Matilda: Empress, Queen, Warrior by Catherine Hanley

Book Review

Empress Matilda: power-hungry, haughty, arrogant, stubborn … or so we were once told. Modern lines of thought have now questioned this, however, and in her new book Matilda:Empress, Queen, Warrior Catherine Hanley gives us a fresh perspective on this fascinating character, providing a much-needed in-depth look at the life of Matilda, heir to the English throne, and the events that unfolded as a result of her being named as such.

The book opens with Matilda’s epitaph: ‘Great by birth, greater by marriage, greatest in her offspring. Here lies the daughter, wife and mother of Henry.’ Hanley then sets the tone for the rest of the book as she takes a gendered approach and rightly points out that memorialising Matilda in a way such as this defines her by the men that surrounded her – her father, her husband, her son – and is rather disappointing for a woman such as she, who accomplished a great deal in her own right. Yet, sadly, it is also rather unsurprising.  

The truth is that during this time women were defined by the men around them, though perhaps not solely. There were ideals and expectations for femininity and women (as there were for masculinity and men) and they did not include making your own mark on the world independent of the men around you. In fact, Hanley links this with the very crux of the issue surrounding Matilda.

Hanley makes an excellent point when she says that, on paper, there should not have been any issue regarding Matilda’s succession: she was of royal blood, the only legitimate child of the previous king, she was well-educated and had leadership experience and, perhaps most importantly, she had been named heir to the Crown by the king and the leading nobility had sworn oaths of fealty to her. If Matilda had been male, there would have been no question at all about her right to rule. However, she was not. And one of the primary concerns was that she was seeking to rule in her own right. There had been no precedent for this in England and, due to Matilda’s gender, it was deemed improper for her to actively pursue this for herself. As Hanley puts it, ‘it was impossible at the time not to view her situation through the lens of gender; she was not a person but a woman, and thus her ambitions became both unusual and unacceptable’.

Furthermore, Matilda went as far as to wage war in her pursuit to rule. And she was very much involved in the planning of her campaign, but this was a masculine ideal. Hanley noted that while it’s true women often took on more masculine roles in this period, it was only ever considered acceptable at this time when it was done on behalf of a man – a mother acting as queen regent, for example, or a wife overseeing the rule of her husband’s lands while he was away. As a result of this Matilda became condemned for her decisiveness in her campaign, her wartime leadership abilities and her authoritative manner – the very qualities she would have been praised for had she been a man.

This book therefore raises some interesting issues regarding gender and women in medieval England; however, at the same time it provides a much-needed biography of an often-overlooked person from our history, yet one who had a staggering impact upon it.

The book is generally chronological in structure, beginning with Matilda as a child and being sent away at the age of eight to marry the much older future Holy Roman Emperor Henry V. Hanley considers how hard this must have been for the young girl, but how very well she adapted to her new surroundings and later thrived in them. In fact, Hanley does a wonderful job throughout the book of really personalising the people she is writing about and making you think about how their situations affected them and their actions. This can be a hard thing to do with history. It can be easy to forget these were real people. Instead, Hanley makes us think how scary it must have been for an eight-year-old girl to be uprooted to a new country and culture and married to a stranger. Yes, this was common practice for medieval nobility, but it would nonetheless have been daunting. There are countless moments like this throughout the book where Hanley pauses to consider what a person may have been thinking or feeling, or contextualises the situation to help you understand their motivations better. The history she writes is more than an account of names, places and dates; it is brought to life. Furthermore, she breaks down complex issues (such as the Investiture Contest) and explains them clearly and concisely. This approach makes the book easy to follow for the casual reader, but it is also informative and original enough in its content and arguments for those with a more specialist interest. It strikes a perfect balance.

'Medieval England countenanced the reign of several underage boys and at least one lunatic – to say nothing of various men who were alleged to have been murderers, rapists, or both – but never of a woman.' 

The narrative progresses throughout the next couple of chapters to discuss key events such as the disaster of the White Ship, Henry I’s succession dilemma, Emperor Henry’s death and Matilda’s return to court and, of course, his eventual naming of her as heir to the English throne and the oaths the barons swore to uphold this, including Stephen of Blois, future Stephen I.

Stephen’s usurpation of Matilda’s throne is covered in its own chapter. Hanley points out that a lot of this was luck on Stephen’s part: he was geographically closer than Matilda, meaning news of the king’s death reached him first, and he was also at a location where the shortest possible crossing of the Channel could be made, again granting him the benefits of additional time. It is possible that Stephen arrived in England as soon as one week after the king’s death.

Once news eventually reached Matilda she failed to make a swift departure to England, as Stephen had. Hanley looks at the significance of this and questions the reasons for it. She makes the fascinating conclusion that she was very likely with child at this point – possibly eight to twelve weeks. This is another instance where Hanley really breathes life back into these long-forgotten figures, for she discusses that if this were the case Matilda would have been in her first trimester – a peak time for sickness. A sea journey simply may have been too much for her to bear. With a frustrating inability to travel for the most female of reasons, Matilda’s gender had hindered her once more.

