Women in the Kingdom of Jerusalem

The crusader states, established at the beginning of the 12 century, rapidly developed unique political institutions and their own legal traditions. One of the most interesting ways in which they set themselves apart from contemporary societies was the prominent role played by women.  I

In the surrounding Muslim world, of course, women had neither names nor faces, much less a voice, in public. In the Byzantine Empire, on the other hand, women enjoyed considerable freedom, wealth, education and influence, but they did not directly hold power.  In Western Europe, the 12^th century saw several very powerful female rulers, notably the Empress Matilda and Eleanor of Aquitaine, yet the crusader kingdoms stand out because the high status of women in the Holy Land was more comprehensive and institutionalized than in either the Eastern Empire or the Western Europe.

This exceptional position for women probably evolved out of the repeated failure of the ruling dynasties to produce male heirs.  A look at the succession in the Kingdom of Jerusalem illustrates this well. When Baldwin II died in 1131, he was succeeded by his daughter, Melisende, who ruled jointly with her husband Fulk of Anjou (grandfather by his first marriage of Henry II of England). When Fulk died in 1143, Melisende remained Queen of Jerusalem, and ruled jointly with her eldest son, Baldwin III.  Although her son eventually side-lined her, it was only after a struggle in which several powerful barons and most of the clergy sided with the Queen. At Baldwin III’s death in 1163, his heir was his brother Amalric I, but Amalric’s heir was the ill-fated Baldwin IV, the Leper King, who could have no children.  This made his sisters (and through them and their husbands) his heirs.  At Baldwin’s death, the crown passed first to his sister Sibylla’s young son, Baldwin V, and, after his death, to her and her husband, Guy de Lusignan.  At Sibylla’s death, Guy lost his right to the crown (in the eyes of the Barons of Outremer), and it passed instead to Baldwin IV’s other sister Isabella and her successive husbands.  When Isabella died, she was succeeded by her only child, a daughter, Marie, and she conferred the kingship on her husband, John de Brienne, before dying giving birth to yet another girl, Yolanda (or Isabelle), who passed the crown of Jerusalem to her husband, Friedrich II, the Holy Roman Emperor.

In short, in the century between the death of Baldwin II and the ascension of Friedrich II, the crown of Jerusalem passed through the female line no less than ten times! Furthermore, the situation in the crusader states and baronies was similar, if not quite so dramatic; that is, the title to baronies repeatedly passed through heiress rather than heirs. This fact alone would have increased the importance of women, but it is significant that these queens (and countesses and ladies) were not passive vessels.

Melisende was Queen in her own right, commanded loyalty and support among her vassals and forced both her husband and later her son to take her political wishes into account.  Sibylla forced upon the kingdom a man patently unsuitable for the kingship and soon detested by her brother, the reigning King, and the majority of the barons.  When her son Baldwin V died, Sibylla – not Guy – was crowned by the patriarch, and she placed the crown on Guy’s head as her consort.  Furthermore, Guy’s vassals viewed their oaths to him absolved the moment Sibylla died – despite Richard of England’s determined support for Guy.  In the end, even the Lionheart gave up and recognized that without Sibylla, Guy could not be King of Jerusalem. The crown passed to Sibylla’s sister, Isabella. Isabella conferred the crown on three men in succession, Conrad of Montferrat, Henri de Champagne and finally AImery de Lusignan. Notably, Henri de Champagne, a nephew of both Philip II of France and Richard I of England (his mother was a daughter of Eleanor of Aquitaine by Louis VII), never even called himself King of Jerusalem; he remained Count of Champagne, while Isabella was Queen of Jerusalem. Her daughter’s husband, John of Brienne, also lost his title of King of Jerusalem at his wife’s death, although he acted as regent for his infant daughter until she wed Friedrich II.

