Conflict and Violence in Medieval Italy 568-1154 9789048536207

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Conflict and Violence in Medieval Italy 568-1154
 9789048536207

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Conflict and Violence in Medieval Italy 568-1154

Italy in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages The enduring culture of Italy has sustained and transformed human life and experience throughout its long history. Undoubtedly the transformations of the peninsula in the Late Antique and Early Medieval periods are redolent of change and challenge for societies and individuals. This series aims to bridge the gap between Anglophone and Italian scholarship, and more broadly to make works of Italian scholars better known throughout Europe. The series aims to present the best high quality research on the Italian peninsula and the Central Mediterranean in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages. It covers the period from the end of the Western Roman Empire to the Ottonians in Italy encompassing Ostrogothic, Lombard and Carolingian Italy. An important aim of this series is to encourage cross-disciplinarity in research associated not only with history, but also archaeology, art history, religious studies and all cognate disciplines. In publishing scholarship from the Anglophone world and from Italy and beyond the series will encourage and deepen knowledge of the central Mediterranean in this fascinating formative period. Series editors Dr Christopher Heath, Manchester Metropolitan University Dr Edoardo Manarini, Università di Torino Editorial Board Ross Balzaretti, University of Nottingham François Bougard, Institut de recherche et d’histoire des textes/Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, Paris Clemens Gantner, Austrian Academy of Sciences Tiziana Lazzari, Università di Bologna Edward Schoolman, University of Nevada, Reno

Conflict and Violence in Medieval Italy 568-1154

Edited by Christopher Heath and Robert Houghton

Amsterdam University Press

Cover illustration: The assassination of Alboin. Illustration by Lodovico Pogliaghi, published in Francesco Bertolini, Storia d’Italia: Medio evo (Milan: Fratelli Treves Editori, 1892). Cover design: Coördesign, Leiden Lay-out: Crius Group, Hulshout isbn 978 94 6298 517 9 e-isbn 978 90 4853 620 7 doi 10.5117/9789462985179 nur 684 © All authors / Amsterdam University Press B.V., Amsterdam 2022 All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the written permission of both the copyright owner and the author of the book.



Table of Contents

Abbreviations 7 Preface 9 1 Introduction

11

2 Morbidity and Murder

63

Discordant Minds and Hostile Nations Christopher Heath and Robert Houghton

Lombard Kingship’s Violent Uncertainties 568-774 Christopher Heath

3 Insurgency and Counterinsurgency in Lombard Italy (c600-700) 87 Guido M. Berndt

4 Troubled Times

117

5 ‘Nec patiaris populum Domini ab illis divinitus fulminandis Agarenis discerpi’

149

6 Formosus and the ‘Synod of the Corpse’

185

7 Sex, Denigration and Violence

205

8 ‘Italy and her [German] Invaders’

243

Narrating Conquest and Defiance between Charlemagne and Bernard (774-818) Francesco Borri

Handling ‘Saracen’ Violence in Ninth-Century Southern Italy Kordula Wolf

Tenth Century Rome in History and Memory David Barritt

A Representation of Political Competition between Two Aristocratic Families in Ninth Century Italy Edoardo Manarini

Otto III’s and Frederick Barbarossa’s Early Tours of Italy – Pomp, Generosity and Ferocity Penelope Nash

9 ‘I Predict a Riot’

265

10 The Strange Case of Deusdedit and Pandulf

299

What Were the Parmense Rebelling Against in 1037? Robert Houghton

Two Accounts of Honorius II’s Election Enrico Veneziani

Afterword 325 Ross Balzaretti

Index 337

Abbreviations AB CISAM CCSL CDCaj CDCav CDL CMC

CSBC CV DBI EHR EME Erch.

FSI Ioh. VIII epp.

LP

Annales de Saint-Bertin, Félix Grat, Jeanne Vielliard and Suzanne Clémencet (eds.) (Paris: Klincksieck, 1964). Centro italiano di studi sull’alto medioevo Corpus Christianorum Series Latina (Turnhout, 1952-). Codex diplomaticus Cajetanus (2 vols.) (Montecassino: Typis Archicoenobii Montis Casini, 1887-1891). Codex diplomaticus Cavensis (8 vols), Michaele Morcaldi, Mauro Schiani, Sylvano De Stefano (eds.) (Napoli: Piazzi, 1873-1888). Codice Diplomatico Longobardo. Chronica Monasterii Casinensis / Die Chronik von Montecassino, Harmut Hoffmann (ed.) (Hannover: Hahnsche Buchhandlung, 1980) (MGH: Scriptores, vol. 34). Chronica Sancti Benedicti Casinensis, Georg Waitz (ed.), in MGH SrL (Hannover: Hahnsche Buchhandlung, 1878), pp. 468-488. Chronicon Vulturnense del monaco Giovanni, Vincenzo Federici (ed.) (3 vols.) (Roma: Tipografia del Senato, 1925-1938) (FSI, vols. 58-60). Dizionario biografico degli Italiani (Roma, 1960-). English Historical Review Early Medieval Europe Erchemperti Ystoriola Longobardorum Beneventum degentium / Erchemperto, Piccola Storia dei Longobardi di Benevento: Introduzione, edizione critica, traduzione, note e commento, Luigi Andrea Berto (ed.) (Napoli: Liguori Editore, 2013). Fonti per la Storia d’Italia (Istituto storico per il medio evo) (1887-). Iohannis VIII. papae epistolae (Registrum Iohannis VIII papae), Fragmenta registri Iohannis VIII. papae, Erich Caspar (ed.) in MGH:Epistolae VII Karolini Aevi V (Berlin: Weidmann, 1928), pp. 1-312. Liber Pontificalis / Le Liber Pontificalis. Texte, introduction et commentaire (3 vols.) Vols I and II,

8 ABBREVIATIONS

MGH MGH AA MGH Capit. MGH DD MGH Epi. MGH LL MGH SrG MGH SrL MGH SrM MGH SS ÖAW QFIAB PL PLRE RI

TRHS

Louis Duchesne (ed.); Vol III, Cyrille Vogel (ed.) (Paris: De Boccard 1955-1957). Monumenta Germaniae Historica Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Auctores Antiquissimi (15 vols.) (Berlin 1877-1919). Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Capitularia, legum sectio II Capitularia Regum Francorum, A. Boretius and V. Krause (eds.) (2 vols.) (Hannover, 1883-97). Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Diplomata Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Epistulae Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Leges Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Scriptores rerum Germanicarum in usum scholarum separatim editi (63 vols.) (Hannover, 1871-1987). Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Scriptores rerum Langobardicarum et Italicarum saec. VI-IX, G.Waitz (ed.) (Hannover, 1878). Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Scriptores rerum Merovingicarum Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Scriptores in folio (30 vols.) (Hannover, 1824-1924). Österreichische Akademie für Wissenschaften Quellen und Forschungen aus italienischen Archiven und Bibliotheken Patrologiae Cursus Completus: Series Latina, J.P. Migne (221 vols.) (Paris 1841-64). John R. Martindale, The Prosopography of the Later Roman Empire, vol. III (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992). Die Regesten des Kaiserreiches unter den Karolingern 751-918 (987), vol. 4: Papstregesten 800-911, part 3: 872-882, Veronika Unger et alii (eds.) (Wien: Böhlau, 2013) (Johann Friedrich Böhmer, Regesta Imperii, vol. I,4,3). Transactions of the Royal Historical Society

Preface The papers published in this volume were originally presented at the International Medieval Congress in a surprisingly hot July in Leeds in 2016. The theme of the two sessions held on the Wednesday morning of the congress was ‘Murder and Mayhem: Disorder and Violence in Italy, 568-1154’. Seven of the contributions presented for the first time on that day are seen here in considerably revised form. The editors also sought and acquired additional papers from Guido Berndt, Kordula Wolf and David Barritt. The nine essays collated here represent ongoing research and work into the mechanisms and mechanics of the socio-cultural worlds of Italy from the advent of the Lombards in c.568 up to the ascendancies of the Normans in Sicily and the Staufen emperors in the Kingdom of Italy through the prism offered by violence, disorder and discontent. As we indicate in the Introduction which follows, and which considers the essays themselves and the historiographical landscapes, this volume is not a ‘grammar’ of violence, and in most respects, it is not the violence per se that holds interest, but rather the methods by which Medieval Italian societies coped, contained and continued despite that violence. Since 2016, the essays have been refined, amended and re-amended. It is to the eternal credit of the contributors, who submitted their work on time and to schedule, that they patiently endured the lacuna between presentation, preparation and production with such equanimity as the editors strove to bring forward the complete manuscript. In this respect the volume rests upon a cumulative value where, whilst all the contributions consider issues in particular contexts, the accumulated aspects of the issues tackled reveal both the fluidity and the inventiveness of Italian societies as they grappled with the impact of violence on the ground. Our thanks then must go to the contributors here in the f irst place; secondly, to Professor Balzaretti who in the midst of considerable responsibilities as Head of History at the University of Nottingham completed the Afterword; thirdly, to the Commissioning Editor at Amsterdam University Press, Dr Erin Dailey whose gentle but effective management of the project brought the end-product to its’ conclusion; and to Dr Vicki Blud who has efficiently assisted the editors in the final stage of production in the midst of a pandemic that shows no sign of dissipation. Christopher Heath Robert Houghton June 2021

1 Introduction Discordant Minds and Hostile Nations Christopher Heath and Robert Houghton In his Études sur l’histoire des principautés lombardes de l’Italie méridionale et de leurs rapports avec l’empire franc, René Poupardin observed that the Lombard Mezzogiorno of the early Middle Ages encapsulated ‘un récit de lutte intestines aussi stérile qu’obscures’.1 A concentration on the dismal and often convoluted picture painted by monastic chroniclers, would prompt a belief that ‘these rough and violent times’ do no merit serious study. Yet analysis of the processes, problems and potentialities that both conflict and violence created, allows an engagement with fundamental issues that affected early medieval Italy. Yet, one may adopt a viewpoint that sees in the apparent violence and conflict of this period an opportunity to understand how individuals and societies grappled with and resolved the issues they faced and withstood.2 Conflict and violence were vital forces in the formation of polities, and the management of such tells us more about the underlying processes of societal formation and cohesion, instead of being a mere grammar of violence. This book is concerned with understanding the vital forces at work on the ground by identifying how tensions between conflict and stasis were worked out through the witness of a variety of source material – textual in all formats, both normative and narrative, and where relevant archaeological. It is not, however, concerned with what might be called the mechanics of 1 René Poupardin, Études sur l’histoire des principautés lombardes de l’Italie méridionale et de leurs rapports avec l’empire franc (Paris: Honore Champion, 1907), p. v. 2 See for instance, Barbara Kreutz, Before the Normans: Southern Italy in the Ninth and Tenth Centuries (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1991), pp. xxiii-xxv. For useful discussion, see Kordula Wolf and Klaus Herbers ‘(Re-) Thinking Early Medieval Southern Italy as a Border Region’, in Kordula Wolf and Klaus Hebers (eds.), Southern Italy as Contact Area and Border Region during the Early Middle Ages: Religious-Cultural Heterogeneity and Competing Powers in Local, Transregional and Universal Dimensions (Böhlau: Wien, 2018), pp. 9-20.

Heath, C. and R. Houghton (eds.), Conflict and Violence in Medieval Italy 568-1154. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press 2022 doi: 10.5117/9789462985179_ch01

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violence, in other words violence in and of itself, but rather in the impact of this violence on societies and elites. In short, did such activity prompt significant, systemic and substantive change? How does violence shape Italian society in this period? What were the short- and long-term consequences of such violent activity? The ten contributions in this volume seek to interrogate, at specific points chronologically in the trajectory of early medieval Italy, the experience, the impact and the containment or management of social, political, and religious violence. It should not be assumed, however, that there is any teleological inclination in this volume, to suggest that the early Middle Ages in Italy were any more or less violent than the periods that preceded or that followed. This would be an undertaking of doubtful empirical value, let alone one which could be demonstrated in any objective sense.3 Of course, the association of the early Middle Ages with conflict and violence has a long pedigree. The narratives of this transformational period from the commentators of the eighteenth-century onwards contrast a supposedly tranquil and peaceful period with that of one shattered by the unwelcome irruptions of outsiders apparently only concerned with destruction and plunder. 4 In the processes, on the ground, the cumulative geo-political result in Europe was the end of one over-arching political structure with its replacement by a variety of locally focussed regional entities. Recently, historians have argued over whether the Western Roman Empire succumbed from its own internal shortcomings and contradictions or whether it was pushed into a thousand ends by the attentions of mathematically indeterminate but no doubt superior ‘hordes’ of barbarians.5 A 3 Wolf Liebeschuetz, ‘Violence in the Barbarian Successor Kingdoms’ in H.A. Drake (ed.), Violence in Late Antiquity (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2006), pp. 38-46. See also the comments of Paul Fouracre, ‘Attitudes to Violence in Seventh- and Eighth-century Francia’ in Guy Halsall (ed.), Violence and Society in the Early Medieval West (Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 1998), pp. 60-1. On quantification of violence (associated with war) and the difficulties for interpretation this causes, see Justine Firnhaber-Baker, Violence and the State in Languedoc 1250-1400 (Cambridge: CUP, 2014), pp. 17-20 4 For the development of responses to the period, see Ian Wood, The Modern Origins of the Early Middle Ages (Oxford: OUP, 2013), pp. 1-18 and pp. 52-73. Essays on Gibbon’s responses are also illustrative, see Rosamond McKitterick and Roland Quinault (eds.), Edward Gibbon and Empire (Cambridge: CUP, 1997), pp. 12-33 and pp. 137-61; Francois Furet, ‘Civilisation and Barbarism in Gibbon’s History’, Daedalus 105:3 (1976), pp. 209-216; E. Badian and Pierre Ducrey, Gibbon et Rome à la lumière de l’historiographie moderne: dix exposés suivis de discussions, (Genève: Droz, 1977); G. Giarrizzo, Edward Gibbon e la cultura europea del settecento (Napoli: Istituto italiano per gli studi storici, 1954). 5 Such imagery has a lengthy hold on the imagination. Gibbon, for instance remarked that ‘armies of unknown barbarians issuing from the frozen regions of the North (…) established their

Introduction

13

beguiling symmetry arises between those who favoured the latter impulse as an explanation of structural change and the notion that the early Middle Ages was the inheritor and the continuator of a chaotic and violent politicosocial landscape. In social and economic terms, the apparent result of these changes were considerable and apparent reductions in both societal complexity and economic specialisation were evident.6 An alternative reading is possible. On the other hand, considerable effort has been made to seek out and identify continuities between and across the centuries of Late Antiquity. In this context, it even becomes possible to consider whether to all practical intents the Western Roman Empire stopped, or if it instead inexorably withered away into irrelevance to subsequently be remodelled on more modest bases. Here one thinks of the Ostrogothic kingdom of Theoderic the Great (493-526) as an exemplar of this reconstitution; at one stage the extent of his kingdom nearly encompassed the whole of the western Mediterranean.7 The reality, so far as one can reduce these processes to generalisations, was that the situation on the ground was somewhere between these two positions.8 Violence and conflict were inextricably linked with these transformational processes. This volume engages with societal violence to attain an effective interpretative balance that will permit historians to make sense of the inheritance of Late Antiquity, and the subsequent re-engineering of medieval societies which sought to manage the challenges of discordant minds and victorious reign over the fairest provinces of Europe and Asia’, J. B. Bury (ed.), Edward Gibbon: the History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire (London: Methuen, 1897-1901), (III), p. 415. See the essays in Thomas F.X. Noble (ed.), From Roman Provinces to Medieval Kingdoms: Rewriting Histories (London: Routledge, 2006). 6 Both Peters, Drew and Harper furnish pithy and helpful summaries of the processes at work: Kyle Harper, Slavery in the Late Roman World 275-425 (Cambridge: CUP, 2015), pp. 500-2; Katherine Fischer Drew, The Lombards Laws (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1973), pp. 4-6; and, Edward Peters, ‘Foreword’ in Drew, The Lombard Laws, pp. v-ix. One measure that Ward-Perkins uses is the management of urban public buildings, see Bryan Ward Perkins, From Classical Antiquity to the Middle Ages Urban Public Building in Northern and Central Italy, AD 300-850 (Oxford: OUP, 1984). 7 Guy Halsall, Barbarian Migrations and the Roman West 376-568 (Cambridge: CUP, 2007); Peter Heather, The Fall of Rome: a New History of Rome and the Barbarians (Oxford: OUP, 2007); and Bryan Ward-Perkins, The Fall of Rome and the End of Civilisation (Oxford: OUP, 2005). For Ostrogothic Italy, see Jonathan J. Arnold, M. Shane Bjornlie and Kristina Sessa (eds.), A Companion to Ostrogothic Italy (Leiden: Brill, 2016), and Jonathan J. Arnold, ‘Ostrogothic Provinces: Administration and Ideology’ in the same volume, pp. 73-97. 8 Walter Pohl, ‘Social Cohesion, Breaks, and Transformations in Italy 535-600’ in Ross Balzaretti, Julia Barrow and Patricia Skinner (eds.), Italy and Early Medieval Europe (Oxford: OUP, 2018), pp. 20-1.

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hostile nations, through the prism that the Italian experience offers. Slotting Italy into a binary narrative of the early Middle Ages, in the same way as that of Europe writ large also fails to address or provide adequate light on the complexity of the legacy of Late Antiquity. The fundamental inheritance for the Italian peninsula was more than either a kaleidoscope of unmitigated instability and visceral, non-directive and unadulterated violence or a seamless and felicitous tranquillity. The lengthy period of focus in this volume from the Lombard period (proper) (i.e. 568-774) to the rule of the Salian and Staufen Emperors and Kings of Italy (1027-1125 and 1128-1254 respectively) encompasses varied political and socio-economic landscapes; throughout, the persistence of violence in various contexts is noticeably prevalent. Our longer focus allows commentators and readers to cut across traditional periodisations, and to identify key commonalities through and across the lengthier chronological timeframe. One example of this useful cross-periodisation are the contrasts between the Lombard period and the Carolingian period that follows it, and then the so-called National Kingdom (888-962).9 One can then perceive why, given the violent imprint upon Italian history, one commentator has described Italy as ‘the enduring culture’ which has been transformed by and survived cathartic change caused by both its own inhabitants and by outsiders.10 Historians, and the contributors in this volume, can enunciate a nuanced picture; in terms of both how Italians managed the potentiality of violence; and also how those at the sharp end, both as individuals and in groups, reconstituted a societal equilibrium that could prosper, often with a new implicit grammar of socio-political norms and standards. In this introduction, we shall not tread the well-trodden path of endeavouring to prove the actuality of violence. Instead, the purpose of this introduction is, in conjunction with the second section which sets out the historiographical footprint, to tackle three key issues. First, we address issues with the sources at our disposal; secondly, we set out the definitional continuum of conflict and violence; before we conclude the first section with commentary on specific aspects of violence in the Italian peninsula, in particular judicial violence, violent activity in urban contexts and religious violence. We should point out, at this point, that whilst there is not a specific contribution that foregrounds the issues of gender and violence in this volume, that all the 9 See the chapters by Heath, Berndt, Borri and Manarini in this volume. 10 Jonathan Charles White, Italy: The Enduring Culture (London: Continuum, 2001). Gilmour in his appraisal of Italian history suggests that rather than a blessing, the geographical position of Italy qualified it as ‘one of the most easily and frequently invaded places in the world’. David Gilmour, The Pursuit of Italy: A History of a Land, its Regions and their Peoples (London: Allen Lane, 2012), p. 8.

Introduction

15

ten contributions herein touch upon the relationships between violence and gendered action (see for instance Manarini’s chapter) and thereby, show the direct need for further layered engagement and research in this area which can build on the studies of Skinner, Balzaretti and many others in this regard.11 One example from the Historia Langobardorum demonstrates how these issues intersect with the concerns of this volume, for it demonstrates the chameleonic nature of violence in this period which crosses definitional boundaries, as we shall see. This is the unpalatable report of the treatment of the wife and the daughters of the dux of Friuli by the victorious Avar Qaghan as reported by Paul the Deacon (c.735-96). During an invasion of the Avars into Friuli, Paul tells us that Romilda, the wife of Gisulf I contrived to betray the city of Forum Iulii (modern Cividale di Friuli) due to her desire for the Avar leader. The Qaghan promised marriage but once he was in control of the city, ordered Romilda to be raped and then impaled. The daughters avoided a similar fate by placing ‘the flesh of raw chickens’ under their breasts so that the meat putrefied and the odour that developed put off the Avars from further mistreatment of the women. Paul evidently uses the story as a salutary moral on the evils of (feminine) lust.12 The violence depicted intersects with several categories of violence, i.e. that between outsiders and Italians; that between political agents; that between men and women; and that between competing social-cultural entities. This volume does not intend to present the final definitive word on this and other inter-linked issues but rather seeks to encourage and develop ongoing research activity which connects with the contributions presented. The footprint of the sources is a significant concern of all the contributions here. Historians must of course deal with the paradox of their sources – being both at the mercy of the content, and carrying the risk of crafting extrapolated arguments that do not represent a ‘true’ and measured reality. 11 Patricia Skinner, Studying Gender in Medieval Europe: Historical Approaches (London: Palgrave, 2018); Patricia Skinner, Women in Medieval Italian Society 500-1200 (Harlow: Longman, 2001); Ross Balzaretti, ‘These are things that men do, not women’: The Social Regulation of Female Violence in Langobard Italy’ in Guy Halsall (ed.), Violence and Society in the Early Medieval West (Woodbridge: Boydell and Brewer, 1998), pp. 175-192; Julius Kirschner (ed.), Women of the Medieval World: New Perspectives on the Past (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1985), Holly S. Hurlburt, ‘Women, Gender and Rulership in Medieval Italy’, History Compass 4 (2006), pp. 528-35; Kate Cooper and Jamie Wood (eds.), Social Control in Late Antiquity: The Violence of Small Worlds (Cambridge: CUP, 2020) all furnish useful perspectives on these issues. See the chapters by Manarini and Wolf in this volume for further discussion. 12 William Dudley Foulke, History of the Langobards (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania: 1907), pp. 180-6 and Lidia Capo, Paolo Diacono: Storia dei Longobardi (Vincenza, Lorenzo Valla, 1992), pp. 212-7.

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Source criticism and what may be termed the ‘rhetorical patterning’ of the sources is a particularly vibrant issue for discussion of both conflict and violence.13 One short contrast will suffice to demonstrate this. If one considers Paul the Deacon’s appraisal of the ten years of the Lombard interregnum (i.e. 574-84) with that of the rule of Authari (584-90) one can discern a deliberate rhetorical contrast sketched by Paul.14 In the inter-regnum, we are told that ‘many of the noble Romans were killed […] the priests killed, the cities overthrown…’ (‘sacerdotibus interfectis, civitatibus subrutis’). Yet in the time of Authari ‘there was no violence (‘nulla erat violentia’), no ambuscades were laid, no one constrained another unjustly, no one took spoils, there were no thefts, no robberies, everyone proceeded whither he pleased, safe and without fear’ (‘unusquisque quo libebat secures sine timore pergabat’).15 It is more than improbable that this passage reflects the reality on the ground, and more so when one then recalls that Paul writes from a distance of two centuries.16 The reality in terms of violence is harder to discern, not least because of the fundamental reliance we still have on the HL as a key narrative for the Lombard kingdom.17 Each of the contributions in this volume have cause to engage with the evidential foundations of 13 We owe this phrase ‘rhetorical patterning of the sources’ to one of the anonymous reviewers of the work. This is one of the concerns that links all the chapters in this collection. 14 Foulke, History of the Langobards, pp. 86-93 and 114-7 and Lidia Capo, Paolo Diacono, pp. 114-7 and 144-7. 15 Foulke, History of the Langobards, pp. 86-93 and 114-7 and Lidia Capo, Paolo Diacono: Storia dei Longobardi, pp. 114-7 and 144-7. For discussion, see Christopher Heath, The Narrative Worlds of Paul the Deacon: Between Empires and Identities in Lombard Italy (Amsterdam: AUP, 2017), pp. 171-7. On the inter-regnum see Andreas Fischer, ‘Money for Nothing? Franks, Byzantines and Lombards in the Sixth and Seventh Centuries in Stefan Esders, Yaniv Fox, Yitzhak hen and Laury Sarti (eds.), East and West in the Early Middle Ages: The Merovingian Kingdoms in Mediterranean Perspective (Cambridge: CUP, 2019), pp. 108-26; and S. Dick, ‘Longobardi per annos decem regem non habentes sub ducibus fuerunt: Formen und Entwicklung der Herrschaftsorganisation bei den Langobarden. Eine Skizze’ in W. Pohl and P. Erhart (eds.), Die Langobarden: Herrschaft und Identität (Wien: OAW, 2005), pp. 335-43. 16 One may contrast this passage with the rather laconic entries in more contemporaneous sources from this period such as the Continuation of Prosper, John of Biclar and Marius of Avenches or the later letters of Gregory the Great (590-604) which do not bear out the idea that this was a period of tranquillity. Foulke notes that ‘the golden age is not borne out by the facts’. See Foulke, History of the Langobards, p. 117 who follows Pabst (i.e. Heinrich Pabst, ‘Geschichte des langobardischen Herzogthums’ in Forschungen zur Deutschen Geschichte (Vol. II) (Göttingen: Dieterichschen 1862), p. 425 n. 2). For discussion and contrast between Paul and sources of the late sixth century, see Edoardo Fabbro, Warfare and the Making of Early Medieval Italy (568-652) (London: Routledge, 2020), pp. 67-107. 17 See Patrick Geary, ‘Longobardi in the Sixth Century without Paulus Diaconus’ in Balzaretti et al., Italy and Early Medieval Europe, pp. 50-9.

Introduction

17

their source materials, to be alive to the construction of a narrative, a set of responses and impulses. By understanding and considering the agency of the actors depicted and the matter of their depiction, we can create a more realistic interpretative balance. Even so, commentary requires empirical evidence that points the way to an understanding of the processes at work on the ground and the responses of sources and their writers and compilers to those changes. Clearly, violent activity, conflict and violence were subjects that motivated the production of history because these actions prompted change, necessitated explanation and provided appropriate subject matter for the construction of narratives. At the same time such commentary signalled variances in ‘a’ given perceived normality that was known to both the author and his/her audiences. Given the geographical landscapes of Italy, one episode or set of events did not have concurrent and contemporaneous impact for all parts of the peninsula.18 In the ninth century, for instance, as Kordula Wolf shows in her contribution, we can clearly identify the variant rhythms at work, for example, between the far south-west in modern Calabria and the north-east in Friuli.19 Whilst the kingdom of Italy (proper) was not directly affected by Islamic invaders, it was not a stranger to political violence connected to both indigenes and outsiders. What binds these regions together, however, using a broader temporal focus, were violent activities by ‘invaders’ – for Friuli, the Magyars, and for the Mezzogiorno, ‘Saracen’ raiders, pirates and armies to highlight just one set of protagonists. There is then no single response to all of these processes and events, hence the exploratory and heuristic nature of the contributions assembled here. A common concern of the structural foundations of the sources is also matched by the need to engage with the definitional continuum of conflict and violence. The two terms are not simply synonymous. Whilst conflict may be defined as an ‘argument or disagreement’ that may be protracted, it need not inevitably lead to physical violence. The use of violence may be part of more prolonged oppositions between sets of protagonists but violence, whilst it may be part of a pattern of behaviour or action, is not an activity 18 Notwithstanding Metternich’s observation from 1847 that Italy is ‘une expression géographique’. 19 For Friuli, see Mario Brozzi, Il ducato longobardo del Friuli (Udine: Graffiche Fulvio, 1981); Harald Krahlwinkler, Friaul im Frühmittelalter: Geschichte einer Region vom Ende des Fünften bis zum Ende des zehnten Jahrhunderts (Wien: Böhlau, 1992), and for Calabria, see Ghislaine Noyé, ‘Les premiers siècles de la domination byzantine en Calabre’ in J.M. Martin and Ghislaine Noyé (eds.), Histoire et Culture dans l’Italie Byzantine: acquis et nouvelles recherches (Roma: École Franςaise de Rome, 2001), pp. 445-69.

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that continues in perpetuity. In this sense, if one recalls a shorter definition of conflict as arising when ‘two or more actors pursue incompatible, yet from their individual perspectives, entirely just goals’, we may understand how dispute and conflict may rapidly migrate to the use of violence by a certain ‘interest group’ should such conflict remain in tension.20 In this volume then, we consider conflict and violence rather than conflict or violence.21 Violent activity in historical contexts reveals how protagonists sought to resolve that ‘tension’. Such violence that arose was both multivalent and multi-functional. Whilst we may adopt working definitions of violence such as ‘behaviour involving physical force intended to hurt, damage or kill someone or something’ [the Oxford English Dictionary] or ‘action or words that are intended to hurt people’, these can only scratch the surface of this definitional minefield.22 As a first step, commencing with the contrasts in the nature of violence will be useful. These may be physical, symbolic, sexual or psychological – although it does not necessarily manifest clearly in only one category at one time. We saw this above in the report of the death of Romilda, and it is also discussed in Barritt’s contribution where he unpicks the symbolic violence suffered by the corpse of Pope Formosus; and in Houghton’s chapter which carefully sets out the landscape of the tensions which pitched protagonists into political violence. Secondly, the target(s) of violence, if one deploys a typology of violent action, may include self-directed, interpersonal or collective violence. In this volume, violence is generally something that is done to you, and for specific reasons. It is not sufficient, for instance, to suggest or assume that ‘Saracen’ violence was non-directive and without purpose. Violence undertaken at this time crossed categories and could be political, religious and social, conducted by individuals, or carried out collectively as Wolf shows in her chapter. Thirdly, the arena in which violence occurs should be considered. It may be 20 Naturally, the literature on conflict is extensive. As a starting point see Karl Cordell and Steffan Wolff (eds.). Routledge Handbook of Ethnic Conflict (London: Routledge, 2010), p. 4. The essays in Anthony de Reuck and Julie Knight (eds.), Conflict in Society (London: J & A. Churchill, 1966) are useful. 21 In this way, one may talk of a continuum of conflict that merges with violence. As Brown and Gorecki make clear, conflict may be defined as ‘several kinds of interpersonal or intergroup tension with several modes of managing that tension’. In this way, a conflict may commence as a dispute and then progress to threats, promises, negotiations, ritual and the use of force. The opportunities for variance in the progress of the dispute/conflict are myriad. See Warren C. Brown and Piotr Górecki (eds.), Conflict in Medieval Europe: Changing Perspectives on Society and Culture (Abingdon: Routledge, 2003), p. 1. 22 For discussion of the diff iculties of def inition see Mark Jürgensmeyer, Margo Kitts and Michael Jerryson (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of Religion and Violence (Oxford: OUP, 2015), p. 15.

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undertaken in a public or private context; it may be considered legitimate or illegitimate by either those that conduct the violence or those that experience the impact of the violent activity. The boundaries and definitions of what constitutes private and public spheres will vary and will link into concepts of legitimate and illegitimate violence. Thus, the murder of Alboin in 572 undertaken in the palatium in Verona was doubly illegitimate since it was undertaken covertly, and in the space which was reserved for kings. The opposite, public opposition to kings was no less fraught with risk but this insurgency in a public sphere forms important dimensions in the discussion of both Berndt’s and Houghton’s chapters. Fourthly, the social profile of the actors, protagonists and victims could have a significant impact on the representation of violence. It may be either vertical or horizontal violence – in other words conducted by equals against equals or between socio-economic groups of different status.23 Collective violent action encompasses all these categories of social, economic, political and religious violence. It will be seen that tensions between interpersonal violence and collective violence are amplified by the rationale behind the activities of protagonists and their position in the societal frameworks within which they operate. The complexity of coining a definition that satisfies all these pertinent elements is obvious. It is important at this stage then to both understand and consider the complexities of the socio-political landscapes that medieval Italian society inherited, grappled with and moulded to elicit a grammar of violence. In concert with the section below which considers in greater detail the historiographical footprint, let us briefly look at three areas of key focus with reference to the place of violence in Italian legal and judicial sources; secondly, violence in urban contexts; and thirdly, religious violence. The management [though not the elimination] of violent activity forms a significant part of Lombard law.24 Titles 14 to 143 of the Edictum Rothari are concerned with a rather gruesome catalogue of physical injuries and the tariffs of compensation they attract.25 Forty-six of the clauses carefully calibrate the (theoretical) compensatory sums to be paid dependant upon the part of the victim’s body affected; the gravity of the injury; and the 23 For discussion, see H.A. Drake, Violence in Late Antiquity: Perceptions and Practices (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2006) and Guy Halsall (ed.), Violence and Society in the Early Medieval West (Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 1998). 24 Claudio Azzara and Stefano Gasparri, Le Leggi dei Longobardi: Storia, memoria e diritto di un popolo germanico (Roma: Viella, 2005) and Katherine Fischer Drew, The Lombard Laws (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1973). 25 Azzara & Gasparri, Le Leggi dei Longobardi pp. 18-43 and Fischer Drew, Lombard Laws, pp. 55-75.

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status of both the perpetrator and the victim. Thus, we have clauses that deal with hitting a man on the head;26 or hitting a man on the head causing bone trauma;27 to gouging out eyes;28 cutting off noses or lips;29 and specific remedies for each and every finger, thumb and toe. One might be tempted to perceive that Lombard society was peculiar in its propensity for the physical application of violence, but it should not be imagined that in an early medieval context this catalogue signified that such injuries were commonplace. Whereas the operative law codes were anxious to stifle unrestrained violence and to provide a framework for its restriction, on a juridical level ‘official’ judicial violence was an inheritance of Late Antiquity. As Wickham has noted, ‘judicial violence was normal’ in a ‘Roman world […] habituated to violence and injustice’.30 Those at the lower end of society were more likely to suffer at the hands of the system. Harries in her work on law in Late Antiquity indicates that ‘traitors, murderers, magicians and other criminals were routinely burned alive, the public floggings of slave and free inflicted both pain and social humiliation, judicial torture was extended up the social scale’.31 In theory at least, unrestrained violence even against slaves had its limits. Kyle Harper in his survey of slavery in Late Antiquity quotes from the laws of Constantine the Great (306-37) in which status directly affected an individual’s treatment by the law. A master should, it is said, have his ‘right’ moderately, but a charge of homicide could be brought. If a slave, for instance, was intentionally ‘killed with a stick or a stone or […] if the master inflicts a lethal wound with a spear or orders him hanged by a noose, or by a monstrous order commands him to be thrown to his death or fills him with a mortal poison or has his body torn apart by public punishments’ an intervention 26 Clause 46: Azzara & Gasparri, Le Leggi dei Longobardi pp. 26-7 and Fischer Drew, Lombard Laws, p. 61. 27 Clause 47: Azzara & Gasparri, Le Leggi dei Longobardi pp. 26-7 and Fischer Drew, Lombard Laws, p. 61. 28 Clause 48: Azzara & Gasparri, Le Leggi dei Longobardi pp. 26-7 and Fischer Drew, Lombard Laws, p. 61. 29 Clauses 49 and 50: Azzara & Gasparri, Le Leggi dei Longobardi pp. 26-7 and Fischer Drew, Lombard Laws, p. 62. For contrast see, for instance, title XLVIII of the Liber Constitutionum in Katherine Fischer Drew, The Burgundian Code (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1949), p. 55; and, Ludwig Rudolf de Salis, ‘Leges Burgundionum’ in Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Leges Sectio I Legum Nationum Germanicarum, (Hannover: Impensis Bibliopoli Hahniani, 1892), pp. 79-80 and Alamannic law title LVII in Theodore John Rivers (ed.), Laws of the Alamans and Bavarians (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1977), pp. 85-90, and, Karl Lehmann, ‘Leges Alamannorum’ in Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Leges Tom V Pars I: Legum Nationum Germanicarum, (Hannover: Impensis Bibliopoli Hahniani, 1962), pp. 116-28. 30 Wickham, The Inheritance of Rome, p. 21. 31 Jill Harries, Law and Empire in Late Antiquity, (Cambridge, CUP,) p. 118.

Introduction

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could be envisaged. Further punishments were described in gratuitous detail in the reminder of the law.32 Akin to the situation in Late Antiquity, status not only prompts variance in treatment but also marks variance in the potentiality of violence that different social groups could experience. Such hierarchical impulses remained widespread in Lombard law. A single comparison in Lombard law will be illustrative of this. Should either one individual or an accomplice beat a freeman (unless it is noted the king has commanded it) they would be required to pay half of the wergild as if they had killed him (a far from modest sum), but were one to strike either an aldii or a household slave, one finds that if there are no broken bones a composition of 2 solidi for one blow and 4 solidi for 2 blows should be provided. No further extension of the sum is directed should there be more than 2 blows.33 Clearly, it should not be expected that lower penalties equate with a greater risk of violence, or that the presence of these extensive penalties signify a violent society ipso facto, but they do suggest that normative sources were dealing with what was possible rather than what was exceptional. Violence remained an abiding feature of urban life. The difficulties for historians, particularly for the early period under discussion here, is the effective identification of violence in urban contexts when significant settlements at this time were modest in their physical extent and population level. The two clear exceptions in the first half of this volume’s chronological range were Rome and Ravenna where one can identify activity which may be termed urban violence. In Ravenna, for instance, Agnellus of Ravenna ( fl. 805-46) reported a ‘wicked custom’ which, he said, persisted up to his own time (i.e. the ninth-century). He tells us that: On every Sunday or day of the Apostles, the citizens of Ravenna, not only the illustrious but men of different ages, youths and adolescents, middle-aged and young, of both sexes […] after lunch, go out through the various gates as a body and proceed to fight. They are delirious and insane, for no reason they put each other to death.34 32 Harper, Slavery in the late Roman World, pp. 232-3. 33 Clause 41: Azzara & Gasparri, Le Leggi dei Longobardi pp. 24-7 and Fischer Drew, Lombard Laws, p. 60. 34 Deborah Deliyannis, Agnellus of Ravenna: The Books of Pontiffs of the Church of Ravenna (Washington D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 2004), p. 248; J. M. Pizarro, Writing Ravenna: The Liber Pontificalis of Andreas Agnellus (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1995), pp. 141-58; Tom Brown, ‘Urban Violence in Early Medieval Italy: The Cases of Rome and Ravenna’ in Guy Halsall (ed.), Violence and Society in the Early Medieval West (Woodbridge: Boydell, 1998), pp. 83-5.

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Thereafter Agnellus details one occasion during the pontificate of Damian (692-708) where this conflict escalated out of control. As a recorded episode of ‘urban’ violence outside Rome in the seventh-century, this account has received considerable attention. For Brown, for instance, one of the arresting features of the narrative of Agnellus is that there was an ‘acceptance of violence’ which is ‘almost incidental’. As he remarks, it is tempting to see this as an integral part of everyday urban life. What can we make of this episode? On the one hand, we could see it as custom dressed up into a ritualistic forum to release latent tensions and pressures that engendered a cathartic renewal, or at least a cynical management of these pressures by an elite. Both impulses are redolent and beloved of modern dystopian film depictions that identify violence as a cleansing – even a positive feature of the future. In this view ‘civilisation is born from violence’.35 On the other hand, we may see these reports as references to what are fundamentally more visceral and primitive rhythms that allows us to penetrate beyond elite political violence to social conflicts at more mundane levels. The report of Agnellus reminds us that urban violence could be mediated through and by religious festivities. On a much broader scale, the Early Middle Ages saw, in tandem with the unravelling of the western Roman Empire, a concomitant process of increasing Christianisation of elites and institutions.36 Whilst Christian communities were not immune to the events of their time, it is perhaps curious that even at the end of the fourth century, Ambrose of Milan (c.340-97) could associate with the Roman empire a vision of peace and concord when discussing Psalm XLV 9-10: ‘Come and behold the works of the Lord making wars to cease, even to the end of the Earth.’ He remarked: Indeed, before the Roman Empire had time to spread, not only did the kings of every city war against each other, but the Romans themselves 35 See J.W. Burton, ‘Conflict as a Function of Change’ in Anthony de Reuck and Julie Knight (eds.), Conflict in Society (London: J & A. Churchill, 1966), pp. 370-401; David M. Halperin, John J. Winkler and Froma I. Zeitlin (eds.), Before Sexuality: The Construction of Erotic Experience in the Ancient Greek World (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990), p. 367: ‘fundamental building blocks of the human experience are love, aggression and conflict’. See also, Georg Simmel, ‘The Sociology of Conflict I’, American Journal of Sociology, 9 (1903), pp. 490-515, and discussion in Conrad Leyser, ‘Introduction: Making Early Medieval Societies’ in Kate Cooper and Conrad Leyser (eds.), Making Early Medieval Societies: Conflict and Belonging in the Latin West 300-1200 (Cambridge: CUP, 2016), pp. 6-12. Rural and urban conflict and rebellion is also discussed in Justine Firnhaber-Baker (ed.), The Routledge History Handbook of Medieval Revolt (London: Routledge, 2019). 36 For discussion see Kate Cooper, ‘Property, Power and conflict: re-thinking the Constantinian revolution’ in Cooper & Leyser (eds.), Making Early Medieval Societies, pp. 16-27.

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frequently burst into civil war. It thus happened that weary of civil strife the Roman Empire was handed over to Julius Augustus when intestine warfare ceased. The result was that the apostles could be sent throughout the world at the command of the Lord Jesus […] at the same time as the apostles spread over the earth, the power of the Roman empire followed in the wake of the Church, whilst discordant minds and hostile nations settled down in peace.37

Orosius (fl.375-420), a contemporary of Ambrose could also argue that the new Christian religion was born when ‘there was peace far and wide’, so that the apostles, in his words ‘should have peace and freedom to meet with others and spread their message’.38 It was trickier, however, to stretch this period of felicitous concord beyond the Augustan period and into the fourth and fifth centuries. Indeed, as Orosius concluded his seventh and final book with the observation that he had set down ‘the lusts and punishment of sinful men, the conflicts of our age and the judgements of God’,39 it is clear from a careful reading of his final book that his earlier assertion that ‘the barbarians foreswore their swords and turned to the plough and cherished the remaining Romans as allies of a kind and friends’ is more hopeful than accurate in historical terms.40 Orosius repeatedly depicts both the violence and physical harm that accompanied political change in the western Roman Empire, together with further layers of conflict engendered by religious dispute, dissent and violence. 41 It was not, however, only rulers that were in conflict. One example of pagan and Christian violence concerns the death of three Christian priests in the Val di Non in May 397. 42 In the letters 37 Damian Bracken, ‘Columbanus and the Language of Concord’ in Alexander O’Hara (ed.), Columbanus and the Peoples of Post-Roman Europe (Oxford: OUP, 2018)), p. 34 with references. 38 Andrew Fear (ed.), Orosius: Seven books of History against the Pagans (Liverpool: LUP, 2010), p.262. Orosius claims that the gates of Ianus had been closed three times during the rule of Augustus (the actual total was five). 39 Fear, Orosius, p. 414 (VII: 43). 40 Fear, Orosius, p. 407 (VII: 41). 41 A few examples here: from the time of Valens (VII: 33) ‘battalions of the saints were killed’, Fear, Orosius, p. 381; Caesarea in Mauretania was ‘filled with fire and slaughter’ (VII: 33}, Fear, Orosius, p. 382; improbably, on the other hand, in discussing the conflict between Magnus Maximus and Theodosius I, ‘how in Christian times and under Christian rulers civil wars are waged, when they cannot be avoided’ (VII: 35), Fear, Orosius, p. 389; and finally his discussion of the Battle of the River Frigidus of 394 between the same combatants is equally interesting for his gloss on the outcome since ‘Divine Aid’ had provided ‘such good-will and forgiveness’ that the victory of Theodosius ‘did not produce much slaughter nor victory blood-stained vengeance’ (VII: 35), Fear, Orosius, pp. 391-2. 42 Michele Renee Salzman, ’Rethinking Pagan-Christian Violence’ in Drake, Violence in Late Antiquity, pp. 267-73.

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of Vigilius of Trento (353-405) we are told that these priests were lynched and then burned. Vigilius reports that the three priests were in the Val di Non on an entirely benign mission, but conflict arose between the Pagans who were ‘unwilling to allow the three Christian outsiders to change the local status quo’.43 For our purposes in this introduction, we need not enter into the debates about the veracity of the events depicted but we should simply note the additional potentiality of violence occasioned by religious change and conflict, albeit in a relatively marginal part of Italy. By this time, of course, so far as governmental and institutional assistance was concerned the late Roman state supported the Christian church. This could, however, cause disquiet for Christian thinkers. Augustine is perhaps the best embodiment of this Christian ambivalence towards the state and the violence that the state undertakes. In his Contra Faustum, for instance, Augustine indicates that the ‘real evils of war are love of violence (nocendi cupiditas), revengeful cruelty (ulciscendi crudelitas) fierce and implacable enmity, wild resistance and the lust of power (libido dominandi).’44 But, for Augustine there are legitimate reasons to undertake war and to commit violent acts. In his letter to the count of Africa, Bonifatius (d. 432) in 418, he suggested that ‘violence is appropriate in dealing with rebels who reject peace’.45 Here one should understand ‘appropriate’ as both the authorisation of violence and the conflation of God’s will which permitted the agents of the Roman state to act. 46 Thus Augustine indicates that ‘when war is undertaken in obedience to God […] it must be allowed to be a righteous war, for even the wars which arise from human passion cannot harm the eternal well-being of God’. 47 Legitimate violence was perceived to be an acceptable part of the fabric of life. This obviously begs many questions which returns us to the complex panorama of the experience of violence 43 Salzman, Rethinking Pagan-Christian Violence, p. 269. 44 Philip Schaff (ed.), St Augustine: The Writings against the Manicheans and against the Donatists (Buffalo: Christian Literature Co, 1887), p. 301. For discussion see John Langan, ‘The Elements of St Augustine’s Just War Theory’, Journal of Religious Ethics 12 (1984), pp. 19-38. 45 John Langan, ‘The Elements of St Augustine’s Just War Theory’, Journal of Religious Ethics 12 (1984), p. 26 based on Letter CXXXIX of Augustine: ‘(L)et necessity therefore and not your will slay the enemy who fights against you’. John George Cunningham (ed.), The Letters of St. Augustine (Altenmünster: Jazzybee, 2015), p. 360. 46 As Malegam remarks, ‘Augustine and Jeremiah pray for secular regimes because their peace will be your peace’. On the other hand, Hippolytus of Rome writing some two centuries before Augustine viewed the Roman empire as an ‘engine of war’. See Jehangir Yezidi Malegam, The Sleep of Behemoth: Disputing Peace and Violence in Medieval Europe 1000-1200 (New York: Cornell University, 2013), p. 12 with references. 47 Schaff, St Augustine: The Writings against the Manicheans, p. 301.

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Introduction

and the multivalence of the term in our period with which we commenced this Introduction. Within a century of Ambrose, Augustine and Orosius, both discordant minds and hostile nations had come home to roost in Italy. Whilst it might be a modern inclination to relativise the real violence and harm individuals on the ground experienced in this period, such relativity must be balanced against the witness of the sources. Setting aside the very real issues that arise from taking our sources at face value, one does not need to consult a wide range of materials to identify similar processes at work on the ground in the early Middle Ages. In this sense it is possible to be convinced when reading the letters of Gregory the Great (590-604) which describe the visceral violence of the-end-of-times demonstrated by the Lombards, rather than exercise caution when Gregory engages in his eschatological impulses. 48 Accepting this caution should not necessarily mean that episodes discussed by commentators did not happen and did not have important consequences, but we need to ensure that they do not acquire a disproportionate influence on the overall perception of Italian society and the place of violence within it. In considering the practicalities of violent activity on the ground, this volume determines whether new political landscapes, with altered socio-economic foundations, deployed a new grammar of violence and in such praxis modelled and manifested new forms of societal equilibrium and cohesion. ***

The State of the Field Discussion around violence in early medieval Italy is complex. As outlined above, even at the start of the medieval period Italy housed a substantial variety of social, cultural and political realities. Additional divergence occurred throughout the period. In the north, the kingdom of Italy was drawn into the Carolingian world and remined tied to the kingdoms across the Alps throughout the early tenth century until it became caught in the orbit of the Ottonian, Salian, and Staufen dynasties in Germany. In the south, Byzantine influence lingered well into the central Middle Ages and 48 Pohl, ‘Social Cohesion, Breaks, and Transformations in Italy 535-600’ in Balzaretti et al. (eds.), Italy and Early Medieval Europe, pp. 32-5.

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was joined by the Lombard duchies, the Emirate in Sicily and ultimately the Normans. The centre was caught between these competing influences alongside that of the increasingly autonomous and active Papacy. Further divisions existed at local and regional level as bishops, secular magnates, and the cities asserted their competing political and ideological claims, which were often accompanied by the threat or reality of violence. In addition to this the academic study of medieval Italy is the product of the interaction and synthesis of a range of schools, traditions and approaches drawn from Italy itself, but also from a substantial range of German, French and Anglophone scholars. Scholarship regarding violence in Italy in the early Middle Ages has formed a part of many of these broader trends and study has been undertaken on a substantial array of topics ranging from systems of military organisation, 49 and the construction of fortifications,50 to the etymology of military terms.51 As such, it is very difficult to make any truly universal claims regarding the history and historiography of violence in early medieval Italy beyond the most superficial of sweeping statements. However, the specific circumstances of the region and the broader historiographical traditions surrounding the study of medieval Italy have led to a concentration of scholarship around four key areas: urban violence within the proto-communes and communes; violence because of, or in reaction to, external powers; the 49 Ottorino Bertolini, ‘Ordinamenti militari e struttare sociali dei Longobardi in Italia’, Settimane di studio 15, no. 1 (1968), pp. 429-607; Giovanni Tabacco, ‘Il regno italico nei secoli IX-XI’, in Ordinamenti militari in Occidente nell’alto medioevo, Settimane di studio del Centro italiano di studi sull’alto medioevo 15 (Spoleto, 1968), pp. 763-90; Hagen Keller, ‘Militia. Vasallität und frühes Rittertum im Spiegel oberitalienischer Miles-Belege des 10. und 11. Jahrhunderts’, Quellen und Forschungen aus italienischen Archiven und Bibliotheken 62 (1982), pp. 59-118; Maria Elena Cortese, Signori, castelli, città: l’aristocrazia del territorio fiorentino tra X e XII secolo, Biblioteca storica toscana 53 (Firenze: L. S. Olschki, 2007); Paolo Grillo, Cavalieri e popoli in armi: le istituzioni militari nell’Italia medievale, 1st ed., Quadrante Laterza 142 (Roma: GLF editori Laterza, 2008). 50 Fabio Cusin, ‘Per la Storia del Castello Medioevale’, Rivista Storica Italiana 4 (1939), pp. 491542; R. Morretta, ‘L’apparato difensivo dei signori di Canosa nell’Appennino reggiano’, Atti e memorie, Deputazione di storia patria per le provincie modenesi 4-5 (1965 1964), pp. 489-500; Maria Bertolani del Rio, I Castelli Reggiani (Reggio-Emilia, 1965); Pierre Toubert, Les Structures du Latium médiéval: le Latium méridional et la Sabine du IXe siècle à la fin du XIIe siècle (Rome: Ecole française de Rome, 1973); Giuseppe Caciagli, Il Castello in Italia. Saggio d’interpretazione storica dell’architettura e dell’urbanistica castellana (Firenze: Giorgi e Gambi, 1979); Edward Coleman, ‘Incastellamento on the Po Plain. Cremona and Its Territory in the Tenth Century’, Reading Medieval Studies 17 (1991). pp. 77-102; Tiziana Lazzari, ‘Aziende fortificate, castelli e pievi: le basi patrimoniali dei poteri dei Canossa e le loro giurisdizioni’, in Matilde e il tesoro dei Canossa: tra castelli, monasteri e città, ed. Arturo Calzona (Milano: Silvana, 2008), pp. 95-115. 51 Carlo Battisti, ‘I nomi longobardi delle armi e le loro sopravvivenze nella lingua e nei dialetti italiani’, Settimane di studio 15 (n.d.), pp. 1067-99.

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role of the Church and clergy in instigating and conducting violence; the place of violence within Italian legal and rhetorical sources. This list is far from comprehensive but connects strongly with the broader approaches surrounding the history of Italy in this period. The communal systems of rulership which emerged within many Italian cities over the course of the Middle Ages has been discussed extensively as reflected in a number of detailed historiographical surveys of the subject.52 The vision of medieval Italy – and northern Italy in particular – as a heavily and uniquely urbanised region is almost ubiquitous and has formed the basis for a plethora of volumes addressing individual centres53 and the Italian cities in general.54 This narrative of exceptionalism has some grounding: Italy was undeniably one of the most densely urbanised regions of Europe in the early Middle Ages, this certainly influenced the life and politics of the region, and the widespread appearance of urban communes is a unique phenomenon within this period. Furthermore, the surviving chronicles, charters and other literary sources of this period focus on the cities.55 There have been numerous important and somewhat justified attempts during the last half century to challenge and provide nuance to this narrative, either by highlighting similarities between the social, political and economic structures of Italy and the rest of Western Europe,56 or by emphasising the 52 Giorgio Cracco, ‘Social Structure and Conflict in the Medieval City’, in City States in Classical Antiquity and Medieval Italy, eds. Anthony Molho, Kurt A. Raaflaub, and Julia Emlen (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1991), pp, 302-99; Renato Bordone, ‘La storiograf ia recente sui comuni italiani delle origini’, in Die Frühgeschichte der europäischen Stadt im 11. Jahrhundert, ed. Jörg Jarnut and Peter Johanek, Städteforschung, Bd. 43 (Köln: Böhlau, 1998), pp. 45-61; Edward Coleman, ‘The Italian Communes. Recent Work and Current Trends’, Journal of Medieval History 25 (1999), pp. 373-97. 53 Luigi Bonazzi, Storia Di Perugia: dalle origini al 1860, 2 vols (Perugia, 1875); Andrea Castagnetti, Società e politica a Ferrara dall’età postcarolingia alla signoria estense (sec. X-XIII) (Rome: Pàtron, 1985); Steven Epstein, Genoa and the Genoese, 958-1528 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1996), http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&scope=site&db=nlebk&db= nlabk&AN=24599; Gian Pietro Brogiolo and Sauro Gelichi, La città nell’alto Medioevo italiano: archeologia e storia, Quadrante 93 (Roma: Laterza, 1998). 54 Sergio Bertelli, Il potere oligarchico nella città-stato medievale (Firenze: La Nuova Italia, 1978); Renato Bordone, Città e territorio nell’alto Medioevo. La società astigiana dal dominio dei Franchi all’affermazione comunale (Torino: Biblioteca Storica Subalpina, 1980); Roberto Celli, ‘Il principio del potere populare nella genesi dei comuni italiani’, in Poteri assemblee autonomie: Il lungo cammino verso la sovranità populare: Miscellanea in memoria di Roberto Celli (Udine: Del Bianco, 1989), pp. 41-45. 55 Ottavio Banti, ‘“Civitas” e “comune” nelle fonti italiani dei secoli XI e XII’, in Forme di potere e struttura sociale in Italia nel Medioevo, ed. Gabriella Rosseti (Bologna: Il mulino, 1977), pp. 217-32. 56 Jacques Le Goff, ‘L’Italia fuori d’Italia. L’Italia nello specchio del Medieovo’, Einaudi Storia d’Italia 2 (1974): 1935-2088; Hagen Keller, Adelsherrschaft und städtische Gesellschaft in Oberitalien

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importance and influence of the Italian rural communities within these systems.57 Other authors have moderated this response, acknowledging the similarities between the political systems of Italy and the rest of Europe, but reasserting a strong degree of exceptionalism.58 In general, Italy is seen as distinctively urban, and each of the cities of the region tend to be portrayed as individual and exceptional. There was no single schema for the emergence of the communes and, as Wickham argues, they emerged largely organically.59 This urban focus within the historiography of medieval Italy has naturally extended to the study of violence in some key areas around the emergence of the communes. There is substantial work on revolt and rebellion within urban centres – against kings and emperors, or against local secular or ecclesiastical magnates – whether in the context of expanding communal power or as part of broader political issues.60 This has emerged alongside (9-12. Jahrhundert) (Tübingen: Max Niemeyer Verlag, 1979); Philip Jones, ‘Economia e società nell’Italia medievale: la leggenda della borghesia’, in Dal feudalismo al capitalismo, ed. Ruggiero Romano and Corrado Vivanti, Storia d’Italia, Annali/(coordinatori dell’opera Ruggiero Romano e Corrado Vivanti); 1 (Torino: Einaudi, 1992), pp. 185-372; François Menant, Lombardia feudale: studi sull’aristocrazia padana nei secoli X-XIII, Cultura e storia 4 (Milano: Vita e pensiero, 1992); François Bougard, La justice dans le royaume d’Italie: de la fin du VIIIe siècle au début du XIe siècle, Bibliothèque des écoles françaises d’Athènes et de Rome, fasc. 291 (Rome: Ecole française de Rome, 1995). 57 P. Cammarosano, ‘Città e campagna: rapporti politici ed economici’, in Società e istituzioni dell’ Italia comunale: l’esempio di Perugia (secoli XII-XIV) (Perugia, 1988), pp. 303-49; Giuseppe Sergi, ‘Dinastie e Città Del Regno Italico nel Secolo XI’, in L’evoluzione Delle Città Italiane nell’XI Secolo, ed. Renato Bordone, Jörg Jarnut, and Istituto storico italo-germanico, Annali Dell’Istituto Storico Italo-Germanico 25 (Bologna: Il Mulino, 1988), pp. 151-73; Chris Wickham, The Mountains and the City: The Tuscan Appennines in the Early Middle Ages (Oxford : New York: Clarendon Press ; Oxford University Press, 1988); François Menant, Campagnes lombardes du Moyen Age: l’économie et la société rurales dans la région de Bergame, de Crémone et de Brescia du Xe au XIIIe siècle, Bibliothèque des écoles françaises d’Athènes et de Rome, fasc. 281 (Rome: Ecole française de Rome, 1993). 58 Giovanni Tabacco, ‘Fief et seigneurie dans l’Italie communale, L’évolution d’un thème historiographique’, Le Moyen Age 75 (1969), pp. 5-37, 203-18; Giovanni Tabacco, ‘Vescovi e comuni in Italia’, in I Poteri Temporali dei Vescovi in Italia e in Germania nel Medioevo, ed. Carlo Guido Mor and Heinrich Schmidinger (Bologna: il Mulino, 1979), pp. 253-82; Cracco, ‘Social Structure and Conflict in the Medieval City’. 59 Chris Wickham, Sleepwalking into a New World: The Emergence of Italian City Communes in the Twelfth Century (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2015). 60 Emilio Nasali Rocca, ‘Il patriziato piacentino nella eta del comune e della signoria’, in Scritti storici e giuridici in memoria di Alessandro Visconti (Milan, 1955), pp. 185-306; Pier Andrea Maccarini and Giovanna Borziani, ‘Il Patto tra Matilde di Canossa e il Doge Veneziano Vitale i Michiel nell ambito della politica di Venezia verso il papato e l’impero’, in Studi matildici, Atti e Memorie del II Convegno di Studi matildici (Reggio Emilia, 1-3 maggio 1970) (Modena: Aedes

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a subfield of study into the military obligations of the various elements of urban society tied to the discussion of the socio-political composition of the communes and their leaders but also to the emergence of new systems of ideology and legitimacy of authority.61 The conquest of the contado by urban centres remains a disputed topic of discussion between the traditionalist school of urban dominance over rural magnates62 and the more recent consideration of a quiet reorganisation of dominant families moving their centres of power from the countryside to the city,63 but while these complex and varied changes encompassed economic, political and legal elements, studies of this development are almost inevitably drawn to discuss the recourse to violence at some point. The emergence of the Italian city communes was by no means exclusively or even extensively violent, but the use or threat of force was nevertheless a factor within this phenomenon and has understandably emerged within the historiography. The focus on the city communes is a common thread throughout the studies of medieval Italy and this almost all-encompassing emphasis has created something of a gap in the study of Italy beyond the communes: there is comparatively little work which addresses pre-communal Italy or southern and central Italy. When these periods and regions are discussed, it is almost always as an addendum to the study of external polities. Italy’s position

Muratoriana, 1971), pp. 361-73; Thomas S. Brown, ‘Urban Violence in Early Medieval Italy: The Cases of Rome and Ravenna’, in Violence and Society in the Early Medieval West, ed. Guy Halsall (Rochester: Boydell Press, 1998); Giuliana Albini, ‘Vescovo, comune: il governo della citta tra XI e XIII secolo’, in Il governo del vescovo: chiesa, città, territorio nel Medioevo parmense, ed. Roberto Greci (Parma: Monte Università Parma, 2005), pp. 67-85. 61 Hannelore Zug-Tucci, ‘Il Carroccio nella vita communale italiana’, Quellen und Forschungen aus italienischen Archiven und Bibliotheken 65 (1985), pp. 1-104; Ernst Voltmer, Il carroccio, trans. Giuseppe Albertoni, Biblioteca di cultura storica 205 (Torino: Giulio Einaudi, 1994); Cortese, Signori, castelli, città. 62 Giorgio Chittolini, ‘The Italian City State and Its Territory’, in City States in Classical Antiquity and Medieval Italy, ed. Anthony Molho, Kurt A. Raaflaub, and Julia Emlen (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1991), pp. 589-602; Giorgio Chittolini, ‘A Geography of the “contadi” of Medieval Italy’, in Portraits of Medieval and Renaissance Living: Essays in Memory of David Herlihy, ed. Samuel Kline Cohn and Steven A. Epstein (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1996), pp. 417-38. 63 Giuseppe Galasso, ‘Le città campane nell’alto medioevo’, in Mezzogiorno medievale e moderno, ed. Giuseppe Galasso (Turin, 1965), 63-135; Gino Luzzatto, ‘Città e campagna in Italia nell’età dei comuni’, in Dai servi della gleba agli albori del capitalismo (Bari, 1966), pp. 207-28; Ljubov Kotel’nikova, Mondo contadino e città in Italia dall’xi al xiv secolo (Bologna, 1975); Paolo Brezzi, ‘Le relazioni tra le città ed il contado nei comuni italiani’, in Paesaggi urbani e spirituali dell’uomo medievale (Napoli: Liguori Editore, 1986).

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within the Carolingian world has, with a few exceptions,64 been considered as an afterthought: the historiographical focus normally remains on the North of the Alps, addressing East Francia and West Francia with occasional ventures into Lotharingia and Burgundy.65 Italy’s post-Carolingian rulers were traditionally presented as incompetent, insignificant and constantly beset by foreign invaders,66 and this account remained prevalent into the late twentieth century.67 This narrative has been increasingly challenged by more recent authors who have highlighted continuity of patterns of rule into the post-Carolingian period,68 the evolution of new but effec64 Giuseppe Albertoni, L’Italia Carolingia, 1a ed, Studi Superiori NIS, 347. Le Italie medievali (Roma: NIS, 1997); François Bougard, ‘La cour et le gouvernement de Louis II (840-875)’, in La royauté et les élites dans l’Europe carolingienne: (début IXe siècle aux environs de 920), ed. Régine LeJan, Histoire et littérature régionales 17 (Villeneuve d’Ascq: Centre d’Histoire de l’Europe du Nord-Ouest, 1998), pp. 249-68; Simon MacLean, ‘“After His Death a Great Tribulation Came to Italy…” Dynastic Politics and Aristocratic Factions After the Death of Louis II, c.870-c.890’, in Millennium – Jahrbuch (2007), ed. Wolfram Brandes et al., vol. 4 (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2007), pp. 239-60, https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110192797.239. 65 Emile Amann, L’époque carolingienne, Histoire de l’Eglise depuis les origines jusqu’à nos jours 6 (Paris, 1937); Carlrichard Brühl, Deutschland--Frankreich: die Geburt zweier Völker (Köln: Böhlau, 1990). 66 Albert Dresdner, Kultur-und Sittengeschichte der Italienischen Geistlichkeit im 10. Und 11. Jahrhundert (Breslau, 1890); Augustin Fliche, La Réforme grégorienne: Tome I La formation des idées grégoriennes, vol. 1, 3 vols, Spicilegium Sacrum Lovaniense 6 (Louvain, 1926); Emile Amann and Auguste Dumas, L’eglise au pouvoir des laïques (Paris: Bloud et Gay, 1940); Gina Fasoli, I Re d’Italia (888-962) (Florence: G.C. Sansoni, 1949). 67 Giovanni Tabacco, ‘L’ordinamenti feudale del potere nel pensiero di Heinrich Mitteis’, Annali della Fondazione italiana per la storia amministrativa 1 (1964), pp. 83-113; Gabriella Rosseti, Società e istituzioni nel contado lombardo durante il medioevo: Cologno Monzese, 1: Secolo VIII-X, Archivio della Fondazione Italiana per la Storia Amministrativa 9 (Milan: Giuffré, 1968); Gabriella Rosseti, ‘Formazione e carratteri delle signorie di castello e dei poteri territoriali dei vescovi sulle città nella Langobardia del secolo X’, Aevum 49 (1975), pp. 243-309; Suzanne Fonay Wemple, Atto of Vercelli: Church State and Christian Society in Tenth Century Italy, Temi e Testi 27 (Rome: Edizioni di storia e Letteratura, 1979); Aldo A. Settia, ‘Gli Ungari in Italia e i mutamenti territoriali fra VIII e X secolo’, in Magistra barbaritas: i barbari in Italia, ed. Maria Giovanna Arcamone and Giovanni Pugliese Carratelli, Antica madre 7 (Milano: Garzanti, 1984). 68 Giancarlo Andenna, ‘Grandi patrimoni, funzioni pubbliche e famiglie su di un territorio: Il “comitatus plumbiensis” e i suoi conti dal IX all’XI secolo’, in Formazione e strutture dei ceti dominanti nel medioevo: Marchesi, conti e visconti nel regno italico (secc. ix-xii), Atti del primo convegno di Pisa, 10-11 May 1983, Nuovi Studi Storici 1 (Rome, 1988), pp. 201-27; Roberto Ricci, La Marca Della Liguria Orientale e Gli Obertenghi, 945-1056: Una Storia Complessa e Una Storiografia Problematica, 1. ed, Istituzioni e Società 8 (Spoleto: Fondazione Centro italiano di studi sull’alto Medioevo, 2007); François Bougard, ‘Charles le Chauve, Bérenger, Hugues de Provence: action politique et production documentaire dans les diplômes à destination de l’Italie’, in Zwischen Pragmatik und Performanz: Dimensionen mittelalterlicher Schriftkultur, ed. Christoph Dartmann et al., Utrecht studies in medieval literacy 18 (Turnhout, Belgium:

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tive systems of rule,69 or reassessed the careers of Berengar I,70 and Hugh and Lothar II.71 But in general works, it is still typical to find a depiction of Italy descending into anarchy following the death of Charles the Fat, only to return to a semblance of order with the arrival of the Ottonians in the middle of the tenth century.72 From this point onwards, Italy is again relegated to a historical footnote until the emergence of the communes and is mentioned primarily in the context of German processions.73 In southern Italy a similar narrative plays out through a series of invasions by the Byzantines, Lombards, Arabs, Franks, Germans and Normans, with the area itself often portrayed as a peripheral region until the establishment

Brepols, 2011), pp. 57-83; François Bougard, ‘Le royaume d’Italie (jusqu’aux Ottons), entre l’Empire et les réalités locales’, in De la mer du Nord à la Méditerranée: Francia Media, une région au cœur de l’Europe (c.840-c.1050) ; actes du colloque international (Metz, Luxembourg, Trèves, 8-11 février 2006, ed. Michèle Gaillard, Publications du CLUDEM 25 (Luxembourg: CLUDEM, 2011), pp. 487-510. 69 Igor Santos Salazar, ‘Crisis? What Crisis? Political Articulation and Government in the March of Tuscany through Placita and Diplomas from Guy of Spoleto to Berengar II’, Reti Medievali Journal 17, no. 251-279 (12 September 2016), https://doi.org/10.6092/1593-2214/527. 70 Barbara H. Rosenwein, ‘The Family Politics of Berengar I, King of Italy (888-924)’, Speculum 71, no. 2 (1996), pp. 247-89; Barbara H. Rosenwein, ‘Friends and Family, Politics and Privilege in the Kingship of Berengar I’, in Portraits of Medieval and Renaissance Living: Essays in Memory of David Herlihy, ed. Samuel Kline Cohn and Steven A. Epstein (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1996), pp. 91-106; Barbara H. Rosenwein, Negotiating Space: Power, Restraint, and Privileges of Immunity in Early Medieval Europe (Ithaca, N.Y: Cornell University Press, 1999). 71 Emilio Cristiani, ‘Note sulla feudalità italica negli ultimi anni del regno di Ugo e Lotario’, Studi Medievali 4 (1963), pp. 92-103; Ross Balzaretti, ‘Narratives of Success and Narratives of Failure: Representations of the Career of King Hugh of Italy (c.885-948): Representations of King Hugh of Italy’, Early Medieval Europe 24, no. 2 (May 2016), pp. 185-208, https://doi.org/10.1111/ emed.12140; Giacomo Vignodelli, ‘Berta e Adelaide: la politica di consolidamento del potere regio di Ugo di Arles’, in Il patrimonio delle regine: beni del fisco e politica regia fra IX e X secolo, ed. Tiziana Lazzari, vol. 2, Reti Medievali Rivista 13 (Firenze: Firenze University Press, 2012), pp. 247-94, https://doi.org/10.6092/1593-2214/369; Giacomo Vignodelli, ‘La Competizione per i Beni Fiscali: Ugo Di Arles e Le Aristocrazie Del Regno Italico (926-945)’, in Acquérir, Prélever, Contrôler: Les Ressources En Compétition (400-1100), ed. G. Bührer-Thierry, Vito Loré, and Régine Le Jan, Collection Haut Moyen Âge 25 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2017), pp. 151-69; Robert Houghton, ‘Hugh, Lothar and Berengar: The Balance of Power in Italy 945-950’, Journal of Medieval History 46, no. 1 (2020), pp. 50-76. 72 Gerd Althoff, Otto III, Gestalten Des Mittelalters Und Der Renaissance (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1996), pp. 59-89. 73 Stefan Weinfurter, The Salian Century: Main Currents in an Age of Transition, Middle Ages Series (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1999); Herwig Wolfram, Conrad II, 990-1039: Emperor of Three Kingdoms, trans. Denise Adele Kaiser (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2006).

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of Norman dominance in the second half of the eleventh century.74 This is not to besmirch these works or deny the importance of viewing Italy in the context of the broader world, but it must be underlined that most of the academic material addressing pre-communal Italy does so with a focus outside the region. Several themes relating to violence have emerged within this canon of external domination. The most obvious of these are the studies of these invasions, expeditions, and interventions, sometimes as dedicated pieces, but more frequently as part of broader biographical works.75 Other authors have highlighted the importance of access routes into and across Italy to maintain control of the region,76 and references to strategic military concerns appear as frequent elements of the analysis of charters and exchanges of land. A substantial volume of scholarship has considered the impact of these invasions and expeditions on the social, political and economic landscape of Italy – and the Italian cities in particular.77 There is also a substantial body of work relating to resistance and rebellions in the 74 Rudolf Hiestand, Byzanz und das Regnum Italicum im 10. Jahrhundert (Zürich, 1964); G. A. Loud, ‘The Church, Warfare and Military Obligation in Norman Italy’, Studies in Church History 20 (1983), pp. 31-45. 75 Cinzio Violante, ‘Aspetti della politica italiana di Enrico III prima della sua discesa in Italia (1039-1046)’, Rivista storica italiana 64 (1952), pp. 157-76; Gian Piero Bognetti, ‘Tradizione longobarda epolitica bizantina nelle origini del ducato di Spoleto’, in L’età longobarda, vol. 3 (Milano: Giuffré, 1967), pp. 441-57; Stefano Gasparri, I Duchi Longobardi, Studi Storici dell’Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo 109 (Rome: La Sapienza, 1978); Tilman Struve, ‘Matilde di Toscana-Canossa ed Enrico IV’, in I Poteri dei Canossa, da Reggio Emilia all’Europa: atti del convegno internazionale di studi (Reggio Emilia-Carpineti, 29-31 ottobre 1992), ed. Paolo Golinelli, Il mondo medievale (Bologna: Pàtron, 1994), pp. 421-54. 76 Pietro Vaccari, La Territorialità Come base dell’ordinamento giuridico del contado. Italia Superiore e Media, 2nd ed. (Milan, 1963); Giuseppe Sergi, ‘I poteri dei Canossa: Poteri delegati, poteri feudali, poteri signorili’, in I Poteri dei Canossa, da Reggio Emilia all’Europa: atti del convegno internazionale di studi (Reggio Emilia-Carpineti, 29-31 ottobre 1992), ed. Paolo Golinelli, Il mondo medievale (Bologna: Pàtron, 1994), pp. 29-39; Wilhelm Störmer, ‘Alpenübergänge von Bayern nach Italien. Transitprobleme zwischen Spätantike und Hochmittelalter’, in Bayern und Italien: Politik, Kultur, Kommunikation (8.-15. Jahrhundert): Festschrift für Kurt Reindel zum 75. Geburtstag, ed. Kurt Reindel et al., Zeitschrift für bayerische Landesgeschichte. Beiheft ; Reihe B 18 (München: C.H. Beck, 2001), pp. 37-54. 77 Gina Fasoli, Raoul Manselli, and Giovanni Tabacco, ‘La struttura sociale delle città italiane dal V al XII secolo’, Vorträge und Forschungen 11 (1966), pp. 291-320; Stefano Gasparri, ‘Strutture militari e legami di dipendenza in Italia in età longobarda e carolingia’, Rivista storica italiana 98 (1986), pp. 664-726; Albertoni, L’Italia Carolingia; Stefano Gasparri, ‘Les relations de f idélité dans le royaume d’Italie au IXe siècle’, in La royauté et les élites dans l’Europe carolingienne: (début IXe siècle aux environs de 920), ed. Régine Le Jan, Histoire et littérature régionales 17 (Villeneuve d’Ascq: Centre d’Histoire de l’Europe du Nord-Ouest, 1998), pp. 145-57.

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face of these external interventions, including a substantial and growing volume of material addressing the military role of Matilda of Canossa78 and her family.79 The role of the Church and clergy within the political and social structure of early medieval Italy also forms a key element of the study of this period. The changes in the structure and ideologies within and around the Papal court is naturally of significance to the study of the centre of the peninsula but is also of immediate concern to scholars of northern and southern Italy. Beyond work addressing the changing religious ideologies and rhetoric of the period (see below), discussion has focused on the interactions between popes and the kings, secular magnates, bishops, and cities of these regions.80 The 78 Giuseppe Sissa, ‘L’azione della contessa Matilde al papato nella lotta per le investiture’, Deputazione di storia patria per le antiche provincie modenesi. Atti e memorie Ser. 9 3 (1963), pp. 295-303; Lino Lionello Ghirardini, ‘Il Convegno di Carpineti (1092) e la sua decisiva importanze nella lotta per le investiture’, in Studi matildici, Atti e Memorie del II Convegno di Studi matildici (Reggio Emilia, 1-3 maggio 1970) (Modena: Aedes Muratoriana, 1971), pp. 97-136; Matteo Schenetti, ‘La Vittoria di Matilda di canossa su Arrigo IV’, in Studi matildici, Atti e Memorie del III Convegno di Studi matildici (Reggio Emilia, 7-9 ottobre 1977) (Modena: Aedes Muratoriana, 1978), pp. 235-42; Valerie Eads, ‘The Geography of Power: Matilda of Tuscany and the Strategy of Active Defense’, in Crusaders, Condottieri, and Cannon: Medieval Warfare in Societies around the Mediterranean, ed. Donald J. Kagay and L. J. Andrew Villalon, History of Warfare, v. 13 (Leiden: Brill, 2002), pp. 355-86; David J Hay, ‘Canon Laws Regarding Female Military Commanders up to the Time of Gratian: Some Texts and Their Historical Contexts’, in A Great Effusion of Blood?: Interpreting Medieval Violence, ed. Mark D. Meyerson, Daniel Thiery, and Oren Falk (Toronto : Buffalo: University of Toronto Press, 2004), pp. 287-313; David J Hay, The Military Leadership of Matilda of Canossa, 1046-1115 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2010). 79 Antonio Falce, Bonifacio di Canossa, padre di Matilda (Reggio-Emilia, 1927); Margherita Giuliana Bertolini, ‘Bonifacio, marchese e duca di Toscana’, in Dizionario biografico degli Italiani, ed. Alberto Maria Ghisalberti, vol. 12 (Roma: Istituto della Enciclopedia italiana, 1971), pp. 96-113; Hans Hubert Anton, ‘Bonifaz von Canossa, Markgraf von Tuszien, und die Italienpolitik der frühen Salier’, Historische Zeitschrift 24, no. 3 (June 1972), pp. 529-56; Vito Fumagalli, ‘Mantova al Tempo di Matilde di Canossa’, in Sant’Anselmno, Mantova e la lotta per le Investiture. Atti del Convegno Internazi, ed. Paolo Golinelli, Il mondo medievale (Bologna: Pàtron, 1987), pp. 159-67; Harald Zimmermann, ‘Canossa e il matrimonio di Adelaide’, in Canossa prima di Matilde. Atti del Convegno di Reggio Emilia (Milano: Camunia, 1990), pp. 141-55; Harald Zimmermann, ‘I Signori di Canossa e l’Impero (da Ottone I a Enrico III)’, in I Poteri dei Canossa, da Reggio Emilia all’Europa: atti del convegno internazionale di studi (Reggio Emilia-Carpineti, 29-31 ottobre 1992), ed. Paolo Golinelli, Il mondo medievale (Bologna: Pàtron, 1994), pp. 413-19; Elke Goez, Beatrix von Canossa und Tuszien: eine Untersuchung zur Geschichte des 11. Jahrhunderts (Sigmaringen: Jan Thorbecke Verlag, 1995); Rossella Rinaldi, ‘Da Adalberto Atto a Bonifacio. Note e riflessioni per l’edizione di un Codice Diplomatico Canossano prematildico’, Bullettino dell’Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo e Archivio Muratoriano 101 (1997), pp. 13-91. 80 Girolamo Arnaldi, ‘Papato, archivescovi e vescovi nell’età post-carolingia’, in Vescovi e Diocesi in Italia nel Medioevo Atti del II Convegno di Storia della Chiesa in Italia (Roma, 5-9 Sett. 1961), ed. G. G. Maccarrone, E. Meersseman, and P. Sambin (Padua, 1964), pp. 27-53; H. E. J. Cowdrey,

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interactions of the papacy with external powers, including the Carolingians and the German emperors,81 has also served as a rich vein for research into political and social change in Italy. In particular, the Investiture Contest has received substantial attention for its impact on the role of the northern Italian bishops and coincidence with the appearance of clear evidence for political activity within many Italian cities,82 but also for its concurrence with the firm establishment of the Normans in the south.83 Beyond the papacy, the secular and sacral nature of the Italian bishops and archbishops has been analysed alongside their roles as administrators of royal and imperial lands and within the selection of kings.84 Perhaps most notably (and predictably), the interaction of these bishops and archbishops with the urban communes and proto-communes has formed a central part of the Italian historiographical tradition.85 The Church and the ecclesiastical The Age of Abbot Desiderius: Montecassino, the Papacy, and the Normans in the Eleventh and Early Twelfth Centuries (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1983); Ruggero Benericetti, ‘La cronologia dei papi della seconda metà del secolo XI nelle carte Ravennati e Romagnole’, Archivum Historiae Pontificiae 40 (2002), pp. 37-52. 81 Ottorino Bertolini, ‘I vescovi del “regnum Langobardorum” al tempo dei Carolingi’, in Vescovi e Diocesi in Italia nel Medioevo Atti del II Convegno di Storia della Chiesa in Italia (Roma, 5-9 Sett. 1961), ed. M. Maccarrone et al. (Padua: Editrice Antenore, 1964), pp. 1-26; Heinz Thomas, ‘Gregors VII. imperiale Politik und der Ausbruch seines Streites mit Heinrich IV’, in Festschrift für Eduard Hlawitschka: zum 65. Geburtstag, ed. Karl Rudolf Schnith and Roland Pauler, Münchener Historische Studien 5 (Kallmünz Opf: Lassleben, 1993). 82 Reinhold Schumann, Authority and the Commune, Parma 833-1133 (Parma: Presso La Deputazione Di Storia Patria Per Le Province Parmensi, 1973); Roberto Celli, Pour l’histoire du pouvoir populaire: L’experience des villes-états italiennes (XIe-XIIe siècles) (Louvain, 1980); Maureen C. Miller, The Bishop’s Palace: Architecture and Authority in Medieval Italy, Conjunctions of Religion & Power in the Medieval Past (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2000). 83 Cowdrey, The Age of Abbot Desiderius; Louis I. Hamilton, ‘Desecration and Consecration in Norman Capua, 1062-1122’, in The Haskins Society Journal 14: 2003, ed. Stephen Morillo, NEDNew edition, Studies in Medieval History 14 (Boydell & Brewer, 2005), pp. 137-50, https://doi. org/10.7722/j.ctt6wp8t9.14; G. A Loud, The Latin Church in Norman Italy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008). 84 H. E. J. Cowdrey, ‘Archbishop Aribert of Milan’, History 51 (1966), pp. 1-15; Vito Fumagalli, ‘Il potere civile dei vescovi italiani al tempo di Ottone I’, in I Poteri Temporali dei Vescovi in Italia e in Germania nel Medioevo, ed. Carlo Guido Mor and Heinrich Schmidinger (Bologna: il Mulino, 1979), pp. 77-86; Carlo Guido Mor, ‘Sui poteri civili dei vescovi dal IV al secolo VIII’, in I Poteri Temporali dei Vescovi in Italia e in Germania nel Medioevo, ed. Carlo Guido Mor and Heinrich Schmidinger (Bologna: il Mulino, 1979), pp. 7-33. 85 A. Solmi, ‘Le leggi più antiche del comune di Piacenza’, Archivio storico italiano 73, no. 2 (1915), pp. 3-81; Eugenio Dupré Theseider, ‘Vescovi e città nell’Italia precomunale’, in Vescovi e Diocesi in Italia nel Medioevo Atti del II Convegno di Storia della Chiesa in Italia (Roma, 5-9 Sett. 1961), ed. M. Maccarrone et al. (Padua: Editrice Antenore, 1964), pp. 55-109; Giovanni Cassandro, ‘Il bilancio storiografico’, in Forme di potere e struttura sociale in Italia nel Medioevo, ed. Gabriella Rosseti

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magnates were a central element of early medieval Italian society, politics and economics. This focus on the Church is reflected within work conducted on violence in early medieval Italy. Although the military role of the Italian bishops and other clergy has not been explored to the same extent as that of their counterparts in some other areas of Europe,86 there are nevertheless a number of studies on this varied and changing issue.87 The conflicts within and around the Investiture Contest have recently formed a focus for the study of warfare in Italy,88 and the concurrent emergence of the Paterene movement and its frequently violent attempts to achieve its goals has long been studied in the context of Church reform and the emergence of the communes.89 The (Bologna: Il mulino, 1977), pp. 153-74; Annamaria Ambrosioni, ‘Gli archivescovi di Milano e la nuova coscienza cittadina’, in L’evoluzione delle città italiane nell’XI secolo, ed. Renato Bordone and Jörg Jarnut, Annali dell’Istituto storico italo-germanico 25 (Bologna: Il Mulino, 1988), pp. 193-222; George W. Dameron, Episcopal Power and Florentine Society, 1000-1320, Harvard Historical Studies 107 (Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press, 1991); Maureen C. Miller, The Formation of a Medieval Church: Ecclesiastical Change in Verona, 950-1150 (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1993); Albini, ‘Vescovo, comune’; Roberto Greci, ed., Il governo del vescovo: chiesa, città, territorio nel Medioevo parmense (Parma: Monte Università Parma, 2005). 86 Leopold Auer, ‘Der Kriegsdienst Des Klerus Unter Den Sächsischen Kaisern’, Mitteilungen Des Instituts Für Österreichische Geschichtsforschung 80, no. 1-2 (January 1972), pp. 48-70 https:// doi.org/10.7767/miog.1972.80.12.48; Benjamin Arnold, ‘German Bishops and Their Military Retinues in the Medieval Empire’, German History 7, no. 2 (1989), pp. 161-83; Boris Bigott, Ludwig der Deutsche und die Reichskirche im ostfränkischen Reich (826-876), Historische Studien, Bd. 470 (Husum: Matthiesen Verlag, 2002), pp. 124-35. 87 Pietro Rasi, ‘Exercitus Italicus’ e milizie cittadine nell’alto medioevo (Padua, 1937); Cowdrey, ‘Archbishop Aribert of Milan’; Giancarlo Andenna, ‘Carolingi, vescovi e abati in Italia settentrionale (secolo IX). Riflessioni sul “militare servitum” degli ecclesiastici’, in Le origini della diocesi di Mantova e le sedi episcopali dell’Italia settentrionale, IV-XI secolo, ed. Gian Pietro Brogiolo, Giancarlo Andenna, and Renata Salvarani, Antichità altoadriatiche 63 (Trieste: Editreg, 2006), pp. 3-34; Robert Houghton, ‘Italian Bishops and Warfare during the Investiture Contest: The Case of Parma’, in Between Sword and Prayer: Warfare and Medieval Clergy in Cultural Perspective, eds. Radosław Kotecki, Jacek Maciejewski, and John S. Ott, Explorations in Medieval Culture, volume 3 (Leiden ; Boston: Brill, 2018), pp. 274-302. 88 François Menant, ‘Aspetti Delle Relazioni Feudo-Vassallatiche Nelle Città Lombarde Dell’XI Secolo: L’esempio Cremonese’, in L’evoluzione Delle Città Italiane Nell’XI Secolo, ed. Renato Bordone and Jörg Jarnut, Annali Dell’Istituto Storico Italo-Germanico 25 (Bologna: Il Mulino, 1988), pp. 223-39; Glauco Maria Cantarella, Pasquale II e il suo tempo, Nuovo Medioevo 54 (Napoli: Liguori, 1997), esp. 82-105; Eads, ‘The Geography of Power’; Hay, The Military Leadership of Matilda of Canossa. 89 Cinzio Violante, La Pataria milanese e la riforma ecclesiastica. I. Le premesse (1045-1057) (Rome, 1955); H. E. J. Cowdrey, ‘The Papacy, the Patarenes and the Church of Milan’, Transactions of the Royal Historical Society 18 (1968): 25, pp.25-48; https://doi.org/10.2307/3678954; Hagen Keller, ‘Pataria und Stadtverfassung, Stadtgemeinde und Reform: Mailand im “Investiturstreit”’, in Investiturstreit und Reichsverfassung, ed. Josef Fleckenstein, Vorträge und Forschungen 17

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role of northern Italians in the crusades and other campaigns supported by the Church have received some attention,90 but, understandably, this is usually overshadowed by studies of the more successful Southern Italian Norman crusaders.91 A final key element within the historiography surrounding early medieval Italy is the consideration of law and rhetoric. The common narrative of exceptionalism surrounding medieval Italy incorporates a sub-narrative of the early emergence of complex and nuanced legal thought and rhetoric,92 and this is often presented as a contributing factor in the emergence of the city communes.93 This legal acumen is frequently connected to the construction of complex and involved political rhetoric by the authors of (Sigmaringen: J. Thorbecke, 1973), pp. 321-50; Olaf Zumhagen, Religiöse Konflikte und kommunale Entwicklung: Mailand, Cremona, Piacenza und Florenz zur Zeit der Pataria, Städteforschung 58 (Köln: Böhlau Verlag, 2002). 90 H. E. J. Cowdrey, ‘The Mahdia Campaign of 1087’, English Historical Review 92 (1977), pp. 1-29; Epstein, Genoa and the Genoese; Christopher Marshall, ‘The Crusading Motivation of the Italian City Republics in the Latin East, 1096-1104’, in The Experience of Crusading, ed. Marcus Graham Bull et al. (Cambridge ; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2003), pp. 60-79. 91 Natasha Hodgson, ‘Reinventing Normans as Crusaders?: Ralph of Caen’s Gesta Tancredi’, in Anglo-Norman Studies 30, ed. C. P. Lewis, vol. 30, Proceedings of the Battle Conference 2007 (Boydell & Brewer, 2008), pp. 117-32, https://doi.org/10.7722/j.ctt81wq7.12; Alan V. Murray, ‘The Enemy Within: Bohemond, Byzantium and the Subversion of the First Crusade’, in Crusading and Pilgrimage in the Norman World, ed. Kathryn Hurlock and Paul Oldfield, NED-New edition (Boydell & Brewer, 2015), pp. 31-48, https://doi.org/10.7722/j.ctt13wzt6d.10; Luigi Russo, ‘Bad Crusaders?: The Normans of Southern Italy and the Crusading Movement in the Twelfth Century’, in Anglo-Norman Studies XXXVIII, ed. Elisabeth van Houts, NED-New edition, Proceedings of the Battle Conference 2015 (Boydell & Brewer, 2016), pp. 169-80, https://doi.org/10.7722/j. ctt19x3j5h.16. 92 Antonio Padoa Schioppa, ‘Aspetti della giustiza milanese secolo dal X al XII’, in Milano e il suo territorio in età comunale (XI-XIII secolo): atti dell’XI congresso internazionale di studi sull’alto Medioevo, Milano 26-30 ottobre 1987 (Spoleto: Centro di studi sull’alto medioevo, 1989), pp. 503-49; Dick Harrison, ‘Political Rhetoric and Political Ideology in Lombard Italy’, in Strategies of Distinction: The Construction of Ethnic Communities, 300-800, ed. Walter Pohl and Helmut Reimitz, The Transformation of the Roman World 2 (Leiden ; Boston: Brill, 1998), pp. 241-54; Mario Ascheri, ‘Formes du Droit dans l’Italie Communale: Les Statuts’, Médiévales 39 (Autumn 2000), pp. 137-52; Giovanni Chiodi, ‘Roma e il diritto romano: Consulenze di giudici e strategie di avvocati dal X al XII secolo’, Settimane di studio 49 (2002), pp. 1141-1254; Mario Ascheri, ‘Il Consilium Dei Giuristi Medievali’, in Consilium: teorie e pratiche del consigliare nella cultura medievale, ed. Carla Casagrande, Micrologus’ library 10 (Firenze: Sismel, Ed. del Galluzzo, 2004), pp. 243-58; Marios Costambeys, ‘Disputes and Courts in Lombard and Carolingian Central Italy’, Early Medieval Europe 15 (2007), pp. 265-89. 93 Giovanni Tabacco, ‘Ordinamento pubblico e sviluppo signorile nei secoli centrali del Medioevo’, Bullettino Dell’Istituto Storico Italiano 79 (1968), pp. 37-51; Chris Wickham, ‘Land Disputes and Their Social Framework in Lombard-Carolingian Italy, 700-900’, in The Settlement of Disputes in Early Medieval Europe, ed. Wendy Davies and Paul Fouracre (Cambridge, 1986),

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the narrative sources of early medieval Italy. Paul the Deacon is an early example of this,94 and extensive studies of the use of classical and theological rhetorical techniques within the work of many of the authors of the postCarolingian period have been produced: Liutprand of Cremona is the most prominent and graphic example of this,95 but a number of other chroniclers of this period have been studied for their construction of elaborate and often fanciful rhetoric to further their political and personal goals.96 Towards the end of the eleventh century, the Investiture Contest sharpened this rhetoric and has formed the basis for a substantial range of study.97 pp. 105-24; Chris Wickham, ‘Justice in the Kingdom of Italy in the Eleventh Century’, Settimane Di Studio Del Centro Italiano Di Studi Sull’ Alto Medioevo 44 (1997), pp. 179-250. 94 Donald Bullough, ‘Ethnic History and the Carolingians: An Alternative Reading of Paul the Deacon’s Historia Langobardorum’, in The Inheritance of Historiography, 350-900, ed. Christopher Holdsworth and T.P. Wiseman, 1st ed. (Liverpool University Press, 1986), pp. 85-106, www.jstor. org/stable/j.ctt5vjmgk.12; Walter A. Goffart, ‘Paul the Deacon’s “Gesta Episcoporium Mettensium” and the Early Design of Charlemagne’s Succession’, Traditio 42 (1986), pp. 59-93; Christopher Heath, ‘Hispania et Italia: Paul the Deacon, Isidore, and the Lombards’, in Isidore of Seville and His Reception in the Early Middle Ages, ed. Andrew Fear and Jamie Wood, Transmitting and Transforming Knowledge (Amsterdam University Press, 2016), pp. 159-76, https://doi.org/10.2307/j. ctt1d8hb6s.11; Christopher Heath, ‘Vir Valde Peritus: Paul the Deacon and His Contexts’, in The Narrative Worlds of Paul the Deacon, Between Empires and Identities in Lombard Italy (Amsterdam University Press, 2017), pp. 19-38, https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctt1zkjxs1.6. 95 Germana Gandino, Il vocabolario politico e sociale di Liutprando di Cremona, Nuovi Studi Storici 27 (Roma: Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medioevo, 1995); Ross Balzaretti, ‘Liutprand of Cremona’s Sense of Humour’, in Humour, History and Politics in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages, ed. Guy Halsall (Cambridge ; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2002), pp. 11428; Philippe Buc, ‘Political Rituals and Political Imagination in the Medieval West from the Fourth Century to the Eleventh’, in The Medieval World, ed. Peter Linehan and Janet L Nelson (London; New York: Routledge, 2003), pp. 189-213; Cristina La Rocca, ‘Liutprando da Cremona e il paradigma femminile di dissoluzione dei Carolingi’, in Agire da donna: modelli e pratiche di rappresentazione, secoli VI-X: atti del convegno, Padova, 18-19 febbraio 2005, ed. Cristina La Rocca, Collection Haut Moyen Âge 3 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2007), pp. 291-307. 96 Wemple, Atto of Vercelli; Edoardo Manarini, ‘10th Century Italy through the Voices of Atto of Vercelli and Liutprand of Cremona: True Political Catastrophe or Just a Perception?’, in Studies on Disasters, Catastrophes and the Ends of the World in Sources, ed. Joanna Popielska-Grzybowska, 2013, pp. 195-200; Giacomo Vignodelli, Il Filo a Piombo: Il Perpendiculum Di Attone Di Vercelli e La Storia Politica Del Regno Italico, Prima edizione, Istituzioni e Società 16 (Spoleto: Fondazione Centro italiano di studi sull’alto Medioevo, 2011); Giacomo Vignodelli, ‘Politics, Prophecy and Satire: Atto of Vercelli’s Polipticum Quod Appellatur Perpendiculum: Atto of Vercelli’s Polipticum Quod Appellatur Perpendiculum’, Early Medieval Europe 24, no. 2 (May 2016), pp. 209-35, https:// doi.org/10.1111/emed.12141. 97 I. S. Robinson, Authority and Resistance in the Investiture Contest: The Polemical Literature of the Late Eleventh Century (Manchester: New York: Manchester University Press; Holmes & Meier Publishers, 1978); I. S. Robinson, The Papacy, 1073-1198: Continuity and Innovation, Cambridge Medieval Textbooks (Cambridge ; New York: Cambridge University Press, 1990); Tilman Struve,

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A core element of these explorations of law and rhetoric has been the use of violent incidents and language as a political tool. Liutprand’s work has become a particular focus for the study of violence, warfare and rebellion as a tool of rhetoric,98 but various other works have been examined from this perspective, including Vignodelli’s extensive work on Atto of Vercelli’s Perpendiculum.99 Legal and moral justif ication of violence within Italy during the earlier Middle Ages has also formed a frequent element of recent studies and the emergence of the doctrine of Church directed violence against Christian rivals has a particular relevance within studies of the whole of Italy: in the South against or alongside the Normans, Byzantines and Lombards;100 in the centre against ambitious Roman families and the short lived commune in Rome;101 and in the North against the Emperor and his supporters.102 The development of ‘Le trasformazioni dell’XI secolo alla luce della storiografia del tempo’, in Il secolo XI: una svolta? Atti della XXXII settimana di studio, 10-14 settembre 1990, ed. Cinzio Violante and Johannes Fried, Annali dell’Istituto Storico Italo-Germanico in Trento Quaderno 35 (Bologna: Società Ed. Il Mulino, 1993), pp. 41-72; Arnaud Knaepen, ‘Le recours à l’Antiquité dans les écrits de la Querelle des Investitures’, in L’autorité du passé dans les sociétés médiévales, ed. Jean-Marie Sansterre, Collection de l’Ecole française de Rome 333 (Rome : Bruxelles: Ecole française de Rome ; Institut historique Belge de Rome, 2004), pp. 369-84. 98 Jon N. Sutherland, ‘The Idea of Revenge in Lombard Society in the Eighth and Tenth Centuries: The Cases of Paul the Deacon and Liudprand of Cremona’, Speculum 50, no. 3 (1975), pp. 391-410; Antoni Grabowski, ‘Liudprand of Cremona’s Papa Monstrum : The Image of Pope John XII in the Historia Ottonis’, Early Medieval Europe 23, no. 1 (February 2015), pp. 67-92, https://doi.org/10.1111/ emed.12088. 99 Vignodelli, Il Filo a Piombo; Vignodelli, ‘Politics, Prophecy and Satire’. 100 Michele Fuiano, ‘La battaglia di Civitate (1053)’, Archivio storico pugliese 2 (1949), pp. 124-33; Loud, ‘The Church, Warfare and Military Obligation’; Wilfried Hartmann, ‘Verso il centralismo papale (Leone IX, Niccolò II, Gregorio VII, Urbano II)’, in Il secolo XI: una svolta? Atti della XXXII settimana di studio, 10-14 settembre 1990, ed. Cinzio Violante and Johannes Fried, Annali dell’Istituto Storico Italo-Germanico in Trento Quaderno 35 (Bologna: Società Ed. Il Mulino, 1993), pp. 99-139. 101 Brezzi, ‘Le relazioni tra le città ed il contado nei comuni italiani’, pp. 317-39; Ingrid Baumgärtner, ‘Rombeherrschung und Romerneuerung: Die römische Kommune im 12. Jahrhundert’, Quellen und Forschungen aus italienischen Archiven und Bibliotheken 69 (1987), pp. 27-79; Tommaso Di Carpegna Falconieri, Il clero di Roma nel Medioevo: istituzioni e politica cittadina (secoli VIII-XIII), 1st ed., I libri di Viella 30 (Roma: Viella, 2002); Chris Wickham, Medieval Rome: Stability and Crisis of a City, 900-1150, First edition, Oxford Studies in Medieval European History (New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 2015), pp. 385-457. 102 Ernst-Dieter Hehl, Kirche und Krieg im 12. Jahrhundert: Studien zu kanon. Recht u. polit. Wirklichkeit, Monographien zur Geschichte des Mittelalters 19 (Stuttgart: Hiersemann, 1980); Edith Pásztor, ‘Lotta per le investiture e “ius belli”: la posizione di Anselmo di Luca’, in Sant’Anselmno, Mantova e la lotta per le Investiture. Atti del Convegno Internazi, ed. Paolo Golinelli, Il mondo medievale (Bologna: Pàtron, 1987).