Later chapters continue to proceed broadly chronologically, deviating from time to time to discuss significant individuals (such as Robert of Gloucester, Geoffrey of Anjou and, of course, the future Henry II) and matters of importance concerning them. The events of 1141 are so numerous that Hanley devotes two chapters to it, dividing it by the initial good fortune Matilda’s campaign took in this year (the Siege of Lincoln Castle and Stephen’s capture), to the spiralling downturn it ultimately took. Hanley does an excellent job of telling a complex tale in an easy to follow yet informative manner.

The final two chapters (there are ten in total) look at Matilda’s son Henry, the peace discussions and Matilda’s later years as queen mother. The ultimate agreement that Matilda’s son would become king is an interesting one, and another fine example of Hanley personalising the people she is discussing. She considers how Matilda must have felt at Henry being ‘adopted’ by Stephen in order to be named his heir. While it made a degree of sense due to the legalities (as Stephen had a son, by rights the Crown should have passed to him, but if the king named Henry in his own right then this would have undermined Stephen’s own claim), Hanley emphasises how much of a blow this must have felt like to Matilda. Henry was her son. His claim was through her blood. Yet he was being publically portrayed as Stephen’s son. It was, as Hanley puts it, as if ‘Matilda was written out of her own story’.

In all, this is a fascinating and little-discussed period of history. Matilda was a remarkable woman – intelligent, regal and full of determination and strength of character. Hanley’s well-researched, superbly written biography of her is both sympathetic to Matilda, yet also notes her shortcomings and failures. The gendered approach she takes when considering certain aspects of her story feels both natural and necessary. Matilda’s gender simply was a factor in her story. And what a story it was. 

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Matilda: Empress, Queen, Warrior is available to purchase now. Click here to purchase a copy directly from the publisher's website.

Format: Hardback 

ISBN: 9780300227253

Imprint:Yale University Press 

Dimensions: 296 pages: 235 x 156mm 

Illustrations: 21 b-w illus.

The Legend of King Arthur Through the Ages

Guest Post  by Samantha Knepper 

The legend of King Arthur is one that has captured the attention of the public throughout centuries. Each interpretation and reimaging of the legend reflects the time the author lived in. By tracing the Arthurian myth throughout centuries, the myths that emerge from the different time periods are not just about King Arthur but also the time in which they were created. As much as I would love to go into detail about each reinterpretation, I am using broad strokes and just touching on the major changes with a little bit about each one to give big picture view.

There are mentions of figures before The History of the Kings of Britain that could have been Arthur or were named Arthur, however the legend we are familiar with today really takes off in the twelfth century.  In the twelfth century Geoffrey of Monmouth wrote The History of the Kings of Britain, which was finished in 1136. Monmouth more than likely had a version of Historia Brittonum, ‘History of the Britons’, written by a Welsh historian called Nennius. Nennius drew from numerous chronicles to create a history of the British people, a list of the 28 towns in Britain, and genealogies. The salient point for the Arthurian story is that Nennius mentioned twelve battles that a King Arthur fought. This is more than likely where Monmouth took the idea of King Arthur. I say more than likely as we have none of the sources today that Monmouth possessed. 

The Archbishop presents the sword to Arthur before the people. The inscription on the stone is: 'Whoever pulls this sword out will be king of the land.' c. 1316 France, N. (Saint-Omer or Tournai) From http://www.bl.uk.

Monmouth gives us several key ideas that have stayed with the Arthurian tale: Arthur was conceived due to Merlin’s interference, conception at Tintagel, and Arthur’s mortal wounding but leaving for Avalon instead of dying. Monmouth details the heroic feats of Arthur, making him one of the most outstanding British heroes. Monmouth’s History had numerous copies made, demonstrating its immediate popularity, and inspired other writers. French romance writers picked up the story, most famously Chrétien de Troyes, a French medieval poet, who wrote a serious of Arthurian romances – such as Lancelot and Perceval. German writers were also picking up the story and Wolfram Von Eschenback wrote Parzival. There were a series of prose adaptations that were written called Le Roman de Laurin, the Arthurian Prose Vulgate. The use of Arthurian stories continued, but they were changed in the sixteenth through eighteenth centuries.  

These new interpretations of the Arthur legend had the basic outline of Monmouth’s version of events: Arthur was a king of Britain who was a hero and a warrior. Thomas Malory wrote Le Morte d’Arthur (‘The Death of King Arthur’) in 1465, which signaled a change in the story and a change in society. Aside from being one of the first books printed in England, it was about the golden age of knighthood dying. Changing the images and narrative surrounding Arthur once again. Henry VIII, who took the throne in 1509, took the image of King Arthur and the idealized age of knighthood to heart and even had the Winchester round table of Edward III painted over so that he was on top, imaging himself as the new Arthur. Times were changing and the story was being reinterpreted.

