The
historical Humphrey de Toron is known mostly for what he lost. He lost his fief,
his wife, and his freedom; he surrendered the most powerful border castles of
Kerak and Montreal to Saladin--and he rejected a crown. Having lost everything
to which he had been entitled by birth and marriage, he fades from the pages of
history to die in an unknown place at an unknown date, without ever having
sired children.
That would be tragic in itself, but what puts Humphrey on the brink of pathetic is that he was very much to blame for most of these losses. A man of different character might have been the founder of a dynasty, rather than an obscure footnote in history. In creating my fictional Humphrey de Toron, therefore, I was very much looking for an explanation of why Humphrey was the way he was. I had a major hint: contemporary accounts of him call him “cowardly and effeminate,” or “more like a woman than a man.” He was said to be very learned, and to have “a gentle manner and a stammer.”
That would be tragic in itself, but what puts Humphrey on the brink of pathetic is that he was very much to blame for most of these losses. A man of different character might have been the founder of a dynasty, rather than an obscure footnote in history. In creating my fictional Humphrey de Toron, therefore, I was very much looking for an explanation of why Humphrey was the way he was. I had a major hint: contemporary accounts of him call him “cowardly and effeminate,” or “more like a woman than a man.” He was said to be very learned, and to have “a gentle manner and a stammer.”
Why
would the heir to of one of the greatest barons of Jerusalem, Humphrey de Toron
II, be so “cowardly and effeminate?
Humphrey
de Toron II (the grandfather of my character) had not only been the lord of the important fief of Toron, he was Constable
of the Kingdom of Jerusalem from 1153 to 1179. Toron owed 18 knights to the
crown, making it a mid-sized barony by man-power, but it held two great
castles, Toron itself and Castel Neuf on the border with Syria east of Tyre.
Furthermore, Constable was not an empty title at this time, but brought with it
the duty to muster and command the feudal armies. Humphrey de Toron II
repeatedly proved his competence in this role, and died of wounds received
defending the young King Baldwin IV at the Battle on the Litani. His son,
Humphrey III, had predeceased him, making Humphrey IV his heir.
We
do not know how old Humphrey IV was at this time. He would have been at least five
and at most thirteen, in either case still a minor. Since young men came of age
at fifteen in the Holy Land and Humphrey continued to live with his mother and
step-father at least until in November 1183; I think he was most likely born in
1168. If so, he was only eleven when he inherited his grandfather’s barony of
Toron. In accordance with the customs of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, although
still a minor, he did not become a ward of the king, but remained in his
mother’s care. She, however, had remarried after his father’s death. When the elder Toron died making his grandsom his heir, she was on her third husband, the infamous Reynald de Châtillon.
Humphrey
had most probably been just six years old when Châtillon became his
step-father. Thus, from the age of six he had been in the care of a man notorious for
having brutally plundered and burned the peaceful, friendly and Christian
island of Cyprus, for having tortured a patriarch to extort money, and would
soon make a reputation as a truce-breaker.
If Humphrey was latter “more like a girl than a boy” it was Reynald de
Châtillon that made him that way. As a novelist I hypothesize a childhood of
intimidation and terror, perhaps intended to make Humphrey “stronger,” but
which in fact only succeeded in making him timid and unsure of himself ― as the
stutter, and later actions, suggests.
Worst case scenario: he was subjected to child abuse by Châtillon, but
there is no historical evidence of this.
Châtillon
was also responsible for negotiating a brilliant marriage for his step-son:
with the king’s half-sister, Isabella of Jerusalem, in 1180, when Isabella was
just eight, and Humphrey probably eleven. While the match itself was a major
coup, the marriage contract Châtillon negotiated stripped Humphrey of his
entire paternity, the barony of Toron. In exchange he received an annual cash
payment. While officially this was because Humphrey would one day inherit his mother’s
barony of Oultrejourdain and the King did not want two such powerful baronies in
the hands of a single lord, but this argument is disingenuous. First, Châtillon
held Oultrejourdain in an iron fist and wasn’t about to give it up as long as
he lived. Secondly, other even more important baronies, such as Galilee, were
held in personal union by extremely powerful lords, e.g. the Count of Tripoli.
It is far more likely that the Queen Mother and her avaricious brother, the titular but
landless Count of Edessa, were
grasping for Toron to enrich themselves (as they did). Apparently, Châtillon didn’t give
a damn about Humphrey’s feelings ― or perhaps he had already despaired of
Humphrey ever being capable of commanding troops. Whatever the reasons, the
loss must have humiliated Humphrey and isolated him further from his paternal
heritage and traditions.
The
other consequence of the marriage was that Isabella came to live with
Humphrey at the border castle of Kerak. She was imprisoned here, cut off from
all contact with her mother and step-father. She
too was at the “tender mercy” of the notorious Châtillon. It seems probable
to me, the novelist, it was in this hostile environment that the two children formed
bonds of friendship and affection. They would both have seen Châtillon as “the
enemy,” the man who had torn Isabella from her mother’s arms and taken
Humphrey’s inheritance away from him. As a novelist, this is the key to
Humphrey’s relationship with Isabella. We can, based on the description of
Humphrey and the fact that his marriage was later invalidated in part because
it was not consummated, assume that Humphrey was homosexual, yet all accounts
stress that he did not want to be separated from Isabella and pined for her years after
she had married not just one other husband but three!