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this rhetoric within the papal 103 and Canossan courts has likewise formed a focus of study.104 This has been accompanied by the consideration of the development of counter-rhetoric within the imperial party, but most especially from the court of Guibert of Ravenna – the antipope Clement III.105 This brief overview is in no way comprehensive. It serves primarily as an illustration of the varied and changing approaches to the study of violence in early medieval Italy within the context of broader historiographical trends and tendencies. The study of violence in this period is not restricted to the areas highlighted above and these themes are intricately nuanced and subject to substantial differentiation across the region and period. Nevertheless, these trends are visible within much of the work conducted 103 A. M. Stickler, ‘Il potere coattivo materiale della chiesa nella riforma gregoriana secondo Anselmo di Lucca’, Studi Gregoriano 2 (1947), pp. 235-85; I. S Robinson, ‘Gregory VII and the Soldiers of Christ’, History 58 (1973), pp. 169-92; Karl Leyser, ‘On the Eve of the First European Revolution’, in Communications and Power in Medieval Europe: The Gregorian Revolution and Beyond, ed. Timothy Reuter (London: Hambledon Press, 1994); Kathleen G. Cushing, Papacy and Law in the Gregorian Revolution: The Canonistic Work of Anselm of Lucca, Oxford Historical Monographs (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998); Patrick Healy, ‘Merito Nominentur Virago: Matilda of Tuscany in the Polemics of the Investiture Contest’, in Victims or Viragos?, ed. Christine Meek and Catherine Lawless, Studies on Medieval and Early Modern Women 4 (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2005). 104 Ludovico Gatto, ‘Matilde di Canossa nel Liber ad Amicum di Bonizone da Sutri’, in Studi matildici, Atti e Memorie del II Convegno di Studi matildici (Reggio Emilia, 1-3 maggio 1970) (Modena: Aedes Muratoriana, 1971), pp. 307-25; Mario Nobili, ‘L’Ideologia Politica in Donizone’, in Studi matildici, Atti e Memorie del III Convegno di Studi matildici (Reggio Emilia, 7-9 ottobre 1977) (Modena: Aedes Muratoriana, 1978), pp. 263-79; Elke Goez, ‘Matilde ed i suoi ospiti’, in I Poteri dei Canossa, da Reggio Emilia all’Europa: atti del convegno internazionale di studi (Reggio EmiliaCarpineti, 29-31 ottobre 1992), ed. Paolo Golinelli, Il mondo medievale (Bologna: Pàtron, 1994), pp. 325-34; Paolo Golinelli, ‘Le origini del mito di Matilde e la fortuna di Donizone’, in Matilde di Canossa nelle culture europee del secondo millennio: dalla storia al mito: atti del convegno internazionale di studi (Reggio Emilia, Canossa, Quattro Castella, 25-27 settembre 1997), ed. Paolo Golinelli, 1st ed., Il mondo medievale 8 (Bologna: Pàtron, 1999), pp. 29-52; Eugenio Riversi, ‘Note Sulla Rappresentazione Del Lignaggio Dei Canossa Nella “Vita Mathildis” Di Donizone’, Geschte Und Region/Storia e Regione 11/2 (2002), pp. 101-33; Eugenio Riversi, La memoria di Canossa: saggi di contestualizzazione della Vita Mathildis di Donizone, Studi medioevali, nuova ser., 2 (Pisa: Edizioni ETS, 2013). 105 Robert Somerville, ‘Anselm of Lucca and Wilbert of Ravenna’, Bulletin of Medieval Canon Law 10 (1980), pp. 1-13; Jürgen Ziese, Wibert von Ravenna, der Gegenpapst Clemens III. (1084-1100), Päpste und Papsttum 20 (Stuttgart: Hiersemann, 1982); Ingrid Heidrich, Ravenna unter Erzbischof Wibert (1073-1100) (Sigmaringen: Thorbecke, 1984); Orazio Francabandera, ‘La Chiesa Ravennate sotto l’arcivescovo Guiberto’, in Le carte ravennati del secolo undicesimo, ed. Ruggero Benericetti, Studi della Biblioteca Card. Gaetano Cicognani, nuova ser. 13 (Faenza: Biblioteca Cicognani, 2003), vii-xii; Healy, ‘Merito Nominentur Virago: Matilda of Tuscany in the Polemics of the Investiture Contest’.

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on Italy in the early Middle Ages and form elements of the discussion within each of the chapters of this volume.

This Volume Both the historical contexts and the historiographical responses set out above prompt the impulses behind the contributions in this volume. The detailed discussions here seek to understand the role of violence in the specific contexts in which that violence occurs. The nine contributions that follow range from the dawn of the Lombard period through to the twelfth-century election of Honorius II (1124-30) as pope. Geographically, as we noted above, the essays stretch from the far northeast – the impact of the Carolingian conquest in Borri’s contribution – to the far south where Wolf considers the re-shaping of the political configuration in terms of the impact of external protagonists and how the indigenous inhabitants experienced these challenges; with how they lived through instability and violence. The first two chapters (Heath and Berndt) form a duo considering aspects of elite violence in the Lombard kingdom proper between 568 and 774. As Heath remarks, ‘the elusive reality’ of Lombard kingship is often rendered obscure by the pithy and occasionally gnomic commentary of Paul the Deacon’s Historia Langobardorum which remains the principal narrative source for the early medieval Lombard kingdom. Even Paul’s silence about issues of significance for modern historians has elicited analysis of ‘I silenzi del diacono’ as a trope in the historiography. In terms of political violence, Paul’s comments on the activities of the Lombard King Cleph (572-4) are one of the strongest illustrations of this approach. Paul provides somewhat ambiguous notices that have served to inspire an impressive historical industry seeking to understand what the situation on the ground was really like at this time; in particular, concerned with understanding the impact of Lombard settlement and rule on the majority of the Italo-Roman population. Can one see through the violence described and identify the commencement of a process that resulted in the gradual fusion of populations as the kingdom develops and sustains itself beyond the inter-regnum period (i.e. 574-84)? Here, of course, the historian is at the mercy of the evidential platforms available. Naturally, the synthesis between the extant narrative materials and the rather limited normative sources we have for this period cannot entirely clear away the miasma and reveal the full complexity of Lombard political culture. Commentators prompted by the primary sources have concentrated on the skulduggery evident in Pavia (and to a lesser extent

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in Spoleto and Benevento) without fully integrating the context at large. Both Heath, with his three short case studies, and Berndt, who tightens his focus to the period 600 to 700, tackle these issues. Berndt considers both insurgency and counterinsurgency in the Lombard kingdom. One common impulse noted in both chapters is the tendency of commentators to suggest that the kingdom was, as Berndt puts it ‘bound alone to the selfish interests of the powerful Lombard dukes’. Similar but tangential conclusions are reached. For Heath whilst the links that bound protagonists together remain uncertain, sufficient cohesion was both maintained and obtained in the regnum to allows its continuance across the caesura represented by the Carolingian conquest. Berndt is alive to the issues that flow from the absence of a clear Lombard stirps regia (unlike Merovingian Gaul), but he concludes that rather than evidence of ‘eroding power structures and the displacement of loyalties’ one may actually see an element of significant cohesion in the competition for pre-eminence as the head of the Lombard kingdom. It was, perhaps paradoxically, this cohesion that facilitated the attachment of the kingdom to Carolingian Francia. Borri considers this new political constellation that relegated Lombard Italy to a component entity. He considers the period from 774 to 818 and analyses the Lombard/Italian kingdom as it moved from hostile opponent (prior to 774); to an important segment of Frankish power; to finally a ‘rebellious and treacherous realm’, all in the space of one generation. Borri’s chapter straddles this period from the initial conquest period (774 to 810) through the supervised rule of Charlemagne’s son Pippin of Italy (formerly Carloman) (781-810), to the circumscribed kingship of Pippin’s son Bernard (810-8), before his blinding and death on the orders of Louis the Pious (814-40). Borri aims to illuminate both the Frankish narratives of this period and those that are ‘in tension’ with the dominant approach. In so doing, Borri is able to discuss the real impact of political change for those inhabitants who were at the sharp end of Frankish attentions. Unlike the Lombard period, Borri tells us that ‘these years […] are blessed with many […] sources’. He undertakes a forensic scrutiny of what is said in the Liber Pontificalis (usually opposed to the Lombards); the Codex Carolinus (whose responses to the Lombards are less than positive); the Royal Frankish Annals; Einhard and others. Subsequently he sets out the sources for the revolt of Hrodgaud of Friuli in 776 and also materials for the rule of Pippin and Bernard, the latter of whom was brought to power as a result of Pippin’s demise courtesy of the ‘Adriatic swamps’. Bernard, as Borri notes, was moved to rebel by ‘Satan’ – or so at least Frothar of Toul suggested, and the Italians/Lombards were once again cast as perfidious and unworthy; a characterisation that has had a

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long history in some circles. Borri is thus able to conclude that the accounts he considers were far from being ‘positive depictions’ but rather carefully constructed narratives of conflict with distinctive biases. Wolf also considers the construction of narratives. Her point of focus are depictions of Muslims and Christians in the south of Italy, principally in the ninth century. The Islamic presence in the south, for Wolf, influenced what she calls ‘new dimensions of violence’ which had in turn a plethora of demographic, economic and political effects. One of these effects was the creation of ‘violent’ communities who were propelled into competition for both resources and power. One of the key drivers for Wolf’s analysis is a careful and systematic analysis of the language used by commentators. Here we find that the repertoire of Christian writers deployed a wide range of verbs, nouns, adverbs and adjectives to encompass the dimensions of violence and the apparent activities of Islamic protagonists. It is significant, suggests Wolf, that both aggressors and victims in this arena remain incognito. The depiction of Christian ‘counter-violence’ Wolf tells us, is ‘always represented as justified’. Setting these depictions beside each other in this way allows Wolf to clearly understand that new forms of violence ‘initiated new dimensions’ in terms of duration, intensity and regional focus. Historians can then differentiate between ‘zones of all-out violence’ and areas that are ‘permeated with violence’. Wolf’s final observation that new opportunities can be created by violence as part of ‘integrative […] complex processes’ is a useful means of approaching the notorious events that David Barritt considers in his chapter on Formosus and the synod of the corpse. Barritt’s chapter considers both the real and also the conceptual religious violence that occurred as a result of the posthumous degradation of the Pope in January 897 when his corpse was exhumed and put on public trial. Condemned, his body was mutilated and thrown into the river Tiber. Whilst this gruesome story may be rather notorious, Barritt seeks to unpick the contexts in Rome of the late ninth century. This period, with interesting resonances for an earlier period of crisis in Carolingian Italy, is often depicted as one of chronic instability with the ongoing ‘quasi’ civil war of Guy of Spoleto and Berengar. The synod, it is usually said, represents a nadir in the political culture of both Rome and Italy. As we have seen with the contributions of Borri and Wolf, Barritt considers the contextual foreground of the events but also identifies the constructed discourse that Liudprand of Cremona developed. Accordingly, Barritt suggests that the absence of recorded opposition to the pontificate of Formosus’ pre-mortem is significant when one considers the violent opposition that occurred post-mortem. Edoardo Manarini’s contribution also

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delves into the murky political theatre of late-post Carolingian Italy but shifts his focus to the representation of elite competition between two aristocratic kindreds. As Manarini tells us the ‘concept of competition’ amongst the potentes has shifted perceptions of the management, manipulation and maintenance of elite groups both at the regnal level and at the local level. This is reminiscent, as we noted above, of the characteristically amorphous relationships between kings, dukes and elite groups in Lombard Italy. Yet, Manarini is able to dissect the competition for pre-eminence between the Hucpoldings and the Supponids through the narratives supplied by the Epitome chronicarum Cassinensium. As Manarini shows, this narrative describes a fictional episode of ‘lewdness, violence and injustice’ during the rule of Louis II (844-75). In comparing the Epitome narrative with available documentary sources Manarini reveals the genesis of the passage and more broadly frames the conflict within the local political contours of Emilia. Looking back from the eleventh-century, elements of elite identity characterised by Manarini in his chapter remained part of the socio-political landscape. One of these, proximity-to-power, or to use the convenient German term, königsnahe, becomes a fundamental aspect of the Italian kingdom for the final three contributions in this volume. The first of these, the chapter by Nash, investigates the impact upon Italy of the Emperors Otto III (996-1002) and Frederick Barbarossa (1155-90). Nash is concerned with interrogating the legitimacy of their rule considering their acts of violence in the peninsula. Crucial in this context for Nash is how these two rulers sought to present themselves in terms of both action and appearance in written works. Nash focusses on the two appearances of Otto III in 996 and 997/8 and two later visits of Frederick in 1154/5 and 1158/62. In this sense the ‘Roman holidays’ of Otto and Frederick signify the direct application of a geographically external rule on the Italians, rather than the ultimately naturalised Carolingian rule (post Charlemagne) and the often-contested rule of the ‘Italian’ kings within the so-called National Kingdom between 888 and 962. The contextual panorama has clearly shifted. As a way into this nexus of issues, Nash considers three aspects; the adventus of emperors; the legacy of Pippin I (III) (751-68); and the regalian rights of Italian kings. With this in mind, and notwithstanding what in Nash’s view was their ‘vindictive and cruel’ activities, both Otto and Frederick sought not to destroy their support base but to ensure reverence and obedience. The responses of Italians to emperors is the key feature of Houghton’s contribution. He considers another German emperor, the Salian, Conrad II (1027-39) spending Christmas in Parma. Whilst resident in that city, a disturbance developed into a sustained confrontation between the Parmigiani

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and the imperial party. As Houghton notes, and as Nash implied, seamless harmony between the emperors from north of the Alps and the Italians was rarely achieved without some effort and struggle. Yet there are differences in both the context and scale for Houghton which allows him to offer an alternative viewpoint on aspects of the socio-political situation in Italy in the first half of the eleventh century. Crucially, he is able to identify the complexities behind the tensions that erupted into violence. This was not a simple binary paradigm, but rather a series of layered inter-connections and relationships between the emperors, the bishops, key magnates and the cives of Parma. No longer then can the sinews of elite control simply be described as connections to the king as primus inter pares with his potentes, and those who may also enjoy the prestige of königsnahe. As we have seen portrayed for the Lombard kingdom, local or regional dimensions have risen (once again) to a primordial level. Houghton concludes that these disturbances need to be viewed as constituent elements of the broader socio-political networks existing in Italy. In the volume’s final chapter Enrico Veneziani returns us to the papal cosmopolis and to the accounts of the election of Honorius II in 1124. For Veneziani, as for many of the historians in this volume, the depiction of these events in starkly opposite ways is illustrative. This is, of course, the opposite problem for many early medieval historians who are forced to grapple with clearly biased materials (which are not challenged by extant sources). Veneziani extracts from his sources the links between violence and social and political change in Rome with particular reference to the Frangipani family. It is common to characterise Italian politics in Anglophone circles as a quagmire which is best avoided – and we have seen that the projection of perfidy and treachery has a long provenance. It is also often suggested that the dangers that affect the un-wary who meddle in the cauldron of Roman politics, is often magnified by a papal connection. Here one must not only manage the perils of papal politics but also local elites, interested parties and trans-regional factors. If we return to Veneziani’s case study, we find that he demonstrates that, rather as Deusdedit suggested, we do not have a ‘divine act of love’, but an election of dispute and division that also featured lay violence. We have travelled far both in terms of chronology and geography, from the moment when Alboin’s (568-72) army first arrived in Italy in 568/9 to the election of a pope in 1124. There are, however, interesting threads which link all the contributions to this book, not least that while Italy may have been ‘a’ theatre of violence, that it experienced violence done to it by outsiders and indigenes alike, it was more than simply a zone of perpetual dystopian violent action – unadulterated, undifferentiated and chaotic. Behind the

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violent acts, there were rules of engagement, there were motivations, and most of all there were individuals with their own impulses, responses and their own histories. ***

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Zug-Tucci, Hannelore, ‘Il Carroccio nella vita comunale italiana’, QFIAB 65 (1985), pp. 1-104. Zumhagen, Olaf, ‘Religiöse Konflikte und kommunale Entwicklung: Mailand, Cremona, Piacenza und Florenz zur Zeit der Pataria’ (Köln: Böhlau Verlag, 2002).

About the Authors Robert Houghton is a Lecturer in Early Medieval History at the University of Winchester. His research focusses on the social and political history of the kingdom of Italy c.900 to c.1150 with particular emphasis on representations of urban society and the changing role and ideology of the bishop. Christopher Heath teaches at Manchester Metropolitan University. His interests include historiography, and socio-economic and religious change between 450 and 950. His monograph The Narrative Worlds of Paul the Deacon was published in 2017 by AUP. Currently he is working on a study of the Lombard King Liutprand.

2

Morbidity and Murder Lombard Kingship’s Violent Uncertainties 568-774 Christopher Heath Abstract The Edictum Rothari presents a useful window on the mechanics of Kingship and Law in Lombard Italy. Whilst those who conspire against the life of the king shall be killed, those who, on the contrary, receive advice to kill another third party from the king ‘shall not suffer any payment or trouble’ for ‘the heart of the king is in the hand of God’. Violence at the heart of the Lombard kingdom is a recurrent theme throughout its’ existence. This need not, however, colour perceptions of Lombard geo-politics since endemic competition for power and control is equally noticeable in comparable so-called ‘successor’ kingdoms. Using narrative and normative texts this chapter will consider the role of violence in Lombard society. Keywords: Kingship; Lombards; Paul the Deacon; Political violence

One of the first general histories of Italy in English by Sir William Thomas (c.1507-1554) was published in 1549. His ‘The History of Italy: A Book exceedingly profitable to be read…’ concerned itself with the governance of Italy and with providing favourable comment on Italian wealth, cultivation and political structures and processes for English readers.1 It did not, however, 1 William Thomas, The Historye of Italie a boke excedyng profitable to be redde because it intreateth of the astate of many and diuers common weales, how thei haue ben, (and) now be gouerned (London: Thomas Berthelet, 1549). The work was re-printed on at least two occasions (i.e. 1549 and 1561). There is no evidence for a third edition of 1562. For William Thomas see the Introduction of the George B. Parks’ edition (George B. Parks (ed.), William Thomas: The History of Italy (New York: Cornell University Press, 1963), pp. ix-xxviii which provides a useful overview of the intellectual use of Italian in England from Chaucer onwards. Parks’ edition omits the medieval period, retaining only 162 pages of the original 445. See also the useful Bibliography,

Heath, C. and R. Houghton (eds.), Conflict and Violence in Medieval Italy 568-1154. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press 2022 doi: 10.5117/9789462985179_ch02

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dwell upon the rule of the Lombard kings in the north and the centre of the peninsula between 568 and 774, save to present a rather thin catalogue of rulers. Such details as Thomas does supply appear to be entirely dependent upon the text of Paul the Deacon’s (c.730-c.796) Historia Langobardorum.2 The activities of the Lombard kings and the nature of their kingship is the principal strand that operates throughout Paul’s HL.3 Consideration of and commentary on the organic functions of the Lombard Kingdom continue to depend upon Paul’s narrative and are often affected by his anecdotal approach to events at the centre of the Lombard regnum. 4 If one seeks to get to grips with the elusive reality of Lombard kingship one must exercise caution in adopting Paul’s comments at face value.5 Yet the aim of this chapter, notwithstanding the murky quality of the operation and experience of power in Lombard Italy, is to consider one aspect of those pp. 135-7; and, E.R. Adair, William Thomas: A Forgotten Clerk of the Privy Council (Tudor Studies) (London: Longmans Green & Co, 1924), pp. 133-60. 2 See for example, ‘Arioaldus of whom I fynde nothing notable’ which echoes Paul’s remarks in the HL (IV.41) Thomas, Historye of Italie, p. 18 verso. For the HL see G. Waitz (ed.), MGH Scriptores rerum Langobardicarum et Italicarum (Berlin: Weidmann, 1878), pp. – requires page numbers; Lidia Capo, Paolo Diacono: Storia dei Longobardi (Vicenza: Viella, 1992); and W.D. Foulke, History of the Lombards (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1974). The literature on Paul the Deacon is considerable, but see Walter Goffart, The Narrators of Barbarian History 550-800: Jordanes, Gregory of Tours, Bede and Paul the Deacon (Notre Dame, Indiana: University of Notre Dame Press, 2005); and, Christopher Heath, The Narrative Worlds of Paul the Deacon: Between Empires and Identities in Lombard Italy (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2017). 3 Or as Wickham has observed, ‘the politics of land dominates the narratives of Paul the Deacon’. See Chris Wickham, Framing the Early Middle Ages: Europe and the Mediterranean 400-800 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), p. 117. 4 For example see the older narratives in Romolo Caggese, L’Alto Medioevo (Torino: Tipografia Sociale Torino, 1937), pp. 136-88; ‘La costituzione Longobarda e la Chiesa Romana’, or Ludwig Hartmann, ‘Italy under the Lombards’ in H.M. Gwatkin and J.P. Whitney (eds.), Cambridge Medieval History: Volume II: The Rise of the Saracens and the Foundation of the Western Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1936), pp. 194-221. Naturally, the un-evenness of Paul’s narrative has previously been noted. See for example, Wickham: ‘Paul was an intelligent critic, but he had a fairly simplistic sense of the past’ (Chris Wickham, Early Medieval Italy, p. 29); and the remarks of Costambeys in Giorgio Ausenda, Paolo Delogu and Chris Wickham (eds.), The Langobards before the Frankish Conquest: An Ethnographic Perspective, (Woodbridge, Boydell, 2009), p. 89. However, Kingsley’s views of 1864 seems pertinent here: ‘(A)n old chronicler, and very valuable, as far as we know (a) faithful writer (…) he may not be always quite accurate. In the long run you will know nothing about the matter save what he tells you; so be content with what you get’. Charles Kingsley, The Roman and the Teuton: A Series of Lectures (London: McMillan & Co, 1891), p. 171. 5 Bryan Ward Perkins comments that ‘Paul is not good by any standard’. See Ausenda, The Langobards, p. 115. In the same volume (p. 89), Costambeys suggests that, ‘I am never quite sure of what to expect from Paul’.

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mechanisms that affected the capacity and governance of the Regnum. How did violence shape and affect processes at both the centre and the periphery of the kingdom? To answer this, whilst it will not be argued that either Lombard kingship or society were un-usually peaceful early medieval oases in a general sea of violent chaos and confusion, it will be suggested that with the installation of Authari (584-90) as ruler in 584 after a ten (or even twelve) year inter-regnum, that Lombard rule was no more violent than contemporaneous polities in Visigothic Iberia or Merovingian Gaul.6 Furthermore the nature of the morbidity of Lombard kings will shed some light on the quotidian articulation of power and how what one might call the ‘sinews’ of the political community operated. We shall approach these issues first, by considering the evidence for violence in Lombard society; secondly, the role of law and its application to restrain and constrain political violence; and, finally by the consideration of three short case studies, i.e. the death of Alboin (568-72); the first exile of Perctarit (661-2 and 671-88) and his overthrow by Grimoald I (662-71); and the rule of Liutprand (712-44). Our principal guide for these three kings, as noted above will be the HL of Paul the Deacon (supplemented where possible), but we shall also use the available normative materials to provide context and assurance.7

Law and Authority in Lombard Italy: The Historical Inheritance Whilst judgements on the Lombards have been affected by their portrayal as violent, the early medieval period has been blighted by assumptions that endemic violence was present in and throughout all levels of society.8 Whilst Brown is correct to identify violence in this period as ‘personal, direct and visceral’, it is important to carefully define the parameters of violence so that the analysis does not merely engage with an undifferentiated amorphous 6 For the inter-regnum see Stefanie Dick, ‘Langobardi per annos decem regem non habentes sub ducibus fuerunt: Formen und Entwicklung der Herrschaftsorganisation bei den Langobarden: Eine Skizzip’ in Walter Pohl and Peter Erhart (eds.), Die Langobarden: Herrschaft und Identitat (Wien: Österreichischen Akademie, 2005), pp. 335-44. For more general treatments of violence see Guy Halsall, Warfare and Society in the Barbarian West 450-900 (Abingdon: Routledge, 2003); Guy Halsall (ed.), Violence and Society in the Early Medieval West (Woodbridge, Boydell, 1998); and Warren C. Brown, Violence in Medieval Europe (Harlow: Pearson, 2011). 7 Merging sources has problems of course. 8 For a sociological perspective on violence see S. Malešević, ‘Collective Violence and Power’ in Cleag, The Sage Handbook of Power, pp. 266-82 and S. Malešević, ‘Violence’ in Bryan S. Turner (ed.), Wiley Blackwell Encyclopaedia of Social Theory (London: John Wiley, 2017) with additional references therein.

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conceptual platform.9 Identifying what does or does not constitute legitimate and illegitimate violence is one useful approach.10 Additionally, whether such violence occurs privately or publicly will affect whether contemporaries viewed such violence as acceptable or not. There was a nexus of responses to violence which do not simply allow us to identify a simple straightforward set of stimuli. However, to strictly define violence ‘as the intentional use of physical force that generates harm or death’ is also not entirely suitable for the period or processes we wish to consider.11 A wider definition is preferable which sees violence as a process, in the words of Malešević, ‘a social process through which one intentionally or unintentionally inflicts the coercively imposed behavioural change, or whose actions result in physical, mental or emotional damage, injury or death’.12 Most of the discussion that follows will consider violence undertaken in a private sphere as tactical or strategic attempts to replace one ruler with another. It is thus not simply a discussion of the illegitimate uses of violence by those who then re-define the legitimacy of their own violence. In other words, this is more than a straightforward process where the violent poachers turn into the gamekeepers of legitimate power. Associations of the Lombards with violence have a lengthy provenance.13 Its persistence in historical commentary has been motivated by two interlinked discourses in the historiography.14 This first perception derives from a depiction of the Lombards’ appearance in Italy in 568/9 as particularly violent and destructive where in Nicholas Everett’s memorable characterisation they appear as an ‘exemplary horde, hardy and savage’.15 Earlier Thomas Hodgkin (1831-1913), who one might have hoped would provide a more sanguine view, in one lyrical passage considered that: [E]verything about them even for many years after they had entered on the sacred soil of Italy speaks of mere savage delight in bloodshed and 9 Warren C. Brown, Violence in Medieval Europe (Harlow: Pearson, 2011), p. 1. 10 Guy Halsall (ed.), Violence and Society in the Early Medieval West (Woodbridge: Boydell, 1998), pp. 7-16. Halsall also discusses the useful concepts of vertical and horizontal dimensions of violence. 11 Malešević, Encyclopaedia of Social Theory, p. 1. 12 Malešević, Encyclopaedia of Social Theory, p. 1. 13 As Wickham notes there has been a ‘concern with quantifying the violence of the Lombards which seemed to exclude anything as Romanised as a fiscal system’. Wickham, Framing the Early Middle Ages, pp. 115-6. 14 Ausenda, The Langobards, pp. 1-4. Caggese strikes a useful note of caution. Caggese, L’Alto Medioevo, pp. 88-9 and 95. 15 Nicholas Everett, Literacy in Lombard Italy c.568-774 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), p. 55.

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the rudest forms of sensual indulgence; they are the anarchists of the Völkerwanderung whose delight is only in destruction and who seem incapable of culture.16

It should be admitted that contemporary sixth-century sources also associated the Lombards with this sort of undifferentiated and destructive violence. The views of Gregory the Great (590-604) remain influential in this respect. He was able to bring his entire eschatological impulses to bear upon the Lombards. In one oft-quoted passage he remarks: Directly, like a sword from its scabbard, the savage Lombard people swept upon us… our multitudinous people withered before them like wheat cut down; cities were depopulated, strong places thrown down, churches burnt, monasteries of men and women destroyed, estates desolated, and the land cleared of its owners. Where before multitudes of men occupied the land, only the beasts of the field roam.17

It was a pejorative instinct that persisted in Papal circles. Nearly two centuries later Pope Stephen II (III) (752-7) was still describing the Lombards as ‘perf idious and most foully stinking’ ( foetentissimae).18 Such views 16 Thomas Hodgkin, Italy and her Invaders: Volume V: The Lombard Invasions 553-600 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1895), p. 156. 17 ‘Mox effera Langobardorum gens da vagina suae habitationis educta, in nostram cerviciem grassata est atque humanum genus, quod in hac terra pro nimia multitudine quasi spissae segetis more surrexerat succisum aruit. Nam depopulatae urbes eversa castra, concrematae ecclesiae, destructa sunt monasteria virorum ac feminarum, desolata ab hominibus praedia atque abomni cultore destituita in solitudine vacat terra, nullus hanc possessor inhabitat, occupaverunt bestiae loca quae prius multitudo hominum tenebat’. Gregory the Great, Dialogorum Libri IV in J.P. Migne (ed.) Patrologia Latina (Paris: J.P. Migne, 1861) (iii.38) p. 316. Quoted by H.K. Mann, The Lives of the Popes Vol.I Part I: The Popes under Lombard Rule (London: B. Herder, 1914), pp. 100-1. Horace K. Mann (1859-1928), taking his cue from Gregory, described the Lombards as ‘fierce’ and as the ‘chief trouble, the lifelong cross’ of Gregory the Great (see p. 99). See also, R.A. Markus, Gregory the Great and his World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), pp. 97-100; Conrad Leyser, Authority and Asceticism from Augustine to Gregory the Great (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2000), pp. 131-46; and, H. Ashworth, The Influence of the Lombard Invasions on the Gregorian Sacramentary’, Bulletin of the John Rylands University Library 36 (1953-4), pp. 305-27. Earlier equations of unbridled and unfocussed violence are evident in the Prokopios’ account, which notes the dismissal of the Lombards by the forces of Narses. F.W. Shipley (ed.), Prokopios, The Wars (London: Loeb, 1928), pp. 321 and 389-91 (VIII.25 and VIII.33). See Shami Ghosh, Writing the Barbarian Past: Studies in Early Medieval Historical Narratives (Leiden: Brill, 2016), p. 144. 18 E. Dümmler, MGH: Epistolae Merowingici et Karolini Aevi; Tomus I (Berlin: Weidmann, 1897), pp. 560-1. For translation see P.D. King, Charlemagne: Translated Sources (Kendal: P.D. King, 1987), p. 271. In the same letter the Lombards are described as ‘frightful’, ‘barbaric’ and

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have had a disproportionate effect on subsequent judgements about the Lombards, and were further galvanised by the Carolingian conquest of 774.19 The second response flows from the lengthy and unresolved debate about the Lombards and their accommodation with the Italo-Romans. Do we see with their arrival elements of continuity, or is this the final step that brought Italy into a new period of diminished horizons and reduced material culture? For Gian-Piero Bognetti (1902-63), of course, a new society emerged which replaced the Roman and Byzantine models which he characterised as corrupt, decadent and bureaucratic in contrast to the vigorous rule of the Lombards which was also put into place by the twin-headed hydra of violence and depopulation.20 Adverse judgements have persisted. Not only did Giovanni Tabacco’s (1914-2002) influential 1979 work The Struggle for Power in Medieval Italy describe the entire two hundred years of Lombard rule as a ‘rupture’ but Tabacco also emphasised the Lombards inherent violence and their ‘primitive’ social and political organisation.21 On the other hand, it is possible to view the Regnum with greater circumspection. More recently, for instance, Pohl has suggested that the ‘new structures of power limited the king (this often interpreted as a structural weakness of the kingdom) while at the same time strengthening local ties and civic identities’.22 Tensions, even targeted political violence in the Regnum, can be portrayed as an ongoing dialogue which funnelled conflicts between and across local embedded power networks and regional (dukes, gastalds) and supra-regional (kings) power wielders. In other words, a fluid and varied negotiation operated between local elites on the ground and more distant powers such as the Lombard kings in Pavia. Naturally, one might expect some form of dislocation and dissonance at the sharp end of the theoretically a ‘race from which the stock of lepers is known for certain to have sprung’ (‘ac foetentissimae Langobardorum gens (…) de eius natione et leprosarum genus certum est’). 19 See Borri’s contribution in this volume and Stefano Gasparri (ed.), 774: Ipotesi su una Transizione (Turnhout: Brepols, 2008), especially pp. 41-80. 20 As a characterisation, of course, this leaves a lot to be desired. See Gian-Piero Bognetti, ‘Longobardi e Romani’ in L’Età Longobarda Volume I (Milano: Giuffre, 1966), pp. 83-141 For Byzantine Italy see Thomas S. Brown, Gentlemen and Officers: Imperial Administration and Aristocratic Power in Byzantine Italy, 554-800 (Hertford: British School at Rome, 1984); Thomas S. Brown, ‘Byzantine Italy c.680-c.876’ in R. McKitterick (ed.), New Cambridge Medieval History c.700-c.900 (Cambridge: CUP, 2005), pp. 320-48; Neil Christie, From Constantine to Charlemagne: An Archaeology of Italy 300-800 (Farnham: Ashgate, 2006); and, for a specific case study, Deborah Mauskopf Deliyannis, Ravenna in Late Antiquity (Cambridge: CUP, 2010). 21 Giovanni Tabacco, The Struggle for Power in Medieval Italy: Structures of Political Rule (Cambridge: CUP, 1989), pp. 73-108. 22 Walter Pohl, ‘Invasions and Ethnic Identity’ in C. La Rocca (ed.), Italy in the Early Middle Ages 476-1000 (Oxford, OUP, 2002), p. 22.

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closed hierarchical power networks.23 The complicated layering of society was one that commentators from the XIXth-century Risorgimento onwards have simplified into a picture of catastrophe or continuity, exemplified by over-rigid ethnic associations – be these Italo-Roman or Lombard. 24 Finally, one should note the latent Anglophone tendency to emphasise the chaotic disorder of Italian governance and political expression, depicted as either a snake-pit or as a quagmire.25 Having considered the historical interpretative context we should now consider the capacity and the space in which Lombard kingship operated and the nature of the violence which occurred which will form the basis for discussion in the next section.

The Space for Lombard Kingship Lombard kingship shared many of the salient characteristics of early medieval rulership in the West.26 Delogu’s specific description is useful: ‘The king’ he suggests ‘was the leader of the entire people in migration and war. His very existence was a token of the people’s independence and political sovereignty. The kings […] had a special charisma which derived from victory but they were subject to the control of their efficiency by others, this sometimes led to their deposition’.27 Consideration of the actual history 23 Pohl, Invasions and Ethnic Identity, p. 22. One might also characterise this as a series of capillary power relations. See Wickham, Framing the Early Middle Ages, pp. 120-2; and, for a useful discussion of societal structures see Paolo Delogu, ‘Lombard and Carolingian Italy’ in McKitterick (ed.), New Cambridge Medieval History, pp. 290-4. 24 Stefano Gasparri, Italia Longobarda: Il Regno, I Franchi, il Papato (Roma: Laterza, 2012), p. 11. More generally see Ian Wood, The Modern Origins of the Early Middle Ages (Oxford, OUP, 2015), and see the comments of Chris Wickham and Paolo Delogu, The Langobards before the Frankish Conquest: An Ethnographic Perspective. 25 See for instance, Richard G. Davies, ‘The Church and the Wars of the Roses’ in A.J. Pollard (ed.), The Wars of the Roses (Basingstoke: McMillan, 1995), p. 159: ‘(T)he snake-pit of Italian politics’. The temptation to use the pejorative term ‘quagmire’ ranges from analyses as diverse as fourteenth-century Papal politics to post-WWII Italian parliamentary tergiversations. 26 Wickham, Framing the Early Middle Ages, pp. 115-20; Peter H. Sawyer and Ian Wood (eds.), Early Medieval Kingship (Leeds: University of Leeds, 1977); Dick Harrison, The Early State and the Towns: Forms of Integration in Lombard Italy AD 568-774 (Lund: Lund University Press, 1993); Paolo Delogu, ‘Kingship & the Shaping of the Lombard Body Politic’ in Ausenda et al., The Langobards, pp. 251-89. 27 Paolo Delogu, ‘Kingship and the Shaping of the Lombard Body Politic’ in Ausenda et al., The Langobards, p. 251. Contrast his statement with Paul the Deacon’s observations on Alboin, Rothari, Grimoald, Perctarit, Cunincpert and Liutprand. For the activities of peaceful kings see Paul J.E. Kershaw, Peaceful Kings: Peace, Power and the Early Medieval Political Imagination (Oxford: OUP, 2011).

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of Lombard kingship in Italy demonstrates how this control of efficiency operated. Out of a possible twenty-six incumbents between 568 and 774: a) Six were murdered;28 b) Nine kings died in circumstances prompted by elite conspiracy or conflict in battle;29 But on the other hand: c) Thirteen (so far as the sources allow) died natural (or at the least nonviolent) deaths;30 d) Although for five we have no certain information one way or the other.31 The average regnal length for a Lombard king was 7.92 years. If one compares this to either Visigothic Iberia (from Alaric II onwards, i.e. 484 to 721) or Merovingian Gaul (from Clovis I onwards, i.e. 481 to 751) comparable figures would be 8.46 for the Visigoths and 8.43 for the Merovingians.32 There is then no regnal inflation rate which might suggest that Lombard kingship was more dangerous or violent than rule elsewhere in the West at roughly the same time. Having said this, however, unlike either Burgundian or Merovingian kings, Lombard rulers failed to extend direct dynastic continuities beyond three 28 Alboin in 572; Cleph in 574; Adaloald in 626 (?); Rodoald in 652; Godepert in 662; and Liutpert in 701. If one is flexible with definitions, then Rotharit who was executed and Alahis who was killed in battle may also be included. There is some doubt about the nature of Aistulf’s demise in 756. 29 Alboin in 572; Authari in 590 (?); Adaloald in 626; Rodoald in 652; Godepert in 662; Grimoald in 671(?); Liutpert in 701; Aripert II in 712; and Aistulf in 756 (?). One may also include Rotharit and Alahis as noted above. Cleph’s murder is not included – we are told that his demise was caused by the actions of a servant without the suggestion that individuals had conspired to conjure his death. 30 Agilulf in 616; Arioald in 636; Rothari in 651; Aripert I in 661; Garibald (?); Perctarit in 688; Cunincpert in 700; Raginpert in 700; Ansprand in 712; Liutprand in 744; Hildeprand (?); Ratchis, Desiderius and Adelgis. 31 These were Garibald, Hildeprand, Ratchis, Desiderius and Adelgis. Little of use can be said of pre-Italian Lombard kings who have thus been excluded. For the ten individuals that Paul identifies as kings only Tato is singled out as having met a violent death. There is no information on the death of the other pre-Italian phase kings. For Tato see Waitz, MGH SrL, pp. 59-60; Foulke, History of the Lombards, p. 38; Capo, Storia dei Longobardi, pp. 40-3. 32 Using R.F. Tapsell, Monarchs, Rulers, Dynasties and Kingdoms of the World (London: Thames & Hudson, 1984), we have 32 Frankish kings between 481 and 751 which equates to a notional average regnal tenure of 8.43 years; for the Visigothic kingdom between 484 and 721 we have 28 incumbents and an average of 8.46. For comparison, the figures for the Suevic Iberian kingdom (409-585) are 13 known rulers = 13.53 – but there is a considerable period of uncertainty which may render the average as 8.8 and 20 incumbents; for Ostrogothic Italy (493-553) 8 rulers = 7.5 as an average and the Burgundian kingdom in Gaul (c.407-534) had 11 rulers with an average tenure of 11.54.

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generations (and this only once and for about a year).33 Anecdotal passages in narratives and analysis of the bald parameters of those who were kings does not, however, do more than confirm our own suspicions. Clearly, it would follow from this that the maintenance of political power was neither secure nor stable and often accompanied by violence and/or prolonged periods of uncertainty and disorder. In some respects, it should surprise us more that extensive territorial units functioned for any length of time when the links that bound protagonists together were so thin and uncertain. Yet apparently such power remained an attractive goal for individuals in that time and place. This power was contested within an overall structure that sustained and survived such challenges.34 Arguably this durability is highlighted both by the survival of the kingdom beyond the Frankish conquest of 774,35 but also by its earlier reinvention in 584 when Authari (584-90) was elevated to kingship by the Lombard dukes to deal with the concerted external threat posed by an alliance between the Franks and the Byzantine empire.36 In practice the Lombard kingdom operated within a system that limited both the capacity and the capability of the kings to act. We do see, however, over the 206 years of the regnum’s existence a progression in terms of the ability of the Lombard kings to exercise control beyond Pavia. Paul the Deacon’s emphasis of the fame, prowess and power of Alboin provides illustrative material for this limitation. Whilst it was Alboin, we are told, who determined that the Lombards would enter Italy and that his nephew Gisulf, ‘a man suitable in every way’ would rule as dux in Forum Iulii. It was Gisulf who ‘announced that he would not undertake the government of this city (i.e. Forum Iulii) and people unless Alboin would give him the ‘faras’, that is the families or stocks of the Langobards that he himself wished to choose […] And this was done’.37 This form of accommodation was evident 33 This amounts to (at best) only 30 years out of a possible 206 years in which the Lombards ruled in Italy and runs from Perctarit to his grandson Liutpert. There was no ‘stirps regia’ in a Merovingian sense, although one can construct a ‘Bavarian’/Agilolfing dynastic connection. There were, however, eight occasions when kings were followed by sons or brothers. 34 Wickham, Early Medieval Italy, p. 37. Wickham comments that there was ‘substantial cohesion’. See Paul Fouracre, ‘Cultural Conformity and Social Conservatism in Early Medieval Europe’, History Workshop Journal 33 (1992), pp. 152-61, at p. 155. 35 Gasparri (ed.), 774: Ipotesi su una Transizione. 36 Pohl, Sixth-Century; Ausenda et alii, The Langobards; Javier Arce and Paolo Delogu (eds.), Visigoti e Langobardi (Firenze: Insegna del Giglio, 2001). Yet Wickham suggests that the ‘Lombards were weakly attracted to kingship’, see Wickham, Early Medieval Italy, p. 31. 37 Waitz, MGH SrL, pp. 77-8; Foulke, History of the Lombards, pp. 65-6; Capo, Storia dei Longobardi, pp. 86-9. For Gisulf I see Stefano Gasparri, I Duchi Longobardi (Roma: Istituto Storico Italiano, 1978), p. 65.

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subsequently. Both Cleph (572-4) and Authari are selected by ‘common consent’ (omnes communi consilio) and their rule is maintained by the balance between the ruler and the ruled, centre and locality.38 Agilulf’s (590-616) rule was pivotal for the extension of the capacity of Lombard kingship. Paul the Deacon notes that he disposed of six duces.39 Of these two ‘previously separated by strife’ were ‘taken back by him […] in peace’. 40 The case of Gaidulf of Bergamo is the most significant in this respect. Whilst we are dealing with violent opposition on a relatively modest scale, Gaidulf rebelled on two separate occasions and yet still survived and was pardoned. It was only on the third occasion that Agilulf resolved to dispose of him entirely. Certainly, at this stage in the kingdom’s existence the variance in capacity between Lombard kings and dukes was not sufficient to allow kings to impose their will. They could, as the example of Gaidulf demonstrates, be opposed violently and successfully. One aspect not touched upon by Delogu’s characterisation mentioned above, however, allowed the seventh-century Lombard kings and their successors a theoretical platform upon which they could emphasise their superiority and their appropriated monopoly of the use of legitimate violence. Their use of law to channel, control and direct violence was no doubt an important aspect of their enhanced capacity for action and ability to intervene throughout the kingdom. 41 A brief survey of the Edictum Rothari of 643 of Rothari (636-51) would suggest that we are dealing with a violent (in its undifferentiated form) society. One can see that a significant proportion of the 388 capituli deal with violent activities and their consequences. 42 Of these most, however, tackle what may be called low-level infractions of order including [xi] on plots involving death (‘de consilio mortis’); [xiii] concerning him who kills his lord (‘si quis 38 For Cleph (II.31) see Waitz, MGH SrL, p.90; Foulke, History of the Lombards, p. 86; and Capo, Storia dei Longobardi, pp. 114-5; and, for Authari (III.16) see Waitz, MGH SrL, pp. 100-1; Foulke, History of the Lombards, p. 113; and, Capo, Storia dei Longobardi, pp. 144-7. 39 The six are Mimulf of St. Julian and Ulfari of Treviso (IV.3): Waitz, MGH SrL, p. 117; Foulke, History of the Lombards p. 152; Capo, Storia dei Longobardi, pp. 182-5; Maurizio (IV.8): Waitz, MGH SrL, p. 118; Foulke, History of the Lombards p. 155 Capo, Storia dei Longobardi, pp. 186-7; Gaidulf of Bergamo, Zangrulf of Verona and Warnecaut of Pavia (IV.13): Waitz, MGH SrL, p. 121; Foulke, History of the Lombards p. 160; Capo, Storia dei Longobardi, pp. 192-3. Wickham suggests that Agilulf ‘overthrows and obtains the submission of eight dukes’. Wickham, Early Medieval Italy, p. 33. 40 These were Gaidoald of Trent and Gisulf of Friuli. Waitz, MGH SrL, p. 121; Foulke, History of the Lombards p. 160; Capo, Storia dei Longobardi, pp. 192-3. 41 Compare for instance the range of Agilulf’s activities with those of Liutprand. 42 Out of a possible 388 capituli 136 (35%) deal directly with some form of violence to the individual (I exclude sexual violence, i.e. rape).

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dominum occiderit’); [xlvi] on him who hits another man on his head (‘si quis alii plagam in capite fecerit’); or [xlviii] on gouging out of eyes (‘de oculo evulserit’).43 There are two clauses which pertain to kings directly and their governance which merit full quotation. These are: i). Si quis contra animam regis cogitaverit (‘On him who plots against the life of the king’). Si quis hominum contra animam regis cogitaverit aut consiliaverit animae suae incurrat periculum et res eius infiscentur (‘That man who conspires or gives counsel against the life of the King shall be killed and his property confiscated’). ii) Si quis cum rege de morte alterius consiliaverit (‘On him who takes counsel with the king regarding the death of another’). Si quis cum rege de morte alterius consiliaverit aut hominum per ipsius iussionem occiderit in nullo sit culpavelis… quia postquam corda regum in manum Dei credimus esse, non est possibile ut homo possit eduniare quem rex occidere iusserit (‘He who receives counsel from the king concerning another’s death or kills a man by the king’s order shall be entirely without blame […] For since we believe that the heart of the king is in the hand of God it is inconceivable that anyone whose death the king has ordered could be entirely free of guilt’). 44

Both clauses abrogate to the king a position in Lombard society where they hold, sustain and direct all forms of legitimate violence. This use of targeted political violence allows the king in theory at least to control those who would make judgements about his ‘efficiency’. Here the contexts of Rothari’s Edictum are worth recalling. It was issued after both the inter-regnum of 574 to 584 and the violent overthrow of several of his predecessors. It is noticeable then that Rothari sought to anchor his authority and the Laws in both tradition and the testimony of the ‘old men’ (antiquos homines). 45 43 Georg Pertz (ed.), MGH: Legum (Tomus IV) (Hannover: Hahniani, 1858), pp. 3-6; Claudio Azzara and Stefano Gasparri (eds.), Le leggi dei Longobardi: Storia, memoria e diritto di un popolo germanico (Roma: Viella, 2005), xi + xiii, pp. 18-9; xlvi, xlvii and xlviii, 26-7; and Katherine Fischer Drew, The Lombard Laws (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1973), pp. 41-2 and p. 44 for titles. Also see Warren Brown, Violence in Medieval Europe (Edinburgh: Pearson, 2011), p. 1: ‘[V]iolence in the Middle Ages was personal, direct and visceral’. 44 Pertz, MGH: Legum, p. 13; Azzara and Gasparri, Le leggi, pp. 16-7; Drew, The Lombard Laws, p. 53. 45 Pertz, MGH: Legum, p. 2; Azzara and Gasparri, Le leggi, pp. 15-6; Drew, The Lombard Laws, pp. 39-40.

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Finally, three further clauses are also worth highlighting which deal with aspects of the day-to-day realities of and challenges to governance. These are iv) ‘Si quis inimicis intra provincia invitaverit’; v) ‘si quis scamaras celaverit’; and vi) ‘si quis in exercito seditionem levaverit’.46 If we recall the morbidity of Lombard kings it is clear that those who successfully conspired to replace or depose incumbent rulers did so at the risk of their own lives – however, success could also only be attained by the death of the targeted king himself, and no doubt his principal supporters as well. 47 Naturally, success could be attained but not guaranteed. Here then is a scenario of high risk which implicitly pushes individuals into undertaking violence to maintain their own security.48 Clause vi) is also important. We may be tempted to suggest that the military aspects of kingship formulated the rationale behind this and, further, that this underscores the crucial support of the army which was one feature of Lombard societal structures that could not be neglected. Given what we know about the uncertainties of Lombard kingship it does not appear that any of these provisions tackled the motivations or activities of protagonists, or certainly did not restrain those who aimed at either resistance to or replacement of Lombard kings by violent means. The difficulty that remains for us is that there are limited examples of the law in action. As Wickham observed some time ago, ‘kings had the problem of ensuring that the state had the power to back up judgements, that were not accepted by the losing party, particularly when the losing party was a man of influence and power’.49 This is illustrated by an episode in 76250 – of Liutprand’s use of his maiordomus (as a missi) in the interminable (and infamous) boundary dispute between Siena and Arezzo.51 It is narrative rather than normative materials that provide examples of those who fell afoul of kings for their ambitions or those who were violently dispatched for no better reason than that their existence appeared to embody a locus of opposition to the kings 46 Pertz, MGH: Legum, p. 13; Azzara and Gasparri, Le leggi, pp. 16-7; Drew, The Lombard Laws, p. 53. See Halsall, Violence and Society in the Early Medieval West; Halsall, Warfare in the West. 47 The fate of the deposed kings Garibald (671-2) in 672 and Hildeprand (737-44) are not known. Ratchis (744-9 and 756-7) who retired is an exception worthy of note. Not only did he survive his replacement, but because of a conspiracy/putsch led by his own brother seven years later, he also nearly pulled off a successful attempt to return to prominence. 48 Whilst Helmechis (d. 572?) survived the murder of Alboin we do not know what happened to the murderer of Cleph in 574 or indeed whether this was a chance event or one orchestrated by other unknown parties. We are told that the demise of Rodoald in 652 was the consequence of a single individual eager to exact a personal revenge. 49 Wickham, Early Medieval Italy, p. 127. 50 Wickham, Early Medieval Italy, p. 122. 51 Wickham, Early Medieval Italy, pp. 39 and 43.

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in Pavia.52 The accounts we do have reveal the activities of individuals but not necessarily their motivations or personalities and certainly not their principles or policies.53 Fundamentally we are left with the uncertainties of narrative material where the often-nebulous equations of choice, coercion and chance operate. It is, however, in the final section still worthwhile to use these materials to consider the responses of three kings to targeted violent political activity.

Alboin, Perctarit and Liutprand: Violence and Murder in the Court This final section will consider three episodes relating to specific instances of violence at the heart of the Lombard kingdom. First, we shall discuss Alboin (568-72), who remains the best known. Here we have, by all reports, a strong and capable ruler who was overthrown and murdered. His example may prove to be rather atypical. Secondly, roughly a century later, we shall analyse the difficulties of Perctarit (661-2 and 672-88) who experienced contested rule with his brother Godepert (661-2) and who was subsequently displaced by the usurper Grimoald (662-71).54 Thirdly, although Liutprand (712-44) achieved an epitome of Lombard kingship, his rule was not unchallenged. Out of these three examples, the one that has attracted the most attention is the death of Alboin in 572. Not only the subject of an opera, a tragedy in five acts, a late nineteenth-century English play but also a ‘sword and sandal’ film in 1961, there are still important judgements to be formed from a careful scrutiny of Alboin’s demise.55 The story involves an outraged wife Rosamunda who, forced to drink wine in public from a cup made of 52 See for example Paul the Deacon’s account of Lupus and his fear of Grimoald’s reactions which prompted the rebellion. Waitz, MGH SrL, p. 151; Foulke, History of the Lombards, pp. 227-8; Capo, Storia dei Longobardi, pp. 270-1. 53 Wickham’s comments on Bognetti’s depiction of Lombard factionalism are useful here. Wickham, Early Medieval Italy, pp. 35-6. 54 Perctarit’s survival, exile and triumphant return form a significant section of book V of the Historia Langobardorum. See Christopher Heath, The Narrative Worlds of Paul the Deacon: Between Empires and Identities in Lombard Italy (Amsterdam: AUP, 2017), pp. 210-29. 55 The 1691 opera of Giuseppe Felice Tosi (b.1619) and Carlo Francesco Pollarolo (c.1653-1723); Rosamunda, a tragedy in f ive acts by Vittorio Alf ieri (1749-1803) of 1783; Algernon Charles Swinburne’s Rosamund Queen of the Lombards, 1899; and the 1961 film directed by Carlo Campogalliani, Sword of the Conqueror/Rosmunda e Alboino with Jack Palance (1919-2006) as Alboin and Eleonora Rossi Drago (1925-2007) as Rosmunda. See Francesco Borri, ‘Murder by Death: Alboin’s life, end(s) and means’, Millennium 8 (2011), pp. 225-6 for further examples.

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her father’s skull, contrived the murder of her husband. Four or five years earlier Alboin had defeated and killed Cunimund (c.560-567), King of the Gepids in battle and then forced his daughter to marry him as a trophy of his victory. In his account Paul the Deacon emphasised the treachery (‘insidiis’) of Alboin’s wife.56 At the same time, he was anxious to underscore the truth of the notice and the reality of the skull-cup, characteristically exercising his penchant for redolent detail. He remarked: [L]est this should seem impossible to anyone I speak the truth in Christ, I saw King Ratchis holding this cup in his hand on a certain festal day to show it to his guests’.57

Two elements of this story are of particular interest in this instance. First, Paul indicates that Rosamunda ‘formed a plan with Helmechis who was the king’s squire [scilpor] that is his armour bearer and his foster brother to kill the king’.58 In Paul’s narrative it is Helmechis that prompts the additional recruitment of Peredeo, ‘a very strong man’ to the plot. Even so, again according to Paul, it is essentially only after he has been entrapped by Rosamunda that he becomes an active, albeit reluctant participant in the murder of Alboin. It is noteworthy that for Paul, the whole basis of the overthrow of Alboin revolves around the revulsion of his queen and her desire for revenge.59 Yet there are indications in earlier sources that more may have been afoot in the background before the death of Alboin. The laconic observations of Marius of Avenches (532-96), John of Biclar (c.540-c.621) and Gregory of Tours (538-94) however, whilst systematically scrutinised elsewhere by Ghosh and Borri, only hint at plots and factions and the role 56 Waitz, MGH SrL, p. 87; Foulke, History of the Lombards, pp. 81-3; Capo, Storia dei Longobardi, pp. 108-9: ‘The king was slain by the treachery of his wife’. For material on Paul’s gendered view see Ross Balzaretti, ‘Theodolinda, Most Glorious Queen: Gender & Power in Lombard Italy’, Medieval History Journal 2(2) (1999), pp. 183-207. 57 ‘Hoc ne cui videatur impossibile, veritatem in Christo loquor; ego hoc poculum vidi in quodam die festo Ratchis principem ut illud convivis suis ostentaret manu tenentem’. Waitz, MGH SrL, pp. 87-8; Foulke, History of the Lombards, p. 81; Capo, Storia dei Longobardi, pp. 108-9. For the skull-cup see Borri, Murder by Death, pp. 223-70, and pp. 256-62. 58 Waitz, MGH SrL, p. 88; Foulke, History of the Lombards, p. 82; Capo, Storia dei Longobardi, pp. 108-9. 59 Much of the historiography follows Paul’s views, e.g. Hartmann’s classic chapter in the Cambridge Medieval History of 1913: ‘Revolted by her husband’s insolence […] Rosamund conspired with Alboin’s foster brother Helmechis and a powerful man called Peredeo but as Rosamund could not realise her plan of taking possession of the throne with Helmechis against the Lombard opposition the two fled to Ravenna’. L. Hartmann, in Cambridge Medieval History (Cambridge: CUP, 1913), p.196.

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of Alboin’s wife is not developed in any detail to explain whether there is more to the overthrow of Alboin than appears from Paul’s later enhanced account.60 Whether we do or do not accept the motivation of Alboin’s violent overthrow as one prompted by Rosamunda or Helmechis, or both, what occurs next is illustrative of the uncertain processes involved around succession amongst the aulic elite. Helmechis attempted to become king after Alboin had been ‘buried with great grief and lamentations’.61 Paul’s remarks are worth repeating in full: Helmechis then upon the death of Alboin attempted to usurp his kingdom, but he could not at all do this because the Langobards grieving greatly for the king’s death strove to make way with him. And straightaway Rosamunda sent word to Longinus, prefect of Ravenna that he should quickly send a ship to fetch them.62

Covert targeted violence and murder was insufficient to ensure a smooth replacement of Alboin with Helmechis and despite the somewhat fluid condition of Italy in this early phase of the Lombard presence in the peninsula, it seems there was sufficient cohesion at the centre – presumably the palatium in Verona – to not only preclude the assumption of rule by Helmechis and Rosamunda but to also install Cleph (572-4) ‘by common consent’ as king. Nearly two years later Cleph himself was also murdered, but this is not discussed in any detail in our sources.63 Here again a Lombard king had met a violent death but on this occasion no agreement was reached as to who should replace him as king.64 This may suggest that the mechanisms that instituted governance were friable and insufficiently robust to ensure 60 Borri, Murder by Death, pp. 230-40; and, Ghosh, Writing the Barbarian Past, pp. 135-6. Ghosh helpfully sets out all the pertinent passages with references. 61 Waitz, MGH SrL, p. 89; Foulke, History of the Lombards, p. 83; Capo, Storia dei Longobardi, pp. 110-1. 62 ‘Igitur Helmichis, extincto Alboin, regnum eius invadere conatus est. Sed minime potuit, quia Langobardi, nimium de morte illius dolentes, eum moliebantur extinguere. Statimque Rosemunda Longino praefecto Ravennae mandavit, ut citius navem dirigeret, quae eos suscipere possit’. Waitz, MGH SrL, p. 89; Foulke, History of the Lombards, p. 84; Capo, Storia dei Longobardi, pp. 112-3. 63 Waitz, MGH SrL, p. 90; Foulke, History of the Lombards, p. 86; Capo, Storia dei Longobardi, pp. 114-5. For Cleph see Paolo Bertolini, ‘Clef i’ in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani (Roma: Istituto dell’Enciclopedia Italiana, 1982), pp. 174-8. 64 Waitz, MGH SrL, p.90; Foulke, History of the Lombards, pp. 86-7; Capo, Storia dei Longobardi, pp. 114-5.

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a succession and that in addition, these mechanisms may have been compromised by Byzantine attempts to undermine the Lombard kingdom as a whole through the use of contacts, intrigue and bribery of individual Lombard dukes.65 Furthermore, there must be some connection between the events of 574 and the enigmatic comments of Paul on the rule of Cleph which hint at his activities further weakening the support base for (or at least those who were prepared to condone) Lombard kingship. Whilst the material we have on the deaths of both Alboin and Cleph appears to beg more questions than it answers, we can conclude that, first, aulic political violence based on factional strife was not in itself a barrier to activity; second, and significantly, such activity required consent amongst the elite at the centre if it was to ultimately succeed. Even these rather opaque episodes which provide a shallow glimpse of the protagonists at the centre are greater than the evidence for the organic function of kingship throughout the next century. There is, however, greater notice regarding Perctarit who succeeded to rule with his brother Godepert on the death of their father in 661. It is reported that their assumption of rule was not accompanied by violence, but the unstable division of the kingdom between the two brothers was the cause of further conflict.66 There are features of these events that merit greater consideration. Paul’s account is important: Aripert then after he had ruled at Ticinum for nine years, died leaving the kingdom to be governed by his two sons Perctarit and Godepert who were still of youthful age. And Godepert indeed had the seat of his kingdom at Ticinum but Perctarit at the city of Mediolanum. Between these two brothers at the instigation of evil men, quarrels and the kindling of hatreds arose to such a degree that each attempted to usurp the royal power of the other. Wherefore Godepert sent Garipald duke of Turin to Grimoald who was then the enterprising leader of the people of Benevento, inviting him to come as soon as possible and bring aid against his brother Perctarit […] but the ambassador acting treacherously against his master exhorted 65 The career of Droctulft is illustrative here. Waitz, MGH SrL, pp. 101-3; Foulke, History of the Lombards, pp. 118-20; Capo, Storia dei Longobardi, pp. 146-51; For Lombard-Byzantine relationships see Walter Pohl, ‘The Empire & the Lombards: treaties & negotiations in the Sixth Century’ in Walter Pohl (ed.), Kingdoms of the Empire: The Integration of Barbarians in Late Antiquity (Leiden, 1997), pp. 75-133. 66 For commentary see Caggese, L’Alto Medioevo, p. 165 describes an ‘implacabile discordia’ but depends (as we all do) upon Paul’s narrative. Waitz, MGH SrL, p. 138; Foulke, History of the Lombards, p. 205; Capo, Storia dei Longobardi, pp. 234-5

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Grimoald to come and himself seize the kingdom of the Langobards which the two youthful brothers were dissipating since he was ripe in age, prudent in counsel and strong in resources.67

In his ultimately successful replacement of both brothers, their supplanter, Grimoald (662-71) gathered support from his own power base in Benevento and also from both Spoleto and Tuscia before his arrival in Pavia.68 The pathway to his predominance was facilitated by a member of the aulic elite who conspired to cause the death of Godepert and also to trigger the replacement of both brothers.69 Subsequently two comments in the narrative of Paul are worth particular emphasis for how they shed light on the opaque processes behind the assumption of kingship. First, when Perctarit returns to Pavia after the assurance of safe conduct by Grimoald, we are told that he was greeted by ‘throngs of the citizens of Ticinum’ who ‘began to gather around him and salute him as an old acquaintance’.70 Second, after his surreptitious evasion of Grimoald which forms the central focus of Paul’s account, Perctarit enters the city of Asti ‘in which the friends of Perctarit were staying and those who were still rebels against Grimoald’.71 What should we make of this account? We should, of course, strike a note of caution. Paul writes at some point in the 790s and although he may have first encountered oral traditions in Pavia in the 740s/750s, this is still at the very best two generations removed from 67 ‘Igitur Aripert, postquam aput Ticinum per annos novem Langobardos rexerat, diem obiens, regnum duobus filiis suis adhuc adulescentibus Perctarit et Godeperto regendum reliquit. Et Godepert quidem Ticini sedem regni habuit, Perctarit vero in civitate Mediolanensi. Inter quos fratres, facientibus malignis hominibus, discordiae et odiorum fomes surrexit in tantum, ut alter alterius regnum invadere conaretur. Qua de re Godepertus Garipaldum Taurinatium ducem ad Grimuald Beneventanorum strenuum tunc ductorem direxit, invitans eum, ut quantocius veniret et sibi adversus germanum suum Perctarit auxilium ferret, regisque filiam, suam germanam, ei se daturum promittens. Sed legatus ipse fraudulenter contra suum dominum agens, Grimualdum exhortatus est, ut veniret et Langobardorum regnum, quod adulescentes germani dissipabant, ipse arriperet, qui aetate maturus, consilio providus et viribus fortis existeret’. Waitz, MGH SrL, p. 138; Foulke, History of the Lombards, pp. 205-6; Capo, Storia dei Longobardi, pp. 234-5. 68 For Grimoald prior to kingship see Andrea Bedina, ‘Grimoaldo’ in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani (Roma: Istituto dell’Enciclopedia Italiana, 2000), pp. 668-71. 69 For Garipald see Stefano Gasparri, I Duchi Longobardi (Roma: Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo, 1978), p. 56. 70 Waitz, MGH SrL, p. 143; Foulke, History of the Lombards, pp. 210-1; Capo, Storia dei Longobardi, pp. 248-9. 71 Waitz, MGH SrL, p. 143; Foulke, History of the Lombards, pp. 210-1; Capo, Storia dei Longobardi, pp. 248-9.

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the events he portrays.72 Paul’s narrative tells us more about his responses to events than it provides any certain verisimilitude of the activities of those he discusses.73 Yet, there are still elements of his observations about the removal of Perctarit as king that should arouse our interest. Paul’s reference to the ‘instigation of evil men’ ( facientibus malignis hominibus) at the heart of the original dispute between the two brothers is a remembrance of the link between the tensions of coercion, chance and change at play in any polity at any time.74 This interplay where rival power centres were involved resulted in violence to restore a balance to the kingship and even though the removal of the brothers was conducted by an external ruler (i.e. Grimoald), the assistance of the palatial nobility allowed Grimoald to acquire the kingdom without there being a longer-term impact upon the structural strength or integrity of the regnum. Finally, as noted above, the activities of intermediaries were significant. Kings may seek to control events and to appropriate tools of legitimate violence for their own purposes, but individuals who are at the centre of power are still able to orchestrate unexpected change. Here then we have what was initially a covert intra-familial plot to remove a rival that through the actions of Garipald becomes a violent usurpation. Grimoald’s actions thereafter, i.e. his wish to dispose of Perctarit and his relentless pursuit of him in exile demonstrate that Lombard kings could not function effectively with possible rivals in proximity. On the basis of Paul’s lengthy discussion alone it is evident that violent activity in support of kingship remained a central feature of Lombard history. Our third brief case study concerns Liutprand who was the subject of a significant homage in the final chapter of the HL (VI: 58).75 His rule provides a useful contrast to both Alboin and Perctarit and Paul’s discussion of his earlier activities allows us to consider the quotidian realities of eighth-century Lombard kingship. Do we encounter similar violent pressures at this point in the regnum’s existence? To answer this question, we are assisted by more than simply narrative material. But one should nonetheless still exercise 72 See Shami Ghosh, Writing the Barbarian Past: Studies in Early Medieval Historical Narrative (Leiden: Brill, 2016), pp. 121-40; Walter Goffart, The Narrators of Barbarian History (550-800): Jordanes, Gregory of Tours, Bede and Paul the Deacon (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1988), p. 381 & pp. 427-8; Heath, The Narrative Worlds of Paul the Deacon, pp. 127-30, and Ausenda et alii, The Langobards, p. 115. 73 Goffart, The Narrators of Barbarian History, p. 407. 74 Waitz, MGH SrL, p. 138; Foulke, History of the Lombards, p. 205; Capo, Storia dei Longobardi, pp. 234-5 75 Rosamond McKitterick, History and Memory in the Carolingian World (Cambridge: CUP, 2004), p. 71; and, Heath, The Narrative Worlds of Paul the Deacon, pp. 250-2.

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caution. It would seem, however, that violence remained a key component of Liutprand’s activities and experiences, notwithstanding his systematic efforts to emphasise his authority through charters and regular additions to the corpus of Lombard law.76 The immediate context to his assumption of rule in 712 was rather unpromising in terms of stability. His kingship arose as a result of first, the overthrow of Aripert II (701-12); and, secondly, the death of his father Ansprand (712) who had been at the centre of events from the time of Liutpert I (701-2) onwards and had been instrumental in the violent overthrow of Aripert II. Even so, the immediate installation of Liutprand had occurred ‘when the Langobards became aware of his (i.e. Ansprand’s) approaching death’.77 This is another indication of a shadowy selection and approval process that would seem to circumscribe the need for overt violence to ensure control.78 This selection, in some measure, appears to have been influenced by a rather weak dynastic principle.79 In turn Liutprand was also briefly succeeded by his nephew Hildeprand, who had been previously associated into the kingship when it was apparently thought that Liutprand would expire from natural causes in 737.80 Two rather short accounts, however, which are included in the HL, are indicative of the difficulties that even effective rulers continued to experience. The first episode that Paul reports concerns the attempt of a certain Rothari, ‘a blood relative’ of Liutprand ‘who wished to kill him’.81 Paul notes with approval the ‘boldness’ of Liutprand in confronting Rothari personally at a banquet to which he had been invited.82 The presentation of this episode by Paul begs more questions than it answers. No doubt the main protagonist, Rothari had formulated his plan before Liutprand could become safely entrenched 76 Nick Everett, Literacy in Lombard Italy c.568-774 (Cambridge: CUP, 2003), pp. 194-6; and Azzara and Gasparri, Le leggi, pp. lii-lvi. 77 For Ansprand, see Waitz, MGH SrL, pp. 176-7; Foulke, History of the Lombards, p. 279; Capo, Paolo Diacono, pp. 338-9. 78 Waitz, MGH SrL, p. 279; Foulke, History of the Lombards, pp. 176-7; Capo, Paolo Diacono, pp. 336-9. 79 This was evident with both Perctarit and his brother in 661 but also operated with the son of Grimoald in 671 and later with Liutpert in 700, the son of Cunincpert. See Paolo Delogu, ‘Kingship and the Shaping of the Lombard Body Politic’ in Ausenda et alii, The Langobards, pp. 263-4. 80 Caggese, L’Alto Medioevo, p.209; Wilhelm Martens, Politische Geschichte des Langobardenreichs unter König Liutprand (Heidelberg: J. Hörning, 1880), pp. 60-2; Waitz, MGH SrL, p. 184; Foulke, History of the Lombards, pp. 300-1; Capo, Paolo Diacono, pp. 356-7 and p. 603. 81 Waitz, MGH SrL, p. 178; Foulke, History of the Lombards, p. 281; Capo, Storia dei Longobardi, pp. 340-1. 82 Ausenda et alii, The Langobards, p. 112: ‘[A] member of Liutprand’s family who wants to murder the king is able to hold a banquet in his own house in Pavia and invite the king and conceal in it some armed men’.

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in his rule. But his preparations were insufficient to prevent report of his plans reaching Liutprand who confronted him personally and directly. After the death of Rothari ‘four of his sons […] who were not present were also put to death in the places where they were found’.83 It is a short notice interposed into the narrative to emphasise the effectiveness of Liutprand, but it continues to demonstrate to us the personal nature of rulership, and the visceral, violent resolution of dispute using directed violence to counter covert plots to replace one king with another. Equally instructive is the second short reference to Liutprand’s ability to intervene to safeguard his own rule. In this short notice, presented directly after the first (i.e. in the same chapter) Liutprand compelled two of his armour-bearers to confess their plot to kill him and replace him as king. ‘Nevertheless’ states Paul ‘he presently pardoned those who confessed even a crime of such great wickedness’.84 Paul does not tell us who it was that reported this plot or indeed who or what may have prompted these un-named individuals to conspire to cause the king’s death. Paul concludes with the observation that ‘he (i.e. Liutprand) also did this thing in like manner with others’.85 The perception one may gather from Paul’s appreciation of the king set out at the end of the work rather obscures these notices and the implication they impart. Notwithstanding Liutprand’s success these notices demonstrate that he continued to face up to the challenge of violent overthrow. On the palatial scale, in the sedes regia of Pavia there are clear indications that Liutprand faced down the same sort of targeted violence within the aulic sphere. On the broader level, however, in concert with the sort of activities undertaken by Charles Martel and the Carolingians north of the Alps in bringing the autonomous Teilreiche into direct control, Liutprand embarked upon a sustained campaign to bring both Spoleto and Benevento within the orbit of tighter direct control from Pavia. Inevitably this involved violent activity on his part. Finally, it is important to recall Paul the Deacon’s emphasis upon the importance of keeping peace with both the Franks and the Avars.86 83 Waitz, MGH SrL, p. 178; Foulke, History of the Lombards, p. 281; Capo, Storia dei Longobardi, pp. 340-1. 84 Waitz, MGH SrL, pp. 176-7; Foulke, History of the Lombards, pp. 281-2; Capo, Storia dei Longobardi, pp. 340-1. 85 Waitz, MGH SrL, p. 178; Foulke, History of the Lombards, p. 282; Capo, Storia dei Longobardi, pp. 340-1. 86 Waitz, MGH SrL, p. 187; Foulke, History of the Lombards, pp. 306-8; Capo, Storia dei Longobardi, pp. 362-5. Paolo Delogu, ‘Kingship and the Shaping of the Lombard Body Politic’ in Ausenda et alii, The Langobards, p. 269 and Kershaw, Peaceful Kings for general discussion and in particular, pp. 23-8 and pp. 132-57 which whilst not directly pertinent to Lombard Italy discuss the value of peace in this period.

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Through these short case-studies we have seen that our sources do not provide a satisfactory picture of Lombard kingship and how such kingship was moulded, affected and re-shaped by violence. Whilst anecdotal material, found principally in the HL, allows occasional access to the opaque mechanisms that operated at the centre, for large periods of the kingdom’s existence we are denied an effective commentary on the quotidian activities of the kings in Pavia. While we are informed of the deaths of kings and occasionally the contexts that led to their demise, we are rarely given insight into the motivations of protagonists or their motivation to undertake action and effect change. Narrative material can at least demonstrate that the constraint of law failed to restrain political violence. In considering in detail the responses and results of violence at the centre of the Lombard kingdom we may conclude that targeted political violence remained a significant feature of the kingdom. The balance between threat and coercion between ruler and ruled theoretically remained tilted in the favour of kings, but their ‘efficiency’ remained to be judged and tested both by the elite at the centre and by powerful vested local interests oriented around the dukes. When violence did occur, it shaped and moulded the political community of the kingdom, but consensus would seem to have remained a vital feature of the ‘sinews’ that bound the kingdom together. The success of these features allowed the Franks after 774 to retain the core structures of the kingdom and to use a consensus to marginalise opposition and to face down and defeat Hrodgaud of Friuli in 775-6. The murder of kings in the two centuries of Lombard rule in northern and central Italy had a significant impact upon the course of the articulation of power. A concentration on the liminal moments between the murder and death of one king and the assumption to rule of another allows us a glimpse into the murky world of consent, cohesion and control between those who would be kings on the one hand and, on the other, those who would support or oppose such kingship. These individuals formed the political community of the regnum and refracted the power of the Lombard kings into their own localities. However, the sinews that bound individuals together remain opaque.87 That said, what can be evidenced post-584 was an increasingly cohesive entity that managed both violence and instability at the centre by processes that smoothed chaotic impulses released by the competition for priority. Cohesion was attained by a layered synthesis between ruler and ruled, centre and periphery that stood the Regnum Langobardorum and its Carolingian successor the Regnum Italicarum in good stead for most of its existence. 87 See Paolo Delogu, ‘Lombard and Carolingian Italy’ in McKitterick (ed.), New Cambridge Medieval History, pp. 290-4.

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Bibliography Primary Sources E. Dümmler (ed.), MGH: Epistolae Merowingici et Karolini Aevi; (Tomus I) (Berlin: Weidmann, 1897). Gregory the Great, Dialogorum Libri IV in J.P. Migne (ed.) PL (Paris: J.P. Migne, 1861). Paul the Deacon, Historia Langobardorum, ed. Georg Waitz, MGH SrL (Hannover: Hahn, 1878), pp. 12-192; William Dudley Foulke, History of the Lombards. With explanatory and critical notes, a biography of the author, and an account of the sources of the history (New York: Longmans, Green & Co., 1907); Lidia Capo, Paolo Diacono: Storia dei Longobardi (Vicenza: Viella, 1992). Georg Pertz (ed.), MGH: Legum [Tomus IV] [Hannover: Hahniani, 1858]; Claudio Azzara and Stefano Gasparri (eds.), Le leggi dei Longobardi: Storia, memoria e diritto di un popolo germanico (Roma: Viella, 2005); Katherine Fischer Drew, The Lombard Laws (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1973). Prokopios: The Wars, F.W. Shipley (ed.) (London: Loeb, 1928).

Secondary Sources Adair, E.R., William Thomas: A Forgotten Clerk of the Privy Council (Tudor Studies) (London: Longmans, Green & Co, 1924). Ausenda, Giorgio Paolo Delogu and Chris Wickham (eds.), The Langobards before the Frankish Conquest: An Ethnographic Perspective (Woodbridge, Boydell, 2009). Balzaretti, Ross, ‘Theodolinda, Most Glorious Queen: Gender & Power in Lombard Italy’, Medieval History Journal 2(2) (1999), pp. 183-207. Bedina, Bedina, ‘Grimoaldo’ in DBI (Roma: Istituto dell’Enciclopedia Italiana, 2000), pp. 668-71. Bertolini, Paolo, ‘Clefi’ in DBI (Roma: Istituto dell’Enciclopedia Italiana, 1982), pp.174-8. Bognetti, Gian Piero, ‘Longobardi e Romani’ in L’Età Longobarda Vol. I [Milano: Giuffrè, 1966], pp. 83-141. Borri, Francesco, ‘Murder by Death: Alboin’s Life, End(s), and Means’, Millennium. Jahrbuch zu Kultur und Geschichte des ersten Jahrtausends n. Chr. 8 (2011), pp. 223-70. Brown, Thomas S., Gentlemen and Officers: Imperial Administration and Aristocratic Power in Byzantine Italy 554-800 (Hertford: British School at Rome, 1984). Brown, Thomas S., ‘Byzantine Italy c.680-c.876’ in R. McKitterick (ed.), New Cambridge Medieval History c.700-c.900 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), pp. 320-48.

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Brown, Warren C., Violence in Medieval Europe (Harlow: Pearson, 2011). Caggese, Romolo, L’Alto Medioevo (Torino: Tipografia Sociale Torino, 1937). Christie, Neil, From Constantine to Charlemagne: An Archaeology of Italy 300-800 (Farnham: Ashgate, 2006). Davies, Richard G., ‘The Church and the Wars of the Roses’ in A.J. Pollard (ed.), The Wars of the Roses (Basingstoke: McMillan, 1995), pp. 143-61. Deliyannis, Deborah Mauskopf, Ravenna in Late Antiquity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010). Delogu, Paolo, ‘Lombard and Carolingian Italy’ in Rosamond McKitterick (ed.), New Cambridge Medieval History: Vol II c.750-950 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995) pp. 290-319. Dick, Stefanie, ‘Langobardi per annos decem regem non habentes sub ducibus fuerunt: Formen und Entwicklung der Herrschaftsorganisation bei den Langobarden: Eine Skizzip’ in Walter Pohl and Peter Erhart (eds.), Die Langobarden: Herrschaft und Identitat (Wien: Österreichischen Akademie, 2005), pp. 335-44. Everett, Nicholas, Literacy in Lombard Italy c.568-774 [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003]. Gasparri, Stefano, I Duchi Longobardi (Roma: Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo, 1978). Gasparri, Stefano Italia Longobarda: Il Regno, I Franchi, il Papato (Roma: Laterza, 2012). Goffart, Walter, The Narrators of Barbarian History 550-800: Jordanes, Gregory of Tours, Bede and Paul the Deacon (Notre Dame, Indiana: University of Notre Dame Press, 2005). Ghosh, Shami, Writing the Barbarian Past: Studies in Early Medieval Historical Narrative (Leiden: Brill, 2016). Halsall, Guy (ed.), Violence and Society in the Early Medieval West (Woodbridge, Boydell, 1998). Halsall, Guy, Warfare and Society in the Barbarian West 450-900 (Abingdon: Routledge, 2003). Hartmann, Ludwig, ‘Italy under the Lombards’ in H.M. Gwatkin and J.P. Whitney (eds.), Cambridge Medieval History: Volume II: The Rise of the Saracens and the Foundation of the Western Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1936), pp. 194-221. Heath, Christopher, The Narrative Worlds of Paul the Deacon: Between Empires and Identities in Lombard Italy (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2017). Hodgkin, Thomas, Italy and her Invaders: Volume V: The Lombard Invasions 553-600 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1895). King, P.D., Charlemagne: Translated Sources (Kendal: P.D. King, 1987). Kingsley, Charles, The Roman and the Teuton: A Series of Lectures (London: McMillan & Co, 1891).

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Leyser, Conrad, Authority and Asceticism from Augustine to Gregory the Great (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2000). McKitterick, Rosamond, History and Memory in the Carolingian World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004). Malešević, S., ‘Collective Violence and Power’ in Cleag, The Sage Handbook of Power, pp. 266-82 Malešević, S., ‘Violence’ in Bryan S. Turner (ed.), Wiley Blackwell Encyclopaedia of Social Theory (London: John Wiley, 2017). Mann, H.K., The Lives of the Popes Vol.I Part I: The Popes under Lombard Rule (London: B. Herder, 1914), Markus, R.A., Gregory the Great and his World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997). Martens, Wilhelm, Politische Geschichte des Langobardenreichs unter König Liutprand (Heidelberg: J. Hörning, 1880). Parks, George B. (ed.), William Thomas: The History of Italy (New York: Cornell University Press, 1963). Pohl, Walter. ‘The Empire & the Lombards: Treaties & Negotiations in the Sixth Century’ in Walter Pohl (ed.), Kingdoms of the Empire: The Integration of Barbarians in Late Antiquity (Leiden: Brill 1997), pp. 75-133. Pohl, Walter, ‘Invasions and Ethnic Identity’ in C. La Rocca (ed.), Italy in the Early Middle Ages 476-1000 (Oxford, Oxford University Press, 2002), pp.11-33. Tabacco, Giovanni, The Struggle for Power in Medieval Italy: Structures of Political Rule (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989). Thomas, William, The Historye of Italie a boke excedyng profitable to be redde because it intreateth of the astate of many and diuers common weales, how thei haue ben, [and] now be gouerned (London: Thomas Berthelet, 1549). Wickham, Chris, Framing the Early Middle Ages: Europe and the Mediterranean 400-800 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005). Wood, Ian, The Modern Origins of the Early Middle Ages (Oxford, Oxford University Press, 2015).

About the Author Christopher Heath teaches at Manchester Metropolitan University. His interests include historiography, and socio-economic and religious change between 450 and 950. His monograph The Narrative Worlds of Paul the Deacon was published in 2017 by AUP. Currently he is working on a study of the Lombard King Liutprand.

3

Insurgency and Counterinsurgency in Lombard Italy (c600-700)* Guido M. Berndt

Abstract The purpose of this chapter is to examine cases of insurgency and counterinsurgency in roughly the first half of the Lombard’s dominion in Italy. The lack of a sustainable system of royal succession was a crucial factor for the trend to take power by a coup d’état. Italy was not only divided by its physical geography, but also by various powerful actors with different aims. The enduring rebellions of the sixth- and seventh centuries have traditionally been taken as an indication of a general weakness of Lombard royal power. Incidences of insurgency and the measures against them can be repeatedly observed and studied to comprehend the frequency and subsequently find new ways to understand the history of this militarised society. Keywords: Lombards, Lombard Italy, violence, rebellion, insurgency and counter-insurgency, Lombard kings and duces.

* There are a couple of suff icient overviews covering the entire Lombard history, e.g. Jarnut, Geschichte; Christie, Lombards. Wickham, Early Medieval Italy, p. 29 states: ‘Lombard historiography consists, far more than in any other period of Italian history, of a minef ield of opposing theories by modern historians. Almost every conceivable contrasting interpretation of the late sixth and seventh centuries has been posed by some historian of the last 150 years.’