Richard Blackmore wrote two King Arthur epics, Prince Arthur in 1695 and King Arthur in 1697, but the story was being used during this time as an allegory for the political struggles during this period. Tom Thumb was also used in this way, Henry Fielding’s plays, for example, had an Arthurian setting but Arthur was comedic rather than the romance character that had emerged in the late Middle Ages. In the early nineteenth century, a renewed interest the Arthurian legend took place. 

La mort d'Arthur, James Archer (1823–1904), Manchester. From https://artuk.org. 

The renewed interest was due to the romanticism, Gothic Revival, and medievalism that had developed. Chivalry, an ideal code of conduct that was a large part of the medieval romances, was also a part of the medieval Arthurian romances. In the early part of the nineteenth century Malory’s Le Morte d’Arthur was reprinted. Alfred Tennyson rewrote the King Arthur story for the Victorian era in Idylls of the King. In this work Arthur was the ideal of manhood but failed due to the weakness of being human. The ideal of manhood was the Victorian ideal, changing the Arthurian story to fit a new time. This generated even more interest in the Arthurian tale and there were further editions and other writers who wrote their own Arthurian tales. The popularity of King Arthur continued into the twentieth century.

There was a comic strip featuring Arthur that started in 1937, Prince Valiant, along with numerous novels such as Roger Lancelyn Green’s King Arthur and His Knights of the Round Table, in 1953 and T. H. White’s The Once and Future King in 1958. Marrion Zimmer Bradley wrote The Mists of Avalon in 1982, which reimagined the story from a feminist perspective. Other tales have included values like equality and democracy, values that would have been foreign to the writers in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. In addition to the novels, as technology developed, the Arthurian legend was brought into new media.

Illustration from page 306 of The Boy's King Arthur: the death of Arthur and Mordred – 'Then the king ... ran towards Sir Mordred, crying, "Traitor, now is thy death day come."' From https://commons.wikimedia.org.

Disney adapted one of the stories from the first half of the twentieth century, T. H. White’s The Sword in the Stone into their movie of the same name. In 1975 Monty Python and the Holy Grail came out, in the 1990s there was a miniseries that aired on television called Merlin, and in 2004 there was another movie called King Arthur, demonstrating the enduring popularity of Arthurian legends. This year, another movi

e, King Arthur: Legend of the Sword, has been released. This movie, like all the others, reflects the values of our times rather than the medieval values that Arthur had first been endowed with. There is still something that captivates people about Arthur and allows for a reinterpretation to reflect society today, whatever it is, it connects our past with our present, allowing us to feel good about where we came from. 

King Arthur’s statue at Tintagel. From http://www.independent.co.uk.

Further Reading

For further reading I highly recommend any of the literature I discussed along with watching the movies, and TV shows mentioned. My specialty is medieval warrior culture in twelfth to fourteenth century France and England, so I can only speak for that era in terms of history. For those interested in the medieval Arthur and his values I recommended the following books (along with medieval literature) that deal with society and violence: R. W. Barber’s The Reign of Chivalry, John France’s Western Warfare in the Age of the Crusades, Richard W. Kaeuper’s Chivalry and Violence in Medieval Europe, and Maurice Keen’s Chivalry.

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Samantha Knepper lives in San Diego and can be reached at SamanthaLKnepper@gmail.com, http://medievalknightsandmore.com, and on Twitter @Slknepper. She received her MA in History from Norwich University and her capstone looked at the idolization of heroes from the past in twelfth to fourteenth-century France and England. She loves discussing all things medieval and hopes to learn how to joust this year.  

Berengaria of Navarre

Today I have a guest blog post for you from Daniel Fernández de Lis. Daniel has an interest in medieval English history, particularly the Plantagenets. You can find his own blog at https://curiosidadesdelahistoriablog.com/, and he has started to translate a few posts from Spanish to English here. You can find Daniel on Twitter @FdezLisDaniel or via the account for his blog @littlebitofhist.

Welcome to the Medieval World, Daniel!

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Berengaria of Navarre

1. Introduction

Berengaria (or Berenguela) of Navarre, Queen of England is a peculiar case in history. Always in the shadow of her charismatic husband, Richard de Lionheart, in most of historical books she receives no more than a few lines, just to point out that she was the only English queen not to set foot on English soil, and that she produced no heir to the throne (arising speculations about the sexual inclinations of Richard).

A more complex study of Berengaria is not easy, due to the scarce sources about the years before her marriage. She was the daughter of King Sancho VI el Sabio (the Wise) of Navarre, and sister of King Sancho VII el Fuerte (the Strong), one of the leading figures of a paramount victory of the Christian kings of Spain against the Muslims in the Battle of Las Navas de Tolosa (1212). All we know about her birthdate is that she was between twenty one and twenty six years old when she married Richard in 1191.

In those years, Richard was the golden boy of European royalty. King of England, Duke of Normandy, Count of Anjou, Duke of Aquitaine and Count of Poitou, he added to this impressive collection of titles a well-earned prestige as a warrior and military leader. He was also good looking, tall and well built, and a renowned minstrel in several European courts. And he was about to set sail to the Holy Land to recover Jerusalem from the hands of Saladin. So, what caused this shining star of the European bridal market to engage himself to the unknown daughter of the king of a tiny kingdom in the Iberian Peninsula?