But
loving Isabella was not the same as sharing her vision and dreams nor the same
as respecting her dynastic role as heiress of Jerusalem. In 1186, when
Isabella’s older half-sister Sibylla usurped the crown of Jerusalem without the
consent of the High Court, the majority of barons were prepared to crown
Isabella as a rival queen ― and make Humphrey king of Jerusalem. He was by now
at least seventeen years old, more than old enough by the standards of the day to take up the scepter. Baldwin IV, despite suffering from leprosy, had
led his armies in person at the same age. Any young man with an ounce of ambition, a
trace of courage, or a sense of self-respect would have snatched such an
opportunity. Humphrey instead snuck out in the dark of night and groveled at
Sibylla and her husband’s feet.
Two children in a hostile world: a Victorian depiction of Edward IV's two sons, who were murdered during the reign of Richard III in the Tower of London |
The
argument that Humphrey did this to save the kingdom from civil war cannot be
dismissed out of hand, since even if what came was worse (complete annihilation
of the kingdom), Humphrey can’t be blamed for not having foresight. He can,
however, be blamed for not having the courage to tell the barons who supported him as king to their faces that he refused to play the role they intended for him. Apparently, he
pretended to agree, and then betrayed the barons. His actions were certainly
characterized as “betrayal” by the baronial faction later. It is also
significant that Humphrey’s step-father, Châtillon, was a major supporter of
Sibylla. It is possible, therefore, that his betrayal of his wife may have stemmed from a terror of
opposing Châtillon, or a pathological devotion to the man who had beaten him
into a stammering “coward.” How this affected his relationship with his wife
can only be speculated upon, but while they remained married, it’s hard for me
not to see in Isabella’s later willingness to divorce him a wound that cut
very, very deep.
But
first, the man to whom Humphrey had done homage, Guy de Lusignan, had to lose
the entire kingdom to Saladin. Humphrey is listed in all sources as one of the
prisoners taken by the Sultan at the Battle of Hattin, although it’s unclear
what purpose our “more girl than boy,” troop-less ex-baron was doing there. He
was not released for two years, by which time he spoke excellent Arabic. It is
not clear whether he learned it in captivity or already commanded the language.
What we do know, however, is that Humphrey did not come out of captivity hating
the Saracens as, for example, Châtillon did.
Humphrey
promptly joined Guy de Lusignan’s siege of Acre and took Isabella with him. One
presumes this was because after two years of separation the young couple
(Humphrey was about 21 and Isabella 17) could not bear to be apart. On the
other hand, a medieval siege camp was a horrible, unsanitary place infested
with disease, whores, rats and insects, and this siege was one in which the
besiegers were subject to frequent attacks as well ― not a terribly romantic
place to be.
In
November 1190, Queen Sibylla and both her daughters died in Acre and Isabella
became the heir presumptive to the throne. Unfortunately, however, she needed
the consent of the very barons that her husband had betrayed four years
earlier. They weren’t having Humphrey. The condition of her coronation was that
her marriage to Humphrey be dissolved. This was not difficult, since she had
not been the age of consent when it was contracted.
Humphrey
tried to retain his bride. He testified that she had consented to the marriage
and that the marriage had been consummated. Unfortunately, there were men
present willing to challenge his testimony and demand that he defend his words
in judicial combat. Humphrey declined.
Why?
He must have known that his refusal to defend his testimony with his body would
be seen as 1) proof that he lied and/or 2) cowardice. He must have known that
by refusing to fight for Isabella he would lose her. Perhaps he recognized that
he was too weak to oppose the barons and that he would lose Isabella whether he
fought for her or not. Perhaps, being “effeminate” he simply knew he could not
win any contest at arms. In either case, Humphrey surrendered yet again, this
time his last and arguably most beloved possession ― without a word.
Humphrey accompanied Guy de Lusignan to
Cyprus in 1191, when the former went to meet Richard the Lionheart and seek his
support in the dispute over the crown of Jerusalem. Humphrey, having failed defend his right to
his wife in judicial combat, hoped that the powerful Plantagenet would do what
he could not and regain his wife for him.
Initially, Richard the Lionheart favored the Lusignan claim to the
throne and used Humphrey, who was fluent in Arabic, as an envoy to Saladin. However, these negotiations soon broke down. By
spring 1192, Richard had seen enough to recognize Guy de Lusignan was not fit
to be King of Jerusalem and withdrew his support. Conrad de Montferrat,
Isabella’s new husband, was recognized as the legitimate king.
Just days later an assassination cut
Montferrat’s life short before he could be crowned. Isabella needed a new
husband and the choice of the barons fell on Henri de Champagne. Not only did
Humphrey remain utterly unacceptable to the High Court, when Richard next
opened negotiations with Saladin he turned not to Humphrey but instead to
Balian d’Ibelin.
Humphrey is last mentioned as one of the
barons that accompanied Guy de Lusignan when the latter when to Cyprus for the
last time. Apparently, having sacrificed
everything because of his homage to Guy in 1186, he remained slavishly devoted
to him. It is not recorded that he achieved anything on Cyprus, and he is
believed to have died in 1197 or 1198, at which time he would have been approximately
30 years old. There is no indication of the what the cause of death might have
been. He left no heirs.
Humphrey is a wonderful character for a novel because he was complex and so very
different from your average 12th century knight and baron. He was gentle,
fluent in Arabic, self-effacing to a fault, and utterly lacking in ambition.
And although he contributed directly to the loss of the Kingdom of Jerusalem by
his refusal to take up the scepter in 1186 (thereby enabling the disastrous Guy de
Lusignan to become king), I found myself having sympathy for him.
My Humphrey is therefore a tragic figure that I hope readers will sympathize
with ― even if Balian could not.
Humphrey is a character in the second two books of my Jerusalem trilogy:
Humphrey is a character in the second two books of my Jerusalem trilogy:
As a child and teenager . . . pitiable.
ReplyDeleteAs a young man . . . well past the brink and plunging downward.