Heath, C. and R. Houghton (eds.), Conflict and Violence in Medieval Italy 568-1154. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press 2022 doi: 10.5117/9789462985179_ch03

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One of the common features frequently claimed in modern historiography 1 is that the Lombard state2 was a comparatively weak one, and that the reasons for this weakness are to be found in the selfish interests of the powerful Lombard duces. These dukes were aristocrats and office holders, in charge of armies and responsible for the defence of the kingdom.3 Nonetheless, they frequently tried to enlarge their own power and territories at the expense of either other magnates or the king. 4 To achieve their goals they did not even hesitate to defect to the Lombard’s enemies.5 Both externally and internally, the interests of the Lombard kingdom could only be secured through the maintenance of strong armies. Leadership of these troops fell in the sphere of responsibility of either the king or the duces or gastaldi.6 Ruling Lombard Italy therefore, demanded that one deal with the interwoven interests of all involved and powerful magnates on the one hand, and to secure the territory against foreign enemies on the other. Furthermore, the presence of Byzantine administration and military promoted insurgencies by paying and supporting ambitious Lombard lords who were willing to change sides for their own benefit. The entanglement of different players on Italian territory was even broader as there were also Frankish and Papal intentions to gain as much power in Italy as possible. In a recent article Paul Fouracre states: ‘The incidence of rebellion in the early medieval west was strikingly low’.7 Concerning Lombard Italy, he then specifies: ‘In the Lombard kingdom […] rebellion may have been relatively

1 This article has been written during a project on ‘The Militarisation of Early Medieval Societies: Nature, Control and Perception in a West-European Comparison’, which started in 2016 at the FU Berlin. It is funded by the Fritz Thyssen Stiftung (Cologne). I would like to thank Christopher Heath for the kind invitation to contribute a chapter to this volume. My thanks also go to Stefan Esders for his suggestions and to Ellora Bennett for help with the English. Abbrevitions: HL = Paul the Deacon, Historia Langobardorum; MGH = Monumenta Germaniae Historica; OGL = Origo Gentis Langobardorum; PLRE = Prosopography of the Later Roman Empire. 2 There is an ongoing debate over whether there were states in the early Middle Ages at all. See Jarnut, ‘Der langobardische Staat’; Harrison, The Early State. 3 Gasparri, I duchi langobardi. 4 For this claim and a critical response to it see Wickham, Early Medieval Italy, pp. 37-9. 5 Borri, ‘Duces e magistri militum’, p. 29: ‘Questi duces longobardi che combattevano per l’impero sono difficilmente inquadrabili, ma rendono molto bene l’idea del frazionamento politico che la Langobardia subì fino al VI secolo e che trova un parallelo con quella della Romània. Spesso questi duces si resero di fatto autonomi combattendo per il miglior offerente.’ See also Priester. Geschichte, pp. 79-81. 6 Sometimes summarized as iudices, as visible in the leges and some charters. Mor, ‘I gastaldi con potere ducale’. 7 Fouracre, p. 105.

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rare’.8 Taking into account that there are only a few instances in the Historia Langobardorum that are explicitly described with the term rebellio, this assertion is certainly correct.9 However, in order to gain an overall impression of how Lombard kingship was threatened by the magnates, it is necessary to also look for other terms and formulations in the sources that have been used by contemporary authors to describe these attempts. In view of the fact that there is no encompassing Latin term for all upheavals and the responses to them, for this chapter the more or less modern borrowing ‘insurgency’ and ‘counter-insurgency’ will be used.10 The Latin term insurgere11 generally means ‘to rise up (against)’ and can be traced from the first century BCE.12 Seemingly, this term carries a strong military connotation in the sense of armed revolt or rebellion.13 The purpose here is to examine documented cases in roughly the first half of the Lombards’ dominion in Italy. After the Gothic War, and the short period of Byzantine control, the whole Italian peninsula fragmented into different regions over the course of the Lombard invasion and their subsequent conquests. Other powers, namely the Byzantines with the exarchate of Ravenna, and the Pope in Rome, were able to hold parts of the territory. This was as much a problem for the Lombard kings attempting to expand their authority as it was for the emperors at Constantinople trying to secure their claims in Italy. And there was another party involved: the Franks who denied the Lombards the opportunity to rule the entire Italian 8 Fouracre, p. 120. His restriction on cases that Paul the Deacon explicitly calls rebelliones narrows the picture of the frequency of turbulences in Lombard Italy caused by striving aristocrats. 9 HL 4.3 (Gaidulf against Agilulf, Ulfari against Ago [= Agilulf]); 4.13 (Zangrulf against Ago), 5.2 (followers of Perctarit against Grimoald), 5.18 (Lupus against Grimoald); 5.36 (Alahis against Perctarit), 6.3 (Ansfrit against Cunincpert), and 6.55 (Transamund against Liutprand). Some of this evidences has been overlooked in Fouracre’s account. In 4.23, the term rebellare is used for the resistance of the citizens of Padua against Aigulf’s attempt to take their city by force. Gothic rebellions in 2.2 (Widin against Narses), 2.3 (Sindual against Narses), and another case is 4.36 (the exarch of Africa, Heraclianos, against Emperor Phokas). 10 Therefore, these terms stand for the uprisings against a legitimate ruler and the arrangements undertaken to fight them. 11 It is found four times in Paul the Deacon’s HL: 1.26 (in a metaphorical sense in a poem Paul devoted to Benedict of Nursia, founder of the monastery Monte Cassino), 6.13, 6.34, and 6.55 (here in the meaning of ‘to rise against’). 12 The earliest evidence seems to be Vergil, Aeneid 3.207: ‘uela cadunt, remis insurgimus.’ Of course, there are more meanings depending on the specific context in which the word is used. Geggie, ‘To Ryse’ deals with the usage of the term from Antiquity to modern times. See also Powers, ‘Irregular War as ‘insurgency’. 13 Brice, ‘Insurgency and Terrorism’, pp. 8-12. There he also presents different modern definitions of ‘insurgency’.

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peninsula. Furthermore, the founding of two largely independent duchies in the south, Spoleto and Benevento, was an additional limitation on the power of the royal court.14 One serious consequence of these circumstances was that a considerable number of powerful duces were constantly engaged in military and political activities against both external enemies and internal rivals.15 The reasons for some of these shifts of loyalty and insurgencies are not always clear, but they may have been reactions to a king’s inability to satisfy aspirations of members of the so-called military aristocracy. The specific character of this military aristocracy, as with almost all aspects of Lombard history, has long been a topic of contentious debate. As the amount of available written sources is limited, reaching a consensus seems almost impossible. In fact, there are only a few sources for the period under consideration. This paucity makes it difficult to provide coherent interpretations. In the absence of other evidence, historians have tended to follow the only surviving lengthy narrative source. This is the ‘Lombard History’ written at the very end of the eighth century by Paul the Deacon (c.735-c.796), a Lombard from Cividale del Friuli.16 At the time he composed his Historia, he was a Benedictine monk in the famous monastery of Montecassino, dealing not only with religious themes, but also historiography.17 His Historia Langobardorum generally dealt with the origins of the Lombards, their migrations, their settlement in Italy, and the deeds of their kings up to the death of Liutprand (d. 744). There is some anecdotal material in the Historia that reveals the character of the Lombards to distinguish them from other peoples, be them Franks, Byzantines or Romans. As Paul devoted much space to the kings and duces, it might be assumed that the art of ruling was one major theme of his Historia.18 The king was undoubtedly the head of all people living in his territory. He was responsible for the 14 This independency is proven by the fact that both the duchies of Spoleto and Benevento for much of the seventh century issued their own diplomata; in the late seventh century, the Beneventan duces even issued their own coinage. See Wroth, Catalogue, pp. LXI-LXVIII. 15 Barnwell, Kings, p. 91. 16 With the writing of the Historia Langobardorum, Paul the Deacon apparently strove to strengthen the legitimacy of Beneventan independence from the Carolingians. See Krüger, ‘Zur ‘beneventanischen’ Konzeption’. See also McKitterick, History and Memory in the Carolingian World, pp. 66-86. 17 Besides the HL he also wrote a Historia Romana (sometime between 766/774) at the instigation of Adelperga, wife of Arichis II, dux of Benevento. For an enumeration of all his works see Valtorta, Clavis Scriptorum, pp. 196-219. Fundamental is Pohl, Werkstätte der Erinnerung. 18 It is not clear why the Historia closes with the year 744. One possibility would be that Paul died before completing his work, maybe with the aspired terminus 774 (the Carolingian take-over

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conduct of war, acted as judge and, starting with Rothari,19 was also the prime legislative authority. The duces were regional leaders, mainly based in civitates, and expected to support the king with troops and advice.20 Remarkably, it was not compulsory to be of Lombard origin. Agilulf, dux of Turin, and later rex, had Thuringian ancestors.21 Droctulf, a Sueve by birth, was deported to the Lombard kingdom as a prisoner of war in his childhood and became dux of Brescello. Paul dedicated an entire section to his noteworthy career (see below). More than once, these dukes challenged royal power both in their own regions and, at times, in parts of northern Italy, where the heartland of Lombard power had been since the days of the invasion. Apparently, Paul seems to have accepted rebellion, insurgency and the interconnected governmental weakness as a characteristic feature of Lombard Italy. While Paul evidently recognises the significance of the king and his court at Pavia as the centre of the regnum, he also perceived that most of the time the reges were unable to exercise direct control over their own territories, not to mention the whole Italian Peninsula. Be this as it may, the numerous episodes of uprisings cannot simply be used as a kind of quarry for supposed historical facts. Rather, the whole work should be analysed for its narrative structure. Similarly, to the Frankish Fredegar,22 Paul is primarily a storyteller.23 One of Paul’s basic concerns was oath-taking and perjury, and the question of what happens when oaths were broken. To achieve this, Paul records noteworthy events, often dividing the protagonists into a ‘black-and-white’ scheme. In addition to Paul’s Historia, there are some further contemporary sources. For example, the anonymous Origo gentis Langobardorum which was passed down as a prelude to the leges Langobardorum.24 This short text, an explanatory note to the so-called royal catalogue of the Edictum Rothari, is essentially a sequence of military successes of the Lombards, as well as a genealogy of its leaders and kings. 25 Another important source are the letters of Pope Gregory the Great (590-604) that frequently of Italy). Another one would be that he intentionally ended it with the death of King Liutprand (712-744). 19 See the seminal study: Meyer, ‘König Rothari begründet seine Gesetze’. 20 Beyond any doubt, this office has Roman roots. Gasparri, I duchi longobardi, pp. 8-10 once and for all proved that there are no ‘Germanic’ traditions connected to it. 21 Jarnut, ‘Thüringer und Langobarden’, p. 285-7. 22 Wood, ‘Fredegar’s Fables’; Fischer, ‘Rewriting History’. 23 Goffart, The Narrators of Barbarian History, chapter V. See also Haubrichs, ‘Die ‚Erzählung des Helden‘’ with analysis of three examples for heroic passages. 24 The eldest surviving written version stems from the reign of King Perctarit (672-88). 25 Schmidt, ‘Paulus Diaconus, die Origo gentis Langobardorum’; Haubrichs, ‘Von der Unendlichkeit der Ursprünge‘.

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deal with the perils of the Lombard invasion and expansion in Italy. 26 Likewise, a collection of letters (the Epistulae Austrasicae) compiled in the early ninth century from material originally kept in an Austrasian archive (maybe at Metz) provides insights into the crucial years at the end of the sixth century.27 Some of them hint at the Frankish perspective on Lombard affairs as, of course, is also presented in the Decem libri Historiarum of Gregory of Tours and the so-called Fredegar-Chronicle with its continuations.28

Lombards Entering Italy The Lombard invasion of Italy has frequently been interpreted as the final stage of the so-called Barbarian Migrations. The migration from Pannonia to Italy under the leadership of Alboin (c.560-572) stands at the centre of the second book of Paul’s Historia Langobardorum, which also describes his attempts to establish royal rule and his assassination at the behest of his wife Rosamund. Alboin seems to have kept the main body of his army and people under control, but there were also some signs of discord between 568 and 572, the date of his murder. This inherent disunity of the Lombards was already apparent in the army that Alboin led into Italy. In 569, Alboin proceeded slowly and seemingly without serious military opposition across the Po plain, but was faced with strong resistance at Pavia. 29 During the occupation, lasting more than three years, some Lombard leaders left Alboin and conquered Italian territories further south of the peninsula, namely in Spoleto and Benevento.30 This desertion surely weakened Alboin’s army and delayed the progress of conquering the northern territories. At the same time, contingents of marauding Lombards began to cross the Alps into Frankish Burgundy.31 Notwithstanding the hard-won success after the capture of Pavia it seems that Verona was the f irst Lombard 26 Gregory (with few exceptions) is hostile against the Lombards, naming them repeatedly a gens nefandissimi. See Azzara, ‘Gregorio Magno, i Longobardi’. 27 Gundlach, ‘Sammlung’. There is no consensus about the date of all letters in the collection. It is not possible to summarise the debates here. The latest contribution is Barrett and George Woudhuysen, ‘Assembling the Austrasian Letters’. 28 Pohl, ‘Gregory of Tours and Contemporary Perceptions of Lombard Italy’; Loseby, ‘Gregory of Tours, Italy, and the Empire’. 29 HL 2.26. 30 Wickham, Framing the Early Middle Ages, p. 35; Brown, Gentlemen and Officers, pp. 70-3. 31 Gregory of Tours, Decem Libri Historiarum 4.44.

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capital. In any case, it is the only place at which Alboin is known to have resided. Several reasons – strategic and symbolic – may be considered for this choice.32 In all major towns conquered, Alboin installed a dux. The f irst reported case is his nephew Gisulf in Cividale del Friuli, who had served his uncle as a ‘master of the horse’ (‘strator erat, quem lingua propria marpahis appelant’). Strikingly, Gisulf imposed conditions before taking the office. He claimed the right to choose contingents (‘farae’) to stay with him, as well as some valuable horses.33 Therefore, it seems that Alboin was not able to simply order his nephew to accept this office but had to negotiate on this matter. Gisulf was instructed with the defence of the Friulan territories and of the Julian Alps. Evidently, Alboin, the much-sung hero of Lombard history, never enjoyed unchallenged leadership on Italian soil.34 And Lombard unity remained an illusion. In 572 internal discord – possibly encouraged by the Byzantines – led to the assassination of Alboin at Verona.35 This episode, with its well-known gruesome details, has always attracted historians as well as novelists.36 Particularly, the later transformations and legendary embellishments illustrate how carefully historians must be in the reconstruction or interpretation of the events of those years.37 There are two noteworthy aspects in the story: First, Rosamund, of course, did not act alone but relied on the help of Lombards serving at the court of Pavia, who were willing to plot against their king.38 Rosamund married her accomplice Helmechis, who tried to usurp the throne, perhaps on the assumption that the marriage would prove his legitimacy. The assassins’ usurpation was unsuccessful, and they fled to the Romans at Ravenna. There, Rosamund continued to pursue her ambitions by trying to marry the prefect Longinus. Secondly, she took the Lombard treasure (‘omnem Langobardorum 32 Brogiolo, ‘Capitali e residenze regie nell’Italia longobarda’. 33 HL 2.9. 34 HL 1.27 emphasises Alboin’s martial qualities: ‘Alboin, virum bellis aptum et per omnia strenuum’ (‘a man fitted for wars and energetic in all things’) and: ‘Alboin vero ita preaclarum longe lateque nomen percrebuit, ut hactenus etiam […] sed et alios eiusdem linguae homines eius liberalitas et gloria bellorumque felicitas et virtus in eorum carminibus celebretur’ (‘But the name of Alboin was spread abroad far and wide, so illustrious that even up to this time his noble bearing and glory, the good fortunes of his wars and his courage are celebrated’). 35 Berndt, ‘Murder in the Palace’, pp. 42-4. 36 See Gschwantler, ‘Die Heldensage von Alboin und Rosimund’. 37 Borri, ‘Murder by Death’. 38 The motive of personal revenge is strong in the sources. However, Marius of Avenches in his Chronicle indicates that there was a considerable number of conspirators acting with agreement of the insulted queen, ad a. 572.

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thesaurum’) with her, but she and her supporters also kidnapped Alpsuinda, the daughter of Alboin.39 This act of violence prevented any Lombard magnate from marrying Alpsuinda with the intention to benefit from her noble ancestry. The loss of the treasure had serious consequences for the exercise of power of Alboin’s successor, Cleph. He lacked financial means to pay the warriors. This shortcoming was only remedied in 584, when the powerful dukes agreed to hand over large swathes of their own property to re-establish the royal estate. Not much is known about the reign of Cleph, but we might assume that he was at no time able to unify the Lombards under his rule. He was murdered by one of his followers after only a year and a half.40 Therefore, we might conclude, that the united exercitus created by Alboin for the purpose of the invasion, that included different warrior groups under the prestigious name of the Lombards, would prove unstable. Once they arrived in Italy, too many different interests clashed. In view of the already strong fragmentation of the Italian peninsula, this may not have been a good omen for a successful future for the Lombard kingdom. Their main opponents, the Franks in the West and the Byzantines, who still had considerable parts of Italian territory under their control, were unlikely to have helped this situation.

Insurgencies During the ‘Warlord-decade’ After the death of Cleph, the Lombard duces refused to elect a king for a whole decade. 41 Paul the Deacon reports that they were governed during this time by thirty-five dukes, though this number is certainly too high. He names only five explicitly, those of Pavia, Bergamo, Brescia, Trento, and Cividale. We might add Turin, Spoleto, and Benevento for certain, but can only guess at a handful of others. Many explanations for the interregnum have been offered. Bognetti suggested that the Lombard duces may have been 39 HL 2.29-30. For the significance of treasures in the Early Middle Ages see Hardt, Gold und Herrschaft. His analysis of the episode of Rosamund stealing the treasure, pp. 37-8. 40 HL 2.31. 41 HL 2.32. See Dick, ‘Langobardi per annos decem regem non habentes, sub ducibus fuerunt’. The ‘Copenhagen Continuator of Prosper’ reports twelve years: ‘Quo mortuo per XII ann. absque rege fuere Langobardi: tantummodo duces praeerant. Inter quos primus Zafan Ticinensium dux, qui Gallias aggredi conatus est et maximum robur Langobardorum super amnem Rodanum haut procul a loco Agaunen – sium martyrum, quem praecipue Mauricii martyris virtus illustrat, cum dedecore amisit et cum paucis, qui ex fuga remanserant, Italiam repetit.’ Thus, Zafan, who resided as dux in Pavia, was the most powerful military leader.

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bribed by the Byzantine authorities.42 The Byzantine chronicler Menander Protector writes that Emperor Tiberius II (574-82) paid 30,000 pounds of gold to the Franks to persuade them to fight against the Lombards, and that he also paid the Lombards to agree to a peace-treaty. 43 In 579, the same emperor is said to have sent money to Lombard dukes to get them to defect. In fact, some sources, particularly the letters of Gregory the Great, preserve the names of almost as many Lombards fighting for the Byzantines as against them. Lombard magnates repeatedly served in the Byzantine army, and some of them even rose to very high ranks. Guduin and Droctulf became hypostrategoi. Perugia had a Lombard commander, a man named Maurisio. He was killed when the warriors of Agiulf stormed the city. In the Chronicle of Fredegar another Lombard dux, Autharius, is mentioned.44 He is said to have submitted to the Byzantines in 584(?) and may be the same noble Auctarit 45 that is mentioned in a letter of Gregory the Great to John, bishop of Ravenna. 46 If we consider, first, Ariulf to be a Lombard name and, second, the name-bearer a man of Lombard origin, we would have another example of a Lombard military man fighting for the Byzantines. Ariulf is mentioned in the work of the Byzantine historian Theophylact Simocatta in an entry for the year 582 and is said to have fought in the battle at the river Nymphius. 47 In 590, the dukes of Parma, Reggio, and Piacenza, left the Lombard side and defected to the Byzantines.48 Subsequently, it may be assumed that these leaders mentioned in the sources (who each had a more or less extensive entourage) only represent the tip of the iceberg, and that numerous Lombards were engaged in Roman service. 49 Apart from all this evidence, it is worth mentioning that even in the period of the interregnum, it was at least once (575/6) possible to gather a Lombard exercitus that was able to repulse an attack of a Roman army successfully.50

42 Bognetti, ‘S. Maria di Castelseprio’, pp. 136-9. 43 Menander Protector, Hist. 22. 44 Fredegar, Chronicle 4.45, see PLRE III, p. 158. 45 PLRE III, p. 150. 46 Gregory the Great, ep. 2.45. 47 Theophylact Simocatta, Historia 1.9.7-8. The Romans lost against the Persians because of discord among their commanders. For Ariulf see PLRE III, p. 120 speculating that he was a magister militum (vacans). 48 Christou, Byzanz und die Langobarden, pp. 126-9. 49 This has serious consequences for the interpretation of supposed ‘Lombard’ weapons in Italy. I will deal with this problem in another study. 50 John of Biclaro, Chronicle ad a. 576.

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A letter preserved in the collection Epistulae Austrasicae reports that Gisulf II of Friuli (c.591-611), son of Grasulf, decided to follow another path than his father: We have indicated that when we were setting out to the besieged cities of Parma, Regia and Placentia where the Lombard dukes were established and in the city of Mantova they met us to put themselves under the Holy Republic. After this, we took them as slaves and taking their sons as hostages we returned to Ravenna resolving that later we would go into the province of Istria against our enemy Grasulf. Arriving in this province, duke Grisulf, vir magnificus, son of Grasulf, wishing to show himself better in his youth than his father, met us and with all piety to the Holy Republic with his nobles and entire army submitted, as it happened.51

This Grasulf, a brother of Alboin, had recently defected to the Byzantines, a clear sign that he left his brother sometime after the arrival of the Lombards in Italy. In 571, he once again fought for the Lombards before he died in the same year. In the letter, exarch Romanus expresses his hope that Gisulf would now do better than his father by staying loyal to the Byzantines. Even within the most noble Lombard families, we might assume, there was no consensus about the obligation to stay with the Lombard cause. That Grasulf was a dissident duke can be seen in another letter of the Austrasian collection. This one was written by Gogo, an advisor of king Childebert, to Grasulf sometime around 581.52 It shows that by means of paying money, Lombard dukes could be persuaded to fight against their own people: Select one course from two: either protect an area of the Republic and hold it as proper security or fulfil our expectations and then immediately the highest sum of money will be produced on completion of the agreement.53

The exact historical context of this Lombard-Frankish-Byzantine endeavour remains unclear, but it clearly demonstrates the relatively loose sense of belonging among the Lombards’ most important families in the time of the interregnum. 51 Epistulae Austrasiace 41 (Exarch Romanus to King Childebert II, written 590). See on this passage Pohl, ‘The Empire and the Lombards’, pp. 99-100. 52 Bachrach, Anatomy, pp. 155-9 dates it sometime between 578 and 581; Dumézil, ‘Gogo et ses amies’. 53 Epistulae Austriasiace 48 (From Gogo to Grasulf in the Name of the King).

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Droctulf of Brescello: From Lombard Dux to Byzantine Hypostrategos Another significant case is Droctulf. He was a military man of Suebian origin (‘ex Suavorum, hoc est Alamannorum’) who had an extraordinary career.54 There are three sources that contain testimonies about his deeds. He is mentioned in the History of Theophylact Simocatta,55 in a letter of Gregory the Great,56 and Paul the Deacon’s Historia.57 Droctulf, as said above, involuntarily came to Italy as a child. Paul’s explanation as to why Droctulf was chosen dux is astonishing for he says that it was because ‘he was of an excellent figure’ (‘forma idoneus’). Paul goes on to explain that Droctulf later fought the Lombards to avenge his captivity (‘sed cum occasione ulciscendae suae captivitatis repperit, contra Langobardorum ilico ama surrexit’). Of course, it is more likely that it was a generous payment of Byzantine solidi that convinced Droctulf to defect. He contributed valuable military efforts, when for example, after Faroald, the dux of Spoleto, had captured Classis, port of Ravenna, he recaptured it for the emperor in 575 or 576. Later in his life, Droctulf served – maybe as a reward for his triumph at Classis – as duke of Brescello, a Byzantine stronghold which guarded a bridge over the river Po. Between 584 and 590, he frequently fought against King Authari. After the conquest of Brescello, the post was destroyed by the Lombards. This failure seemingly led to Droctulf’s dismissal from Italy. Droctulf was ordered by the emperor to Thrace to fight against Slavic and Avar warriors, and then besieged Adrianople in 586. As a commander-in-chief (hypotrategos) he acquired high military reputation. After his death (598?), the Byzantines at Ravenna granted him a splendid burial in the Basilica of San Vitale, where his lengthy epitaph survived to be recorded in the HL at the end of the eighth century.58

The Rise of the Lombard Kingdom: Flavius rex Authari The year 584 was pivotal for the history of the Lombards in Italy. Facing the danger of repeated Frankish invasions from the north, and the simultaneous 54 55 56 57 58

HL 3.18. PLRE III, pp. 425-7. Theophylact Simocatta, Historia 2.17.9. Gregory the Great, ep. 9.10 to Gennadius, exarch of Africa, dated 598. HL 3.19. Bognetti, ‘Tradizione longobarda e politica bizantina’, p. 461-7.

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increase in Byzantine military efforts, the Lombard duces convened to elect Authari, son of Cleph, as new rex Langobardorum. Authari took the title of Flavius, and thus created a meaningful link between himself to former Italian rulers Odoacer and Theoderic.59 No source tells us who exactly was involved in the election and what happened during the convention. In any case, it could not have been a gathering of all the free Lombard men. The ‘gairethinx’ (gathering of spears) was a once-a-year gathering of all free men capable of wearing weapons, thus representing the Lombard exercitus as well as the Lombard people. One would be mistaken, however, to imagine the meeting of the army as a kind of democratic gathering of equal warriors, but rather by the powerful aristocrats. The latter surely included the duces and this group was by no means uniform. Some of them received their offices directly from the king, whilst others might have earned their outstanding positions without royal influence.60 During his reign, Authari fulfilled the military expectations of Lombard kingship. He and his united Lombard forces were able to expel the Frankish warriors from Italy and to limit Byzantine aspirations by conquering many new territories and adding them to the Lombard kingdom. In this context, Paul tells the story about Authari pushing forward to Spoleto and Benevento, and from there to Reggio opposite Sicily. Here, the king is said to have touched a single pillar standing at the shore of the sea with his spear saying: ‘The territories of the Lombards will be up to this place’.61 His military successes might explain why Authari was one of a few Lombard kings who was faced with no serious insurgencies, at least the sources indicated that. In 590, the Lombards finally defeated a Byzantine-Frankish coalition whereby consolidating the Lombard sovereignty in Italy. Not least because of this protection of internal security, Jarnut has called Authari the first Lombard ‘statesman’.62 Paul the Deacon conveys another important detail as he says that each duke gave half of his ‘substantiae’ (possessions), to equip Authari with a strong foundation for his kingship.63 Evidently, the loss to the royal treasure after the assassination of Alboin had to be compensated. Without 59 Jarnut, Geschichte, p. 39-40. 60 The office had both a strong military component, because it included the leadership of its own troop, as well as civil aspects in legal and administrative terms. Subordinate offices such as the centenarii and decani, who certainly had the names of army divisions who commanded them, also bore a military character. Bertolini, ‘Ordinamenti militari’, p. 490. This amalgation of military and civilian spheres is one characteristic feature of early medieval societies. 61 HL 3.32: »Usque hic erunt Langobardorum fines«. 62 Jarnut, Geschichte, p. 42. 63 HL 3.16.

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the treasure in the royal palace, it would not have been possible to act as king.64 Paul the Deacon wanted his reader to believe that all Lombard dukes willingly gave up their possessions, but this may be due to Paul’s desire to demonstrate that, at least this once, the Lombard people were unified. This unity was disturbed when Ansul, a congnatus regni, was killed in the palace of Verona. Paul was unable to explain the reasons for this murder.65 On 5 September 590, Authari unexpectedly died in his palace at Pavia. If Paul is correct in his report that the king was poisoned,66 we must assume another hostile faction at the heart of the Lombard kingdom. Unfortunately, we lack a chance to identify the motivation of this group. Soon afterwards, his widow Theodelinda chose Agilulf, dux of Turin, as her second husband, making him the successor to the throne.67 This did not take place at Pavia, but approximately 35 km away at a place named Lomello. Some months later, Agilulf was elected king of the Lombards at an assembly in Milan. Again, we are lacking information as to who exactly was present at this gathering.

Insurgencies During the Reign of Agilulf The entire seventh century is characterised by a series of insurgencies and the subsequent attempts to fight them. This certainly was a serious danger for the Lombard kingdom, as was the persistence of a certain self-serving attitude of some duces, who were prepared to cooperate and assist the enemies of the Lombard king. Quite often, Herrschaftswechsel (change-in-rulership) triggered crises in the kingdom, which were regularly accompanied by military violence among the opponents.68 The fact that there were several powerful aristocratic families who competed for the primacy among the Lombards might have been detrimental to stabilisation of the kingdom commenced by Agilulf’s predecessor Authari. Paul the Deacon explicitly describes Agilulf as a warlike man and says his suitability for the kingship derived both from his physical strength and from his keen mind.69 Agilulf’s main residence was at Milan. Here he was made king, and it was at this centre that he made his son Adaloald, consors regni in the year 604. After 590 the 64 See Hardt, Gold und Herrschaft, pp. 300-3. 65 HL 3.30. 66 HL 3.35. The OGL does not say anything about the circumstances of Authari’s death. 67 As already predicted in HL 3.30. 68 Fröhlich, Studien zur langobardischen Thronfolge. 69 HL 3.35: Erat enim isdem vir strenuus et bellicosus et tam forma quam animo ad regni gubernacula coaptatus.

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Lombards, it seems, began to achieve a firmer sense of political cohesion. In the fourth book of the Historia Langobardorum, Paul describes Agilulf overthrowing the insurgencies of at least eight dukes. As the main source the description for Agilulf’s reign was Secundus of Trento († 612), who had spent some time at the court, we may consider Paul’s report as quite reliable. There are more accounts detailing that the new king faced resistance from the very beginning, as, for example, in the Origo: And Acquo [Agilulf], the Thuringian duke, departed from Turin and united himself with queen Theudelenda and became king of the Langobards. And he killed his rebel dukes Zangrolf of Verona, Mimulf of the island of St Julian and Gaidulf of Bergamo, and others who were rebels.70

Evidently, Agilulf was capable of performing the necessary counterinsurgencies. Also, Paul the Deacon describes the successful breakdown of the opposition: In these days king Agilulf put to death Mimulf, duke of the island of St. Julian, because he had on a previous occasion treasonably surrendered to the dukes of the Franks. Gaidulf indeed, the Bergamascan duke, rebelled in his city of Pergamus (Bergamo) and fortified himself against the king, but afterwards gave hostages and made peace with his sovereign. Again, Gaidulf shut himself up in the island of Comacina. But king Agilulf invaded this island and drove Gaidulf’s men out of it and carried away to Ticinum (Pavia) the treasure he had found placed there by the Romans. But Gaidulf again fled to Pergamus (Bergamo) and was there taken by king Agilulf and again received into favour.71

The execution of dux Mimulf was an act of revenge for his treason, as he had once surrendered to the Franks and seems to have fought on their side. As this is the only entry in Paul’s Historia on him, we do not know when and in which situation Mimulf had been fighting against the Lombards. Maybe he was one of the many duces who still accompanied the Frankish troops in 590 at the peak of the crisis.72 The case of Gaidulf is of special importance because it shows that insurgents could hope for mercy when overthrown. 70 OGL 6 (transl. Foulke 1907). 71 HL 4.3. 72 PLRE III, p. 890. He might be the same person mentioned in a letter of Gregory the Great, ep. 7.23.

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In this episode it happens twice. Only after his third rebellion was Gaidulf executed by the king.73 Additionally, women could be responsible for serious insurgencies in the Lombard kingdom: Romilda, the wife of Gisulf, betrayed the Lombards of Forum Iulii when the city was besieged by the Avars. Paul the Deacon provides the whole story. It has a rather simple narrative structure with the protagonists divided into good and bad. The Lombards, especially Gisulf’s sons Cacco, Radoald, and Grimoald represent the former, the Avars and Romilda the latter. Romilda opened the gates of her city because of her lust for the Avar khagan. In the logic of Paul’s narrative she had to be punished for her treason. After the Avar invaders had killed all the male Lombards, Romilda was raped by the khagan and twelve of his warriors and finally was impaled.74 For those readers who still would have not understood the message of this story, Paul goes on to say: ‘Therefore the detestable betrayer of her country who looked out for her own lust more than for the preservation of her fellow citizens and kindred, perished by such a death’.75 Another case of a dux cooperating with the Lombard’s enemies is Gulfari, who ruled in Istria. This man, a magister militum was a recipient of a letter from Pope Gregory in the year 599.76 He may be identical with a certain Ulfari mentioned by Paul the Deacon.77 He rebelled at Treviso but was captured by the king and imprisoned.78 Nothing is known about his later fate. Agilulf was further successful in subduing revolts, and by doing so, establishing a centralised power of the Lombard state. In 603, Gisulf II of Friuli, the most politically self-sufficient duchy of the Italian north, had to come to terms with the king. However, further south, it seems, the king was either less ambitious or less successful. It is again through the works of Gregory the Great that we know of a certain Lombard duke named Acilla.79 He was a high-ranking officer, maybe a dux. The letter shows that Acilla was allied to the Byzantines and had promised to keep peace for at least 30 days with the exarch Smaragdus. Another dux, Nordulf, commanded 73 HL 4.13; OGL 6. 74 Kathy L. Gaca has recently drawn attention to the theme of violence against women in pre-modern conflicts, see: Gaca, ‘Girls, Women, and the Significance of Sexual Violence’ and ibid., ‘The Martial Rape of Girls and Women’. 75 HL 4.37. 76 Gregory the Great, ep. 9.160. 77 PLRE III, p. 563. 78 HL 4.3. Rebellavit quoque dux Ulfari contra regem Agonem aput Tarvisium et obsessus captusque est ab eo. 79 PLRE III, p. 315 (s.v. Cilla). Gregory the Great, ep. 13.36 (dating 603).

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his own warrior-group with whom he placed himself in Roman service to recapture cities of the Lombards for the Romans.80 He gained the title patricius. But his warriors betrayed him when he was at Constantinople negotiating with Emperor Maurikios, whom they expected would not pay them enough money.81 As a consequence, they defected to the troops of the Lombard king. Agilulf conceded the southern duchies of Spoleto and Benevento as being largely independent, and thus arranged the political situation for the following decades.82

Insurgencies During the Time of Adaloald and Arioald Agilulf was succeeded by his son Adaloald, who reigned from 615 to 626. Soon after his election, the exarch Eleutherius began an (ineffective) war against the Lombards, which ended with the promise that the Byzantines would pay tributes.83 Fredegar reports that Adaloald had been poisoned by a Byzantine legate named Eusebius and, after having lost his mind, started to eliminate all Lombard primates and nobiles. After Adaloald had killed twelve such aristocrats, the Lombards plotted against him.84 There are different reports about these events. Apparently, the opposition fought against Adaloald and his mother Theudelinda. There were, indeed, prolonged struggles between the insurgents and the king that also involved interference by other Italian powers. Pope Honorius I (625-38) wrote to the exarch Isaac of Ravenna in favour of Adaloald,85 while several bishops supported the usurper Arioald, dux of Turin. When in 626 Emperor Heraclius began to win his wars against the Persians, thus increasing the Byzantine military menace, the Lombards finally replaced Adaloald with Arioald.86 80 Epistulae Austriasicae 41 (Romanus to Childebert II, dating 590). 81 PLRE III, pp. 949-50. 82 Pohl, ‘The Empire and the Lombards’, p. 111. 83 Continuatio Havniensis Prosperi 22. 84 Fredegar, Chronicle 4.49. HL 4.41 is much shorter on that, telling that Adaoald was replaced by Arioald after having lost his mind (eversa mente insaniret). 85 Honorius I, ep. 1: ‘Delatum est ad nos, episcopos Transpadanos Petro Pauliu filio suadere esse, ut Adalvaldum regem desereret, Ariovaldoque tyranno se applicaret. Quam ob rem quia Petrus pravis eorum cosiliis suis respuit obedire, et sacramenta regni Agoni (Agiulpho videlicet) Adalvaldi patri praestitia sanctae cupit servare; et qui tale facinus vindicare deberent eorum ipsi suasores existant, rogamus vos, ut postquam Adalvaldum divino in regnum (ut speramus) auxilio reduxeritis, praedictos episcopos Romam mittere vetitis, ne scelus hujusmodi impunitum relinquamus.’ See on this Thanner, Papst Honorius I., pp. 84-85 and 199-200. 86 Fredegar, Chronicle 4.50.

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Shortly after having been elected, the new rex Langobardorum imprisoned his wife Gundeberga in a monastery, accusing her of plotting against him. She was suspected to have allied with Taso, the dux of Friuli.87 Fredegar continues his narrative, saying that the competing parties agreed to solve the conflict through a duel. Arioald choose a man named Adalulf, who served at the king’s court (‘cum in aula palatiae adsiduae obsequium regis’)88 to fight for him, whereas Pitto, an ordinary man, was to defend the honour of the disgraced queen.89 Pitto won the duel and Gundeberga was free to leave. With this episode, we gain another insight into the moral conception of early medieval writers: If the cause is just, even a simple man is able to overcome his opponents.

Insurgencies During the Reign of Rothari The reign of Rothari is of special significance for the understanding of Lombard history, as it is in 643 that for the first time Lombard laws were codified.90 Rothari, belonging to one of the most noble Lombard families, the Arodi (‘ex genere arodus’),91 was the dux of Brescia, before being elected to the kingship.92 Paul the Deacon characterises him as a ‘brave and strong [man who] followed the path of justice’. However, the king encountered resistance at the beginning of his reign, at least from some of the Lombard nobiles, as Fredegar reports in his Chronicle. Rothari was able to conduct the necessary counter-insurgencies, as Fredegar goes on to say that all of them were eliminated.93 In his first years of kingship, Rothari considerably increased the dominion of the Lombards in Italy by military force.94 In the same year that he 87 Fredegar, Chronicle 4.50. 88 Fredegar, Chronicle 4.51. 89 Fredegar, Chronicle 4.51. In the version of Paul the Deacon (HL 4.47) the combatant of Gundeberga is called Carellus and is said to have been a slave. 90 There is an unmanageable amount of literature on the Edictum Rothari. Worth reading are the introductory comments in the edition of Azzara and Gasparri. 91 OGL 6, repeated in HL 4.42. 92 The details of his election are obscure. It seems as if the widow of Arioald, Gundeberga, played an important role. Fredegar, Chronicle, 4.70 mentions an oath that had been sworn by all Lombards (‘omnes Langobardi’) to the queen. On this see Schneider, Königswahl und Königserhebung, pp. 39-40. 93 Fredegar, Chronicle 4.70: Chrotharius cum regnare cepissit, multus nubilium Langobardorum, quos sibi sinserat contomacis, interfecit. Jarnut, Geschichte, p. 58 states: ‘Mit brutaler Energie verfolgte Rothari opponierende Große, von denen er viele beseitigen ließ. So sicherte er den inneren Frieden in seinem Reich, indem er Furcht und Schrecken verbreitete.’ 94 HL 4.45.

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promulgated his famous edict, Rothari had led a successful campaign against the exarchate of Ravenna.95 With the codification of the law, he underlined the Lombard’s claim to rule Italy legitimately. The first chapter orders capital punishment for anyone attempting to murder the king.96 Chapters four to seven dictate severe punishment for those supporting enemies of the Lombard kingdom, therefore demonstrating that they were intended to stabilise the state. Chapter 21 regulates the obligation of the warriors (‘exercitales’) to join the army on campaign. 20 solidi are to be paid by one who refuses to follow his rex or dux.97 This is a clear sign of inculcation of loyalty that was demanded from every single free Lombard and therefore another attempt to avoid unrest within the kingdom. Aside from the fact that the 16-year reign of Rothari is only sparsely documented, it seems that his efforts to keep peace in his realm were quite successful, as at least no further insurgencies are recorded. When Rothari died peacefully (‘vita decendens’)98 in 652, his son Rodoald succeeded him as king. After a reign of only five months and seven days, he was killed, if we believe Paul the Deacon, by a Lombard, whose wife he had seduced.99 Aripert I followed him as king. Again, we lack sources clarifying the exact circumstances that led to his accession to the throne. Unlike his predecessors, he sought peace with the Byzantines. This political turn might not have found the consent of all Lombard magnates.100 Aripert also determined that his sons, Godepert and Perctarit, should follow him as joint kings, the first residing at Pavia, the latter at Milan.101 For this decision, he had not obtained the necessary agreement of all important Lombard families. In 661, this legacy led to an insurgency by parts of the aristocracy, and the brothers were stirred up against each other. This perilous crisis of the kingdom was only solved when Grimoald intervened the following year, by defeating the rivals. As a result, Grimoald became king himself. In this conflict, Godepert was killed by Grimoald, Perctarit then fled to the Avars. There is a lengthy account in the Historia Langobardorum on these entanglements. Again, all actors in Paul’s narration are sorted into a 95 HL 4.45; Fredegar, Chronicle 4.71. 96 Edictum Rothari, § 1. 97 Edictum Rothari, § 21. 98 HL 4.47. 99 Apparently, the claim by Paul that Rodoald reigned five years (!) is wrong. HL 4.48. 100 Presumably, one must consider religious controversies about the Monothelitism going on in Lombard Italy. Pope Martin I and Maximus Confessor were arrested in Rome in 653 by Byzantine troops leading to their conviction for high treason in 655. 101 HL 4.51.

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black and white pattern. Garipald, who was acting on behalf of Grimoald is called ‘totius nequitatiae seminator’, and betrayed his master, before finally meeeting a gruesome death by being beheaded by a dwarf.102 However, the conflict between Perctarit and Grimoald continued.

Grimoald in a Lombard ‘Game of Thrones’ The main source on Grimoald’s life and deeds is, again, Paul the Deacon, who describes how he, while still being dux of Benevento, fought against the Byzantines who had successfully attacked the sanctuary of Archangel Michael at Monte Gargano. The Lombards finally killed all invaders.103 As Michael was the most important Lombard military saint this victory contributed to his military fame.104 As noted above, he had seized the kingdom from Perctarit and was made king at Pavia.105 Paul reports that the king sent the Beneventan warriors home (except for a personal following), not without rewarding them for their military support in helping him gain the Lombard throne.106 In the meantime, Grimoald threatened the Avars with war, should they not surrender Perctarit. After some negotiations, Perctarit returned to the Lombard kingdom and submitted to Grimoald, who welcomed him to Pavia. Paul inserts direct speech into the scene, letting Perctarit say: ‘I am your servant. Knowing you to be most Christian and pious, although I can live among the heathen, yet relying upon your mercy I have come to your feet’. Subsequently, he received compensation from the king and a grand residence, but he remained a danger as a pretender to the throne. Apparently, Grimoald planned his assassination. Perctarit, realising that he could not resist the power of Grimoald or survive this ‘game of thrones’, escaped from Pavia to Asti, where he still had some followers who were also rebelling against the king (‘Grimualdo rebelles extabant’).107 From there he continued his flight via Turin to the Frankish kingdom. Grimoald’s reign is characterised by numerous military conflicts, among them the hazardous campaign of Constans II (641-668) in the south of Italy.108 Probably, the emperor wanted to secure Italy against hostile Saracen 102 HL 4.51. 103 HL 4.46. 104 Arnold, Footprints, pp. 88-90. 105 HL 5.1. 106 HL 5.1. 107 HL 5.2. 108 Corsi, La spedizione with a collection of all available sources. See also Esders, ‘Konstans II.’.

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forces, based in North Africa and feared for their raids in the Mediterranean. Constans also declared that he wanted to restore Rome and give it back his ancient reputation. However, it may be no coincidence that the Byzantine intervention in Southern Italy took place at a moment of significant changes within the Lombard realm. There were serious conflicts going on between Lombard magnates over the territorial gains in southern Italy. Therefore, it seems likely, especially since the Lombard invasion of Italy and the establishment of their realm had never been officially acknowledged by the Byzantines, that the emperor hoped to profit from the intra-Lombard quarrels. However, another reason is conceivable: Grimoald’s accession to the throne involved a change of power to a Catholic and Roman-friendly party that could support a political unification of the Lombards in the north and the south. Such potential in the hands of one powerful family made the Lombard monarchy even more dangerous than before. In 662, Constans left with his army from Greece and landed at Taranto. He quickly conquered numerous cities in the territories of Benevento. In face of this danger, Romuald, dux of Benevento, sent messages from the besieged city to his father with an urgent request for relief troops. Grimoald left Pavia, conferring the palace to Lupus of Friuli. Paul the Deacon contains a remarkable detail when he reports on the campaign of Grimoald. Many Lombard warriors were said to have defected from the army. They accused the king of looting the palace of Pavia and not planning to return to the north after the campaign. That means that even in an important military campaign for the defence of the kingdom, there were renegades leaving their king.109 This is another sign of the lack of acceptance among the Lombard duces towards their king. In the year 664, when Grimoald was fighting in the south of Italy to get rid of the emperor and his armies, Lupus, who should have protected Pavia on behalf of the king, rebelled: Since this Lupus had acted very insolently at Ticinum in the king’s absence because he did not think he would return, when the king did come back, Lupus, knowing that the things he had not done rightly were displeasing to him, repaired to Forum Julii [Cividale del Friuli] and, conscious of his own wickedness, rebelled against this king.110

Paul explicitly says that the king wanted to avoid a civil war and agreed with the Avars that they should throw down this insurrection. In a battle 109 HL 5.7; HL 5.26 reports that Grimoald later took revenge for this treason. 110 HL 5.18.

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at the Fluvius Frigidus,111 Lupus lost his life, but then the Avars started to plunder Friuli. With diplomatic skill Grimoald was able to move the Avars to retreat. To strengthen the peace the king married his son Romuald to Theuderada, the daughter of Lupus.

Paul the Deacon’s Prototype/Prefiguration of an Insurgent: Alahis, filius iniquitatis After Grimoald had died in 671, Perctarit returned from his Frankish exile and was welcomed by his followers at the borders of the Lombard kingdom. In the first years of his second reign, he apparently did not face any rebellion. To consolidate the dynastic claims of his family, he made his son Cunincpert co-king. Only in 679, a man named Alahis rose up against the king. Paul the Deacon dedicates lengthy passages in his Historia to the deeds of the dux of Trento: And while they were living in great peace and had tranquillity around them on every side, there arose against them a son of iniquity, Alahis by name, by whom the peace was disturbed in the kingdom of the Langobards, and a great slaughter was made of the people.112

Even though Alahis was able to put Perctarit and his army to flight when they besieged Trento, his uprising ended unsuccessfully. Paul conceals the details of his failure, but then goes on to say that Alahis nevertheless was pardoned, mainly because Cunincpert intervened on his behalf.113 Furthermore, Cunincpert convinced the king to trust in Alahis and to install him as dux of Brescia. About a decade later, when Cunincpert had succeeded Perctarit to the Lombard throne (688), Alahis began a second rebellion. For this insurgency, Alahis found powerful assistance. Lombard warriors from Friuli as well as from Brescia joined his forces. With the support of theses military men under the leadership of Aldo and Grauso, Alahis was able to conquer Pavia forcing Cunincpert and his army to take flight. However, this success did not last 111 The same place where in 394 the Emperor Theodosius had fought against the usurper Eugenius. 112 HL 5.36: ‘Cumque in magna pace degerent et ex omni parte in circuitu tranquillitatem haberent, surrexit contra eos filius iniquitatis Alahis nomine, per quem in regno Langobardorum, perturbata pace, maximae populorum factae sunt strages’. 113 HL 5.36. Cunincpert saves Alahis from the death penalty after lengthy negotiations.

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and the coalition of Alahis soon disintegrated. His most important followers inexplicably changed side. Paul does not mention any reason for it. Aldo and Grauso restored Pavia to the king.114 This was the moment Cunincpert started a military offensive, and he gathered his army to attack Alahis. But the war did not proceed as the king expected. After some losses he challenged Alahis to a duel that was meant to decide the conflict. However, the rebel answered that he would not fight the king personally, claiming: ‘I cannot do this because among his spears I see the image of the holy archangel Michael by whom I swore allegiance to him’.115 His own warriors now called him a coward.116 Finally, the decisive battle at Coronate was won by the king. Alahis was killed, his head was cut off and his body mutilated. His warriors were killed, too, or drowned in the Adda while fleeing.117 The whole Alahisepisode may stand pars pro toto for a multitude of stories of rebellion and insurgencies conducted by Lombard duces. Twice Paul describes Alahis as a man who spread disunity among the Lombards. His role as an infamous rebel is embellished by several episodes. Not only is he an insurgent and an oath-breaker, a man who threatens to kill all clerics, but at the climax of the story he also turns out to be a coward who is unwilling to fight in single combat against the king, making him the perfect anti-hero of Paul’s narrative.118 In contrast to him, King Cunincpert is mainly characterised as a righteous king who, with the help of God, is able to crush his enemies.119

Conclusion Italy was not only divided by its physical geography, but also by various powerful actors with different aims that influenced the course of Lombard 114 Aldo and Grauso are mentioned in HL 6.6 again, where it is said that the king forgave them. 115 HL 5.41: ‘Cumque Alahis sui hortarentur, ut faceret quod Cunincpert illi mandavit, ipse respondit: “Hoc facere ego non possum, quia inter contos suos sancti archangeli Michaelis, ubi ego illi iuravi, imaginem conspicio”.’ 116 To call someone a coward (Lomb. arga) was one of the most serious accusations in Lombard Italy. For this see the lengthy account in the HL on an argument between the sculdahis (Schultheiß) Argait and the dux of Friuli Ferdulf. HL 6.24. On this see Priester, Geschichte, p. 168. 117 The power struggles described with great vividness in books IV and V form the end of these books, just as the conspiracy against Alboin forms the end of the second book. This is a parallelism, certainly intended by Paul the Deacon, and certainly perceived by the reader. 118 I will return to this issue in more detail in another article. 119 The Carmen de synodo Ticinensi, written in the late seventh century, suggests that Cunincpert’s legitimacy with rule Lombard Italy derived not only from his selection by God, but also from the fact that he had crushed the rebellion of Alahis.

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history between 600 and 700. This led to a continuous entanglement of all involved parties, be they Lombards, Byzantines, Franks or the popes. The enduring rebellions of the sixth- and seventh centuries have traditionally been taken as an indication of a general weakness of Lombard royal power. However, the main insurgents, the duces, did not show a tendency to disestablish kingship or monarchy in Italy. This can be proven through several incidents. After the ten years of interregnum the magnates elected a new rex and equipped his position through abdication of their personal wealth. In the time after the reign of Agilulf and Adaloald, when ducal power had been largely weakened, we do not find any ducal attempts to destroy the Lombard kingdom. Instead, in 626 they gathered to enthrone Arioald, who stemmed from another family than his predecessor. The lack of a sustainable system of succession was a crucial factor for the trend to take royal power by a coup d’état. One might interpret that as evidence of eroding power structures, and displacement of loyalties within the Lombard kingdom. However, it is also possible to see this as an element of cohesion. Therefore, to interpret insurgencies solely as anti-royal attempts is at least unbalanced. Many of the insurgents tried to acquire the throne for themselves, and more than once, these ambitions turned out to be successful.

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Gregory the Great, Register Epistularum, Paul Ewald and Ludo Moritz Hartmann (eds.), MGH Epistulae (1 + 2) (Berlin: Weidmann, 1891/1899); John R.C. Martyn, The Letters of Gregory the Great. Translated, with Introduction and Notes Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies, 2004). Honorius I, Epistulae, Jacques Paul Migne (ed.), PL 80 (Paris, 1863), cc. 463-94. John of Biclaro, Chronicle, Theodor Mommsen (ed.), MGH AA (Berlin: Weidmann, 1894), pp. 207-20; Kenneth Baxter Wolf, Chronicle, Conquerors and Chroniclers of Early Medieval Spain (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 1999). Marius of Avenches, Chronicle, Theodor Mommsen (ed.), MGH AA (Berlin: Weidmann, 1894), pp. 227-239; Alexander Callander Murray (ed.), From Roman to Merovingian Gaul: A Reader (Orchard Park, NY: Broadview Press, 2000), pp. 100-108. Menander Protector, The History of Menander the Guardsman, Roger Blockley (ed.) (Liverpool: F. Cairns, 1985). Origo gentis Langobardorum, Georg Waitz (ed.), MGH SrL (Hannover: Hahn, 1878), pp. 1-6; Claudio Azzara and Stefano Gasparri (eds.), Le leggi dei Longobardi, Storia memoria e diritto di un popolo germanico (Milano: Viella, 1992), pp. 2-7. Paul the Deacon, Historia Langobardorum, ed. Georg Waitz, MGH SrL (Hannover: Hahn, 1878), pp. 12-192; William Dudley Foulke, History of the Lombards. With explanatory and critical notes, a biography of the author, and an account of the sources of the history (New York: Longmans, Green & Co., 1907); Wolfgang F. Schwarz, Paulus Diaconus: Geschichte der Langobarden (Darmstadt: WBG, 2009). Theophylact Simocatta, Historia,Carl de Boor (ed.) (Leipzig: Teubner, 1887); Michael and Mary Whitby, The History of Theophylact Simocatta: An English Translation with Introduction and Notes (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1986).

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Gschwantler, Otto, ‘Die Heldensage von Alboin und Rosimund’, in FS Otto Höfler (Wien: Wilhelm Braumüller Universitäts-Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1976), pp. 214-54. Gundlach, Wilhelm, ‘Die Sammlung der Epistolae Austrasiacae’, Neues Archiv der Gesellschaft für Ältere Deutsche Geschichtskunde, 13 (1888), pp. 366-386. Hardt, Matthias, Gold und Herrschaft. Die Schätze europäischer Könige und Fürsten im ersten Jahrtausend (Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 2004). Harrison, Dick, The Early State and the Towns: Forms of Integration in Lombard Italy AD 568-774 (Lund: Lund University Press, 1993). Haubrichs, Wolfgang, ‘Von der Unendlichkeit der Ursprünge: Transformationen des Mythos in der Origo gentis Langobardorum und der Historia Langobardorum des Paulus Diaconus’, in Udo Friedrich, Andreas Hammer, and Christiane Witthöft (eds.), Anfang und Ende. Formen narrativer Zeitmodellierung in der Vormoderne (Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 2014), pp. 67-90. Haubrichs, Wolfgang, ‘Die ‚Erzählung des Helden ‘in narrativen Passagen der Historia Langobardorum des Paulus Diaconus’, in Heike Sahm and Victor Millet (eds.), Narration and Hero: Recounting the Deeds of Heroes in Literature and Art of the Early Medieval Period (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2014) pp. 277-304. Jarnut, Jörg, Geschichte der Langobarden (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1982). Jarnut Jörg, ‘Die Landnahme der Langobarden in Italien aus historischer Sicht ‘, in Michael Müller-Wille and Reinhard Schneider (eds.), Ausgewählte Probleme europäischer Landnahmen des Früh- und Hochmittelalters. Methodische Grundlagendiskussionen im Grenzbereich zwischen Archäologie und Geschichte (Sigmaringen: Thorbeke, 1993), pp. 173-94. Jarnut, Jörg, ‘Gens, Rex and Regnum of the Lombards’, in Hans- Werner Goetz, Jörg Jarnut, and Walter Pohl (eds.), Regna and Gentes. The Relationship between Late Antique and Early Medieval Peoples and Kingdoms in the Transformation of the Roman World (Leiden: Brill, 2003), pp. 409-28. Jarnut, Jörg, ‘Der langobardische Staat’, in Der frühmittelalterliche Staat – europäische Perspektiven, eds. by Walter Pohl and Veronika Wieser (eds.) (Wien: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 2009), pp. 23-9. Jarnut, Jörg, ‘Thüringer und Langobarden im 6. und beginnenden 7. Jahrhundert’, in Helmut Castritius, Dieter Geuenich, and Matthias Werner (eds.), Die Frühzeit der Thüringer. Archäologie, Sprache, Geschichte (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2009), pp. 279-90. Krüger, Karl Heinrich, ‘Zur ‘beneventanischen’ Konzeption der Langobardengeschichte des Paulus Diaconus’, Frühmittelalterliche Studien, 15 (1981), pp. 18-35. Loseby, Simon T., ‘Gregory of Tours, Italy, and the Empire’, in A Companion to Gregory of Tours, ed. by Alexander Callander Murray, Brill’s Companions to the Christian Tradition, 63 (Leiden: Brill, 2016), pp. 462-97.

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Martindale, John R., The Prosopography of the Later Roman Empire, vol. III (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992). McKitterick, Rosamond, History and Memory in the Carolingian World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004). Meyer, Christoph H.F., ‘König Rothari begründet seine Gesetze. Zum Verhältnis von Konsens und Argumentation in den ‘Leges Langobardorum’, in Verena Epp and Christoph H.F. Meyer (eds.), Recht und Konsens im frühen Mittelalter, Vorträge und Forschungen 82 (Ostfildern: Jan Thorbeke, 2017), pp. 151-234. Mor, Carlo Guido, ‘I gastaldi con potere ducale nell’ordinamento pubblico langobardo’, in Atti del 1° congresso internazionale de studi longobardi (Spoleto: CISAM, 1952), pp. 409-15. Pohl, Walter, ‘Paulus Diaconus und die Historia Langobardorum‚ Text und Tradition’, Anton Scharer and Georg Scheibelreiter (eds.), in Historiographie im frühen Mittelalter, (Wien: Oldenbourg, 1994), pp. 375-405. Pohl, Walter, ‘The Empire and the Lombards: Treaties and Negotiations in the Sixth Century’, in Walter Pohl (ed.), Kingdoms of the Empire. The Integration of Barbarians in Late Antiquity (Leiden: Brill, 1997), pp. 75-134. Pohl, Walter, Werkstätte der Erinnerung. Montecassino und die Gestaltung der langobardischen Vergangenheit (Wien: OAW, 2001). Pohl, Walter, ‘Gregory of Tours and Contemporary Perceptions of Lombard Italy’, in Kathleen Mitchell and Ian N. Wood (eds.), The World of Gregory of Tours (Leiden: Brill, 2002), pp. 131-43. Powers, Dan, ‘Irregular War as ‘insurgency’ in the Ancient World, framing the ‘unframeable’, The Ancient World, 44 (1) (2013), pp. 5-19. Priester, Karin, Geschichte der Langobarden: Gesellschaft – Kultur – Alltagsleben (Stuttgart: Theiss, 2004). Schmidt, Ludwig, ‘Paulus Diaconus die Origo gentis Langobardorum’, Neues Archiv der Gesellschaft für Ältere Deutsche Geschichtskunde, 13 (1888), pp. 389-94. Schneider, Reinhard Königswahl und Königserhebung im Frühmittelalter: Untersuchungen zur Herrschaftsnachfolge bei den Langobarden und Merowingern (Stuttgart: Hiersemann, 1972). Thanner, Anton, Papst Honorius I. (625-638) (St. Ottilien: EOS, 1989). Valtorta, Benedetta, Clavis Scriptorum Latinorum Medii Aevi: Auctores Italiae (700-1000) (Firenze: Sismel, Edizione del Galluzzo, 2006). White, Lynn (ed.), The Transformation of the Roman World: Gibbon’s Problem after two Centuries (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1966). Wickham, Chris, Early Medieval Italy: Central Power and Local Society 400-1000 (London: Macmillan, 1981). Wickham, Chris, Framing the Early Middle Ages: Europe and the Mediterranean 400- 800 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005).

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Wood, Ian N., ‘Fredegar’s Fables’, in Anton Scharer and Georg Scheibelreiter (eds.), Historiographie im frühen Mittelalter, Veröffentlichungen des Instituts für Österreichische Geschichtsforschung, 32 (Vienna: Oldenbourg, 1994), pp. 359-66. Wroth, Warwick, Catalogue of the Coins of the Vandals, Ostrogoths and Lombards and of the Empires of Thessalonica, Nicaea and Trebizond in the British Museum (London: Trustees, 1911).

About the Author Guido M. Berndt is a historian specialising in early medieval history. He has published Konflikt und Anpassung. Studien zu Migration und Ethnogenese der Vandalen (2007), edited and translated the Vita Meinwerci (2009), and is co-editor of three collected volumes. Currently, he is a lecturer at the University of Münster.

4

Troubled Times Narrating Conquest and Defiance between Charlemagne and Bernard (774-818) Francesco Borri Abstract The article focuses on four case studies, in order to understand the shifting discourse on conquest and resistance in Carolingian Italy: The 774 Frankish takeover of Italy, Hrodgaud’s stand of 776, King Pippin’s wars between 790 and 810, and King Bernard’s rebellion of 818. From these episodes skilfully crafted stories were derived, where tradition and innovation shaped contemporary political concerns, often in conflict with each other. They offer a vantage point to observe the evolving fortunes of Carolingian Italy. Keywords: Carolingian Italy; Pippin of Italy; Conquest; Rebellion; Lombards and Franks; Textual identities

Introduction In 774 the Frankish armies of Charlemagne (768-814) conquered Italy, and founded a kingdom that was much greater in both extent and power than the kingdom of the Lombards.1 Under Frankish aegis, the Kings of Italy ruled over both Pavia and Ravenna – the cores of the Lombard and Roman polities of Italy – occasionally also extending their authority over the defiant Lombard duchies of the south, as well as the few surviving imperial enclaves such as Venice and the Puglian coast. Additionally, the rulers of Italy were 1 On this event, literature has become very consistent. See: S. Gasparri, Italia longobarda: Il regno, i Franchi, il papato (Rome and Bari: Laterza, 2012), pp. 74-178; and the essay contained in 774: Ipotesi su una transizione, ed. idem, SAAME 1 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2008). Moreover, see G. Tabacco, ‘L’avvento dei Carolingi nel regno dei Longobardi,’ in Il regno dei Longobardi in Italia, ed. S. Gasparri, Istituzioni e società 4 (Spoleto: Editoria del Centro, 2004), pp. 443-479.

Heath, C. and R. Houghton (eds.), Conflict and Violence in Medieval Italy 568-1154. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press 2022 doi: 10.5117/9789462985179_ch04

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granted authority over transalpine regions such as Istria, Bavaria, and eastern Alemannia, as well as hegemony over considerable but vaguely defined territories in central and south-eastern Europe. This substantial realm was a precarious one, and it did not long survive the death of its main architect: Charlemagne’s third son, King Pippin (781-810). Indeed, two decades afterwards, the very fabric of the kingdom of Italy collapsed and powerful neighbours, both within and outside the Frankish world, took advantage of the realm’s disarray. These years are also blessed with many and rich sources, which narrate the rapidly changing nature of the Kingdom of Italy, from a hostile realm, to one among the cores of Frankish power, only to eventually re-emerge as a rebellious and treacherous kingdom a few decades later. Many authors concentrated on narrating war and disorder, which was read as the main vector for these transformations. Their stories were often built around a handful of Classical topoi. With few exceptions, they are repetitive and formulaic, closely resembling each other in plot: only very seldom has the course of the events been altered. Recognising differences and redundancies, while putting them in context, can help us to pull together the strings of the different and often conflicting interests that surrounded the Frankish conquest of Italy and the creation of a Carolingian kingdom there. Stories were indeed carefully crafted, witnessing thereby the textual communities supporting them.2 The narration of conflict or its absence thereafter became clear tropes which revealed political needs and conflicting instances. Stories were constantly retold to adjust to contemporary political needs. In turn, they triggered the formation of counter-stories as a means of resistance. In the following pages I will concentrate on four case studies, which are particularly revealing for understanding these evolving discourses. These are: The conquest of Italy in 774; Hrodgaud’s stand of 776; King Pippin’s wars between 790 and 810; and King Bernard’s rebellion of 818. For all these episodes, I will discuss the Frankish narratives, alongside accounts which are in tension with the dominant discourse; these are particularly revealing in how they cast a different light on the same events. It must also be noted that I am by no means suggesting that the violence of these narratives was fictional. The tragedy of those decades, although now distant and much

2 B. Stock, The Implications of Literacy: Written Language and Models of Interpretation in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries (Cambridge-Mass.: Princeton University Press, 1983), pp. 88-240 (‘Textual Communities’).

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blurred to our sight, must have been very much present for the women and men who happened to live in such troubled times.3

Ira Dei super omnes Langobardos When the scarae of Charlemagne crossed the Alps, Lombard Italy had already endured a long history of aggression by its Frankish neighbours. In recent decades, Pippin III (751-768), Charlemagne’s father, had already invaded the Lombard kingdom twice. The Liber pontificalis, among the primary witnesses of the Frankish victory, narrates a definitive triumph. 4 It is an exquisite Roman narrative, whose aims are very clear. In this account, the Lombards lined up on the Clausae, the formidable fortifications of North-Western Italy, waiting for the invader to arrive. So strong was their position that the Franks lost hope in breaking through and instead prepared to return home. In a dramatic turn of events, God then instilled holy terror and overwhelming trepidation (‘valida trepidatio’) into the hearts of King Desiderius (757-774), his son Adelchis (759-774), and the whole of the Lombard army. By night-time the Italian host had left its camp with provisions and equipment and the Franks pursued them, butchering many. The survivors eventually took shelter in Pavia with King Desiderius. A devastating plague, divine in nature, finally struck the Lombards down. Such a narrative was the product of the bitter increase in the violence of political language, which accompanied the 774 conquests. As Stefano Gasparri has showed, since the middle of the eighth century Gregory the Great’s (590-604) harsh and derogatory tones against the Lombards were rekindled by the chancellery of Rome, both in the Liber pontificalis and in the Codex Carolinus.5 More suggestive is that these narratives hint at an unprecedented allegiance between Lombard and Greci, which eventually developed into a wide-reaching conspiracy against Rome and the Franks. Already in the year 758, the Codex Carolinus records the presence of King Desiderius in Naples, and also mentioning some negotiations between the 3 C. Ginzburg, ‘Unus testis: Lo sterminio degli ebrei e il principio dei realtà’, Quaderni storici 27 (1992), pp. 529-548. 4 Liber pontificalis 97, xxxi-xlii, ed. L. Duchesne, Le ‘Liber Pontificalis:’ Texte, introduction et commentaire, Bibliothèque des Écoles françaises d’Athènes et de Rome 2-3 (Paris: E. Thorin, 1886-1892), I, pp. 495-499. 5 Gasparri, Italia longobarda, pp. 146-160; see also C. Gantner, Freunde Roms und Völker der Finsternis: Die päpstliche Konstruktion von Anderen im 8. und 9. Jahrhundert (Vienna and Munich: Böhlau, 2014), pp. 139-218.

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King and the emperor on plans for a joint attack against the harbour town of Otranto.6 We have no further evidence of these events. It is hardly surprising that in this context, the narrative of the Liber pontificalis was barely describing the course of the Frankish campaign, and its depiction of violence and conflict was following recognisable tropes, according to which victory was ultimately granted by God, rather than conquered by a general’s skill. It was part of a broader discourse, which has its roots in Late Antiquity.7 Paulus Orosius, writing in the second decade of the fifth century, described Emperor Theodosius’ (379-395) triumph as decided by Heaven rather than by his ability as a soldier. In the evening that preceded the Battle of the Frigidus in 394, the emperor climbed a high mountain where he spent the night in prayer.8 In years much closer to the Liber pontificalis’ composition, Paul the Deacon narrated the impressive triumphs of Narses according to similar tropes. Rather than the patrician’s military talent (or that of one of his subordinates), it was his piety that granted the Romans victory against the barbarians.9 Following these tropes, the author of the Liber pontificalis did not grant justice to the overwhelming power of the Frankish scarae. Lombard armies were seldom a match for the superior transalpine forces. Since the sixth century, Frankish troops could easily raid throughout northern Italy without encountering any serious resistance and in years much closer to the final conquest of 774, King Aistulf (749-756) knew that his warriors could not face those of his enemy Pippin III without incurring a complete defeat. The Franks could indeed claim an advantage arising from the extent of their polity and the wealth of their aristocracies.10 The Royal Frankish Annals, the closest narrative that we have to an official version of the facts, confirmed the treacherous nature of the Lombards. The accusation of perfidia was indeed promptly directed against the gentes surrounding their kingdom.11 However, the annals offer a significantly 6 Codex Carolinus 17, ed. W. Gundlach, MGH Epp. 3 (Berlin: Weidmann, 1892), pp. 469-657 (515). 7 D.S. Bachrach, Religion and the Conduct of War c.300-c.1215 (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 2003), pp. 62-63. 8 Orosius hist. VII 14-15. 9 Paul the Deacon, Historia Langobardorum II, 3, ed. L. Bethmann and G. Waitz, MGH SS rer. Lang. (Hanover: Hahn, 1878), pp. 12-187, at 73-74. 10 C. Wickham, Framing the Early Middle Ages: Europe and the Mediterranean 400-800 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), p. 218; Gasparri, Italia longobarda, pp. 113-117. Moreover, on military power as a key to Frankish success: B. Bachrach, Early Carolingian Warfare: Prelude to Empire (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2001). 11 See, for the Saxons: R. Flierman, ‘Gens perfida or populus Christianus? Saxon (In)Fidelity in Frankish Historical Writing’ in C. Gantner, R. McKitterick, and S. Meeder (eds.), The Resources

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different story from the one that we found in the Liber pontificalis. Once the two armies gathered at the Clausae, King Desiderius left his positions so that Charlemagne una cum Francis was able to enter Italy.12 As explained by Helmut Reimitz, this expression was (constantly) used to stress the Frankish (i.e. the military) support for the Carolingians in a sort of legitimation from below. This became particularly frequent while recounting the campaign against the Lombards.13 The Royal Annalist recalled God’s help too, but in this context, the Lord’s support came through the intercession of Saint Peter (‘auxiliante Domino et intercedente beato Petro’), which allowed the Franks to march through Italy without any losses, again una cum Francis, rather than victory itself.14 In the annals, therefore, besides the fundamental backup of God, a pivotal role was played by the army, which terrified the Lombards, forcing them to take flight. In the Italian campaigns, conflict appears irrelevant. Einhard never makes mention of a battle. In his Life of Charlemagne, we only find a long siege that fatigued King Desiderius’ resilience, forcing him to surrender. Afterwards Charlemagne banished Adelchis, ‘in quem spes omnium inclinatae videbantur’, and defeated Hrodgaud’s (d. 776) final resistance, which I will discuss below. Then he gives the kingdom to his son Pippin.15 This is particularly revealing if compared to the description of the wars in Saxony, where the bitterness of the struggle is stressed as much as the fierceness of the region’s inhabitants.16 The Lombards, on the other hand, are described as laughable antagonists. The harsh element of the conquest was the crossing of the Alps, described with a rare romanticism (‘montium iuga et eminentes in caelum scopuli atque asperae cautes’), rather than the subjugation of the Lombard army.17 of the Past in Early Medieval Europe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), pp. 188-205. 12 Annales regni Francorum 773, ed. F. Kurze, MGH SS rer. Germ. (6) (Hanover: Hahn, 1905), p. 36. 13 H. Reimitz, History, Frankish Identity, and the Framing of Western Ethnicity, 550-850 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), pp. 342-343. 14 Annales regni Francorum 773; 36. 15 Einhard, Vita Karoli Magni 6, ed. O. Holder-Egger, MGH SS rer. Ger. (25) (Hanover and Leipzig: Hahn, 1911), p. 8. 16 Einhard, Vita Karoli Magni 7; 9: ‚Quo e nullum neque prolixius neque atrocius Francorumque populo laboriosius susceptum est; quia Saxones, sicut omnes fere Germaniam incolentes nationes, et natura feroces et cultu daemonum dediti nostraeque religioni contrarii neque divina neque humana iura vel polluere vel transgredi inhonestum arbitrabantur.‘ 17 Einhard, Vita Karoli Magni 6; 9. On this, see K. v. Winckler, ‘Gemeine Plätze: Die Wahrnehmung der Alpen in (Spät)antike und (Früh)mittelalte’, in U. Leitner (ed.), Berg & Leute: Tirol als Landschaft und Identität, Schriften zur Politischen Ästhetik 1 (Innsbruck: Innsbruck University Press, 2014), pp. 302-324.

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A further fragment of this discourse stems from the famous letter that Cathwulf wrote to Charlemagne. The epistle apparently displays strong Irish influences and has a terminus post quem in the Frankish conquest of Italy of 774. Among the eight proofs of God’s support to Charlemagne (Jo Story has revealed how the number eight recurs throughout in the text), Cathwulf enlists a victory against the Lombards without any battle (‘sine publico bello’).18 In order to justify this conflictless conquest, most of the accounts agree on the pervasive terror that spread among the Lombard lines. It was this panic which allowed the Franks to enter Italy ‘sine bello’, or even without losing a single man but causing havoc in the enemies’ lines. Later in the tenth century, Notker of St Gall insisted on similar tropes. He describes the Frankish armies as an ocean of iron, reflecting the blinding sun due to the metal of their armour and terrorising King Desiderius in Pavia.19 These stories apparently echo the classical trope of a perfect triumph, where a victorious army charges on an already subdued enemy who is already breaking in chaotic flight.20 They also had much more contingent significance. Success in battle was among medieval rulers’ most important traits. The early medieval king had to be a warrior. To maintain that the Lombard ruler did not even attempt to resist the Frankish forces. Both overwhelming Frankish force and apparent celestial support, was to question the fitness to rule of Desiderius. Newcomers such as the Carolingians, needed to disqualify their awe-inspiring opponents: in one of the opening lines of the Royal Frankish Annals Pippin III expresses his concern about kings without royal potestas; Pope Zacharias (741-752) agreed that it was an issue that disturbed the order of things. In a well-known passage, the pontiff wrote to the Mayor of Palace that ‘it would be better to call king the one who has authority rather than the one who remains without it’.21 The result of this was that the Merovingians were unfit to rule. In the context of the Frankish conquest of Italy, the Lombard inability to fight offered an element which could legitimise conquest, while 18 Cathwulf, Epistola, ed. E. Dümmler, MGH Epp. 4 (Berlin: Weidmann, 1895), pp. 501-505, at 502: ‘Sexta, quod Langobardorum exercitus ante faciem (tuam) sine publico bello in fugam conversus.‘ J. Story, ‘Cathwulf, Kingship, and the Royal Abbey of Saint-Denis,’ Speculum 74 (1999), pp. 1-21 (3-8). 19 Notker, Gesta Karoli imperatoris II, 17, H.F. Haefele (ed.), Taten Kaiser Karls des Grossen, MGH, SS rer. Germ. NS 12 (Berlin: Weidmann, 1959), pp. 82-85. See also the fitting description of F. Cardini, Alle radici della cavalleria medievale, 3rd ed. (Bologna: Il Mulino, 2014), pp. 492-496. 20 H. Sidebottom, Ancient Warfare: A Very Short Introduction (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), pp. 13-14. 21 Annales regni Francorum 749; 8: Et Zacharias papa mandavit Pippino, ut melius esset illum regem vocari, qui potestatem haberet, quam illum, qui sine regali potestate manebat.

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Desiderius, because of his unwarlike behaviour, also demonstrated himself unworthy to rule the kingdom. We f ind here the imperante conformismo pro-carolingio and antilongobardo that cast a long shadow over the complexity of the discourses circulating in the aftermath of the conquest.22 As Walter Pohl has remarked, all that we have is the fränkisch-päpstliche Sicht; what is missing is the Lombard-Italian perspective.23 We do have, however, a small clue to a counter-story of the Frankish conquest, which perhaps even reverberates strongly in much later evidence, as I will discuss below. In his Deeds of the Bishops of Ravenna, composed around 840, Andreas Agnellus wrote that the Frankish conquest of Italy was driven by the Archbishop Leo (c.770-778), rather than the pope. The archbishop sent Martin, his successor as archbishop (810-818) and at the time a deacon of the church of Ravenna, to the Franks in order to show them the way into the peninsula: ‘Francis iter Italiae hostendit.’24 There is much information in this brief entry. First, we realise that the pope, as the architect of the Frankish conquest (as it was represented in the above-mentioned Liber pontificalis and the Codex Carolinus) has been substituted for the archbishop of Ravenna. Most significantly, the deacon, and later archbishop Martin played a pivotal, although not completely clear role in the Frankish conquest of Italy. Stefano Gasparri has thoughtfully suggested that Agnellus’ witness should be read as the clue for an alternative story, which spread in the immediate aftermath of the Lombard kingdom’s fall.25 A more coherent picture of this alleged story could possibly be found in the much later Chronicle of Novalesa.26 In this eleventh-century narrative, the anonymous author turns the Lombard defeat into a titanic fight against a malevolent fate. In this version, the son of Desiderius Adelchis becomes a gallant warrior armed with an iron mace who provokes havoc among the Frankish lines.27 The men of Charlemagne are able to cross the Lombard defence lines only due to the betrayal of a Lombard jester (‘ioculator’) who guided them across hidden 22 Gasparri, Italia longobarda, p. 144. 23 W. Pohl, ‘Das Papsttum und die Langobarden’, in M. Becher and J. Jarnut (eds.), Der Dynastiewechsel von 751: Vorgeschichte, Legitimationsstrategien und Erinnerung (Münster: Scriptorium, 2004), pp. 145-161, at 146. 24 Agnellus, Liber pontificalis ecclesiae Ravennatis 160, ed. D.M. Deliyannis, CCSL CM 199 (Turnhout: Brepols 2006), p. 265. 25 Gasparri, Italia longobarda, p. 144. 26 Chronicon Novalicense, ed. G.C. Alessio, Cronaca di Novalesa (Turin: Einaudi, 1981). 27 Chronicon Novalicense III, 10; 148.

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paths in the Western Alps, since then called via Francorum. There, as the author emphasises, no resistance would be found: ‘[P]er qua quoque itinire / nulla erit contra se hasta levata / neque clypeum repercussum / nec aliquod recipietur ex suis dampnum?’ ([A]long which paths / no spear will rise against him / nor shields will oppose / neither damage will come to his own?).28 The jester’s Lombard origin (‘ex Langobardorum gente’) serves the narrative purpose of making his betrayal crystal clear. His profession of jester may have added insult to injury. This account grants a dramatic greatness to the Lombards. It also reflected one of the oldest tropes of history: King Leonidas I’s (490-480 BCE) defeat by the Persians.29 An association with the story of Leonidas could transform the Franks in to cruel and unwarlike Persians, able to gain their victory only thanks to deceit. A very different interpretation to what we find in the Frankish and Roman witnesses. We will probably never know how much of this was around in the earliest days, following the Frankish conquest. However, the trope of betrayal seems to have had many tellers: the Life of Adalhard (of Corbie), written in the mid-ninth century by Paschasius Radbertus, casts shadows on the legitimacy of the Frankish conquest, recounting the unlawful behaviour of Charlemagne with his second wife, the daughter of Desiderius. Paschasius, thereafter, carefully describes the Franks as perjurers for breaking the oath with the Lombards to exalt the virtues of Adalhard.30 Thereafter we find criticism of Charlemagne and his conquest not only among the aristocracies of Italy, but also among the oppositional groups inside his court. We know that very close to the king, different narratives, such as the annals, could on many occasion twist events to give voice to competing groups.31 The trope 28 Chronicon Novalicense III, 10-14; 150-154. 29 Although the similarities are striking, it is difficult to trace the reception of Leonidas’ defeat in the early Middle Ages: A. Albertz, Exemplarisches Heldentum: Die Rezeptionsgeschichte der Schlacht an den Thermopylen von der Antike bis zur Gegenwart, Ordnungssysteme 17 (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2006). However, the story gained an early reception among the historians of Rome’s distant past; when the deeds of the Spartans were integrated in the story of the gens Fabia, whose three hundred warriors engaged a war against the rival town of Veio. See J. Richardson, ‘The Complications of Quellenforschungen: The Case of Livy and Fabius Pictor,’ in B. Mineo (ed.), A Companion to Livy (Chichester: Wiley, 2015), pp. 178-189, at 187-188. 30 Paschasius Radbertus, Vita s. Adalhardi abbatis Corbeiensis 7, ed. J.P. Migne, PL, 120, coll. 1507-1556, at 1511-1512. On Desiderius’ daughter: J.L. Nelson, ‘Making a Difference in Eighth-Century Politics: The Daughters of Desiderius’, in A.C. Murray (ed.) After Rome’s Fall: Narrators and Sources of Early Medieval History (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1998), pp. 171-190. 31 J.R. Davis, Charlemagne’s Practice of Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), pp. 181-182.

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was, however, the same for both the groups: insinuating betrayal behind Charlemagne’s brilliant victory in order to delegitimise his actions.

Roticauso inimico nostro The successful conquest of the Lombard kingdom did not put an end to the Frankish and papal rhetoric of abuse. The well-known episode of Duke Hrodgaud of Friuli’s rebellion against Charlemagne in 776, became the occasion for a bitter renewal of Roman accusations against the Lombard aristocracies.32 Friuli, the north-eastern province of Italy was, since the age of King Alboin (560-572), the seat of one of the most powerful aristocracies of the kingdom. In the middle of the eighth century, two kings came from the local ducal family. The Lombard traditions and identity seem to have been particularly strong there.33 As is well known, Paul the Deacon was a native of Friuli and his brother Arechis decided to join Hrodgaud’s rebellion.34 Because of these reasons, and aided by the witness of the Codex Carolinus, modern historians thought that the duke’s rebellion was fuelled by Lombard animosity against the invaders, and their pride in their Lombard heritage and ethnic identity. The Italian historian Carlo Guido Mor romantically called the rebellion ‘l’ultima bandiera longobarda’ (the last Lombard flag).35 However, these ideas mostly stemmed from a perceived dichotomy between a Lombard and a Frankish party with a ‘tertium non datur’, to quote a brilliant 32 On Hrodgaud: S. Gasparri, I duchi longobardi, Studi storici 109 (Rome: Istituto storico italiano per il Medioevo, 1978), pp. 71-72. On the episode: H. Krahwinkler, Friaul im Frühmittelalter: Geschichte einer Region vom Ende des fünften bis zum Ende des zehnten Jahrhunderts, Veröffentlichungen des Instituts für Österreichische Geschichtsforschung 30, Vienna, Cologne, and Weimar: Böhlau, 1992), pp. 119-143; S. Gasparri, ‘Istituzioni e poteri nel territorio friulano in età longobarda e carolingia’, in Paolo Diacono e il Friuli altomedievale (secc. VI-X), Atti del XIV Congresso internazionale di studi sull’alto Medioevo (Spoleto: Editoria del Centro, 2001), pp. 105-128 (115-118). Moreover: Davis, Charlemagne’s Practice, pp. 136-139; and the essays collected in I Longobardi e la guerra: Da Alboino alla battaglia sulla Livenza (secc. VI-VIII), ed. P. Moro (Rome: Viella, 2004); see also the thoughtful graduation thesis: L. Sernagiotto, La rivolta di Rotgaudo contro i Carolingi (776): Indagine preliminare sull’identità longobarda in Friuli, Tesi di laurea: Università degli Studi di Padova, 2006-2007). 33 P. Moro, ‘L’estrema difesa longobarda contro Carlo Magno: la battaglia del fiume Livenza (776)’, in I Longobardi e la guerra, pp. 9-16 (9). 34 On Paul, see: C. Heath, The Narrative Worlds of Paul the Deacon: Between Empires and Identities in Lombard Italy (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2017). 35 C.G. Mor, ‘L’ultima bandiera longobarda: Rotgaudo’, in G.C. Menis and Idem (ed.), Due date friulane 776, 1077, Quaderni della Fondazione De Claricini Dornpacher 2 (Udine: Fondazione De Claricini Dornpacher, 1981), pp. 3-14.

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insight of Paul Watzlawick.36 On the contrary, Hrodgaud seems to have moved between the two, like many of the powerful Lombards who opposed Desiderius at the eve of the Frankish conquest.37 In the so-called Annals of Einhard, it is Charlemagne himself who appointed Hrodgaud to rule his province.38 Even if we do not trust this witness, the duke must have dropped Desiderius quickly enough in order to rush to Pavia and hail Charlemagne as the new Lombard king, as noted by Harald Krahwinkler.39 It remains an open question if Duke Hrodgaud joined the king at the Clausae or, as in 818 (I will discuss this below), left his king to face an enemy alone. 40 The letters of the Codex Carolinus describe a far-reaching conspiracy, involving many of Rome’s enemies, including the lords of Benevento, Spoleto, and Chiusi; the exiled Lombard King Adelchis, Desiderius’ son; the archbishops of Ravenna; even the Emperor Constantine V (740-775). In a famous letter to Charlemagne, Pope Hadrian (772-795) described the Lombards planning to lead a huge attack, together with a caterva Grecorum against Rome (‘et terrae marique ad dinimicandum super nos irruant’), in order to impose a new Lombard king, enslave the Roman clergy, and bring all of Italy to Constantinople in chains. 41 We cannot rule out the possibility that agreements like this were reached. 42 On the other hand, I suspect that there was hardly any truth in the pope’s alarmed tones; the pontiffs’ letters, as was often the case, were apparently meant to trigger Frankish interventions against the enemies of Rome. For us, what is important to note is that, as was also the case during the days of the Frankish conquest of Italy, the Lombards are represented as cruel and fearsome fighters set ‘to break the bank’: what characterised them is their infedelitas. Notwithstanding the conquest of Pavia, Italy was again pictured as a bitter battlefield. Although the complex dynamic of Hrodgaud’s rebellion suggested by the letters of the Codex Carolinus does not find confirmation in any other source, the Royal Annalist upholds the treacherous nature of the Lombards. In his 36 P. Watzlawick, Vom Schlechten des Guten oder Hekates Lösungen (Piper: München, 1986), p. 21: ‘Das Dritte, das es (angeblich) nicht gibt.‘ 37 On the Lombard opposition to Desiderius: K. Schmid, ‘Zur Ablösung der Langobardenherrschaft durch die Franken’, Quellen und Forschungen 52 (1972), pp. 1-36. 38 Annales regni Francorum (q.d. Einhardi) 776; 43. 39 Krahwinkler, Friaul, p. 121. See also: A. Barbero, Carlo Magno: Un padre dell’Europa (Rome and Bari: Laterza, 2000), p. 37. 40 See below, in this chapter, pp.93-8. 41 Codex Carolinus 57; 582. 42 See Gantner, Freunde Roms, pp. 204-10; F. Hartmann, Hadrian I. (772-795): Frühmittelalterliches Adelspapsttum und die Lösung Roms vom byzantinischen Kaiser, Päpste und Papsttum 34 (Stuttgart: Hiersemann, 2006), p. 218.

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narrative, Charlemagne is already informed of the duke’s intentions in 775, while he was campaigning in the north against the Saxons. The language of treason was here deployed in full: ‘Hrodgaudus Langobardus fraudavit fidem suam et omnia sacramenta rumpens et voluit Italiam rebellare.’43 The Royal Annalist recorded that the aristocracies of Treviso and some other towns (he uses the plural form civitates, without specifying which ones), supported Hrodgaud. In the Annales Petaviani, a narrative composed rather closer to the events, the duke of Treviso also has also a name: he is Hrodgaud’s father-in-law Stabilinus (perhaps the affectionate form of the name Stabilis, i.e. Little Stabilis). The author claims that the Franks captured Stabilinus after having laid siege to his town. 44 In the Royal Frankish Annals we do not find any description of a battle: in the following entry (s.a. 776) the Royal Annalist laconically records the king’s army entering Friuli and ‘Hrodgaudus occisus est’. 45 Afterwards, the king celebrated Easter in Treviso (indicating that the town had also fallen) and assigned the rebellious cities to Frankish aristocrats (‘omnes per Francos’), before returning ‘cum prosperitate et victoria’ in Francia. 46 Einhard, who added the Hrodgaud events to his narrative of Charlemagne’s activities in Italy, stated that the emperor opprimet, the duke in order to complete his conquest of Italy. 47 Again, there is no mention of a conflict: only Hrodgaud’s violent death is recorded, but how he met his end remains obscure. It is possible, as observed above, that the intent was to communicate to the reader that the Lombards were unable to put-up a proper fight as had happened at the Clausae in 774. Once faced by the Franks, the Lombards literally disappeared. At least this time, we do have evidence to suggest that a battle occurred. The evidence of Hrodgaud being captured and afterwards sentenced to decapitation comes later and is contradicted by contemporary evidence. 48 In a 776 charter, the woodlands of a certain Waldandus, a man who, like Paul the Deacon’s brother, had joined the rebellion of Hrodgaud, were donated to patriarch 43 Annales regni Francorum 775; 42. 44 Annales Petaviani 776, ed. G.H. Pertz, MGH SS 1 (Hanover: Hahn, 1826), pp. 7-19 (16): ‘776. Perrexit domnus rex Karolus in Italiam, et occiso Hrotgaudo, qui illi rebello extiterat, obsederuntque Stabilinium socerum suum Taraviso civitate. Eo capto dispositisque omnibus, prosper redit cum suis in Franciam. On Stabilinus: Gasparri, I duchi, pp. 61-62. 45 Annales regni Francorum 776;42-44 46 Annales regni Francorum 776; 44. 47 Einhard, Vita Karoli Magni 6; 8. 48 Regino of Prüm, Chronicon s.a. 776, ed. F. Kurze, Reginonis abbatis Prumiensis Chronicon cum continuatione Treverensi, MGH SS rer. Germ. 50 (Hanover: Hahn, 1890), p. 50: Rotgaudum rebellem captum decollare iussit.

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Paulinus of Aquileia (787-802). The charter indicates that Charlemagne was able to dispose of Waldandus’ wealth because the Lombard ‘in campo cum Roticauso inimico nostro a fidelibus fuit interfectus’, and he was killed on the battlefield together with his duke. 49 A further donation is recorded in 811: a successor of Paulinus’, the powerful patriarch Maxentius (811-837) was granted the vast belongings of two brothers who had also joined the revolt: Hrodgaud, like the duke, and Felix. The two had also lost their lives on the battlefield (‘quia cum Rotgaudo quondam infideli duce fuerunt interfecti’).50 Finally, we know that the duke was joined by men able to rely on great wealth and, thereafter, military power. There is the story of count Aio, an aristocrat of Cividale (‘Aio Langobardus de Foro Iuli’) able to draw on considerable resources (he owned estates ‘in territorio Foroiulense et Vicentino atque Veronense’), as well as wide-reaching connections.51 After Hrodgaud’s defeat, Aio was able to take shelter among the Avars (‘partibus Avariae de regno nobis a deo concesso Italiae fugivit’), where King Pippin finally captured him, probably during one of the Pannonian campaigns (‘filius noster Pipinus rex Langobardorum cum nostro exercitu hostiliter adquisivit’).52 The king eventually forgave the Lombard, who attended the 804 Plea of Rižana. After that, he joined the Frankish embassy to Constantinople in 811.53 We may speculate that hard and resourceful men like him would have only given up their positions after a bitter fight. We seem to have found contradictory evidence. After entering Italy from the Western Alps, the king’s armies advanced toward the Po Valley. They were delayed by the siege of Pavia, before moving on to further conquests. Perhaps contact with Friuli had already taken place in 775 (emissaries reached the duchy demanding submission?), but it was only in 776 that the king could finally bring battle to the local army. The men of Friuli were defeated, and their duke killed. However, the Frankish historiography recorded a rebellio. As noted by Karl Brunner the term was normally used to describe the action of the gentes infideles to the Frankish ruler: a clear

49 DD Kar. I, 112 (776), ed. E. Mulbacher, MGH, Diplomata Karolinorum I, (Hanover: Hahn, 1906), p. 158. Krahwinkler, Friaul, p. 126. 50 DD Kar. I (811), 214; 285-287 (286). 51 Aio’s origin is mentioned in: Annales regni Francorum 811; 133; his possessions in: DD Kar. I (799), 187; 251. 52 DD. Kar. I, 187 (799); 251. 53 On count Aio: E. Hlawitschka, Franken, Alemannen, Bayern und Burgunder in Oberitalien (774-962), Forschungen zur oberrheinischen Landesgeschichte 8 (Freiburg im Bresgau: Albert, 1960), pp. 113-114. Moreover: G. Rossi-Sabatini, ‘Aione’, in DBI 1 (1960), p. 534.