Richard had been engaged since he was a boy with Alice (or Aelis), sister of King Philippe of France. However, this marriage never took place. After the agreement, Alice was handed over to Richard's father, Henry II. Rumors spread fast: despite not being more than a child, Henry had seduced Alice; some gossips suggested that she even gave birth to a child. No matter if this was true or false, Richard did not intend to marry the young French princess under these circumstances. Nevertheless, the breach of the agreement was a difficult question, because Alice dowry included strategic lands like the Vexin.

Henry II committed himself in his last years in arbitrations between the kingdoms of the Iberian Peninsula. And both the father and the brother of Berengaria had interests at the other side of the Pyrenees; so it is possible that they met Richard while he was ruling Poitou. Although several sources remark that Richard knew and fell in love with Berengaria on a trip to Pamplona (as a minstrel or a as a pilgrim heading to Santiago de Compostela), there is no evidence that this trip took place. The only source, the Estoire de la Guerre Sainte, written by a companion of Richard in the crusade by the name of Ambroise, said that the King loved her a lot and had desired her since he was Count of Poitou. That sentence suggests that he knew her before being crowned King of England in 1189, because it didn't mention this title, but instead the one of Count of Poitou. It is true that Ambroise is not a very reliable source, because his opus is an exaggerated tale of Richard´s feats, but in this point Ambroise has no need to idealize or lie to encourage the King; nothing will come out of his reputation regarding whether he did or did not meet Berengaria before the wedding.

There is no evidence either that Richard knew Sancho VII; the similar characteristics and military prestige of both the English and the Spanish monarch make it possible that they both knew each other. Some sources point out that the engagement between Richard and Berengaria was agreed in 1185. According to these sources, in 1185 Richard met Alfonso II of Aragón in Gascony, and Alfonso sought Richard's help in some conflict with Sancho VII, which that could mean that the Lionheart had some kind of influence in the King of Navarra. And precisely this same year, Sancho granted several lands to his sister Berengaria. That was, according to these sources, an indication of Berengaria's new status as bride of Richard. 

2. Queen of England

What we know for sure is that in 1190, while Richard was making the preparations to sail to the Holy Land, his mother, Eleanor of Aquitaine, travelled to Navarre to take care of Berengaria and accompany her to his son and to their wedding. Those who considered Eleanor as the main promoter of the marriage mark that with this movement she was after a number of goals: to grant an heir to the throne before Richard engaged himself in a dangerous adventure that could cost him his life; her wish to move Richard away from his peculiar friendship with Phillippe of France and find a wife outside the environment of the French King; as maybe Richard himself had told her about his attraction towards Berengaria.

For others, like John Guillingham, the engagement was Richard's idea. According to Guillingham, 1190 was a year of great military and diplomatic activity in Gascony and there was a meeting between Richard and Sancho at La Reole that well could be the conclusion of the arrangements that begun in 1185. For Sancho VII the engagement was a great diplomatic achievement: it consolidated his position at the other side of the Pyrenees and allowed him to focus on his problems in the Peninsula with his neighbors of Castile and Aragon.

As we said, Eleanor traveled to Pamplona in September 1190, picked up Berengaria, and together they departed in a toilsome trip across the Pyrenees and the Alpes, through Lombardy, Pisa, Rome and Naples and finally arriving at Sicily. Philippe of France departed before they arrived; obviously he had not wished to meet either Eleanor (first wife of his father Louis VII) or Berengaria (Richard broke the engagement with his sister Alice because of the Spanish princess). The chronicles described Berengaria as wise, noble, brave, instructed and beautiful.

The couple set sail from Sicily to the Holy Land, where the marriage should take place. They didn't embark in the same ship, and Eleanor was replaced by his daughter Joan as Berengaria's companion. But the vessel where the two women traveled was hit by a storm and they had to seek refuge in Cyprus. Richard arrived at the island when the governor of the island tried to request a ransom for the women, set them free and decided to marry Berengaria there and then. The marriage took place in Limassol, on 12 May 1191.

Regarding the question of Berengaria not being pregnant before Richard was captured in his return from the crusade, there are obviously no records about the consummation of the marriage, but when the couple set sail to the Holy Land they departed in different vessels. When they arrived at Outremer, Berengaria took no part in the military campaign of her husband and traveled from one Christian fortress to another. Fifteen days after the crusaders conquered Acre, on 6 July 1191, Berengaria reunited there with Richard. But his conditions were far than suitable to the marital obligations: he was sick and feeble, confronted with Philippe of France and other Christian leaders and taking tough decisions, like the slaughter of two thousand Muslim captives.

A month later Berengaria arrived at Acre, Richard left the place and headed to Jerusalem, leaving her behind. There is no record mentioning if they slept together or not, but Berengaria was not pregnant. In September, Richard conquered Jafa and the next month Berengaria joined him there, where they stayed for six months, although Richard spent most of this time in campaign against Saladin. Again there is no mention about the couple’s marital relations, and again Berengaria was not pregnant.