The dynastic importance of women was both cause and effect of a uniquely high status for women in the crusader kingdoms that took many other forms. Not only did women act as regents and receive homage from vassals, they enjoyed a freedom of movement and opinion that scandalized the Muslim – and sometimes the Christian – world.  Some claim Amalric I’s first wife, Agnes de Courtney, was set aside because of her immorality; certainly she was accused of having affairs with a prelate of the church (later the Patriarch of Jerusalem, Heraclius) and with Aimery de Lusignan. Her daughter Sibylla is alleged to have had an affair with Baldwin d’Ibelin before taking Guy de Lusignan to her bed.  A contemporary claimed that Baldwin IV wanted to hang Guy for “debauching” a princess of Jerusalem, but was then persuaded to let his sister marry her lover.  It was behavior such as this that led many in the West to believe Jerusalem had been lost because of God’s wrath with the immoral Christian rulers.

Yet while the antics of the royal women may indeed have deserved censure, the higher status of women generally meant that widows in the crusader kingdoms exercised far more control over their property and their lives. SIbylla is the most prominent example, but she was not alone in choosing her second husband. Constance of Antioch chose Reynald de Chatillon, and Maria Comnena chose Balian d’Ibelin, just to name two other prominent examples. In short, young girls were married often at very tender ages to boys or men of their parents’ choice, but widows had the power, property and right to choose their own husbands – and often did.

The higher status of women also impacted their daily lives. Upper class women were literate as they could not have otherwise conducted their affairs, and they owned books. Some accounts stress that they rode astride for greater safety in an always precarious environment, something that gave them greater mobility. They did not have to go veiled in public, although women almost certainly covered their faces from the ravaging effects of the summer sun when out of doors.  But perhaps most important, they were entitled to their opinions, free to voice them and often heeded by their male contemporaries. Compared to their faceless and voiceless sisters in the Muslim world, this was undoubtedly the greatest privilege of all.

Why Write Tales of Chivalry?

Chivalry, a vague and ill-defined concept, emerged from the mists of the so-called Dark Ages to become the dominant ethos of Western Europe in the High Middle Ages.  It was neither a form of government nor a religion, yet it shaped societies. It dominated the art and literature of its age more powerfully than any king – indeed as powerfully as Christianity itself.

To be sure, Chivalry was amorphous and ephemeral. It defied definition. It was different things to different people, and it changed over time and across space. Yet it was not mere fantasy or pose. It had a very real impact, because it shaped the way men and women in the Middle Ages thought about themselves and others.

Telling tales of chivalry has a tradition that stretches back to the origins of chivalry itself. Indeed, we can trace the roots of Chivalry to Provence in the 11^th Century.  There a new style of literature emerged: the songs and poems of the troubadours.  These works represented a sharp break with past literary traditions and their style and content produced a completely new view of knights -- and their ladies.  Chivalry, unlike earlier warrior cults from Ancient Greece to the Vikings, was unthinkable without the fairer sex that inspired the great deeds of the male heroes. 

Tales of chivalry soon evolved beyond the poems of the troubadours to full-fledged romances, such as Tristan et Iseult, Perceval, and Le Morte d’Arthur, tales characterized by magic, mythical beasts and romance.  This was the “fantasy fiction” of the Middle Ages.

Alongside these fictional works, however, were tales of chivalry that recorded real events and described the lives of real men. Examples are the biography of William Marshal in the early 13^th century, Jean de Joinville’s biography of King Louis IX half a century later, and Chandos’ Herald’s account of the deeds of Edward of Woodstock, the Black Prince, written at the end of the 14^th century. 

These contemporary tales of chivalry have been the inspiration for my own works set in the Age of Chivalry. Like the originals, my novellas and novels set out to entertain and educate, to honor historical figures -- and create fictional ones. They seek to make the heroes of this age – and the period itself -- more comprehensible to us by writing in the language and style of today.

But I am a historian, and my works are historical fiction -- not fantasy or mystery. Each of my novels is rooted in historical fact and I strive to recreate the period and events with accuracy.  It is because the concept of chivalry exercised such a powerful influence on the historical figures of the 12^th-15^th centuries, that I am pleased to call them Tales of Chivalry.  My characters believe in chivalry – past if not present – and so chivalry embraces them.  

These are tales of brave knights and fair ladies – and of not-so-brave knights and not-so-fair ladies. They are tales of adventure and romance, of faith and betrayal, of treachery and salvation, of cruelty and generosity -- in short, they are tales of humanity.

 I hope you will enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them – and that Chandos’ herald did not err when he wrote:   The telling of good deeds is like alms and charity; it is never lost labor, but always has its return.