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statement of intentions.54 Even the fact of the battle was elided, in order to confirm the Lombard’s image as treacherous and unwarlike subjects. As with the Frankish conquest, the same episode was retold in new versions. Decades after Hrodgaud’s death, Andreas of Bergamo described a different plot: once having heard of the scourge brought by Charlemagne, Duke Hrodgaud moved together with Gaidus of Vicenza, to meet the invaders at the bridge on the River Livenza. There, the Lombards ‘magna strages de Francis fecerunt’.55 Here, we notice a new reversal of perspective. Hrodgaud does not rebel, but resists the Frankish invasion. Moreover, it is he who marches out to face the Franks after having heard of the mayhem provoked by their armies. Even the conclusion differs: Hrodgaud, together with Gaidus, overcomes the Frankish invaders, and Charlemagne praised the two Lombards for their valour after having obtained an oath of fidelity. As noted above, Andreas wrote at the end the ninth century and we do not know how old the story he told was. However, the large aristocratic involvement and the great echo of the rebellion allows us to suspect that counter-stories began to circulate soon after, perhaps fragmenting in a kaleidoscopic richness of local traditions. A possible clue stems again from a much later witness, as we saw with the Chronicle of Novalesa. In the eleventh-century Chronicle of Hugh of Flavigny we find a story implying that deceit was (once more) the reason for Frankish success. The brief story takes place in the immediate aftermath of the duke’s death. Hugh describes how the Franks laid siege to Treviso (the same siege appeared in the Chronicon of Moissac), ruled by Duke Stabilinus, a relative of Hrodgaud (‘in Tharavisa Italiae civitate Stabilinum socerum Chrotgaudi’). This episode cannot be dated, but eventually an ‘Italian’ man called Peter (‘Petrus vir Italicus’) handed the city to the Franks. Peter was eventually rewarded with the see of Verdun.56 The origin of the story is unknown, but it must have had some roots in the city of Treviso, perhaps in some North-Alpine circles who perceived the locals as Italici. The very idea of a besieged city betrayed by one of the citizens and offered to the besieging army was an 54 K. Brunner, Oppositionelle Gruppen im Karolingerreich, Veröffentlichungen des Instituts für österreichische Geschichtsforschung 25 (Vienna, Cologne, and Graz: Böhlau, 1979), p. 20; quoted in: Krahwinkler, Friaul, p. 124. 55 Andreas of Bergamo, Historia 4; 224. On Gaidus: Gasparri, I duchi, p. 56. 56 Hugh of Flavigny, Chronicon s.a. 776, ed. G.H. Pertz, MGH SS 8 (Hanover: Hahn, 1848), pp. 288-502 (351): ‘[E]t cum obsideret exercitus Karoli in Tharavisa Italiae civitate Stabilinum socerum Chrotgaudi, qui contra Karolum rebellaverat, et propter hoc Karolo Italiam ingresso in bello occisus erat: erat in eadem civitate Petrus vir Italicus, a quo tradita est civitas, et ob hoc de Virdunensi episcopatu honoratus est.’

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old trope in the Mediterranean. One example, among many, is Tarpeia who offered Rome to the army of Titus Tatius.57 The story, nevertheless, was retold at the end of the eighth century by Paul the Deacon and framed by the Avar conquest of Cividale in 611.58 The trope may have been meant to lift responsibility from the defending army, saving its military valour notwithstanding the final defeat. In this context, the story casts a shadow on the Carolingians, implying, as was made before, betrayal as the cause of their victory. The difficulties in finding a single account are revealing. If we cannot have certainty that the stories of Andreas and Hugh stemmed from an older context to the one in which they survive, we are rather safe in acknowledging that the Royal Annalist obeyed contingent necessities. The swift victory of the Franks followed tropes deployed before, since he was rather distant from the political situation of the time. We saw that a battle, however bitter, took place and that Hrodgaud’s followers had strong roots in the Lombard Austrasia (such as Count Aio), which could not be easily severed as the Annalist claimed. The rebellion, instead of displaying Frankish supremacy, showed, as Jennifer Davies has remarked, their fragile positions and the difficulties of conquest.59 The Frankish narratives, nevertheless, responded to the necessity of depicting the Lombards as faint-hearted and unwarlike adversaries to define their character and identity and delegitmise their actions and their right to rule.

Splenduit Italia In 781, Pope Hadrian baptized Carloman, Charlemagne’s (third) born, with the kingly name Pippin.60 This may have been a way of reminding the Franks of their duties towards the Church.61 For our purposes, it inaugurated a new attitude of the Roman pontiffs toward the kingdom and its rulers. Also 57 A.A. Semioli, Tarpeia e la presenza sabina in Roma arcaica (Roma: Bulzoni, 2010), pp. 27-56. 58 Paulus Diaconus, Historia Langobardorum IV, 37; 127-130. 59 Davis, Charlemagne’s Practice, pp. 136-137. 60 On Pippin of Italy: F. Manacorda, Ricerche sugli inizi della dominazione dei Carolingi in Italia, Studi storici 22 (Rome: G. Bardi, 1968); G. Albertoni, Italia carolingia, Studi superiori 347 (Rome: Carocci, 1998) pp. 26-31. Moreover, the forthcoming: Spes Italiae: Il regno di Pipino, i Carolingi e l’Italia, (781-810), ed. Idem and F. Borri, HAMA (Turnhou: Brepols, forthcoming). 61 D. Geuenich, ‘Pippin, König von Italien (781-810)’, in Wandel und Konstanz zwischen Bodensee und Lombardei zur Zeit Karls des Grossen, ed. H.R. Sennhauser, with K. Roth-Rubi and E. Kühne, Acta Müstair 3 (Zürich: Vdf Hochschulverlag, 2013), pp. 111-123 (114).

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north of the Alps, a new rhetoric about the warlike attitude of the Italian kings began to circulate.62 In these new circumstances, the disorder provoked by the Lombards, and the violence enforced by the Franks to overcome them needed to become less visible. As is well known, Paul the Deacon did not mention the Frankish takeover in his History of the Lombards, which ends with the death of King Liutprand in 744, but he did record the conquest in his Deeds of the Bishops of Metz, perhaps commissioned in 783.63 There the Deacon stressed the absence of bloody battles and Charlemagne’s clemency: ‘[U]niversam sine gravi praelio suae subdidit dicioni,’ while the following victory was characterized by clemency and moderation: ‘[C]lementi moderatione victoriam temperavit.’ The following rebellion of Hrodgaud is not mentioned.64 In the Historia Langobardorum codicis Gothani, a narrative composed in northern Italy in the first years on the ninth century, the anonymous author omits almost every military aspect of the conquest and the Frankish takeover becomes a sort of conversion.65 It was justice that moves Charlemagne to his divinely-inspired mission (‘nam nulli lucre cupiditas peragrare, sed bono pius et misericors factus est adiuvator). Although the king had the power to destroy the whole kingdom, he opted to spare the Lombards, offering them laws and granting fertility to their land (‘Pro quod illi omnipotens Deus centies multiplicavit ubertates’).66 Here the clemency of Charlemagne is accompanied by the affirmation of the Franks’ military superiority: the king could have easily crushed the Lombards, but because of his piety, he opted for saving the land. The Lombards do not play any role in the process. Years later, while discussing the glorious conquests of the Franks, Ermold the Black avoided any mention of Italy.67 The Royal Frankish Annals are revealing and help us to partially grasp the occasionally contradictory transformation in the discourse about the Frankish rule of Italy. The negative characterisation of the Lombards as faithless and cowardly shifted, in the entries of Pippin’s years, toward the 62 Gasparri, Italia longobarda, pp. 163-164. 63 On this: Heath, The Narrative Worlds, pp. 86-107. 64 Paul the Deacon, Gesta episcoporum Mettensium, ed. G.H. Pertz, MGH SS 2 (Hanover: Hahn, 1829), pp. 260-268 (265). 65 Historia Langobardorum codicis Gothani, ed. L.A. Berto, Testi storici e poetici dell’Italia carolingia, Medioevo Europeo 3 (Padua: Cleup, 2002), pp. 1-19. 66 Historia langobardorum codicis Gothani 10; 16. 67 Ermold the Black, In honorem Hludowici christianissimi Caesaris Augusti 2150-2163, ed. E Faral, Poème sur Louis le Pieux et épîtres au roi Pépin, Les Classiques de l’Histoire de France au Moyen Age 14, 2nd ed. (Paris: Champion, 1964), p. 164.

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Beneventans and the other Italian rivals of the Franks. In the annotation of 787, princeps Arechis II (758-787) is so afraid of Charlemagne’s presence in Rome that he does not dare encounter the king, sending his son Grimoald III (787-806) in his place. The Royal Annalist clearly states the duke of Benevento ‘et timore perterritus non fuit ausus per semet ipsum faciet domni regis Caroli videre’.68 Arechis is moreover the protagonist of a letter exchange between the pope and Charlemagne. Here the discourse of an alliance between the long erstwhile enemies, Lombard and Greci, introduced at the immediate eve of the Frankish conquest of Italy and afterward conf irmed in the days of Hrodgaud’s revolt, was reaff irmed and further developed. In a rather confused plot, Arechis was ready to offer allegiance to the emperor of Constantinople to support Adelchis’ return. He would adopt Greek fashion, obtain the title of patrician and extend his authority over Naples. On his side, he would help the empire’s return to Ravenna.69 As before, this account is probably to a great extent a construct of the pope. Nevertheless, they are revealing of a changing discourse on the Italians. This negative characterisation extended also to the Venetians, most clearly during Pippin’s efforts in the Lagoons in the first decade of the ninth century. In the entry of 809, Pippin is moved to bring war against the Venetians due to the perfidy of their dukes (‘perfidia ducum Veneticorum’).70 Though Beneventans (and Venetians) mostly continue to embody the vices and weakness typical of the Lombards, it was now the Italian armies’ turn to inspire awe and terror in their adversaries and to cut havoc among their lines. In 788, King Pippin moved to Trento, while part of his army marched further north entering Bavaria and reaching Bolzano. Duke Tassilo III (748-788) was thus overwhelmed with terror, surrendering himself without a battle.71 For the same year, the Royal Annalist also described an imperial attack to Southern Italy. After two decades of trepidation the empire of Constantinople finally managed to launch an expedition on the shores of Calabria. As whispered long since, the reclusive king Adelchis was among the leading generals of the enterprise. The burden of battle was left to the Lombard troops alone. Under the scrutiny of a small group of Franks (the Chronicle of Moissac only records a ‘missus de Karoli regis’), Grimoald of Benevento, together with Hildebrand of Spoleto met the imperial army on 68 69 70 71

Annales regni Francorum 787; 74. On Arechis II: Gasparri, I duchi, pp. 98-99. Codex Carolinus 88; 617. Annales regni Francorum 810; 130. Annales regni Francorum 787; 78.

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the field.72 The Italians won the day: the Royal Annalist comments that God granted victory to the Lombards and the Franks (although the latter must have done very little).73 Alcuin recalled that the duces regis drove the Greci to their ships, killing four thousands of them and capturing one thousand more, implicitly comparing the Italian army to the Trojans led by Hector.74 Their inclusion in the Frankish polity brought majesty and God’s help to the Lombards. This new assessment of the Italian armies reached its height during Pippin’s campaigns in Pannonia. In his master’s life, Einhard narrated that the war against the Avars was the second greatest achievement of Charlemagne’s reign.75 In the 791 entry of the Lorsch Annals, Pippin led the ‘exercitus […] de Italia’ in Pannonia.76 There they pillaged the land for weeks without encountering any resistance. Similar accounts are to be found in most of the Carolingian chronicles.77 Even more triumphalist are the tones deployed for the following campaign of 796, which ended with the pillage of the Avar treasure. In the Chronicle of Moissac, Franks, Lombards, and Bavarians follow the king in battle. There Pippin conquers the Hring (here spelled Rinnus) and, loaded with Avar gold, he returns to Francia.78 Akin to the episode of the Clausae, these accounts agree that the enemies (Avar, like Lombard) were unable to organise any form of armed resistance. Most outspoken is the lay of Pippin’s Victory over the Avars. Once the king advanced in Pannonia to ‘depopulate pupulum / montes, silvas atque colles’, the ruler of the Avar was frozen with terror (‘undique perterritus’), rushing to pay homage to Pippin.79 Like the soldiers of Desiderius before, the Avars did not dare to confront the Frankish armies. 72 Annales regni Francorum 788; 82; Chronicon Moissiacense 789, ed. G.H. Pertz, MGH SS 1 (Hanover: Hahn, 1826), pp. 280-313 (298). On Hildebrand: Gasparri, I duchi, pp. 84-85. 73 Annales regni Francorum 788; 82: et auxiliante Domino victoria est facta a Francis seu supranominati Langobardis. 74 Alcuin, Epistolae 7, ed. E. Dümmler, MGH Epp. 4 (Berlin: Weidmann, 1895), pp. 1-481 (32): Greci vero tertio anno cum classe venerunt in Italiam; et, a ducibus regis praefati victi, fugerunt ad naves. Quattuor milia ex illis occisi et mille captivi feruntur. 75 Einhard, Vita Karoli Magni 13; 15. 76 Annales Laureshamenses 791, ed. G.H. Pertz, MGH SS 1 (Hanover: Hahn, 1826), pp. 19-39 (34). W. Pohl, Die Awaren: Ein Steppenvolk in Mitteleuropa, 567-822 n. Chr., 2nd ed. (Munich: C.H. Beck, 2002), pp. 312-322. 77 Chronicon Moissiacense 791; 299. 78 Chronicon Moissiacense 796; 302: ‘aestatis tempore transmisit rex Carolus Pippinum, filium suum, cum suis quos in Italia habebat, Francos, Langobardos et Bagoarios cum aliqua parte Alamannorum, in finibus Avarorum’. 79 De Pippini regis victoria avarica 23-24; 28, ed. L.A. Berto, Testi storici e poetici dell’Italia carolingia, pp. 67-70 (70).

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The Historia Langobardorum codicis Gothani ends on a note of great hope: thanks to Pippin’s rule, Italy now shines with glory as it did in ancient times (‘sicut fecit antiquissimis diebus’).80 It was a comparison with Ancient Rome, which echoed in other narratives, offering us the fragment of an apparently widespread discourse of the Carolingian Age.81 In the above mentioned lay on Pippin’s Avar victory, the king was successful in building a kingdom which neither Caesar or the other pagani (i.e. the Roman emperors) had been able to create (‘neque Cesar, et pagani’).82 In the Life of Saint Adalhard, Pippin is praised for raising Italy to orthodoxy and greatness.83 A new age had begun, and the element of violence in the Frankish conquest and of the disorder provoked by the Lombard resistance became almost invisible. On the contrary the successes of the Italian armies against their neighbour were exalted through the narrative tropes, which accompanied the Frankish expansion. However, it would be mistaken to see here a complete reversal of perspectives. In this context, the Italian soldiers are seldom described as Lombards (although there are exceptions, such as the Alamannian Annals), even if we know that Langobardi was the probable designation of a division of the Frankish army.84 Authors often called the followers of Pippin Franci or avoided using ethnic designations to describe the Italian armies. This fracture was made crystal clear by the author of the Historia Langobardorum codicis Gothani. Describing the conquest of 774 he dryly comments: ‘[H]ic finitum est regnum Langobardorum et incoavit regnum Italiae.’85 In his History of the Lombards of Benevento, Erchempert offers an alternative account. Akin to Andreas’ narative of Hrodgaud’s revolt, the balance of power shifts. Here, Arechis, who he describes as a pious prince and a mighty warrior, ‘in rebus bellicis strenuissimus’, first resisted an immense Frankish army, and afterwards agreed a truce due to his awareness of Frankish 80 Historia langobardorum codics Gothani 11; 18. 81 H. Fichtenau, Das karolingische Imperium: Soziale und geistige Problematik eines Großreiches (Zurich: Fretz & Wasmuth, 1949), pp. 55-88 82 De Pippini regis victoria avarica 45; 70. 83 Paschasius Radbertus, Vita s. Adalhardi abbatis Corbeiensis 16; 15-17. 84 Annales Alamannici, ed. W. Lendi, Untersuchungen zur früh alemannischen Annalistik: Die Murbacher Annalen, Scrinium Friburgense 1 (Freiburg im Üechtland: Universitätsverlag, 1971), pp. 146-192. On the army designation: T. Reuter, ‘The End of Carolingian Military Expansion’, in Medieval Polities and Modern Mentalities, ed. J.L. Nelson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), pp. 250-267 (258-259); orig. publ. in Charlemagne’s Heir: New Perspectives on the Reign of Louis the Pious (814-840), ed. P. Godman and R. Collins (Oxford: Claredon Press, 1990), pp. 391-405. 85 Historia langobardorum codics Gothani 10; 16.

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malice (‘ab eorum versutiis’).86 His successor Grimoald III is described as Pippin’s antagonist, constantly engaged in a never-ending warfare. The two individuals are described as being equal in valour: Pippin relying on his immense army; Grimoald on his strong fortifications.87 It is clear that the reign of Pippin experienced the creation of a new image for the kings of Italy. The Lombard past was still an embarrassing one, but once Charlemagne’s beloved son became the ruler of the kingdom, the negative stereotypes which characterised the Lombards since the middle of the eighth century were shifted to the fringes of Francia, inhabited by neighbours such as the Beneventans, the Venetians or the Avars. The ruler of Italy and his army was instead described with the rhetoric proper to a Carolingian ruler. It was however only for a brief time: the ghosts of the past were still haunting the peninsula and soon to remerge.

Per tyrannidem imperio usurpare King Pippin died in 810 after his failed assault on the Venetian lagoons. He may have become sick in the unhealthy landscape of the Adriatic swamps, and he died shortly thereafter. His premature demise brought dismay to his followers. Hope may have risen shortly after, when the emperor enforced the clause of Divisio regnorum from 806 and confirmed Pippin’s son Bernard (811-818) as his father’s successor.88 We do not know much about his rule: he must have been a very young boy, as his father had been when he ascended to the throne of Italy.89 Charlemagne ordered count Wala to accompany him in his journey and the young ruler was put under the guardianship of Adalhard of Corbie.90 86 Erchempert, Historia Langobardorum Beneventanorum 2, G. Waitz, MGH Script. rer. Lang. (Hanover: Hahn, 1878), pp. 234-264 (235). 87 Erchempert, Historia Langobardorum Beneventanorum 6; 236. P. Cammarosano, Nobili e re: L’Italia politica dell’alto Medioevo, Il Quadrante 96 (Rome and Bari: Laterza, 1998), p. 140. 88 Divisio regnorum 5, ed. A. Boretius, MGH LL Capit. 1 (Hanover: Hahn, 1883), 45, pp. 126-130 (126). 5. M. Innes, ‘Charlemagne’s Will: Piety, Politics and the Imperial Succession’, English Historical Review 112 (1997), pp. 833-855 (842-845). 89 On the character of Bernard: P. Depreux, ‘Das Königtum Bernhards von Italien und sein Verhältnis zum Kaisertum’, Quellen und Forschungen 72 (1992), 1-24. See, moreover, the older works: B. Malfatti, Bernardo re d’Italia (Firenze: Le Monnier, 1876); E. Mühlbacher, ‘Zur Geschichte Königs Bernhards von Italien’, Mitteilungen des österreichischen Instituts für Geschichtsforschung 2 (1881), 296-302; and the anonymous entry: ‘Bernardo, re d’Italia’, in DBI 9 (1967), pp. 228-231. 90 L. Weinrich, Wala: Graf, Mönch und Rebell, Karolingische Studien 386 (Lübeck and Hamburg: Matthiesen, 1963), pp. 26-27; B. Kasten, Adalhard von Corbie: Die Biographie eines karolingischen

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The reign of Bernard was brief and ended with the young king’s death in the aftermath of an ill-omened rebellion, which brought many powerful aristocrats down with him (notably Theodulf of Orlèans, Count Wala, and a few of the emperor’s stepbrothers).91 That a big storm was coming became clear a few years after Bernard’s rise to the throne: already the 817 Ordinatio Imperii had assigned the King of Italy a very marginal role, where no single mention of the young ruler is to be found.92 Historians see a close connection between this decision and the subsequent rebellion of Bernard against his uncle Louis, although a relationship of causality was clearly established only by the Annalist of Aniane.93 It is only in this narrative that Bernard is shown opting to rebel after having heard of the 817 decisions (‘audiens autem Bernardus’). Moreover, the Annalist depicts Bernard’s objectives as wide-reaching and much darker, going so far as suggesting that the King of Italy wanted to usurp the imperial throne.94 It is again in the Royal Frankish Annals that we can read the off icial version of events.95 In the entry for 817, Emperor Louis has just returned from a royal hunt in the Vosges, when in Aachen he is informed that his nephew Bernard, under the counsel of wicked men (‘pravorum hominum consilio’), is aiming to establish a tyrannis. The young king has already received an oath from the Italian civitates and has taken measures to occupy the Clausae (‘quibus in Italiam intratur, id est clausas’) with Politikers und Klostervorstehers, Studia Humaniora: Düsseldorfer Studien zu Mittelalter und Renaissance 3 (Düsseldorf: Droste, 1986), pp. 68-72. Moreover: Davis, Charlemagne’s Practice, pp. 370-372. 91 See now: S. Patzold, ‘Zwischen Gerichtsurteil und politischem Mord: Der rätselhafte Tod König Bernhards von Italien im Jahr 818’, in Politische Morde in der Geschichte: Von der Antike bis zur Gegenwart, ed. G. Schild and A. Schindling (Paderborn, Munich, Vienna, and Zurich: Ferdinand Schöningh, 2012), pp. 37-54, extensively commenting on previous studies. Moreover: G. Wolf, ‘Nochmals zum sogenannten „Aufstand“ und zum „Prozeß“ König Bernhards von Italien 817/18’, Zeitschrift der Savigny-Stiftung für Rechtsgeschichte: Germanistische Abteilung 115 (1998), 572-588. 92 Ordinatio imperii, ed. A. Boretius, MGH LL Capit. 1 (Hanover: Hahn, 1883), 136, pp. 270-273. 93 Further interpretations are commented in T.F.X. Noble, ‘The Revolt of King Bernard of Italy in 817: Its Causes and Consequences’, Studi medievali 15 (1974), pp. 315-326. On the other hand, Depreux, ‘Das Königtum Bernhards von Italien’, pp. 16-24, connected Bernard’s revolt to Louis’ Roman policy. 94 Chronicon Moissiacense 817; 312: Audiens autem Bernardus ( filius Pippini regis) rex Italiae, quod factum erat, cogitavit consilium pessimum, voluitque in imperatorem et in filios eius insurgere, et per tyrannidem imperium usurpare. On the ‘idyosincratic’ narrative of the Chronicle: R. Kramer, Great Expectations: Imperial ideologies and Ecclesiastical Reforms from Charlemagne to Louis the Pious (813-822) (Ph.D. Thesis FU Berlin, 2014), pp. 366-374. 95 Annales regni Francorum 817; 147.

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his army. The emperor, therefore, musters a great army from Gaul and Germany. On the Italian side, hearing of the emperor’s superior forces, soldiers are daily deserting Bernard’s army so that the king disbands his troops; realising that everything has been a terrible idea, the king goes to Chalon-sur-Saône, fruitlessly begging for mercy. The Astronomer provides a very similar account, but in his narrative the men luring the king are not only wicked men, but also fools (‘consiliis quorundam pravorum hominum adeo dementatum’).96 What followed is widely recorded. Bernard was sentenced to death, Emperor Louis mitigated the punishment to blinding, but the king died soon after anyhow. The Astronomer even suggests that Bernard had caused his own death; how exactly is unclear.97 More descriptively, the Chronicle of Moissac narrates the emperor’s wrath raging against the conspirators, with the kingdom finding rest only once justice is accomplished.98 After the intermission of Pippin’s reign, the rebellion of Bernard apparently cast the Italians back in to their role of treacherous, perfidious, and unwarlike subjects. This discourse began to spread during the very first days of the revolt: in November 817, Archbishop Hetti of Trier wrote to Frothar, the Bishop of Toul, to warn him to be ready for an expedition to Italy. There, Bernard, having been moved by Satan (‘insidiante Satana’) is preparing to rebel against the emperor.99 We recognise some of the tropes that we saw above: the rupture of trust and rebellion against the political and religious order. The word choice was not casual; neither was the Bishop’s announcement a simple reflection of political reality. As noted by Rosamond McKitterick, Hetti was deliberately creating an historical memory, and while writing to Frothar, he propagated 96 Astronomer, Vita Hludovici Imperatoris 29, ed. E. Tremp, Thegan, Die Taten Kaiser Ludwigs; Astronomus, Das Leben Kaiser Ludwigs, MGH SS rer. Germ. 64 (Hanover: Hahn, 1995), pp. 279-555, at 382. 97 On Bernard’s role in his own death: Astronomer, Vita Hludovici Imperatoris 30; 386: ‘dum inpatientius oculorum tulerunt ablationem, mortis sibi consciverunt acerbitatem’. See the reflections of Jarnut, ‘Ludwig der Fromme und König Bernhard von Italien’, p. 646; Depreux, ‘Das Königtum Bernhards’, pp. 23-24. Moreover: Patzold, ‘Zwischen Gerichtsurteil und politischem Mord’, p. 52. 98 As note by Patzold, ‘Zwischen Gerichtsurteil und politischem Mord’, p. 48, the entry closes with the wonderfully evocative: et regnum quivit (imperatoris) ab ira (Chronicon Moissiacense 817; 313). On the meanings of the king’s anger: Fichtenau, Das karolingische Imperium, p. 60; G. Althoff, ‘Ira regis: Prolegomena to a History of Royal Anger’, in Anger’s Past: The Social Uses of an Emotion in the Middle Ages, ed. B.H. Rosenwein (Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 1998), pp. 59-74. 99 Frothar of Toul, Epistolae 2, ed. K. Hampe, MGH Epp. 5 (Berlin: Weidmann, 1899), pp. 285-298 (p. 277): quatenus huniversi se praeparent, qualiter proficisci valeant ad bellum in Italiam, quoniam insidiante satana Bernardus rex disponit rebellare illi.

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it.100 Also in further narratives, the language clearly describes Bernard’s unjust cause by his determination to establish a tyrannis, an element absent in most of the Frankish annals. Tyrannis was an ancient word loaded with meaning, which conclusively dismissed the Italian king’s actions, casting them in an even darker light than the ones of Hrodgaud’s, which we just discussed.101 In the narrative moreover a feeble will of Bernard’s is implied by portraying the agency of pravi homines in his revolt, which in the Astronomer’s account become madmen, ‘dementati’.102 In addition, Thegan not only questioned the legitimacy of Bernard’s political action, but his own paternity too, claiming that he was illegitimate.103 Even narratives produced closer in time to the Italian kings’ actions, such as the Annales sancti Emmerammi Ratisponensis, dismissed Bernard’s action as ‘carmulum’, which is attested in the Bavarian Law, where it meant a rebellion against the king.104 The narrative of Bernard’s revolt follows many tropes that we have already encountered. In no account, do we find that a battle between Bernard’s and Louis’ armies is mentioned. This may make sense: we know that many of Bernard’s followers deserted him during action. Certainly, Count Suppo of Brescia and Bishop Ratold of Verona denounced the ruler to the emperor before any act was started, meeting Louis once he was returning from a hunt in the forests of the Vosges, as mentioned above.105 Jörg Jarnut has 100 R. McKitterick, History and Memory in the Carolingian World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), pp. 265-273. 101 On tyrannis and rebellio in the Carolingian political vocabulary: Brunner, Oppositionelle Gruppen, p. 20. Moreover: T.D. Barnes, ‘Oppressor, Persecutor, Usurper: The Meaning of tyrannus in the Fourth Century’, in Historiae Augustae Colloquium Barcinonense, ed. G. Bonamente and M. Mayer (Bari: Edipuglia, 1996), pp. 55-65. 102 Annales regni Francorum 817; 147; Astronomer, Vita Hludowici imperatoris 29; 382. 103 Thegan, Gesta Hludowici imperatoris 22, ed. E. Tremp, Thegan, Die Taten Kaiser Ludwigs; Astronomus, Das Leben Kaiser Ludwigs, MGH SS rer. Germ. 64 (Hanover: Hahn, 1995), pp. 167-278, at 210: ex concubina natus. Historians believed in the veracity of this witness: K.-F. Werner, ‘Hludowicus Augustus gouverner l’empire chrétien, idées et réalités’, in Charlemagne’s Heir, pp. 3-123 (34); Innes, ‘Charlemagne’s Will’, p. 843; Depreux, ‘Das Königtum Bernhards’, p. 4. See, however: J. Fried, ‘Elite und Ideologie oder Die Nachfolgeordnung Karls des Großen vom Jahre 813’, in La royauté et les élites dans l’Europe carolingienne (du début du IXe aux environs de 929), ed. R. Le Jan, Centre d’Histoire de l’Europe du Nord-Ouest 17 (Villeneuve-d’Ascq: Univ. Charles-de-Gaulle, 1998), pp. 71-109. 104 Annales sancti Emmerammi Ratisponensis Maiores 818, ed. G.H. Pertz, MGH SS 1 (Hanover: Hahn 1826) 91-93 (92): ‘Pernhardus rex carmalum levavit’. Lex Baiwariorum 2, iii, ed. R. Deutinger, Lex Baioariorum: Das recht der Bayern, Editio Bavarica 3 (Regensburg: Friedrich Pustet, 2017), p. 74: ‘Si quis seditionem excitaverit contra ducem suum, quod Baioarii carmulum dicunt, per quem inprimis fuerit levatum, conponat duci DC soldos.’ P. Puntschart, ‘Carmula’, Zeitschrift des Historischen Vereines für Steiermark 26 (1931), pp. 9-20. 105 Astronomer, Vita Hludowici imperatoris 29; 382.

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proposed that the Italian iudices painted a very threatening portrait of Bernard’s plot in order to take advantage of the situation: this is a credible theory, which finds some confirmation in the Royal Frankish Annals.106 It also seems probable that the lords of Friuli, among the mightiest of the Italian warlords, did not take position at the king’s side, as I have suggested may have happened in 774.107 Nevertheless, the lack of a proper fight could also echo rather closely the account of Charlemagne’s Italian conquest. Similar to the narrative of these events, a large army is gathered on the fortifications built on the north-western Alpine passes, but no battle is necessary because of the defection of the Italian soldiers. Most of the authors agreed that Bernard’s soldiers left their positions out of fear of Louis’ army.108 Even closer in time is the version by Aniane. In this account, Bernard clearly rebels after the Ordinatio Imperii of 817 and in that context, he aimed to take revenge against Louis and his children usurping the empire. There it is Louis who marches to the Alpine passes, taking control of them (‘occuparent omnes aditus Italiae’). In the aftermath, Bernard’s army is overwhelmed by divine terror and the king, instead of going to his uncle’s court, is captured and brought to his presence in Chalon.109 Frankish authors turned Bernard from a legitimate Carolingian and a nephew of Charlemagne into an Italian king full of the horrendous vices of Desiderius and the Lombards.110 Contemporaries noticed the similarities between Louis’ overthrow of his nephew and Charlemagne’s conquest of the Lombard Kingdom, just a few decades earlier. The two stories may have been conflated in the Chronicle of Salerno, where the author describes a cruel triumph of the Frankish ruler, who orders Desiderius to be blinded.111 106 Annales regni Francorum 817; 147: quod ex parte verum, ex parte falsum erat. J. Jarnut, ‘Ludwig der Fromme und König Bernhard von Italien: Der Versuch einer Rehabilitierung’, Studi medievali 30 (1989), pp. 637-648 (641-642). 107 Krahwinler, Friaul, p. 185. 108 Annale regni Francorum 817; 147; Astronomer, Vita Hludowici imperatoris 29; 623. 109 Chronicon Moissiacense 817; 312: ‘Bernardus autem cum haec audiisset, terruit eum Dominus, ipsum et omnes qui ei consenserant. Et comprehensi sunt ab exercitu, quem imperator miserat ante faciem suam; et comprehensos cum ipso rege adduxerunt ad imperatorem, qui erat tunc apud Cavalonem n quae est super Sagonna flumen.’ 110 I greatly benefited from discussing this topic with Rutger Kramer. 111 Chronicon Salernitanum 9, ed. U. Westerbergh, Chronicon Salernitanum: A Critical Edition with Studies on Literary and Historical Sources and on Language, Studia Latina Stockholmiensia 3 (Lund: Hakan Ohlssons Boktryckeri, 1954), p. 11: ‘Postquam Italiam rex Karolus venit, rex Italie Desiderius a suis quippe, ut dudum diximus, fidelis callide ei traditus fuit, quod ille vinctum suis militibus tradidit, et ferunt alii, ut lumine eum privasset.’ On this: Gasparri, Italia longobarda, p. 145.

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Blinding, an atrocious punishment, was again a codified measure and a clear literary trope, rather than the description of savage violence. The torment of blinding had a long and sad tradition, rooted in Rome and which continued both in Constantinople and the successor kingdoms to be newly codified in the Carolingian Age. The compassionate king was, indeed, able to mitigate the capital punishment intended for the rebels. It was a practice, which meant mercy, allowing, in the meantime, the sovereign to ‘manifest fully the character of his power’.112 Beyond the narrative of Bernard’s wickedness, killing a Carolingian was not a task to be taken easily and powerful rhetoric was employed to strengthen Louis’ position and justify his actions. As we saw, the emperor became acquainted with Bernard’s plot once returning from a hunt. Eric Goldberg has explained that hunting, as a royal activity, reached a climatic point exactly during the reign of Louis the Pious.113 Hunting was a metaphor for military success in the years which followed the end of the Carolingian expansion, but it was also a means to express moral and ideological continuity between Louis and his father. According to Goldberg’s thoughtful study, 817 was the first entry in the Royal Frankish Annals to portray Louis in a royal hunt.114 On the eve of Bernard’s defeat and death, which had many connections to the 774 conquest of Lombard Italy, but could also become a dangerous precedent for the murder of a legitimate Carolingian ruler, the Royal Annalist remembered that Louis the Pious, like his father Charlemagne, was a passionate hunter, thus reaffirming a continuity of intent and actions between the two rulers. As in the 770s, what is missing is the perspective of the Italians, which must have existed, but is now almost lost to us. Nevertheless, we can draw close to this viewpoint. In the Vision of the Poor Woman of Laon, written by Heito, Bishop of Basel (803-823) and Abbot of Reichenau (806-823), or by one of his close collaborators, we find an alternative reading of Bernard’s tragic affair.115 In a gloomy vision of the Afterlife, a poor woman, guided by a man dressed in a monk‘s habit (‘homo in monachico habitu constitutus’), walks among tormented wrongdoers. Emperor Charlemagne (‘quendam 112 G. Bührer-Thierry, ‘«Just Anger» or «Vengeful Anger»?: The Punishment of Blinding in the Early Medieval West’ in Angers Past, pp. 75-91 (81). 113 E.J. Goldberg, ‘Louis the Pious and the Hunt’, Speculum 88 (2013), 613-643. 114 Goldberg, ‘Louis the Pious’, p. 625. 115 Visio cuiusdam pauperculae mulieris, ed. H. Houben, ‘Visio cuiusdam pauperculae mulieris: Überlieferung und Herkunft eines frühmittelalterlichen Visionstextes (mit Neuedition)’, Zeitschrift für die Geschichte des Oberrheins 124 (1976), pp. 31-42 (41-42). On the Visio: P. Dutton, The Politics of Dreaming in the Carolingian World (Lincoln-Nebr. and London: University of Nebraska Press, 1994), pp. 73-74.

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principem Italiae’) is among them. Terrible was the punishment destined for queen Ermengarda, Louis’ first wife, who in later traditions became the main felon in the tragedy of Bernard’s death.116 In the poor woman’s vision, three gigantic teeth (‘tres quasi molares’) drag the queen down to her dark purgatorial pit. The woman of Laon eventually reaches dizzying walls (‘murum, cuius cacumen celum usque tendebat’), which the monk explains are the ramparts of the terrestrial paradise. The monk adds that only the ones whose names are written on the stone can enter the place. Due to its radiance, Bernard’s name is almost obliterating that of Louis. The monk explains that Louis’ name was once the most shinning, but due to his involvement in Bernard’s murder, it is now fading to black. This is a narrative deeply influenced by the tendency of depicting the imperial function in metaphors of light, as noted by Herwig Wolfram.117 Most important it depicts Bernard as a just ruler, unjustly murdered; an idea also confirmed by Andreas of Bergamo.118

Conclusion Looking at the troubled period between Charlemagne’s conquest of Italy in 774 and the death of his grandson Bernard in 818, we realise how the many bitter conflicts of that time were described according to a rather limited pool of motives reflecting the existence of concurring discourses about violence and conquest. Reducing complexity to some extent, we could realise that on many occasions the narratives paid little attention to a factual description of military encounters, preferring to describe conflict according to entrusted and redundant tropes. We therefore find soldiers fleeing the battlefield overwhelmed by fear, or men betraying their own to concede victory to their enemies. Elsewhere, narratives completely disagree on a battle’s outcome, such as the 776 revolt of Hrodgaud. Readers could easily decode these stories which became descriptive of the identity and means of the combatants: the lack of battles clearly denoted a supposed Lombard incapacity to fight, and their kings’ unfitness to rule, while the help of a 116 M. Hartmann, Die Königin im Mittelalter (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2007), pp. 106-107; Albertoni, Italia carolingia, p. 41. 117 H. Wolfram, Splendor Imperii: Die Epiphanie von Tugend und Heil in Herrschaft und Reich (=Festschrift zur Jahrtausendfeier der Kaiserkrönung Ottos des Großen III), Mitteilungen des Instituts für Österreichische Geschichtsforschung: Ergänzungsband 20/3 (Graz and Cologne: Böhlau, 1963); also Fichtenau, Das karolingische Imperium, p. 59; Bührer-Thierry, ‘«Just Anger»’, pp. 82-84. 118 Andreas of Bergamo 5; 224.

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trickster condemned the Frankish nature as deceitful. Both, moreover, could echo famous stories from Classical Antiquity known to the audience. Although laconic, stereotypical, and contradictory, these stories were deeply meaningful. Far from being passive depictions of conflict, they were carefully crafted tales, belonging to a cultural code that went beyond the text: narratives of conflict were a means not only to explain the transformation of the political landscape, but also to describe the very nature of its actors to different audiences who gazed at the contemporary and past events with different fears, hopes and expectations. What is most suggestive is that these appeared to be broadly shared tropes so that many audiences were able to decode them. Indeed, the triumphal rhetoric of the Carolingians was bent against them by their own detractors. Almost hopeless as a means to reconstruct a military history of the age, these narratives remain the memory of conflict and its discourses during troubled times. ****

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Regino of Prüm, Chronicon, F. Kurze (ed.), Reginonis abbatis Prumiensis Chronicon cum continuatione Treverensi (MGH SrG 50) (Hannover: Hahn, 1890). Thegan, Gesta Hludowici imperatoris 22, E. Tremp (ed.), Thegan, Die Taten Kaiser Ludwigs; Astronomus, Das Leben Kaiser Ludwigs, (MGH SrG) (Hannover: Hahn, 1995), pp. 167-278. Visio cuiusdam pauperculae mulieris, H. Houben (ed.), ‘Visio cuiusdam pauperculae mulieris: Überlieferung und Herkunft eines frühmittelalterlichen Visionstextes (mit Neuedition)’, Zeitschrift für die Geschichte des Oberrheins 124 (1976), pp. 31-42.

Secondary Sources ‘Bernardo, re d’Italia’, in DBI 9 (1967), pp. 228-231 (no author noted) 774: Ipotesi su una transizione, S. Gasparri (ed.) (Turnhout: Brepols, 2008). Albertoni, G., Italia carolingia, Studi superiori 347 (Roma: Carocci, 1998). Albertoni, G. and F. Borri (eds.), Spes Italiae: Il regno di Pipino, i Carolingi e l’Italia, (781-810) (HAMA) (Turnhout: Brepols, forthcoming). Albertz, A., Exemplarisches Heldentum: Die Rezeptionsgeschichte der Schlacht an den Thermopylen von der Antike bis zur Gegenwart (München: Oldenbourg, 2006). Rosenwein, Barbara (ed.), Anger’s Past: The Social Uses of an Emotion in the Middle Ages (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1998). Althoff, Gerd, ‘Ira regis: Prolegomena to a History of Royal Anger’, in Anger’s Past, pp. 59-74. Bachrach, B., Early Carolingian Warfare: Prelude to Empire (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2001). Bachrach, D.S., Religion and the Conduct of War c.300-c.1215 (Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2003). Barbero, A., Carlo Magno: Un padre dell’Europa (Roma: Laterza, 2000). Barnes, T.D., ‘Oppressor, Persecutor, Usurper: The Meaning of Tyrannus in the Fourth Century’, in G. Bonamente and M. Mayer (eds.), Historiae Augustae Colloquium Barcinonense (Bari: Edipuglia, 1996), pp. 55-65. Brunner, K., Oppositionelle Gruppen im Karolingerreich (Wien Böhlau, 1979). Bührer-Thierry, G., ‘Just Anger» or «Vengeful Anger? The Punishment of Blinding in the Early Medieval West’ in Angers Past, pp. 75-91. Cammarosano, P., Nobili e re: L’Italia politica dell’alto Medioevo (Roma: Laterza, 1998). Cardini, F., Alle radici della cavalleria medievale (Bologna: Il Mulino, 2014). Charlemagne’s Heir: New Perspectives on the Reign of Louis the Pious (814-840), P. Godman and R. Collins (eds.) (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1990). Davis, J.R., Charlemagne’s Practice of Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015).

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Depreux, P., ‘Das Königtum Bernhards von Italien und sein Verhältnis zum Kaisertum’, Quellen und Forschungen 72 (1992), pp. 1-24. Dutton, P., The Politics of Dreaming in the Carolingian World (Lincoln-Nebr: University of Nebraska Press, 1994). Fichtenau, H., Das karolingische Imperium: Soziale und geistige Problematik eines Großreiches (Zürich: Fretz & Wasmuth, 1949). Flierman, R., ‘Gens perfida or populus Christianus? Saxon (In)Fidelity in Frankish Historical Writing’ in C. Gantner, R. McKitterick, and S. Meeder (eds.), The Resources of the Past in Early Medieval Europe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), pp. 188-205. Fried, J., ‘Elite und Ideologie oder Die Nachfolgeordnung Karls des Großen vom Jahre 813’, in R. Le Jan (ed.), La royauté et les élites dans l’Europe carolingienne (du début du IXe aux environs de 929) (Villeneuve-d’Ascq: Univ. Charles-de-Gaulle, 1998), pp. 71-109. Gantner, C., Freunde Roms und Völker der Finsternis: Die päpstliche Konstruktion von Anderen im 8. und 9. Jahrhundert (Wien: Böhlau, 2014) Gasparri, S., ‘Istituzioni e poteri nel territorio friulano in età longobarda e carolingia’, in Paolo Diacono e il Friuli altomedievale (secc. VI-X), Atti del XIV Congresso internazionale di studi sull’alto Medioevo (Spoleto: CISAM, 2001), pp. 105-128 Gasparri, S., I duchi longobardi, Studi storici 109 (Roma: Istituto storico italiano per il Medioevo, 1978) Gasparri, S., Italia longobarda: Il regno, i Franchi, il papato (Roma: Laterza, 2012) Geuenich, D., ‘Pippin, König von Italien (781-810)’, in H.R. Sennhauser, with K. RothRubi and E. Kühne (eds.), Wandel und Konstanz zwischen Bodensee und Lombardei zur Zeit Karls des Grossen (Zürich: Vdf Hochschulverlag, 2013), pp. 111-123. Ginzburg, C., ‘Unus testis: Lo sterminio degli ebrei e il principio dei realtà’, Quaderni storici 27 (1992), pp. 529-548. Goldberg, Eric J., ‘Louis the Pious and the Hunt’, Speculum 88 (2013), pp. 613-643. Hartmann, F., Hadrian I. (772-795): Frühmittelalterliches Adelspapsttum und die Lösung Roms vom byzantinischen Kaiser (Stuttgart: Hiersemann, 2006). Hartmann, M., Die Königin im Mittelalter (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2007). Heath, Christopher, The Narrative Worlds of Paul the Deacon: Between Empires and Identities in Lombard Italy (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2017). Hlawitschka, E., Franken, Alemannen, Bayern und Burgunder in Oberitalien (774-962), Forschungen zur oberrheinischen Landesgeschichte 8 (Freiburg im Bresgau: Albert, 1960). Innes, M., ‘Charlemagne’s Will: Piety, Politics and the Imperial Succession’, EHR 112 (1997), pp. 833-855. Jarnut, J., ‘Ludwig der Fromme und König Bernhard von Italien: Der Versuch einer Rehabilitierung’, Studi Medievali 30 (1989), pp. 637-648.

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Kasten, B., Adalhard von Corbie: Die Biographie eines karolingischen Politikers und Klostervorstehers (Düsseldorf: Droste, 1986). Krahwinkler, H., Friaul im Frühmittelalter: Geschichte einer Region vom Ende des fünften bis zum Ende des zehnten Jahrhunderts (Wien: Böhlau, 1992). Kramer, Rutger, Great Expectations: Imperial ideologies and Ecclesiastical Reforms from Charlemagne to Louis the Pious (813-822) (Ph.D. Thesis: FU Berlin, 2014). Malfatti, B., Bernardo re d’Italia (Firenze: Le Monnier, 1876). Manacorda, F., Ricerche sugli inizi della dominazione dei Carolingi in Italia, Studi storici 22 (Roma: G. Bardi, 1968) McKitterick, Rosamond, History and Memory in the Carolingian World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004). Mor, C.G., ‘L’ultima bandiera longobarda: Rotgaudo’, in G.C. Menis (ed.), Due date friulane 776, 1077, Quaderni della Fondazione De Claricini Dornpacher 2 (Udine: Fondazione De Claricini Dornpacher, 1981), pp. 3-14. Moro, P., ‘L’estrema difesa longobarda contro Carlo Magno: la battaglia del fiume Livenza (776)’, in P. Mona (ed.), I Longobardi e la guerra: Da Alboino alla battaglia sulla Livenza (secc. VI-VIII) (Roma: Viella, 2004), pp. 9-16. Mühlbacher, E., ‘Zur Geschichte Königs Bernhards von Italien’, Mitteilungen des österreichischen Instituts für Geschichtsforschung 2 (1881), pp. 296-302. Nelson, J.L., ‘Making a Difference in Eighth-Century Politics: The Daughters of Desiderius’, in A.C. murray (ed.), After Rome’s Fall: Narrators and Sources of Early Medieval History (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1998), pp. 171-190. Noble, T.F.X., ‘The Revolt of King Bernard of Italy in 817: Its Causes and Consequences’, Studi medievali 15 (1974), pp. 315-326. Patzold, S., ‘Zwischen Gerichtsurteil und politischem Mord: Der rätselhafte Tod König Bernhards von Italien im Jahr 818’, in G. Schild and A. Schindling (eds.), Politische Morde in der Geschichte: Von der Antike bis zur Gegenwart (Paderborn: Ferdinand Schöningh, 2012), pp. 37-54. Pohl, W., ‘Das Papsttum und die Langobarden’, in Der Dynastiewechsel von 751: Vorgeschichte, Legitimationsstrategien und Erinnerung, M. Becher and J. Jarnut (eds.) (Münster: Scriptorium, 2004), pp. 145-161. Pohl, W., Die Awaren: Ein Steppenvolk in Mitteleuropa, 567-822 n. Chr., (München: C.H. Beck, 2002) Puntschart, P., ‘Carmula’, Zeitschrift des Historischen Vereines für Steiermark 26 (1931), pp. 9-20. Reimitz, Helmut, History, Frankish Identity, and the Framing of Western Ethnicity, 550-850 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015). Reuter, Timothy, ‘The End of Carolingian Military Expansion’, in J.L. Nelson (ed.), Medieval Polities and Modern Mentalities (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), pp. 250-267 (orig. publ. in Charlemagne’s Heir, pp. 391-405).

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Richardson, J., ‘The Complications of Quellenforschungen: The Case of Livy and Fabius Pictor,’ in B. Mineo (ed.), A Companion to Livy (Chichester: Wiley, 2015), pp. 178-189. Rossi-Sabatini, G., ‘Aione’, in DBI 1 (1960), p. 534. Schmid, K., ‘Zur Ablösung der Langobardenherrschaft durch die Franken’, Quellen und Forschungen 52 (1972), pp. 1-36. Semioli, A.A., Tarpeia e la presenza sabina in Roma arcaica (Roma: Bulzoni, 2010). Sernagiotto, L., La rivolta di Rotgaudo contro i Carolingi (776): Indagine preliminare sull’identità longobarda in Friuli (Tesi di laurea: Università degli Studi di Padova, 2006-2007). Sidebottom, H., Ancient Warfare: A Very Short Introduction (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004). Stock, Brian, The Implications of Literacy: Written Language and Models of Interpretation in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries (Cambridge-Mass.: Princeton University Press, 1983). Story, J., ‘Cathwulf, Kingship, and the Royal Abbey of Saint-Denis,’ Speculum 74 (1999), pp. 1-21. Tabacco, Giovanni ‘L’avvento dei Carolingi nel regno dei Longobardi,’ in Il regno dei Longobardi in Italia, ed. S. Gasparri, Istituzioni e società 4 (Spoleto: Editoria del Centro, 2004), pp. 443-479. Watzlawick, P., Vom Schlechten des Guten oder Hekates Lösungen (Piper: München, 1986). Weinrich, L., Wala: Graf, Mönch und Rebell, Karolingische Studien 386 (Lübeck: Matthiesen, 1963). Werner, K.-F., ‘Hludowicus Augustus gouverner l’empire chrétien, idées et réalités’, in Charlemagne’s Heir, pp. 3-123. Wickham, Chris, Framing the Early Middle Ages: Europe and the Mediterranean 400-800 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005). Winckler, K. v., ‘Gemeine Plätze: Die Wahrnehmung der Alpen in (Spät)antike und (Früh)mittelalte’, in: Berg & Leute: Tirol als Landschaft und Identität, ed. U. Leitner, Schriften zur Politischen Ästhetik 1 (Innsbruck: Innsbruck University Press, 2014), pp. 302-324. Wolf, G., ‘Nochmals zum sogenannten „Aufstand” und zum „Prozeß“ König Bernhards von Italien 817/18’, Zeitschrift der Savigny-Stiftung für Rechtsgeschichte: Germanistische Abteilung 115 (1998), pp. 572-588. Wolfram, H., Splendor Imperii: Die Epiphanie von Tugend und Heil in Herrschaft und Reich (=Festschrift zur Jahrtausendfeier der Kaiserkrönung Ottos des Großen III), Mitteilungen des Instituts für Österreichische Geschichtsforschung: Ergänzungsband 20/3 (Graz: Böhlau, 1963).

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About the Author Francesco Borri teaches Medieval History at the University of Venice. He researches on historiography, identity, structures of power, and communication during the early Middle Ages, having published the results of his studies in international peer-reviewed journals and co-authored volumes. A book on King Alboin was issued in 2016.

5

‘Nec patiaris populum Domini ab illis divinitus fulminandis Agarenis discerpi’ Handling ‘Saracen’ Violence in Ninth-Century Southern Italy Kordula Wolf

Abstract Based on selected Latin sources, this chapter focusses on physical violence between Christians and Muslims in ninth-century southern Italy and analyses its actors, dimensions, circumstances, and consequences. Despite rhetorical exaggerations and the victim’s perspective, the sources provide evidence for a decade-long state of armed conflicts, of sustained threats, far-reaching devastation, and significant numbers of victims among the Christian populations. The Muslim presence influenced new dimensions of violence, with consequences for demographic, economic, and political structures in the affected regions. Several factors work together to characterise southern Italy as an ‘area permeated with violence’ (gewaltoffener Raum) and as a border region where several ‘violent communities’ were continuously competing for resources and power, also leaving, however, room for non-violent options. Keywords: violence, Christian-Muslim relations, southern Italy, border region, papacy, Rome

In varying degrees, violence has always been an option for action and belongs to the inventory of probably all people at all times, be it personally exercised, experienced, observed, or (re)presented in oral narratives, written texts, images, or in the media. Far from being an innate instinct, aggression can

Heath, C. and R. Houghton (eds.), Conflict and Violence in Medieval Italy 568-1154. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press 2022 doi: 10.5117/9789462985179_ch05

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be understood as the output of several psychological systems that differ in their environmental triggers, their internal logic, their neurobiological basis, and their social distribution.1 It is both an individual action and a manifestation of social relationships between different entities. Violence has therefore not only actors. It is also the result of actions or manifests itself in them. As a consequence, and so far, as historical perspectives are concerned, the individual violent act and the social practice of violence as well as its perception have to be seen against the background of specific conditions and dynamics.2 Violence research is an important field of scientific debate in many disciplines. However, there is no consensus on what can be called ‘violence’ which prompts conceptual and methodological questions. For example, physical, psychological, structural, symbolic, cultural, political, individual, or collective violence can be distinguished, and in doing so also practices of infliction and suffering.3 Mainly – and this applies to the medieval disciplines, too – events of physical violence, i.e. activities aimed at deliberately damaging a person’s physical integrity, are at the centre of research. 4 During the Middle Ages, violence was almost omnipresent in the everyday world of experience and in ideas; and the related mortality rate was also very high.5 Recently, debate has been stimulated by an interesting longterm study which concluded that social-political organisation significantly influenced the mortality caused by violence.6 In contrast to human life in I would like to express my profound thanks to Christopher Heath who put the finishing linguistic touches on this text. 1 Pinker, The Better Angels, in particular pp. xxiii-xxiv, 580-688. 2 Gudehus and Christ, ‘Vorwort’, pp. VII-VIII; this is emphasised also with regard to the analysis of medieval violence, cf. Mauntel, ‘Das Maß der Gewalt’, pp. 131-134; Braun and Herberichs, ‘Gewalt im Mittelalter’. 3 Christ and Gudehus, ‘Gewalt – Begriffe und Forschungsprogramme’. 4 For the definition of physical violence, see Braun and Herberichs, ‘Gewalt im Mittelalter’, p. 15, Melville, ‘Ein Exkurs’, p. 121, and Christ and Gudehus, ‘Gewalt – Begriffe und Forschungsprogramme’, p. 2. Regarding the debate if the term ‘violence’ should be used only for acts harming the human body, ibid., pp. 2-4. In the field of medieval studies, cf. among others the recent publications La violencia en la sociedad medieval; Killing and Being Killed; Dobschenzki, Von Opfern und Tätern (with focus on hagiography); Gewalt und Widerstand; Mauntel, Gewalt; Religious Violence; Skoda, Medieval Violence; Gewalt im Mittelalter; Brown, Violence in Medieval Europe; Deimann and others, ‘Arbeitsforum C: Gewalt’; Violence in Medieval Society; Nirenberg, Communities of Violence. With focus on non-physical, ritual violence, see Jaser, Ecclesia maledicens. 5 Pinker, The Better Angels, passim; Braun and Herberichs, ‘Gewalt im Mittelalter’, p. 7. Regarding the general problem of measuring violence in medieval times, cf. Mauntel, ‘Das Maß der Gewalt’. 6 Gómez and others, ‘The Phylogenetic Roots’.

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prehistory and in ‘modern states’ characterised by monopolised violence and territorial sovereignty, the application of physical violence (‘physische Gewaltsamkeit’)7 in premodern societies or political communities shows a much higher level of deadly force mostly caused by territorial disputes, population and resource pressures, and competition for political status. Whether religion also matters in this context, is an ongoing discussion. Did the claim to exclusiveness of monotheistic faiths increase the potential for violence both within religious communities and between different religious groups?8 In border regions such as early medieval southern Italy, where people with different cultural and religious backgrounds came into contact, carried out conflicts, and negotiated coexistence, a profound antagonism between Christians and Muslims, based implicitly on religious differences, has frequently been emphasised without much reflection about the connections between religion and violence.9 We might therefore ask if this meta-narrative applied by modern scholarship helps to explain the complex interactions and dynamics in the early medieval ‘Mezzogiorno’. Current research suggests that for people of this time religion was not yet a crucial category used to distinguish the ‘other’;10 and Stefano Palmieri has already shown that for the region of Campania the negative image contemporaries had of Muslims was that of a military (not religious) enemy which made 7 Weber, Politik als Beruf, p. 4. 8 This debate has been very much stimulated by the book of Assmann, Die Mosaische Unterscheidung. Cf. Weltecke, ‘Müssen monotheistische Religionen intolerant sein?’; Thonhauser, Das Unbehagen am Monotheismus. Among many other volumes dedicated to this topic, see also Angenendt, Toleranz und Gewalt; Violence in Civil Society; Bonner, Jihad; or the most discussed book of Soler, La Violence monothéiste. 9 It’s not possible here to list all publications dealing with Muslim-Christian relations in early medieval southern Italy. Negatively-connoted descriptions of ‘Saracens’/‘Arabs’ as violent, looting, and quasi anarchical gangs, robbers, and pirates are quite common in research; see e.g., Cilento, ‘Le condizioni della vita’, p. 446 (‘bande disperse di predoni che sembrano avere quale unico scopo il saccheggio’), or Cilento, Italia meridionale, p. 136 (‘Si tratta soltanto di incursioni, di infiltrazioni, che si insinuano […] nelle terre del mondo cristiano.’); Ruggiero, ‘Il Ducato di Spoleto’, p. 99 (‘funesta piaga saracena’); with great influence on later historians: Gabrieli, ‘Gli Arabi in Terraferma’, pp. 111-114 (‘La lingua, la fede, e lo spirito di rapina costituirono i soli certi denominatori comuni di questi Arabi d’Italia […]. La loro presenza e attività, quasi sempre purtroppo distruttiva, è parte integrante della storia della Penisola […] l’offesa musulmana dilaga per la “Grande Terra” […] 846, anno disastroso per la cristianità della Penisola […] tutto il Mezzogiorno brulicava sempre di bande saracene’). Other such references in secondary literature in Wolf, ‘Gli hypati di Gaeta’, p. 28. 10 But that is not to say that religious differences were not perceived at all. Cf. Goetz, Die christlich-abendländische Wahrnehmung; Goetz, Die Wahrnehmung anderer Religionen; Von Sarazenen und Juden, Heiden und Häretikern; Berto, Cristiani e musulmani, pp. 37-56.

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them not fundamentally different from other Christian aggressors.11 On the other hand, however, the predominant image of independent ‘Saracen’ bands looting, destroying, enslaving, and killing on the mainland during the ninth and tenth centuries has come under critical scrutiny,12 which challenges not only the question as to how far ǧihād (only inadequately translated as ‘holy war’) was the ideological background of far-reaching violence against non-Muslims,13 but also whether the Christian, or more precisely the papal response to it can be seen as the roots of the crusade concept.14 Both problems imply in the way that the ‘Saracen’ presence came with new forms or new dimensions of violence – an assumption that has not been questioned thus far. Physical violence as narrated in different types of texts is our starting point for the following analysis. Of interest here is less the violent act itself (killing, hurting) than its description by contemporaries and the multidimensional situation of violence as a form of interaction between those who commit it and their victims who are anchored in time and space. This approach includes on the one hand the immediate effects of violence (death, changing social constellations due to captivity, slavery, expulsion, flight, or physical and mental suffering due to loss, hunger, thirst, material destruction) and short- and long-term consequences such as the risk for and the transformation of political, social, or economic structures. On the other hand, the threat of violence as well as reactions and dynamics in the context of both experienced and imagined violence will also be evaluated. In this way, even though in a limited degree, the aspect of non-physical violence can be taken into consideration, as well. All transmitted texts can be analysed systematically and critically, for a period of more than two hundred years of continuous Muslim attacks and settlement (of ultimately restricted duration) in the peninsula, and 11 Palmieri, ‘Un esempio di mobilità etnica’, pp. 602-607; Palmieri, ‘Mobilità etnica’, pp. 75, 77. See also Engreen, ‘Pope John’, p. 321; Herbers, Europa, pp. 77-78, 85. That the cruelty of the Saracens could be used as a benchmark to describe the violence of other groups is pointed out in Berto, Cristiani e musulmani, pp.82-85. 12 Marazzi, ‘Ita ut facta videatur’; Wolf, ‘Auf dem Pfade Allahs’; Di Branco and Wolf, ‘Terra di conquista?’; Di Branco and Wolf, ‘Hindered Passages’; Di Branco, 915. 13 Without suff icient evidence in primary sources, a continuous practice of ǧihād in preNorman mainland Italy has been highlighted by Feniello, Sotto il segno del leone, and Del Lungo, Bahr ‘as Shâm. For critical considerations regarding the ǧihād on mainland Italy and further bibliographical references see Di Branco and Wolf, ‘Terra di conquista?’, pp. 126-127, 132-138, 148-151; Wolf, ‘Auf dem Pfade Allahs’, in particular pp. 124, 127-135, 149. 14 With further bibliography recently, Herbers, ‘Frühformen des Kreuzzugs’; Gantner, ‘New Visions’, pp. 418-421.

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for every region where Muslims are reported to have been present in preNorman times. That is why the main research subject will be narrowed to the second half of the ninth century which was a period of intense contact and confrontation between the mainly Christian local population 15 and the new arrivals or already settled/stationed people of Islamic faith 16 by focusing, on an exemplary basis, on those texts whose writers and authors17 were confronted as contemporaries directly or indirectly with episodes of physical and non-physical violence. As representations of violence have always undergone a process of reflection and are imbedded in a practice of narrating such experiences within a social group or to certain sectors of society, it is impossible to find immediate, unfiltered experiences in our sources.18 Regarding our case study, only the Latin written heritage occasionally provides particulars about violence received and exercised, hence we are confronted with a fragmented, unilateral perspective, mostly from a victim’s point of view oriented against the ‘Saracen’ attackers. Nevertheless, sources such as the so-called Chronica Sancti Benedicti Casinensis,19 the Liber pontificalis, 20 Erchempert’s Ystoriola, 21 the Codex Diplomaticus 15 In the following, the term ‘Christian’ refers to members of both the ‘Latin’ and ‘Greek’ church. 16 For the use of the term ‘Muslim’ cf. the considerations in Wolf, ‘Auf dem Pfade Allahs’, p. 142, and Wolf, ‘Facing the Muslims’, note 7. 17 In a very stimulating manner, the concept of authorship has recently been discussed by Delle Donne, ‘Testi’; Delle Donne, ‘Perché tanti anonimi’. 18 Cf. also Rogge, ‘Introduction’, p. 10. 19 Edition: CSBC. This text is a compilation of several historiographical texts transmitted in the Codex Casinensis no. 175 which is dated into c.920. The major part, however, including the relevant passages for our analysis, seems to be written earlier in occasion of Emperor Louis II’s visit at Montecassino around the year 867. Cf. Pratesi, ‘La “Chronica Sancti Benedicti Casinensis”’; Cilento, Italia meridionale, pp. 79 with note 17, 290-291; Pohl, Werkstätte der Erinnerung, pp. 85-95. For an overview of editions and bibliography, see: http://www.geschichtsquellen.de/repOpus_01029. html (retrieved: 21 March 2017). 20 Edition: LP, II. Of particular relevance for our topic are the lives of Gregory IV, Sergius II, and Leo IV. The account about the Muslim attack against Rome in 846 (LP, II, pp. 99-101) has only been preserved as an addition to Sergius II’s vita in a single now-lost manuscript from the ninth century which is quite critical of the pope (cf. Gantner, ‘New Visions’, p. 406 with note 17). In the life of Benedict III, ‘Saracen’ destructions of earlier times are only rarely and briefly reported; in that of Hadrian II we just find mentioned a prayer for the success of Louis II’s military enterprise against Muslims. The lives of John VIII, Marinus I, and Hadrian II are completely missing in the Liber pontificalis and handed down only as short summaries (LP, II). On the LP, its editions and further bibliography: http://www.geschichtsquellen.de/repOpus_03286.html (retrieved: 21 March 2017). 21 New edition: Erch.; also still valid is Waitz’s edition Erchemperti historia. On the text and its context with recent bibliography cf. Erch., pp. 1-80. Erchempert seems not have been writing

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Cavensis,22 the Codex Diplomaticus Cajetanus,23 Pope John VIII’s letters,24 a letter of the Roman Emperor Louis II (850/55-875) written in 871 to the βασιλεύς Basil I (867-886),25 or the Annales Bertiniani26 offer unique insights in this regard and therefore form the basis of this chapter. Descriptions of violence will be examined by looking at terminologies, actors, forms of violent practices, dimensions, circumstances, and consequences, as well as by considering the relationship between representation and ‘reality’. One clear example for the interconnection between violence and counterviolence is a letter written by John VIII in September 876, about one year after the Emperor Louis II had died without male heirs. Its addressee was Boso of Provence, the King of Lower Burgundy and Provence (879-887), with whom the Pope had a close relationship and who at that time was not only the appointed representative of Charles the Bald (875-877) in Italy, but also married to the only daughter of Emperor Louis II. According to the pontiff, armed violence was the right means to deal with the ‘Saracen’ danger, and by repeating his call for military aid, the Pope implores Boso: ‘Do not allow the people of God to be dismembered by these Agarenes (i.e. Muslims), who are crushing us on divine instruction!’.27 In current research, Louis’ death is seen as a caesura, marking the final withdrawal of the Carolingians from the political chessboard of southern Italy which in turn challenged the popes to act more than before as transregional players in order to protect these (allegedly now less-defended) regions.28 We might therefore ask if the cited claim for military help – together with several others of the same period – can be seen as a symptom for an increased ‘Saracen’ pressure and a growing propensity to violence on the part of local people affected by it. And in the interest of a certain secular power (ibid., p. 34). With special regard to his descriptions of violence committed by Muslims, cf. Heath, ‘Violence’. 22 Edition: CDCav, I. 23 Edition: CDCaj, I. 24 Edition: Ioh. VIII epp. Regests and information on each letter in RI, I,4,3. Cf. also Unger, ‘Spes nostra’; Gantner, ‘New Visions’, p. 409 with note 29; Lohrmann, Das Register Papst Iohannes’ VIII. 25 Edition: Chronicon Salernitanum, pp. 107-121, and Ludovici II. epistola ad Basilium I. Cf. Arnaldi, ‘Impero’; Henze, ‘Über den Brief’. 26 Edition: AB. The Annales Bertiniani, a continuation of the Royal Frankish Annals for the period from 741 to 882, consist of three parts whose authorship is known only for the second part (835-861, Bishop Prudentius of Troyes) and the third part (862-882, Archbishop Hincmar of Reims). For a good overview on manuscripts, editions, and literature, cf. http://www.geschichtsquellen. de/repOpus_00211.html (retrieved: 25 March 2017). 27 Ioh. VIII epp., no. 8 p. 7: ‘[N]ec patiaris populum Domini ab illis divinitus fulminandis Agarenis discerpi’. On this letter and its historical context, RI, I,4,3, no. 192. 28 Recently, Schieffer, ‘Die Politik der Karolinger’, p. 77; among others also Arnold, Johannes VIII., p. 224.

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furthermore: What were the perceptions of Muslim aggression? Are there any changes and particularities that – despite the distorted perspective of our sources – can be observed during the second half of the ninth century? And finally, it is also my intention to discuss at least briefly whether the ‘Saracen danger’ triggered local societies in the Italian peninsula to develop into violent communities (‘Gewaltgemeinschaften’).29

Talking and Writing About Violent ‘Saracens’ Regarding Christian-Muslim confrontations in ninth-century southern Italy, contemporary medieval ‘observers’ addressed aggressions harming the human body or causing death in very different ways, but almost always from a point of view of those affected. As is to be expected,30 in relation to the attacking Muslims we f ind distinctive words such as violentia/ violentus,31 crudelitas/crudeli(ssimu)s/crudeliter,32 scelus/sceleratissimus,33 vis,34 efferitas,35 malum,36 persecutio(nes),37 or iniquitas.38 Being part of quite general statements articulating a sense of iniquity, they do not reveal any further detail about particularities regarding physical violence. Moreover, they represent only a small and not even frequent section of various possibilities for addressing the topic. Other terms and formulations have therefore 29 An over view about terminolog y and actual discussion is given by Speitkamp, ‘Gewaltgemeinschaften’. 30 For some of the following terms used in other contexts for describing violent acts, cf. briefly Braun and Herberichs, ‘Gewalt im Mittelalter’, p. 20. 31 AB, p. 43 a. 842; Erch., cap. 25 p. 128; Ioh. VIII epp., no. 31 p. 30. Outside the context of physical conflicts: CDCav, I, no. 86 p. 110 and no. 97 p. 123; in both documents the legal act has to do with the dire consequences of Muslim attacks, but the term violentia is only relevant when the widows Rodelenda and Wiletruda assure to act of their free will (‘palam me facio, ut nulla biolentiam a quabis omine patibula sum; quia nullam biolentiam sum patibolam a quabis hominem, set pura et sincera mea enim bona bolumtatem’). 32 Like in CSBC, p. 476; in Erchempert’s Ystoriola ‘(very) cruel’ (crudelis, crudelissimus, crudeliter) occurs especially for Emir Sawdān of Bari (Erch., cap. 29 pp. 134, 136), but furthermore also für the leader Arrane (cap. 79 p. 200) and for Muslims more in general (cap. 51 p. 168). Explicitly and partly implicitly related to the ‘Saracens’ in Ioh. VIII epp., no. 31 p. 30, no. 33 p. 32, no. 56 p. 51, no. 76 p. 73, 230 p. 205; no. 273 p. 241. 33 LP, II, p. 107; Erch., cap. 29 p. 134, cap. 56 p. 176. 34 AB, p. 43 a. 842; Erch., cap. 19 p. 118. 35 Erch., cap. 29 p. 136. 36 CDCav, I, no. 75 p. 98; Ioh. VIII epp., no. 31 p. 30, no. 32 p. 31, no. 33 p. 32, no. 56 p. 51, no. 59 p. 54, no. 205 p. 165, no. 257 p. 226, no. 278 p. 245. 37 Ioh. VIII epp., no. 13 p. 12, no. 89 p. 85, no. 180 p. 144, no. 205 p. 165, no. 214 p. 192, no. 310 p. 269. 38 LP, II, p. 107.

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to be considered, embedded in two types of descriptions: indirect and direct ones. Putting aside aggressive actions between Christian people which are not the main subject of this study, violence inflicted by Muslims on Christians is, in general, more frequently described than that by Christians on Muslims. In the majority of cases, the injury and death of local people are hidden in accounts about plunder and destruction, without referring explicitly to victims. Let us, as a first step, try to discover more information about physical violence between the lines and behind the words before analysing passages containing more direct descriptions. When writing about Muslims attacking Christians, again and again verbs like depraedare/praedare/praedari,39 (de)vastare, 40 saevire, 41 populare/ populari/depopulare, 42 demolire/demoliri, 43 destruere, 44 diruere, 45 delere, 46 exurere, 47 capere, 48 apprehendere, 49 occupare50, invadere,51 circu(m)ire,52 circumdare,53 circumcludere,54 obsidere,55 (d)irruere,56 expugnare,57 affligere,58 exterminare,59 perire60 as well as their respective participles 39 CSBC, pp. 472, 473, 478; AB, p. 57 a. 849; LP, II, p. 106; Erch., cap. 20 p. 120, cap. 29 p. 136, cap. 38 p. 152, cap. 44 p. 160, cap. 75 p. 196, cap. 79 p. 200; CDCav, I, no. 86 p. 110; Ioh. VIII epp., no. 31 p. 29, 56 p. 51, no. 217 p. 194. 40 CSBC, pp. 472, 473, 476, 478; AB, p. 52 a. 846, 57 a. 849; Erch., cap. 20 p. 120, cap. 56 p. 176, cap. 77 p. 198, cap. 29 p. 134; Ioh. VIII epp., no. 22 p. 20, no. 31 p. 29, no. 31 p. 30, no. 46 p. 45, no. 56 p. 51. 41 CSBC, p. 471. 42 AB, p. 55 a. 847; Erch., cap. 20 p. 120, cap. 35 p. 146, cap. 47 p. 164, cap. 54 p. 174, cap. 56 p. 176; Ioh. VIII epp., no. 56 p. 51; Ludovici II. epistola, p. 391. 43 CSBC, p. 477; Ioh. VIII epp., no. 1 p.1. 44 LP, II, pp. 112, 145; Ioh. VIII epp., no. 31 p. 29. 45 Erch., cap. 44 p. 160, cap. 61 p. 180. 46 Erch., cap. 29 p. 136, cap. 35 p. 146; Ioh. VIII epp., no. 31 p. 29. 47 Erch., cap. 79 p. 200. 48 CSBC, pp. 472-474, 478; LP, II, p. 99; Erch., cap. 29 p. 136, cap. 37 p. 150, cap. 51 p. 170, cap. 57 p. 178, cap. 79 p. 200. 49 Erch., cap. 51 p. 170. 50 AB, p. 52 a. 846. 51 AB, p. 55 a. 847, p. 56 a. 848; LP, II, pp. 100, 101. 52 LP, II, pp. 81, 99. 53 LP, II, p. 100; CDCav, I, no. 97 p. 123, no. 56 p. 51. 54 CDCav, I, no. 86 p. 110. 55 LP, II, p. 107; Erch., cap. 35 p. 146. 56 LP, II, p. 100. 57 Erch., cap. 44 p. 160; Ioh. VIII epp., no. 8 p. 7. 58 Erch., cap. 49 p. 166. 59 Ioh. VIII epp., no. 31 p. 30. 60 Ioh. VIII epp., no. 22 p. 20.

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are used. Part of the same semantic field of armed, warlike violence are the nouns (de)vastatio,61 irruptiones,62 incursio(nes),63 depraedatio(nes),64 desolatio(nes), 65 damna, 66 depopulatio, 67 infestatio, 68 direptio. 69 Of course weapons as instruments to cause harm are not missing in indirect descriptions,70 and also fire is a repeatedly mentioned reason for material destruction and human suffering.71 Often the dimension of the devastations, and implicitly of violent acts, is reinforced by adjectives or adverbs like gravis/graviter,72 fortis,73 acrius,74 totus,75 cunctus,76 universus,77 omnis/ omnia,78 circumquaque,79 atrociter, 80 funditus, 81 nimius, 82 undique, 83 ubique.84 Encompassing words taken in a literal sense can appear exaggerated, so when the chronicler of Montecassino writes about the ‘Saracens’ having devastated almost the whole kingdom (‘regnum’) with fire and sword,85 or when the monk Erchempert (fl. 880s) complains that every 61 CSBC, p. 471; LP, II, pp. 111, 122, 166. 62 AB, p. 64 a. 851; Ioh. VIII epp., no. 46 p. 45. 63 AB, p. 68 a. 853; Erch., cap. 48 p. 166; Ioh. VIII epp., no. 7 p. 6, no. 31 p. 30, no. 74 p. 70, no. 176 p. 141. 64 LP, II, pp. 81, 107, 108, 117, 119, 121, 123; Ioh. VIII epp., no. 46 p. 45, no. 164 p. 134, no. 257 p. 226. 65 LP, II, p. 81; Ioh. VIII epp., no. 309 p. 368. 66 LP, II, p. 117; Ioh. VIII epp., no. 46 p. 45. 67 Erch., cap. 29 p. 34, cap. 39 p. 152. 68 Ioh. VIII epp., no. 56 p. 51, no. 78 p. 74, no. 186 p. 148. 69 Ioh. VIII epp., no. 32 p. 31. 70 CSBC, p. 469 (‘ferroque vastantes’); Erch., cap. 29 p. 134 (‘gladiis (…) devastabat’), cap. 76 p. 198 (‘gladiis (…) tradidit’). 71 CSBC, pp. 469, 472; Erch., cap. 44 p. 160, cap. 47 p. 166, Erch., cap. 77 p. 198. 72 CSBC, p. 471; Erch., cap. 25 p. 128, cap. 38 p. 152, cap. 39 p. 152, cap. 49 p. 166, cap. 77 p. 198. 73 CSBC, p. 471. 74 Erch., cap. 51 p. 170. 75 CSBC, pp. 469, 472, 476; Erch., cap. 20 p. 120, cap. 29 p. 134, cap. 51 p. 168, cap. 54 p. 174; Ioh. VIII epp., no. 56 p. 51. 76 Erch., cap. 35 p. 146, cap. 44 p. 160; Ioh. VIII epp., no. 8 p. 7. 77 CSBC, p. 472; Erch., cap. 75 p. 196; Ioh. VIII epp., no. 8 p. 7. 78 CSBC, pp. 472, 476, 477, 478; AB p. 57 a. 849; LP, II, p. 81; Erch., cap. 18 p. 116, cap. 44 p. 160, cap. 47 p. 164, cap. 49 p. 166, cap. 75 p. 196, cap. 79 p. 200; Ioh. VIII epp., no. 31 pp. 29-30, no. 32 p. 31, no. 33 p. 32, no. 56 p. 51. 79 Erch., cap. 77 p. 198. 80 LP, II, p. 81. 81 LP, II, p. 106; Erch., cap. 29 p. 136, cap. 47 p. 164; Ioh. VIII epp., no. 31 p. 29, no. 89 p. 85, no. 309 p. 368. 82 Erch., cap. 51 p. 170, cap. 54 p. 174. 83 Ioh. VIII epp., no. 180 p. 144, no. 193 p. 155, no. 205 p. 165, no. 257 p. 226. 84 Ioh. VIII epp., no. 257 p. 226. 85 CSBC, p. 469: ‘[T]otumque pene in integrum postmodum regnum igne ferroque vastantes, demoliri sunt’.

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monastery, church, town, fortified place and settlement, mountain, hill, and island had been pillaged.86 In the letter to Boso of Provence quoted above, John VIII described a catastrophic situation: the Agareni were already ‘covering the whole surface of the world like locusts’, and according to ‘a certain source’ one hundred ships were directed to Rome what represented ‘an immense and incomparable evil’ because ‘the downfall of this city is tantamount to the downfall of the whole world, and in the consequence to the doom of the Christian faith’.87 From this short analysis it emerges that the cited papal letter of 876 follows narrative pattern which are also found in other texts of the second half of the ninth century. It is worth remembering that all the above-mentioned passages do not refer to individual, but to collective violence; not to isolated cases, but to an iterated practice; not to scattered, minor skirmishes, but to fighting directed at gaining booty and in some cases probably also dominion by a process of step-by-step-conquest. Considering the time of writing and the historical periods which are described, we get the impression of a decade-long state of armed conflicts or at least of sustained threats and destruction through armed Muslim violence. Urban and rural areas, rich and poor people were involved. All seem equally affected by the hostile attacks. It is hardly surprising that, the more directly contemporaries were concerned by the events, the more encompassing and overwhelming they perceived them. That also finds expression in nouns linked to the sphere of suffering (tribulatio,88 calamita(te)s,89 miseria,90 oppressio91) and of emotions like sorrowfullness (dolor,92 maeror,93 oppressio94) or fear of downfall (periculum,95 86 Erch., cap. 44 p. 160: ‘[C]unctaque monasteria et ecclesias omnesque urbes et oppida, vicos, montes et colles insulasque depredarunt’. 87 Ioh. VIII epp., no. 8 pp. 7-8: ‘[H]ortamur et obsecramus, ut ne differas ultra, nec patiaris populum Domini ab illis divinitus fulminandis Agarenis discerpi, qui operuerunt universam superficiem terrę sicut locustę, […] certa relatione didicerimus, stolum amplissimum in proximo ad expugnandam Urbem venturam, id est centum naves, ex quibus cum equis sunt quindecim grandes. Quod enim ingens malum et incomparabile sit, si intente consideraveritis, advertetis; perditio enim istius Urbis totius est mundi dispendium, immo et ipsius Christianę religionis iactura’. 88 LP, II, p. 81. 89 LP, II, pp. 106, 117; Ioh. VIII epp., no. 33 p. 32, no. 36 p. 35, no. 193 p. 155. 90 LP, II, pp. 106, 117. 91 Ioh. VIII epp., no. 33 p. 32. 92 Ioh. VIII epp., no. 56 p. 51. 93 Ioh. VIII epp., no. 56 p. 51. 94 Ioh. VIII epp., no. 78 p. 74, no. 178 p. 143. 95 LP, II, p. 107; Ioh. VIII epp., no. 1 p. 1, no. 7 p. 6, no. 36 p. 35.

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perditio,96 dispendium,97 excidium98). Despite missing details, everyone reading such indirect narratives of violence can easily evoke images of various situations of physical aggression, for instance combatants in melee, or local people fighting tooth and nail to defend themselves and their personal belonging against the attackers, or defenceless men, women, and children being caught, mistreated, and taken away, or warriors perpetrating other sorts of indecency, or people suffering thirst and hunger and illness. Yet beyond the past reader’s and our present imagination, what details do the texts narrate about physical violence instigated by Muslims? A first observation is the fact that the more comprehensive descriptions of belligerency have for the most part no face, in the sense that neither the aggressors nor the victims can be identified as individuals. Obviously, there are exceptions, such as the ‘absolutely wicked’ Sawdān, sadly famous for having profaned sacred places and slaughtered many people.99 He could be stylised as a ‘tyrant’, as the epitome of evil ‘sitting on a pile of corpses, eating like a putrid dog’.100 The same Amir of Bari is reported to have devastated the whole region of Benevento with sword, fire, and captivity to such an extent that not any breath of life (‘alitus’) remained left and, by doing so, to have brutally killed many people, among them the comes Garardus, Maielpotus, and Guandelpertus.101 In the latter episode we at least get the names of three men belonging to local elites, but without further information, and akin to other text passages Sawdān remains hidden behind a mask. Rare insights into individual fates are contained in a few private documents. There we meet two widows from Salerno who could not act through their principal legal representatives (‘mundualdi’), so that, according to Lombard law, they had to refer to other male adults of their family. The brother of the first woman named Walfa had been taken away by the ‘Saracens’, but due to her serious illness she did not want to postpone the bequeathing her property and wait for her brother’s uncertain return. In Muslim captivity there was also the son of the other woman called Rodelenda who wanted to sell her morgincap, while her second son was prevented from coming to 96 Ioh. VIII epp., no. 8 p. 7, no. 193 p. 155, no. 279 p. 246. 97 Ioh. VIII epp., no. 8 p. 7. 98 Ioh. VIII epp., no. 31 p. 29. 99 CSBC, pp. 476-477; similar also in later chronicles: CMC, lib. I, cap. 35 p. 96; CV, I, p. 365. Heath, ‘Violence’, pp. 35-38, enters more in detail into the question how Sawdān was depicted in Western sources. 100 ‘Nam sevus ille tyrannus super cadavera mortuorum sedens, edebat tamquam unus putridus canis’; CSBC, p. 476. On this passage also Berto, ‘The Muslims as Others’, p. 7. 101 Erch., cap. 29 p. 134. Similar in CV, I, p. 356. Alitus could mean ‘food’, but according to Glossarium, I, col. 180c (URL: http://ducange.enc.sorbonne.fr/ALITUS2; retrieved: 21 March 2017) also ‘breath’.

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Salerno because the city was encircled by the ‘barbarian Saracens’.102 In the same year (882), in a document issued in Nocera near Salerno, a third widow named Wiletruda found herself forced to sell one-eighth of her possessions because she needed money for her livelihood in a period of famine when her hometown was besieged.103 Men captured by the Muslims could also become a matter of dispute, as we learn from a Gaetan document: The coloni Mauro Botto and Palumbi Bussi [sic] together with their wives had been redeemed from the gens Agarenorum for the sum of 38 solidi, which caused a conflict between the old and the new owner.104 In general, however, the individuality of aggressors and victims remains unknown because they are only mentioned with group names. On one side are the Saraceni, Agareni, Hismaelitae, infideles, barbari,105 or, worse, ‘sons of fornication’;106 on the other, the populus Christianorum whose blood is continuously shed,107 or the many Saxones (probably part of the Frankish troops) dying during the Muslim attack against Rome in 846,108 or the custodes of Ostia to whom was attributed the control of the access routes to Rome (especially the Tiber river) and who lost their lives109 just like the uncountable coloni in the region of Salerno110 or the church’s ministri and servi.111 We do not know exactly, who, how many and in which way these and other people were afflicted. With frequently used words like alii,112 multi,113 plurimi/plures,114 nonnulli,115 omnes,116 cuncti,117 innumerabiles,118 102 CDCav, I, no. 75 pp. 97-99, at p. 98 (datation: 872); no. 86 pp. 109-111, at p. 110 (datation: 882). 103 CDCav, I, no. 97 pp. 123-124, at p. 123 (datation: 882). 104 CDCaj, I, no. XIII, pp. 22-23 (datation: 867). 105 These terms are so frequently used in our chosen texts that I refrain from listing every single passage. Regarding the papal sources during the ninth century, is has already been underlined that the Saracens were always addressed as one homogenous community; cf. Gantner, ‘New Visions’, p. 413. However, other, less frequently used terms such as Ispani or Mauri also indicate differentiated perceptions; cf. Berto, Cristiani e musulmani, pp. 24-25. 106 Ioh. VIII epp., no. 36 p. 35 and no. 39 p. 38 (‘filii fornicationis’). 107 For instance, Ioh. VIII epp., no. 22 p. 20. 108 CSBC, p. 472, Erch., cap. 29 p. 136. 109 LP, II, p. 100. 110 Erch., cap. 35 p. 146. 111 Ioh. VIII epp., no. 36 p. 35. 112 CSBC, p. 472. 113 CSBC, p. 472 114 CSBC, pp. 472, 476, 477; Erch., cap. 17 p. 114, cap. 76 p. 198. 115 CSBC, p. 476; Erch., cap. 17 p. 114. 116 Erch., cap. 51 p. 170. 117 Ioh. VIII epp., no. 8 p. 7. 118 Erch., p. 35 p. 146.

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pauci119, ceteri120 or reli(n)qui,121 not only John VIII (or his letter writers), but also other authors provide only vague information about the real numbers of victims. This applies to concrete figures. These certainly contain individual hardships but are mostly unreliable being only approximate values122 or obviously ones that are exaggerated.123 To all intents and purposes this makes any statistical evaluation impossible. At times, it is explicitly mentioned that there were inhabitants and fighting men falling victim to looting, but without any further details.124 Now and then, however, the narratives are more descriptive. Beyond unspecific cases of death,125 we get to know that some were killed by swords,126 some by fire,127 some strangled in the fray,128 some deceased after being captured,129 others, found injured in trenches, scrubs, and pits, died agonising by thirst,130 and others again starved during the siege of fortified places and cities.131 Many Christians were captured 119 LP, II, p. 100. 120 Erch., cap. 56 p. 176. 121 Erch., cap. 76 p. 198, cap. 17 p. 114. 122 Erch., cap. 35 p. 146: ‘[O]ccisis ex eis pene tribus milibus viris’; cap. 55 p. 174: ‘[I]ta ut de tanto numero non amplius quam quinque evaderent, ceteris interfectis, ni fallor, centum quindecim’; cap. 56 p. 176: ‘[F]erme ducentos perimierunt viros’. 123 For instance, CSBC, p. 476: ‘Nullus omnino praeteribat dies, quod [Saugdan] ad quingentos et eo amplius non interficeret homines’; Erch., cap. 35 p. 146: ‘[S]tatim Saraceni Salernum applicuerunt quasi XXX milia’ […] but then the Christians could kill almost 13,000 of them:] occisis ex eis pene tribus milibus viris […] mille ex eis peremerunt […] perdidit ex prophanis in Capua ferme novem milia viros’. For Erchempert’s exaggerations here cf. also Heath, ‘Violence’, p. 32. 124 LP, II, p. 81 (‘Agarenorum gens […] depraedationes hominum […] faciebat […], qui in Portuensi vel Hostiensem civitatibus habitabant a Sarracenis nefandissimis tribulationis ac depraedationis sentirent iacturam’). 125 CSBC, pp. 472 (‘peremerunt’), 476 (‘cadentes’); Erch., cap. 17 p. 114 (‘non minima cede prostravit […] plurimos eorum gladiis extincxit’), cap. 29 p. 136 (‘plurimos eorum interemit […] crudeliter extinxit’), cap. 76 p. 198 (‘interfecti. […] gladiis […] tradidit’); Ioh. VIII epp., no. 31 p. 29 (‘variis mortibus necaverunt et omnem […] populum […] deleverunt’), no. 273 p. 241 (‘quanti […] interempti sunt et captivi ducti diversis mortibus perierunt’). 126 CSBC, p. 476 (‘interempti a gladiis’); Erch., cap. 51 p. 170 (‘gladiis extincti sunt’), cap. 16 p. 112 (‘gladiis trucidarunt’); Ioh. VIII epp., no. 8 p. 7 (‘in […] gladium traditis’), no. 22 p. 20 (‘qui evadit […] gladium’), no. 31 p. 29 (‘gladio […] dispereunt’); no. 36 p. 35 (‘gladio trucidantur’). 127 Ioh. VIII epp., no. 22 p. 20 (‘qui evadit ignem’). 128 CSBC, p. 476 (‘in alterutrum inpingentes, praefocabantur’). 129 Ioh. VIII epp., no. 31 p. 29 (‘pręda dispereunt’), no. 273 p. 241 (‘quanti […] captivi ducti diversis mortibus perierunt’). 130 CSBC, pp. 476-477 (‘alii in fossatis, sepibus et cavernis terrae, inlesi a gladiis, sed prae siti mortui inveniebantur’). 131 CSBC, p. 474 (Taranto); Erch., cap. 17 p. 114 (during the civil war in the principality of Benevento in which Muslims were involved); without a reference to a specific place also Ioh. VIII epp., no. 36 no. 35.