The whereabouts of Richard after the signing of a truce with Saladin in 1192 are well known: he was captured by Leopold of Austria and held captive by the Emperor Henry VI, and was released in February 1194.

And as for Berengaria, she traveled from the Holy Land with Joan, reached Cyprus and Naples and arrived in Rome in December 1192. She stayed there for six months, joining forces with her mother in law in trying to make the Pope persuade the Emperor to set Richard free. In June 1193, Berengaria and Joan, escorted by Alfonso of Aragon and Raymond of Toulouse, moved to Poitou. Despite being Queen of England and despite the situation of the King, Berengaria did not travel to England, but stayed in Poitou during Richard's captivity.

It is true that the situation was not easy, neither in England nor in Poitou. In England, John Lackland was plotting to grasp his brother’s crown and Eleanor, while trying to stop his younger son, was heavily taxing the English people to pay the ransom and set Richard free. In Poitou, Berengaria faced the Aquitaine nobility, traditionally independent and reluctant to obey the orders of their dukes. They were not easily submitted by Henry II, but on the other hand they were willing to take advantage of this new situation.

When Richard was released, he quickly returned to England to reassert his power; he arranged a new ceremony of coronation in Winchester. Eleanor was with him in the coronation, but Berengaria was not. It is difficult to elucidate if this was a sign of previous problems between the couple or simply was a matter of lack of time (Richard needed the ceremony to be hastily performed and Berengaria was in France). It is even possible that Richard thought that there was not need of a dangerous crossing of the Channel, especially since he himself has intention to travel to France as soon as possible. The question is that Berengaria did not accompany Richard in his new coronation.

Richard only stayed in England for three weeks after his coronation. Then he headed to France, never to return to England. He spent the remaining five years fighting Philippe in France; his campaigns are widely documented, but unfortunately these chronicles said nothing about Berengaria and her whereabouts (as usual, medieval queens were invisible, except to write down her marriages and the birth of royal children).

When we say that Richard spent his final five years fighting Philippe, we don’t mean that he was in the battlefield each and every day. Wars in the Middle Ages were a limited affair – both in time and in space. There were a few clashes between the enemy armies during spring and summer, followed by long truces to allow the soldiers to go home and harvest the crops and then take shelter during the winter. That means that if Richard and Berengaria didn’t produce an heir during this last five years, it was not because he was always in a tent in the battlefield or setting siege or being besieged by the French army.

Just as an example, Richard spent Christmas in 1194 in Rouen, and Berengaria was not with him. This year his father died and she was mourning him in Anjou, most likely in Beaufort Castle, where she presumably set her residence because she was also there when Richard died.

There is a famous fact, quoted by Roger of Howeden in 1195. It is always related with Richard’s sexual conditions, but it has his significance also in connection with Berengaria. A hermit addressed Richard, calling him a sinner and reminding him of the destruction of Sodoma. The King then accepted he penitence, received his wife (he has not been with her for a long time), and he joined her so they were one flesh. We don’t know for sure if this is true, but what we do know is that, again, Berengaria was not pregnant.

There is no reference to the activities of Berengaria in the last years of Richard. She must be present in the wedding of Joan, Richard’s sister, at Poitiers in 1196. But in those years Richard was dedicated to the project of building the formidable Chateau Gaillard, and there is no record of Berengaria being there with him, not even when the construction of the fortress was finished.

When Richard was fatally wounded in Chalus-Chabrol, he called by his side his mother Eleanor and the knight William Marshal, not his wife. This could be another sign of the lack of affection between the couple, although it could be argued that by calling on Berengaria (she was never present in the battlefield) this could cause speculation about the seriousness of the wound. Walter de Guiseborough, who wrote in the fourteenth century, stated that the physicians forbade the King, due to the deepness of his wound, to embrace and even to see his wife. But other sources claimed that the wound did not prevent Richard to engage with several women in his bed.

3. Humblest Former Queen of the English and Lady of Le Mans 

After Richard's death, bishop Hugh of Lincoln, who was about to join the King, decided to go to Beaufort Castle to see Berengaria. He found her bereaved and with her heart broken. After Richard was buried, his widow headed to Fontevraud and played an important role in the engagement between her sister Blanca and Theobald of Champagne. The wedding took place in Chartres on 1 July 1199 and Berengaria acted as witness.

In the months that followed, both the new King of England, John I, and Eleanor of Aquitaine showed no concern at all for Berengaria. She had to take refuge in her sister's court in Champagne. Pope Innocent III, who always acted in favor of the widow queen, described her situation as ‘a beggar, poor and humiliated’.

Had Berengaria gave birth to an heir for Richard, her role as a widow would have stayed linked to the center of power as a regent, or at least in charge of his education. But as she did not have a boy, her only two choices were a new marriage or a retreat in an abbey or a monastery (that didn't necessarily involve taking vows as a nun).

