, Baldwin had to
be an important character.
But what was Balian’s relationship to
his elder brother like?
We know that later chronicles and modern
historians, writing after Balian had become the founder of a powerful dynasty
that played a key role in the history of crusader states for three hundred
years, often lump Baldwin and Balian together. Indeed, there is a tendency to
refer to Baldwin and Balian as “the Ibelin brothers,” although this term is
anachronistic since Ramla and Mirabel were more important baronies and Baldwin
in his own lifetime would have been identified and addressed by these more
senior titles. Ibelin, on the other hand, was not only a comparatively
insignificant title, but one that Baldwin surrendered (whether willingly or not
is an open question) to his younger brother in or about November 1177. He would
not have been identified by or with it after that date. This careless lumping of Baldwin
and Balian together by the name that was to become important only after both of them were dead, ie. as “Ibelins,” tends to create an impression of closeness and
harmony that may be entirely fictional.
To be sure, in the 12th century family
ties were imprisoning. Everything revolved around family. Families stuck
together through thick and thin. They paid each other's ransoms, they stood as
hostages for one another, they were witnesses for one another, they were each
other’s clients and lords. Perhaps most important: they fought together.
Does that mean that all family members got along with one another all the time? Highly unlikely. On the contrary, the tensions within medieval families could be brutal and bitter. (Witness the Plantagenets: Henry II had to fight wars with his sons, and his sons fought each other in a series of shifting alliances.) In most families (where there was less at stake or personalities (and egos) less excessive), families usually worked together and presented a common front to the outside world, yet that still did not mean they had no rivalries and tensions among themselves.
Does that mean that all family members got along with one another all the time? Highly unlikely. On the contrary, the tensions within medieval families could be brutal and bitter. (Witness the Plantagenets: Henry II had to fight wars with his sons, and his sons fought each other in a series of shifting alliances.) In most families (where there was less at stake or personalities (and egos) less excessive), families usually worked together and presented a common front to the outside world, yet that still did not mean they had no rivalries and tensions among themselves.
As a novelist, therefore, I had to look
beyond the undifferentiated treatment of Balian and Baldwin as two peas in a
pod or two interchangeable parts of a pair and look at them as individuals.
Furthermore, I had to draw on my understanding of human nature in creating a
plausible relationship. Sibling rivalry is one of the most consistent and
frequent patterns of behavior across cultures and ages. It is therefore quite
plausible that Baldwin and Balian were
not always the best friends, much less always of one opinion.
For example, William of Tyre claims that
Baldwin of Ramla (Ibelin) plotted with Tripoli and Antioch to depose Baldwin
IV, and all sources agree that Baldwin refused to take the oath of fealty to
Guy de Lusignan. Indeed, in a shocking and unprecedented incident, Baldwin
renounced his entire inheritance and went into voluntary exile, rather than
take an oath of fealty to Guy de Lusignan. That is the action of a man of great
pride, passion and inflexible principles.
Balian, on the other hand is most famous
for his role as a mediator ― between Tripoli and Lusignan, between Richard the
Lionheart and Saladin. He is also known as a man of compassion and humility,
who did not lay claim to particular influence, much less a crown, even when he
was step-father to the queen or when the Arab chronicles describe him as “like
a king.” Unlike his elder brother, Balian’s loyalty to Baldwin IV and V is
never questioned, and indeed he served Guy de Lusignan as long as Queen Sibylla
lived.
In their personal lives also, the
brothers appear to have been very different. Baldwin married very young, and
then set his wife of almost two decades and the mother of his daughters aside―apparently
for no better reason than he hoped to marry the Princess Sibylla. When that
failed (for whatever reason), Baldwin married again twice. He had one son, but
he abandoned the boy to Balian’s care when he renounced his titles. In short,
his pride and principles with respect to Guy de Lusignan were more important to
Baldwin than his wife and son.
Balian, in contrast, is depicted even by
his detractors as a man very attached to his wife. Strikingly, Balian was not
too proud to beg a favor of his worst enemy, the Sultan of Damascus, for the
sake of rescuing his wife and children. Certainly, the idea of riding hundreds of
miles through enemy held territory to remove his wife and children from
Jerusalem is almost crazy, and suggests ties of affection unusual in this
age. Tripoli, although described as an
affectionate husband, had only a few days earlier urged the army not to relieve the siege of Tiberius,
although his wife was caught in the fortress and requested relief.
In short, I think it is safe to suggest
that historically Baldwin and Balian, no matter how closely they cooperated with one another, were men of
very different temperaments and character. As a novelist, furthermore,
emphasizing those differences and creating a degree of tension between them was
an excellent plot device. In addition, the contrast to Baldwin enabled me to
highlight important aspects of Balian’s character. The Baldwin of my novel is
therefore not only proud and unbending, he is impulsive, hot tempered, flamboyant
and arrogant as well – as I believe many older sons in this age of merciless
primogeniture often were.
Arrogance went hand in hand with the "rights and privileges" of the first born. Nothing ever changes.
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