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(and probably sold and enslaved)132 or held as hostages.133 And there were also Calabrian priests and deacons mistreated by the ‘barbarians’.134 Only rarely do the texts confirm what seems obvious: that women and children were also slain135 or displaced through captivity.136 In several cases, flight was the only way to escape from aggression.137 But the price for this salvation was an unknown future, often far from previous living conditions. The above panorama seems almost to confirm John VIII’s picture of a ‘Saracen plague’. But this impression is distorted by various factors. For analytical purposes, only passages mentioning Muslim violence have been considered, without looking at collaborations, trade, settlements, and other non-armed forms of contact.138 Furthermore, taking into account the respective historical contexts and considering the changing alliances which partly included Muslim support, it is not always possible to reconstruct to what extent local Christian people did participate in causing the above-mentioned devastations or in how far raids ascribed to the ‘Saracens’ were, in reality, undertaken by others or only with their help.

Christian ‘Counterviolence’ As a consequence of the victim’s point of view, physical violence inflicted upon Muslims is always represented as justified. Armed attacks and executions are described as defence measures. To organise military support – an aim also of the cited papal letter from 876 – was a contemporary practice 132 CSBC, p. 477 (‘homines plurimos capiens’); Erch., cap. 16 p. 112 (‘captivitati indiderunt’), cap. 17 p. 114 (‘nonnullos cepit’), cap. 76 p. 198 (‘tradidit captivitati’); Ioh. VIII epp., no. 8 p. 7 (‘in prędam […] traditis’), no. 22 p. 20 (‘pręda efficitur, captivus trahitur’), no. 31 p. 29 (‘captivos duxerunt’), no. 36 p. 35 (‘in prędam et captivitatem ducuntur’); enslavement is explicitly mentioned in Ioh. VIII epp., no. 27 p. 289 (‘multi a paganis captivi sublati in vestris partibus venundantur et a vestratibus empti sub iugo servitutis tenentur’). 133 Erch., cap. 79 p. 200 (‘obsidibus datis et acceptis’). 134 For the relevant paragraphs of the letter of Patriarch Photius, written c.880-886 to Archbishop Leontius (Leo) of Calabria, see Martin, ‘Léon, archevêque de Calabre’, pp. 487-488. On this letter, cf. also Torre, ‘L’epistola del patriarca Fozio’. 135 CSBC, p. 472 (‘ibidem peremerunt […] aliosque plurimos utriusque sexus et aetatis’). 136 Erch., cap. 17 p. 114 (‘ultramarina loca captivis nostre gentis diversi sexus et etatis fulciebantur’); cap. 49 p. 166 (‘puellas […] vi expetere’). 137 LP, II, pp. 99 (‘effugerant’) and 100 (‘ab habitatoribus derelictam […] et insecuti sunt eos qui evaserant’); Erch., cap. 17 p. 114 (‘relinquos vero in fugam compulit’); Ioh. VIII epp., no. 22 p. 20 (‘episcopi hac illacque dispersi’), no. 36 p. 35 (‘profugi et vagi huc illuque palantes’). 138 As these aspects are intertwined with the Muslim presence on mainland Italy, references to sources and studies are given in several footnotes of this essay.

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when local forces were insufficient. Since the popes had neither a powerful fleet nor an army, they remained reliant upon external assistance. Yet selfdefence, armed or non-armed assistance from others and their own efforts to expand power and influence were all interconnected and intertwined practices. This is not the place to represent the complex, continuously varying political patchwork in southern Italy.139 The point here is that physical violence was considered a normal and legitimate response to external (and internal) aggression, whoever undertakes the violent actions and whoever receives them. Beyond the fact that agreements and coalitions were being created in order to arrange collective, armed enterprises by land and sea, the sources provide some other details about violent acts against the ‘Saracen’ enemy. More than once massacres and the targeted killing of military leaders are mentioned. In the vita of Leo IV (847-855), we read that after a Christian naval victory most of the surviving Muslims were killed, whereas others were captured as evidence (‘causa veritatis ac testimonii, vivos comprehendentes’) and brought to Rome. Visible to the public, their leaders were gibbeted, while those imprisoned were sometimes forced to work.140 A similar situation is reported for Siconulf, Lombard prince of Benevento and later Salerno (d. 851), after his victory near Canne who, according to Erchempert, killed all Muslims who had not yet escaped,141 or for the Frankish conquest of Benevento at the end of the long civil war, when the ‘Saracens’ found inside the town were killed and Massar/Abū Maʿšar beheaded in front of Louis II.142 This latter passage has been recently interpreted as evidence for a religious war the Carolingians fought against the Muslims.143 But – in contrast to massacres such as during the crusade period – we do not have any clear indication towards religiously motivated violence in this case. Considering among others the enormous effort of the Carolingian military enterprise, the killing might rather be seen as one possible, though drastic practice of 139 Cf., among many others, Southern Italy; Feniello, Sotto il segno del leone; Marazzi, ‘Ita ut facta videatur’; Storia di Napoli, II/1-2; Palmieri, ‘Mobilità etnica’; von Falkenhausen, ‘I Longobardi meridionali’; Storia del Mezzogiorno, vol. II/1-2 and vol. III/1; Musca, L’Emirato di Bari; Cilento, Italia meridionale; Gabrieli, ‘Gli Arabi in terraferma’; Amari, Storia dei Musulmani di Sicilia. 140 LP, II, p. 119. 141 Erch., cap. 16 p. 112. 142 CSBC, p. 474: ‘Igitur […] infra Beneventanam urbem interempti Saraceni, […] Massari capitur, ad imperatorem adductus capite plectitur’. Louis II to whom imperator seems to be referring to was not yet emperor at that time. Erch., cap. 19 p. 118, confirms this interpretation: ‘[U]niversos prophane gentis hostes ab urbe vi distrai ac framea necari fecit’. 143 Schieffer, ‘Die Politik der Karolinger’, p. 73.

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homicide in war in order to take vengeance on enemies144 and to ensure a momentary victory last for a longer time, especially if the defeated were not regarded as potential partners with whom to make compromises and if there was a risk that they could gather new strength in future. In the context of the conquest of Bari in 871, information about mass execution is less clear,145 but we do know that Sawdān and several of his ‘satellites’ were taken captive.146 That Louis did not immediately let them and the Amir kill ‘as it would have been appropriate’ (‘ut dignum erat’), caused a certain perplexity in Erchempert, who also made direct reference to a biblical example within this passage.147 Afterwards, when Muslim forces started a counter attack, there seems to have been a terrible slaughter, although the 3,000 deaths on the Islamic side are definitely exaggerated.148 Referring to the mid-880s, Erchempert also tells of an attack against 120 Saraceni in service of the Gaetan dux Docibilis (c.867-c.906) – probably well planned by Lando III of Capua (882-885) after the major part of the Muslim forces had moved to Calabria – which was fought ad ultimam internicionem until there were only 5 men left who could escape.149 And during the late 880s, it was Guido II of Spoleto (King of Italy 889-894, Emperor from 891), accompanied by Atenulf I of Capua (887-910), who killed a Muslim leader named Arrane and about 300 of his men.150 Broken agreements could also be a reason for discarding a dangerous former ally, as we learn in the case of Guaifer of Salerno (861-880).151 Pope John VIII seems to have been the one who pushed him to do so – in a similar way as in 881 when he called upon Athanasius II of Naples (Bishop 876-898, since 878 also dux) to break his pact with the Muslims within 20 days and to send those captured to Rome.152 Some days later he specified 144 Cf. Pinker, The Better Angels, pp. 53, 56 (stating that the most commonly cited motive for warfare is vengeance). 145 Erchempert does not report anything in this regard, but in Louis’ letter to Basil he writes that before the conquest of Bari Frankish troops had killed countless Saracens who were responsible for having sacked Calabria, which diminished not only the Muslim power in that region, but also in Bari; cf., Ludovici II. epistola, p. 391. 146 Erch., cap. 33 p. 142. 147 Erch., cap. 37 p. 150, with reference to 1 Samuel 15. On this passage cf. also Berto, Cristiani e musulmani, pp. 93-94. 148 Erch., cap. 35 p. 146; see also note 122. 149 Erch., cap. 55 p. 174. 150 Erch., cap. 79 p. 200: ‘Guido […] Arranem Hismaelitam, tirannum crudelissimum, cum trecentis pene sequacibus suis peremit’. 151 Erch., cap. 39 p. 152: ‘Guaiferius in cunctis obtemperans et fedus dirrupit et multos ex eis peremit’. 152 Ioh. VIII epp., no. 273 p. 241.

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in another letter that Athanasius should try to capture as many higher ranking ‘Saracens’ as possible and transport them to Rome, whereas all the others had to be killed.153 Physical violence became here even a condition for solving an excommunication – but to no avail, because Naples continued its collaboration with Muslims.154 Obviously killing was not the only way to deal with the Muslim counterpart during armed conflicts. Displacement and flight,155 captivity and being held hostage are mentioned as well,156 but only rarely because the focus in Latin texts is not on the destiny of the enemy. Considering that Muslims and Christians were reciprocally interrelated violent actors,157 it might be no surprise seeing Christians inflicting phenomenologically the same aggressions as Muslims. This regards not only the mid-870s, but the whole second half of the ninth century. And if, in addition, the semantics in narratives about intra-communal acts of harming the human body or causing death had been analysed here, we would have noticed no fundamental differences.158 These observations not only reverse the perpetrator-victim relationship as it is represented in our sources, but it also demonstrates that neither the different forms of violence nor the typologies of ‘perpetrator’ and ‘victim’159 help to give a satisfying answer when seeking the particularities of Muslim violence and its containment in early medieval southern Italy.

Impacts and Consequences If the phenomenology of violence, as previously observed, does not reveal significant differences between Christians and Muslims, the question of whether Muslims were more violent than Christians or if they introduced new forms of violence is wrongly posed. Nevertheless, we can ask whether our medieval texts suggest any specifics regarding local impact and the way in which it was handled: Which societal sectors were affected by short or long-term consequences of repeated raids and combats? Are there indications 153 Ioh. VIII epp., no. 279 p. 246. 154 On this episode cf. Wolf, ‘Facing the Muslims’, notes 39-43. 155 AB, p. 46 a. 844; Erch., cap. 16 p. 112, cap. 49 p. 168, cap. 55 p. 174, cap. 58 p. 178. 156 Erch., cap. 79 p. 200 (‘obsidibus datis et acceptis’). 157 See note 159. 158 Cf. e.g., CSBC, pp. 471, 474, 475; LP, II, p. 177; Erch., passim. 159 Doubting about the analytical potential of such a distinction, Braun and Herberichs, ‘Gewalt im Mittelalter’, p. 23, suggest it is better to speak of ‘reziprok aufeinander bezogenen Gewaltakteuren’ (‘reciprocally interrelated violent actors’).

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towards changes from a structural point of view and/or in mental predispositions resulting from the attempts to deal with these continuous threats? Obviously, some possible approximations to answering these questions can be sketched here only roughly and require far more detailed examination. Armed conflicts, material devastations, flight, death, and captivity seem to have had severe repercussions at a collective level. Both Erchempert and John VIII who in different ways lived personally through difficult situations linked to armed hostilities between Muslims and Christians offer vivid descriptions. But it is often impossible to decide if their information about violent acts came from oral or written evidence or – to a very limited extent – from eye witnessing. Furthermore, invention, exaggeration, oblivion, and non-disclosure play their part in distorting the reported details. None of the papal letters and letter fragments gives clues for injury to or mistreatment of John VIII himself. But due to his responsibilities and self-conception as Bishop of Rome, he gives much room for his anxieties and worries concerning the security of the urbs, his patria, the papal patrimonium, and the (Latin/ Roman) Church. Not by accident, he painted the extent of devastation in particularly sombre terms when the Carolingian emperors and their representatives in Italy were addressed: the pope was calling upon his ‘protectors’ and demanded the fulfilment of the oft-promised protection.160 A bitter feeling of great affliction is tangible also in the historical work of the Benedictine monk Erchempert who reportedly was never attacked by Muslims, but otherwise personally affected by raids on two occasions.161 Beyond the guiding pattern of decline in the narration of the Ystoriola, these personal experiences may further explain why the author had such deep resentments against whoever perpetrated plundering and violence, be they Muslims, Lombards, Franks, or Byzantines.162

160 On these aspects of the papal policies, in particular during the pontificate of John VIII, cf. lately Wolf, ‘Facing the Muslims’, note 28. 161 In September 881, Erchempert writes, he was deprived of all his personal belongings during a conflict in the county of Capua. Although Muslim fighters were also involved in the conflict and the aggressors are not explicitly named, the wording suggests that they were probably Christians; Erch., cap. 44 pp. 160, 162. On a second occaison, in 886, he was despoiled and captivated by Greci, and then later released; Erch., cap. 61 pp. 180, 182. 162 In many chapters, Erchempert describes the changing political fronts and complains also about violent acts between Christians. On this aspect, recently also Heath, ‘Violence’, in particular at pp. 34-35. Harsh criticism against the Byzantines is expressed in a known passage (Erch., cap. 81 p. 202): ‘Achivi autem, ut habitudinis similes sunt, ita animo equales sunt bestiis, vocabulo christiani, set moribus tristiores Agarenis. Hii videlicet et per se fidelium omnes predabant et Saracenis emebant et ex his alios venales oceani litora farciebant, alios vero in famulos et

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Recently, it has been correctly argued that Erchempert’s reports of Muslim devastation and destruction should not be taken too literally because, within the over-arching narrative of the downfall of the Lombards, the ‘Saracen’ enemy is depicted stereotypically and not fundamentally different from other groups perpetrating violence in southern Italy.163 This, however, poses the question of the ‘real’ impact of violent acts – whether each time attributable to Muslims alone or not. In any case, besides Erchempert and John VIII, other sources also seem to confirm that raids and plundering constituted a frequent and far-reaching phenomenon during the second half of the ninth century. The image of large areas completely devastated may appear excessive. But looting and manhunting were surely not limited to only a few places and only a few months or years. Hence, in the short and long run, there must have been consequences for local living conditions: If people cannot exercise their daily work anymore, because manpower has been reduced, houses and other material goods destroyed, cropland burned, cattle slaughtered or abducted, harvests devastated, and defence forces reduced, then their survival is at stake. Rural areas were particularly important with regard to agriculture and livestock farming, but less defendable than fortified localities and thus exposed to greater danger. Walls and defence facilities in major centres could, however, protect against hostile attacks just as long as the supply of water, food, and other vital resources was secure. Intact transport and communication routes were thus fundamental for the functioning of existing urban-rural relationships. Indeed, worrying effects on demography as well as on urban and rural economy are tangible in several texts. Let us return, for instance, to the widow Rodelenda who found herself forced to sell her property in order to ensure that she had the means to live. Her (certainly not exceptional) case shows that the Muslim siege of Salerno had been changing economic and familial frameworks within which she tried to satisfy her needs. This was not only due to circumstances where contact with close family members had become impossible because of captivity or accessibility.164 No doubt supply restrictions and price inflation which accompanied the siege would have afflicted many people stuck within the city walls, such as Wiletruda. In her contract of sale she, too, laments about hardship during the same year stating: ‘[W]e are surrounded by the Saracens and believe we must die famulas reservabant. Talia et his similia animadvertens Deus, tradidit illos in opprobrium et in devorationem, ut pereant’. 163 Cf. Heath, ‘Violence’, p. 35. 164 See above note 102.

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because of the risks of famine; and there is nothing left to live from, except that one-eighths portion of my goods [which] I want to sell.’165 Starving out fortified locations was (and has always been) a common tactic of war. According to the Liber pontificalis, Rome and its surroundings appeared powerless and overcome with misery equally during and after the attacks of 846.166 If one remembers that at that time Muslim forces had occupied for a certain period both Ostia at the mouth of the Tiber river and Porto situated three kilometres further north near the (probably still used) harbour and channel of Trajan,167 Rome was isolated from the Mediterranean yet vulnerable from the sea because both ports, the main waterways, and most likely also important roads like the Via Portuense or Via Ostiense were out of local control. Unfortunately, the construction of the fortified Gregoriopolis near Ostia Antica during the pontificate of Gregory IV (827-844) had not led to the desired effect of protection.168 Seen in this light, the above-cited passage has more than a rhetorical meaning. It does not simply echo shock as a result of the sack and plunder of the shrines of St Peter and St Paul outside the walls. And not by chance, comprehensive construction works were being executed under Leo IV (847-855) – many of them for defensive purposes, from Rome’s city walls, gates, towers (two of whom close to the Portuensis Gate by the very shore of the Tiber for better control of the riversides) to resettlements along the Mediterranean coast: in Ostia and Porto, and in the newly built Leopolis (near the port of Centumcellae, today Civitavecchia).169 Likewise, later ninth-century popes such as Nicholas I

165 CDCav, I, no. 97 p. 123: ‘[A] sarracenis sumus circumdati et a periculis famis nos perire cogitamus, et nihil habeo aliquid remedium qualiter bibere possam, nisi ipsam octabam portionem meam de rebus bindere bolo’. 166 LP, II, p. 106: ‘Qui igitur calamitate seu miseria omnis Romanorum vigor elanguit atque contritus est’; p. 131 (with regard to Centumcellae): ‘[M]ore bestiarum, relictis sedibus propriis ob timorem Saracenorum’. 167 LP, II, pp. 99-101. Porto and Ostia were resettled only during the pontificate of Leo IV (by people from Corsica); LP, II, pp. 125-126. Ostia seems to have been the main port of Rome, but also Porto was still in use for ships of minor dimensions at least up to the last quarter of the ninth century; cf. Coccia, ‘Portus Romae’, in particular pp. 180, 193-196; Delogu, Le origini del Medioevo, pp. 311, 318 (with further bibliography). 168 LP, II, pp. 81-82. 169 LP, II, pp. 115, 131; briefly mentioned in AB, p. 64 a. 851. For Leo’s activities in and outside Rome, cf. Herbers, Leo IV., pp. 135-162. Gantner, ‘New Visions’, p. 407, note 20 (referring to Delogu, ‘L’importazione’, pp. 123-141, and Engreen, ‘Pope John’, pp. 327-329), assumed that the raid against Rome in 846 must have been a blow for the Roman economy because after the great efforts during the pontificate of Leo IV, the papacy had been unable to spend as much money as before.

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(858-867)170 or John VIII171 reportedly took measures in order to protect the Roman ports and coasts against attacks coming from the sea. Famine and food shortages, however, could not only be a consequence of sieges and hostile control of access roads, but also of the targeted removal or destruction of stocks and cattle. This practice is witnessed in connection with Muslim raids against fortified locations172 and monasteries173 which indicates their important role for the reliability of local supply. Demographic and economic consequences of fighting and plundering are also mentioned in John VIII’s letter to Boso of Provence: the regions afflicted by the Islamic ‘locusts’ are described as abandoned by almost all inhabitants because they had been taken in captivity or killed; now only loneliness and the habitations of wild animals were left there.174 In a similar way, Erchempert complained that during the mid-880s in the region around Montecassino there was nobody cultivating the land which was full of brambles and vipers and laid idle.175 We still have no comprehensive idea regarding the economic situation of Rome, its surroundings, and the present area of southern Lazio and Campania during the 870s/880s in particular and the ninth century in general.176 And it is only recently that in this context the possible impact of the (not only Muslim) raids have begun to be considered.177 A great many of John VIII’s letters testify to continuous diplomatic contacts with whoever could improve the difficult situation, send military support, or act as intermediaries. For the late 870s, increased papal efforts to protect the coastal line between Civitavecchia (Centumcellae) and Minturno178 170 LP, II, p. 164. 171 See below notes 178-180. 172 LP, II, p. 100. 173 CSBC, p. 477 (‘frumenta et legumina in flumine proicientes’), p. 478 (‘omnes iumentas et vaccas monasterii auferentes’). 174 Ioh. VIII epp., no. 8 p. 7: ‘[Q]ui operuerunt universam superficiem terrę sicut locustę, ita ut pęne cunctis habitatoribus inde sublatis et in prędam et gladium traditis, redacta sit in solitudinem et in cubilia bestiarum’. 175 Erch., cap. 51 p. 168. The passage is difficult to date; cf. Di Branco and Wolf, ‘Terra di conquista?’, pp. 130-132. 176 Nevertheless, several aspects have been deepened, among others in La storia economica di Roma and in important studies published by Federico Marazzi and Paolo Delogu; cf. Marazzi and Frisetti, ‘Porti “monastici”’; Marazzi, ‘Portus monasterii’; San Vincenzo al Volturno; Marazzi, ‘La configurazione’; Marazzi, ‘Les Arabes et la Campanie’; Marazzi, ‘Ita ut facta videatur’; Delogu, ‘Solium imperii’, pp. 96-99 (trade with Rome); Delogu, ‘L’importazione’. 177 Wolf, ‘Facing the Muslims’, note 111. 178 Probably around 877/78, John VIII made an agreement with Amalfi to protect this coastal line, against a payment of the huge sum of 10,000 (silver-)mancusi. But the Amalf itans took the money without breaking their existing alliance with the Muslims and demanded instead

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and economic incentives for coastal towns are also mentioned.179 Bearing in mind that during the same period important sea towns like Naples, Amalfi, Gaeta, and Salerno had agreements with Muslims180 which most likely protected them against ‘Saracen’ attacks on land and on water, it can be assumed that the raids and devastations affected primarily ‘unprotected’ territories nearby – just like those of the Roman church, or the region of Capua where Erchempert lived at least for a certain period of his life.181 Although the numbers of Muslim and of Christian combatants killed and hurt during armed conflicts may perhaps not have differed very much, there were surely many more civilian casualties among the Christian population of mainland Italy. Let us only think of the uncountable dead, injured, and captured people mentioned in our (and other) sources, or of the thousands of captives the monk Bernard saw on Muslim ships directed from Bari to different destinations in the Mediterranean.182 The consequences for local Christian people were thus unequally harder because almost all members and sectors of society were concerned. On the contrary, we know nothing about civilian fatalities among Muslims or converts, and if there were any, 12,000 mancusi. After all efforts to get back the money had been in vain, the pope sentenced them to excommunication. Cf. Ioh. VIII epp., no. 79 p. 75, no. 86 p. 81, no. 214 p. 192, no. 217 p. 194, no. 246 pp. 214-215, no. 250, pp. 218-219; RI, I,4,3, no. 302, 303, 570, 575, 601, 603; Die Konzilien der karolingischen Teilreiche, no. 11: Rome (879, middle of October), pp. 151-152. Consequently, in 880, Byzantine dromones were protecting the papal coasts; Ioh. VIII epp., no. 259 pp. 228-229; RI, I,4,3, no. 641. 179 In January 878, John VIII promised to Athanasius II of Naples the payment of 1400 (silver-) mancusi; Ioh. VIII epp., no. 76 pp. 72-73; RI, I,4,3, no. 307. That the payment of this sum was (later?) promised every year (‘annis singulis’, ‘per singulos annos’), emerges from Ioh. VIII epp., no. 249 p. 218 (October 879) and no. 250 pp. 218-219 (November-December 879), at p. 218; RI, I,4,3, no. 582 and 603. A reference to these (and maybe other payments) also in Ioh. VIII epp., no. 279 pp. 246-247 (April 881); RI, I,4,3, no. 679. In the context of the ‘Amalfi affaire’ (see the previous note), at a certain point (Ioh. VIII epp., no. 250 p. 219) the pope suggested a compromise by increasing his payment by further 1000 mancusi and by promising fiscal exemptions in ‘his’ port (‘et teloneum, quod in portu nostro dare debetis, vobis concedimus’). If the prefectus Pulchar should not accept this proposal, he would be threatened with excommunication and an embargo (‘et omnium terrarum aditus, in quibus negotiari soliti estis, vobis omnino claudemus’). 180 This is, for instance, the reason why the pope arranged a meeting in Traetto (Traiectum) with the ruling elites of these four towns in April 877; Ioh. VIII epp., no. 51-53 pp. 48-49, no. 61 p. 55; RI, I,4,3, no. 250-252, 268. Apart from this very moment, short- or long-term alliances with ‘Saracens’ were a quite widespread phenomenon in that region at least during the period between the 840s and 915 (so called battle of Garigliano). On Christian-Muslim pacts in the early-medieval Italian context, cf. Vismara, Impium foedus; Di Branco and Wolf, ‘Terra di conquista?’, pp. 152-159. On commercial contacts between Amalfi/Naples and Muslims, recently also Martin, ‘I musulmani come sfida’, pp. 168-169, 179. 181 Only a few biographical details are known of Erchempert; cf. Erch., pp. 6-8. 182 Das Itinerarium Bernardi, cap. 4 p. 117.

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their number must have been limited.183 This difference between Muslim and Christian ‘victims’ is worth noting when reflecting upon the impact of physical violence in ninth-century southern Italy. Apart from considerable human loss and devastating demographic and economic damage, there was, however, always somebody who sought to take advantage of difficult situations. For their resources of valuable objects and precious metal, churches and monasteries were not only been attacked or threatened by Muslims; 184 their economical wealth could attract also local leaders who purloined it for their own enterprises.185 Furthermore, Christians also undertook raids, taking captives and benefitting from the loot 186 – partly as a direct or indirect consequence of mutual agreements between different Muslim and Christian groups.187 And because each time these alliances and arrangements influenced significantly the already fragile power constellations, they favoured, in the longer term, the well-known processes of political ‘fragmentation’188 which could not be stopped by occasional Christian leagues.189 Predation was thus not only part of military strategies or a side-effect of violent confrontations. It has to be seen in an economic and political perspective, too. Looting was a quick way to come into possession of provisions, weapons, riding animals, high-ranking captives to be later ransomed, money, and other ‘material’ goods among whom we have to count also human beings destined for the Mediterranean slave markets.190 In other historical contexts, similar phenomena have 183 Whether and to what extent after the establishment of military bases also Muslim families and clans followed and settled on mainland Italy, is unknown; cf. Wolf, ‘Auf dem Pfade Allahs’, p. 123, 137, 147-148. Regarding the question of conversions, cf. Martin, ‘I Musulmani come sfida’, p. 179; Wolf, ‘Auf dem Pfade Allahs’, p. 140. For Christian-Muslim ‘cohabitation’ in Calabria, see Martin, ‘Léon, archêveque de Calabre’, pp. 487-490. 184 Cf. among others CSBC, p. 477; AB, p. 52 a. 846, p. 54 a. 847; LP, II, p. 106; Erch., cap. 29 p. 136; Ioh. VIII epp., no. 89 p. 85. 185 CSBC, p. 473 (Montecassino – Siconulf); cf. also CMC, lib. I, cap. 26 pp. 74-76. 186 Just a few examples: LP, II, p. 177 (Lampert of Spoleto); Erch., cap. 61 p. 180 (‘Greeks’); Ioh. VIII epp., no. 246 p. 215 (Pulchar of Amalfi), no. 279 p. 246 (Athanasius of Naples). 187 For Christian-Muslim arrangements and contracts in pre-Norman mainland Italy see Di Branco and Wolf, ‘Terra di conquista?’, pp. 152-159. 188 Among many others using this term, cf. e.g. Kreutz, Before the Normans, pp. 24-25; Cilento, Le origini, p. 21. 189 Emphasising the high level of fragmentation as one (but obviously not the only) consequence of the Muslim presence in southern Italy, among others, Heath, ‘Third/Ninth-Century Violence’, p. 4. 190 I exclude here the frequent references to people taken captive and material goods robbed during the raids; a collection of examples can be found in Berto, Cristiani e musulmani, pp. 155-171. As we learn from the monk Bernhard for the year 870, the Muslim-controlled Bari and Taranto

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been analysed as a ‘booty economy’191 – an approach whose potential still remains to be explored in future studies of early medieval southern Italy. Through its link to military and economic power, predation was also part of the sphere of power and dominion.192 Accordingly, the pontiffs’ intense efforts to strengthen their own position by protecting the people and territories they were or felt responsible for, as well as their greater concern for the smaller Campanian principalities during the second half of the ninth century might not be primarily explained by a mere political will to enlarge the papal dominion after the traumatic events of the year 846.193 Instead, their increasing intervention in these (but also other) regions, together with continuous diplomatic efforts, economic incentives, requests for military help, canonical dispositions (such as excommunication and anathema), and attempts to reinforce social cohesion,194 seem to have been at least partly connected with recurrent economic and supply problems in Rome and other territories of the patrimonium Petri.

Conclusions Despite rhetorical exaggerations contained in early medieval texts such as the papal letters and Erchempert’s Ystoriola, the examined passages reveal a picture of repeated ‘Saracen’ threats to the survival of the inhabitants of the Italian south affected by war and pillage. The Muslim presence, however, whilst it did not create new forms of violence, did initiate new dimensions in that violence. These were experienced in terms of duration, intensity, and regional focus. At first glance, it seems as if especially the year 846 and had importance for the Mediterranean slave trade: Das Itinerarium Bernardi, cap. 4-6 p. 117. Also the port town Naples is mentioned in this context: Capitulare Sicardi, cap. 3-4 p. 172. A collection point for captives to be sold as slaves was probably also the Muslim settlement near the Garigliano river: Liudprandi Antapodosis, cap. 44 p. 53. Already in the time of Pope Hadrian I (772-795) the slave trade along the coast of the patrimony of St Peter involving Muslims, Byzantines, and local people seems to have been a common practice; see Gantner, ‘New Visions’, pp. 404-406. For early medieval slave trade cf. McCormick, Origins of the European Economy, pp. 237-261. 191 Cf. Jucker, ‘Vom Chaos zur Ordnung’; Jucker, ‘Plünderung, Beute, Raubgut’. 192 The pope himself was conscious about this when asking Bishop Landulf of Capua to act in his favor and to not be distracted by striving for fame or profit in the hope of great wealth and own success; Ioh. VIII epp., no. 37 p. 36 (‘nulla rerum vel glorię cupiditas a tanto lucro atque profectu vos subtrahat’). With regard to raids and the question of Muslim attempts of conquest, see Di Branco and Wolf, ‘Terra di conquista?’, pp. 138-148. 193 For this interpretation cf. Gantner, ‘New Visions’, p. 415. 194 Cf. Wolf, ‘Facing the Muslims’.

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the 870s and 880s were not only periods of great suffering for fighting men and civilian populations, but also of an increasing spiral of violence that involved Christians and Muslims likewise. Whether such an action-reaction dynamic could also be observed for other times of the ninth century, if only more textual witnesses had survived, remains an open question. Yet, the limited evidence we have suggests that in the 840s, 850s, 860s, as well as the 890s (and after) there were fundamental similarities in the experience of violence.195 It can therefore be assumed that far-reaching devastation and a high number of victims among the local Christian populations during the whole period from the 840s to the end of the ninth century (and later) form the often-forgotten background of an increasing competition for economic resources among local powers that was closely interlinked with complex power struggles on a both regional and transregional level. Although labelling Muslims as non-Christian ‘others’,196 a religiously-based antagonism between Christians and Muslims is observable in Latin texts to only a very limited extent. Instead, their character as enemies was emphasised, which did not exclude various forms of non-violent contact. It was especially from the papal point of view, that the ‘Saracens’, to all costs, had to be expelled or defeated, but significantly not due to their religion alone, but also and maybe above all because the impact of their activities posed a real or potential threat for established social, economic, and political structures. But did the ‘Saracen danger’ finally triggered societies in the peninsula to develop towards ‘violent communities’ (Gewaltgemeinschaften)? Violent communities have been characterised as social groups or networks for whose existence physical violence is essential, be it by maintaining their livelihood through exercising violence, or by basing their social coherence and identity on common violent actions. In general, the different actors of these communities were continuously contending for power, resources, and recognition, especially in regions where central powers exerted only limited influence; and often a clear distinction between perpetrators and victims cannot be made.197 Also, a similar interrelation between violence and communities (such as Benevento, Salerno, Capua, Naples, Gaeta, Amalfi) and the characteristic tensions between institutions with claims 195 Let’s only think of the Carolingians’ military campaigns in southern Italy or of armed local conflicts in which Muslims were involved. 196 Recently, Berto, Cristiani e musulmani, pp. 37-56; Berto, ‘The Muslims as Others’; Gantner, ‘New Visions’; Kujawinski, ‘Le immagini dell’“altro”’, pp. 776-778, 785-786, 806-807, 812; related to Erchempert cf. also Heath, ‘Violence’. 197 Speitkamp, ‘Gewaltgemeinschaften’, pp. 184-190 (the definition of the term at p. 184; p. 187 for the perpetrator-victim-interaction).

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to overarching sovereignty and local powers with whom dominion was permanently negotiated, can be observed in ninth-century southern Italy. In principle, however, these characteristics apply to many other regions and time periods, as well, especially when shifts in political constellations and conquests were underway. In this respect, it was not the attacks of the Muslims that gave birth to violent communities in early-medieval Italy. But often they intensified the spiral of violence as an additional player in an already complex game. The various violent group conflicts as described by writers and authors such as John VIII or Erchempert seem not only to indicate a great readiness to use violence; thinking of the debate on ninth-century papal statements regarding heavenly reward for fighting against non-Christian enemies, one might be also tempted to speak of a novel (theoretical) sacralisation of violence.198 Unlike the just-mentioned violent communities which despite changing borders remained anchored in and maintained the functioning of existing societal structures, Muslim groups fighting and living in the southern peninsula can be characterised as temporarily-mobile violent communities. Their movements were more flexible, their radius of action larger than that of other local violent communities, and due to their low monopoly on the use of force within the region they were staying, mobility linked to violent actions was vital for them. Looting, devastating, and killing committed by Muslims (and Christians) may often have appeared arbitrary to early medieval ‘observers’; from an analytical point of view we can examine the internal logic which operates in so-called ‘zones of all-out violence’ or ‘areas permeated with violence’ (gewaltoffene Räume) where ‘statehood’ either did not yet exist, no longer existed, or else only in a very limited way. Here, frequently, only indirect forms of rule could be established, and the control of information and communication routes played an important role.199 To call ninth-century southern Italy an ‘area permeated with violence’ may not be overstated at this point. Yet, it does not mean that violence was the only response to manage aggression and conflict between different social groups. There have always been attempts to limit dynamics of collective violence.200 On both sides, for Christians and Muslims, communicative and normative regulations such as diplomacy, 198 The connection between familarisation with physical violence, readiness to perpetrate violent acts, and the intensity of violence, including ethics and sacralisation of violence, has been intensively analysed with regard to fascist paramilitary groups; cf. Speitkamp, ‘Gewaltgemeinschaften’, pp. 184-185. 199 Speitkamp, ‘Gewaltgemeinschaften’, p. 185. 200 In this sense, for instance, Adrian Magina analyses violence and agreements for a better understanding of daily life in late medieval Hungary; cf. Magina, ‘Violence and Reconciliation’.

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legal and moral provisions, and collaboration continued being possible options for curbing or preventing physical violence. Violence, thus, opened up scope for new opportunities inasmuch it constituted an integrative part of multifaceted processes during which acceptance limits of actions were continuously negotiated.

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Skoda, Hannah, Medieval Violence: Physical Brutality in Northern France, 1270-1330 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013). Soler, Jean, La Violence monothéiste (Paris: Fallois, 2008). Speitkamp, Winfried, ‘Gewaltgemeinschaften’, in Christian Gudehus and Michaela Christ (eds.), Gewalt: Ein interdisziplinäres Handbuch (Stuttgart: J.B. Metzler, 2013), pp. 184-190. Storia del Mezzogiorno, vol. II/1-2: Il Medioevo; vol. III/1: Alto medioevo (Napoli: Edizioni del Sole, 1988-1989; 1990). Storia di Napoli, vol. II/1-2: Alto medioevo (Napoli: Soc. Ed. Storia di Napoli, 1969). Thonhauser, Johannes, Das Unbehagen am Monotheismus: Der Glaube an den einen Gott als Ursprung religiöser Gewalt? Eine aktuelle Debatte um Jan Assmanns Thesen zur ‘mosaischen Unterscheidung’ (Marburg: Tectum, 2008). Torre, Cristina, ‘L’epistola del patriarca Fozio a Leone arcivescovo di Calabria’, Miscellanea di studi storici. Università della Calabria, Dipartimento di Storia, 12 (2002/2003), pp. 329-343. Unger, Veronika, ‘Spes nostra frustrata est!’: Papst Johannes VIII. (872-882) und die kleineren Herrschaften Süditaliens’, in Southern Italy, pp. 363-384. Vanney, Alejandra (ed.), Violence in Civil Society: Monotheism Guilty? (Hildesheim: Olms, 2013). Vismara, Giulio, Impium foedus: le origini della ‘Respublica Christiana’ (Milano: Giuffrè, 1974). von Falkenhausen, Vera, ‘I Longobardi meridionali’, in André Guillou et al. (eds.), Il Mezzogiorno dai Bizantini a Federico II (Torino: UTET, 1983), pp. 249-364. Weber, Max, Politik als Beruf, Karl-Maria Guth (ed.) (Berlin: Hofenberg, 2016). Weltecke, Dorothea, ‘Müssen monotheistische Religionen intolerant sein? Drei Ringe, drei Betrüger und der Diskurs der religiösen Vielfalt im Mittelalter’, in Rolf Schieder (ed.), Die Gewalt des einen Gottes: Die Monotheismus-Debatte zwischen Jan Assmann, Micha Brumlik, Rolf Schieder, Peter Sloterdijk und anderen (Berlin: Berlin University Press, 2014), pp. 301-323 (publ. also online: http://nbn-resolving. de/urn:nbn:de:bsz:352-277966; retrieved: 10 January 2017). Wolf, Kordula, ‘Auf dem Pfade Allahs: Ǧihād und muslimische Migrationen auf dem süditalienischen Festland (9.-11. Jahrhundert)’, in Transkulturelle Verflechtungen im mittelalterlichen Jahrtausend: Europa, Ostasien, Afrika, Michael Borgolte and Matthias M. Tischler (eds.) (Darmstadt: WBG, 2012), pp. 120-166. Wolf, Kordula, ‘Gli hypati di Gaeta, papa Giovanni VIII e i Saraceni: tra dinamiche locali e transregionali’, Bullettino dell’Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo, 116 (2014), pp. 25-60. Wolf, Kordula and Klaus Herbers (eds.), Southern Italy as Contact Area and Border Region during the Early Middle Ages: Religious-Cultural Heterogeneity and

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Competing Powers in Local, Transregional, and Universal Dimensions, (Köln: Böhlau, 2018). Wolf, Kordula, ‘Facing the Muslims in Rome and Naples: Social Cohesion and its Limits in the Ninth-Century Roman Church’, in Walter Pohl and Andreas Fischer (eds.), Social Cohesion and Its Limits (Wien: ÖAW 2019) (Forschungen zur Geschichte des Mittelalters) [in press].

About the Author Kordula Wolf is a researcher at the German Historical Institute in Rome with a focus on the early and high Middle Ages. Her main fields of interest concern southern Italy, transculturality, Christian-Muslim relations, the history of the Mediterranean region and border studies.

6

Formosus and the ‘Synod of the Corpse’ Tenth Century Rome in History and Memory* David Barritt

Abstract This chapter unpicks the realities in the Italian peninsula in the late ninth century. The period is often depicted as one of crisis motivated by the end of the Carolingian experiment in Italy, and the continuance of a ‘war’ between the supporters of Guy of Spoleto and Berengar I. The papacy of Formusus must be seen in this context. An engagement with the issues that arise from the infamous Cadaver synod are provided with an analysis of the areas of interest that the trial of Formosus represents. A careful analysis of Liudprand of Cremona’s work the Antapodosis allows us to see that he portrays the synod as a symbol of the corruption and decadence of the Roman aristocracy at this time. Keywords: Papal history; post-Carolingian Italy; The Cadaver Synod; Formosus; Liudprand of Cremona; Antapodosis

Despite recent revisionist works,1 it seems quite difficult to argue with the idea that the break-up of the Carolingian Empire at the end of the ninth century led to something of a crisis in the Italian peninsula, including within the city of Rome. Although Giovanni Tabacco’s description of the * Most notably Simon MacLean, Kingship and Politics in the Late Ninth Century (Cambridge: CUP, 2003); also Marco Valenti and Chris Wickham (eds), Italy 888-962: A Turning Point (Turnhout: Brepols, 2013) 1 The text of this chapter is substantially the same as chapter 2 of my DPhil thesis, submitted at the University of Oxford in early 2018; I am grateful to Conrad Leyser and Chris Wickham for comments, as well as the various seminar audiences upon whom I have inflicted my ideas.

Heath, C. and R. Houghton (eds.), Conflict and Violence in Medieval Italy 568-1154. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press 2022 doi: 10.5117/9789462985179_ch06

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late ninth and early tenth centuries in Italy as ‘political anarchy’ may be overstating things,2 the disappearance of the more or less stable outside influence of the Carolingians does seem to have led to a quite striking level of instability and uncertainty among the civitates of Italy, in a way that should not be surprising when a polity is removed, willingly or otherwise, from a larger, more stable and secure union. Broadly speaking, the 880s and 890s can be summarised by the attempts at domination of Italian politics made by ‘French’ and ‘German’ factions, the leaders of which were Guy of Spoleto (889-94), and Berengar I (887-924), respectively.3 The late 880s and early 890s seem to have been, essentially, a quasi-civil war between these French and German factions. Although Berengar eventually won out by 898 (seemingly due principally to the death of most of his rivals, rather than any real competence on his part), it is very difficult to get away from a vision of a deeply uncertain and conflict-ridden late ninth century throughout most of Italy, including Rome. It is in this context that the papacy of Formosus (891-896) must be seen. It is not possible to come to any conclusions about the popes between John VIII and Formosus, due to us having practically no evidence for them. 4 Indeed, even in the case of Formosus, we have very little knowledge of what happened during his pontificate. Rather, he is in a perhaps unique position in world history for being most famous for an event which happened to him after his death. In January 897, during the pontificate of Stephen VI, Formosus’ corpse was dug up and publicly put on trial in Rome. According to Liudprand of Cremona: Once appointed, as if impious and ignorant of holy doctrines, Sergius (i.e. Stephen – quite how Liudprand confused the two is unclear) ordered Formosus to be extracted from his tomb and placed on the seat of the Roman pontiffs, dressed in his priestly attire. To him he said: ‘When you were bishop of Porto, why did you usurp the universal Roman see in a spirit of ambition?’ Once these things were done, he ordered the corpse, stripped of its holy vestments and with three fingers cut off, to be tossed

2 Giovanni Tabacco, The Struggle for Power in Medieval Italy (Cambridge: CUP, 1989), pp.144-81 (chapter 4). 3 The labels ‘French’ and ‘German’ are from Chris Wickham, Early Medieval Italy: Central Power and Local Society 400-1000 (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1981), p. 170. These are certainly anachronistic labels, but they are a convenient shorthand. 4 Although their names were Marinus I (882-884), Hadrian III (884-885) and Stephen V (885-891).

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into the Tiber, and, after degrading them to their former stations, he again ordained all those whom Formosus had ordained.5

This is not an especially commonplace occurrence. It is perhaps unsurprising that most accounts of the papacy and/or Rome in the late ninth century tend to simply give the so-called ‘Synod of the Corpse’ as a passing curiosity, with no real attempt to engage with it – Peter Partner, for example, merely tells us that ‘the dead man was condemned, and his tenure of the Roman See and consequently his ordinations as pope were pronounced invalid; the fingers which had pronounced benediction were torn from the body, and it was thrown into the Tiber’, before swiftly moving onto a discussion of the early tenth century.6 Despite the age of this book, this is still a fairly representative example of how Formosus tends simply to be dismissed without any real engagement with the clear problems and areas of interest his trial represents. To be fair, the last ten years or so seem to have brought about more interest in Formosus’ bizarre experiences. Most notably, Annette Grabowsky is now the foremost expert in Formosan studies, and her PhD thesis, submitted in Tübingen in 2012, is the best study of Formosus yet written.7 Lucia Castaldi has also added enormously to our understanding of Formosus, most notably in her 2010 article arguing that the disgrace of Formosus after his flight from Rome in 876 led to a reworking of John the Deacon’s Life of Gregory the Great and Cena Cypriani.8 Finally, a string of recent articles from Conrad Leyser has argued convincingly that Formosus’ trial, and the later disputes and Streitschriften arising from it, are best seen in the context of ongoing debates about clerical careerism, episcopal transfer and so on.9 None of these 5 Liudprand of Cremona, Antapodosis I.30, Paolo Squatriti (ed & trans.), The Complete Works of Liudprand of Cremona (Washington, DC, 2007), p. 64: ‘Quo constituto, ut inpius doctrinarumque sanctarum ignarus, Formosum e sepulcro extrahere atque in sedem Romani pontificatus sacerdotalibus vestimentis indutum collocare praecepit. Cui et ait: ‘Cum Portuensis esses episcopus, cur ambitionis spiritu Romanam universalem usurpasti sedem?’ His expletis, sacratis mox exutum vestimentis digitisque tribus abscisis, in Tiberim iactare praecipit cunctosque, quos ipse ordinavit.’ Joseph Becker (ed), Die Werke Liudprands von Cremona (Hannover/Leipzig: Hahnsche, 1915), p. 25. 6 Peter Partner, The Lands of St Peter (London: Eyre Methuen, 1972), p. 77. 7 Annette Grabowsky, Streit um Formosus. Edition und Analyse der Streitschriften des Auxilius. I am very grateful to Dr Grabowsky for both sending this to me and engaging in email discussion about Formosus, and ninth century Rome more generally. 8 Lucia Castaldi, ‘Le dediche di Giovanni Immonide’, Filologia Mediolatina 17 (2010), pp. 39-69. 9 Conrad Leyser, ‘Episcopal office in the Italy of Liudprand of Cremona,c.890-c.970’, English Historical Review 125 no. 515 (2010), pp. 795-817; Conrad Leyser, ‘Charisma in the Archives: Roman Monasteries and the Memory of Gregory the Great, c.870 -c.940’, in Walter Pohl and F. de Rubeis

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publications, however, are really focussed on the Synod of the Corpse per se. Rather, they are predominantly examinations of the disputes and debates surrounding the memory of Formosus in the early tenth century, and/or the intellectual milieu to which these texts belong. These are extremely interesting topics in and of themselves, and they will be discussed in this chapter, but still these authors do not really aim at analysing what the Synod of the Corpse, or more accurately Liudprand’s representation of it, represented to its contemporary audience (assuming it did indeed happen, which is highly debatable). What all this does mean is that the writings of Auxilius and Vulgarius, and the Invectiva in Romam, have been adequately treated. There is still scope, however, to examine Liudprand’s account of the Synod of the Corpse and examine what it says about the politics of both Rome in the 890s and ‘Germany’ in the mid-tenth century, the time at which Liudprand was writing. It seems, to me at least, that the Synod of the Corpse, at least in the way in which it is presented to us by Liudprand, is essentially a parody of Carolingian penance ritual.10 It is not really disputed anymore that most of Liudprand’s output consists of a sustained attempt to denigrate the ruling (semi-)Carolingian dynasty in Italy at the time he was writing in the mid-tenth century, by associating Italian politics with extraordinary and lurid practices.11 The Synod of the Corpse is simply one relatively minor example of the many ways in which Italians are strange and need Germans to guide them on their proper path of historical development (in Liudprand’s view). Therefore, despite the overwhelmingly negative view of the late ninth century papacy we are presented with, we are reliant on the observations of one man not known for his liking of Italy. This links neatly with the well-known thesis of Philippe Buc, that all we really know about early medieval ‘ritual’ comes from written accounts of those rituals – so although we can explore what is going on in these authors’ accounts, we cannot really get especially close to knowing about the rituals they are (eds.), Le scritture dei monasteri (Rome: Acta Instituti Romi Finlandiae, 2003), pp. 207-226; Conrad Leyser, ‘The Memory of Pope Gregory the Great in the Ninth Century: A Redating of the Interpolator’s Vita Gregorii (BHL 3640)’, in F. Santo (ed), Gregorio magno e le origini dell’Europa (Florence: Claudio Leonardi, 2014), pp. 51-64; Conrad Leyser, ‘The Memory of Gregory the Great and the Making of Latin Europe, 600-1000’, in Conrad Leyser and Kate Cooper (eds), Making Early Medieval Societies (Cambridge: CUP, 2016), pp. 181-201. 10 The best investigation into which is of course Mayke de Jong, The Penitential State (Cambridge: CUP, 2009). 11 Argued most forcefully by Philippe Buc, ‘Italian Hussies and German Matrons: Liutprand of Cremona on Dynastic Legitimacy’, in Frühmittelalterliche Studien 29 (1995), pp. 207-225.

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describing.12 Although I would not want to push Buc’s arguments too far,13 he does make a very good point in arguing that we cannot ultimately access medieval rituals through the accounts we are presented with by medieval authors. I will therefore use Buc’s arguments as a jumping-off point to discuss what seem to me to be the three main points of interest as regards Formosus and the Synod of the Corpse: the idea that the Synod, or at least Liudprand’s description of it, should be seen as a parody of Carolingian penance ritual, the disputes and debates which the treatment of Formosus seems to have thrown up with regards to episcopal transfer, and finally the memory of Formosus later in the tenth century, and the ways in which the figure of Formosus was redefined by various authors to suit their particular ideological world views.

Bad Ritual We are told by most of the existing scholarship that the Carolingians rather enjoyed rituals, as evidenced by the huge number of publications dealing with, among other things, coronation rituals, penance rituals, death rituals, and so on.14 Perhaps the most well-known of all these rituals is the public penance of Louis the Pious in the early 830s.15 To quote Mayke de Jong: The imperial penance only makes sense if one accepts that there was an emperor who, together with his bishops and magnates, feared divine retribution as the inevitable consequence of sin, and directed his policies accordingly. The notion that the leadership of this polity was accountable to God because of its divinely bestowed ‘ministry’ (ministerium) – as a ruler, a bishop, an abbot or abbess, or a count – was not just a figment of the clerical imagination, but a fascinating Carolingian adaptation of the ideas on ministry developed in Gregory the Great’s Regula Pastoralis; by the ninth century, those with a ministerium included kings and counts.16 12 Philippe Buc, The Dangers of Ritual (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2001). 13 For critiques, see, e.g. Geoffrey Koziol, ‘Review Article: The Dangers of Polemic: Is Ritual Still an Interesting Topic of Historical Study?’, Early Medieval Europe (2002), pp. 367-88; & Alexandra Walsham, ‘The Dangers of Ritual’, Past and Present 180 (2003), pp. 277-287. 14 Some of very many studies on this topic include Janet L. Nelson, Politics and Ritual in Early Medieval Europe (London: Hambledon Press, 1986); Janet L. Nelson, The Frankish World 750-900 (London: Hambledon Press, 1996); de Jong, Penitential State. 15 Discussed in great detail by de Jong, Penitential State, pp. 185-213. 16 de Jong, Penitential State, pp. 3-4.

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Obviously, those with a ministerium included bishops as well. Essentially, if we take de Jong’s convincing argument that the network of ministeria in the ninth century constituted a network of officeholders who thought of themselves as being accountable to God, the Synod of the Corpse perhaps begins to make more sense. If Louis the Pious and his entourage needed to undertake their penance as a purificatory measure for the entirety of the Carolingian empire, there is, at least at face value no reason not to think that Pope Stephen VI, part of the same nexus of theological ideas about ministerium and accountability to God, might also have thought that a ceremony needed to be held to wipe away the stain of sin represented by Formosus’ usurpation of the Roman see ‘in a spirit of ambition’ – ambitious because he only became Bishop of Rome having transferred sees from Porto, on which more below. This theory is well and good, as far as it goes. The problem, though, is that we have no way of accessing whether this was indeed Stephen’s motivation for holding the Synod. Our earliest text discussing the Synod of the Corpse is almost certainly Auxilius, probably writing in the 890s or 900s.17 Aside from this, we have the Invectiva in Romam, probably from the 910s, and the account in Liudprand.18 What these all have in common is that they were written significantly later than the events they purport to describe. Therefore, we are dependent on texts describing these events which may or may not match up to how they occurred ‘in reality’. This all dovetails with Philippe Buc’s thesis that, in his words, ‘there can be no anthropological readings of rituals depicted in medieval texts. There can only be anthropological readings of (1) medieval textual practices or perhaps (2) medieval practices that the historian has reconstructed using texts, with full and constant sensitivity of their status as texts.’19 What Buc is essentially saying here is that there is no way of accessing medieval ‘rituals’ wie sie eigentlich gewesen sind – rather, all we can really analyse are authorial motivations, biases and so on. To quote Buc again: The bad rituals that the medievalist encounters do occur in texts. They do not reveal necessarily so much the existence of disorder in society or polity as point to authorial dissent. Whether authorial dissent is itself symptomatic of actual social disorder is another matter altogether, to be 17 See the long discussion in Grabowsky, Einleitung, pp. 54-70. 18 To be specific, accounts of the Synod of the Corpse can be found at Liudprand, Antapodosis I.30 (above), and Annette Grabowsky, Edition (Auxilius and Invectiva). 19 Buc, Dangers of Ritual, p. 4.

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explored with other parameters factored in […] At the simplest level, bad rituals constitute evidence for authorial practice.20

If Buc is right, and all we have from Liudprand really represents is Liudprand’s own feelings on the legitimacy or otherwise of the Italian dynasty in the mid-tenth century, the traditional view of the descent of the papacy in the late ninth century into the ‘pornocracy’ of the tenth century begins to seem significantly less clear-cut. It is pointless to debate whether the Synod of the Corpse actually happened (for the record, I think it is unlikely) – what matters for our purposes is how Liudprand represents it, and what that says about how Formosus and other ninth century popes were remembered later. This then has implications for the reshaping of papal history in the eleventh century, and how history was rewritten to legitimise the aims and objectives of the Gregorian reform movement. Broadly, Liudprand’s characterisation of the Synod of the Corpse reflects his standpoint as a man writing, in the final analysis, as a propagandist for the Ottonian dynasty.21 This much is widely acknowledged (indeed, the Antapodosis is explicitly written as revenge for the slights performed on Liudprand by Berengar II), but the specific ways this is done are less often remarked upon. The (nominal) rulers of Italy in the tenth century were Carolingians – Berengar I and II were both descended from the Carolingian princess Gisela, and Hugh’s mother, Bertha, was a daughter of Louis II.22 Therefore, they represented a threat to Ottonian legitimacy. Thus, Liudprand, in the Antapodosis, systematically sets about attempting to denigrate Italian customs, rituals and social practices, to make them seem absurd enough to neutralise any threat they might pose to Otto’s ambitions to establish his rule in Italy. A very interesting 1995 article by Philippe Buc sets out how Liudprand does this with specific reference to his portrayals of Italian and German women: ‘Liudprand organised his feminine figures into a diptych contrasting German matrons and Italian hussies. Or rather – for the ethnic origins of these women do not matter as much as the aristocratic or royal kindreds into which they ended up bearing children – Ottonian princesses and women of dynasties contending for power in Northern Italy.’23 Essentially, if Liudprand can cast sufficient doubt on the sexual integrity of Italian women, in contrast to the perfect chasteness of 20 Buc, Dangers of Ritual, p. 10. 21 Excellent on this theme is Simon MacLean, Ottonian Queenship (Oxford: OUP, 2017), which unfortunately appeared too late for me to systematically incorporate in to this chapter. 22 Philippe Buc, ‘Italian Hussies and German Matrons: Liudprand of Cremona on Dynastic Legitimacy’, Frühmittelalterliche Studien 29 (1995), pp. 207-225, at p. 209. 23 Buc, ‘Italian Hussies’, p. 219.

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his German matriarchal figures, and thus de-legitimise the inheritance of Carolingian power these Italian rulers claim for themselves, it is far easier to deny the Italian dynasts’ claims to have the right to rule Italy. This is why we are told all the lurid stories by Liudprand of women acting shamefully (most notably Marozia) – all the contenders for the Italian throne in the first half of the tenth century were descended from the daughters of Carolingian emperors. Women mattered in western genealogies, as is confirmed by Liudprand telling us that the Byzantines were uninterested in the fact that Romanos’ proposed bride was the illegitimate daughter of King Hugh, because for them only paternal descent counted.24 In Buc’s words: Carolingian ancestry – something which Otto sorely lacked – among northern Italian dynasts had to undergo a damnatio memoriae if Ottonian claims to the Lombard crown and to the Empire were to be secure. Some of the Antapodosis’ most important female characters were descended from Charlemagne. Their names themselves – Bertha, Gisla, Ermengard – are pointers to the blood they carry. Gislar, Berengar II’s mother, bore her grandmother’s name – that of the sole full sister of emperor Charles the Bald. Her father Berengar I was proud of his Carolingian ancestry. Hugh and his son Lothar, kings of Italy, knew very well that they were descended from Charlemagne. King Lothar II’s daughter Bertha had transmitted Carolingian blood to her sons Hugh and Boso (sons of Thietbald of Arles) and to Wido, Lambert and Ermengard (the progeny of Adalbert of Tuscany).25

Liudprand is engaging in ‘the systematic destruction of the dynastic legitimacy of potential contenders for the Italian throne’.26 Buc’s argument that this was done through attacking Italian dynastic legitimacy is persuasive and correct. However, this was not the only avenue open for Liudprand to use. Dynastic legitimacy, or lack thereof, was not the only thing about the Italians which Liudprand deemed important. The way the Italians conducted their rituals also met with his ire. For example, later in Antapodosis we are given a description of the coronation of Lothar, Hugh’s son, as king of Italy: Therefore, with Berengar staying at Milan and handing out Italian offices to those who supported him, King Hugh sent Lothar, his son, not just into the presence of Berengar but to the entire people, asking that, since they 24 Antapodosis V:14; Buc, ‘Italian Hussies’, p. 221. 25 Buc, ‘Italian Hussies’, p. 221. 26 Buc, ‘Italian Hussies’, p. 224.

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rejected him as non-compliant with their wishes, at least for the love of God they should accept his son, who had committed no crime against them, and turn him into a ruler compliant with their wishes. Then, with Lothar heading to Milan, after having left Pavia with all the treasure, King Hugh was thinking of abandoning Italy and going to Burgundy. But this fact held him back, for the magnates, inclined to be merciful, lifted Lothar, who was prostrate before the cross in the church of Ambrose’s blessed martyrs and confessors, Gervase and Protase, and appointed him their king, soon after which event they sent a messenger to Hugh, to whom they promised he would again rule over them.27

This is, to all intents and purposes, a correct and legitimate royal ordination ritual. The fundamental thing present here is consensus – Lothar becomes king because of general agreement and concordia among those present at the meeting.28 However, immediately after this Liudprand tells us: Not all of them, but Berengar alone obviously dreamed up this plan, or rather trick, as he was stuffed full of cunning, not so that it might allow Lothar and Hugh to rule but, as later became clear, lest Hugh might leave and, with the immense fortune he had, incite the Burgundians or other peoples against Berengar.29

Therefore, Lothar’s coronation is an example of a ‘bad ritual’, at least as presented by Liudprand. Instead of being a result of consensus, and thus ‘conciliar’, it is the result of the cunning plan (‘consilium’) of Berengar.30 Lothar’s entire coronation was simply designed to assist the fortunes of one party in the Italian civil war.31 It is not, therefore, an orderly succession agreed to by all the political power brokers of the kingdom of Italy. In contrast, all successions described by Liudprand which take place in Germany are smooth and consensual affairs – for example, the accession of Henry of Saxony is described thus: When he had the aforesaid princes come to him, with Henry alone absent, he [King Conrad] spoke thus: ‘As you can see, the time of my calling from 27 Antapodosis: V:28, & Paolo Squatriti, The Complete Works of Liudprand of Cremona (Washington DC: Catholic University of America, 2007), pp. 190-1. 28 As noted by Buc, Dangers of Ritual, p. 33. 29 Antapodosis: V.28 see Squatriti, Complete Works of Liudprand, p. 191. 30 Buc, Dangers of Ritual, p. 34. 31 Buc, Dangers of Ritual, p. 34.

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corruption to incorruptibility, from mortality to immortality, is close. Wherefore I fervently ask that you always pursue peace and concord; when I leave mankind, let not any lust for ruling and no ambition to command inflame you. Elect Henry, most prudent duke of the Saxons and Thuringians, and make him your lord; for he is both mighty in knowledge and abundantly endowed with the severity it takes for fair judgement.’ Once these things were said, he ordered that his crown… and also all his royal vestments and sceptre, he brought there and, to the extent he could, he uttered words like these: ‘I ordain Henry heir and vicar to the royal dignity with these regal ornaments; and I not only advise, but I implore you to obey him.’ His demise followed this command, and soon after that everyone’s obedience. For with Conrad going to his death, the aforementioned princes brought Henry the crown and all the royal vestments; and they recounted in its proper order everything that King Conrad had said. At first, he humbly refused the apex of royal dignity, and after a little while took it on without ambition.32

The fundamental points which give Henry’s accession its legitimacy is concord among the nobles of the regnum, and Henry’s own unwillingness to become king. Neither of these are present in Lothar’s coronation in Italy. Liudprand here contrasts the fundamental order and legitimacy of the German/Ottonian world with the chaos and confusion reigning in Italy, with bad rituals, political scheming, civil wars, and so on and so forth.33 Liudprand’s account of the Synod of the Corpse should therefore be seen in the context of his generally less than favourable opinion of Italian rituals, at least compared to German ones. In my view, what he tells us about the trial of Formosus is a parody of both Carolingian penance ritual, and his belief about the general low standards of the Italians in the rituals they conduct, as well as their general comportment. Liudprand is trying both to de-legitimise the Italian rulers’ descent from the Carolingians, and therefore their eligibility to rule over the kingdom of Italy, and to present Italian political customs in as negative/ridiculous a light as possible. The Synod of the Corpse, at least as presented by Liudprand, does leave one unsure whether to laugh or cry. Presumably Liudprand wanted his readers to do both – the Italians are so 32 Antapodosis V.20 & Squatriti, Complete Works of Liudprand, p. 84f. Squatriti comments here (p. 85) that ‘seeking to avoid office was standard behaviour in early medieval narratives about good people’. 33 The last paragraph is heavily influenced by Buc, Dangers of Ritual, pp. 15ff.

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absurd, and so incapable of putting their own affairs in order, that it is really only fair that the Ottonians, with their fine Teutonic ways, should establish stability and order in Italy – especially seeing as Rome, which still retained its symbolic capital as the head of world Christendom during the tenth century and long afterwards, was being affected by the Italians’ incompetence and depravity. Indeed, not just Rome, but the pope is affected – the vicar of Christ on Earth is probably too important an office to be left to the Italians, so it is only right that the Ottonians should appoint someone favourable to them to that position. By the time the Antapodosis was written, of course, this was indeed happening – John XII, pope from 955 to 964, was more or less an Ottonian appointment, as were most of his immediate successors. Seen this way, then, Antapodosis, and Liudprand’s output more generally, becomes a tool to justify Ottonian interference in both Italian and Roman affairs. Arguing this regarding Italy generally is uncontroversial. However, the extent to which it can be read as justifying Ottonian dominance of the papacy itself has been neglected in previous scholarship. By painting Roman politics in as absurd a way as possible and drawing on the implicit associations of Rome with world power, and its bishop with the headship of the Church on earth, Liudprand manages to depict a world so awash with depravity, violence and insanity that its only real hope is for salvation from Germany. It probably was not really like this, of course – the fundamental institutions of the government of Rome remained intact and in place for the entirety of the tenth century, and if things really were as bad as Liudprand makes them out to be it is difficult to see how this could have happened without there being wholescale revolution. Liudprand’s refashioning of the ninth century papacy from something essentially sound to a symbol of Italian decadence would have important consequences in later centuries.

Episcopal transfer The Synod of the Corpse, then, quite clearly serves in Liudprand as a symbol of the corruption and decadence of the Roman aristocracy at this time. Liudprand, though, was more than a straightforward ‘propagandist’ for the Ottonian regime. He was also a man of his time, and one of the hottest debates in mid-tenth century Europe seems to have been the legitimacy or otherwise of episcopal transfer, i.e. the moving of a bishop from one see to another.34 Liudprand discusses this at length. For example, Liudprand 34 Leyser, ‘Episcopal Office’.

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tells us that Pope John X, who had already twice moved sees from Bologna to Ravenna and back again, was persuaded by Theodora ‘to desert the archiepiscopal see of Ravenna – O wickedness! – and to usurp the highest pontificate at Rome’.35 Despite Theodora’s influence, Liudprand makes it clear that John did have ambitions of his own – discussing his move from Bologna to Ravenna, he says that he ‘forsook his prior church of Bologna; swollen with the spirit of ambition, and in the face of the canons of the Holy Fathers, he usurped Ravenna for himself’.36 In discussing this topic of episcopal transfer, Liudprand seems to be engaging with an issue of some importance in whatever passed for the ‘public sphere’ of the tenth century. This new interest seems to have been brought on at least in part by the growing phenomenon of the Bishop of Rome transferring from another see, and Formosus, of course, was the standout example of this.37 Indeed, in many of the surviving texts discussing both Formosus and the issue of episcopal transfer, he seems to be put into action as something of an ideological football to discuss the legitimacy or otherwise of episcopal transfer. At f irst glance, it may seem slightly strange that episcopal transfer was indeed so controversial. St Peter, the f irst Bishop of Rome, was (at least according to tradition) initially the Bishop of Antioch, and, given the papacy’s general obsession with justifying its power by associating itself with Jesus’ commission of the Church to Peter, it may seem odd that repetition of what amounts to the papacy’s founding act was seen with such hostility. However, Sebastian Scholz has brought out a key distinction between ‘Transmigration’, whereby a bishop moves sees due to (what is seen to be) personal interest, and ‘Translation’, where the move takes place in the interests of the Church, rather than the self-interest of a particular bishop.38 On this reading, Peter’s transfer was justified, as it was done so that the church could expand in Rome and the western empire, out of its roots in the Greek East. ‘Transmigration’, however, is more problematic. Debates about the legitimacy or otherwise of ‘Transmigration’ reach back 35 Liudprand, Antapodosis II: 48, 55. 36 Liudprand, Antapodosis, II: 48, 55 & Leyser, ‘Episcopal Office’, p. 797f. 37 Sebastian Scholz, Transmigration und Translation (Vienna: Böhlau, 1992), p. 3: ‘Eine Sonderstellung nimmt im Mittelalter der Wechsel von Bischöfen auf die cathedra Petri ein. Im formosianischen Streit schien sich zunächst die Position der Antiformosianischer durchzusetzen, die den Wechsel eines Bischofs auf die prima sedes grundsätzlich ablehnten. Da diese Haltung jedoch einer bestimmten politischen Situation entsprang, kam es bald zu einem Umschwung. Bereits in der zweiten Hälfte des 10. Jh. galt der Wechsel eines Bischofs auf den Papststuhl offenbar als zulässig. Diese Auffassung hat sich später nicht mehr geändert.’ 38 Scholz, Transmigration und Translation, p. 1.

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to the very early church, and need not detain us for too long here, except to show that a position for or against ‘Transmigration’ could easily be justif ied with an appeal to church tradition. For example, in the third century, Cyprian announced that Novatian, the Bishop of Rome, was ‘adulter adque extraneus episcopus’,39 and ‘adulterum et contrarium caput’, 40 and that he sat on an ‘adultera cathedra’. 41 Given that the Acts of the Synod of Alexandria compare the ‘marriage’ of a bishop with his diocese to that of a man and a woman, 42 it would be easy to argue that Cyprian uses this language to describe Novatian because he has abandoned his old flock to become Bishop of Rome. However, Leo Obers and Sebastian Scholz have both argued persuasively that Cyprian’s description of Novatian as ‘adulterus’, etc., in fact refer to his being (in Cyprian’s eyes) a heretic and have nothing to do with episcopal transfer. 43 This is just one among many examples of the church fathers being extremely open to interpretation about whether or not they forbid episcopal transfer. Essentially, the situation seems to have become clearer in the fourth century when episcopal councils started laying down clearer rules, but even then, things were still very much open to doubt. 44 The upshot of all this is that it is less than clear to us now, and therefore presumably also to writers in the tenth century, whether episcopal transfer was seen as legitimate in the early church. This may go some way to explaining the large amount of ink spilled in attacking or defending bishops who had transferred from one see to another. Such disputation was not new to the tenth century, either. The debate over episcopal transfer seems to have been well and truly alive in the ninth century, before Formosus became Bishop of Rome. An excellent example of this is the debate over the election of Actard as Bishop of Nantes in 843. 45 39 Cyprian, Ep. 55.24. 40 Cyprian, Ep. 45.1 41 Cyprian, Ep. 68.2. 42 On the basis of I Corinthians VII:27: ‘Are you bound to a wife? Do not seek to be free.’; Scholz, Transmigration und Translation, p. 5. 43 Scholz, Transmigration und Translation, p. 5ff; see also ‘Novatian’, in Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church. 44 Scholz, Transmigration und Translation, p. 17f.: ‘[Im 4. Jahrhundert,] das Verbot des Bistumswechsels war nicht Ausfluss einer mystischen Vorstellung, sondern Ergebnis der Form der Wahl und der Weihe des Bischofs sowie der sich entwickelnden Episkopalverfassung. Transmigration und Translation waren mit der Weihe des Bischofs auf eine Kirche nicht vereinbar. Zudem stand die Gemeinde dann vor dem Problem, einen ihr mehr oder weniger Unbekannten wählen zu müssen, über dessen Eignung sie kein Zeugnis ablegen konnte.’ 45 Discussed by Mary E. Sommar, ‘Hincmar of Rheims and the Canon Law of Episcopal Transfer’, Catholic Historical Review, 88 (3) (2002), pp. 429-445; & Scholz, Transmigration und Translation, pp. 130ff.

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Actard was elected following the death of his predecessor Gunhardus at the hands of the Vikings; when Nominoë the Breton gained control of Nantes in c.849 he expelled Actard in an attempt to establish an independent Breton church. 46 Actard later returned to Nantes after Charles the Bald made peace with the Bretons, only to be forced out again in 868 by Salomon the Breton, who replaced him with the separatist Bishop Gislard. 47 At this point, Pope Hadrian II sent letters to all the Frankish bishops telling them to find a suitable diocese for Actard as soon as possible; he also sent Actard the pallium as a sign of papal support.48 When Bishop Herard of Tours died in 871, the French bishops in a council at Douzy voted to approve Actard’s election by the clergy and people and wrote to Hadrian asking him to confirm Actard as the new metropolitan Archbishop of Tours; Hincmar of Rheims also sent a personal letter to Hadrian asking for Actard to be translated to the archdiocese, and Hadrian gladly approved all this. 49 However, for reasons best known to himself, Hincmar later changed his mind about this issue, and wrote a text called De quibus apud, arguing that Actard had deserted his own see of Nantes in order to serve his own greed and ambition (conveniently forgetting that Actard in fact was forced out of Nantes due to his personal affiliation with Charles the Bald, which Hincmar clearly states is a perfectly legitimate reason to leave a diocese).50 Whatever Hincmar’s motivations for writing this (Pope Hadrian’s clear liking for Actard may have had something to do with it), it is reasonably clear that episcopal transfer was a topic of active debate in the Carolingian world in the mid-ninth century. There also seems to have been some discussion of it in Rome. According to general consensus, in 872 Anastasius Bibliothecarius wrote a treatise entitled De episcoporum transmigratione et quod non temere iudicentur.51 Mary Sommar has argued that this treatise was probably written in response to Hincmar’s musings about episcopal transfer, and there does not seem to me to be any good reason to dispute this.52 Anastasius starts this treatise 46 AB s.a. 843; Julia Smith, Province and Empire: Brittany and the Carolingians (Cambridge: CUP, 1992), pp. 147-161. 47 Sommar, Hincmar, p. 431f. 48 MGH Epp. 6 pp. 710-712. 49 MGH Concilia 4 p. 527f (Council); Patrologia Latina 126.642A (Hincmar’s letter); MGH Epp. 6 pp. 738ff (Hadrian’s approval); Sommar, Hincmar, p. 432. 50 Patrologia Latina CXXVI.215D. 51 Of course, even if Anastasius did not write it, it is still significant as it shows that there was discussion of episcopal transfer going on in Rome in the 870s. 52 Sommar, Hincmar, p. 430.

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by listing 16 ancient bishops who have been translated to serve the utilitas ecclesiae, before quoting the opinion of the fifth century church historian Socrates: ‘[I]f therefore among the ancients a bishop moved from one city to another without dispute whenever the good of the church called, then it is proper that the same rule be applied in the present situation’.53 Anastasius also uses material from Pseudo-Isidore to argue that in the appropriate circumstances episcopal translation can be approved by a council of bishops or by the Holy See. An interesting point of comparison between these two treatises, by Anastasius and by Hincmar, is that there is only one common reference to law or to precedent, which is Gregory Nazianzus: ‘[I]t is as though Anastasius was trying to show what Hincmar had missed, or had chosen to ignore, and the large amount of Greek material allows Anastasius to showcase his erudition’.54 Simply put, then, there was a large amount of debate going on about episcopal transfer in the Frankish world, and in Rome, in the mid- to lateninth century. The basic distinction between ‘good’ and ‘bad’ episcopal transfer (Scholz’s Translation and Transmigration) seems to have been the degree to which the transfer was or was not motivated by self-interest. The earliest texts we have from the Streitschriften over Formosus reflect this. The pro-Formosan tract by the author known as Anastasius, which probably dates from no more than 15 or so years after the Synod of the Corpse, channels a vast array of examples from the early church to attempt to prove the legitimacy of episcopal transfer.55 We have here a clear attempt to demonstrate the legitimacy of episcopal transfer, so long as it is done, as Auxilius clearly thinks Gregory Nazianzen’s was, in the interests of the church as a whole. But of course, for this argument 53 Socrates, Historia ecclesiastica VII.36, Patrologia Graeca LXVII.818-822 (trans. Sommar, Hincmar, p. 438). 54 Sommar, Hincmar, p. 439. 55 ‘His hoc modo digestis uideamus, si hortatu cleri et populi ab episcopali minsterio in apostolatus sedem debuit transferri. Antherii papa. Unde sanctam sedem —- —- ad alteram ciuitatem. Haec Antherius (‘Antherius’ is really Pseudo-Isidore). Item apud chronica Graeca. Imperante igitur Romanorum secundo anno Arthemio, qui est et Anastasius, tertia decima indictione undecima die mensis Augusti translatus est de metropoli Zizico Germanus archiepiscopus Constantinopolim ——- sanctissimum archiepiscopum. Item Gregorius Nazianzenus prius unius ciuitatis Cappadociae fuit episcopus, quae Sasima dicebatur, deine a beato Basilio et aliorum episcoporum consensu Nazianzo constitutus est. Sunt et alii quam plurimi, qui necessitatis uel utilitatis causa de sede ad sedem uel de ciuitate ad ciuitatem translati sunt, quos commemorare fastidium duximus. Haec sancti patres.’ Ernst Dümmler, Auxilius und Vulgarius: Quellen und Forschungen zur Geschichte des Papsttums im Anfange des zehnten Jahrhunderts (Leipzig: S. Hirzel, 1866), p. 67f. (Dümmler’s edition has been superseded by that of Grabowsky, but I cite his as it is – just about – more easily accessible).

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to work, Auxilius needs to show that Formosus’ transfer from Porto to Rome was indeed done in the interests of the church, rather than out of Formosus’ personal ambition.56 Although Auxilius is less than clear about exactly why Formosus’ move from Porto to Rome was done for the good of the church, he is clearly convinced that it was, and uses all kinds of precedents to show that episcopal transfer is not as bad a thing as Formosus’ opponents (presumably) made it out to be – the same strategy used by Anastasius Bibliothecarius in his treatise on episcopal transfer. It is difficult to know exactly where this gets us. On the one hand, it may seem that this shared use of exempla from the early church shows that Auxilius was trying to draw on shared literary culture/understanding among the Roman church – this certainly existed under John VIII’s pontificate, and it is not entirely clear why it should have died down in the intervening years. On the other hand, presumably if one is trying to justify something on historical grounds, i.e. legitimising it by saying that it has been done in the past, one would look for precedents and set them out for one’s audience – i.e., exactly what both Anastasius and Auxilius clearly do. Whether or not Auxilius and Formosus’ other defenders57 were part of a shared intellectual culture in Rome (for the record, I think they are likely to have been), there is other evidence for discussion of this going on at the time. The most obvious example of this is Pseudo-Isidore,58 which is very insistent on the parallel between the marriage between a man and a woman and that between a bishop and his flock. There is not a great deal of evidence for this idea before the production of Pseudo-Isidore – it is

56 ‘Leontius autem dum esset presbiter, depositus fuit, sed postea in Antiochia patriarchia extitit. Gregorius uero quartus papa Theodosium, quem Eugenius eius antecessor presbiteri honore priuauerat, sanctae ecclesiae Signinae consecrauit episcopum. Ybas namque episcopus iudicatus fuit, sed sancta synodus canonice suam illi restituit ecclesiam. Rothadum uero episcopum Sessoniensis ecclesiae a synodo, cui Carolus rex interfuit, condemnatum et Soffrenum Placentinum episcopum merito reprobatum Nicolaus papa reconciliauit. Ex epistola sancti Gregorii papae ad Secundinum inclausum. Gregorius Secundino seruo dei incluso. Nam tua sanctitas nos requisuit, ut tibi —- —- spiritus contribulatus. Denique beatum Petrum —- —- negare praedixit. Ecce quibus et quantis testimoniis patet, quod uir domini Formosus non audacter, sed christiana indulgentia et sanctorum patrum auctoritate Romam introiuit et quod suae ecclesiae misericorditer restitututs fuerit iuxta illud, quod ad ecclesiae ministrum per Iohannem dicitur: Memento, unde cecideris et age poenitentiam et prima opera fac.’ Dümmler, Auxilius und Vulgarius, p. 66f. 57 E.g. the Invectiva in Romam. 58 On which see, obviously, Horst Furhmann, Einfluss und Verbreitung der Pseudoisidorischen Fälschungen (Hannover: Hiersemann, 1972-4).

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not really emphasised by patristic writers, for example.59 Pseudo-Isidore, however, very much enforces the point – take, as an example, the discussion of this theme by Pseudo-Anterus.60 Why Pseudo-Isidore is so concerned with the marriage between a bishop and his diocese is not relevant here.61 However, this is clear evidence for a discourse about this topic taking place in ninth century Europe. We know that Pseudo-Isidore was read in Rome (probably with some relish), so it is not surprising that it seems to be informing the debates about episcopal transfer which we find reflected in the writings of Formosus’ defenders.62 However, Pseudo-Isidore does also make clear that episcopal transfer in and of itself is not really a problem.63 Here again, we see the fundamental distinction between moving sees for the good of the church (‘good transfer’) and for one’s own career advancement (‘bad transfer’). Moving sees of one’s own will was seen as being illegitimate, because it was a sign of inconstancy – but if the impulse to move did not

59 Jean Gaudemet, ‘Le symbolisme du mariage entre l’évêque et son église et ses conséquences juridiques’, in Jean Gaudemet, Droit de l’Eglise et vie sociale au Moyen Age (Northampton: Variorum, 1989), pp. 110-129, at p. 113: ‘Le symbolisme du mariage de l’évêque avec son église était resté modeste à l’âge patristique.’ 60 ‘Et sicut vir non debet neglegere uxorem suam, sed diligere et caste custodire et amare atque prudenter regere, sic episcopus debet ecclesiam suam, quia illud fit carnaliter, istud spiritaliter; et sicut vir non debet adulterare, ita nec episcopus ecclesiam suam, id est, ut illam dimittat ad quam sacratus est.’ Paul Hinschius (ed), Decretales Pseudo-Isidorianae et Capitula Angilramni (Leipzig: B. Tauchnitz, 1863), p. 90; Leyser, Episcopal office, p. 803. 61 Gaudemet, Le symbolisme, p. 113f argues convincingly that it is because Pseudo-Isidore’s basic aim is to limit the power of metropolitans over their suffragans, and linking bishops to their dioceses as strongly as possible helps to do this. 62 And it was very influential outside Rome: ‘Les textes du Pseudo-Isidore qui, pour étayer leur défense des droits de l’évêque dans son diocèse et s’opposer à des transferts abusifs, avaient ainsi valorisé le symbolisme du mariage de l’évêque, furent repris dans les Collections canoniques ultérieurs, en particulier par Réginon, Burchard, la Collection en deux Livres, celles on 74 Titres, la Collectio canonum d’Anselme de Lucques, Ives de Chartres, avant d’aboutir au Décret de Gratien […] Ainsi avec continuité du milieu de IXe au milieu de XIe siècle, les collections canoniques, aussi bien dans l’Empire qu’en France ou en Italie, acceptent le symbolisme du mariage de l’évêque avec son église.’ Gaudemet, Le symbolisme, p. 114f. 63 ‘Non enim transit de civitate ad civitatem, qui non suo libitu aut ambitu hoc facit, sed utilitate quadem aut necessitate, aliorum hortatu et consilio potiorum transfertur. Nec transfertur de minori civitate ad maiorem qui hoc non ambitu nec propria voluntate facit, sed aut vi a propria sede pulsus aut necessitate coactus aut utilitate loci aut populi, non superbe, sed cum humiliter ab aliis translatus et intronizatus est, quia homo videt in facie, deus autem in corde. Et dominus per prophetam loquitur dicens: Dominus scit cogitationes hominum quoniam vanae sunt.’ Paul Hinschius (ed), Decretales Pseudo-Isidorianae et Capitula Angilramni (Leipzig: B. Tauchnitz, 1863), p. 152; Leyser, Episcopal office, p. 805.

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come from the bishop himself there was no fundamental problem with it.64 Indeed, Liudprand himself does not seem to have any problem with Formosus moving sees – his anger in Antapodosis is rather directed at Stephen for putting Formosus on trial despite the fact that he had, in Liudprand’s opinion, legitimately moved sees, as opposed to Pope John X, whom Liudprand very much sees as a clerical careerist.65 This perspective is shared by the Invectiva in Romam, written probably in the 910s, which uses Pseudo-Anterus to defend Formosus and attack John X, whose assumption of power in Ravenna, we are told, was ‘against all canonical authority’, and when he became pope ‘with unspeakable daring, he usurped the holy Roman and apostolic church, and now he wishes to bind and loose according to his whim’.66 It is clear, then, from our surviving evidence, that it was quite possible for Formosus’ defenders to dispute the charge against him of usurping the bishopric of Rome out of his own lust for power, and to argue that Formosus’ episcopal transfer presented no problem in and of itself. It also needs to be considered that, before the Synod of the Corpse, Formosus had not only been elected pope, but had remained in the post for five years. Surely, therefore, there was at least some opinion prevalent in Rome that it was legitimate for him to do so – we do not know exactly how popes were appointed during this period, but if episcopal transfer in and of itself, or indeed Formosus’ own specific transfer, was such a problem, surely someone would have pointed this out at the time. This could be argued away by lack of evidence – it is theoretically possible that someone did indeed try to stop Formosus’ appointment as bishop of Rome, but for whatever reason was ignored by the majority of the populus Romanus, but even if this is the case Formosus remained pope for five years after his initial appointment. It is simply impossible to imagine how he could have remained in position if his claim to the papacy was regarded by a significant section of the population and/or clergy of Rome as fundamentally illegitimate, especially given the somewhat disputed nature of ninth century papal elections, and the generally unstable nature of Italian politics during this period (see above). The most logical explanation seems to me to be that there was a broad current of opinion in Rome that Formosus’ position as bishop was fundamentally legitimate and tenable, which is why we have no record of opposition to him during his pontificate. Rather, all our evidence for opposition to Formosus is from after his death. 64 Leyser, ‘Episcopal Office’, p. 805. 65 Leyser, ‘Episcopal Office’, p. 805f. 66 Patrologia Latina: CXXIX.837A; Leyser, ‘Episcopal Office’, p. 806.

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Bibliography Primary Sources Becker, Joseph (ed.), Die Werke Liudprands von Cremona (Hannover: Hahnsche, 1915). Dümmler, Ernst, Auxilius und Vulgarius: Quellen und Forschungen zur Geschichte des Papsttums im Anfange des zehnten Jahrhunderts (Leipzig: S. Hirzel, 1866). Hinschius, Paul (ed.), Decretales Pseudo-Isidorianae et Capitula Angilramni (Leipzig: B. Tauchnitz, 1863). Squatriti, Paolo, The Complete Works of Liudprand of Cremona (Washington DC: Catholic University of America, 2007).

Secondary Sources Buc, Philippe, ‘Italian Hussies and German Matrons: Liutprand of Cremona on Dynastic Legitimacy’, in Frühmittelalterliche Studien 29 (1995), pp. 207-225. Buc, Philippe, The Dangers of Ritual (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2001). Castaldi, Lucia, ‘Le dediche di Giovanni Immonide’, Filologia Mediolatina 17 (2010), pp. 39-69. Furhmann, Horst, Einfluss und Verbreitung der Pseudoisidorischen Fälschungen (Hannover: Hiersemann, 1972-4). Gaudemet, Jean, ‘Le symbolisme du mariage entre l’évêque et son église et ses conséquences juridiques’, in Jean Gaudemat, Droit de l’Eglise et vie sociale au Moyen Age (Northampton: Variorum, 1989), pp. 110-129. Grabowsky, Annette, Streit um Formosus. Edition und Analyse der Streitschriften des Auxilius (unpublished PhD: University of Tübingen, 2012). de Jong, Mayke, The Penitential State (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009). Koziol, Geoffrey, ‘Review Article: The Dangers of Polemic: Is Ritual Still an Interesting Topic of Historical Study?’, EME (2002), pp. 367-88. Leyser, Conrad, ‘Charisma in the Archives: Roman Monasteries and the Memory of Gregory the Great, c.870-c. 940’ in Walter Pohl and F. de Rubeis (eds.), Le scritture dei monasteri (Roma: Acta Instituti Romani Finlandiae, 2003), pp. 207-226. Leyser, Conrad, ‘Episcopal Office in the Italy of Liudprand of Cremona, c. 890-c. 970’, EHR 125 (515) (2010), pp. 795-817. Leyser, Conrad ‘The Memory of Pope Gregory the Great in the Ninth Century: A Redating of the Interpolator’s Vita Gregorii (BHL 3640)’, in F. Santo (ed), Gregorio magno e le origini dell’Europa (Firenze: Claudio Leonardi, 2014), pp. 51-64. Leyser, Conrad, ‘The Memory of Gregory the Great and the Making of Latin Europe, 600-1000’, in Conrad Leyser and Kate Cooper (eds), Making Early Medieval Societies (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016), pp. 181-201.

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MacLean, Simon, Kingship and Politics in the Late Ninth Century (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003). MacLean, Simon, Ottonian Queenship (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017). Nelson, Janet L., Politics and Ritual in Early Medieval Europe (London: Hambledoen Press, 1986) Nelson, Janet L., The Frankish World 750-900 (London: Hambledon Press, 1996). Partner, Peter, The Lands of St Peter (London: Eyre Methuen,1972). Scholz, Sebastian, Transmigration und Translation (Wien: Böhlau, 1992). Sommar, Mary E., ‘Hincmar of Rheims and the Canon Law of Episcopal Transfer’, Catholic Historical Review 88(3) (2002), pp. 429-445. Smith, Julia, Province and Empire: Brittany and the Carolingians (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992). Tabacco, Giovanni, The Struggle for Power in Medieval Italy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989). Valenti, Marco and Chris Wickham (eds.), Italy 888-962: A Turning Point (Turnhout: Brepols, 2013). Walsham, Alexandra, ‘The Dangers of Ritual’, Past and Present 180 (2003), pp.277-287. Wickham, Chris, Early Medieval Italy: Central Power and Local Society 400-1000 (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1981).

About the Author David Barritt completed his DPhil in History at Oxford University. He researches the papacy from the 9th to 11th centuries, with a particular focus on the foundations and justifications of papal authority. More broadly, he is interested in questions of the legitimation and articulation of power and authority.

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Sex, Denigration and Violence A Representation of Political Competition between Two Aristocratic Families in Ninth Century Italy Edoardo Manarini Abstract The conflict between Hucpoldings and Supponids is an interesting case study of competition within elites in Carolingian Italy. A peculiar narrative of this conflict has survived, included in the ‘so called’ Epitome chronicorum Casinensium. It is a tale of cupidity, violence and iniquity that took place at Louis II’s court between the Count Palatine Hucpold and the Empress Angelberga. This study will examine the literary layer of the account as well as the political situation which grounded the scene of this clash. Coming from the Hucpoldings’ point of view, the tale is an outstanding statement of how Hucpold’s descendants wanted to represent and remember the first period of their kinship in Italy, when they managed to settle their power. Keywords: Hucpoldings, Carolingian Italy, aristocracy, struggle for power, kinship representation

Over the last decades, the concept of competition among the aristocratic elites of Carolingian Europe has enabled scholars to better understand power relations and use of violence among elite groups in Frankish society.1 In turn, this has clarified the fundamental role played by the sovereign: the possibility for the proceres regni (‘kingdom’s magnates’) to have a share in the management of power, earn honours and offices at a local level, and

1 See François Bougard, Geneviève Bührer-Thierry, Regine Le Jan, ‘Les élites du haut Moyen Âge. Identités, strategies, mobilités’, Annales. Histoire, Sciences sociales, 68 (4) (2013), pp. 1096-1104.

Heath, C. and R. Houghton (eds.), Conflict and Violence in Medieval Italy 568-1154. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press 2022 doi: 10.5117/9789462985179_ch07

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therefore acquire wealth was closely dependent upon their capacity to acquire a degree of Königsnähe (‘proximity to the king’).2 An interesting case study for Carolingian Italy is the conflict between the Hucpolding and Supponid kinship groups.3 These vied for a leading role at the court of Louis II (844-875) and, at the same time, for control over the Emilian region extending between the Po River and the Apennines, from the capital Pavia to the former Exarchate of Ravenna.4 A very peculiar account of this conflict survives: a narrative of the first centuries of the Abbey of Montecassino, the Epitome chronicorum Casinensium (ECC), which describes an episode of lewdness, violence and injustice at the court of Louis II. The protagonists of this fictional episode are real historical figures: Count Palatine Hucpold, the first scion of the Hucpolding dynasty in Italy, his wife Andaberta and Empress Angelberga, of the Supponid lineage.5 The aim of the article is to examine the structure of the text, identify the narrative models it conforms to and interpret the episode in the light of political events in Italy in the second half of the ninth century. A comparison with available documentary sources will provide some essential information, enabling us to formulate a hypothesis as to how and why the 2 See Gerd Tellenbach, ‘From the Carolingian Imperial Nobility to the German Estate of Imperial Princes’, in The Medieval Nobility. Studies on the Ruling Classes of France and Germany from the Sixth to the Twelfth Century, ed. by Thomas Reuter (Amsterdam: North-Holland, 1979), pp. 207-208; Karl Schmid, ‘The Structure of the Nobility in the Earlier Middle Ages’, in The Medieval Nobility, p. 50; see also Chris Wickham, ‘The Changing Composition of Early Elites’, in Théorie et pratiques des élites au Haut Moyen Age, ed. by François Bougard, Hans-Werner Goetz, Regine Le Jan (Turnhout: Brepols, 2011), pp. 10, 13-14. 3 On the political and patrimonial development of the Hucpoldings see now Edoardo Manarini, I due volti del potere. Una parentela atipica di ufficiali e signori nel regno italico (Milano: Ledizioni, 2016). As an overall study of the Supponid kinship group has yet to be produced, I will refer to the following contributions: Edward Hlawitschka, Franken, Alemannen, Bayern und Burgunder in Oberitalien (774-962) (Freiburg im Breisgau: Albert, 1960), pp. 299-309; François Bougard, ‘Les Supponides: échec à la reine’, in Les élites au haut Moyen Âge. Crises et renouvellements, ed. by François Bougard, Laurent Feller, Regine Le Jan (Turnhout: Brepols, 2006), pp. 381-402; Tiziana Lazzari, ‘Una mamma carolingia e una moglie supponide: percorsi femminili di legittimazione e potere nel regno italico’, in “C’era una volta un re…”. Aspetti e momenti della regalità, ed. by Giovanni Isabella (Bologna: CLUEB, 2005), pp. 41-57. 4 For an overview on this area, see François Bougard, ‘Du centre à la périphérie: le ‘ventre mou’ du royaume d’Italie de la mort de Louis II à l’avènement de Otton Ier ’; Tiziana Lazzari, ‘Città e territori: l’articolazione delle circoscrizioni pubbliche nell’Italia padana (secoli IX-XI)’, in Urban Identities in Northern Italy (800-1100 ca.), ed. by Cristina La Rocca, Pietro Majocchi (Turnhout: Brepols, 2015), pp. 339-56. 5 As regards the name of Hucpold’s wife, Andaberta, a degree of caution is required, given that it is only mentioned in the ECC – even though the existence of the woman can hardly be doubted; see Manarini, I due volti, p. 36.