The situation was not easy for Berengaria due to the tensions between England and France. Philippe was trying to recover the possessions that the Plantagenets had inherited or conquered in France. John I, even if he was concerned about his sister-in-law’s welfare (which he wasn't), had his own problems because he was losing all of the continental Plantagenet empire. That meant that every castle or town where Berengaria decided to live was at risk of being sieged or taken by the French. Berengaria traveled from one place to another (Beaufort, Chinon, Fontevraud, Champagne) and finally in 1204 established her residence in Le Mans; she lived in this town for the rest of her life.

Berengaria reached an agreement with Philippe of France, She gave up the places that she inherited as Richard's widow (Falaise, Domfront y Bonneville), recognizing him as overlord. In exchange she received the city of Le Mans and one thousand sterling marks. For the rest of her life, Berengaria didn't use the titles of Duchess of Normandy or Countess of Anjou. Instead, she always signed her writs as ‘humblest former Queen of the English’. Nevertheless, she was later known as Lady of Le Mans.

Financially, Berengaria was almost in dire straits. She never married again and John didn't fulfil the dowry promised to her when she married Richard. They signed a document in the year 1200 where John granted her one thousand marks a year, but despite several reclamations and even the intervention of the Pope on behalf of Berengaria, the King delayed this payment for many years. Only in September 1215, after John sent a letter to Berengaria warning her about the confidentiality of the negotiations between them, they signed a new document where John agreed to pay her two thousand marks plus the amount he already owed her.

Knowing John, it came as no surprise when, the following year, he wrote to Berengaria saying that he couldn't pay his debts because he was bankrupted due to the costs of the war in France. John even said that he was sure Berengaria must understand his reasons. Years of fighting, humiliation and the personal intervention of the Pope came to nothing when John died this same year.

Finally, in 1218, and after the mediation on her behalf of the new Pope Honorius III, Henry III of England fulfilled the promises that his father John didn't and paid Berengaria four thousand five hundred marks (over five years).

In Le Mans, where she spent the last twenty six years of her life, Berengaria is remembered by her generous contributions to the churches and abbeys of the city. As one author put it, she left a ‘persistent fragrance of charity’. She was the benefactor of the Church of Saint Pierre; this church, even before the arrival of the queen, had a lot of clashes with the cathedral town hall regarding tax payments and fines for slow payers. Berengaria strongly vouched for the church's rights before the Pope and even left the city for a time when the cathedral town hall lifted an interdict against the Church of Saint Pierre. She retired to lands she had acquired with Richard in the village of Thorée.

When she returned to Le Mans, the citizens cheered her all the way home. Berengaria was very popular because of her charities and donations to all kinds of institutions dedicated to help the poor and sick (including the cathedral). It must be said, however, that part of the money she donated was earned by acquiring at low price property from Jews of the city who had been forced to convert to Christianity and sell their properties below their value.

We do not know much of her personal life during these years. It is possible that she planned to return to Navarre, because Henry III signed passports for her and her messengers to travel to her homeland, but there is no evidence that she traveled home. She kept in touch with her sister Blanca, who was regent in Champagne on behalf of her son Theobald.

The situation around her was now quite different in just a few years. Philippe of France was dead, as was his son Louis VIII. The new king, Louis IX (later St Louis) was advised by his mother, Blanca of Castile, who was Berengaria's niece. Her situation improved with her new overlords, who helped her with her most beloved project: the foundation of a Cistercian abbey called Notre Dame de la Piété-Dieu.

Louis IX granted her the domain where the abbey was built, although she had to contribute with a large amount of money of her own to solve a dispute regarding the property of the sandlot and to buy adjacent lands. She chose the Order of Cistercians because of their links with Navarre and with her husband Richard. The construction was hastily concluded and the monks occupied the abbey on May 1230. The abbey seal represents a lady who has in her left hand a cross crowned with a dove under several fleurs de lis. She was surrounded by the words: ‘Countess of the Normans and the Angevins’ and ‘Berengaria, by the grace of God Queen of the English’.

Only a few months later, on December 1230, Berengaria of Navarre died in Le Mans. She was buried in the abbey she founded. But during the Hundred Years War the abbey was burnt to the ground. It was rebuilt years later, and after the French Revolution went to private owners. The Germans seized it during the Second World War, and in the 1960s it passed to public property again before being rebuilt.

It is believed that her tomb has been plundered several times since the fourteenth century, and the statue of Berengaria that presided over the monument was transferred to the Cathedral of Le Mans in 1821. In 1960, the remains of a woman were found under the floor of the abbey’s hall. There was a huge discussion whether or not it was Berengaria. The University of Caen made some examinations and afterwards most of the experts considered that the remains were indeed those of Berengaria. Now the effigy and the tomb with the remains are located in the new hall of the abbey where everybody can pay a visit.

Source

Ann Trindade, Berengaria. In search of Richard the Lionheart´s Queen.

Book Review: Defending the City of God, by Sharan Newman

Defending the City of God: A Medieval Queen, The First Crusades, and the Quest for Peace in Jerusalem

By Sharan Newman

Palgrave Macmillan, 2014
ISBN: 978-1137278654
Format: Hardcover; eBook

After the reconquest of Jerusalem in 1099 AD, the surviving crusaders had two choices: either return to Europe, or create a home in the Holy Land. A large number chose to stay and forge a new life in one of the newly established Crusader States. This book, written by Sharan Newman, focuses on these people, and in particular, the lives of the children that they raised there.  