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passage was composed, and to frame the conflict it describes within the context of the struggle over the broad area of Emilia known as the iudiciaria Mutinensis.6 The fundamental argument of this paper is that the fictional account inserted in the final part of the ECC was developed among the Hucpoldings group, although the meagre details we have preclude us from concluding anything with respect to the author of the text. Shaped close to the 860s political events, the narrative sequence was later reworked through a Biblical model from Genesis in the monastery of Adili, a place of culture and power closely tied to Hucpold’s descendants, that later became a Cassinese dependency. That monastery should have been thus the link through which the episode entered in the vast and manifold Cassinese cluster of memories. After addressing the ECC conservative pattern and its contextualisation in the Cassinese tradition, we shall focus on three connected points. First, we shall analyse the narrative sequence and its Biblical model, to propose a contextualisation that will consider what we know about Louis II’s reign. Secondly, the peculiarity of the passage regarding the juridical use of the ordeal by fire allows us to broaden the enquiry evaluating other literary, legal and hagiographic sources that mention the practice of the proof of truthfulness in trials as well. Lastly, the third point will deal with an analysis of the two protagonists portrayed in the episode and of their own kin groups, to outline the wider political context and to define also the territorial coordinates where the political turmoil could have taken place. As already stated above, I will suggest the monastic foundation of Adili established in the iudiciaria Mutinensis as the place where the text received the current shape.

The Epitome chronicorum Casinensium: A First Survey A few words of introduction are in order before approaching our text. Due to the nature of research thus far undertaken on the ECC only preliminary remarks on this complex source, can at this point be formulated. The passage we will be examining is part of a composite work which redevelops memories and documents from the Cassinese tradition. The text has reached us via a single complete copy approximately from the second 6 See Tiziana Lazzari, ‘La creazione di un territorio: il comitato di Modena e i suoi “confini”’, in Distinguere, separare, condividere. I confini nelle campagne dell’Italia medievale, ed. by Paola Guglielmotti, Reti Medievali Rivista, 7 (1) (2006), pp. 101-118.

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half of the sixteenth century, which is stored in the University Library in Padua.7 This copy belonged to the library of the Venetian monastery of St George Maior and was still to be found there in 1806, within a volume also containing other historical texts.8 In the wake of the disruption caused by Napoleon, the manuscript, given its little monetary worth, was transferred to the former monastery of St Anna in Padua, along with those from forty other monastic institutions.9 It then reached the University Library of the city some time before 1816.10 Probably after this last move, at the time of its final recording as ms. 1607, the manuscript was removed from the miscellaneous volume and bound in the form we find it in today. Two other manuscript witnesses of the text exist, which record two incomplete versions that break off at two different points: these are ms. 1208 from Padua University Library and Chigi I.VI.226, preserved in the Vatican Library. Both manuscripts may be dated to the fifteenth-seventeenth century, which is to say roughly the same period as BUP 1607, and contain a collection of historical works, homilies and hagiographic narratives from the Cassinese tradition.11 In the following pages, however, I will not be taking them into account, since both manuscripts break off before the text under investigation. The complete manuscript, BUP 1607, has long been the only manuscript known to modern historians.12 Ludovico Muratori consulted it in St George’s library in the eighteenth century and published the only edition of the text in his Rerum Italicarum Scriptores.13 On the basis of the heading of the manuscript from Padua,14 Muratori – not without some doubts – at7 Biblioteca universitaria di Padova, ms. 1607. 8 This is attested by the catalogue of the library of the monastery of St George drafted by Giovanni Rossi in 1806: Giorgio Ravegnani, Le biblioteche di S. Giorgio Maggiore (Firenze: L.S. Olschki, 1976), p. 90. 9 Ravegnani, Le biblioteche, p. 66. 10 Ravegnani, Le biblioteche, p. 68. 11 In addition to a shorter version of the ECC, BUP ms. 1208 contains some works by Peter the Deacon and transcriptions of papal privileges to Montecassino; BAV cod. Chig. I.VI.226 instead contains, in addition to two works by Peter the Deacon, two modern historical texts written by Andrea Taurelli and Ferreto de’ Ferreti; on the life and work of this last author see Sante Bortolami, ‘Ferreti, Ferreto de’’, in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani, vol. 47 (Roma: Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana, 1997), pp. 57-60. 12 The Vatican codex is first mentioned in Erich Caspar, Petrus diaconus und die Monte Cassiner Fälschungen. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte des Italienischen Geistesleben in Mittelalter (Berlin: Springer, 1909), p. 111. 13 Epitome chronicorum Casinensium, in Rerum Italicarum Scriptores, vol. II.1, ed. by Ludovico A. Muratori (Milano: Società palatina della regia curia 1723), pp. 351-370. 14 Epitome chronicorum Casinensium, p. 347.

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tributed the text to one Anastasius, a librarian of the Apostolic See who was active under Pope Stephen II (752-757). He is referred to as Anastasius senior (‘the elder’), to distinguish him from the ninth century librarian of the same name. As we shall soon see, the fictitious nature of this character can hardly be doubted: it probably conceals the hand of Peter the Deacon, the twelfth-century archivist and librarian from Montecassino. The text transmitted by BUP 1607 under the title of ECC consists of two distinct parts. The first relates events surrounding the relics of St Benedict and his sister Scholastica which, following the first destruction of Montecassino, were taken to Francia in the early seventh century. According to the ECC, the relics were later brought back to Italy in the eighth century at the behest of King Pippin I (751-768) and his brother Carloman, who become a Cassinese monk. Significantly, this narrative is the only account of the relics of Montecassino’s founding saint: after the assertions of Paul the Deacon in his Historia Langobardorum, who claimed against the Frankish translation story that the eyes and the mouth, together with some other parts of Benedict’s body, were still in Montecassino, no place was given to the subject in later historiographical works from the monastery.15 Whereas the memory of the translation of St Benedict’s relics was made the object of various narrative works at the French Abbey of Fleury, from the ninth century onwards the Cassinese monks chose to completely ignore the event 16 – with the one exception of the ECC. The second half of the text consists of a catalogue of the abbots of the monastery, also providing patrimonial, political and cultural information for each abbot. The series begins with a long text that brings together episodes from the life of St Benedict and continues until the death of Abbot Bassacius (837-856), ending with a short portrait of his successor, martyr-Abbot Bertarius (856-883). A narrative so neatly subdivided by abbotship finds no parallels in other Cassinese chronicles from the period before the Saracen destruction in 883, or even in the great eleventh century composition by Leo of Ostia. The episode occurs precisely in the last section of the life of 15 Paul the Deacon, Historia Langobardorum, VI, 2, in MGH SS rer. Lang., ed. by Georg Waitz (Hannover: Hahnsche Buchhandlung, 1878), p. 165. See Paul Meyvaert, ‘Peter the Deacon and the Tomb of Saint Benedict: a Re-examination of the Cassinese Tradition’, in Paul Meyvaert, Benedict, Gregory, Bede and others (Londra: Variorum reprints, 1977), p. 12; and now on Paul’s work Christopher Heath, The Narrative World of Paul the Deacon: Between Empire and Identities in Lombard Italy (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2017). 16 See the study of both hagiographical traditions in Amalia Galdi, ‘S. Benedetto tra Montecassino e Fleury (VII-XII secolo)’, Mélanges de l’École française de Rome – Moyen Âge, 126 (2) (2014), pp. 557-573.

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Abbot Bassacius and constitutes a unique work within Cassinese historical literature. The most likely candidate for the authorship of the text of the ECC as we know it is Peter the Deacon. In his 1909 study on the Cassinese librarian and archivist, Erich Caspar also examined this text and included it among the fabricated ones produced by this author.17 Caspar’s work was so solid and detailed that for a long time it discouraged scholars from carrying out further studies on the sources he had identified as forgeries.18 What also contributed to this outcome was the militant approach of early twentiethcentury scholarship, particularly in Italy and at a local level: especially Cassinese historians found no need, or even found it counter-productive for their purposes, to take these spurious and unflattering testimonies into account to study and understand the Cassinese tradition.19 A substantial critical salvaging of the text of the ECC was undertaken by Paul Meyvaert. He did not question its attribution to Peter the Deacon, but critically examined the textual content of the account about the relics and tomb of St Benedict, viewing its composition within the framework of the history and tradition of Montecassino.20 In recent times Caspar’s interpretation has been unreservedly accepted by Mariano Dell’Omo, who nevertheless has found no mention of the ECC among the works listed in the three redactions of Peter’s autobiography.21 Other recent studies have the merit of moving beyond the question of the authorship of the work, to examine the historical content that the source has to offer, especially in its first part.22 As things stand, it is impossible to really solve the question, which not only entails the complex issue of the 17 Caspar, Petrus diaconus, pp. 111-121. 18 Several scholars have contested Caspar’s attribution: Tommaso Leccisotti observed that the ECC account conflicts with the Cassinese tradition on relics, see Tommaso Leccisotti, ‘La testimonianza storica’, in Il sepolcro di S. Benedetto, ed. by Tommaso Leccisotti (Roma: Sansaini, 1952), pp. 208, 209; Jacques Hourlier instead suggested the text be dated back to the ninth century, see Jacques Hourlier, ‘La translation d’après les sources narratives’, in Le culte et les reliques de saint Benoît et de sainte Scholastique, ed. by Antoine Beau (Montserrat: Publications de l’abadia de Montserrat, 1979), pp. 237-239. 19 See Leccisotti, ‘La testimonianza’, p. 105. 20 Meyvaert, ‘Peter the Deacon’, pp. 25-40. 21 Mariano Dell’Omo, ‘Le tre redazioni dell’‘Autobiografia’ di Pietro Diacono di Montecassino’, in Florentissima Proles Ecclesiae, ed. by Domenico Gobbi (Trento: Civis, 1996), pp. 212-215. 22 Constant J. Mews, ‘Gregory the Great, the Rule of Benedict and Roman Liturgy: The Evolution of a Legend’, Journal of Medieval History, 37 (2011), pp. 125-144; Ian Wood, ‘Between Rome and Jarrow: Papal Relations with Francia and England, from 597 to716’, in Chiese locali e chiese regionali nell’alto medioevo, vol. I (Spoleto: CISAM, 2014), p. 304; Jean-Marie Martin, ‘L’Epitome chronicorum Casinensium: les Carolingiens vus du Mont-Cassin’, in Sodalitas. Studi in memoria

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ECC, but also poses the difficult problem of determining what role Peter the Deacon played within the Cassinese tradition. Such a burdensome task lies well beyond the scope of the present pages, which – as has already been stated – are intended to examine and contextualise a particular narrative fragment from the ECC. While scholars of the history of Montecassino have ignored the narrative content of the episode, Tiziana Lazzari has been the first to stress its importance for reconstructing the political history of the Kingdom of Italy between the ninth and tenth century.23 The present study follows the trajectory she has traced.

Sex, Denigration and Violence at the Court of Louis II of Italy (844-875) The Episode The episode we are concerned with is presented at the end of the second section of the ECC, at the bottom of the extensive biography of Abbot Bassacius (837-856), although his successor Bertarius (856-883) too is mentioned. The passage we will be examining reads as follows: Then Louis II, who was ruling alone after Lothar I’s recent death, reaching the aforementioned abbot [i.e. Bassacius of Montecassino], came to Cassino with an enormous army, and moving to Bari killed many Saracens. So, after the emperor left, his wife cast her eyes on Count Palatine Tucpaldus and, finding him most attractive and born of royal lineage second to the emperor alone, began to provoke him sexually: thus, Tucbaldus was loved both by the emperor and the empress, albeit in different ways. Possessed by an evil spirit, late at night she saw the count while he was retiring and, following him inside his chamber, pulling his body towards her, said: ‘Here, as you can see, I am burning of love for you; therefore, I beg you to accept my offer: for, as you know, the emperor is lingering on in Italy. If you consent, I will give in your hands the imperial dignity, if you do not, you will face death’. Shaken by the empress’ words, the count tried instead to distract her from that aberrant pleasure with soft talks; but in vain she beat her teeth, uselessly, she punched the air. Instead, feeling di Don Faustino Avagliano, vol. I, ed. by Mariano Dell’Omo, Federico Marazzi, Fabio Simonelli, Cesare Crova (Montecassino: Pubblicazioni Cassinesi, 2016), pp. 647-658. 23 Lazzari, ‘La creazione’, p. 110.

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despised, the empress, clutching his cloak’s edge, attempted to coerce the man into indecent intercourse. Then Tucpaldus, fearing much more God than the emperor, took off the cloak she was grasping and fled. But the queen, harbouring deceit in her heart, kept his cloak and tore apart her dress, and when the emperor returned, she showed herself to him, saying the count palatine had harassed her. Immediately, the emperor, as if he had sentenced him to death, sent soldiers to Tucbaldus, who unaware was already going to see him, and ordered his execution. Then Tucbaldus’s wife, fearing the wrath of the emperor, sought refuge with Father Benedict along with her son, complaining despairingly that her man had been killed by emperor Louis. Since the emperor had been summoned to Italy by Abbot Bertarius – as will be explained more fully – because of the Saracens, and had already reached the mountain fortifications in Liguria, Pope Benedict went towards him, as it was custom to do. Therefore, Andaberta, Tucpaldus’s wife, complained that her husband had been killed unfairly and wanted to clear his honour of that injurious and false charge, if the emperor and the pope would allow it. The fire was lit without hesitation and twelve ploughshares were heated until they became white-hot. The woman, barefoot, walked on them unhurt, because of God’s protection. Therefore, admitting of being guilty of a crime, the emperor, together with Pope Benedict, granted a charter to Tucbaldus, the son of the murdered count, and to his descendants, establishing their perpetual rights over the Duchy of Liguria and Tuscia, that is a territory extending from the city of Rome to Modena, and also over the Duchy of Camerino down to Divia. Furthermore, he also confirmed the County of Konstanz and all the family properties in Alamannia. Moreover, he granted to him the County of Modena in perpetuity as well, together with other eight counties.24 24 ‘At Ludovicus, qui defuncto nuper patre solus regnabat, comitante iam dicto abbate, cum immenso exercitu Casinum pervenit, et Barum pergens, multos Saracenos morti addixit. Uxor namque Ludovici imperatoris in Tucbaldum palatii comitem post imperatoris discessum oculos iniecit, vidensque eum pulcherrimum et secundum ab imperatore regali genere ortum, coepit eum ad turpe lenocinium provocare: diligebatur namque idem Tucbaldus ab imperatore et ab imperatrice, licet diversimode. Quae diabolico debriata spiritu, nacta hora, dum comitem venientem vidisset, cubiculum ingressa ad se illum evocans dixit: ‘En ut cernis tui de amore pereo; quapropter rogo ut assensum praebeas, nam imperator, ut nosti, intra Italiam commoratur, si consenseris Romanum tibi tradam imperium, si non, mortis incurres periculum’. Comes autem ad imperatricis dicta turbatus blandis alloquiis illam a prava voluptate revocare coepit; sed frustra dentem in dentem tundebat, frustra aerem verberabat. Illa autem dum se contemni vidisset, apprehensa lacinia vestimenti, coepit trahere eum ad obscaenitatem libidinis. Tucbaldus vero, plus Deum quam imperatorem formidans, mantum quo utebatur in manu illius reliquit et abscessit. Reginam autem dolum in

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While Emperor Louis II was away from court, fighting the Saracens in southern Italy, the Empress – the name Angelberga is never mentioned – cast her eyes on Count Palatine Tucbaldus – a corrupted version of the name Hucbaldus — and, finding him most handsome and ‘born of royal lineage, second to the emperor alone’, started making sexual advances towards him. She was so diabolically inebriated that one night she followed the count into his private quarters and asked him to lie with her while the emperor was still away: if he agreed, she would offer him the Romanum imperium; if he refused, his life would be at risk. When the Empress attempted to coerce him into intercourse, Tucbaldus freed himself from the cloak which she was clutching and fled. Faced with rejection, the woman tore her clothes off and, upon her husband’s return, accused the Count of having raped her, presenting his cloak as evidence. Without hesitation, Louis sentenced Tucbaldus to death and sent soldiers to execute the unaware Count. Fearing the Emperor’s wrath, Andaberta, the Count’s wife, sought refuge with Father Benedict together with her son, desperately denouncing the fact that Louis had killed her husband. Then, taking advantage of the military campaign against the Saracens, in which both the emperor and Pope Benedict were involved, Andaberta protested against the injustice visited upon her husband and asked both to wash away the stain upon her family’s honour: twelve ploughshares were heated, and the woman walked over the burning tools unharmed. Realising his mistake, Louis immediately issued a preceptum for the son of the murdered Count, assigning him and his heirs the comitatus of Konstanz, all the property in Alemannia, and especially control over an extensive area encompassing most of central Italy, including – as is repeatedly emphasised in the text – Modena and its comitatus. corde retinens, retento indumento, scidit vestimenta sua, et redeunti imperatori ostendens dixit se ab palatino comite violatam. Statim Augustus, ac si suam comperisset mortem, missis militibus Tucbaldum ad se venientem, inauditum, vita privari praecepit. Uxor vero Tucbaldi Caesaris iram formidans ad patrem Benedictum cum filio suo declinavit, virum suum a Ludovico imperatore occisum deplorans. Cumque propter Saracenos idem imperator a Berthario Casinensi abbate, ut infra plenius dicetur, ad Italiam evocatus fuisset, et ad Clusas Liguriae pervenisset, papa Benedictus, ut moris erat, ei processit obviam. At Andaberta uxor praefati Tucbaldi iniuste perempti conqueritur virum suum, velle se illum a falso crimine purgare, si tamen id Caesari ac pontifici complaceret. Nec mora, accenditur ignis, vomeres duodecim inflammantur, super quos illa, Deo se protegente, nudis pedibus illesa deambulavit. Imperator autem, se esse reum de perpetrato crimine sciens, cum papa Benedicto fecit preceptum Tucbaldo filio interfecti comitis, et eius hereditatibus in perpetuum de ducatu Liguriae et Tuscie, ab urbe Roma usque ad Mutinam, et per totum Camarinum usque in Diviam, confirmans etiam comitatum Constantiensem et quicquid in Alemannia retinebant. Concessit autem eis in perpetuum comitatum Mutinensem cum aliis octo comitatibus.’ Epitome chronicorum Casinensium, p. 370 (translation my own).

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A Biblical Model and Its Meaning The ingredients of the episode are all clear: an adulterous and evil queen; the unjust punishment of the second most powerful man in the kingdom; and the man’s wife, a woman ready to do whatever it takes to restore her family’s honour. On the textual level, the models drawn upon are essentially Biblical ones. As Janet Nelson has shown,25 the classic point of reference for the figure of the adulterous queen is Jezebel,26 despised for her unruly sexual behaviour and idolatry;27 she therefore embodies the subverting of the kingdom and the ecclesia of God and has the capacity to drive her husband to do evil. In this case, however, the plot closely resembles an episode from Joseph’s life in Genesis, which tells of how, as a young slave in Potiphar’s house in Egypt, Joseph was tempted by his master’s wife.28 Geneviève Bührer-Thierry has shown that not only is the plot the same, but the author has literally borrowed from the Vulgate the two expressions which most distinguish the account:29 first of all, the action which gives rise to the whole episode, namely when the woman ‘oculos iniecit’ (‘cast her eyes’) on a man who is not her husband because of his good looks and – in Hucpold’s case – the honour of his lineage; second, the deceitful act which she devises by snatching the man’s cloak (‘apprehensa lacinia vestimenti’), which enables her to allege that she had been raped.30 In the light of the first quote, Bührer-Thierry identifies the origin of the narrative motive of the tale in the interpretation of the Biblical episode of Joseph provided by St. Augustine:31 the sin of adultery in this case falls not on Joseph, who was not responsible for his own handsomeness and, what’s more, was of servile rank; rather, ‘maritus debuit cavere uxoris oculos’ (‘a 25 Janet L. Nelson, ‘Queens as Jezebels: Brunhild and Balthild in Merovingian History’, in Janet L. Nelson, Politics and Rituals in Early Medieval Europe (London: The Hambledon Press, 1986), pp. 1-48. 26 The story of Achab’s wife Jezebel is featured in the Book of Kings of the Old Testament. Instigation is frequently presented as a typical feature of female power in early medieval sources: in addition to Jezabel, consider the figures of Job’s wife and of Herodias; see Geneviève Bührer-Thierry, ‘Reines adultères et empoisonneuses’, in Agire da donna. Modelli e pratiche della rappresentazione (secoli VI-X), ed. by Cristina La Rocca (Turnhout: Brepols 2007), pp. 156-157. 27 Female morality was the most common polemical target among medieval authors: Tiziana Lazzari, Le donne nell’alto medioevo (Milano-Torino: Bruno Mondadori, 2010), pp. 169-172. 28 Gen 39, 1-23. 29 Bührer-Thierry, ‘Reines adultéres’, p. 155. 30 The expressions are borrowed respectively from Gen 39:7: ‘[I]niecit domina sua oculos suos in Ioseph’; and Gen 39:12: ‘[E]t illa apprehensa lacinia vestimenti eius’. 31 Bührer-Thierry, ‘Reines adultéres’, pp. 155-156; the scholar also detects the same theme in the compositions of St Ambrose and of Caesarius of Arles.

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husband should pay attention to his wife’s eyes’),32 it is then the husband’s duty to guard his wife’s eyes. According to this reading, therefore, the author’s target is Louis II, who is being attacked by focusing on the immorality of his wife Angelberga.33 In my view, this explanation does not really get to the core of the episode: the author must have certainly been familiar with the passages in question and must have made conscious use of them; however, focusing on the textual level alone does not allow us to grasp the most distinguishing feature of the tale, namely the claim to legitimacy and the self-awareness voiced by the Count Palatine’s side, which is to say, by his kinsmen. Where the Struggle Took Place In early medieval culture, the public image of elite women was carefully construed in such a way as to paint their kinsmen in either a positive or negative light, depending on the context.34 As we have seen, the passage features two rival female protagonists: Angelberga and Andaberta. Who was the author referring to – or, rather, who was he seeking to portray – by focusing on these two figures? I would not maintain that Louis II lies behind the first, since he always plays a secondary role in the narrative and, although he is materially responsible for the act of injustice, he is later presented as the authority capable of bestowing new legitimacy on the descendants of the murdered Count. I am more inclined to view the figure of the Empress as an embodiment of her dynasty, the Supponids, who in 860 attained the height of their power at Louis’ court.35 This kinship group represented the main political rival for the Hucpoldings in the decades around the turn of the tenth century; although the conflict was waged not just within the royal court but also in a specific area of the kingdom. The specific reference to the comitatus of Konstanz and the region of Alamannia in the final section might be an echo of the area from which the 32 St Augustine, Sermo de beato Ioseph, in PL 39, Appendix, no. xiii, col. 1767. 33 The scholar ends her argument by defining the passage from the ECC as ‘un écho tardif de l’animosité suscitée par le pouvoir d’Angelberge au sein de la cour dans les années 870’: BührerThierry, ‘Reines adultères’, p. 156. This opinion is partly based on François Bougard, ‘Engelberga, imperatrice’, in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani, vol. 42 (Roma: Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana, 1993), p. 671. 34 Mayke De Jong, ‘Queens and Beauty in the Early Medieval West: Balthild, Theodelinda, Judith’, in Agire da donna, p. 236. 35 Bougard, ‘Les Supponides’, pp. 388-392; I have followed a valuable lead provided by Tiziana Lazzari: Lazzari, ‘La creazione’, p. 110.

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Hucpolding kinship group set out to reach Italy in the mid-ninth century.36 While often generic and conventionally used to describe the centre-north of Italy, the topographical references to the Italian peninsula instead all converge on the Modena area in Emilia, which must have constituted a focus of interest for the protagonists. A territory precisely mentioned in the ECC, this area of Emilia encompasses the dioceses of Reggio and Modena, together with part of that of Bologna, along the border between the Kingdom of Italy and the Exarchate of Ravenna.37 To sum up, it may be argued that the episode in question tells a story through a narrative re-elaboration that conforms to cultural patterns drawn from specific Biblical references. At the centre of the scene lies the struggle for power between two leading kinship groups at the head of the Carolingian Kingdom of Italy, a struggle which took place in two main settings: the royal palace and eastern Emilia. It is possible to add even further details, and I will do so in the third section of this essay. For now, I believe it will be helpful to return to the narrative scheme and the distinguishing elements of the passage, broadening my enquiry to other narratives that mention the same event, albeit in different ways. The Ordeal by Fire: Legislation and Narrative of the Proof of Truthfulness The peculiarity of the passage under consideration is not limited to the dynamics of the sexual encounter between the Queen and one of the King’s men, essentially modelled after Biblical accounts. The linchpin of the narrative is the ordeal by fire which the woman undergoes to prove her murdered husband’s innocence. What is most striking in the literary use of this ‘judgement of God’ is the specific variant chosen, which is far from common in medieval literature. In a recent study of the theme, François Bougard has shown that the use of fire in the exercising of justice in the Middle Ages, either as a punishment or as a means to discover the truth, rested on two traditions: on the one hand, Roman law; on the other, the tradition deriving from the Bible, the Church Fathers, and 36 See Manarini, I due volti, p. 35. 37 On the creation of this district see Lazzari, ‘La creazione’, pp. 105-110; see also Andrea Padovani, “Iudicaria motinensis”. Contributo allo studio del territorio bolognese nel Medioevo (Bologna: CLUEB, 1990); on the Hucpoldings’s control of it see Edoardo Manarini, ‘A Marriage, a Battle, an Honour: The Career of Boniface of the Hucpoldings during Rudolf II’s Italian Reign (924-926)’, Early Medieval Europe, 29 (1) (2020), pp. 289-309.

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the martyrs’ cult.38 In particular, the ordeal by fire, whether applied directly or indirectly, was the main means to test the truthfulness of defendants and was based on a direct relationship with the manifestation of truth, which is to say God himself.39 The ordeal by fire had already been in use – in the form of burning coals – in the Roman tradition and the Franks promoted its use as a means to settle disputes – particularly in the form of boiling water – in all areas under their sway.40 The real turning point came in the ninth century, under the influence of the Carolingians, when the ordeal came to be included in civil procedures, as a means to expose perjurers. It was in this period that, in addition to boiling water, the practice was introduced of having the defendant clasp some red-hot irons or walk over heated ploughshares.41 The use of red hot ploughshares was required in many legal cases involving particularly serious accusations: in the lex Thuringorum this ordeal is applied to all cases in which a woman is charged with adultery or with poisoning her husband but has no champion to stand up for her;42 a charter issued by Charlemagne in 803 calls for its use in those cases in which a person is accused of killing a relative who could attest to his servile status;43 finally, the Council of Mainz of 847, presided over by Rabanus Maurus, called for the application of this practice whenever a servus must clear himself of the charge of murdering a priest. 44 Bougard once again convincingly identifies the source of inspiration of these laws in the Bible – Book of Proverbs 6:28: ‘Or can one walk on hot coals and his feet not be scorched?’ – and in the patristic literature, where metaphorical uses of the word vomer are common, such as vomer Christi, vomer sermonis Dei, vomer praeceptorum, vomer legis, vomer predicationis, vomer disciplinae. 45 The episode from the ECC, then, falls within the adultery cases: in the narrative, Hucpold’s wife plays the role of her deceased husband’s champion, 38 François Bougard, ‘Le feu de la justice et le feu de l’épreuve, IVe-XIIe siècle’, in Il fuoco nell’alto medioevo (Spoleto: CISAM, 2013), pp. 389-432, 389; see also Federico Patetta, Le ordalie (Torino: Bocca, 1890); Robert Bartlett, Trial by Fire and Water: The Medieval Judicial Ordeal (Oxford: Clarendon press, 1986). 39 Bougard, ‘Le feu’, p. 407. 40 Bougard, ‘Le feu’, p. 408. 41 Bougard, ‘Le feu’, p. 410; see also Patetta, Le ordalie, pp. 186-190. 42 Lex Saxonum und Lex Thuringorum, 52, in MGH Fontes iuris 4, ed. by Claudius von Schwerin (Hannover-Leipzig: Hahnsche Buchhandlung, 1918), p. 65. 43 Capitularia regum Francorum, in MGH Capit. 1, ed. by Alfredus Boretius (Hannover: Hahnsche Buchhandlung, 1883), no. 39 (y. 803), c. 5, p. 113. 44 Die Konzilien der karolingischen Teilreiche 843-859, in MGH Conc. 3, ed. by Wilfried Hartmann (Hannover: Hahnsche Buchhandlung, 1984), no. 14, c. 24, p. 173. 45 Bougard, ‘Le feu’, p. 411.

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seeking to prove his loyalty and thus re-establish the truth. The event, then, would seem to match the circumstances described in the lex Thuringorum. However, the number of ploughshares does not coincide instead with nine, which is what the law requires; the ECC has twelve – the very number called for in an ecclesiastical context in Mainz in the case of the murder of a priest by a serf. As things stand, it is uncertain whether the variance in ploughshares is significant and whether one may associate a symbolic meaning to the figure nine in this context. 46 The distinguishing features of the passage, therefore, combine several textual elements that make it an original and – as far as we can tell – unique composition. But is it possible to find any other narratives with similar elements? The narrative element of ploughshares as a means to clear oneself of a charge of adultery also occurs in a passage from the twelfth century Vita Heinrici II imperatoris. 47 Chapter 8 centres on the choice of chastity made by the saintly emperor, who married Cunigunde yet only ever loved her as a sister.48 Malicious rumours started spreading that questioned the chastity of the imperial couple with the aim of sullying Henry II’s fame, given that that was the saint’s only weak spot.’49 To prove the unfoundedness of such rumours and restore her husband’s good name, Cunigunde chose to undergo the ordeal by white-hot ploughshares: calling upon God as her witness and judge, the woman declared that she had never had any ‘carnali commercio’ (‘sexual intercourse’) with her husband Henry and less still with other men. Having said this, she walked barefoot on the white-hot ploughshares with no pain or harm. In such a way, the author concludes, ‘God almighty preserved the chaste bond of love, confirmed their innocence, and used the shelter of humility on behalf of integrity’.50 In this case, then, the expedient of the ordeal by white-hot ploughshares does not reflect any actual legal procedure and is only partly related to the crime of adultery. In the hands of St Henry II’s hagiographer, its meaning is extended to include any form of sexual intercourse, including that between 46 Obviously, the number twelve has greater symbolic implications than the number nine from a Christian perspective. 47 Die Vita sancti Heinrici regis et confessoris und ihre Bearbeitung durch den Bamberg Diakon Adelbert, in MGH SS rer Germ 69, ed. by Marcus Stumpf (Hannover: Hahnsche Buchhandlung, 1999). 48 Die Vita sancti Heinrici, c. 8, pp. 274-275. 49 Die Vita sancti Heinrici, p. 275: ‘Invidus enim omnium bonorum diabolus, ubi thorum immaculatum sauciare non valuit, zelotipie livore fedare cogitavit et eius saltem famam ledere, cui vulnus corruptionis infligere non potuit’. 50 Die Vita sancti Heinrici, p. 276.

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husband and wife. It is interesting to note that in the hagiographical text this particular ordeal is exclusively associated with a woman’s actions, just as in the lex Thuringorum, although a precise reference to the number of ploughshares called for in the legal text – nine – is missing. Based on a juridical tradition that closely associated it with deviant female sexual behaviour, the ordeal by white-hot ploughshares came to be regarded as the best way, in the hagiographer’s account, to confirm Henry ’s good fame. The whole episode is used to strengthen the argument of the chastity of the royal couple – a virtue possibly attributed to them in the hagiographical account to explain the lack of any offspring. So, although significant points of convergence are to be found between this text and the one from the ECC, the most important narrative elements present in the latter are missing: the attraction/rivalry between the queen and a man close to the sovereign, and the woman’s treachery in seeking his death. Another literary passage comes closer to what we are looking for. This text concerns Otto III and is included in Jacobus da Varagine’s Legenda aurea.51 When describing the reign of Emperor Otto III in chapter 176 – devoted to the saintly Pope Pelagius I and to an overview of the history of mankind from the sixth to the thirteenth century52 – the author writes: After him [i.e. Otto II], Otto III seized the throne around the year 984. He was named the wonder of the world. As it is reported in a chronicle, he had a wife who wished to prostitute herself with a certain count. But, since the man did not dare to participate in that shameful felony, she, outraged, slandered the count to the emperor so fiercely that her husband commanded the count’s beheading without any trial. However, before the execution, the man asked his wife to show his innocence after his death through the ordeal by heated iron. The day came when the emperor took care of widows’ and orphans’ requests, and the widow too came with her husband’s head in her hands. Then she asked the emperor what the right punishment would be for he who has wrongfully killed someone else. The emperor answered that that man should be beheaded; the woman continued: “You are that man, who had ordered to kill my husband impelled by your wife, and to prove that I am telling the truth, I will endure the ordeal by heated iron”. 51 On Jacobus’ life and works see Carla Casagrande, Iacopo da Varazze, in Dizionario biografico degli Italiani, vol. 62 (Roma: Istituto dell’Enciclopedia Italiana, 2004), pp. 92-102. 52 See Jacques Le Goff, Il tempo sacro dell’uomo. La ‘Legenda aurea’ di Iacopo da Varazze (Roma-Bari: Laterza, 2012), pp. 177-184.

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Seeing this, the emperor was astonished and placed himself at the woman’s mercy to receive the punishment. Thanks to the mediation of bishops and nobles he obtained a deferment of ten days, then of eight, of seven and in the end of six. Thus, by examining the case, the emperor could see that the woman was speaking the truth, so he burned his wife at the stake. To redeem himself, he granted to the widow four castles located in the bishopric of Luni, which are called Dieci, Otto, Sette and Sei after the delays the emperor obtained.53

The above passage is really very similar to the one contained in the ECC, and striking points of agreement are to be found. In this case also the driving force is the lust of the emperor’s wife who, frustrated in her desire for sexual intercourse, through her calumny has the innocent count sentenced to death. To prove the emperor wrong, the widow agrees to undergo the ordeal by heated irons; having passed it, she is bestowed some castles as reparation for her husband’s fate. The passage differs from the ECC with regard to the kind of ordeal undergone: the woman does not walk on white-hot ploughshares, but clasps burning irons. Moreover, it is the count himself who, before his beheading, asks his wife to prove his innocence: the woman, then, is no longer an active subject but only acts upon her husband’s request. Finally, the widow directs an aggressive and direct accusation against the emperor himself who, while managing to save himself thanks to the intervention of elite members of the kingdom, does not hesitate to sentence his own wife to death. These are rather significant differences, and some details in the narrative may have been altered to suit the needs of Jacobus’ day. However, the differences we 53 ‘Huic successit Otto tertius circa annum domini dcccclxxxiiii. Iste cognominatur mirabilia mundi. Hic, ut in quadam chronicam dicitur, quandam uxorem habuit que cuidam comiti se prostituere voluit. Sed cum ille nollet tantum facinus perpetrare, illa indignata praedictum comitem apud imperatorem adeo infamavit quod eum imperator sine audientia decollari fecit. Qui antequam decollaretur rogavit uxorem suam ut iudicio candentis ferri post mortem eum comprobet innocentem. Adest dies, in quo Cesar pupillis et viduis se asserit iudicium facturum, affuit et vidua mariti caput secum suis portans in ulnis. Tunc quaesivit ab imperatore qua morte dignus esset qui iniuste aliquem occidisset. Qui cum privatione capitis dignuum eum assereret, illa intulit dicens: “Tu es ille vir qui maritum meum ad suggestium uxoris tuae innocenter occidi mandasti. Et ut me verum dicere comprobes, hoc candentis ferri iudicio comprababo”. Quod Caesar videns obstupuit et in manus femine se puniendum dedit. Interventu tamen pontificum et procerum inducias decem dierum, deinde octo, tertio septimo, quarto sex a vidua accepit. Tunc imperator causa examinata et veritate cognita uxorem vivam concremavit et pro redemptione sui quattuor castra vidue dedit. Que castra sunt in episcopatu Lunensis et vocantur ab induciis dierum x, viii, vii, vi.’ Iacobus da Varagine, Legenda aurea, vol. II, ed. by Giovanni P. Maggioni (Firenze: SISMEL 1998), pp. 1275-1276 (translation my own).

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find do not change the fact that Jacobus’ text largely matches that of the ECC, which would appear to be its model. Judging from the presence of literal quotations from the Bible and precise references to ninth century figures, in all likelihood the ECC passage was composed before that on Otto III. Nevertheless, the latter had a much wider resonance and circulation that the ECC narrative, as the Dutch painter Dieric Bouts included it among his representations of justice in the Louvain town hall in 1475.54 It is very difficult to identify the source from which Jacobus claims to have drawn his account;55 was it the second half of what is referred to nowadays as the ECC? Could be found a specific political issue in the shifting from Louis II to Otto III? And why the castles bestowed were now in episcopatu Lunensi?56 The present state of my research does not allow me to draw any further links between the two texts. However, I believe that it is possible to argue that, from the early decades of the tenth century onwards, in the aristocratic culture of northern Italy a narrative existed centred on a trial by fire and marked by three distinctive elements: a queen’s sexual misconduct, the ordeal by fire undergone by the woman, and a conflict between two heads of the Kingdom of Italy closely associated with the person of the King.

Competition for Power and Political Struggle Among the Proceres Regni: Supponids vs Hucpoldings A Queen and a Count Palatine of the Italian Kingdom Having examined the episode, its models and the individual narrative elements which it comprises, in the pages that follow I will def ine the 54 Wolfgang Stechow, Northern Renaissance Art, 1400-1600: Sources and Documents (Evanston: Northwestern University Press 1989), pp. 11-12. See also Paul Philippot, ‘La justice d’Othon de Thierry Bouts: Examen stylistique et technique’, Bulletin de l’Istitut royal du patrimoine Artistique, 1 (1958), pp. 31-48; Vanessa Paumen, Judged, Beheaded, Burned: Dieric Bouts’ the Justice of Emperor Otto III within the Context of Fifteenth-Century Punitive Practices (Austin: University of Texas 2002). 55 Jacobus chiefly based this chapter on Peter the Deacon’s Historia Langobardorum, Sigebert of Gembloux’s Chronicon, and the works by the Dominican friar Vincent of Beauvais: Le Goff, Il tempo, p. 179. A first, cursory investigation of these works suggests that none of them contains any element that might be of use for the present enquiry. 56 Nevertheless, a different reading included in the first nineteenth-century edition of the text – but not attested by the oldest surviving codices – gives Leviensi, which would place the bestowed castles in the area of the Exarchate, i.e. not too far from the Modena area mentioned in the ECC: Iacobus, Legenda, p. 1276; on the manuscript tradition, see Iacobus, Legenda, vol. I, p. xiv.

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historical and political context of the composition. In all likelihood, the political rivalry which the ECC passage reflects was played out on two separate stages: the royal palace and, more generally, Louis II’s court; and eastern Emilia, between the River Po, the Apennines and the Exarchate territories governed by the powerful Archbishop of Ravenna. The leading figures in the event just outlined were personally engaged in action on both stages. Angelberga’s kinship group, the Supponids, had reached Italy in the early ninth century and had played a key role in the Carolingian court in Italy from the very beginning.57 Their power was essentially based on the holding of prestigious offices in many areas of the Kingdom and on their direct ties of kinship with the Carolingian dynasty in Italy.58 Out of the four queens that ruled the Kingdom of Italy in the ninth century, no less than three belonged to this kinship group.59 Certainly, Angelberga was the most influential and powerful queen, both at court and in the Kingdom at large.60 The eponymous founder of the Hucpolding group in Italy, Hucpold, reached the peninsula during the military campaign of 848, when he was among the leaders of the transalpine division of Emperor Lothar’s army. During Louis II’s reign he was then appointed comes palatii by the emperor himself, given the condition of Unterkönig that Louis maintained until his father’s death.61 This appointment to the royal court propelled Hucpold to the very summit of the Kingdom. At the same time, however, this role prevented him from finding a place within an administrative district that would allow his kinship group to gain wealth and power.62 Hucpold and his family then chose to exploit the network of relations that their position at court offered them: his son Hubald and his daughter Berta established marital and patrimonial ties with the Adalbertings in Tuscany; extending the relations established by her father, Hucpold’s second daughter Engelrada 57 Hlawitschka, Franken, pp. 302-303. 58 Lazzari, ‘Una mamma carolingia’, p. 43 59 Lazzari, ‘Una mamma carolingia’, p. 41. 60 On Angelberga’s life see Bougard, ‘Engelberga’, pp. 668-676; Roberta Cimino, ‘Angelberga: il monastero di San Sisto di Piacenza e il corso del fiume Po’, in Il patrimonio delle regine: beni del fisco e politica regia fra IX e X secolo, ed. by Tiziana Lazzari, Reti Medievali Rivista, 13 (2) (2012), pp. 146-161. 61 See François Bougard, ‘La cour et le gouvernement de Louis II, 840-875’, in La royauté et les élites dans l’Europe carolingienne (début IXe siècle aux environs de 920), ed. by Regine Le Jan (Villeneuve d’Ascq: Centre d’histoire de l’Europe du Nord Ouest, 1998), pp. 250-251. 62 The same mechanism also occurred one century later with Count Palatine Obert I, the founder of the Obertenghi dynasty: Mario Nobili, ‘Alcune considerazioni circa l’estensione, la distribuzione territoriale e il significato del patrimonio degli Obertenghi (metà secolo X – inizio secolo XII)’, in Mario Nobili, Gli Obertenghi e altri saggi, (Perugia: CISAM 2006), pp. 255-266.

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acquired a prominent role in Ravenna and in the Exarchate through her wedding with Martin, a scion of the most illustrious ducal household in Ravenna.63 The two protagonists of the story, therefore, were among the most prominent figures at the royal court – along with King Louis II, of course. Let us now turn to consider the Emilian area I have been referring to. The iudiciaria Mutinensis and Boniface’s Career In the Carolingian period, eastern Emilia was never administratively subdivided into counties like other areas of the Kingdom.64 This picture reflects the situation which had taken shape at the end of the Lombard period:65 only fully incorporated within the Kingdom in the mid-eighth century, the territory in question chiefly comprised fiscal areas inhabited by essentially independent communities that answered to agents of the King and, from 752 onwards, to the monastery of Nonantola.66 More than any other city of Roman origin located along the Via Emilia, Modena no longer served as a hub, in all likelihood precisely because it had long been located on the frontier with territories still governed by the Exarchate.67 The Carolingians – except

63 On Hucpold’s career and political choices see Manarini, I due volti, pp. 37-46. On the specific issue of Engelrada’s marriage see also Tiziana Lazzari, ‘Tra Ravenna e regno: collaborazione e conflitti fra aristocrazie diverse’, in Rivaliser, coopérer: vivre en compétition dans les sociétés du haut Moyen Âge, ed. by Regine Le Jan (Turnhout: Brepols), pp. 167-175. 64 Pierpaolo Bonacini, Terre d’Emilia. Distretti pubblici, comunità locali e poteri signorili nell’esperienza di una regione italiana (secoli VIII-XII) (Bologna: CLUEB, 2001), pp. 110-111. Per il Bolognese see Tiziana Lazzari, ‘Comitato’ senza città. Bologna e l’aristocrazia del suo territorio (secoli IX-XI) (Torino: Paravia, 1998). 65 The Lombard conquest of the Emilian area and Exarchate was far from swift: the Lombards reached Bologna in 727, following King Liutprand’s campaigns; Ravenna was instead conquered by Aistulf in 751; see Gianluca Bottazzi, ‘Il monastero di Nonantola tra Modena e Bologna in età bizantino-longobarda’, Quaderni della Bassa modenese, 32 (1997), pp. 45-51. On the Modena area in the Lombard period, see Pierpaolo Bonacini, ‘Regno ed episcopato a Modena nei secoli VII e VIII. Il periodo longobardo’, Studi medievali, s. III, 33 (1) (1992), pp. 73-108. 66 In recent years, the topic of fiscal estates in early medieval regna and their political as well as economic use has attracted considerable attention on the part of European scholars: see the overview of the issue provided by Vito Loré, ‘Introduzione. Risorse materiali e competizione politica nell’alto medioevo’, in Acquérir, prélever, contrôler: les ressources en compétition (400-1100), ed. by Vito Loré, Geneviève Bürher-Thierry, Regine Le Jan (Turnhout: Brepols 2017), pp. 7-20. On royal policies on fiscal patrimonies in the Lombard Kingdom of Italy in the eighth century, see Tiziana Lazzari, ‘La tutela del patrimonio fiscale: pratiche di salvaguardia del pubblico e autorità regia nel regno longobardo del secolo VIII’, Reti Medievali Rivista, 18 (1) (2017), pp. 99-121. 67 Bonacini, ‘Regno ed episcopato’, p. 84.

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for Louis II, as we shall soon see – essentially maintained the existing powers without introducing any significant institutional innovations.68 An attempt was only made to circumscribe this extensive border area in the late ninth century, during the reign of Guido of Spoleto and his son Lambert.69 The political experiment consisted in placing under the authority of a single count the territoria civitatis of Reggio and Modena and of the western part of the Bologna area, which was still very much under the orbit of Ravenna. This was done to balance all the various forces at play in that frontier sector of the Kingdom: for a long time, Carolingian political power found its only counterpart in the Abbey of St Sylvester of Nonantola, whose abbot and monks were put in charge of many of the fiscal estates in the area. Louis II instead reinforced the political role of the Bishop of Modena, to the detriment of the monastic community of Nonantola. Guido of Spoleto and his son thus sought to redress the situation, on the one hand by confirming the patrimonies and rights of both abbey and bishopric and, on the other, by appointing a public official of comital rank that could play the role of a political leader at the local level, given the direct royal legitimation he enjoyed. Through the effective presence of a count, eastern Emilia thus came to fall within the classic pattern of Carolingian territorial organisation. In 898 a certain Count Guido, probably a cousin of King Lambert’s, is known to have been in charge of the administration of justice in the district.70 By the 920s the area had fallen under the control of Boniface of the Hucpoldings, who had been raised to the rank of Margrave by his brotherin-law Rudolf II, King of Italy from 922.71 Boniface was the grandson of Count Palatine Hucpold, the protagonist of the tale from the ECC. He must have based his power over the iudiciaria Mutinensis on the favour he enjoyed from the King and on his control over the fiscal estates in this area. In particular, royal diplomas record a competition for three major fiscal estates in the region: Cortenuova, in the Reggio plain near the Po; Campo Migliacio, on the hills near Modena; and Antognano, in the western plain of Bologna.72 68 On the Abbey of Nonantola and royal policies in Emilia during the Carolingian period see Edoardo Manarini, ‘Politiche regie e attivismo aristocratico. Il monastero di S. Silvestro di Nonantola’, Annali dell’Istituto Italiano per gli Studi Storici, 30 (2017), pp. 77-144; Edoardo Manarini, ‘Politiche regie e conflitti nell’Emilia orientale: la fisionomia del fisco regio, San Silvestro di Nonantola e le lotte per il regno dopo l’875’, Reti Medievali Rivista, 20 (1) (2019), p. 121-156. 69 Lazzari, ‘La creazione’, pp. 105-107. 70 I Placiti del ‘Regnum Italiae’, vol. I, ed. by Cesare Manaresi (Roma: ISIME, 1955), no. 106, pp. 385-396; for an analysis of the judicial assembly and its context, see Lazzari, ‘La creazione’, pp. 102-103. 71 See Manarini, I due volti, pp. 62-63. 72 See Manarini, ‘A Marriage’.

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Possession of these strategic centres and political control of the area were not always in the hands of the Hucpoldings: whereas the position of Hubald, Hucpold’s son and a man loyal to the Guidonids, was uncertain,73 his son Boniface was strongly backed by Rudolf II. Before Rudolf became King of Italy, Boniface married his daughter Waldrada and became his champion, a ‘comes potentissimus’ (‘a very powerful count’) and ‘vir tam callidus quam audax’ (‘a man clever as well as brave’), to quote Liutprand of Cremona.74 The bishop also informs us that Boniface’s intervention was crucial to ensure the victory which Rudolf II earned over his opponent Berengar I, thereby gaining control over much of the Kingdom of Italy.75 The Battle of Fiorenzuola marked a turning point in Boniface’s career: his brother-in-law granted him the title of marchio and probably assigned him, along with control over the three Emilian courts, the territorial district that the Guidonids had created not long before.76 Compared to Campo Migliacio and Cortenuova, the estate of Antognano is better documented, because we are explicitly informed that Boniface owned this court as a beneficium in his lifetime. Although in 961 Otto I assigned it to one Erolfus, a canon from Arezzo, for a long time Boniface’s descendants continued to hold sway over the court and many of its dependencies.77 However, Boniface did not remain at the head of the Kingdom for long after the short reign of Rudolf II. From as early as 926 Hugh of Provence claimed to be the legitimate King of Italy. The situation became stabilised in the early 930s, when Rudolf struck an agreement with Hugh, who entrusted the Kingdom of Italy to him once and for all. Thus, the new King of Italy deprived Boniface of most of his authority over the Emilian area, in favour of the Supponid Suppo IV.78 The Supponinds as Antagonists in Emilia It is now necessary to say a few words on the political trajectory of the Supponids in these years. In the late ninth and early tenth century this kinship 73 On Hubald see Manarini, I due volti, pp. 49-57. 74 Liudprand of Cremona, Antapodosis, in Liudprandi Cremonensi Opera omnia, ed. by Paolo Chiesa (Turnhout: Brepols, 1998), II. 21, p. 61. 75 Liudprand, Antapodosis, p. 61. See Manarini, I due volti, pp. 59-60. 76 See Manarini, ‘A Marriage’. 77 Conradi I. Heinrici I. et Ottonis Diplomata, in MGH Dipl. Reg. Germ. 1, ed. by Theodor Sickel (Hannover: Hahnsche Buchhandlung, 1879-1884), no. 253, pp. 361-362; see Manarini, I due volti, pp. 205-207. 78 Manarini, I due volti, pp. 63-64. In general, King Hugh’s political strategy is described in Atto of Vercelli’s Perpendiculum: see Giacomo Vignodelli, Il filo a piombo. Il Perpendiculum di Attone di Vercelli e la storia politica del regno italico, (Spoleto: CISAM 2012), pp. 207-214.

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group had experienced a progressive political decline, culminating with the assassination – possibly by poisoning – of Queen Bertilla, the daughter of Suppo II and wife of King Berengar I, in 912/913.79 This tragedy led to the loss of the hegemony that the Supponids had gained in various areas of northern Italy. However, this did not prevent the last representatives of the group from regaining a prominent position in the Modena area, thanks to the changes imposed by King Hugh’s new regime. But let us proceed in order. In the wake of Louis II’s death, Angelberga faced a moment of considerable difficulty and uncertainty, owing to the political vying for the succession to her husband’s throne within the Carolingian household, since her marriage with Louis had not produced any male heirs.80 In the early 880s Angelberga was even exiled to a French monastery by Charles the Fat.81 Upon the latter’s death, the Supponids supported Berengar I against Guy of Spoleto’s faction.82 In 889 Adalgis II, Wifred II and Boso, the sons of Suppo II and nephews of Angelberga, took part in the Battle of Trebbia, near Piacenza, which pitted Berengar’s faction against the Guidonids. One slightly later pro-Berengar source, the Gesta Berengarii imperatoris, describes them as ‘tria fulmina belli Supponide’ (‘the three lightning bolts of war sons of Suppo’) in charge of a unit of 1,500 knights,83 who must have constituted the backbone of Berengar’s army. Even though the battle had an uncertain outcome, it was the Guidonid faction that ultimately proved victorious and gained control over much of the Kingdom.84 With Berengar’s defeat, his influence became limited to the March of Friuli. The Guidonids thus gained many positions previously 79 On Bertilla see Cristina Sereno, ‘Bertilla e Berta: il ruolo di Santa Giulia di Brescia e di San Sisto di Piacenza nel regno di Berengario I’, in Il patrimonio delle regine, pp. 188-189. 80 For an outline of the political situation, see Simon MacLean, ‘“After His Death a Great Tribulation Came to Italy…”: Dynastic Politics and Aristocratic Factions after the Death of Louis II, c. 870-c. 890’, Millennium – Jahrbuch, 4 (2007), pp. 239-260. 81 Bougard, ‘Engelberga’, p. 673. 82 Paolo Cammarosano, Nobili e re. L’Italia politica dell’alto medioevo (Roma-Bari: Laterza, 2009), p. 209. 83 Gesta Berengarii imperatoris, in MGH Poetae 4, vol. 1, ed. by Paul de Winterfeld (Berlino: Weidmann, 1809), pp. 374-375; on this source see now Giuseppe Albertoni, ‘La fine dell’impero carolingio e i conflitti per il regno italico nei Gesta Berengarii’, in The Collapse of the Early Medieval European Kingdoms (8th-9th centuries), ed. by Iñaki Martín Viso, Reti Medievali Rivista, 17 (2) (2016), pp. 281-299; and also Frédéric Duplessis, ‘Les sources des glosses des Gesta Berengarii et la culture du poète anonyme’, Aevum, 89 (2) (2015), pp. 205-263. 84 Tommaso di Carpegna Falconieri, ‘Guido, conte marchese di Camerino, duca marchese di Spoleto, re d’Italia, imperatore’, in Dizionario biografico degli Italiani, vol. 61 (Roma: Istituto dell’Enciclopedia Italiana, 2004), p. 358.

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acquired by Suppo II in Piedmont and Emilia,85 bringing an end to any prospect of establishing a Supponid march.86 Even the Emilian stronghold between Piacenza and Parma, a key location between the areas governed by Guy and Berengar, was lost: in Parma, which since 860 had been under the control of Bishop Wibod, who supported Guy’s faction, comital rank was assigned to Radaldus, a member of the Guidonid faction;87 in Piacenza titular Count Adalgis II, who had sought refuge at Berengar’s court in Verona, was replaced by men loyal to Guy – first one Ildegerius, whose name is attested in 890, and then Sigefredus, attested from 892 to 904.88 Berengar I’s return also marked the restoration of the Supponids to the position of power they had enjoyed during the previous decade, if only for a short time: Wifred II regained the comitatus of Piacenza (905912), while also serving as the King’s consiliarius at court; his brother Ardingus was elected Bishop of Brescia in 901 and in 903 was appointed royal arch-counsellor, thereby restoring the leading position at court that the Supponids had held under Louis II.89 As far as the relations between the kinship group and royal power are concerned, the most important f igure is Queen Bertilla, whose proximity to Berengar was chiefly expressed through her intercession in royal charters and reached its peak in 905.90 In 915, Berengar I obtained the much-coveted title of Emperor. The reason for his success was probably a change in the traditional pattern of political alliances between the leading marchional kinship groups of the Kingdom,91 entailing the downfall of Bertilla and her replacement with a Byzantine woman named Anna.92 The removal of the Supponid queen coincided with the almost complete banishment from the court of her kinship group, which – in the person of her brother Boso – was guilty, among other things, of having hatched a rebellion against the King in 85 See Hlawitschka, Franken, pp. 269-271. 86 Bougard, ‘Les Supponides’, p. 395. 87 On Bishop Wibod see Lazzari, ‘Tra Ravenna e regno’; on Radaldus see Hlawitschka, Franken, pp. 247-248. 88 Bougard, ‘Les Supponides’, p. 395; François Bougard, ‘Entre Gandolfingi et Obertenghi: les comtes de Plaisance aux Xe et XIe siècles’, Mélanges de l’École française de Rome – Moyen Âge, 101 (1) (1989), pp. 17-18. 89 Bougard, ‘Les Supponides’, pp. 396-397. 90 See Barbara H. Rosenwein, ‘The Family Politics of Berengar I, King of Italy (888-924)’, Speculum, 71 (1996), pp. 257-258. 91 Tiziana Lazzari, ‘Le donne del regno italico’, in L’eredità culturale di Gina Fasoli, ed. by Francesca Bocchi, Gian Maria Varanini (Roma: ISIME, 2008), pp. 213-216. 92 Girolamo Arnaldi, Bertilla, in Dizionario biografico degli Italiani, vol. 9 (Roma: Istituto dell’Enciclopedia Italiana, 1967), p. 529.

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913.93 Only Bishop Ardingus remained at the royal court as arch-counsellor until his death in 922. The Supponids’ fall into disgrace with King Berengar I and their removal from public off ice in the Emilia area, however, did not amount to their complete quitting of the f ield. In that area of the Kingdom, the kinship group was able to find a final ‘channel for political promotion’:94 probably thanks to the estates they still owned in that sector,95 from as early as 931 Suppo IV was able to serve as the Count of Modena; probably in 934,96 the Supponid Ardingus, possibly the uncle of Count Suppo IV, was elected bishop of the same city;97 f inally, the Abbess of St Sixtus of Piacenza in these years was Berta, the daughter of Berengar and Bertilla – hence, a Supponid on her mother’s side – who owned many of the fiscal estates along the Po River and in the Po Valley, including those of Campo Migliacio and Cortenuova, which – as already noted – represented a powerhouse for anyone wishing to control the Kingdom’s frontier to the south of the Po. Louis II’s Fiscal Policy Towards Queen Angelberga This leads us back to the three fiscal estates that must have constituted the foundation of the Hucpolding’s power in the iudiciaria Mutinensis. The charter issued by Rudolf II in favour of St Sixtus bears witness to a competition for these fiscal estates: Tiziana Lazzari has suggested we interpret the absence of the two estates of Campo Migliacio and Cortenuova in the list of properties bestowed upon the abbey as testifying to the King’s will to grant them to his follower Boniface, who had also acted as an intercessor in relation to the charter.98 Following this suggestion, elsewhere I have sought to prove that the granting of these estates to Boniface, along with that of Antognano, was crucial for the development of his power at a local level.99 Initially this bestowal provided the material basis for the Hucpolding to act as the actual marchio of the extensive iudiciaria Mutinensis, if only for a short time; later, it provided a significant economic foundation for the

93 Bougard, ‘Les Supponides’, p. 397. 94 Bonacini, Terre d’Emilia, p. 121. 95 Bonacini, Terre d’Emilia, p. 121. 96 Hlawitschka, Franken, p. 304. 97 Bonacini, Terre d’Emilia, p. 121. 98 Tiziana Lazzari, ‘Dotari e beni fiscali’, in Il patrimonio delle regine, p. 134. 99 Manarini, ‘A Marriage’.

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development of the seigneurial power of his descendants, who continued to own the estate of Antognano.100 Previously, the courts in question had been added to the patrimony of the monastery of St Sixtus, along with many others, at the time of its foundation in 877. In that year, Angelberga founded the abbey and granted all the fiscal estates she had received from her husband Louis over the years:101 among these, Campo Migliacio and Cortenuova were the object of the queen’s dotalicium in 860, the document officially sanctioning the marital union of the couple and the raising of the Supponid Angelberga to the rank of consors regni.102 In accordance with the Carolingian practice of bestowing estates upon queens,103 on various occasions between 860 and 870 Louis II assigned Angelberga many fiscal estates.104 The sovereign’s primary aim must have been to strengthen his consort’s patrimony and, by extension, her kinship group, which was already active across a broad swathe of the Kingdom of Italy. Secondly, the concentration of fiscal estates in a single personal patrimony was intended to make it easier for the royal couple to control the main communication routes of the Kingdom:105 a substantial portion of these estates were located along the course of the River Po, in the environs of Pavia, Piacenza, Cremona and Mantova, and along its tributaries, the 100 Manarini, I due volti, p. 205. 101 Le carte cremonesi dei secoli VIII-XII, vol. I, ed. by Ettore Falconi (Cremona: 1979), no. 20, pp. 49-58. On the symbolic and political meanings of the foundation, see Cristina La Rocca, ‘Monachesimo femminile e poteri delle regine tra VII e IX secolo’, in Il monachesimo italiano dall’età longobarda all’età ottoniana (secc. VIII-X), ed. by Giovanni Spinelli (Cesena: Badia di Santa Maria del Monte, 2006), pp. 136-142. On the early development of the monastery, see Cristina La Rocca, ‘Angelberga, Louis’s II Wife, and Her Will (877)’, in Ego Trouble: Authors and their Identities in the Early Middle Ages, ed. by Richard Corradini (Wien: Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften, 2010), pp. 221-26; see also Simon MacLean, ‘Queenship, Nunneries and Royal Widowhood in Carolingian Europe’, Past and Present, 178 (2003), pp. 28-32. 102 Ludovici II. Diplomata, in MGH Diplom. Kar. 4, ed. by Konrad Wanner (München: MGH, 1994), no. 30, pp. 125-127. On the development of the concept of consors regni see Paolo Delogu, ‘“Consors regni” un problema carolingio’, Bullettino dell’Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo e Archivio Muratoriano, 76 (1964), pp. 47-98. 103 See Regine Le Jan, ‘Douaire et pouvoirs des reines en Francie et en Germanie (VIe-Xe siècle)’, in Dots et douaires dans le haut Moyen Âge, ed. by François Bougard, Laurent Feller, Regine Le Jan (Rome: École française de Rome, 2002), p. 459. 104 After the dotalicium, Louis II benefitted his consort on at least five other occasions: Ludovici II. Diplomata, no. 40, pp. 146-147 (864 XI 3); Parma II, in Italy 65, Chartae Latinae Antiquiores, vol. 93, ed. by Cristina Mantegna (Dietikon-Zürich: Urs Graf, 2014), no. 9, pp. 48-51 (shortly after 866 V 17); no. 10, pp. 52-57 (866 VII 4); no. 11, pp. 58-63 (868 IV 28); no. 13, pp. 68-71 (869 V 25). 105 Cimino, ‘Angelberga’, p. 142.

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Tanaro, Ticino, Adda and Trebbia.106 In such a way, Louis could exploit the intermediate relational networks that the Supponid kinship group could rely on at a local level to manage certain fiscal estates directly, without the mediation of the web of officials active in the various districts of the Kingdom. Louis chose to assign his wife almost exclusive control over trade along the Po River in the areas of Reggio and Modena, through her control of the royal estates along the river and the collection of taxes from them. In addition to these estates – Guastalla, Luzzara, Pegognaga, Litoria Paludania and Villula107 – Angelberga also received some salt mines in the Comacchio area. In the light of the picture just outlined, the first two estates granted to Angelberga through the dotalicium acquire an important new meaning, as they were located in the Emilian hinterland: Cortenuova must have been located near present-day Novellara, i.e. not on the banks of the main waterway but further to the south, at the centre of the river network of the lower valley, between the urban centre of Reggio and the Po;108 the estate of Campo Migliacio instead represents a more eccentric choice within the context of the fiscal complex assigned to the queen. The royal estate of Campo Migliacio was in the foothills to the south of Modena, near presentday Fiorano,109 where the River Secchia starts cutting its course through the plain. This choice, moreover, stood in sharp contrast to the royal policy adopted until then, whereby extensive fiscal estates in the Modena area had been granted to the Abbot of Nonantola. The actual date of the drafting of the document, the year 860,110 is highly revealing: the last certain record we have of Hucpold dates from March of the same year, when he was engaged in the administration of justice on

106 See the overview in Cimino, ‘Angelberga’, pp. 146-149. 107 Villula corresponds to present-day Valverde, near Quistello in the province of Mantua: Cimino, ‘Angelberga’, p. 152; Litoria Paludania too must have been located in the Mantua area: Cimino, ‘Angelberga’, p. 149. On Guastalla see Tiziana Lazzari, ‘Matilde e Guastalla’, in 1106: il Concilio di Guastalla e il mondo di Pasquale II, ed. by Glauco M. Cantarella, Daniela Romagnoli (Alessandria: Edizioni dell’Orso, 2006), pp. 83-98; on Pegognaga see Bonacini, Terre d’Emilia, pp. 235-57. 108 See Mauro Calzolari, ‘Navigazione interna, porti e navi nella pianura reggiana e modenese (secoli IX-XII)’, in Viabilità antica e medievale nel territorio modenese e reggiano. Contributi di studio (Modena: Aedes muratoriana, 1983), pp. 102-111. 109 This toponym may be identified with present-day Ca’ Cameazzo: Pieropaolo Bonacini, ‘La curtis di Campo Miliacio’, in Fiorano e la valle del torrente Spezzano. Archeologia di un territorio, ed. by Donato Labate (Firenze: All’insegna del giglio, 2006), p. 81. 110 Bougard, ‘Engelberga’, pp. 668-669.

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Louis’s behalf in central Italy.111 Can we assume that Hucpold and Angelberga were already vying for those fiscal goods that were to become the bone of contention between their biological descendants and spiritual heirs? May this conflict have inspired the sexual metaphor used by the author of the passage from the ECC? I cannot give a clear-cut answer to these questions, but the possibility is certainly an intriguing one. ‘Any Press Is Good Press’ Angelberga’s role and power gave rise to opposition from some of the proceres of Louis II’s kingdom. According to François Bougard, these contrasts were due to the presence of the Queen at all institutional levels: 112 in the last years of her husband’s reign, after their imprisonment at Benevento in 871,113 Angelberga presided over a general assembly of the Kingdom; despatched missi with judicial roles; personally presided over a placitum; and, finally, represented the Emperor at Capua during his absence between 873 and 874.114 Exasperated by Angelberga’s active participation in her husband’s power, and by her notion that the consortium entailed considerable institutional responsibilities, some magnates – according to the Annales Bertiniani – suggested that the woman be removed from power on account of her insolence, asking Louis II to marry the daughter of the Count of Siena, Winighis, in her place.115 Simon MacLean has instead laid stress on the problem of Louis’ succession since his marriage with Angelberga had produced no male heir. It is for this reason that some of the magnates sought to convince the Emperor to divorce his wife and remarry. The attempt was probably coordinated by Pope John VIII, who had sided with a large group of proceres against the Eastern faction, who looked to Louis the German as a possible successor.116 After the events surrounding the divorce of Lothar II, Louis’ brother, in the previous decade, the marital problems of the Carolingian dynasty had 111 I placiti, no. 65, pp. 234-236; Manarini, I due volti, pp. 42-43. 112 Bougard, ‘La cour’, p. 263. 113 See François Bougard, ‘Ludovico II, re d’Italia, imperatore’, in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani, vol. 66 (Roma: Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana, 2007), p. 392. 114 See Bougard, ‘Engelberga’, pp. 670-671. 115 Annales Bertiniani, ed. by Georg Waitz, in MGH SS rer. Germ. 5 (Hannover: Hahnsche Buchhandlung, 1883), y. 872, p. 120. On Winighis of the Berardenghi kinship group see Paolo Cammarosano, La famiglia dei Berardenghi. Contributo alla storia della società senese nei secoli XI-XIII (Spoleto: CISAM, 1974), pp. 65-70. 116 MacLean, ‘After His Death’, p. 247.

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become a real political issue for the Empire as a whole. Angelberga had to fight to make sure that the circumstances at the time of her husband’s death would be as favourable as possible for her and her daughters.117 This explains her political activism – at times scarcely tolerated by Louis II himself – with regard to both the Kingdom and the two leading pretenders to the throne, Charles the Bald and Louis the German.118 It was to further strengthen Angelberga’s position as the King’s wife and to lend juridical legitimacy to her offspring that the date of the dotalicium was altered in favour of the Queen: the datatio ‘anno imperii XI, indictione VIIII’, corresponding to the year 860, was amended to ‘a. imp. II, ind. XIIII’, which is to say the year 851 – probably the date of birth of Angelberga’s elder daughter Gisla.119 This ruse, however, probably did not escape the attention of the political and cultural groups at the head of the Kingdom. In a Milanese manuscript from the second half of the ninth century,120 at the margin of a Servius passage on the royal practice of nominating sons born out of wedlock as heirs, we find the words de Angelberga.121 Even more interesting for the sake of the present enquiry is a second marginal note contained in the same manuscript. This time the words ‘Angelberga regina’ are scribbled on the margins of the second satire from Book I of Horace’s Satires, where the poet, who has just offered a portrait of the perfect adulteress, describes a husband bursting upon the scene of an illicit love affair: [B]ut not to the point of appearing with a paler skin than the one the nature has given her. [Angelberga regina] She, when her left hip is under 117 On Lothar II’s divorce case see Karl J. Heidecker, The Divorce of Lothar II: Christian Marriage and Political Power in the Carolingian World (Ithaca-London: Cornell University Press, 2010). 118 Bougard, ‘La cour’, p. 263, n. 76. 119 Bougard, ‘Engelberga’, p. 668; the question of the datation is examined in Gudila von Pölnitz Kehr, ‘Kaiserin Angilberga. Ein Exkurs zur Diplomatik Kaiser Ludwig II. von Italien’, Historisches Jahrbuch, 60 (1940), pp. 429-440; on Gisla see Lazzari, ‘Una mamma carolingia’, pp. 51-54. 120 On the manuscript see Giorgia Vocino, ‘A peregrinus’s vademecum: Bern 363 and the ‘Circle of Sedulius Scottus’, in The Annotated Book: Early Medieval Practices of Reading and Writing, ed. by Mariken Teeuwen, Irene van Renswoude (Turnhout: Brepols, 2017), pp. 87-123. – needs to be included in the bibliography 121 Berne, Bürgerbibliothek, cod. 363, f. 99r. The Servius passage, drawn from Book III of his Commentarii in Vergilii Aeneidos libros, runs as follows: ‘consuetudinis regiae fuit, ut legitimam uxorem non habentes aliquam licet captivam pro legitima haberent, adeo ut liberi ex ipsa nati succederent’. On this codex see Claudia Villa, Lectura Terentii. vol. I: Da Ildemaro a Francesco Petrarca (Padova: Antenore, 1984), pp. 43-65; both passages are quoted on pp. 59-61; see also Simona Gavinelli, ‘Per un’enciclopedia carolingia (Codice bernese 363)’, in Italia medioevale e umanistica, vol. XXVI, ed. by Giuseppe Billanovich, Augusto Campana, Carlo Dionisotti, Mirella Ferrari, Paolo Sambin (Padova: Editrice Antenore 1983), pp. 1-25.

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my right hip, is an Illa, an Egeria to me; I give her the name I wish and have nothing to be afraid of. As I am there copulating, her husband comes back hastily from the countryside, the door broken down, the dog barking; shaken by a violent uproar, the house resounds everywhere with a great noise; the woman, deathly pale, gets up from the bed, her accomplice cries out loud “Poor me!”; she fears for her legs, the adulterer, caught in the act, for her dowry, and I for myself.122

The accusation that the glossarist directs at Angelberga is quite clear and has to do with her sexual conduct: an argument that, judging from the origin of the codex, must have been circulating among the Queen’s political opponents in northern Italy. Starting with the case of Judith, Louis the Pious’ second wife,123 attacking the king’s wife, particularly in terms of her private conduct and sexual mores, became a powerful and common means of political denigration used to undermine royal power 124 – a practice that only reinforced the established contempt shown for women in power in general, ever since the Roman age.125 In Angelberga’s case, however, sexual denigration was not an argument shared by all those who did not see her leading role within the Kingdom in a good light. Andrew of Bergamo, who believed she was incapable of ruling without the direct control of her husband, nonetheless did not question the origin of her power, which he described as legitimate.126 Even the Chronicon Salernitanum, a work from the second half of the tenth century, does not refer to any sexual matters in its negative portrayal of the Queen: Angelberga is described as a bad queen on account of her haughty and arrogant behaviour towards Prince Adelchis and the elite of Benevento, who thus chose to rise up against the royal couple.127 122 ‘[N]ec magis alba velit quam dat natura videri. [Angelberga]/[regina] Haec ubi supposuit dextro corpus mihi levo/Illa et Egeria est; do nomen quodlibet illi/Nec vereor, ne, dum futuo, vir rure recurrat/ianua frangatur, canis latret, undique magno/pulsa domus strepitu ‹r›esonet, tue pallida lecto/desiliat mulier, miseram se conscia clamet/cruribus haec metuat, doti deprensa, egomet mi/.’ Bern, Bürgerbibliothek, cod. 363, f. 186r. This passage corresponds, with some dissimilarities, to Horace, Satires, I.2, vv. 124-131 (translation my own). 123 See Mayke De Jong, ‘Bride Shows Revisited: Praise, Slander and Exegesis in the Reign of Empress Judith’, in Gender in the Early Medieval World: East and West, 300-900, ed. by Leslie Brubaker, Julia M.H. Smith, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press: 2004), pp. 257-277. 124 La Rocca, ‘Monachesimo femminile’, p. 141. 125 Lazzari, Le donne, pp. 169-170. 126 Roberta Cimino, Italian Queens in the Ninth and Tenth Century (University of St Andrews: PhD thesis, 2013), pp. 39-40. 127 Cimino, Italian Queens, pp. 40-42.

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It may be argued, then, that the passage from the ECC was created by choosing to redevelop precisely the most slanderous and disparaging elements pertaining to the Queen’s sexual conduct that were available to her political opponents. Clearly, what lies at the basis of the whole episode is the intention to strip Angelberga of any legitimacy, to the benefit of the Hucpoldings and their patrimonial claims. These arguments must have started circulating late in Louis II’s reign. They must have been amplified even further after 875, which is to say at the most delicate moment for the Queen, who was not only threatened with political isolation, but witnessed genuine acts of pillaging and spoliation of her patrimony and that of St Sixtus at the hands of various personalities of the Kingdom, both lay and ecclesiastical.128 Although it is impossible to precisely identify those responsible for these acts, as already noted, patrimonial disputes between the abbey and the Hucpoldings also emerged in a later period. The decades at the turn of tenth century, therefore, strike me as the most likely date for the passage in question. This text would also seem to reflect the memories and self-awareness of the Hucpolding group: it is reasonable to suppose that within the years of the second and third Hucpolding generation, namely the decades at the turn of the tenth century – but not much beyond it – the memory of their forefather Hucpold, of the family’s properties in Alemannia and of the public offices held in Konstanz129 – that is, before the family’s move to Italy – was still alive in the minds of the Hucpoldings themselves.

St Benedict in Adili: Territorial Coordinates for a Hypothesis of Localisation The narrative sequence we have analysed f its within a composite and apparently unrelated text which is the outcome of the historical memory of the monks of Montecassino. Although the manuscript is a late one, the details in the account are so numerous and precise that the text must certainly refer to Carolingian Italy. By focusing on a struggle among women, the passage portrays the clash between the most prominent representatives 128 We know this from some letters by Pope John VIII: Iohannis VIII papae registrum, ed. by Erich Caspar, in MGH Epistolae 7, vol. V (Berlin: Weidmann, 1928), no. 173, pp. 139-140; no. 181, pp. 145-146; no. 238, p. 210; no. 244, pp. 213-214. See Bougard, ‘Engelberga’, p. 673. 129 No further elements have emerged from a consultation of Michael Borgolte, Die Grafen Alamanniens in merowingischer und karolingischer Zeit. Eine Prosopographie (Sigmaringen: Jan Thorbecke, 1986).

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of two leading kinship groups in the Kingdom in the late ninth and early tenth century. The documentary sources confirm the idea that the dispute concerned the hegemony over the iudiciaria Mutinensis: a district shaped in those very years to establish the King of Italy’s control over the extensive area on the border with the Exarchate. Here we find a reference to what may have been the place where the text was first conceived, before becoming part of the historical memory of the Montecassino Abbey: a few kilometres north of the Via Emilia, between Modena and Bologna, stood the monastery of St Benedict in Adili. This monastery was located only a short distance away from St Sylvester of Nonantola and had been founded by a member of the group of the so-called Dukes of Persiceta, again in the mid-eighth century. In all likelihood, it was connected to the fiscal estate located a few kilometres away, near present-day Sant’Agata Bolognese.130 Within the framework of the geography of the area, which is to say the easternmost section of the iudiciaria Mutinensis, this was no doubt an important site and one out of scale compared with the villages nearby. The proximity of the monastery to the only fiscal estate known in that area of the plain around Bologna, the aforementioned estate of Antognano, may prove that the site of Sant’Agata was a dependency of the caput of the curtis or even part of it. Even if it is only weakly attested in our sources, the patrimonial action exercised by one of Hucpold’s daughters, Berta, in favour of the monastery of St Benedict would seem to offer some confirmation of this,131 given that Berta’s nephew Boniface controlled the estate in the tenth century. When, in the late ninth century, the Hucpoldings had patrimonial connections with this monastery, the latter was under the jurisdiction of the Montecassino Abbey, and possibly had been for the past decade.132 Moreover, around 898 Ragemprand assigned libellario nomine the village and the monastery of Adili to Queen Ageltrude, Guy of Spoleto’s widow and Lambert’s mother.133 As in the case of Angelberga and St Sixtus, the direct relationship with the Queen made it possible to protect the monastery and 130 See the recent findings based on archaeological excavations in Un villaggio nella pianura. Ricerche archeologiche in un insediamento medievale del territorio di Sant’Agata Bolognese, ed. by Sauro Gelichi, Mauro Librenti, Marco Marchesini (Firenze: All’insegna del giglio, 2014). 131 See Manarini, I due volti, p. 201. 132 According to the breviarium by a certain prepositus John, which is included in Peter the Deacon’s registrum, the monastery of Adili was donated to Montecassino at the time of Abbot Angelarius (883-889): Registrum Petri Diaconi, vol. III, ed. by Jean-Marie Martin (Roma: École française de Rome, 2016), p. 1541, no. 566. 133 Chronica monasterii Casinensis, ed. by Hartmut Hoffmann, in MGH SS 34 (Hannover: Hahnsche Buchhandlung, 1980), p. 128.

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establish it as a potential new administrative centre, directly governed by the Guidonid faction. The line in the text of the ECC describing how the widow Andaberta ‘fearing the wrath of the emperor, sought refuge with Father Benedict’ may be a figurative reference to the holy walls of the monastery and therefore to the links between this institution and the relatives of the Count Palatine. As the later references to the presence of Pope Benedict III (855-858) have nothing to do with the episode described, it may even be supposed that when the copyist came across a reference to Father Benedict, he assumed it was an allusion to Pope Benedict and chose to add it even later on, even though this figure did not play any part in subsequent developments. St Benedict in Adili must have been a key place for the Hucpoldings, who succeeded in establishing their hegemony in the area surrounding the monastery, despite opposition from the Supponids. We may suppose, therefore, that the fictional account was developed in the monastery area and later inserted as a marginal note by the monks themselves in a rather peculiar hagiographic and historiographical text on the mother Abbey of Montecassino. From this perspective, the narrative may be seen to suggest that the Adili monastery played an important role in shaping the memory of the Hucpolding kinship group, effectively providing a Hucpolding version of the political turnover ushered in by the imperial couple after 860. In other words, what the narrative displays is the representation of the first Hucpoldings active within the Kingdom developed by later descendants. Moreover, they intended to stress particular elements of self-awareness that were still prominent in the eleventh century, such as a strong Königsnähe and a peculiar Leitname.134 The ultimate aim of the narrative, then, was to strongly legitimise Hucpolding dynastic rule over a strategic area at the fringes of the Kingdom.

Bibliography Manuscripts Bern, Bürgerbibliothek, cod. 363 Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana (BAV), cod. Chig. I.VI.226 Biblioteca Universitaria di Padova (BUP), ms. 1208 Biblioteca Universitaria di Padova (BUP), ms. 1607 134 See Manarini, I due volti, pp. 255-265.

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Brubaker, Leslie, Smith, Julia M.H. (eds,), Gender in the Early Medieval World. East and West, 300-900 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press: 2004). Cammarosano, Paolo, La famiglia dei Berardenghi. Contributo alla storia della società senese nei secoli XI-XIII (Spoleto: CISAM, 1974). Cammarosano, Paolo, Nobili e re. L’Italia politica dell’alto medioevo (Roma: Laterza, 2009). Cantarella, Glauco M., Romagnoli Daniela (eds.), 1106: il Concilio di Guastalla e il mondo di Pasquale II, (Alessandria: Edizioni dell’Orso, 2006). Carpegna Falconieri di, Tommaso, ‘Guido, conte marchese di Camerino, duca marchese di Spoleto, re d’Italia, imperatore’, in DBI 61 (Roma: Istituto dell’Enciclopedia Italiana, 2004), pp. 354-361. Casagrande, Carla, Iacopo da Varazze, in DBI 62 (Roma: Istituto dell’Enciclopedia Italiana, 2004), pp. 92-102. Caspar, Erich, Petrus diaconus und die Monte Cassiner Fälschungen. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte des Italienischen Geistesleben in Mittelalter (Berlin: Springer, 1909). Chiese locali e chiese regionali nell’alto medioevo (Spoleto: CISAM, 2014). Cimino, Roberta, Italian Queens in the Ninth and Tenth Century (University of St Andrews: unpublished PhD thesis, 2013). Corradini, Richard (ed.), Ego Trouble: Authors and their Identities in the Early Middle Ages (Wien: Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften, 2010). Dell’Omo, Mariano, ‘Le tre redazioni dell’‘Autobiograf ia’ di Pietro Diacono di Montecassino’, in Gobbi, Domenico (ed.), Florentissima Proles Ecclesiae (Trento: Civis, 1996), pp. 145-231. Dell’Omo, Mariano, Marazzi, Federico, Simonelli, Fabio, Crova, Cesare, (eds.), Sodalitas. Studi in memoria di Don Faustino Avagliano (Montecassino: Pubblicazioni Cassinesi, 2016). Delogu, Paolo, ‘Consors regni’ un problema carolingio’, Bullettino dell’Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo e Archivio Muratoriano, 76 (1964), pp. 47-98. Duplessis, Frédéric, ‘Les sources des glosses des Gesta Berengarii et la culture du poète anonyme’, Aevum, 89 (2) (2015), pp. 205-263. Falconi, Ettore (ed.), Le carte cremonesi dei secoli VIII-XII, vol. I (Cremona: 1979). Galdi, Amalia, ‘S. Benedetto tra Montecassino e Fleury (VII-XII secolo)’, Mélanges de l’École française de Rome – Moyen Âge, 126 (2) (2014), pp. 557-573. Gelichi, Sauro, Librenti, Mauro, Marchesini, Marco (eds.), Un villaggio nella pianura. Ricerche archeologiche in un insediamento medievale del territorio di Sant’Agata Bolognese (Firenze: All’insegna del giglio, 2014). Heidecker, Karl J., The Divorce of Lothar II: Christian Marriage and Political Power in the Carolingian World (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2010). Hlawitschka, Edward, Franken, Alemannen, Bayern und Burgunder in Oberitalien (774-962) (Freiburg im Breisgau: Albert, 1960).

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Hourlier, Jacques, ‘La translation d’après les sources narratives’, in Beau, Antoine (ed.), Le culte et les reliques de saint Benoît et de sainte Scholastique (Montserrat: Publications de l’abadia de Montserrat, 1979), pp. 213-239. Il fuoco nell’alto medioevo (Spoleto: CISAM, 2013). La Rocca, Cristina, Agire da donna. Modelli e pratiche della rappresentazione (secoli VI-X) (Turnhout: Brepols, 2007). La Rocca, Cristina, Majocchi, Pietro (eds.), Urban Identities in Northern Italy (800-1100 ca.) (Turnhout: Brepols, 2015). Labate, Donato (ed.), Fiorano e la valle del torrente Spezzano. Archeologia di un territorio (Firenze: All’insegna del giglio, 2006). Lazzari, Tiziana, ‘Comitato’ senza città. Bologna e l’aristocrazia del suo territorio (secoli IX-XI) (Torino: Paravia, 1998). Lazzari, Tiziana (ed.), Il patrimonio delle regine: beni del fisco e politica regia fra IX e X secolo, Reti Medievali Rivista, 13 (2) (2012), pp. 123-298. Lazzari, Tiziana, ‘La creazione di un territorio: il comitato di Modena e i suoi ‘confini’, in Guglielmotti, Paola (ed.), Distinguere, separare, condividere. I confini nelle campagne dell’Italia medievale, Reti Medievali Rivista, 7/1 (2006), pp. 101-118. Lazzari, Tiziana, ‘La tutela del patrimonio fiscale: pratiche di salvaguardia del pubblico e autorità regia nel regno longobardo del secolo VIII’, Reti Medievali Rivista, 18/1 (2017), pp. 99-121. Lazzari, Tiziana, Le donne nell’alto medioevo (Milano: Bruno Mondadori, 2010). Lazzari, Tiziana, ‘Una mamma carolingia e una moglie supponide: percorsi femminili di legittimazione e potere nel regno italico’, in Isabella, Giovanni (ed.), ‘C’era una volta un re…’. Aspetti e momenti della regalità (Bologna: CLUEB, 2005), pp. 41-57. Le Goff, Jacques, Il tempo sacro dell’uomo. La ‘Legenda aurea’ di Iacopo da Varazze (Roma: Laterza, 2012). Le Jan, Regine (ed.), La royauté et les élites dans l’Europe carolingienne (début IXe siècle aux environs de 920) (Villeneuve d’Ascq: Centre d’histoire de l’Europe du Nord Ouest, 1998). Le Jan, Regine, Rivaliser, coopérer: vivre en compétition dans les sociétés du haut Moyen Âge (Turnhout: Brepols, 2017). Leccisotti, Tommaso (ed.), Il sepolcro di S. Benedetto (Roma: Sansaini, 1952). Loré, Vito, Bürher-Thierry, Geneviève, Le Jan, Regine (eds.), Acquérir, prélever, contrôler: les ressources en compétition (400-1100) (Turnhout: Brepols, 2017). MacLean, Simon, ‘After His Death a Great Tribulation Came to Italy…’: Dynastic Politics and Aristocratic Factions after the Death of Louis II, c. 870-c. 890’, Millennium – Jahrbuch, 4 (2007), pp. 239-260. MacLean, Simon, ‘Queenship, Nunneries and Royal Widowhood in Carolingian Europe’, Past and Present, 178 (2003), pp. 3-38.

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Manarini, Edoardo, ‘A Marriage, a Battle, an Honour: The Career of Boniface of the Hucpoldings during Rudolf II’s Italian Reign (924-926)’, Early Medieval Europe, 29 (1) (2020), pp. 289-309. Manarini, Edoardo, I due volti del potere. Una parentela atipica di ufficiali e signori nel regno italico (Milano: Ledizioni, 2016). Manarini, Edoardo, ‘Politiche regie e attivismo aristocratico. Il monastero di S. Silvestro di Nonantola’, Annali dell’Istituto Italiano per gli Studi Storici, 30 (2017), pp. 77-144. Manarini, Edoardo, ‘Politiche regie e conflitti nell’Emilia orientale: la fisionomia del fisco regio, San Silvestro di Nonantola e le lotte per il regno dopo l’875’, Reti Medievali Rivista, 20 (1) (2019), pp. 121-156. Mews, Constant J., ‘Gregory the Great, the Rule of Benedict and Roman Liturgy: The Evolution of a Legend’, Journal of Medieval History, 37 (2011), pp. 125-144. Meyvaert, Paul, Benedict, Gregory, Bede and others (London: Variorum, 1977). Nelson, Janet L., Politics and Rituals in Early Medieval Europe (London: Hambledon Press, 1986). Nobili, Mario, Gli Obertenghi e altri saggi (Perugia: CISAM, 2006). Padovani, Andrea, ‘Iudicaria motinensis’. Contributo allo studio del territorio bolognese nel Medioevo (Bologna: CLUEB, 1990). Patetta, Federico, Le ordalie (Torino: Bocca, 1890). Paumen, Vanessa, Judged, Beheaded, Burned: Dieric Bouts’ the Justice of Emperor Otto III within the Context of Fifteenth-Century Punitive Practices (Austin: University of Texas 2002). Philippot, Paul, ‘La justice d’Othon de Thierry Bouts: Examen stylistique et technique’, Bulletin de l’Institut royal du patrimoine Artistique, 1 (1958), pp. 31-48. Pölnitz Kehr von, Gudila, ‘Kaiserin Angilberga. Ein Exkurs zur Diplomatik Kaiser Ludwig II. von Italien’, Historisches Jahrbuch, 60 (1940), pp. 429-440. Ravegnani, Giorgio, Le biblioteche di S. Giorgio Maggiore (Firenze: L.S. Olschki, 1976). Reuter, Thomas (ed.), The Medieval Nobility: Studies on the Ruling Classes of France and Germany from the Sixth to the Twelfth Century (Amsterdam: North-Holland, 1979). Rosenwein, Barbara H., ‘The Family Politics of Berengar I, King of Italy (888-924)’, Speculum, 71 (1996), pp. 247-289. Spinelli, Giovanni (ed.), Il monachesimo italiano dall’età longobarda all’età ottoniana (secc. VIII-X) (Cesena: Badia di Santa Maria del Monte, 2006). Stechow, Wolfgang, Northern Renaissance Art, 1400-1600: Sources and Documents (Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1989). Viabilità antica e medievale nel territorio modenese e reggiano. Contributi di studio (Modena: Aedes muratoriana, 1983).

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Vignodelli, Giacomo, Il filo a piombo. Il Perpendiculum di Attone di Vercelli e la storia politica del regno italico, (Spoleto: CISAM 2012). Wickham, Chris, ‘The Changing Composition of Early Elites’, in Bougard, François, Goetz, Hans-Werner, Le Jan, Regine (eds.), Théorie et pratiques des élites au Haut Moyen Age (Turnhout: Brepols, 2011), pp. 5-20.

About the Author Edoardo Manarini is currently a post-doctoral fellow at the University of Turin. His interests revolve around Western European medieval political institutions, with a focus on Italy and elite kindreds and their interconnection with regnal power. He also studies the links between royal fisc and abbeys in Lombard and Carolingian Italy.

8

‘Italy and her [German] Invaders’ Otto III’s and Frederick Barbarossa’s Early Tours of Italy – Pomp, Generosity and Ferocity Penelope Nash Abstract Otto III (r. 995-1002) and Frederick I (Barbarossa, r. 1152-1190) made several visits to Italy. Each came as king on the first visit and emperor on the second. The two rulers enacted and endorsed what we would consider today to be abhorrent acts of violence, during their second tours especially. This chapter examines the legitimacy of those acts in the context of the times, especially focusing on how the two rulers chose to present themselves – in action, in appearance and in written works. How their contemporary biographers portrayed them forms an important part of the narrative. Keywords: Otto III, Frederick I, political violence, papacy, medieval Italy, Rome

Introduction Milan, having tyrannised over the neighbouring town of Lodi, came in for a terrible siege from the Emperor Frederic Barbarossa, and having been forced by famine to capitulate […] [in] 1162, was destroyed by the imperialists; but the town was soon rebuilt by the famous Lombard League, and the Milanese avenged their losses by the victory of Legnano.1

1 Hare, Cities of Northern and Central Italy, p. 120. I thank the Medieval and Early Modern Centre, The University of Sydney, Dr Lynette Olson, Professor Dexter Hoyos, Christopher Heath and Robert Houghton for support in the writing of this paper.

Heath, C. and R. Houghton (eds.), Conflict and Violence in Medieval Italy 568-1154. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press 2022 doi: 10.5117/9789462985179_ch08

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For many centuries, and even nowadays, the sun, the wine and general lure of Italy have proven distracting, and at times fatal, to a succession of travellers and invading armies, particularly from the north.2 When I say ‘from the north’, I mean movement from the Germanic lands south across the Alps. For centuries kings and emperors crossed the Alps, descending south to the kingdom of Italy to parade, cajole and conquer with a display of pomp, generosity and cruelty. Their subjects in turn responded with subservience, cunning and revolt. The activities and the self-representation of two rulers, crowned at Aachen 170 years apart, serve as case studies. The first is Otto III, crowned King in 983.3 The second is Frederick I (also known as Frederick Barbarossa), crowned and anointed King in 1152. 4 At that time to rule meant to travel. The reigns of Otto III and of Frederick Barbarossa were one long royal progress for both of them. When they did travel south of the Alps, was this different? In this chapter I present and contrast two expeditions by Otto III to Italy, the first in 996 and the second in 997/998, with the first and second tours to Italy by Frederick in 1154/55 and 1158/1162.5 They had two aims in common: to restore papal power in Rome and to gain the imperial crown.6 Pope Gregory V complied with the imperial coronation of Otto III in 996, and Pope Hadrian IV similarly obliged for Frederick in 1155. Barbarossa’s other goal was to launch a campaign against King William I of Sicily.7 Several examples of ritualistic behaviour arguably help us to understand 2 Bullough, Italy and Her Invaders, p. 3. 3 In May 983 King Otto II arranged for his son to be crowned joint king at Verona. The second coronation of Otto III (980-1002) at Aachen on Christmas Day 983 was an acknowledgement by the leading men that they confirmed his right to succession. 4 Frederick I Barbarossa was born in 1122 to Judith, daughter of Henry IX, Duke of Bavaria, and Duke Frederick II of the Hohenstaufen dynasty. He died on 10 June 1190 in the Saleph River while on crusade to the Holy Land: Munz, Frederick Barbarossa, p. 141. See also K. Leyser, ‘Frederick Barbarossa’, p. 141. 5 For Europe between the tenth and twelfth centuries see the following selection: for an overview of the historiography, see Eldevik, Episcopal Power, pp. 1-28; for Europe broadly, see Reynolds, Kingdoms and Bisson, Crisis; for Germany, see Weinfurter, The Salian Century. 6 Munz, Frederick Barbarossa, p. 64. For the concept and desirability of the imperial crown, see for example Jones, Mauntel and Oschema, ‘Controversial Terminology’, especially pp. 235-241. 7 King William I of Sicily (r. 1154-66). Frederick Barbarossa’s uncle, King Conrad III (r. 1138-1152) (never crowned emperor), on the way home from the second crusade had made a treaty with the Byzantine emperor Manuel Comnenus (whether by force or by intention is unclear), ‘to destroy the power of the Norman kings of Sicily’: Munz, Frederick Barbarossa, p. 63. During Conrad’s reign, King Roger II of Sicily (r. 1130-1154) attacked Byzantine territories, expanded his influence on the mainland of Italy and refused to recognize the German king: Houben, Roger II, pp. 89-94, 97.

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better some of the motives of rulers within their historical context as Otto III and Frederick sought to control their subjects and to report their own perceived achievements. However, before I can do that, I need to frame the discussion within three headings – a ceremony, an event and entitlements. These are the ceremony of adventus, the legacy of Pippin and the rights of the king in Italy.

Imperial Consciousness Adventus The first matter of interest concerns the interactions of rulers with the popes. There existed a long tradition of official welcomes for rulers by the pontif. The adventus arose from a ceremony originating in ancient Rome, during which an emperor was formally welcomed into a city either while undertaking a progress or after a military campaign, often (but not always) into Rome and later into Constantinople.8 Later medieval kings continued this tradition. The Anonymous Valesianus text reports that in 500 ‘King Theodoric (who held Arian beliefs) went to Rome and met Saint Peter with as much reverence as if he himself were a Catholic.’9 Pope Symmachus, 8 B. C. Ewald and C. F. Noreña, ‘Introduction’, in The Emperor and Rome, pp. 40-42. I have included here the witty words of Professor Hoyos about the portrayal of the emperors Galerius and Vespasian in two ancient sculptures, each of which celebrates an adventus. About an arch set up by the emperor Galerius (305-311) at Thessalonica he writes: ‘I thought it must be late antique because of its rather ratty style […]. When an emperor returned to Rome or a later capital (Galerius was perhaps heading for Nicomedia or Milan, or maybe this represents merely his passing through Thessalonica), he made a triumphal entry, with the Senate and other notables plus throngs of plebs coming out to greet him. There is a famous though fragmentary sculpture relief of the adventus of Vespasian in 70 CE, discovered sometime in the XXth-century during excavations on the Capitoline. Galerius is rather uncomfortably teetering on a highbacked chair: in earlier times the emperor showed his civil spirit by walking or maybe sitting in a litter, but the IVth-century ones were all army despots.’ Associate Professor Dexter Hoyos, pers. comm. 30 May 2015. 9 Theodoric became king of the Ostrogoths (r. 474-526) and king of Italy (r. 493-526). Ammianus Marcellinus, History, trans. Rolfe, 9.65, pp. 548-551. Arianism is the belief that Christ had a divine nature but had been created by the Father and was, therefore, ‘inferior’ to the Father, not co-eternal with the Father and not of the same substance as the Father. In contrast the Catholic (orthodox) view considers Christ as divine as the Father is divine and of the same substance as the Father and co-eternal with the Father. The Council of Nicaea in 325 and the First Council of Constantinople in 381 declared Arianism a heresy. Although Arius was a Roman, his heresy spread widely especially among the barbarians from the north. It persisted long after its condemnation, particularly among the Ostrogoths. Dunn, ‘Reception of the First Council of

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the senate and the Roman people honoured him by coming to meet him outside Rome. The Carolingians set great store by protocol in either imitating or adjusting those ancient practices as did their followers, Otto III and Barbarossa: they used the adventus not only as a chronological event but also as a remembered event of deep significance.10 Otto III and Frederick Barbarossa were acutely aware of these traditions; their actions, discussed further below, reflect the norms, albeit that they were not always explicitly articulated. The adventus and the proper enactment of other rituals were used extensively to resolve conflicts between kings and rebels. The Legacy of Pippin The second matter of interest concerns the influence on Otto III and Barbarossa of the actions of the Frankish King Pippin, father of Charlemagne. According to the papal chronicle, when the dismounted King met the papal cortège in Francia in 754, he acted as a groom to Pope Stephen II. Pippin performed the menial service of holding the stirrup for the Pope to mount, kissed the stirrup, and led the Pope’s steed with his papal rider to the palace at Ponthion in Champagne. Pippin swore that he would be at the behest of the Pope and promised that he would restore ‘the rights and territories of the republic’.11 Pippin acted in this way as a mark of humility. Future popes set great store by his actions.12 Ritual processes came into play with Otto III and Frederick Barbarossa and their respective popes during the rulers’ early sojourns in Italy. Rights of the King in Italy Third, and finally, the rights of the king in Italy were in flux. In the tenth century the bishops had been entrusted with the powers by the kings/ emperors to administer justice when in Italy. In the twelfth century Otto of Nicaea’; Kaylor, ‘Introduction: The Times, Life, and Work of Boethius’, p. 20; Matthews, ‘Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius’, p. 31; Wallace-Hadrill, ‘Gothia and Romania’, pp. 25-48. 10 Warner, ‘Ritual and Memory’, pp. 255-83, especially pp. 282-283. For discussion of the ‘rules of play‘ see G. Althoff, ‘Demonstration‘, pp. 27-50. See also Warner, ‘Rituals, Kingship’, pp. 1209-20; Barrow, ‘Playing by the Rules’, p. 393. 11 Partner, The Lands of St Peter, 1972, pp. 19-20. 12 For insight, even though he is an early commentator, see Henderson, History of Germany, p. 51. However, Freed contradicts Henderson, stating that the monarch’s leading the pope’s horse was not unusual, but holding the stirrup was a more recent invention, later than 1131: Freed, Frederick Barbarossa, p. 143.

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Freising confirmed the royal prerogative of the ruler to administer justice when in Italy. Certain of those rights were bestowed upon other authorities in the absence of the sovereign, not necessarily upon the bishops.13

Descent into Italy, Perceptions and Consequences: Otto III The relevant events of Otto III’s first and second journeys to Italy are the following. In 996 at the request of Pope John XV for his help in suppressing the rebellion led by the Roman noble Crescentius, King Otto III made his f irst descent from Germany through the Brenner Pass into Italy. 14 He travelled through Verona to Pavia where he was declared king of Lombardy. He continued down the River Po to Ravenna and then to Rome. By the time Otto reached the Holy City, Pope John XV had died. Otto took advantage of the situation to nominate and then to install his cousin Brun as pope to gain greater control over the papacy. The ruler’s patronage of relatives encouraged harmonious interactions between the Holy See and the empire.15 On 21 May the new Pope Gregory V in his turn crowned Otto III Emperor in St Peters. Four days later Otto and Gregory jointly chaired a synod that was also a judicial court. Their aim was to compel the prefect of Rome, Crescentius, and his Roman followers to give an account of their doings.16 Otto and his court were well aware of the attempts by Crescentius to control the popes. For his defiance Otto sentenced Crescentius to exile but then pardoned him at Pope Gregory’s intercession. The clemency towards Crescentius was designed to put the Roman noble in debt to Otto and the pope, with the expectation of compelling his good behaviour.17 Crescentius 13 Mierow, Deeds, p. 129. 14 Otto III was King from the age of three on the unexpected death of his father Otto II in 983. Although all diplomata and activities were undertaken in the name of the under-age king, in practice his mother, Empress Theophanu, his grandmother, Empress Adelheid, and his aunt, Abbess Mathilda of Quedlinburg, ruled the empire for him at various times until he came of age in 994 (r. 983/994-1002): Nash, Empress Adelheid and Countess Matilda, pp. 99, 102-103, 145-146, 149, 174, 178. 15 Brun was the son of Duke Otto of Carinthia and Liudgard, whose mother was the daughter of Emperor Otto I and his first wife Edith. Otto III was the grandson of Otto I and his second wife Adelheid. Therefore, Brun and Otto III were what we would call second cousins. Kelly, Oxford Dictionary of Popes, s.v. ‘Gregory V’; Leyser, Rule, betw. pp. 91 and 92. 16 The ‘Crescentius’ family were notorious for disruption and interference in papal affairs. See, for example, the letter from Gerbert of Aurillac referring to the usurpation, imprisonment and death of Pope John XIV in 984 at the instigation of the Crescentii. Gerbert of Aurillac, Epistolae, ep. 40, pp. 68-69, trans. Lattin, Letters, letter 47, pp. 87-89. 17 Althoff, Otto III, pp. 61-62.

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was dispossessed of his title of patricius, but Otto granted him permission to live in retirement at Rome. Gerd Althoff proposes that here appeared ‘an amicable resolution of a conflict mediated through the pope, and a ruler’s clemency brought into play in place of justice’.18 Otto returned to Germany, having, as he thought, satisfactorily resolved the dispute by publicly performing the royal rituals of negotiation and peace-making. In the early northern winter of 997 Otto III, now Emperor of the Romans with the power and status that the title implied, again ventured into Italy with his army. Otto celebrated Christmas in Pavia, held courts of justice there and in Cremona, found time to visit Ravenna and issued charters in favour of Italians from the various towns.19 By the middle of February Otto was on his way to Rome on a expedition of revenge to punish the same prefect Crescentius for driving Pope Gregory V out of Rome and for appointing the audacious Johannes Philagathos as pope. Gregory, still publicly acknowledged as pope by all in Italy, called a synod and excommunicated Crescentius.20 Before the Emperor’s arrival, the prefect sought refuge in the Castel Sant’Angelo and the antipope fled from Rome to a garrisoned tower; both locations proved vulnerable to Otto’s army. Arriving at Rome, Otto celebrated the Resurrection of the Lord.21 A week later, after Whitsunday, Otto ordered the siege of Castel Sant’Angelo.22 On their capture both men were subject to brutal treatment. On the Emperor’s order, Prefect Crescentius was beheaded on the battlements of Castel Sant’Angelo, his body thrown off, and then his remains retrieved and hung upside down on the Monte Mario along with twelve of his associates.23 The anti-pope Philagathos suffered no gentler fate. His eyes, nose, and tongue were removed. He was brought back to Rome where a synod formally deposed him. In accordance with the rituals of defrocking, the papal robes were stripped from his body, thereby legitimising his removal. Philagathos was led through the streets in public disgrace, sitting back-to-front on a donkey and holding its tail as reins. The punishment of the miscreant by placing him 18 Ibid., p. 80. 19 Otto III, Diplomata, nos 263-275, s.aa 997-998; Althoff, Otto III, p. 72. 20 Althoff, Otto III, p. 62. 21 17 April. 22 Now known as Whitsunday, White Sunday originally took its name from the white clothing of the newly baptized. We do not know if the number twelve is significant. However, that number, in matching the number of the disciples of Jesus, is likely to have meaning, as noted by Robert Houghton. 23 Monte Mario is a hill of about five hundred feet high situated on the Tiber about two miles/ five kilometres from Rome: Mierow, Deeds, p. 150n73.

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or her backwards on a donkey originated as a pre-Christian trope, denoting foolish behaviour contrary to the will of the ruler.24 Nevertheless Otto III may also have been presenting an inverse Jesus trope. 25 The Emperor’s original negotiations and display of clementia had not succeeded: this time he expressed his ire.26 When he carried out these actions Otto was about 18 years of age, just three years into his majority. Otto III’s actions provide the basic information for the first case study of ritual, violence and punishment which will be examined. Contemporary Views of Otto III’s First Two Tours of Italy In analysing Otto’s punishment of the actions of Crescentius and Philagathos on his second tour to Italy, we need to be aware of certain motifs and rituals prominent in the early Middle Ages. The reputed prostration by Crescentius in front of the emperor as a gesture of submission would normally require the emperor to show mercy. However, Crescentius had flouted protocol in a serious way in that the prostration was carried out without prior agreement.27 Consequently Otto III determined that the punishment of his two enemies should be public and aggressive, although to modern sensibilities, mutilation and humiliation were inflicted in especially gruesome ways.28 Did Otto III conform to the mores of the late tenth century or not? Some thought that Otto punished the two men unjustly. The venerable hermit St Nilo of Grottaferrata reproached Otto III and Gregory V for their brutal treatment of Philagathos.29 The author of the Annals of Quedlinburg poured scorn on Philagathos and defended the emperor’s right to punish him but was still unhappy with his mutilation.30 In contrast Bishop Thietmar of Merseburg believed that the two men deserved Otto’s chastisement. Crescentius had def ied Otto once and Otto had forgiven him. If the 24 For these events, see Gerbert of Aurillac, Epistolae, ep. 220, p. 261, trans. Lattin, Letters, letter 225, pp. 288-9; AQ, sub anni 997, 998, pp. 495-499; Thietmar of Merseburg, Chronicon, 4.30, p. 146, trans. Warner, Ottonian Germany, pp. 172-74; Althoff, Otto III, pp. 72-73, 79; Müller-Mertens, ‘The Ottonians’, p. 258; J. Shepard, ‘Byzantium’s Overlapping Circles’, p. 49. 25 The idea of a reverse Jesus trope was suggested to me by Robert Houghton. 26 For ira versus malevolentia, especially in the Angevin kingdom at a slightly later period, see Jolliffe, Angevin Kingship, pp. 87-109, esp. pp. 96-9. 27 Althoff, Otto III, pp. 17, 33, 75. For an overview of the importance of ritual, see Koziol, Begging Pardon, pp. 146, 233. 28 Otto III’s wilful actions had been demonstrated from an early age. Thietmar of Merseburg, Chronicon, 4.15, p. 130. 29 Vita s. Nili, chs 90, 91, pp. 616-17. 30 AQ, s.a. 998, p. 498.

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prostration by Crescentius in front of the emperor had been impromptu, then an opportunity for reconciliation would no longer exist under the rules of forgiveness and pardon at that time. Otto’s ire was just and its expression through rightful punishment was the only action available to him on this second transgression. Crescentius deserved death in a very public way. Indeed, Otto showed clementia to Philagathos by commuting his death sentence to blinding.31 Although it was an act of mutilation, blinding and punishment by riding backwards had a long tradition, and was a punishment was framed within strict guidelines. Nevertheless, the abhorrence shown by some contemporaries may indicate something beyond the norm in this case and an uncertainty among the various protagonists.32 I now turn to the second case study before undertaking a final analysis.

Frederick Barbarossa Our second case study relates to the first two journeys to Italy of Frederick I Barbarossa of the Hohenstaufen dynasty. He undertook six expeditions to Italy in total and spent sixteen of the thirty-eight years of his reign there.33 I deal initially with his first tour to set the scene for his second tour, whose most striking result was his sack of Milan. The official history of Frederick by his uncle, Otto of Freising, favours his nephew. At the outset Frederick’s first visit may seem a reasonably straightforward procession throughout the kingdom of Italy. Frederick and his army left Augsburg in October 1154, progressed south through the Alps, heard complaints on the plain at Roncaglia, razed the town of Tortona, whose residents supported the recalcitrant Milanese, was crowned king of Italy with the Iron Crown of Lombardy at Pavia, arrived in Rome, was crowned emperor by the pope, and returned north a year later. The above summary records the basic 31 Thietmar of Merseburg, Chronicon, 4.30, p. 146. See also Warner, Ottonian Germany, 4.30, pp. 172-74. 32 For a discussion of the contemporary views of Otto III’s behaviour and the debate over whether Otto showed righteous anger and acted justly or showed unjustified anger and acted cruelly, see the more detailed analysis in Nash, ‘Reality and Ritual’, pp. 265-66. For more about blinding as either a punishment or a sign of the king’s mercy in the Middle Ages, see Althoff, ‘Königsherrschaft’, pp. 70-72, 75-81, 221-232. 33 Frederick I (r. 1152-1190). For the main sources for Frederick Barbarossa, see Otto von Freising and Rahewin, Cronica, trans. Mierow, Deeds; Carmen de gestis Frederici I, trans. T. Carson, Barbarossa in Italy. See also Otto Morena, Historia Frederici I, 7:1-7:129. For Barbarossa as meaning ‘red beard’, see Canduci, Triumph, p. 261. For an overview of Frederick’s first two tours, the focus of this chapter, see Fuhrmann, Germany, pp. 142-49.

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facts. Frederick had subdued northern Italy and returned home, apparently satisfied with his actions and accomplishments. Barbarossa in Italy, According To Otto of Freising A contemporary gilded bronze bust of Frederick Barbarossa is reputed to be a good likeness.34 According to Otto of Freising, Barbarossa wore his hair short ‘out of respect for the empire’;35 Frederick consciously adopted a visual persona to present himself as a Roman emperor.36 According to Otto of Freising, a more detailed outline of Barbarossa’s tour through northern Italy is of value for understanding the viewpoint from which Otto writes and to comprehend Frederick’s later actions, especially as it provides motives for his anger against Milan. I will start with Frederick’s arrival at Roncaglia. Frederick stayed for five days (30 November-6 December 1154) and held a diet there ‘with the princes, consuls, and elders of almost all the cities.’37 The King also heard complaints. The consuls of Milan were expected to guide Frederick as he passed through the Milanese territory and to arrange suitable places for encampments for the King and his army.38 After Frederick left Roncaglia he pitched camp in the territory of the Milanese. Frederick became angry about three things: first the consuls conducted Frederick through wastelands where the army were not able to obtain any provisions; secondly a heavy downpour of rain exacerbated the army’s discomfit; and thirdly Frederick was insulted by the destitution of the cities destroyed by the Milanese, which had not been rebuilt. They ‘were even trying to bribe and to corrupt his noble and hitherto untarnished spirit to acquiesce in their iniquity.’39 Frederick advanced to the Ticino River where 34 Frederick Barbarossa, gilded bronze head, c.1160, used as a reliquary in Cappenburg Abbey, Stiftskirche Cappenberg, D 59379 Selm. See image in L. Olson, Early Middle Ages, illus. 34, p. 201. 35 ‘[P]ro reverentia imperii’, Otto von Freising and Rahewin, Cronica, 4.86, p. 708, trans. Mierow, Deeds, p. 331. Sidonius Apollinaris, when he writes ‘sicut mos gentis est’ (‘according to national fashion’), is referring to Theoderic II, King of the Visigoths (r. 453-466), as noted by Anderson in Sidonius Apollinaris, Poems and Letters, vol. 1, letter 2, 1-2, pp. 334-337. Lynette Olson suspects that Rahewin mistakenly believed that Sidonius Apollinaris meant Theodoric the Ostrogoth, because the latter was far better known throughout the Middle Ages: pers. comm., 28 May 2017. 36 A fine concise summary contributed by Robert Houghton. 37 ‘[U]t principe adveniente plurime civitates, oppida, castella’, Otto von Freising and Rahewin, Cronica, 2.16, p. 312, trans. Mierow, Deeds, p. 129. 38 Otto von Freising and Rahewin, Cronica, 2.16, p. 314. See in Mierow, Deeds, pp. 130-31. 39 ‘[E]tiam ad iniquitatis illorum assensum ipsius nobilem et incorruptum hactenus animum pecunia inclinare ac corrumpere satagebant’: Otto von Freising and Rahewin, Cronica, 2.18, p. 314, trans. Mierow, Deeds, p. 131.

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he seized two wooden bridges, which the Milanese had built to attack Pavia and Novara, crossed them with his army and then burnt them. Frederick and his men celebrated Christmas in the camp with great rejoicing about their victories. 40 It was fitting to celebrate his joy during that important Christian feast. The King’s victories confirmed him in God’s favour. At the beginning of 1155 Frederick proceeded through Vercelli and Turin, crossed the Po there, and marched towards Pavia. On his way there Frederick burned the two towns of Chieri and Asti and conquered Tortona, an ally of Milan. Frederick began the siege of Milan in February 1155 after Ash Wednesday in the first week of Lent, at the beginning of the period of penance, and ended between 10 and 16 April, when the citizens surrendered. 41 According to Otto of Freising, [A]fter the victory was won, the king was invited by the people of Pavia to their city, that they might give him a triumph [triumphum]. And there, on the Sunday on which the Iubilate is sung, in the church of St. Michael, on the site of the ancient palace of the Lombard kings, he was crowned with much rejoicing on the part of the citizens. 42

Here Otto of Freising and Barbarossa linked the very Roman imperial tradition of the triumph with Lombard custom. 43 Barbarossa was reputedly crowned at the Lombard palace at Pavia with the Iron Crown of the Lombards, the traditional crown of the kings of Italy since its association with Theodelinda (c.570-628), Queen of the Lombards. She married the Lombard King Authari (r. 584-590) and on his death in 590 gave advice on the selection of the next king, Agilulf (r. 590-616), whom she took as her second husband. 44 Barbarossa stayed three days at Pavia ‘with great joy

40 Otto von Freising and Rahewin, Cronica, 2.18-2.19, pp. 314-316, trans. Mierow, Deeds, pp. 131-32. 41 Otto von Freising and Rahewin, Cronica, 2.20-2.23, 2.27, pp. 326, 334-36, trans. Mierow, Deeds, pp. 132-36, 141-42. 42 ‘Peracta victoria rex a Papiensibus ad ipsorum civitatem triumphum sibi exhibituris invitatur, ibique ea dominica qua Iubilate canitur in ecclesia sancti Michahelis, ubi antiquum regum Longobardorum palatium fuit, cum multo civium tripudio coronatur’, Otto von Freising and Rahewin, Cronica, 2.29, p. 336, trans. Mierow, Deeds, p. 142. According to Schmale, the most probable date for the coronation was Sunday, 24 April: Otto von Freising and Rahewin, Cronica, p. 337n69. 43 I am indebted here to Robert Houghton for noting the melding of the two traditions at that time. 44 Paul the Deacon, Historia, 3.30, 3.35, 4.8-4.9, trans. Foulke, History, 3.30, pp. 137-141; 3.35, pp. 149-150; 4.8-4.9, pp. 155-157. See also Bárány, Die eiserne; Skinner, pp. 55-58; Wood, Modern Origins, p. 124.

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and large outlay on the part of the city.’45 Frederick bypassed Piacenza, celebrated Whitsunday near Bologna on 15 May, crossed the Appennines, and travelled through Tuscany. He instructed the Pisans to fit out ships against William of Sicily. Otto of Freising describes with great enthusiasm Frederick’s approach to St Peter’s in preparation for his imperial coronation: After the sun had risen, and at the end of the first hour, Pope Hadrian led the way with the cardinals and the clergy and awaited the prince’s arrival on the steps; the latter broke camp and fully armed descended the slope of Monte Mario with his men and entered the Leonine city. 46

The descent from the Monte Mario of Frederick and his troops in full armour displayed his power in action and right of conquest. Otto of Freising, recalling the Song of Songs and Maccabees, reports that the soldiers marching in order were ‘[t]errible as an army with banners […]. The sun shone upon the shields of gold, and the mountains glowed [in their reflection].’47 Otto of Freising then describes the meeting between Frederick and Pope Hadrian. [T]he prince, coming to the steps of the church, was received with all honour by the supreme pontiff and led to the tomb […] of the blessed Peter. [A]fter the solemnities of the Mass had been celebrated by the pope himself, the king […] received the crown of the empire […]. All who were present acclaimed him with great joy, and glorified God’. 48

According to Otto of Freising the pope led the emperor to the church, following in the tradition of Pippin and Pope Stephen II. Not all those present were enamoured with the imperial coronation. It was necessary to guard 45 ‘[C]um magna civitatis letitia et impensa’, Otto von Freising and Rahewin, Cronica, 2.29, pp. 336-38, trans. Mierow, Deeds, 2.27, p. 142. 46 ‘Sole orto, transacta iam prima hora, precedente cum cardinalibus et clericis summo pontifice Adriano eiusque adventum in gradibus prestolante, rex castra movens, armatus cum suis per declivum montis Gaudii descendens, ea porta […] Leoninam urbem […] intravit’, Otto von Freising and Rahewin, Cronica, 2.34, p. 352, trans. Mierow, Deeds, p. 150. Mierow confirms that ‘declivem montis Gaudii’ is indeed the slope of Monte Mario. That slope is the same Monte Mario from which the remains of Crescentius and his companions were displayed on Otto III’s second journey to Italy. 47 ‘Terribilis ut castrorum acies ordinate’ (Song of Solomon 6.4); ‘Refulsit sol in clipeos aureos, et resplenduerunt montes ab eis’ (I Maccabees 6:39). See Otto von Freising and Rahewin, Cronica, 2.34, p. 352, trans. Mierow, Deeds, p. 150. 48 Otto von Freising and Rahewin, Cronica, 2.34, p. 354, trans. Mierow, Deeds, p. 150.

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the entrance to Rome so that ‘the rejoicing over the ceremony might not be interrupted by the frenzied population.’ Frederick, now emperor, ‘wearing the crown and mounted upon [a horse covered with elaborately decorated fittings] […], rode alone, [everyone else] […] going on foot.’49 The Roman population was enraged because, among other matters, Frederick had received the imperial crown without their assent and ordered the execution of Arnold of Brescia, a monk who preached against the power of the church.50 Frederick and his men spent the rest of his coronation day fighting the citizens of Rome. According to Otto of Freising almost one thousand Romans were killed, six hundred taken captive, and many wounded.51 Otto counted the day’s work a magnificent triumph. Shortly afterwards several of Frederick’s men fell sick, probably from malaria. Many could not continue. The emperor returned home through Spoleto, Verona, Trento, Bolzano, and Brixen in September 1155.52 What Really Happened on Barbarossa’s First Tour of Italy How successful was Frederick’s first visit into Italy? Not as effective as his uncle generally presents. From one point of view Frederick could be considered to have taken a measured approach. The king had intended to pass through Lombardy and concentrate on his proposed coronation as Emperor by the pope and to do battle with the King of Sicily. When events forced him to deal with the Milanese, he prudently by-passed Milan itself, keeping as far west as he could so that he eventually crossed the river Po near Turin. After the citizens of Chieri and Asti vacated the towns, Frederick and the army looted and then destroyed them. He retraced his steps and wisely chose to lay siege to Tortona, an ally of Milan, instead of Milan itself.53 However, the attempt to reduce Lombardy had utterly failed. The choice of Tortona rather than Milan, as an example to the Lombard towns, could be seen as a sign of weakness in the imperium because the destruction of only Tortona after two months of siege was a very limited victory. The actual opponent, Milan, was little affected. Frederick turned southwards and avoided Piacenza, without a complete loss of face. He had spent too long at Tortona; he no longer had time to settle accounts with the Normans on 49 Otto von Freising and Rahewin, Cronica, 2.34, p. 354, trans. Mierow, Deeds, pp. 150-51 50 Otto von Freising and Rahewin, Cronica, 2.30, pp. 338-42, trans. Mierow, Deeds, p. 143-44. 51 Otto von Freising and Rahewin, Cronica, 2.33, trans. Mierow, Deeds, p. 151. 52 Otto von Freising and Rahewin, Cronica, 2.33, 2.35, 2.37, 2.40, 2.43, pp. 354, 358-360, 362-364, trans. Mierow, Deeds, pp. 151-54, 155, 159. 53 Munz, Frederick Barbarossa, pp. 73-75.

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this expedition. He left behind a Milan ‘untouched, powerful, and in full opposition’.54 Even Otto of Freising could not avoid reporting that Frederick was forced to compensate the bishops of Trento and Brixen for the ravages that his army had inflicted on ‘certain holy places’ during his descent into Italy.55 The only victor appeared to be King William of Sicily. My assessment is that Frederick behaved both angrily and prudently. He spent too long at Tortona on a pointless task. However, he then avoided Milan which the number of his troops and the restricted timeframe meant he could not conquer. He wisely avoided Milan and advanced to Pavia. Barbarossa primed his chronicler, Otto of Freising, to present a more flattering view of events. Frederick’s second tour of Italy, like Otto III’s, became a revenge expedition. What Really Happened on Barbarossa’s Second Tour of Italy The detailed examination of Frederick’s first visit in this chapter laid the groundwork for a review of his treatment of Milan during his second visit to Italy, when he destroyed a large part of Milan. Recall that his first visit and all that befell him at that time laid the groundwork for his attitudes and actions in his second visit. After a long siege against Milan that he initiated in the spring of 1161, Frederick began to gain the upper hand. When the citizens were stretched to breaking point, the Emperor sent six of the captured Milanese back to their city after certain mutilations. Five of these he blinded, the sixth lost his nose but retained his eyes and was able to lead his compatriots to Milan – as a warning to the citizens there. In March 1162 Barbarossa systematically demolished much of the city within a week of its surrender, leaving part of the ancient metropolis standing.56 Certain Lombard cities, including Lodi, Cremona, and Pavia, long-time enemies of Milan, remained faithful to Frederick.57 Despite the ravages by the Emperor and his allies the ‘Milanese side’ and the ‘Barbarossa side’ managed to come together soon afterwards in 1176 to sign the pacts of the 54 Mierow, Deeds, p. 142n53. See also Otto von Freising and Rahewin, Cronica, 2.30, p. 338n72. 55 ‘[P]er quosdam religiosos’, Otto von Freising and Rahewin, Cronica, 2.12, trans. Mierow, Deeds, pp. 124-25. 56 Otto von Freising and Rahewin, Cronica, 3.33-3.52, pp. 464-502, trans. Mierow, Deeds, pp. 206-25. See also Munz, Frederick Barbarossa, pp. 181-83; M. Pacaut, Frederick Barbarossa, pp. 99-100. For memories of the destruction of Milan over the centuries, see the essays written from German and Italian viewpoints in Silanos and Sprenger (eds.), La distruzione. 57 Otto von Freising and Rahewin, Cronica, 3.51, 4.7, trans. Mierow, Deeds, 4.7, pp. 222-23, 238. See also Munz, Frederick Barbarossa, pp. 184-185.

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Lombard League, a treaty that was effective only in the short term because the cities, bishops and local nobles came to realise that their accumulated and long-standing rights were being eroded.58 A brief discussion of the siege and its aftermath is salutary. The Emperor met delegations from the city at Lodi, who asked for pardon. He allowed the residents to leave before the destruction of their city, showing that he was willing to spare repentant citizens. He allocated them places to live outside of but close to Milan, albeit that these were unfortified.59 Those events demonstrate that Frederick was willing to show mercy if his subjects obeyed him and showed proper remorse. That is, although he acted cruelly and imposed heavy penalties he did not intend to destroy the citizens. I now return to examine the ceremony of adventus, the legacy of Pippin and the rights of the king in Italy under Frederick Barbarossa.

Imperial Consciousness Remade Adventus Rearranged and the Legacy of Pippin Questioned Four hundred years after Pippin’s submission to Pope Stephen II by leading his horse, King Frederick and Pope Hadrian replicated a similar display that did not proceed so smoothly. Otto of Freising omitted the episode. King Frederick received Pope Hadrian IV at the royal tent on the day scheduled for the king’s coronation (17 June 1155). After kissing the pope’s feet, Frederick expected to receive the traditional kiss of peace. However, Frederick had declined to hold the Pope’s stirrup (or possibly held the left instead of the right stirrup) while leading him to the tent. Hadrian refused to give him the kiss until that protocol had been followed. Frederick hesitated, and Hadrian withdrew.60 Do we see here a shift in the relationship between the ruler and the pope at this interchange, as David Warner suggests, that is, the pope considered that the emperor had become the pope’s vassal rather than demonstrating a simple matter of humility?61 Eventually Frederick held the stirrup, and the pope returned the kiss. The next day Frederick’s 58 Mierow, Deeds, p. 238. 59 Munz, Frederick Barbarossa, pp. 181-83; Pacaut, Frederick Barbarossa, pp. 99-100. 60 Otto of Freising omits this initial set-back for Frederick: Otto von Freising and Rahewin, Cronica, 2.34, trans. Mierow, Deeds, pp. 150-51. The following early source gives a good summary: Comyn, History, p. 231. See also Freed, Frederick Barbarossa, pp. 141-144. 61 Warner, ‘Rituals, Kingship’, p. 1211.

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coronation proceeded, and the pope and the king moved forward to the Vatican.62 Harmony was restored, at least on that occasion. The Rights of the King in Italy Overturned A further significant change had taken place since the time of Otto III regarding the rights of the king in Italy. By the middle of the twelfth century the towns of Lombardy had usurped them. Frederick did not object to this during his first visit to Italy. His objection arose later. Otto of Freising explains that when the king banned the Milanese in 1155, he took from them all but one of the rights that they had exercised to that date. Those rights included coining, levying customs, and exercising general secular jurisdiction. Barbarossa removed the right to mint from the Milanese and bestowed it on the Cremonese. During those long periods in which the king-emperor was not in Italy, the use of those rights was vested in other authorities.63 Rahewin, the Continuator of Otto of Freising’s Gesta, specified the emperor’s ‘regalia’ as Barbarossa’s authority over: [D]ukedoms, marches, counties, consulates, mints, market tolls, forage tax, wagon tolls, gate tolls, transit tolls, mills, fisheries, bridges, all the use accruing from running water, and the payment of an annual tax, not only on the land, but also on their own persons.64

Frederick could also appoint officials. The use of the regalia by the Milanese had not been illegal on Frederick’s first visit to Italy, but the people had been ‘disloyal to the emperor and had to be punished’.65 The rights of the kings in Italy changed between Otto III’s and Frederick Barbarossa’s sojourns. Suffice it to say that whereas Otto III entrusted his bishops with the right to administer justice and to appoint to offices when he was absent from Italy, Frederick withdrew those rights at the time of his second tour to Italy. On his second visit Frederick put forward a much more extensive understanding of the regalia. In his changed view, an ‘extensive range 62 Comyn, History, p. 231. 63 Koeppler, ‘Frederick Barbarossa’, 577-607, p. 582. 64 ‘[D]ucatus, marchias, comitatus, consulatus, monetas, thelonea, fodrum, vectigalia, portus, pedatica, molendina, piscarias, pontes omnemque utilitatem ex decursu fluminum provenientem, nec de terra tantum verum etiam de suis propriis capitibus census annui redditionem’, Otto von Freising and Rahewin, Cronica, 4.7, trans. Mierow, Deeds, p. 238. 65 Koeppler, ‘Frederick Barbarossa’, p. 582. See also Munz, Frederick Barbarossa, p. 70.

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of jurisdictional and fiscal rights attached to the imperial crown. With the backing of the Roman lawyers at Bologna, they were given a wide interpretation at the second diet of Roncaglia in 1158, and virtually all civil administration was deemed to be derived from, and […] subject to, imperial authority.’66 The changes in society of the eleventh century were noted by Archbishop Eberhard of Bamberg (d. 1170), looking back from a later generation, who recognised as novel the Emperor’s interpretation of his regalia. He looked back nostalgically to the tenth century when the rights of the Ottos as king-emperors were undoubtedly accepted: The records of another time are consulted, the imperial titles are read perhaps in the form which suited that age and the goodness as well as the simplicity of those times […]. But now all things are changed.67

Pope Hadrian IV sent the four cardinals who were most likely to receive a sympathetic hearing to Frederick to present the church’s point of view, ‘in the (probably forlorn) hope that some accommodation could be reached without abandoning the whole Italian church to the emperor’s interpretation of his regalia’, but they were not able to heal the breach at that time.68 Barbarossa had to confront circumstances that Otto III had well under his control. Otto III could declare a renovatio imperii Romanorum (‘revival of the Roman empire’) in a charter issued from Rome on 28 April 998.69 In addition Otto III had been able to appoint a pope in harmony with his aims and activities (Pope Sylvester II) and he was secure in the feudal rights that were owed to him as king/emperor. Frederick’s situation was not nearly as secure. At the second Diet of Roncaglia in 1158 he had to re-enact the rights that he had initially enacted at the first Diet of Roncaglia in 1154, thereby showing that they were still not secured. Although Frederick issued constitutions after Roncaglia (1158), in reiterating those rights his concerns were only briefly allayed. A compromise between Frederick and the cities of the Lombard League was only finally

66 A. J. Duggan, ‘Totius christianitatis caput’, pp. 135-36. For background to the events at Roncaglia at the second diet, see B. S. Pullan, ed., Sources, pp. 179-185. 67 ‘Annales quandoque revolvuntur, apices imperiales recitantur forte in ea forma, quae illi etati et tam bonitati quam simplicitati temporum illorum competebat […]. Nunc vero mutata sunt omnia’, Otto von Freising and Rahewin, Cronica, 4.22, pp. 560-62, trans. Mierow, Deeds, 4.22, p. 257. 68 Duggan, ‘Totius christianitatis caput’, p. 135. The cardinals were Octavian of Cecilia, Henry of SS. Nereo e Achilleo, William of S. Pietro in Vincoli and Guido of Crema: ibid. pp. 135-36. 69 Otto III, Diplomata, no. 285, p. 710.

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reached in June 1183 at the Peace of Konstanz, which specified the privileges of the emperor and his subjects.70

Conclusion Otto III delivered his final speech to the Romans from the top of one of the towers at Rome. Lamenting the failure of his revived Roman empire (renovatio imperii Romanorum), the emperor delivered the following speech as reported by the tenth-century German chronicler Thangmar:71 Are you not my Romans? Because of you, I abandoned my homeland and kin. For love of you, I cast off my Saxons and all of the Germans, my own blood. I led you to distant regions of our empire, where your fathers never set foot, even when they held the world in subjection. All of this, that I might spread your name and glory to the ends of the earth. I adopted you as sons and favoured you above all others. For your sake, as you were placed above everyone else, I was universally hated and resented.72

Thangmar appears to be presenting Otto as a saviour of Rome somewhat in the manner of some long-past Roman emperor, who claimed to have saved 70 Pullan, ed., Sources, pp. 179, 183-90. 71 Thangmar may have had access to now lost accounts of the reported speeches from Roman history that exhorted the Roman people (for example Augustus or Aurelian in the later third century), Hoyos, pers. comm. 4 October 2018. See also the speech that Livy attributes to Scipio, in which Scipio rails against the ungratefulness of the Romans: ‘Tribunes of the plebs, and you, Quirites, this is the anniversary of the day on which I fought with success and good fortune a pitched battle against Hannibal and the Carthaginians. It is therefore only right and fitting that on this day all pleas and actions should be suspended. I am going at once to the Capitol and the Citadel to make my devotions to Jupiter Optimus Maximus, and Juno and Minerva and all the other tutelar deities of the Capitol and the Citadel, and to offer up thanksgivings to them for having given me as on this day the wisdom and the strength to do the Republic exceptional service. Those of you, Quirites, who are at liberty to do so, come with me. You have always from my seventeenth year down to this period of my old age advanced me to honours before I was of the age for them, and I have always forestalled your honours by my services; then pray now to the gods that you may always have leaders like me.’ Livy, History, 38.51. 72 ‘Vosne estis mei Romani? Propter vos quidem meam patriam propinquos quoque reliqui. Amore vestro meos Saxones et cunctos Theotiscos, sanguinem meum, proieci; vos in remotas partes nostri imperii adduxi, quo patres vestri, cum Orbem ditione premerent, numquam pedem posuerunt; scilicet ut nomen vestrum et gloriam ad fines usque dilatarem; vos filios adoptavi, vos cunctis praetuli. Causa vestra, dum vos omnibus proposui, universorum in me invidiam et odium commovi.’: Thangmar, Vita Bernwardi, p. 770, trans. D. A. Warner, ‘Ideals’, p. 17.

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Rome. What Otto might have intended by the phrase renovatio imperii Romanorum has been the subject of much debate.73 The same charter in which the phrase occurs also records the decapitation and hanging of Crescentius. It is reasonable to conclude that Otto connected the phrase with his victory over Crescentius. Other emperors, including Frederick Barbarossa one hundred and fifty years later, could not conceive of ‘identification with the degenerates, who inhabited the holy city’.74 A quotation from David Warner about Otto III can be applied equally well to Frederick: Whatever may remain of Renovatio […], one might argue that nothing would have more clearly bound Otto to his Roman predecessors than those occasions when, in the manner of an ancient triumph, he trampled his enemy in the dust rather than forgiving him.75

Otto III and Frederick had this in common: their politics were characterised by a combination of rebelliousness and insecurity. Otto and Frederick knew that their only title to rule over Italy was based on their conquest of the kingdom, which was never an ongoing certainty.76 Warner reminds us of the image from the early sixth century on the Barberini Diptych ‘of a mounted emperor looming over barbarians, crouched in supplication below him’.77 Although clementia was an ancient Roman virtue adopted by sacral Christian kings and in theory upheld by Otto III and Frederick Barbarossa, ‘the ritualised triumphs of Roman Antiquity’ still held sway.78 *** The actions of Otto III and Frederick Barbarossa in their early tours of Italy were vindictive and cruel and they may have committed homicide. However, they did not seek to destroy their people and their culture. The emperors wanted subjects who would obey and revere them. When their followers failed in those two matters, the rulers did horrifying things to them.

73 74 75 76 77 78

Warner, ‘Ideals’, p. 16; Warner, Ottonian Germany, pp. 12-13. Godman, ‘Transmontani, p. 213. Warner, ‘Ideals’,p. 18. Godman, ‘Transmontani’, p. 213. See also Wickham, ‘Getting Justice’, pp. 103-7. Warner, ‘Ideals’, p. 18. See also M. McCormick, Eternal Victory. Warner, ‘Ideals’, p. 18.

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Bibliography Primary Sources Ammianus Marcellinus, History, Volume III: Books 27-31, Excerpta Valesiana, John C. Rolfe (trans.) (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1939). Annales Quedlinburgenses, MGH SSrG (72) Martina Giese (ed.) (Hannover, 2004). Carmen de gestis Frederici I. imperatoris in Lombardia, MGH SSrG (62) Irene SchmaleOtt (ed.) (Hannover, 1965). Carson, Thomas, Barbarossa in Italy (New York: Italica Press, 1994). Gerbert of Aurillac, Epistolae (Die Briefsammlung Gerberts von Reims), MGH Briefe 2, Fritz Weigle (ed.) (Berlin: Weidmann, 1966). Lattin, Harriet Pratt, The Letters of Gerbert, with his Papal Privileges as Sylvester II (New York: Columbia University Press, 1961). Livy, History of Rome (Rev. Canon Roberts, trans.) (6 vols.) (New York: E.P. Dutton, 1912). Mierow, Charles Christopher, The Deeds of Frederick Barbarossa (New York: Norton, 1966). Otto III, Diplomata. Die Urkunden Otto des III., MGH. Diplomata regum et imperatorum Germaniae. 2.2, T. Sickel (ed.) (Berlin, 1957). Otto Morena, Historia Frederici I, MGH SSrG n.s. 7, Ferdinand Gütterbock (ed.) (Berlin: Weidmann, 1930), pp.1-129. Otto von Freising and Rahewin, Ottonis episcopi Frisingensis et Rahewini. Gesta Frederici seu rectius Cronica, AQDG 17, Franz-Josef Schmale (ed.) (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1965). Paul the Deacon, Historia Langobardorum, MGH SSrG, G. Waitz (ed.) (Hannover: Weidmann, 1878). Foulke, William Dudley, History of the Lombards (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1907). Pullan, Brian S. (ed.), Sources for the History of Medieval Europe: From the Mid-Eighth to the Mid-Thirteenth Century (Oxford: Blackwell, 1966). Sidonius Apollinaris, Poems and Letters, W. B. Anderson (ed.) (2 vols.) (London: W. Heinemann, 1936). Thangmar, Vita Bernwardi Episcopi Hildesheimensis, MGH SS 4, G. H. Pertz (ed.) (Hannover, 1841), pp.754-82. Thietmar of Merseburg, Chronicon, AQDG, Werner Trillmich (ed.) (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 2002). Vita s. Nili abbatis Cryptae Ferratae OR Ex Vita Sancti Nili in MGH SS 4 G. H. Pertz (ed.), (Hannover: MGH 1841), pp.616-8. Warner, David A., Ottonian Germany: The Chronicon of Thietmar of Merseburg (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2001).

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Secondary Sources Althoff, Gerd, ‘Demonstration und Inszenierung: Spielregeln der Kommunikation in mittelalterlicher Offentlichkeit’, Frühmittelalterliche Studien, 27 (1993), pp. 27-50. Althoff, Gerd, ‘Königsherrschaft und Konfliktbewältigung im 10. und 11. Jahrhundert’, Frühmittelalterliche Studien, 23 (1989), pp. 265-90. Althoff, Gerd, Otto III, Phyllis G. Jestice (trans.) (Philadelphia: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2003). Bárány, Magda Oberschall, Die eiserne Krone der Lombardei und der lombardische Königsschatz, Die Kronen des Hauses Österreich 4 (Wien: Herold, 1966). Barrow, Julia, ‘Playing by the Rules: Conflict Management in Tenth and Eleventh‐ Century Germany’, EME, 11 (4) (2002), pp. 389-96. Bisson, Thomas N., The Crisis of the Twelfth Century: Power, Lordship, and the Origins of European Government (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2009). Bullough, D. A., Italy and Her Invaders (University of Nottingham, 1968). Canduci, Alexander, Triumph and Tragedy: The Rise and Fall of Rome’s Immortal Emperors (Sydney: Pier 9, 2010). Comyn, Robert, History of the Western Empire, from its Restoration by Charlemagne to the Accession of Charles V (2 vols.) (London: H. Allen and W. N. Wright, 1851). Duggan, Anne J., ‘Totius christianitatis caput: The Pope and the Princes’ in Adrian IV The English Pope (1154-1159): Studies and Texts, Brenda Bolton and Anne Duggan (eds.) (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2003), pp. 105-55. Dunn, Geoffrey D., ‘Reception of the First Council of Nicaea in Early Medieval Papal Letters’. Paper presented at the Australian Early Medieval Association Conference, 21 April 2017 (Canberra, ACT, 21 April 2017). Eldevik, John, Episcopal Power and Ecclesiastical Reform in the German Empire: Tithes, Lordship, and Community, 950-1150 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012). Ewald, Björn Christian, and Carlos F. Noreña, ‘Introduction’, in The Emperor and Rome: Space, Representation, and Ritual, Björn Christian Ewald and Carlos F. Noreña (eds.) (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), pp. 1-44. Freed, John B., Frederick Barbarossa: The Prince and the Myth (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2016). Fuhrmann, Horst, Germany in the High Middle Ages: c. 1050-1200, Timothy Reuter (trans.) (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986). Godman, Peter, ‘Transmontani: Frederick Barbarossa, Rainald of Dassel, and Cultural Identity in the German Empire’, Beiträge zur Geschichte der deutschen Sprache und Literatur, 132 (2) (Jan 2010), pp. 220-29. Hare, Augustus J. C., Cities of Northern and Central Italy, 3 vols, Vol. I. On the Rivieras, and in Piedmont and Lombardy (London: Daldy, Isbister, 1876)

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Henderson, Ernest F., A History of Germany in the Middle Ages (London: George Bell, 1894). Houben, Hubert, Roger II of Sicily: A Ruler between East and West (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002). Jolliffe, J. E. A., Angevin Kingship (London: Adam and Charles Black, 1963). Jones, Chris, Christoph Mauntel, and Klaus Oschema, ‘Controversial Terminology: Medieval Perspectives on Claiming and Assigning Imperial Status’, The Medieval History Journal, 20 (2) (2017) pp. 233-47. Kaylor, Noel Harold, ‘Introduction: The Times, Life, and Work of Boethius’ in A Companion to Boethius in the Middle Ages, Noel Harold Kaylor and Philip Edward Phillips (eds.) (Leiden: Brill, 2012), pp. 1-46. Kelly, J. N. D., Oxford Dictionary of Popes (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1986). Koeppler, H. ‘Frederick Barbarossa and the Schools of Bologna: Some Remarks on the ‘Authentica Habita’, EHR, 54 (216) (1939), pp. 577-607. Koziol, Geoffrey, Begging Pardon and Favour: Ritual and Political Order in Early Medieval France (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1992). Leyser, Karl, ‘Frederick Barbarossa and the Hohenstaufen Polity’, in Communications and Power in Medieval Europe: The Gregorian Revolution and Beyond, Timothy Reuter (ed.) (London: Hambledon Press, 1994), pp. 115-42. Leyser, Karl J., Rule and Conflict in an Early Medieval Society: Ottonian Saxony (London: Edward Arnold, 1979). Matthews, John, ‘Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius’ in Boethius, His Life, Thought, and Influence, Margaret T. Gibson (ed.) (Oxford: Blackwell, 1981), pp. 15-43. McCormick, Michael, Eternal Victory: Triumphal Rulership in Late Antiquity, Byzantium, and the Early Medieval West (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986). Müller-Mertens, Eckhard, ‘The Ottonians as Kings and Emperors’, in New Cambridge Medieval History, Volume III c.900-c.1024, Timothy Reuter (ed.) (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), pp. 233-66. Munz, Peter, Frederick Barbarossa: A Study in Medieval Politics (London: Eyre & Spottiswoode, 1969). Nash, Penelope, Empress Adelheid and Countess Matilda: Medieval Female Rulership and the Foundations of European Society, Queenship and Power (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2017). Nash, Penelope, ‘Reality and Ritual in the Medieval King’s Emotions of Ira and Clementia’ in Understanding Emotions in Early Europe, Michael Champion and Andrew Lynch (eds.) (Turnhout: Brepols, 2015), pp. 251-71. Olson, Lynette, The Early Middle Ages: The Birth of Europe (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007). Pacaut, Marcel, Frederick Barbarossa (A. J. Pomerans, trans.) (London: Collins, 1970).

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Partner, Peter, The Lands of St Peter: The Papal State in the Middle Ages and the Early Renaissance (London: Eyre Methuen, 1972). Reynolds, Susan, Kingdoms and Communities in Western Europe, 900-1300 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997). Shepard, Jonathan, ‘Byzantium’s Overlapping Circles’ in Proceedings of the 21st International Congress of Byzantine Studies, London 21-26 August 2006, Elizabeth Jeffreys, Fiona K. Haarer and Judith Gilliland (eds.) (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2008), pp. 15-55. Silanos, P. M. and K. M. Sprenger (eds.), La distruzione di Milano: un luogo di memorie (Milano: Vita e Pensiero, 2015). Skinner, Patricia, Living with Disfigurement in Early Medieval Europe (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2016). Skinner, Patricia, Women in Medieval Italian Society, 500-1200 (Harlow: Pearson Education, 2001). Wallace-Hadrill, J. M., ‘Gothia and Romania’, in The Long-Haired Kings and Other Studies in Frankish History, J. M. Wallace-Hadrill (ed.) (London: Methuen, 1962), pp. 24-48. Warner, D., ‘Rituals, Kingship and Rebellion in Medieval Germany’, History Compass, 8 (10) (2010), pp. 1209-20. Warner, David A., ‘Ideals and Action in the Reign of Otto III’, Journal of Medieval History 25 (1) (1999), pp. 1-18. Warner, David A., ‘Ritual and Memory in the Ottonian Reich: The Ceremony of Adventus’, Speculum, 76 (2) (2001), pp. 255-83. Weinfurter, Stefan, The Salian Century: Main Currents in an Age of Transition Barbara M. Bowlus (trans.) (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1999). Wickham, Chris, ‘Getting Justice in Twelfth-Century Rome’, in Zwischen Pragmatik und Performanz, Christoph Dartmann (ed.) (Turnout: Brepols, 2011), pp. 103-31 Wood, Ian, The Modern Origins of the Early Middle Ages (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013).

About the Author Penelope Nash is a historian of Italy and Germany, with a particular interest in the study of ruling women and their ability to retain their wealth and power. She has published widely on the Carolingian, Ottonian and Salian dynasties, covering dynastic change, medieval households, manuscript art and historiography.

9

‘I Predict a Riot’ What Were the Parmense Rebelling Against in 1037? Robert Houghton Abstract Contemporary narrative sources would have us believe that the 1037 riot in Parma against the Emperor Conrad II was a drunken assault on the imperial person. However, in reality this was a much more complex affair and part of the political and social changes underway in the Italian cities of the early eleventh century. This chapter argues that the 1037 riot was sparked by the collision of two conflicting imperial policies: the empowerment of the leading clergymen of Italy, including the bishop of Parma; and the strengthening of the legal position of the lower nobility (the valvassores). These policies exacerbated tensions between the bishops and their vassals which could, as happened in Parma in 1037, erupt in spectacular fashion. Keywords: Salian Italy; Bishops, communal violence, Parma; valvassores

At the end of 1037 the Emperor Conrad II celebrated Christmas in Parma. That evening a violent confrontation took place when a group of locals attacked the imperial party. Both sides sustained casualties and a section of the city was destroyed in an accompanying fire. The scholarship which addresses the causes of the riot in Parma generally falls into two camps. The first presents the riot as a consequence of the same motivations as the earlier riot in Milan, envisaging an attack on the bishop by those excluded from his circle which sought to reduce its burdens and extend its powers.1 In 1 A. Falce, Bonifacio di Canossa, padre di Matilda (Reggio-Emilia, 1927), p. 65; R. Schumann, Authority and the Commune, Parma 833-1133 (Parma, 1973), p. 203; G. Albini, ‘Vescovo, comune: il governo della citta tra XI e XIII secolo’, in R. Greci (ed.), Il governo del vescovo: chiesa, città, territorio nel Medioevo parmense (Parma, 2005), pp. 67-85, at pp. 68-9.

Heath, C. and R. Houghton (eds.), Conflict and Violence in Medieval Italy 568-1154. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press 2022 doi: 10.5117/9789462985179_ch09

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contrast, Salvatorelli and more recently Zimmerman and Wolfram present fundamentally different causes for the riot in Parma, seeing it as simply a reaction against a display of imperial domination within the city; Conrad, as the representative of this domination, was therefore a natural target for the rioters.2 This article will argue that the former of these schools is partially correct, but that the political situation in Parma was more complicated than is typically allowed, that the tension between the bishop and a section of his city was more nuanced than is often presented, and that the presence of the emperor was not coincidental to the riot. The Parmense riot was not the earliest incident in which a group within an Italian city became involved in conflict with imperial forces. Similar uprisings were recorded in Pavia and Ravenna during the early years of Conrad’s reign.3 Most recently, in January 1037 the Milanese attacked the Emperor and his party: this incident and the connected production of the constitutio de feudis form an important backdrop to the riot in Parma at the end of the year. 4 However, these cities were either archbishoprics (Milan and Ravenna) or the secular centre of the kingdom of Italy (Pavia). Parma was an important city in Italy but not to the same extent as these more prominent urban hubs. The incident in Parma is therefore significant as an example of such a riot in a relatively small city without the baggage attached to ecclesiastic or imperial centres. This lack of exceptionalism provides an alternate viewpoint on the political and social situation within Italy in this period which may be more applicable across the region as a whole. However, in part because it took place in a less prominent city, the riot in Parma has been largely ignored by modern scholars. It is overshadowed by the events in Milan earlier in the year which undoubtedly had more visible, wide ranging, and longer lasting effects on the Italian socio-political landscape. Furthermore, the Parman riot is not covered as extensively in the primary sources. Unlike the Milanese incident, which was detailed by Arnulf of Milan in his Liber gestorum recentium,5 there is no extensive, 2 L. Salvatorelli, L’Italia Comunale dal secolo XI alla metà del Secolo XIV (Milan, 1940), p. 21; H. Zimmermann, ‘I Signori di Canossa e l’Impero (da Ottone I a Enrico III)’, in P. Golinelli (ed.), I Poteri dei Canossa, da Reggio Emilia all’Europa: atti del convegno internazionale di studi (Reggio Emilia-Carpineti, 29-31 ottobre 1992), Il mondo medievale (Bologna, 1994), pp. 413-9, at p. 416; H. Wolfram, Conrad II, 990-1039: Emperor of Three Kingdoms, trans. D.A. Kaiser (University Park, 2006), p. 100. 3 See for example: Wolfram, Conrad II, pp. 63, 99-100. 4 G. Tabacco, The Struggle for Power in Medieval Italy: Structures of Political Rule (Cambridge, 1989), pp. 133-4. 5 Arnulf, Liber gestorum recentium, ed. C. Zey, Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Scriptores rerum Germanicarum in usum scholarum separatim editi 67 (Hannover, 1994).

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local, near contemporary account. The accounts available are generally brief and produced either by substantially later authors or by writers based north of the Alps. Nevertheless, various narrative and charter documents deal with the events surrounding the riot. While none of these sources provide an explicit explanation of the causes of the riot, the details provided by these sources present implicit motivations for the rioters. The narrative sources have been examined by various modern authors and form the basis of much of the existing scholarship. However, these sources have often been read rather shallowly. The motivations and goals of their authors have not been considered in full and the material has been used to support existing models and theories of the political and social systems of the Italian proto-communes rather than as the basis for these theses in their own right. Furthermore, several relevant charter sources have been largely ignored in discussion of the riot. Most notably, the importance of a series of three charters to the bishop of Parma concerning the comitatus in his diocese and a fourth document, commonly known as the constitutio de feudis, concerning the legal rights of the valvassores of Italy have been overlooked. The failure to consider these sources in full has been coupled in many cases with an oversimplification of the political structures in Italy during the early eleventh century. Hugh, Bishop of Parma, has been presented as a steadfast supporter of the Emperor, rewarded for his support through grants of land and power.6 Likewise, Boniface, Margrave of Canossa, is almost always presented as a loyal and privileged vassal throughout Conrad’s reign.7 However, these figures were part of a wider relationship network curated by the Emperor to check the power of any potential rebel. While Hugh and Boniface were both beneficiaries of Conrad’s largesse, this was not a guaranteed or consistent flow of power. At times, both figures were countered or refused by the Emperor. Some authors have highlighted a 6 G. Schwartz, Die Besetzung der Bistümer Reichsitaliens: unter den sächsischen und salischen Kaisern mit den Listen der Bischöfe 951-1122, Reprints 4 (Spoleto, 1993), p. 186; Schumann, Authority and the Commune, pp. 145-6; M. Guenza, ‘Pastori e signori: La grande potenza dei vescovi parmensi’, in R. Greci (ed.), Il governo del vescovo: chiesa, città, territorio nel Medioevo parmense (Parma, 2005), pp. 47-66, at p. 59. 7 C. Violante, ‘Aspetti della politica italiana di Enrico III prima della sua discesa in Italia (1039-1046)’, Rivista storica italiana 64 (1952), pp. 157-76, at pp. 167-72; Zimmermann, ‘I Signori di Canossa’, p. 416; P. Golinelli, ‘L’Italia dopo la lotta per le investiture: la questione dell’eredità matildica’, Studi Medievali 3, 42 (2) (2001), pp. 509-28, at p. 511; V. Eads, ‘The Geography of Power: Matilda of Tuscany and the Strategy of Active Defense’, in D.J. Kagay and L.J.A. Villalon (eds.), Crusaders, Condottieri, and Cannon: Medieval Warfare in Societies Around the Mediterranean, History of warfare v. 13 (Leiden, 2002), pp. 355-86, at pp. 357-8.

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tension between these two f igures, but this does not fully explore the complexity of their world.8 In addition to these issues, depictions of the social structures in Parma, and Italy as a whole, are regularly bent to fit existing models. The most notable of these is Hagen Keller’s three tier Ständeordnung which divides society into the descending ordines of capitanei (higher nobility), valvassores (lower nobility), and cives (non-noble).9 The need to consider regional variations around this model and to avoid its unthinking and ubiquitous application has been highlighted by several authors, including Keller himself.10 However, Keller’s work continues to exert a great deal of influence,11 and this has led in many cases to an overenthusiastic classification of a group on a socio-political basis with little justification. Even when such models are applied more carefully, as is the case in Wickham’s recent work,12 the fundamental assumption that there existed more or less well defined and recognised ordines remains. In combination, these simplifications have led to a distortion of the events and causes of the riot in Parma within modern scholarship. The presentation of the lower orders of society rising in protest against the bishop or the emperor is insufficient. By re-examining the sources and events prior to the riot it is possible to create a much more refined account. After reconsidering the sources relevant to the riot and highlighting the goals of their authors, this paper will argue a series of interconnected points: 1) The political situation in and around Parma in 1037 was more complex than is commonly accepted. The emperor maintained a careful balance 8 N. Pelicelli, I vescovi della chiesa parmense (Parma, 1936), pp. 106-30; L. Santifaller, Zur Geschichte des ottonisch-salischen Reichskirchensystems (Vienna, 1964), pp. 27-43; Schumann, Authority and the Commune, pp. 97, 145-6. 9 H. Keller, Adelsherrschaft und städtische Gesellschaft in Oberitalien (9-12. Jahrhundert) (Tübingen, 1979), p. 20. 10 H. Keller, ‘Gli inizi del comune in Lombardia: limiti della documentazione e metodi di ricerca’, in R. Bordone and J. Jarnut (eds.), L’evoluzione delle città italiane nell’XI secolo, Annali dell’Istituto storico italo-germanico 25 (Bologna, 1988), pp. 45-70, at p. 60; H. Keller, Signori e vassalli nell’Italia delle città (secoli IX-XII) (Torino, 1995), p. xx; A. Castagnetti, La Marca Veronese-Trevigiana (Torino, 1986); R. Bordone, La società cittadina del Regno d’Italia: Formazione e sviluppo delle caratteristiche urbane nei secoli XI e XII (Turin, 1987), p. 179; G. Tabacco, ‘Dinamiche sociali e assetti del potere’, in ‘Dinamiche sociali e assetti del potere’, Città e campagna: rapporti politici ed economici (Perugia, 1988), pp. 281-302, at pp. 282-8. 11 Bordone, La società cittadina; P. Grillo, Milano in età comunale (1183-1276): istituzioni, società, economia, Istituzioni e società 1 (Spoleto, 2001). 12 C. Wickham, Sleepwalking into a New World: The Emergence of Italian City Communes in the Twelfth Century (Princeton, NJ, 2015).

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of power between the bishop of Parma, count of Parma and margrave of Canossa which was disrupted in the years prior to the riot. 2) The identification of the rioters in Parma as a bounded social ordo or group of ordines is unsound. There is little evidence of a stratified social structure in Parma in this period; the terms used to describe supposed ordines were fluid and dictated by the needs of their authors. 3) These simplifications of the political and social systems surrounding Parma have meant that nuances in the motivation behind the riot have been overlooked. The riot was not simply an outcry against exclusion from the bishop’s circle or against a display of imperial might. Instead, two contradictory movements in the power structure around the city created a tension between the bishop and some part of his diocese. This erupted into conflict in the presence of the author of these movements: the emperor.

Sources There are five narrative sources of immediate relevance to the riot in 1037. Of these the most extensive are Wipo’s Gesta Chuonradi II Imperatoris and Donizone’s Vita Matildis. The Annales Hildesheimenses provides a briefer account while the Annales Augustani and Annales Parmenses minores do little more than acknowledge the incident. Notably, none of the sources were produced by contemporary figures within the city of Parma itself. The German documents are removed by distance while the Italian ones are separated by time. Through his Gesta Chuonradi II Imperatoris, Wipo, a chaplain at the court of Conrad II who remained in place in the early years of the rule of Henry III,13 sought to instruct the young Henry III, and, by extension, the imperial court, in the right government of the realm.14 Written and revised between 1039, the year of Conrad’s death, and 1046,15 Wipo was a near contemporary to the events of the riot. It is unclear whether Wipo accompanied Conrad on his second expedition into Italy, but many of the broad strokes of Wipo’s narrative can be corroborated by other sources. Most notably, his account of the events in Milan run very close to those 13 T.E. Mommsen and K.F. Morrison (eds.), Imperial Lives and Letters of the Eleventh Century, Records of Western Civilization (New York, 1962), p. 42. 14 Mommsen and Morrison (eds.), Imperial Lives and Letters, pp. 43-4. 15 Mommsen and Morrison (eds.), Imperial Lives and Letters, pp. 43-4.

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described by Arnulf of Milan in his Liber Gestorum Recentium.16 However, through the details of his account, Wipo distorted or altered events to suit his goals and needs,17 emphasising the role of the young Henry,18 criticising Conrad for his treatment of the Church,19 and underlining the validity of imperial ideals through the outcome of events such as the Pavian resistance to Conrad.20 The complexities of Wipo’s motivations have been discussed at some length, but their implications for our reading of events in Parma in 1037 has been overlooked. The Vita Mathildis was composed between 1110 and 1116,21 at least seventy years after the riot by Donizone, a monk and later abbot of the monastery at Canossa.22 His account is nevertheless important here as it has contributed to the modern understanding of the incident and the events and motivations surrounding it. Notably, Donizone’s consideration of Conrad’s second expedition to Italy details only the riot in Parma, completely ignoring events in Milan and Conrad’s campaign in the south of the peninsula. This very narrow focus was dictated by Donizone’s goals in writing. The monk sought to aggrandise Matilda of Canossa, the patron of his monastery, and, by extension, her family.23 Further, Donizone sought to paint the Canossans as loyal supporters of the German emperors, thereby securing the legitimacy

16 Arnulf, Liber gestorum recentium. 17 Wolfram, Conrad II, p. 26. 18 Mommsen and Morrison (eds.), Imperial Lives and Letters, pp. 43-4. 19 S. Weinfurter, The Salian Century: Main Currents in an Age of Transition, Middle Ages Series (Philadelphia, 1999), p. 47. 20 Weinfurter, The Salian Century, pp. 19-20, 35; Wolfram, Conrad II, p. 26. 21 Schumann, Authority and the Commune, p. 323; I.S. Robinson, ‘The Metrical Commentary on Genesis of Donizo of Canossa: Bible and Gregorian Reform’, Recherches de Théologie ancienne et médié 41 (1974), pp. 5-37, at p. 8; P. Bonacini (ed.), ‘Sulle Strade dei Canossa dal Parmense Tutto Intorno’, in ‘Sulle Strade dei Canossa dal Parmense Tutto Intorno’, Studi Matildici IV Atti e Memorie del Convegno Il territorio parmense da Carlo Magno ai Canossa (Modena, 1997), pp. 11-44, at p. 11. 22 Bonacini (ed.), ‘Sulle Strade dei Canossa’, p. 11; Robinson, ‘The Metrical Commentary’, p. 7. 23 G. Fasoli, ‘Rileggendo la “Vita Mathildis” di Donizone’, in ‘Rileggendo la “Vita Mathildis” di Donizone’, Studi matildici, Atti e Memorie del II Convegno di Studi matildici (Reggio Emilia, 1-3 maggio 1970) (Modena, 1971), pp. 15-39, at pp. 38-9; P. Golinelli, ‘Le origini del mito di Matilde e la fortuna di Donizone’, in P. Golinelli (ed.), Matilde di Canossa nelle culture europee del secondo millennio: dalla storia al mito: atti del convegno internazionale di studi (Reggio Emilia, Canossa, Quattro Castella, 25-27 settembre 1997), Il mondo medievale 8 (Bologna, 1999), pp. 29-52, at pp. 29-31; M. Nobili, ‘L’Ideologia Politica in Donizone’, in ‘L’Ideologia Politica in Donizone’, Studi matildici, Atti e Memorie del III Convegno di Studi matildici (Reggio Emilia, 7-9 ottobre 1977) (Modena, 1978), pp. 263-79; L. Simeoni, ‘La “Vita Mathildis” e il suo valore storico’, Atti e memorie, Regia Deputazione di storia patria per le provincie modenesi 4 (1927), pp. 18-64, at p. 63.

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of their landholdings and rights and,24 by extension, the extensive lands and rights donated by the family to Donizone’s monastery.25 To this end, the poet presents a tale of Boniface, Matilda’s father, supporting the emperor at Parma to underline the loyalty and prowess of this family.26 He omitted the other events of the imperial expedition as they could not be used to support his rhetoric. Moreover, Donizone adjusted the details of the events he described here and elsewhere in his writing in order to better achieve his goals.27 As Allen demonstrates, the Annales Hildesheimenses were likely composed over a period of just over a century from around 1020 to after 1125, between the completion of the monastery of St Michael at Hildesheim and the death of Henry V, the last event covered by the annals.28 The work is generally regarded to be a product of Hildesheim’s monastery of St Michael.29 Although primarily concerned with the affairs of the monastery and the bishop of Hildesheim with a secondary interest in the history of the church in general, the annals also refer to a number of events which it presents as being outside this sphere; the 1037 riot in Parma is an example of such an event. The annalists are supportive of Henry IV, particularly in his opposition to Gregory VII, and generally present the Ottonian and Salian emperors in a positive light.30 They draw on a variety of sources including secular narratives such as the annals of Lorsch and Hersfeld as well as secular and ecclesiastical charters.31 In regards to the 1037 riot, the annalist is almost 24 V. Fumagalli, ‘I Canossa tra realtà regionale e ambizioni europee’, in ‘I Canossa tra realtà regionale e ambizioni europee’, Studi matildici, Atti e Memorie del III Convegno di Studi matildici (Reggio Emilia, 7-9 ottobre 1977) (Modena, 1978), pp. 27-37, at pp. 32-3; Golinelli, ‘L’Italia’, p. 515; A. Haverkamp, Medieval Germany, 1056-1273, trans. H. Braun and R. Mortimer (Oxford, 1988), p. 91. 25 P. Golinelli, ‘Donizone e il suo poema per Matilde’, in P. Golinelli and V. Fumagalli (eds.), Vita di Matilde di Canossa (Milano, 2008), p. x; P. Golinelli, ‘Donizone’, in A.M. Ghisalberti (ed.), Dizionario biografico degli Italiani, 41 (Roma, 1992), pp. 200-3, at p. 201; E. Riversi, La memoria di Canossa: saggi di contestualizzazione della Vita Mathildis di Donizone, Studi medioevali nuova ser., 2 (Pisa, 2013), pp. 194-7. 26 Riversi, La memoria di Canossa, pp. 251-9. 27 R. Houghton, ‘Donizo’, Chichester The Virgil encyclopedia (2013); Riversi, La memoria di Canossa, p. 262; Simeoni, ‘La “Vita Mathildis”’, pp. 24-5; G. Vecchi, ‘Temi e Momenti di Scuola nella “Vita Matihildis” di Donizone’, Deputazione di storia patria per le antiche provincie modenesi. Atti e memorie 9 3 (1963), pp. 358-65, at p. 364. 28 B.H. Allen, ‘The Annals of Hildesheim’, New Hampshire (2007), p. 19. 29 F.-J. Schmale, Deutschlands Geschichtsquellen im Mittelalter: die Zeit der Sachsen und Salier (Köln; Graz, 1967), p. 43; Allen, ‘The Annals of Hildesheim’, p. vii. 30 Allen, ‘The Annals of Hildesheim’, p. 18. 31 Allen, ‘The Annals of Hildesheim’, pp. 11-3.

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certainly an outsider, reliant on accounts presented by other authors. There is no reason to think that any of the annalists were familiar with Italy or indeed had ever been there. The annalists’ interest in the event is essentially restricted to its impact on Conrad. Beyond these key texts, two documents, the Annales Augustani and Annales Parmenses Minores provide very brief accounts of the riot in Parma. The Annales Augustani share a similar background to the Annales Hildesheimenses. They were produced by a number of the canons of the cathedral at Augsburg over the course of the late eleventh and early twelfth centuries and is concerned primarily with affairs within Germany and in particular those relating to the church and city of Augsburg, but also mention events in other parts of Europe including Italy. The Annales Parmenses minores provide a brief account of the riot in Parma.32 Chronologically the source is far removed from these events: it was composed in the late twelfth century and certainly after 1167, the last event it describes.33 The brevity of these accounts and their chronological and physical distance from the events of 1037 undermines their utility. However, they do provide alternate accounts of the riot and can highlight discrepancies in the other narrative sources. Finally, the imperial and private charters produced around the time of the riot provide a relatively untapped resource in explaining the causes of the incident. These documents demonstrate the existence of relationships between their donors, recipients, witnesses and other participants. They therefore provide an indication of shifting structures of society and power in and around Parma, and of the changing rhetoric employed at the imperial and episcopal court. These documents provide no details about the riot itself, but nevertheless do a great deal to explain why this outbreak of violence occurred.

Parma c.1037 Discussion of the 1037 riot usually focuses on a competitive interaction between Boniface, the Margrave of Canossa, and Hugh, the Bishop of Parma.34 Schumann presents the riot occurring against a backdrop of Conrad’s 32 G.H. Pertz (ed.), ‘Annales Parmenses minores’, in ‘Annales Parmenses minores’, Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Scriptores (in Folio) 18 (Stuttgart, 1863), pp. 662-3. 33 Pertz (ed.), ‘Annales Parmenses minores’, p. 663. 34 Pelicelli, I vescovi della chiesa parmense, pp. 106-30; Santifaller, Zur Geschichte des ottonischsalischen Reichskirchensystems, pp. 27-43; Schumann, Authority and the Commune, p. 97.

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attempts to balance the power between the two.35 However, the relationship network in which Hugh and Boniface operated was complex and their connections to the Emperor were changeable. At the start of the eleventh century there were three main powers within and around Parma. Certainly, the Bishop of Parma was the dominant landholder in the region and held extensive rights within the city.36 Likewise, the county was on the edge of the growing domain of the Canossan family, led by Boniface of Canossa, who held designs on political and territorial expansion into Parma.37 However, the family of Bernard, Count of Parma, also held significant power in the area at the start of the early eleventh century, including important lands and the rights of the comitatus.38 The balance of power between these three individuals was of keen interest to the Emperor, especially as Parma occupied a key strategic route over the Apennines between Germany and Lombardy to the north and Tuscany and Rome to the south.39 As such, events which could disrupt this system, such as the lack of a legitimate heir for Bernard, were of great importance. Alongside this central triangle of political power and influence within and around Parma, the general population of the city began to play a more prominent and visible political role in the early eleventh century. This is evidenced by the increasing frequency of their appearances in episcopal and private documents and, more explosively, by their involvement in the riot of 1037.40 This malleable structure of authority 35 Schumann, Authority and the Commune, pp. 145-6. 36 Bonacini (ed.), ‘Sulle Strade dei Canossa’, pp. 27-31; G. Fasoli, ‘La realtà cittadina nei territori canossiani’, in ‘La realtà cittadina nei territori canossiani’, Studi matildici, Atti e Memorie del III Convegno di Studi matildici (Reggio Emilia, 7-9 ottobre 1977) (Modena, 1978), pp. 55-78, at pp. 62-3; Schwartz, Die Besetzung der Bistümer Reichsitaliens, p. 186; Guenza, ‘Pastori e signori’, pp. 52-8. 37 V. Fumagalli, ‘Per la storia di un grande possesso canossiano nel Parmense: La corte di “Vilinianum”’, Quellen und Forschungen aus italienschen archiven und Bibliotheken 49 (1968), pp. 73-94, at pp. 89-91; H.H. Anton, ‘Bonifaz von Canossa, Markgraf von Tuszien, und die Italienpolitik der frühen Salier’, Historische Zeitschrift 24.3 (1972), pp. 529-56, at p. 533; V. Fumagalli, ‘Il potere civile dei vescovi italiani al tempo di Ottone I’, in C.G. Mor and H. Schmidinger (eds.), I Poteri Temporali dei Vescovi in Italia e in Germania nel Medioevo (Bologna, 1979), pp. 77-86, at pp. 77-9; R. Rinaldi, ‘Da Adalberto Atto a Bonifacio. Note e riflessioni per l’edizione di un Codice Diplomatico Canossano prematildico’, Bullettino dell’Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo e Archivio Muratoriano 101 (1997), pp. 13-91, at pp. 58-9. 38 F. Fagani, ‘I Bernardingi conti di Pavia poi conti di Sospiro e Rovescala – I Bernardingi conti di Parma e Pavia’, Bollettino della società pavese di storia patria 7 (1955), pp. 142-62; Schumann, Authority and the Commune, pp. 39-43. 39 J.K. Hyde, Society and Politics in Medieval Italy: The Evolution of Civil Life, 1000-1350 (London, 1973), p. 69; Guenza, ‘Pastori e signori’, pp. 47-8. 40 R. Houghton, ‘While the Bishop’s Away…: Absentee Bishops of Parma during the Investiture Conflict’, in F. Lachaud and M. Penman (eds.), Absentee Authority across Medieval Europe (S.l.,

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sat within the broader relationship and power networks of Italy and the Empire and could be influenced dramatically by pivotal events such as the conflict between Aribert and Conrad. A reconsideration of these structures of power informs our knowledge of the identities and motivations of the rioters in 1037. Boniface’s relationship with the Emperor was more nuanced than is typically allowed. It is generally assumed that Boniface was always a strong supporter of Conrad and that this loyalty was rewarded extravagantly by the Emperor.41 Boniface is often presented as the hero of the Parmense riot, arriving to rescue the Emperor, an account based on Donizone’s assertion that Boniface was integral to the defeat of the rioters. 42 However, Donizone’s account of the riot almost certainly exaggerates Boniface’s role in order to strengthen Matilda’s position. 43 More generally, there is little evidence for a strong relationship between Conrad and Boniface until July 1036, when Boniface appears in the imperial charters for the first time. 44 From this point until Conrad’s death in 1039 Boniface appears in close proximity to the Emperor, hosting an imperial court session and receiving the epithets ‘our beloved margrave’ (‘nostri diecti marchionis’) and ‘our most faithful margrave’ (‘nostri fidelissimi marchionis’) within a pair of imperial charters. 45 But even at this point Boniface was not allowed unrestrained authority. Conrad took several steps to balance the Margrave even as he was empowered, issuing a series of charters to key figures and institutions in and around Canossan territory. 46 Many of these recipients had previously competed with Boniface for lands and power and the documents were a statement of Conrad’s support for their autonomy as well as his own authority to intervene in the region. This all represented a significant restructuring of the imperial relationship network, with an enhanced role for Boniface, but

2017); Albini, ‘Vescovo, comune’, pp. 67-9; G. Drei, Le carte degli archivi parmensi del secoli X-XI, 2 vols, 1 (Parma, 1928), pp. 20, 51, 64, 75, 76, 89, 102, 105, 129, 135, 157. 41 Violante, ‘Aspetti della politica italiana’, pp. 167-72; Zimmermann, ‘I Signori di Canossa’, p. 416; Golinelli, ‘L’Italia’, p. 511; Eads, ‘The Geography of Power’, pp. 357-8. 42 Golinelli, ‘Donizone e il suo poema per Matilde’, bk. 1 ln. 843-86; Fasoli, ‘La realtà cittadina’, p. 62; Schumann, Authority and the Commune, pp. 145-6. 43 Nobili, ‘L’Ideologia Politica in Donizone’, p. 272. 44 Anton, ‘Bonifaz von Canossa’, p. 355; R. Houghton, ‘Reconsidering Donizone’s Vita Mathildis (again): Boniface of Canossa and the Emperor Conrad II’, Storicamente (Forthcoming). 45 H. Bresslau (ed.), ‘Die Urkunden Konrads II’, in ‘Die Urkunden Konrads II’, Die Urkunden Konrads II, Mit Nachträgen zu den Urkunden Heinrichs II, Diplomata regum et imperatorum Germaniae 4 (Hannover, 1909), nos. 231, 246, 258, 259. 46 Bresslau (ed.), ‘K2’, nos. 226, 227, 235, 236, 247, 248, 256, 263, 274.

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Boniface remained a single component of this network: he was not raised to the position of viceroy in Italy. The timing of this shift was not coincidental. Boniface was drawn closer to the imperial court just as Aribert of Milan, the other leading power in the region fell from grace. Aribert’s removal may have been planned, there are certainly signs that Conrad was preparing to move against the Archbishop before embarking on his second expedition into Italy,47 but in any event his absence from the imperial relationship network required a major reorganisation. Boniface’s empowerment was a part of this reorganisation. 48 The relationship between Hugh, Bishop of Parma, and the Emperor is likewise more complex than is usually allowed. Hugh’s position as imperial chancellor before his installation as Bishop of Parma has been taken as evidence for his loyalty to Conrad.49 However, Hugh’s allegiance needs to be discussed further. While Hugh should be accorded a certain connection with Conrad due to his background, this should not be interpreted as unwavering mutual support between the two during Hugh’s time as Bishop of Parma. Hugh fits the traditional model of a bishop of the ‘Imperial Church System’: figures groomed within the imperial chapel and installed as loyal supporters of the emperor in important sees across the empire.50 But as Reuter and others have demonstrated, the loyalty of these bishops once in office could not be guaranteed: they held a complex range of goals and desires driven in part by a link with the emperor, but also by family connections and the needs of their new diocese.51 Hugh’s prior connection to the Emperor would certainly form a factor in his future behaviour, but this was not evidence of an indestructible alliance between the two. 47 H.E.J. Cowdrey, ‘Archbishop Aribert of Milan’, History 51 (1966), pp. 1-15, at p. 8; S. Reynolds, Fiefs and Vassals: The Medieval Evidence Reinterpreted (Oxford; New York, N.Y, 1994), p. 199. 48 Houghton, ‘Reconsidering Donizone’s Vita Mathildis (Again)’. 49 Schwartz, Die Besetzung der Bistümer Reichsitaliens, p. 186; Schumann, Authority and the Commune, pp. 145-6. 50 J. Fleckenstein, Die Hofkapelle im Rahmen der ottonisch-salischen Reichskirche, MGH Scriften 16.2 (Stuttgart, 1966), pp. 40-7; Santifaller, Zur Geschichte des ottonisch-salischen Reichskirchensystems, pp. 44-9; Schumann, Authority and the Commune, pp. 146-7. 51 G. Althoff and H. Keller, Heinrich I. und Otto der Grosse: Neubeginn auf karolingischem Erbe, Persönlichkeit und Geschichte Bd. 122/123-124/125 (Göttingen, 1985), pp. 217-22; E. Hlawitschka, Vom Frankenreich zur Formierung der europäischen Staaten- und Völkergemeinschaft, 840-1046: ein Studienbuch zur Zeit der späten Karolinger, der Ottonen und der frühen Salier in der Geschichte Mitteleuropas (Darmstadt, 1986), pp. 212-5; T. Reuter, Germany in the Early Middle Ages, c. 800-1056 (London, 1991), pp. 156-8; J.W. Bernhardt, Itinerant Kingship and Royal Monasteries in Early Medieval Germany: c. 936-1075, Cambridge Studies in Medieval Life and Thought 4th ser., 21 (Cambridge, 1993), pp. 27-8.

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Likewise, Hugh’s receipt of the rights of the count of Parma (the comitatus) from Conrad in 1036 has been used to underline this supposedly close tie.52 However, the grant of the comitatus was not an unconsidered gift from the Emperor to a loyal vassal but of a careful rebalancing of power in the region. Hugh’s receipt of the comitatus, a series of jurisdictions and rights of tolls and taxation that were traditionally held by the count,53 was not a simple arrangement. A succession of three charters over seven years illustrate the negotiations regarding these rights. Schumann has addressed this issue in some depth,54 but he does not fully highlight certain aspects of the charters or the implications the grant has for our understanding of the balance of power in Parma in the early eleventh century. The issue of the comitatus was f irst raised on 31 December 1029 in Paderborn.55 In most respects it follows the reasonably standard model of Conrad’s imperial charters, with conventional opening and petition clauses. The charter refers to the whole of the comitatus of Parma, within and beyond the city as described by the ancient lands and boundaries which he morally holds: ‘Totum comitatum Parmensem tam infra urbem quam extra per circuitum secundum priscos fines illius et descriptionis terminos, prout actenus moraliter habebatur.’56 Essentially, this document promised control of the comitatus throughout the diocese to Hugh. However, there is one important clause in this document which is unique within Conrad’s diplomata. This is the specification that the comitatus would only be transferred to the bishop on the death of Count Bernard (of Parma), son of Wido, and only then if he should die without a legitimate son by his wife Ita: ‘[P]ost decessum videlicet Bernardi comitis Vuidonis, nisi forte de coniuge sua Ita nomine filium habuerit masculinum.’57 This clause demonstrates the intent behind the document. Conrad was not simply granting rights to Hugh but, through the use of these conditions, was taking precautions to ensure he retained control of the disposal of the comitatus in the event of Bernard’s death without heir. This formed part of Conrad’s more general strategy of power balancing in Italy and, in particular, allowed him to balance the growing influence of the Canossans.

52 Guenza, ‘Pastori e signori’, p. 59. 53 P. Brancoli Busdraghi, La formazione storica del feudo Lombardo come diritto reale, Testi, studi, strumenti 15 (Spoleto, 1999), pp. 70-5; Schumann, Authority and the Commune, pp. 31-4. 54 Schumann, Authority and the Commune, pp. 43-6. 55 Bresslau (ed.), ‘K2’, no. 143. 56 Bresslau (ed.), ‘K2’, no. 143. 57 Bresslau (ed.), ‘K2’, no. 143; Schumann, Authority and the Commune, p. 44.

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The second document was composed in late May 1035. It claims that it was produced in Bamberg, but it only exists in the bishop’s register in Parma and is unsigned.58 Unlike its counterpart from 1029, this document follows an unusual opening clause which is altogether humbler than Conrad typically used. The request clause is omitted entirely, a very different punishment clause is employed, and an unusual format is used for the protection clause stating that if anyone should move against these ordinances regarding the holy church to take away the comitatus now or in the future, the king and emperor will vigorously oppose them.59 This is quite distinct from the clause employed in 1029 which used the standard list of officials who would not be allowed to obstruct the benefice of the church in control of the comitatus.60 The extensive differences and omissions of the 1035 text when compared to that of 1029 or Conrad’s charters in general, combined with its presence only in the Parman bishop’s register (and unsigned even there), suggest that the document was not composed by the imperial court. It appears to have been drafted by Hugh or one of his subordinates for presentation to the emperor. Further, the lack of evidence to the contrary suggests that it was never given imperial sanction.61 There are two notable differences between the rights granted by the 1029 document and requested by that of 1035. The first of these is the absence of any mention of Count Bernard. Bernard was still alive: he entered the monastery of San Giovanni in Parma by 24 May 1037 when he appeared representing the monks as a recipient of a charter.62 Schumann has suggested that Bernard’s departure from the secular world was sufficient to fulfil the terms of the 1029 agreement: the count was not dead, but had effectively removed himself from the secular world and the possibility of producing a legitimate male heir.63 The document of 1035 suggests that Bishop Hugh argued that this was the case. The last reference to Bernard as Count of Parma appeared in the 1029 document to the bishop. Hence, it is entirely possible that Bernard had entered the monastery by May 1035. The appearance 58 Bresslau (ed.), ‘K2’, no. 218. 59 ‘Si quis ergo, quod absit, huius nostre constitutionis iussa contempnens praescriptam sacrosanctam ecclesiam de praescripto comitatu disvestire vel apud futuros reges et imperatores qualibet praesumpserit suggestione nocere, mille auri librarum obnoxius sua pro praesumptione subiacebit, immo etiam, quod auferre nostra contra statuta voluerit, etsi quodlibet inde munimen habuerit, nullas vires nullumque vigorem habere constabit.’ Bresslau (ed.), ‘K2’, no. 218. 60 Bresslau (ed.), ‘K2’, no. 143. 61 Schumann, Authority and the Commune, pp. 44-5. 62 Bresslau (ed.), ‘K2’, no. 243. 63 Schumann, Authority and the Commune, p. 44.