Newman has chosen Queen Melisende of Jerusalem to represent the children of the first crusaders who were born and raised in the East. The queen’s parents were:  Morfia, an Eastern Christian and member of the Armenian nobility; and Baldwin of Le Bourq, a French crusader who settled in the Holy Land and was given the title of Count of Edessa, before eventually being elected King of Jerusalem in 1118. Newman frequently emphasises this to the reader throughout the text. She also highlights the fact that Melisende was born and raised in the Holy Land; it’s a good point that provides a fresh perspective, and something that can easily be forgotten when historians write of the ‘Franks’ in the Crusader States.

The lives of Melisende and her sisters are the backbone of this book, and the queen’s lifespan c.1105-61 AD provides a natural time frame. The chapters progress roughly chronologically, with a few deviations when necessary. They are divided according to significant events in the Latin States, or personal ones related to the lives of Melisende and her sisters. They also touch upon the impact of these events on the lives of the local population during this period. As a result of this the narrative is unsurprisingly required to flit from place to place, or between events. Inevitably this does hinder the flow of the book somewhat, and can make it a little confusing at times. However, Newman holds things together well by writing very clearly, and makes a confusing subject for those new to it less so as a result.

Chapter One sets the scene with a discussion chiefly of the first crusaders and those who settled afterwards, and an outline of recent events in the area. I thought it was excellent that Newman pointed out that there had been countless wars in the region between many different peoples; the crusaders were just another overlord in a long succession. She writes: ‘To the shepherds, farmers, and their families life didn't change much. There was a time of tumult, punctuated by terror, then a new master who wanted the same taxes.’ This touches upon recent lines of thought, but a footnote or comment upon other works was rather missed. Nonetheless, it was very encouraging to see it discussed as it is important in understanding the dynamics of the newly formed Latin States. The second chapter spends a good proportion discussing Melisende’s mother, Morfia. Very little has been written of her before, so this well-researched section makes particularly interesting reading. The following few chapters proceed with a narrative of Baldwin II’s role in political events between the states, and the constant struggle at the time to defend their borders. Throughout, Newman comments upon the daily lives of people living in Jerusalem in particular, and how the continuous struggles impacted upon them.

From Chapter Ten onwards the focus of the narrative shifts from Melisende’s parents to the soon-to-be queen, and her sisters. The future arrangement for Baldwin and Morfia’s four daughters (Melisende, Hodierna, Alice, and Yvette) are discussed, and with this comes the decision of Fulk V of Anjou for Melisende’s husband. An insightful contextual background of Fulk is provided, along with an account of the lengthy marriage discussions between him and Baldwin II. Throughout the following few chapters Newman discusses key events connected to Alice, and the rebellion and subsequent murder of Hugh of Jaffa, and how this impacted upon the dynamics between Fulk and Melisende. She rightly places a constant emphasis upon Melisende’s right to rule; the royal bloodline was through her and not her husband.

During the final three chapters the text shifts focus once more, this time to relations between the queen and her firstborn son Baldwin (III). Fulk had died unexpectedly in a hunting accident leaving Melisende with two sons, both of whom were under the age deemed fit to rule (15). Upon Baldwin II’s death, Melisende, her husband Fulk, and their son Baldwin were all named joint heirs to the throne. Therefore when Fulk died, technically Melisende and Baldwin III were equal rulers in the eyes of the law; with Melisende acting foremost due to Baldwin being under age. Newman comes at this situation with a refreshing argument. She frequently stresses Melisende’s right to rule once more, and reasons that the later power struggle between the queen and her son was more to do with his lack of apparent military ability, and therefore a concern for her kingdom, than a desire to cling on to power. The latter is something that has been argued with vigour by Hans E. Mayer in his article ‘Studies in the History of Queen Melisende of Jerusalem’.  Newman makes good use of both charter evidence and the chronicles (particularly William of Tyre), to make a convincing counter-argument to Mayer.

Newman uses a good mixture of the limited available sources, including Islamic accounts of events in addition to the much used Latin/French and Greek ones. I found it a slight shame that the final chapter dealt with a period much longer than the rest (1150-61). In my opinion, this was the period in Melisende’s life that was most relevant to one of the central proposed themes of the book; the suggestion that Melisende’s actions were based upon a belief that her son was not yet ready to rule alone. In addition to this, Newman wrote that she believed negative portrayals of Melisende were a result of what has been written about her by historians, and not by her contemporaries. The negative qualities written about her have been largely based upon her actions during the period of the final chapter, and so it might have been more satisfying if Newman had spent more time addressing events such as the following in greater detail: the civil war in the Kingdom of Jerusalem; and the arguable side-lining of Baldwin III through her second son Amalric’s inclusion in the charters at this time, and his appointment as Count of Jaffa. Despite this the book is very thorough in its detail and is written in a casual manner that is easy to read. Newman frequently raises minor points that really paint a vivid picture of the time in the reader’s mind; little details that humanise the people she is writing about. For example, when commenting upon the fall of Edessa she reminds the reader that this was Melisende’s childhood home. Whilst some of these details are merely speculative, some do have a sound basis and they provide good food for thought.

Overall, this is a thoroughly researched and clearly written book, and a much-needed recent contribution to the secondary works on Queen Melisende of Jerusalem.  It provides a refreshing perspective on the internal and external troubles of the Latin States in the early twelfth century, by considering how these struggles impacted upon its residents. A general reader with an interest in this period would find the book extremely insightful.

Fontevraud Abbey

Hello everyone! On my way from Poitiers to Paris I decided to detour and stay overnight in Saumur, then catch the bus from there to Fontevraud Abbey (for anyone planning on doing this, the bus departs from the Saumur train station bus/coach stops. It's called agglobus ligne 1B and runs 2-3 times per day in the Summer both ways). Saumur itself looks like a lovely town and has its own chateaux, but unfortunately I've not had the time to explore that too.

The main reason I came was to visit Fontevraud Abbey ... and it was more than worth it! It was absolutely beautiful. Walking around, even though there were plenty of tourists about, it still had an air of calm about the place. 

The site was founded in 1101 by Robert d'Arbrissel with an aim of creating an idealised religious community; somewhere that men, women, the wealthy, the poor, nobles, or outcasts, could come together in a community with a unified dedication to God. 

It's perhaps best known now however, for housing the effigies of Eleanor of Aquitaine, her son Richard the Lionheart, and second husband Henry II of England.  It is nestled in a peaceful nook of the Loire valley in France at a meeting point of both Eleanor and Henry's lands. Both had connections with Fontevraud during their lives. Henry's aunt was the abbey's second abbess (Matilda of Anjou), and Eleanor retired there during the final years of her life and eventually took vows to become a nun. 

Here are some photographs of this gorgeous place:

The cobbled pathway to the main entrance 

The entrance

Some decorative features 

Eleanor of Aquitaine and Henry II of England

Richard the Lionheart and Isabella of Angoulême (wife of King John of England)

The remains of a fresco of Raymond VII, Count of Toulouse (grandson to Eleanor and Henry)

This wonderful section used to be the kitchens

Pembroke Castle

Hi again! I went to visit Pembroke castle in September for my birthday, and thought I would share a few pictures of it here.

I stayed by the coast in Tenby, which is a gorgeous little town with fantastic surviving medieval walls that I think date to the 13C. The picture to the left shows a section of them.

Pembroke is a lovely little place, it is easy to imagine the castle being an overwhelming sight and dominant feature of the medieval town. As you walk up the main street the castle begins to come into view (as seen in the picture to the right). Arguably one of the greatest Earls of Pembroke was William Marshal (named Earl in 1199 by King John). His banner of a red lion against a yellow and green background was proudly displayed near the front entrance. I thought this was a particularly nice touch.

The original timber castle would have been built after the Norman conquest in the late 11th - early 12thC. However the site itself has a long history. Below  the castle is a cavern called The Wogan, which would have been a shelter for cave dwellers during the Stone Age. It can be accessed in the Great Hall. The original castle was constructed by Roger de Montgomery, a cousin of William the Conqueror. Later in 1138 the earldom of Pembroke was created for Gilbert Fitz Gilbert de Clare, a loyal supporter of King Stephen of England. Gilbert was given the nickname 'Strongbow'. He died in 1148 and the earldom passed on to his son Richard, also nicknamed Strongbow. Richard is probably most well known for conquering Ireland.

William Marshal gained the earldom through marriage to Richard Strongbow's daughter Isabel de Clare. It was from this time that major reconstruction work began on the castle in stone. Work began with this beautiful round keep. This is the largest and one of the earliest towers of this design in the country. The stone steps are a later Tudor addition. Originally the keep would have been entered on the first floor by a set of timber steps.

 

William's sons continued work on the castle after his death in 1219. The Inner Ward was rebuilt in stone. It is also likely the large outer ward was laid out at this time too, and would have replaced an area of the town. This was rebuilt in stone later on by the new lord of the castle William de Valence, a rather unpopular figure at the time. Gradually, bit by bit, Pembroke became the mighty castle that survives today. 

Here are some more pictures:

View of Pembroke River

Northgate Tower

Stairway and door leading to Barbican Tower

Where the chapel once was

Western Hall, added between 1219 and 1245. This could have been a retiring room for the ladies of the castle.

Arches in the Norman Hall or Old Hall. This section of the castle most likely dates to the time of Richard Strongbow (1150-70). However at a later date the old timber hall was remodelled in stone, which itself has been reworked a lot over time.

The Great Hall. This was added during the 13C and had two levels. The area on the ground floor would have been used as kitchens, and the first floor would have been the main hall. This can be seen in the architecture too - the arches on the first floor are far more grand than those on the ground floor.

Detail of one of the Early English Gothic style arches in the Great Hall.