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of the 1035 document certainly suggests that he had done so, quite probably in early 1035, as it is unlikely that Hugh would have waited long to press his claims. Hugh’s desire to receive confirmation of the comitatus was probably fuelled by the fact that while Bernard apparently had no sons, he did have a daughter, Imilda, who would appear in a charter on 15 October 1041 bequeathing lands to the cathedral of Parma.64 While female claimants to public offices in Italy were rare, a number of notable exceptions did exist. Adelaide of Susa, the last of the Arduinici, had become Marchioness of Turin in 1034 for example.65 Hugh may well have been anxious to secure the comitatus swiftly so as to avoid conflict over the issue with Imilda and any potential husband. The second key difference regards the boundaries of the region over which the bishop would exercise the comitatus. In contrast to the earlier document, the 1035 document defines the boundaries of the comitatus as between the Po and the mountains and to the boundaries of the bishopric of Parma but also the territory located in the bishoprics of Piacenza and Reggio and beyond these limits all the curtes that pertain to the comitatus.66 This second document therefore claimed rights over a greater region: the entire diocese of Parma, but also lands outside this diocese which fell within the county of Parma. While the diocese was encompassed by the county, a significant portion of the county was outside the diocese, including a region in the south of the diocese of Reggio (Bismantova) and a small area in the east of Piacenza.67 This reference in the 1035 document to lands in bishoprics of Piacenza and Reggio demonstrates that Hugh or his representatives sought to extend the boundaries of the comitatus already promised to the bishopric of Parma. In combination these differences show an attempt by Hugh in May 1035 not only to secure the rights promised in 1029, but to have these rights extended. However, the lack of a signature or seal on the document and its existence only in the bishop’s register demonstrates that this confirmation 64 G. Drei, Le carte degli archivi parmensi del secoli X-XI, 2 vols, 2 (Parma, 1928), no. 74. 65 F. Navire, Torino come centro di sviluppo culturale: un contributo agli studi della civiltà italiana, Sprachen, Literaturen, Kulturen Bd. 1 (Frankfurt am Main ; New York, 2009), p. 49. 66 ‘[A] Pado usque ad Alpes et a termino illo, quo divisio est inter praedictum episcopatum et episcopatum Placentinum, usque ad terminum illum, quo divisio praefati Parmensis episcopatus et Regensis est – et extra praescriptum Parmensem episcopatum sunt iste curtes ad praedictum comitatum pertinentiis earum.’ Bresslau (ed.), ‘K2’, no. 218. 67 Schumann, Authority and the Commune, pp. 44-5; G. Rubini, ‘Per una Riconsiderazione della “Medievale partizione plebana” della diocesi di Mantova. Prime Acquisizioni’, in G.P. Brogiolo, G. Andenna, and R. Salvarani (eds.), Le origini della diocesi di Mantova e le sedi episcopali dell’Italia settentrionale, IV-XI secolo, Antichità altoadriatiche 63 (Trieste, 2006), pp. 273-91.

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and extension was not approved by the emperor. Conrad, it appears, would not be pressured into extending Hugh’s rights. Again, Hugh was not promoted to an exceptional degree. The final document was issued in Augsburg on 15 February 1036.68 Its text is fundamentally the same as that of the 1029 charter with only minor changes in noun order and spelling. The only significant difference between the two documents is the omission in the latter of any reference to Count Bernard, probably on account of his withdrawal into the monastic life. In place of the earlier condition clause, the 1036 charter simply states that Conrad wholly grants and strongly and absolutely reaffirms his earlier grant of the rights (of comitatus): ‘[I]ntegre largimur atque nostre anterioris concessionis auctoritatem absolute et firmiter corroboramus.’69 As there is no reference to the extended boundaries mentioned in the 1035 document it must be assumed that this grant referred only to the comitatus within the diocese of Parma as defined in 1029.70 The appearance of a series of counts of Parma in the following decades who appear most active within Bismantova confirms that the grant of 1036 did not incorporate the entirety of the county. Although this was still a substantial grant and strengthened Hugh’s position, the rejection of his request for an extension of these rights to the entire county suggests that his relationship with the emperor was not as close as is generally thought. The timing of this grant coincides closely with Conrad’s preparations to enter Italy. As was the case with Boniface’s more prominent position within Conrad’s charters and relationship network, Hugh’s receipt of the comitatus formed part of Conrad’s rearrangement of the structures of power in Italy prior to his intervention against Aribert of Milan. Hugh was confirmed in these wide ranging, but geographically restricted, rights to challenge Aribert and to balance Boniface’s more prominent role. At the same time, this charter was a declaration of Conrad’s right to intervene in Italy and to dispose of the public offices of the kingdom, asserting his authority in preparation for his forthcoming expedition. The restriction of these rights to the diocese of Parma and installation of a cadet branch of the Canossan family as counts of Parma, holding the comitatus in Bismantova, represents a further fine tuning of this system of checks and balances. Conrad’s move against Aribert also led to a reorganisation of the imperial relationship network further down the social spectrum. This is demonstrated 68 Bresslau (ed.), ‘K2’, no. 226. 69 Bresslau (ed.), ‘K2’, no. 226. 70 Schumann, Authority and the Commune, p. 45.

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most prominently through the creation of the constitutio de feudis issued near Milan on 28 May 1037.71 On the most fundamental level, the document empowered the milites of Milan through augmented rights to land (they could no longer be evicted from their precaria without good reason) and inheritance (the passage of their precaria to their legitimate sons could not be blocked). The document also laid out a legal connection between the milites and Conrad and his successors, guaranteeing them the right of appeal to the emperor or his representatives. This created a formal link between Conrad and a group of landholders normally under the jurisdiction of the magnates of Italy – the lay and ecclesiastical nobility. Through this document Conrad claimed the right to intervene legally in the affairs of his magnates solely on the basis of complaints raised by those who held land from them. In 1037 this undermined Aribert’s authority, but in the longer term this provided the Emperor with new method by which to influence his magnates.72 Many of these rights had been granted to groups in individual cities prior to this point. Over the preceding century, the habitatores of Genoa, cives of Cremona, arimanni of Mantua and homines of Savona had received imperial diplomata guaranteeing various rights including protections of benefices and inheritance.73 These documents implied a right to legal recourse direct to the emperor or his representatives. However, the constitutio was the first unilateral declaration of such rights.74 As such, the document was a geographically massive and unprecedented claim to authority across Italy. Moreover, the constitutio fundamentally changed the ideology behind the relationship structures of Northern Italy. Previously connections between the emperor and holders of precaria were the exception, granted to individual cities as statements of imperial authority and balances of local power. The breadth of this document changed, in theory, the rights of a significant proportion of the population of Italy while undermining the claims of the 71 Bresslau (ed.), ‘K2’, no. 244. 72 Reynolds, Fiefs and vassals, p. 203. 73 L. Schiaparelli (ed.), ‘I Diplomi di Berengario II’, in ‘I Diplomi di Berengario II’, I Diplomi di Ugo e di Lothario di Berengario II e di Adalberto, Fonti per la Storia d’Italia 38 (Rome, 1924), no. 11; T. Sickel (ed.), ‘Die Urkunden Otto des III’, in ‘Die Urkunden Otto des III’, Die Urkunden Otto des II und Otto des III, Diplomata regum et imperatorum Germaniae 2 (Hannover, 1893), no. 198; H. Bresslau (ed.), ‘Die Urkunden Heinrichs II’, in ‘Die Urkunden Heinrichs II’, Die Urkunden Heinrichs II und Arduin, Diplomata regum et imperatorum Germaniae 3 (Hannover, 1900), nos. 278, 303. 74 Brancoli Busdraghi, La formazione storica del feudo Lombardo come diritto reale, pp. 76-93; Keller, Adelsherrschaft und städtische Gesellschaft, pp. 251-302; Tabacco, The Struggle for Power, p. 184.

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bishops and other magnates over this group and would form the basis of challenges to this authority over the next two centuries.75 The practical changes wrought by the constitutio are more debateable, but this change in ideology manifested in challenges to the political status quo. A charter of Ubald, Bishop of Cremona, to Adelbert son of Roland on 17 October 1046 explicitly refers to the constitutio: through the document Ubald is granted beneficium with the hereditary rights ordained by Lord Conrad at the siege of Milan for all kinds of valvassores, both great and small who served their lords: ‘Et ipse Adelbertus habeat predictum beneficium et suorum heredibus iusta quod domnus Chuonradus gloriosissimus imperator constituit in obsidio Mediolanensis a vavassoribus ad maioribus et minoribus omnimodis servientibus ad senioribus.’76 This demonstrates that the constitutio, or at least the ideas contained within it, enjoyed some circulation. Furthermore, two near contemporary copies of the constitutio exist, one held in Cremona and the other in Montecassino, suggesting that its distribution was reasonably widespread.77 There is not such explicit evidence for the influence of the constitutio in Parma. However, the creation of the document does coincide with a trend towards greater economic activity on the part of the population of Parma. There is little reason to think that news of the document did not reach Parma: the city was not far from Milan or Cremona and sat on major routes to both cities;78 the families at this social level regularly intermarried across the region;79 the gathering of forces to oppose Aribert would only have increased the frequency of these contacts. As such, it is almost unthinkable that knowledge of the contents of the constitutio did not spread to Parma fairly rapidly. Even if the contents were not formally enforced, the existence of the document provided legal, if shaky, grounds for those identified as valvassores to demand a greater share of political power. In sum, the political situation in Parma in 1037 was very much in flux. The role of the count had been subsumed by the bishop. Boniface of Canossa had been drawn closer to the imperial court. The constitutio de feudis challenged a core aspect of the political system and implied a greater political and legal role for a group who held lands from the bishop. None of these grants 75 Keller, Adelsherrschaft und städtische Gesellschaft, pp. 358-60; P. Grillo, Cavalieri e popoli in armi: le istituzioni militari nell’Italia medievale, Quadrante Laterza 142 (Roma, 2008), p. 59. 76 C. Manaresi (ed.), I placiti del ‘Regnum Italiae’, Fonti per la Storia d’Italia 97 (Rome, 1960), no. 366. 77 Bresslau (ed.), ‘K2’, no. 244. 78 Hyde, Society and Politics, p. 69; Guenza, ‘Pastori e signori’, pp. 47-8. 79 Keller, Adelsherrschaft und städtische Gesellschaft, pp. 197-250.

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were the result of imperial magnanimity towards loyal servants but instead reflected attempts to stabilise the power structures in Parma and Italy during a period of crisis. This is a marked contrast to the typical presentation and these nuances do a great deal to explain the motivations of the riot.

Identity of the Rioters The rioters in Parma in 1037 have generally been portrayed as a bounded social ordo or selection of ordines, but their precise composition has been debated. Falce assumed that the 1037 riot in Parma was undertaken by the same ordo as the riot in Milan earlier that year, presenting a revolt of the valvassores and populus of Parma against the capitanei and the bishop.80 More recent authors have retained an image of clearly distinguished ordines in Parma, but have challenged Falce’s account. Schumann sees the participants in the riot as excluding those he terms the milites (the valvassores and capitanei of Keller’s model) entirely and instead concludes that the riot was instigated by a combination of two distinct groups: the landholding cives and an unnamed class of artisans.81 In particular, he notes Donizone’s reference to a baker participating in the violence as evidence of the presence of a class of artisans amongst the rioters.82 He suggests that the division within the city came between the bishop and the cives, rather than the bishop and the milites because of a close relationship between the bishop and his vassals leading to greater burdens being placed on the cives while they remained excluded from political power.83 To support his argument he notes the reports of the rioters locking the gates of the city and suggests that this was done to prevent the milites, a group he views as based primarily outside the city due to their more sizable landholdings, from coming to the aid of the king.84 Albini likewise sees the 1037 riot as being led by a group outside the bishop’s clients (the milites), linking the terms cives and urbani with the populus as described by Keller.85 However, such a stratified interpretation of the social structure in Parma in 1037, and therefore of the identity and goals of the rioters, is inappropriate and fails to demonstrate the nuances of power in the city. Falce, Schumann 80 Falce, Bonifacio di Canossa, p. 65. 81 Schumann, Authority and the Commune, pp. 203-5. 82 Schumann, Authority and the Commune, p. 205. 83 Schumann, Authority and the Commune, p. 203. 84 Schumann, Authority and the Commune, p. 205. 85 Albini, ‘Vescovo, comune’, p. 69.

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and Albini base their social models largely on readings of the political situation portrayed by the narrative sources. Wipo’s Gesta Chuonradi refers to a great riot which took place between the Germans and the cives Parmenses. The Hildesheim Annals refer to the rioters as urbani while Donizone refers to them variously as plebes, cives and iuvenes urbis. These terms are all frequently associated with the lower levels of Keller’s model. But these interpretations are unsound: there is relatively little evidence for the social systems these modern authors suggest, and the terminology which forms the basis of his account can be better explained as a result of the political needs of the authors of the narrative texts. There is no evidence that any of the terms plebes, urbani or cives were in use in Parma in the early eleventh century. A relatively large number of documents appear in the episcopal records of the city which refer to individuals identified as being of the city of Parma (de civitate Parmense) over the course of the eleventh century, but these individuals are not identified as cives.86 Instead they appear occasionally as liberi homines or more frequently simply as de civitate Parmense or de Parmense. The first reference to cives of Parma in the diplomatic records appears on 14 December 1081 when several cives are mentioned as witnesses in an imperial court case involving the canons of the city.87 Even after 1081 cives does not appear in the local documentation for Parma. Likewise, urbani and plebes do not appear at all in the diplomatics relating to Parma for the eleventh century. The recurring appearances of de civitate Parmense in the episcopal documents suggest that there was a certain commonality of purpose associated with this term but it does not follow that those who identified themselves as de civitate Parmense would view themselves as cives, plebes or urbani. All of these terms appear to have been externally applied and employed by authors with a need to present the events of the riots and the participants in these events in a certain manner. Furthermore, these externally imposed terms were fluid: different terms were often used to refer to the same perceived ordo. This is demonstrated most clearly in a series of three charters issued to the Mantuans across the eleventh century. The first of these documents, produced in 1014, gave rights to the arimanni (a term generally associated with the milites) of the city.88 The second, issued in 1055, granted fundamentally similar rights to those 86 Drei, CAP2, nos. 20, 51, 64, 75, 76, 89, 102, 105, 129, 135, 157. 87 H. Bresslau (ed.), Die Urkunden Heinrichs IV, Diplomata regum et imperatorum Germaniae 6 (Hannover, 1909), no. 341. 88 Bresslau (ed.), ‘H2’, no. 278.

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identified as cives videlicit arimanni (the cives who are called arimanni).89 The final document, produced in 1091, again issued fundamentally similar rights but referred only to the cives.90 The motivation behind the variable use of these terms was complex, but, in Mantua at least, was based on the political needs of the emperor at the time: referring to the recipients as arimanni made claims to authority on the basis of a Lombard and Carolingian inheritance, while the use of cives made a stronger connection to Rome and Empire.91 Similar documents granting similar rights to groups within other Italian cities in the first sixty years of the eleventh century made use of a wide variety of terms to denote their recipients: the cives of Cremona, homines of Savona, civitas of Modena, and populus of Ferrara were granted such charters.92 The Imperial court was flexible in its use of these terms in order to suit the rhetoric required for a particular document. This elastic use of language extended to descriptions of groups as valvassores. The rights enshrined in the charters to individual cities very often bore a strong resemblance to those granted more generally in the constitution de feudis. This liquid terminology undermines any concept of a rigid societal structure in this period. Cives, valvassores, populus, and so forth did not refer to defined social groups in this period. They were more typically externally imposed terms used interchangeably depending on the needs of the author. This flexibility also appears in the narrative sources for this period. Wipo draws a connection between valvassores and populus on two occasions. When describing the reason for Conrad’s second expedition to Italy, Wipo refers to the great turmoil, unheard of in modern times which was occurring in Italy because of the conspiracies the populus were making against their princes; as all the valvassores had conspired against their lords and all the lesser nobility (minores) against the greater nobility (maiores): ‘Item eodem tempore magna et modernis temporibus inaudita confusio facta est Italiae propter coniurationes, quas fecerat populus contra principes. Coniuraverant enim omnes valvasores Italiae et gregarii milites adversus dominos suos et omnes minores contra maiores.’93 Later, Wipo indicates that the January riot 89 H. Bresslau (ed.), Die Urkunden Heinrichs III, Diplomata regum et imperatorum Germaniae 5 (Berlin, 1931), no. 356. 90 Bresslau (ed.), H4, no. 421. 91 R. Houghton, ‘The Vocabulary of Groups in Eleventh Century Mantua’, Early Medieval Europe 24 (4) (2016), pp. 448-77. 92 Sickel (ed.), ‘O3’, no. 198; Bresslau (ed.), ‘H2’, no. 303; Bresslau (ed.), H3, nos. 250, 251. 93 Wipo, ‘Gesta Chuonradi II Imperatoris’, in W. Trillmich and R. Büchner (eds.), Fontes saeculorum noni et undecimi historiam ecclesiae Hammaburgensis necnon imperii illustrantes, 11 (Darmstadt, 1978), pp. 507-615, at bk. 34.

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in Milan was caused when the Milanese populus sought to have their rights upheld or expanded by the emperor through their ‘coniuratio’, rendered as ‘covenant’ by Mommsen and Morrison:94 ‘Pene gravis tumultus factus est populi Mediolanensis quarerentis ab imperatore, si vellet favere coniurationi eorum. Unde commotus imperator, praecepit, ut omnes in urbem Papiensem ad generale colloquium convenirent.’95 This coniuratio was initially rebuffed by Conrad but can be seen as a direct cause of the formalisation of the rights of the valvassores of the constitutio de feudis later in the year. This was not Wipo’s only flexible use of these terms. In his subsequent account of Aribert’s resistance against Conrad, Wipo created a juxtaposition between the populus or valvassores on one hand and the cives of Milan on the other. The populus-valvassores were established as the opponents of the archbishop and the new allies of the emperor. Against them Wipo portrays the cives of Milan who remained loyal to the archbishop, indicating that they laid waste to all that belonged to Ambrose (Conrad’s intended replacement for Aribert), and preserved their archbishop with honour until he died ‘Cives Mediolanenses, quicquid habuit idem Ambrosius in illorum territorio, demoliebantur et suum archiepiscopum Heribertum usque obitum eius cum honore retinuerunt’.96 While the involvement of the lower orders of Milanese society in support of the archbishop is generally accepted by modern and contemporary authors, they did not act alone: Aribert mobilised his supporters across the social spectrum within the diocese.97 Wipo, despite his knowledge of these events simply referred to this diverse group of supporters as cives. To Wipo, this term did not set out a distinct social group. It was simply convenient to distinguish one party of Italians from another. This distinction between the valvassores as allies of the king and the cives as his enemies has important connotations for our understanding of Wipo’s depiction of events in Parma. It is reasonable to assume that his use of cives to refer to the rioters in Parma was designed to indicate a similar group to the cives in Milan. This suggests that he viewed the rioters as, or at least wanted to present them as, a group which was distinct from the valvassores. If, as is likely, Wipo was aware of the Constitutio de feudis then he would be aware that Conrad had aligned himself with a group in Milan identified as the valvassores by the constitutio. Wipo’s earlier description of 94 Mommsen and Morrison (eds.), Imperial Lives and Letters, p. 93. 95 Wipo, ‘Gesta Chuonradi II Imperatoris’, bk. 36. 96 Wipo, ‘Gesta Chuonradi II Imperatoris’, bk. 36. 97 P. Contamine, War in the Middle Ages, trans. M. Jones (New York, 1984), p. 40; Cowdrey, ‘Archbishop Aribert of Milan’, p. 12; Grillo, Cavalieri e popoli in armi, pp. 58-9; Tabacco, The Struggle for Power, p. 184.

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the resistance of the Milanese cives in support of their bishop places the cives as enemies of the emperor. Cives therefore became the obvious term for him to use when describing a further attack on the emperor in Parma. It seems that Wipo’s depiction of the rioters had less to do with his knowledge of their identity and was based more on his desire to present them as opponents of the emperor, hence they are identified with the rebellious cives rather than the loyal valvassores. Wipo’s use of cives was connected to the resurgence of claims to a Roman heritage as a cornerstone of imperial authority within the empire in the early eleventh century.98 The writings of Burchard of Worms, and especially his Decretum, which promoted the use of Roman law as the basis for the practice and terminology of canon law are of particular importance in this case.99 Burchard’s Decretum was produced between 1012 and 1023 and rapidly circulated across Germany in the 1020s, penetrating into Italy and Burgundy by the mid-eleventh century.100 Wipo, through his position within the royal chapel, was well placed to have encountered Burchard’s work or any of a growing number of other texts drawing on Roman law that were circulating at this time.101 Given Wipo’s goal of eulogising Conrad and presenting an ideal of imperial rule it is more than likely that he would use the terms and formulas associated with Roman law and traditions.102 This manifested in the use of cives to describe the rioters in 1037 which drew on ideas of the imperial duty to protect the cives but, more significantly in this case, on the corresponding duty of the cives to obey the emperor. By presenting the rioters in this way, Wipo could demonstrate Conrad behaving in a manner befitting his ideal emperor. When faced with disobedient cives, Conrad defeated them and returned them to their correct and obedient place. 98 P. Stein, Roman Law in European history (New York, 1999), p. 42; G. Mousourakis, The Historical and Institutional Context of Roman Law, Laws of the Nations Eeries (Burlington, 2003), p. 423; C. Radding and A. Ciaralli, The Corpus Iuris Civilis in the Middle Ages: Manuscripts and Transmission from the Sixth Century to the Juristic Revival, Brill’s Studies in Intellectual History v. 147 (Leiden; Boston, 2007), pp. 103-9; Houghton, ‘The Vocabulary of Groups’, pp. 467-9. 99 G. Austin, Shaping Church Law Around the Year 1000: The Decretum of Burchard of Worms, Church, Faith, and Culture in the Medieval West (Farnham; Burlington, 2009), p. 235; C. Rolker, Canon Law and the Letters of Ivo of Chartres (Cambridge, 2009), p. 61. 100 J.S.H. Gibaut, ‘The Peregrinations of Canon 13 of the Council of Sardica’, in R.E. Reynolds, K.G. Cushing, and R. Gyug (eds.), Ritual, Text, and Law: Studies in Medieval Canon Law and Liturgy Presented to Roger E. Reynolds, Church, Faith, and Culture in the Medieval West (Aldershot, 2004), pp. 141-60, at p. 153; Austin, Shaping Church Law Around the Year 1000, pp. 20, 26; Rolker, Canon Law and the Letters of Ivo of Chartres, p. 61. 101 Mommsen and Morrison (eds.), Imperial Lives and Letters, p. 42. 102 Mommsen and Morrison (eds.), Imperial Lives and Letters, pp. 43-4.

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Donizone had similar motivations behind his use of cives in relation to this riot. Writing in the early twelfth century he certainly had access to documents relating to the resurgent Roman law.103 Matilda’s court gave him connections to various key canon lawyers and polemicists of the early twelfth century including John of Mantua, Anselm II of Lucca, Heribert of Reggio Emilia and Ranger of Lucca who made extensive use of these recovered documents, alongside the Bible, as a means to justify Matilda’s position against the emperor.104 His use of cives to describe the rioters in Parma can be seen as part of a broader technique of presenting Matilda and her family as rulers more suited to governing the empire than the Salians through his depiction of her family acting as guardians of the kingdom.105 In his account of the riot in Parma it is Boniface who deals with the rebellious cives, acting in the role which should have been played by Conrad.106 There is therefore little evidence of social stratification in Parma along the lines of that presented by Schumann and others at the time of the riot. The charter sources for the period demonstrate a concept of urban identity but they give no indication of clear-cut divisions. The narrative sources made use of terms frequently associated with ordines but did so in a flexible manner dictated by the needs of their narrative and rhetoric. As such, the rioters should be viewed as a more porous and amorphous group than is typically accepted without a strong identity along the lines of ordo.

Causes of the Riot These reassessments of the political and social situation within Parma in the early eleventh century allow a reconsideration of the causes of the riot in 1037. The standard accounts of an attack on imperial authority or on an overmighty bishop are incomplete and inadequate. Instead, the impetus behind the 1037 was born of the political situation in Parma and Italy: a combination of the extension of the power of the bishop through the grant of the comitatus and the issue of the constitutio to the valvassores of Italy and the implications of this document for the legal position of this group in Parma. 103 Simeoni, ‘La “Vita Mathildis”’, pp. 24-5; Vecchi, ‘Temi e Momenti’, pp. 358-65. 104 Robinson, ‘The Metrical Commentary’, pp. 9-10. 105 Nobili, ‘L’Ideologia Politica in Donizone’, pp. 269-72. 106 Nobili, ‘L’Ideologia Politica in Donizone’, p. 272.

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None of the authors of the narrative sources provide a satisfactory explanation for the outbreak of violence in 1037. The only reference to the motivation for the event appears in the Annales Hildesheimenses which refers to the urbani attacking Conrad with trivial cause: ‘[E]x levi causa.’107 This near silence is in itself unusual. Wipo gives accounts of numerous instances of Italian urban populations rising against Conrad, but universally provides explanations for their actions, even if he does so simply to make a rhetorical point. For example, in his account, the Pavians destroyed the imperial palace in their city because the death of Henry II gave them the opportunity to do so.108 His lack of an explanation for the riot at Parma is therefore particularly noteworthy. Donizone also tended to provide explanations for this sort of incident: he records that in 1091 the Mantuans betrayed his patron Matilda and surrendered to Henry IV because of flaws in their character.109 The lack of rationalisation for the incident is atypical and the Hildesheim annalist’s explanation of a lack of reason for the riot cannot be accepted. Many of the sources present the riot as targeting the king personally. Wipo mentions that Conrad, server of the food of the Emperor (and so a figure within the emperor’s close entourage) was killed with others: ‘Chuonradus, infertor ciborum imperatoris, cum aliis interfectus est.’110 Likewise, the Hildesheim annalist highlights the death of Conrad, Magnus and Suicgerus, all clientes of the king: ‘[I]n quo de exercitu quamplures sed praecipue tres ex clientibus regiis, Chronon, Magnum, Suicgerum, peremerunt.’111 The term cliens could refer simply to vassals of Conrad, but more likely implies a closer relationship, one of a ministerialis or alternatively of a man at arms.112 These later alternatives underline the targeting of the emperor by the rioters. Donizone states outright that the Emperor Conrad was surrounded tightly by the Parmans in order that he could be captured (‘Chonradi cingitur arto ut capiatur’).113 However, it can be readily contended that the German sources suggested that Conrad was the target of the incident because he was the focal point of their narrative. Donizone also presented the emperor 107 G.H. Pertz (ed.), ‘Annales Hildesheimenses’, in ‘Annales Hildesheimenses’, Annales, chronica et historiae aevi Saxonici, Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Scriptores (in Folio) 3 (Hannover, 1839), pp. 90-115, at p. 101. 108 Wipo, ‘Gesta Chuonradi II Imperatoris’, bk. 7. 109 Donizone, Vita Mathildis, P. Golinelli and V. Fumagalli (eds.), Biblioteca di cultura medievale 823 (Milano, 2008), bk. 2, ln. 491-537. 110 Wipo, ‘Gesta Chuonradi II Imperatoris’, bk. 37. 111 Pertz (ed.), ‘Annales Hildesheimenses’, p. 102. 112 J.F. Niermeyer, C. van de Kieft, and J.W.J. Burgers, Mediae Latinitatis lexicon minus (Leiden ; Boston, 2002), p. 191. 113 Donizone, Vita Mathildis, bk. 1, ln. 850-1.

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in peril as a narrative device by which he could present Boniface coming to his aid. As indicated above, the relationship between Conrad and Boniface was not as cordial as is often suggested. This alternative interpretation of the relationship between Boniface and Conrad has a significant impact on the interpretation of Donizone’s account of the riot. Donizone, writing on behalf of Matilda, sought to uphold her claims to land and power in the face of imperial aggression. Thus, he portrayed her predecessors as close allies to the imperial cause while underlining the claim that they had received their lands and rights legally through service to the emperor. Boniface is therefore presented as Conrad’s saviour and a loyal vassal. The presentation of a rising against the emperor himself was used to accomplish the authors’ rhetorical goals. The depiction of the riot targeting the emperor was created by Donizone and by the German authors for their own political ends. Schumann and Albini are therefore right to reject an attack on the emperor as the cause for the riot. Nevertheless, their portrayal of the motivations behind an attack on the bishop is also problematic. As demonstrated above, Schumann’s presentation of the rioters as members of the lower ordines, primarily the cives is insufficient: ordines in this period were fluid and inconsistent, and the terms used to describe a given ordo were flexible and generally led by the political needs of the author. Given a more general social involvement in the riot, the assumption of exclusion from the bishop’s circle as the motivation to riot is insufficient. A more convincing explanation for the riot can be produced based on the connected and conflicting issues of the comitatus and constitutio. The grant of the comitatus to Hugh in 1036 greatly increased the bishop’s jurisdiction within the county of Parma making him the sole recourse in judicial matters, with the occasional exception of any royal missi in the area. Although the movements of these officials are hard to judge they seldom appear in documents relating to Parma in the period preceding the riot. Imperial envoys appear in only three such documents; in 944, 968 and 1000.114 The receipt of the rights contained in the constitutio by the valvassores of Italy, including those in Parma, in 1037, whether by design or accident ran counter to the empowerment of the bishop in the preceding year. The emperor now guaranteed legal recourse to those who could be identified as valvassores, protecting their rights against the recent empowerment of the bishop. In

114 L. Schiaparelli (ed.), ‘I Diplomi di Ugo’, in ‘I Diplomi di Ugo’, I Diplomi di Ugo e di Lothario di Berengario II e di Adalberto, Fonti per la Storia d’Italia 38 (Rome, 1924), no. 75; Drei, CAP, nos. 66, 91.

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Parma, this created a tension between two incompatible legal developments and set the stage for a violent escalation of the kind seen in Milan. The linked issues of the constitutio and the comitatus and their implications for the rights of the milites in Parma came to a head in 1037. The presence of Conrad in the city at the end of the year provided an opportunity for Bishop Hugh to have his control of the comitatus ratified. Conrad’s presence could add weight to any rights he granted, and it was common practice for the emperor to endorse the power of a bishop while staying in his city. At the same time those who stood to benefit from the constitutio had the opportunity to raise their concerns regarding the transfer of the comitatus to the bishop and to request a confirmation of rights similar to those granted to their Milanese counterparts. The coincidental timing of these legal and ideological changes and the riot strongly suggest that the violent incident was born out of the attempts by the rioters to uphold a claim to rights which were at odds with the receipt of the comitatus by the bishop. Therefore, as Falce, Schumann and Albini suggest, the riot demonstrated opposition to the bishop rather than the emperor.115 However, this was not caused by simple exclusion from the bishop’s circle. Instead, the rioters sought to ensure that the position provided by the constitutio de feudis was not rendered moot by the bishop’s control of the comitatus. While Schumann and Albini have highlighted the cause of the riot as the exclusion of a group in Parma from the bishop’s circle, they do not address the issues of the constitutio or the comitatus in this manner. The inclusion of these topics provides a more thorough explanation.

Conclusion The events of the riot in Parma in 1037 can be presented as follows: Conrad, having attempted and failed to deal with Aribert, Archbishop of Milan, entered Parma late in 1037 to celebrate Christmas. A section of the imperial host, including Boniface of Canossa and presumably a number of other key figures, was left camped outside the city. The bishop may have sought to gain a personal confirmation of his claim to the comitatus. Simultaneously, a group within the city sought to receive confirmation of the rights issued in the constitutio de feudis earlier in the year and to overturn or restrict the bishop’s control over the comitatus. These conflicting desires led to the 115 Falce, Bonifacio di Canossa, p. 65; Schumann, Authority and the Commune, p. 203; Albini, ‘Vescovo, comune’, p. 69.

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eruption of violence in much the same manner as the riot in Milan earlier that year. Subsequently the riot would be portrayed as an assault on the emperor by a group which owed him loyalty. This was because the authors who depicted the incident were obliged to present the events in this manner to suit their narrative. A closer investigation of these sources alongside the charter evidence demonstrates that their depiction of the riot is misleading in many respects. This reconsidered account recognises that the relationships between the emperor, the bishops, the key magnates and the so-called cives of Parma were much more involved than either the narrative sources or many modern authors have allowed. The various authors who discussed the incident had political agendas, primarily revolving around upholding the authority of their sponsors. The descriptions of the cives rioting in 1037 were designed to uphold imperial ideals and so to demonstrate the legitimacy of the emperor or the valour of the Canossans. It was for this reason that Donizone and Wipo made use of cives to describe the rioters in 1037: it was a term used in a manner designed to present Boniface or Conrad acting in an imperial manner. It seems that the terms used to describe the rioters were selected primarily for their rhetorical value, not their ability to describe a social group in the city. By presenting the rioters as a group with traditional obligations to the emperor and the bishop, it was possible for the authors of the sources to emphasise the transgression of the rioters against the rightful authority of the emperor. The rhetorical nature of the use of these terms is highlighted by their conspicuous absence in the private and ecclesiastical documents of the period. While there is clear evidence of the use of the city as an identifier in these documents, the language used to describe those who could be connected with the city is very different. The appearance of cives in Parma within these narrative sources does not represent the existence of a group which identified itself as cives but instead is demonstrative of the rhetorical techniques used by the authors of these sources. This approach can be applied to riots and rebellions in other Italian cities which occurred during Conrad’s reign. The uprising in Pavia which began with the destruction of the imperial palace shortly after the death of Henry II in 1024 is generally ascribed to the cives on the basis of Wipo’s account.116 This has led to the presentation of the rebellion as a movement driven by the lower orders of society. However, as Wipo explains that this group sent legates to the emperor to explain their actions, there is reason to doubt this clear-cut explanation. Furthermore, a series of imperial charters produced 116 Wipo, ‘Gesta Chuonradi II Imperatoris’, c. 7.

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during the reign of Henry II demonstrate a restructuring of power in the county through the empowerment of the bishop and count of the city. A closer examination may demonstrate greater nuance to the identity and motivations of the rebels. Likewise, the background to the riot in Ravenna in 1026 has often been overlooked. The previous archbishop, Arnold (1014-1019), was the brother of Henry II and had been granted extensive rights and lands as part of Henry’s attempts to balance the power structures of the region.117 Arnold’s successor, Aribert (1019-1027), had not been supported to the same extent. In fact, in the months preceding the riot, Conrad had very publicly demonstrated the priority of Aribert of Milan during his coronation in Rome: Arnulf goes into the event in some depth.118 These rearrangements of power were set against a background of an increasingly active laity within Ravenna as reflected in the episcopal charters. The riot may therefore represent an attempt by those who could subsequently be identified as valvassores to secure their legal position through the support of the emperor. Even in Milan the situation around the riot may have been more nuanced. Politically, the archbishop was certainly the dominant figure in and around the city, but other figures, such as the marquis of Milan, still exerted influence.119 The riot and subsequent conflict between emperor and archbishop is usually portrayed occurring very much along clearly delineated social lines: the valvassores supported the emperor, while the cives and capitanei remained loyal to the archbishop.120 The complexities behind this pivotal event would benefit from closer investigation. In sum the political networks and social structures within the kingdom of Italy under the rule of Conrad II have often been oversimplif ied. A reconsideration of these systems on the basis of the charter sources can provide a more thorough understanding of the motivations behind popular violence. Riots such as the 1037 incident in Parma should not be explained as simple uprisings by distinct social orders against imperial presence or episcopal power. Instead, they need to be viewed as part of the broader socio-political network, driven in large part by local or regional tensions within this network. 117 A. Vasina, ‘Arnoldo’, in A.M. Ghisalberti (ed.), Dizionario biografico degli Italiani, 4 (Roma, 1971), p. 256, at p. 256; R. Houghton, ‘Reconsidering Donizone’s Vita Mathildis: Boniface of Canossa and Emperor Henry II’, Journal of Medieval History 41.4 (2015), pp. 402-3. 118 Arnulf, Liber gestorum recentium, bk. 2 c. 3-6. 119 Tabacco, The Struggle for Power, p. 183. 120 Tabacco, The Struggle for Power, p. 184.

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Bibliography Primary Sources Arnulf, Liber Gestorum Recentium, Claudia Zey (ed.) (MGH, Scriptores Rerum Germanicarum in Usum Scholarum Separatim Editi 67) (Hannover: Hahnsche Buchhandlung, 1994). Bresslau, Harry (ed.), ‘Die Urkunden Heinrichs II’ in Die Urkunden Heinrichs II und Arduin (Diplomata regum et imperatorum Germaniae 3) (Hannover: MGH, 1900). Bresslau, Harry (ed.), Die Urkunden Heinrichs III (Diplomata regum et imperatorum Germaniae 5) (Berlin: MGH, 1931). Bresslau, Harry (ed.), Die Urkunden Heinrichs IV (Diplomata regum et imperatorum Germaniae 6) (Hannover: MGH, 1909). Bresslau, Harry (ed.), ‘Die Urkunden Konrads II’ in Die Urkunden Konrads II, Mit Nachträgen zu den Urkunden Heinrichs II (Diplomata regum et imperatorum Germaniae 4) (Hannover: MGH, 1909). Donizone, Vita Mathildis, Paolo Golinelli and Vito Fumagalli (eds.) (Milano: Jaca book, 2008). Drei, G., Le Carte Degli Archivi Parmensi Del Secoli X-XI. Vol. 1. 2 vols. (Parma: Fresching 1928). Drei, G., Le Carte Degli Archivi Parmensi Del Secoli X-XI. Vol. 2. 2 vols. (Parma: Fresching 1928). Manaresi, Cesare (ed.), I placiti del Regnum Italiae (FSI 97) (Roma: Palazzo 1960). Pertz, Georg Heinrich (ed.), ‘Annales Hildesheimenses’ in Annales, chronica et historiae aevi Saxonici (MGH, Scriptores (in Folio) 3) (Hannover: MGH, 1839), pp. 90-115. Pertz, Georg Heinrich (ed.), ‘Annales Parmenses minores’ (MGH, Scriptores (in Folio) 18) (Stuttgart: MGH, 1863), pp.662-3. Schiaparelli, Luigi (ed.), ‘I Diplomi di Berengario II’ in I Diplomi di Ugo e di Lothario di Berengario II e di Adalberto (FSI 38) (Roma: Istituto storico italiano, 1924). Schiaparelli, Luigi (ed.), ‘I Diplomi di Ugo’ in I Diplomi di Ugo e di Lothario di Berengario II e di Adalberto (FSI 38) (Roma: Istituto storico italiano, 1924). Sickel, T. (ed.), ‘Die Urkunden Otto des III’ in Die Urkunden Otto des II und Otto des III (Diplomata regum et imperatorum Germaniae 2) (Hannover: MGH, 1893). Wipo, ‘Gesta Chuonradi II Imperatoris’ in Fontes saeculorum noni et undecimi historiam ecclesiae Hammaburgensis necnon imperii illustrantes, Werner Trillmich and Rudolf Büchner (eds.) (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1978), pp. 507-615.

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Secondary Sources Albini, Giuliana, ‘Vescovo, comune: il governo della citta tra XI e XIII secolo’ in Il governo del vescovo: chiesa, città, territorio nel Medioevo parmense, Roberto Greci (ed.) (Parma: Monte Università Parma, 2005), pp. 67-85. Allen, Bethany Hope, ‘The Annals of Hildesheim’ (University of New Hampshire: unpublished PhD thesis, 2007). Althoff, Gerd, and Hagen Keller, Heinrich I. Und Otto Der Grosse: Neubeginn Auf Karolingischem Erbe (Göttingen: Muster-Schmidt, 1985). Anton, Hans Hubert, ‘Bonifaz von Canossa, Markgraf von Tuszien, und die Italienpolitik der frühen Salier’, Historische Zeitschrift 24 (3) (June 1972), pp. 529-56. Austin, Greta, Shaping Church Law Around the Year 1000: The Decretum of Burchard of Worms (Farnham: Ashgate, 2009). Bernhardt, John William, Itinerant Kingship and Royal Monasteries in Early Medieval Germany: 936-1075 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993). Bonacini, Pierpaolo (ed.), ‘Sulle Strade dei Canossa dal Parmense Tutto Intorno’ in Studi Matildici IV Atti e Memorie del Convegno Il territorio parmense da Carlo Magno ai Canossa (Modena: Aedes Muratoriana, 1997), pp. 11-44. Bordone, Renato, La società cittadina del Regno d’Italia: Formazione e sviluppo delle caratteristiche urbane nei secoli XI e XII (Torino: Palazzo Carignano, 1987). Brancoli Busdraghi, Piero, La Formazione Storica Del Feudo Lombardo Come Diritto Reale (Spoleto: CISAM, 1999). Castagnetti, Andrea, La Marca Veronese-Trevigiana (Torino: UTET Università, 1986). Contamine, Philippe, War in the Middle Ages, Michael Jones (trans.) (New York: Blackwell, 1984). Cowdrey, H. E. J., ‘Archbishop Aribert of Milan’ History 51 (1966), pp. 1-15. Eads, Valerie, ‘The Geography of Power: Matilda of Tuscany and the Strategy of Active Defence’ in Crusaders, Condottieri, and Cannon: Medieval Warfare in Societies around the Mediterranean, Donald J. Kagay and L. J. Andrew Villalon (eds.) (Leiden: Brill, 2002), pp. 355-86. Fagani, Flavio, ‘I Bernardingi conti di Pavia poi conti di Sospiro e Rovescala – I Bernardingi conti di Parma e Pavia’ in Bollettino della società pavese di storia patria 7 (1955), pp. 142-62. Falce, Antonio. Bonifacio di Canossa, padre di Matilda (Reggio-Emilia, 1927). Fasoli, Gina, ‘La realtà cittadina nei territori canossiani’ in Studi matildici, Atti e Memorie del III Convegno di Studi matildici (Reggio Emilia, 7-9 ottobre 1977) (Modena: Aedes Muratoriana, 1978), pp.55-78. Fasoli, Gina. ‘Rileggendo la ‘Vita Mathildis’ di Donizone’ in Studi matildici, Atti e Memorie del II Convegno di Studi matildici (Reggio Emilia, 1-3 maggio 1970) (Modena: Aedes Muratoriana, 1971), pp. 15-39.

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Fleckenstein, Josef, Die Hofkapelle Im Rahmen Der Ottonisch-Salischen Reichskirche (MGH Schriften, 16.2) (Stuttgart, 1966). Fumagalli, Vito, ‘I Canossa tra realtà regionale e ambizioni europee’ in Studi matildici, Atti e Memorie del III Convegno di Studi matildici (Reggio Emilia, 7-9 ottobre 1977) (Modena: Aedes Muratoriana, 1978), pp. 27-37. Fumagalli, Vito, ‘Il potere civile dei vescovi italiani al tempo di Ottone I’ in I Poteri Temporali dei Vescovi in Italia e in Germania nel Medioevo, Carlo Guido Mor and Heinrich Schmidinger (eds.) (Bologna: il Mulino, 1979), pp. 77-86. Fumagalli, Vito, ‘Per la storia di un grande possesso canossiano nel Parmense: La corte di ‘Vilinianum’, Quellen und Forschungen aus italienschen archiven und Bibliotheken 49 (1968), pp. 73-94. Gibaut, John St H., ‘The Peregrinations of Canon 13 of the Council of Sardica’ in Ritual, Text, and Law: Studies in Medieval Canon Law and Liturgy Presented to Roger E. Reynolds, Roger E. Reynolds, Kathleen G. Cushing, and Richard Gyug (eds.) (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004), pp. 141-60. Golinelli, Paolo, ‘Donizone’ in DBI 41 Alberto Maria Ghisalberti (ed.) (Roma: Istituto della Enciclopedia italiana, 1992), pp. 200-203. Golinelli, Paolo, ‘Donizone e il suo poema per Matilde’ in Vita di Matilde di Canossa, Paolo Golinelli and Vito Fumagalli (eds.) (Milano: Jaca Book, 2008), pp.ix-xxii. Golinelli, Paolo, ‘Le origini del mito di Matilde e la fortuna di Donizone’ in Matilde di Canossa nelle culture europee del secondo millennio: dalla storia al mito: atti del convegno internazionale di studi (Reggio Emilia, Canossa, Quattro Castella, 25-27 settembre 1997) Paolo Golinelli (ed.) (Bologna: Pàtron, 1999), pp. 29-52. Golinelli, Paolo, ‘L’Italia dopo la lotta per le investiture: la questione dell’eredità matildica’, Studi Medievali, 3, 42 (2) (2001), pp. 509-28. Grillo, Paolo, Cavalieri e popoli in armi: le istituzioni militari nell’Italia medievale (Roma: Laterza, 2008). Grillo, Paolo, Milano in età comunale (1183-1276): istituzioni, società, economia (Spoleto: CISAM, 2001). Guenza, Massimo, ‘Pastori e signori: La grande potenza dei vescovi parmensi’ in Il governo del vescovo: chiesa, città, territorio nel Medioevo parmense, Roberto Greci (ed.) (Parma: Monte Università Parma, 2005), pp. 47-66. Haverkamp, Alfred, Medieval Germany, 1056-1273 (H. Braun and R. Mortimer, trans.) (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1988). Hlawitschka, Eduard, Vom Frankenreich zur Formierung der europäischen Staatenund Völkergemeinschaft, 840-1046: ein Studienbuch zur Zeit der späten Karolinger, der Ottonen und der frühen Salier in der Geschichte Mitteleuropas (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1986). Houghton, Robert, ‘Donizo’ in The Virgil Encyclopaedia, Richard F. Thomas and Jan M. Ziolkowski (eds.) (Chichester: Wiley Blackwell, 2013).

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Houghton, Robert, ‘Reconsidering Donizone’s Vita Mathildis (Again): Boniface of Canossa and the Emperor Conrad II’, Storicamente 13 (2017), pp. 1-24. Houghton, Robert, ‘Reconsidering Donizone’s Vita Mathildis: Boniface of Canossa and Emperor Henry II’, Journal of Medieval History 41 (4) (2015), pp. 388-408. Houghton, Robert, ‘The Vocabulary of Groups in Eleventh Century Mantua’, EME 24 (4) (2016), pp. 448-77. Houghton, Robert, ‘While the Bishop’s Away…: Absentee Bishops of Parma during the Investiture Conflict’ in Absentee Authority Across Medieval Europe, Frederique Lachaud and Michael Penman (eds.) (Boydell Press, 2017), pp. 56-77. Hyde, John Kenneth, Society and Politics in Medieval Italy: The Evolution of Civil Life, 1000-1350 (London: Macmillan, 1973). Keller, Hagen, Adelsherrschaft und städtische Gesellschaft in Oberitalien (9-12. Jahrhundert). (Tübingen: Max Niemeyer Verlag, 1979). Keller, Hagen, ‘Gli inizi del comune in Lombardia: limiti della documentazione e metodi di ricerca’. In L’evoluzione delle città italiane nell’XI secolo, Renato Bordone and Jörg Jarnut (eds.) (Bologna: Il Mulino, 1988), pp. 45-70. Keller, Hagen, Signori e vassalli nell’Italia delle città (secoli IX-XII) (Torino: UTET, 1995). Mommsen, Theodor Ernst, and Karl Frederick Morrison (eds.), Imperial Lives and Letters of the Eleventh Century (New York: Columbia University Press, 1962). Mousourakis, George, The Historical and Institutional Context of Roman Law (Burlington: Ashgate, 2003). Navire, Federico, Torino come centro di sviluppo culturale: un contributo agli studi della civiltà italiana (Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 2009). Niermeyer, Jan Frederik, C. van de Kieft, and J. W. J. Burgers, Mediae Latinitatis Lexicon Minus (Leiden: Brill, 2002). Nobili, Mario, ‘L’Ideologia Politica in Donizone’ in Studi matildici, Atti e Memorie del III Convegno di Studi matildici (Reggio Emilia, 7-9 ottobre 1977) (Modena: Aedes Muratoriana, 1978), pp. 263-79. Pelicelli, N., I vescovi della chiesa parmense (Parma: Stamperia Carmignani, 1936). Radding, Charles, and Antonio Ciaralli, The Corpus Iuris Civilis in the Middle Ages: Manuscripts and Transmission from the Sixth Century to the Juristic Revival (Leiden: Brill, 2007). Reuter, Timothy, Germany in the Early Middle Ages, c. 800-1056 (London: Longman, 1991). Reynolds, Susan, Fiefs and Vassals: The Medieval Evidence Reinterpreted (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994). Rinaldi, Rossella, ‘Da Adalberto Atto a Bonifacio. Note e riflessioni per l’edizione di un Codice Diplomatico Canossano prematildico’, Bullettino dell’Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo e Archivio Muratoriano 101 (1997), pp. 13-91.

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Riversi, Eugenio, La memoria di Canossa: saggi di contestualizzazione della Vita Mathildis di Donizone (Pisa: Edizioni ETS, 2013). Robinson, I. S., ‘The Metrical Commentary on Genesis of Donizo of Canossa: Bible and Gregorian Reform’. Recherches de Théologie Ancienne et Médié 41 (1974), pp. 5-37. Rolker, Christof, Canon Law and the Letters of Ivo of Chartres (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009). Rubini, Giuseppe, ‘Per una Riconsiderazione della “Medievale partizione plebana” della diocesi di Mantova. Prime Acquisizioni’ in Le origini della diocesi di Mantova e le sedi episcopali dell’Italia settentrionale, IV-XI secolo, Gian Pietro Brogiolo, Giancarlo Andenna, and Renata Salvarani (eds.) (Trieste: Editreg, 2006), pp. 273-91. Salvatorelli, Luigi, L’Italia Comunale dal secolo XI alla metà del Secolo XIV (Milano: Mondadori, 1940). Santifaller, Leo, Zur Geschichte Des Ottonisch-Salischen Reichskirchensystems (Wien: Böhlaus Nachf, 1964). Schmale, Franz-Josef, Deutschlands Geschichtsquellen im Mittelalter: Die Zeit Der Sachsen Und Salier (Köln: Böhlau, 1967). Schumann, Reinhold, Authority and the Commune, Parma 833-1133 (Parma: Presso La Deputazione Di Storia Patria Per Le Province Parmensi, 1973). Schwartz, Gerhard, Die Besetzung Der Bistümer Reichsitaliens: Unter Den Sächsischen Und Salischen Kaisern Mit Den Listen Der Bischöfe 951-1122 (Spoleto: CISAM, 1993). Simeoni, L., ‘La Vita Mathildis e il suo valore storico’, Atti e memorie, Regia Deputazione di storia patria per le provincie modenesi, 4 (1927), pp. 18-64. Stein, Peter, Roman Law in European History (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999). Tabacco, Giovanni, ‘Dinamiche sociali e assetti del potere’ in Città e campagna: rapporti politici ed economici (Perugia, 1988), pp. 281-302. Tabacco, Giovanni, The Struggle for Power in Medieval Italy: Structures of Political Rule (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989). Vasina, Augusto, ‘Arnoldo’ in DBI 4, Alberto Maria Ghisalberti (ed.) (Roma: Istituto della Enciclopedia italiana, 1971), p. 256. Vecchi, Giuseppe, ‘Temi e Momenti di Scuola nella Vita Matihildis di Donizone’, Deputazione di storia patria per le antiche provincie modenesi. Atti e memorie, 9 (3) (1963), pp. 358-65. Violante, Cinzio, ‘Aspetti della politica italiana di Enrico III prima della sua discesa in Italia (1039-1046)’, Rivista storica italiana 64 (1952), pp. 157-76. Weinfurter, Stefan, The Salian Century: Main Currents in an Age of Transition (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1999).

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Wickham, Chris, Sleepwalking into a New World: The Emergence of Italian City Communes in the Twelfth Century (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2015). Wolfram, Herwig, Conrad II, 990-1039: Emperor of Three Kingdoms (Denise Adele Kaiser, trans.) (Philadelphia: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2006). Zimmermann, Harald, ‘I Signori di Canossa e l’Impero (da Ottone I a Enrico III)’ in I Poteri dei Canossa, da Reggio Emilia all’Europa: atti del convegno internazionale di studi (Reggio Emilia-Carpineti, 29-31 ottobre 1992), Paolo Golinelli (ed.) (Bologna: Pàtron, 1994), pp. 413-9.

About the Author Robert Houghton is a Lecturer in Early Medieval History at the University of Winchester. His research focusses on the social and political history of the kingdom of Italy c.900 to c.1150 with particular emphasis on representations of urban society and the changing role and ideology of the bishop.

10 The Strange Case of Deusdedit and Pandulf Two Accounts of Honorius II’s Election1 Enrico Veneziani

Abstract The aim of this essay is to illustrate how and why the election of Pope Honorius II (1124-1130) was depicted in two opposing versions, each focusing on elements not found in the other. From Cardinal Deusdedit’s letter dated early 1125, it seems nothing worth mentioning happened during the election. Cardinal Pandulf’s account included in the Liber Pontificalis in the Tortosa manuscript, written between 1133 and 1138, on the other hand, shows lay violence playing a significant role. The chapter will consider the extent to which Pandulf’s involvement in the schism following the death of Honorius and his support for Anacletus II played a part in his hostility towards the dead Pope and why, arguing that Pandulf’s text represented an attack on the election of Innocent II, Anacletus’s rival. Keywords: Honorius II, Papal election, Violence, Pandulf, Anacletus II, Innocent II.

Dearest [friend] and Illustriousness please be aware that I am well and safe and that there can be no doubt that Calixtus of blessed memory departed this life virtuously. Wherefore, God’s remarkable compassion 1 I would like to thank Dr. Christopher Heath and Dr. Rob Houghton first for having organised the session at IMC Leeds 2016 and then asking me to contribute to this book. I also thank Prof. Frances Andrews for her constant support and guidance (which does not end here with this chapter); Prof. Chris Wickham, Prof Glauco Maria Cantarella, and Dr. Francesco Renzi for their useful suggestions; Dr. Maxwell-Stuart for helping me with Latin translations; Dr. Josh Hey, Dr. Cory Hitt, and Dr. Anna Peterson for checking my English.

Heath, C. and R. Houghton (eds.), Conflict and Violence in Medieval Italy 568-1154. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press 2022 doi: 10.5117/9789462985179_ch10

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knew that its Church would not be deprived of its shepherd long, but quickly appointed Honorius as its bishop, to whom, my venerable friend, I suggest you send quite quickly worthy representatives so that through our friends and me you can at least renew your prerogatives for the better.2 But now and then God allows things He would not want [to happen], I do not know why. People rejoiced and began the «Te Deum laudamus», but half-way through, while Lamberto was singing loudly along with us and with the congregation, Roberto Frangipane was wicked enough to turn the sound of the harp into lamentation and the angelic singing into weeping. What can I say? What Cencio did yesterday to Gelasius, Roberto did today to Celestine. The wretched Tebaldo, however, could not forget those blows and lashes until he died, even had he wanted to, in as much as he died during them. The laity elected Lamberto, the plotters ran about everywhere; the priests, deacons and very many clerics fled without their shoes – or should I say their skins? – and barely escaped the swords and knives. […] [They] put a red cope around his [Lamberto’s] shoulders and named him Honorius, because he was not. […] So that day ended with fear, grief, and gloom, and with joy for a few people.3

These two passages are from different accounts of the election of Lamberto, Cardinal-Bishop of Ostia, as Pope Honorius II (1124-1130), after the death of Calixtus II in December 1124. 4 The first is in a letter dated early 1125 sent by Deusdedit, Cardinal-Priest of S. Lorenzo in Damaso and papal legate for Spain, 2 ‘Sciat claritas uestra, charissime, me sanum incolumemque esse et beate memorie Calixtum ex hac uita honeste proculdubio migrasse. Quapropter diuina pietas preclara non multum suam ecclesiam pastore uiduatam sciuit, sed Honorium cito in eadem constituit presulem, ad quem, uenerande amice, consulo uobis honestos citius destinare legatos, ut de bono in melius priuilegia utique uestra per me nostrosque amicos renouare possitis.’ Emma Falque Rey, ed, Historia Compostellana (Turnhout, 1988), p. 376; the translation is mine. 3 ‘Sed patitur Caelestis, ego nescio cur, aliquando quae nollet. Inceptum est Te Deum laudamus gaudendo; non tamen dimidiato adhuc, Lamberto pariter nobiscum alta voce cantante et ecclesia, Robertus impius Fraiapane verti fecit in luctum cytharam et in ploratum cantationem angelicam. Quid dicam? Quod fecit heri Cencius Gelasio, hoc complevit hodie in Coelestino Robertus. Non tamen miser Tebaldus ictus illos et verbera praeter in hora mortis, etsi bene vellet, potuit oblivisci, utpote qui est defunctus in illis. Levant Lambertum laici, undique coniurati discurrunt; fugiunt presbiteri diaconi ac clerici plurimi sine caligis; quare dicerem pallibus? Vix enses ac macheras evadunt. […] eum […] cappa rubea ammantato, per catantyfrasin Honorium nominant. […] Sicque dies ille maerore, luctu, tristitia, gaudio paucis, finitus est.’ Liber pontificalis, nella recensione di Pietro Guglielmo OSB e del card. Pandolfo, U. Přerovsky, Studia Gratiana (3 vols; Rome, 1978) ii. pp. 752-753; the translation is mine. 4 On Honorius, see Enrico Veneziani, ʽSome Remarks on the Ecclesiology of Honorius II’s Papacy (1124-1130)’, Rivista di Storia della Chiesa in Italia, 1.2018 (2019), pp. 25-50.

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to Diego Gelmírez, archbishop of Santiago de Compostela.5 It survives in the Historia Compostellana, the official history of the bishopric of Compostela, and is the only evidence which is almost contemporaneous with the events. The latter is the version of the Liber Pontificalis in the Tortosa manuscript, written between 1133 and 1138 by Cardinal Pandulf, a supporter of Anacletus II in the schism that followed the death of Honorius in 1130.6 Pandulf was extremely hostile towards the dead pontiff. The texts present two opposing versions of the same event, each focusing on elements not found in the other. The aim of this chapter is to illustrate how the 1124 election was depicted, resulting in two versions describing the same event in such starkly opposite ways. From Deusdedit’s letter, it seems nothing worth mentioning happened during the election. Pandulf’s account, on the other hand, shows lay violence playing a significant role. The comparison with two later independent accounts may be evidence for asserting that a certain degree of violence was indeed involved in the election. The chapter further explores the link between violence and political/social changes in Rome, in particular the rise of the Frangipane in the twelfth century. Furthermore, it examines the influence of these changes on Honorius’s appointment as pope according to Pandulf, comparing the 1124 interference by the Frangipane with another episode which occurred in 1118, during Gelasius II’s election. Thereafter, the chapter will consider the extent to which Pandulf’s involvement in the schism following the death of Honorius and his support for Anacletus II played a part in his hostility towards the dead pope and why. This chapter also considers the link between the accounts of Gelasius’s and Lamberto’s elections, as narratives produced later and with a specific aim. One possible identification of the Frangipane’s candidate in 1118 will also be considered as further potential evidence for arguing that Pandulf’s text represented an attack on the election of Innocent II.

The Letter of Cardinal Deusdedit: An Echo of the Official Roman Version of the Election? The letter of Deusdedit is the only source almost contemporaneous with the events since it was written only a few months after Honorius’s election. 5 On Deusdedit, see Rudolf Hüls, Klerus und Kirchen Roms 1049-1130 (Tübingen, 1977), pp. 179-180. 6 On Pandulf, see Stefania Anzoise, ʻPandolfo da Alatri’, DBI, 80 (2015) (http://www.treccani. it/enciclopedia/pandolfo-da-alatri_(Dizionario-Biografico)/, accessed 18 December 2018) and Carmela Vircillo-Franklin, ʽHistory and Rethoric in the Liber Pontificalis of the Twelfth Century’, The Journal of Medieval Latin 23 (2013), pp. 4-5.

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Neither letters produced by Honorius’s chancery at the beginning of his papacy nor responses survive, which is unusual, given that this was a moment when popes usually described their elections, presenting their official view. Such letters were sometimes almost a manifesto of the ecclesiological ideas of the pope, sent to important figures to test the waters and, through the kind of replies the newly elected pontiff received, gave a better idea of which allies he could count on.7 Therefore, we do not know how this election was officially presented and which contacts Honorius considered fundamental to his politics. 8 The overall shape of the pope’s letters is problematic. The registrum has not survived and there is no critical edition of his epistles, which are spread in different nineteenth-century collections.9 I have traced 351 letters issued by his chancery, out of which 268 texts are 7 Glauco Maria Cantarella, Il Sole e la Luna. La rivoluzione di Gregorio VII papa 1073-1085 (Bari, 2005), p. 99. 8 Peter the Deacon refers of a letter sent to the abbot of Montecassino Oderisius II, in which the pope asked for money for the Roman church, but the epistle is missing: ʽMandat dehinc idem papa nostro abbati navem Petri periclitari in fluctibus, monet, uti subveniat, ut pecunie subsidium mittat, protestans illos, qui se in tanto articulo adiuvarent, habituros ut filios, qui non, ut privignos.’ H. Hoffmann, ed, Chronica Monasterii Casinensis, MGH, SS, XXXIV (Hannover, 1980), p. 546. 9 On letters sent by now Honorius’s chancery see Enrico Veneziani, The Ecclesiology of the Papacy of Honorius II (1124-1130), with a Preliminary Calendar of Letters, PhD thesis in Mediaeval History, University of St Andrews (2017), supervisor Prof. Frances Andrews. The pope’s epistles are included in Jaffé, Philipp, Regesta pontificum romanorum: ab condita ecclesia ad annum post Christum natum MCXCVIII (2 vols; Leipzig, 1885-1888); F. Liverani, ʻCodice diplomatico e bollario di Onorio II’, in Id., Delle opere di Monsignor Francesco Liverani, IV (Macerata, 1859); Honorii II Pontificis Romani epistolae et privilegia, in Patrologiae cursus completus, Series Latina, ed. J. P. Migne (d’ora in poi PL), CLXVI (Parisiis, 1894), col. 1213-1318A; Loewenfeld, Samuel, Epistolae pontificum Romanorum ineditae (Leipzig, 1885); Von Pflugk-Harttung, Julius, Acta Pontificum Romanorum inedita. Urkunden des Päpste (3 vols; Tübingen, 1881-1888); Evans, John G., The text of the book of Llan Dâv reproduced from the Gwenogvryn manuscript (Oxford, 1893); Italia Pontificia, P. F. Kehr, W. Holtzmann, and D. Girgensohn eds. (10 vols; 1906-1975); Germania Pontificia, A. Brackmann, H. Jakobs, T. Schieffer, and E. Boshof eds. (10 vols; 1910-2003); Gallia Pontificia, R. Locatelli, G. Moyse, B. de Vregille, and B. Schilling eds. (3 vols; 1998-2006); Iberia Pontificia, D. Berger, and S. Domínguez Sánchez eds. (2 vols; 2012-2013); Scotia Pontificia. Papal letters to Scotland before the pontificate of Innocent III, R. Somerville, ed. (Oxford, 1982); Papsturkunden in Italien, P. F. Kehr, ed. (6 vols; Città del Vaticano, 1977); Papsturkunden in Frankreich, W. Wiederhold, ed. (2 vols; Città del Vaticano, 1985); Papsturkunden in Frankreich. Neue Folge, H. Meinert, J. Ramackers, D. Lohrmann, and R. Groẞe, eds. (9 vols; 1932-1998); Papsturkunden in Spanien, P. F. Kehr, ed. (3 vols; 1926-1928); Papstrukunden in Portugal, C. Erdmann, ed. (Berlin, 1927); Papsturkunden in England, W. Holtzmann, ed. (3 vols; 1930-1952); Papsturkunden für Kirchen im heiligen Lande, R. Hiestand, ed. (Göttingen, 1985); Papsturkunden des östlichen Deutschlands, A. Brackmann, ed. (1902); Papsturkunden des Nordens, Nord- und Mittel-Deutschlands, A. Brackmann, ed. (1904); Papsturkunden der Schweiz, A. Brackmann, ed. (1904); Papsturkunden in den Niederlanden, J. Ramackers, ed. (Berlin, 1933-1934).

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still extant. Their analysis has revealed no mention at all of the election, either direct or indirect. This silence is itself significant; the avoidance of mentioning the election could have been a deliberate strategy and thereby avoid any embarrassing elements for the pope.10 On the other hand, there is no evidence during his papacy for any kind of attack against Honorius based on a lack of legitimacy, a subject which would have been perfect for potential enemies to exploit. Deusdedit’s epistle has already been studied, but only for its importance for understanding the relations between Archbishop Diego and the papacy. Richard Fletcher has argued that in his letter the Cardinal described the new pope in guarded terms.11 Actually, the epistle simply acknowledges that, with the election of a new pontiff, things had changed: it was a lesson in political realism, a suggestion to Diego about how to approach the new bishop of Rome. The document does not offer any particular information about the event, which contributes to a sense that nothing of note occurred. After mentioning the death of Calixtus, the Cardinal simply asserts that God’s compassion has not allowed its Church to remain without a shepherd. This is the reason for the choice of Honorius as pope. There is no mention of any violence or any incident that may have disrupted the election and would thereby give rise to doubts about the pope’s legitimacy and canonicity. Was Deusdedit echoing the official version on recent events? Perhaps. There is a shared silence among sources of that time. This may have been the official version for how to describe the election of Honorius. However, it does not seem to have had much purchase. This way of depicting the event was not adopted by subsequent accounts and did not circulate beyond the Historia Compostellana in which it was included.12

Pandulf’s Life of Honorius: An Artificial Account of the Election Less than two years after the death of Honorius, between 1133 and 1138, Cardinal Pandulf started his work on the lives of three pontiffs: Gelasius 10 The same strategy was adopted during the double election of 1130: in the f irst letters of Innocent II and Anacletus II there is no mention at all the choice of the rival or the dispute with the other party. 11 Richard A. Fletcher, Saint James’s Catapult: The Life and Times of Diego Gelmírez of Santiago de Compostela (Oxford, 1984), p. 212. 12 There are only 18 surviving manuscripts of this work, none of them from the twelfth century. The oldest one is manuscript 2658 in Salamanca, University Library dated to the middle thirteenth century, Falque Rey Historia Compostellana, pp. xxxiii-lxvii.

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II (1118-1119), Calixtus II (1119-1124), and Honorius II.13 His Life of Honorius – both editors Louise Duchesne and José March have argued that this biography was written when Anacletus’s cause was already doomed (a tricky hypothesis since Anacletus was ‘defeated’ only by death), perhaps even after 1138 – tells a completely new story, especially in the passage which will be the focus of this chapter.14 Beyond the evident hostility of Pandulf towards the new pontiff, one element dominates his account: the violence caused by the members of the Roman family of the Frangipane. It was a result of violence that saw them impose their own candidate, even though the assembly had already chosen Tebaldo, Cardinal-Priest of S. Anastasia, as Pope Celestine II. The description conveys not only the chaos but also the drama of the scene. Violence is depicted as the direct consequence of the intervention of a lay power, which becomes the main character in the narrative. As shown by Carmela Vircillo-Franklin, the whole ritual is thus turned into a pantomime to highlight the illegitimacy and irregularity of Honorius’s election – especially in comparison to the accounts given in the Lives of Paschal and Gelasius.15 Recreating the narrative of the election according to this second version is complex, as most of the sources give different accounts. Moreover, Honorius’s election has been read only as a precedent for the 1130 double election, thus risking anachronism. The same old historiographical ideas which are found in works on 1130 affect studies on Honorius and therefore it is almost impossible to discuss them separately. Stefania Anzoise has recently pointed out the problems that arise from the sources and has laid out the different interpretations.16 She groups the analysis of other scholars into two camps, one that sees the troubled election as a consequence of the clash between the Frangipane and the Pierleoni (strongly asserted by Pier Fausto Palumbo, who also focused on other factors), and the other which sees Haimeric and the role 13 There is a fourth biography, that of Paschal II (1099-1118), but its attribution is highly controversial. Vircillo-Franklin, following March’s suggestion, thinks that this Life was written by an anonymous biographer and not Pandulf, see Vircillo-Franklin, ʽHistory and Rethoric in the Liber Pontificalis’, p. 11; 27. Others, such as Duchesne, Přerovsky, and Peter Orth, argue for Pandulf’s authorship, see Anzoise, ʻPandolfo da Alatri’. 14 The original version of Pandulf’s biographies survives in MS 246 of the Biblioteca Capitular of Tortosa, most likely a work produced at the monastery of St Peter in Psalmodi around the middle of the twelfth century, see Vircillo-Franklin, ʽHistory and Rethoric in the Liber Pontificalis’, p. 10. 15 Ibid., pp. 29-30. 16 Stefania Anzoise, ʽPer una riconsiderazione dello scisma del 1130. Il ruolo dei cardinali dal 1059’, (unpublished Master thesis, Università di Pisa, 2009), pp. 111-120; Id., ʽLo Scisma del 1130: aspetti e prospettive di un lungo dibattito storiografico’, Archivum Historiae Pontificiae 49 (2011), pp. 7-49.

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of the college of cardinals as central but also interprets the fight in a more spiritual way (as first argued by Hans-Walter Klewitz and then maintained by Franz-Josef Schmale and Stanley Chodorow).17 Giorgio Milanesi, in his work on the use of artistic commissions in Aquitaine during the schism of 1130-1138, has called for a new paradigm for interpreting the dispute between Anacletus and Innocent, free from the conception of the schism as a ʻclash between opposites’.18 Following Mary Stroll’s 1987 innovations and what emerged during the 2013 conference ʽFraming Anacletus II (Anti)pope, 1130-1138’, he proposes analysing the clash in a political context, framing the teleological and spiritual arguments only as part of the fight between two opposites and of the libelli produced during the clash, in the same vein as the accusation of Anacletus being Jewish.19 Glauco Maria Cantarella has recently argued that the best and only explanation is to consider the double election as a ʽmortal fight’ between the Frangipane and the Pierleoni, a Roman concern which echoed throughout Europe because of the changing role of the papacy after the reforms of the eleventh century.20 On the one hand, he proposes a re-evaluation of Palumbo’s analysis, whilst on the other he contextualises the ideological vision proposed by Klewitz and further developed by Schmale and Chodorow, noting the probable influence of the period in which each scholar was working. Klewitz, after a period in the Sturmabteilung (SA), died in 1943 during a military exercise of the Waffen SS Adolf Hitler, of which he was a member; Cantarella argues that in Klewitz’s depiction of the struggle between Innocent II’s alleged new and fresh reform against Anacletus, who stood for the old Gregorian reformers, there might be an echo of his adhesion to the National Socialist ʽNeue Ordnung’, which intended to supplant the old Germany. Schmale wrote his work in the wake of the Second Vatican

17 Pier Fausto Palumbo, Lo scisma del MCXXX. I precedenti, la vicenda romana e le ripercussioni europee della lotta tra Anacleto e Innocenzo II (Rome, 1942); Id., ʽNuovi studi (1942-1962) sullo scisma di Anacleto II’, Bullettino dell’Istituto storico italiano per il Medioevo e Archivio Muratoriano 75 (1963), pp. 71-103; Hans-Walter Klewitz., ʽDas Ende des Reformpapsttums’, in Deutsches Archiv für Geschichte des Mittelalters 3 (1939), pp. 371-412; Franz-Josef Schmale, Studien zum Schisma des Jahres 1130 (Köln, 1961). 18 Giorgio Milanesi, Bonifica delle immagini e propaganda in Aquitania durante lo Scisma del 1130-1138 (Verona, 2013), pp. 27-86. 19 Ibid., p. 55. This charge played a decisive part in the propaganda of these years. It is significant that Stroll has entitled her work Mary Stroll, The Jewish Pope: Ideology and Politics in the Papal Schism of 1130 (Leiden, 1987). 20 Glauco Maria Cantarella, Manuale della fine del mondo. Il travaglio dell’Europa Medievale (Turin, 2015), pp. 286-293.

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Council and the same climate may have influenced Chodorow as well.21 Both scholars indeed characterised the 1130 double election as a fight for a more spiritual church, less compromised with the secular world. More recently, the view of the election as a fight among Roman families has also been shared by Chris Wickham.22 Common to all these works is therefore a focus on the schism of 1130-1138 and the election of Honorius is pushed into the background. Yet it is possible (and advantageous) to give to the 1124 election its due independent consideration, without applying to it pre-determined models. The context was indeed too fluid and there is no evidence showing the existence of the 1130 parties in 1124 – especially considering that these factions probably came in to existence during the double election itself. What historiography has agreed on is that at the death of Calixtus in 1124 there were two main candidates for the succession, Lamberto and Saxo, Cardinal-Priest of S. Stefano al monte Celio (another of the negotiators of Worms, together with Lamberto and with Gregorio of Sant’Angelo, and the future Innocent II).23 However, when the cardinals assembled, Gionata of SS Cosma e Damiano proposed Tebaldo as a compromise. While the prelates were already singing the Te Deum for the chosen pontiff, the Frangipane’s masnada (a small band of militia) burst into the assembly, attacked Celestine, who renounced the papacy, and elected Lamberto.24 In Pandulf’s text the most significant element is lay violence. The depiction is vivid, especially through the comments of the author, who may have been an eyewitness to the event. Violent action coerced the popular acclamation, and resistance to being elected were topoi in papal elections.25 They were essential elements in emphasising the humility of the candidate, who could thus assert that he had not sought election but had been forced to accept. There are several earlier examples of this, most famously the 21 Ibid., pp. 287-289. See also Stanley A. Chodorow, Christian Political Theory and Church Politics in the Mid-Twelfth Century: The Ecclesiology of Gratian’s Decretum (Berkley, 1972). 22 Chris Wickham, Medieval Rome: Stability and Crisis of a City, 900-1150 (Oxford, 2015); Chris Wickham, Sonnambuli verso un nuovo mondo. L’affermazione dei comuni italiani nel XII secolo (Rome, 2017). 23 Liber pontificalis, nella recensione di Pietro Guglielmo, p. 751. On Saxo see Enrico Dumas, ʽSassone di Anagni’, in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani, 90 (2017) [http://www.treccani.it/ enciclopedia/sassone-di-anagni_%28Dizionario-Biografico%29/, accessed 18 December 2018]. 24 Anzoise, ʽPer una riconsiderazione dello scisma’, pp. 111-112. 25 These topoi were present in secular appointment as well, see for example the Narratio de electione Lotharii, an anonymous work probably written between 1150-1170 describing the election of Lothar III. See Wilhelm Wattenbach, ed., ʻNarratio de electione Lotharii’, in MGH, SS, 12, pp. 509-512.

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elections of Gregory I the Great (590-604) and Gregory VII (1073-1085). The latter, in a letter to Wibert, Archbishop of Ravenna and the future (anti) pope Clement III (1080-1100), wrote that he had not been able to resist his election, stressing the link between popular acclamation and violence.26 These topoi were still in use in the twelfth century, as shown by the accounts of the election of Victor III in the Chronica Monasterii Casinensis, a section probably written by Peter the Deacon around 1140, and of Hugh of Lyon as Bishop of Die in Hugh of Flavigny’s Chronicon (written in 1090s), among others.27 However, in Honorius’s election the role played by lay violence does not seem to have been only a topos. Lay violence was obviously contrary to all procedures for the election of the pontiff included in the Decretum in electione pape.28 This was an emergency decree issued by Pope Nicholas II in 1059 to legitimise an emergency situation, the election of Nicholas himself, in opposition to Benedict X, the choice of some Roman noble 26 On the parallel with Gregory the Great see Herbert E. J. Cowdrey, Pope Gregory VII, 1073-1085 (Oxford, 1998), p. 73. ʽSed subito, cum predictus dominus noster papa in ecclesia Salvatoris supulturę traderetur, ortus est magnus tumultus populi et fremitus et in me quasi vesani insurrexerunt, nil dicendi, nil consulendi facultatis aut spatii relinquentes violentis manibus me in locum apostolici regiminis, cui longe impar sum, rapuerunt.’ Gregory VII, Registrum, E. Caspar, ed, MGH, Epistolae selectae, I (Berlin 1920-3), pp. 1-2; this letter has been convincingly analysed by Cantarella, Manuale della fine del mondo, pp. 99-102. On new approaches to the study of the so called (anti) popes and the methodological problems in previous historiography see the proceedings of the two conferences ʽFraming Clement III, (Anti) pope, 1080-1100’ (John Cabot University, 1 April 2011) and ʽFraming Anacletus II, (Anti) pope, 1130-1138’ (Rome 10-12 April 2013), in particular the paper given by Tommaso Di Carpegna Falconieri, ʽPopes Through the Looking Glass, or «Ceci n’est pas un pape»’, Reti Medievali-Rivista, 13 (1) (2012), pp. 121-136. 27 The account of Victor’s election is in Hoffmann, Chronica Monasterii Casinensis, pp. 447-451. See Enrico Veneziani, ʽProblemi dell’elezione di Vittore III (1086-1087)’, Bullettino dell’Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo 118 (2016), pp. 141-156. Hugh of Flavigny, Chronicon, MGH, SS, VIII (Hannover, 1848), p. 410: ʽDum ergo de his inter eos tractaretur, et ut praediximus, ille dictus episcopus audientiam subterfugeret, iuxta canonum instituta et sanctorum patrum decreta episcopus querebatur idoneus, qui et saluti eorum invigilaret, et animabus commissis sollicitus superintenderet, ecce personuit ad aures eorum, advenisse ille et aecclesiam qua tenebantur intrasse orationis gratia domunm Hugonem Lugdunensem camerarium, praecinctum et paratum ad equitandum; ibat enim Romae ad sanctum Petrum. Nec mora, Spiritus sancti gratia corda suorum illustrante, fit clamor et concursus fidelium, ocreatus cum calcaribus invenitur, rapitur, tenetur; in conspectu apostolicae sedis vicarii summo omnium favore et gratia deducitur; quod dignus sit qui possit aecclesiae praeesse et prodesse, acclamatur. Reclamabat ille, et votis populi parabat obsistere, quasi qui non posset nec deberet sponso legitimo vivente castitatem aecclesiae foeda scissione corrumpere.’; on Hugh of Lyon see Kriston R. Rennie, Law and Practice in the Age of Reform: The Legatine Work of Hugh of Die (1073-1106) (Turnhout, 2010). 28 Even before the Decretum violence and chaos were not tolerated in episcopal elections, as attested by Leo I’s epistle, later included in the Decretum Gratiani, Leo I, PL LIV, col. 646; Robert L. Benson, The Bishop-elect: A Study in Medieval Ecclesiastical Office (Princeton, 1968), pp. 24-26.

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families.29 It was, in theory, still valid at the time of Honorius’s election. According to the Decretum, the election should have been in the hands of the cardinal-bishops. However, while it fixed the rules for the election, the Decretum also considered possible exceptions to them. In no case, as we would expect, was there space for lay violence. This view was shared by canon law collections. The Collectio Canonum of Cardinal Deusdedit, for example, which was dedicated to Pope Victor III, allowed lay power to be invited only in order to help carry out the election, which should stay in the hands of the cardinals. Any crowd or mob (turba) must be excluded from the process of papal election.30 Canons were often evoked in making judgements on whether or not they were observed. It is highly possible Pandulf overstated the violence in his retrospective version in order to denigrate Honorius’s election. However, his propaganda account should have been plausible to be deemed credible and could not have been totally made-up. A hint that something uncanonical happened and that there was a certain degree of lay violence is found in the later accounts of Peter William and Boso. The first, written in 1142 by the librarian of SaintGilles, which survives in Vat. Lat. 3672, is just a short and revised version of Pandulf’s text eliminating most of the original passages hostile to Honorius.31 The latter is the work of Cardinal Boso, written in the 1150s/1160s.32 It differs 29 For the immense historiography on the Decretum see Ovidio Capitani, ʽProblematica della Disceptatio Synodalis’, in O. Capitani, ed, Tradizione ed interpretazione: dialettiche ecclesiologiche del sec. XI (Rome, 1990), pp. 49-50 and 81-83. The starting point is still Hans-Georg Krause, Das Papstwahldekret von 1059 und seine Rolle im Investiturstreit (Rome, 1960); this work has partially been revised by Detlev Jasper, Das Papstwahldekret von 1059. Überlieferung und Textgestalt (Sigmaringen, 1986). The latest work is Wolfgang Stürner, ʽDas Papstwahldekret von 1059 und seine Verfälschung. Gedanken zu einem neuen Buch’, in Fälschungen im Mittelalter. Internationaler Kongreẞ der Monumenta Germaniae Historica München, 16-19. September 1986 (5 vols; Hannover, 1988), ii. pp. 157-190. 30 ʽOmnis electio episcopi uel presbiteri aut diaconi a principibus facta irrita maneat secundum regulam, quę dicit: Si quis episcopus secularibus potestatibus usus ęcclesiam per ipsas optineat, deponatur et segeretur omnesque, qui illi commvnicant.’ IV. 13(11); ʽNon est permittendum turbis electiones eorum facere, qui sunt ad sacerdotium promouendi.’ IV. 20(18). Deusdedit, Collectio Canonum, ed. V. Wolf von Glanvell, Die Kanonessamlung des Kardinals Deusdedit, I (Paderborn, 1905). 31 For a wider analysis of the manuscript and for Peter’s additions to the text to highlight the role of Saint-Gilles see Vircillo-Franklin, ʽHistory and Rethoric in the Liber Pontificalis’, pp. 8-9. 32 ʽSed patitur Celestis, ego nescio cur, aliquando quae nollet. Inceptum est Te Deum laudamus guadendo: non tamen dimidiato, adhuc Lamberto pariter nobiscum alta voce cantante et ecclesia, Robertus impius Fraiapane verti fecit in luctum cytharam. Etenim ipse cum quibusdam consentaneis suis et aliquibus de curia Lambertum Hostiensem episcopum papam acclamaverunt; […] Unde licet maxima discordia et tumultus emerserit, tamen postea pacificatis omnibus et ad concordiam redactis in papam Honorium sublimatur.’ Louis Duchesne, ed., Le Liber Pontificalis. Texte, introduction

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in certain points from Pandulf’s. Indeed, it seems that Boso did not use Pandulf’s account. Instead, it is clear that he started his work from where the old Liber Pontificalis had ended, with the papacy of Stephen V (885-891). Although neither author explicitly mentions violence during the election of Honorius, Peter writes of subsequent discordia et tumultus. Boso underlined the humility of the new pontiff, describing how he had decided to give up the papacy and was thus confirmed by the cardinals, who were struck by his behaviour. He explained Honorius’s decision as being because his election was by no means canonical (‘minus canonice processerat’). Although Pandulf probably overstated it, it is significant that these two later, independent accounts could not completely hide the violence. Moreover, in all three Lives, the description of the election dominates and significantly less space is assigned to the events of the rest of the papacy, as if the remaining acts of the pope were not particularly important. This is a characteristic which appears only in Honorius’s Life: even when describing other short-lived-popes such as Gelasius, the space which is dedicated to the election and the reign of the pontiff is usually balanced. The special focus on Honorius’s election might be further proof that there was some sort of irregularity in this election and therefore the need to criticise or defend the validity of the choice of Lamberto as pope became the main purpose of each author. Pandulf described the election as a violent plot by Frangipane supporters, together with Haimeric, the papal chancellor, against Celestine and the rest of the assembly, designed to ensure the election of their own candidate. According to this version, the night before the cardinals assembled, Leo Frangipane sent messengers to each cardinal’s chaplain warning them to wear a red cope underneath their black cloak, thus persuading each of them that their lord would be pope the following day.33 This suggests some sort of predetermined plan by this Roman family to elect its own et commentaire (3 vols., Paris 1889-1952), II, p. 327. ʽHic electus est sub contentione cum Tebaldo Buccapecu, presbitero cardinali titutli sancte Anastasie, anno Incarnationis dominice MCXXIIII. Set quia electio eius Honorii minus canonice processerat, post septem dies in conspectu fratrum sponte mitram et mantum refutavit atque deposuit. Fratres vero, tam episcopi qiam presbiteri et diaconi cardinales, videntes ipsius humilitatem et prospicientes in posterum ne in Romanam ecclesiam aliquam in ducerent novitatem, quod perperam factum fuerat in melius reformarunt, et eundem Honorium denuo advocantes, ad eius vestigia prociderunt et tanquam pastori suo et universali pape consuetam obedientiam sibi exhibuere.’ Ibid., p. 379. 33 ʽIn sero autem praesenti idem Leo per nuntios unumquemque seorsum de cappellanibus cardinalium praemonet, ut mane summo diluculo cum pluviali rubeo sub cappa nigra retento, ignorante domino, eundem suum dominum anteiret.’ Liber pontificalis, nella recensione di Pietro Guglielmo, p. 751. On the cappa rubea, see Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, Il Corpo del Papa (Turin, 1994), pp. 117-125.

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pope, and the Frangipane are thus blamed by Pandulf for what follows in his account. Indeed, Honorius is presented as if he were almost a puppet in the hands of this party, unaware of their plans up to the point of backing Tebaldo’s election until the very last moment, when the masnada intruded.34 Pandulf also constructed a direct contrast between Celestine’s election, unanimously supported by all cardinals, and Lamberto’s, where he stressed that every rite was celebrated by the laity, while the prelates fled.35 The same antithesis is used to describe the different behaviours of the two candidates: at first, Lamberto seemed to give up the papacy because of his uncanonical election, but then he counted on Roman greed to hold onto it. On the other hand, the reason ʽthe holy’ Celestine renounced the papacy was that he was moved by his compassion ʽat the murders that usually took place in these circumstances’.36 Pandulf presents violence as normal but also as a direct consequence of the Frangipane’s intervention, and the family’s strength and influence as being what brought about the result. According to Wickham, in the fifty years after 1100, the Frangipane were the most influential family in Rome among the so called ʻnew aristocracies’, along with the Pierleoni and the Corsi/Prefetti.37 In this group, he includes families that, between 1050 and 1150, distinguished themselves from other Roman families by controlling key places in the government of the Urbs. From the end of the eleventh century, contemporary writers recognised this difference, referring to the group as nobiles. However, there were differences among these families as well: the Frangipane were probably the richest kin group, their properties extending throughout the whole of Lazio.38 By contrast, the Pierleoni were poorer and probably remained a merchant-based family.39 Wickham’s analysis particularly focuses on the first quarter of 34 Stroll, The Jewish Pope, pp. 18-19; Palumbo, Lo Scisma del MCXXX, p. 137. 35 As shown by Paravicini Bagliani, Maccarrone’s assumption that these rituals were performed by the cardinals to assert the legitimacy of Honorius’s election is wrong. The motivation for it is the exact opposite and the focus is on the role played by laity, see Michele Maccarrone, ʽLa “cathedra Sancti Petri” nel Medio Evo: da simbolo a reliquia’, in Michele Maccarrone, Romana Ecclesia Cathedra Petri (2 vols; Rome, 1991), ii. p. 1313; and Paravicini Bagliani, Il Corpo del Papa, p. 74. 36 ʽSanctus homo Tebaldus, etsi secum ęcclesiam, sicut paulo prius ostensum est, et fere omnem populum haberet ad pedes, pietate homicidiorum, quae in malis istis solent perpetrari commotus, papatum, Deus scit quo iure, dimisit.’ Liber pontificalis, nella recensione di Pietro Guglielmo, p. 753. 37 See Wickham, Medieval Rome, pp. 181-258; Wickham, Sonnambuli verso un nuovo mondo, pp. 127-137. 38 Wickham, Medieval Rome, pp. 228-231. See also the classic Matthias Thumser, ʽDie Frangipane’, Quellen und Forschungen aus italienischen Archiven und Bibliotheken, 71 (1991), pp. 106-163. 39 Wickham, Medieval Rome, pp. 223-224. See David Whitton, ʽPapal Policy in Rome, 1012-1124’ (unpublished PhD thesis, Oxford University, 1979), pp. 185-202.

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the twelfth century, and he argues that the control of the papacy was of fundamental importance for these families, as it was the office on which every appointment and concession depended. 40 Interference by Roman families in papal elections was nothing new. The four elections that took place in the first quarter of the twelfth century saw significant and sometimes even decisive external involvement. The Frangipane had been particularly active on this front. According to the Life of Gelasius II in the Liber Pontificalis, again written by Pandulf, during the election of John of Gaeta/Gelasius on 24 January 1118, Cencio II Frangipane, together with his servants, burst into the church during the ceremony, beat up the pope, and imprisoned him in his house. Only the intervention of the Roman multitude (‘multitudo’) forced Cencio to free Gelasius. 41 In this instance, the description is even more dramatic, and the violence is detailed. Cencio is depicted as a fierce dragon, a beast; the metaphors used are vivid and give the sense of a completely irrational act. This section is followed by a long invective against Cencio, which disappears in Peter William’s later account. 42 Wickham notes that there is no evidence explaining why the Frangipane behaved in this way; indeed, even the other Roman families were taken by surprise, because the election had taken place in an area of the city under Frangipane control. Even when Gelasius was freed by the multitudo, Frangipane hostility did not end and exploded again later in July. The family’s supporters attacked him while he was celebrating mass at S. Prassede, again a church in territory controlled by this family, which did not tolerate this act of the pope. 43 The attack during the 1118 election is also reported twice in the account of Honorius’s Life. According to Pandulf, in 1124 the cardinals were at first too 40 Wickham, Sonnambuli verso un nuovo mondo, pp. 132-134. 41 ʽHoc audiens inimicus pacis atque turbator iam fatus Cencius Fraiapane, more drachonis immanissimi sibilans et ab imis pectoribus trahens longa suspiria, accintus taetro gladio, sine mora cucurrit, valvas ac fores confregit, ecclesiam furibundus introiit, inde custode remoto papam per gulam accepit, distraxit, pugnis calcibusque percussit, et tanquam brutum animal intra limen ecclesiae acriter calcaribus cruentavit, et, latro, tantum dominum per capillos et brachia, Jesu bono interim dormiente, detraxit, ad domum usque deduxit, inibi catenavit et clausit. Tum praephati episcopi, cardinales omnes ac clerici et multi de populo qui convenerant, ab apparitoribus Cencii modo simili vinciuntur, de caballis ac mulis capite verso praecipitantur, expoliantur et inauditis undique miseri miseriis affliguntur, donec aliqui semivivi ad domum tandem propriam remearint. Malo suo venit qui fugere cito non potuit.’ Liber pontificalis, nella recensione di Pietro Guglielmo, p. 732; on the multitudo and its importance in the development of a Roman commune see Wickham, Sonnambuli verso un nuovo mondo, pp. 125-127. 42 Liber pontificalis, nella recensione di Pietro Guglielmo, pp. 372-374. 43 Wickham, Sonnambuli verso un nuovo mondo, pp. 125-126.

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frightened to assemble, and only Leo Frangipane’s trick about the red copes allowed this to happen. Moreover, the same 1118 blitz is invoked as a parallel for the intervention of Roberto Frangipane during Honorius’s election. 44 Considering this comparison is made by the same author in two different sections of his work, Pandulf may have wanted to present the 1118 election as an attempt to impose a Frangipane candidate in opposition to John of Gaeta, almost an anticipation of what was to happen in 1124. 45 Wickham argues that we do not know who this candidate may have been. 46 Although arguments e silentio should be treated carefully, is it possible that Pandulf was already hinting at the successive election of Maurice of Braga/(anti) pope Gregory VIII and, with the prompting of the Frangipane’s to attack them? As has recently been noticed, Maurice would have been the best hope for an agreement with Emperor Henry V and, in 1118, the Frangipane were supporting the imperial party. Maurice indeed had been a mediator, the man chosen by John of Gaeta to negotiate with Henry during the papacy of Paschal II in 1117 but had then swapped sides, supporting the Emperor.47 The chronology of the double election of 1118 shows that it was an intricate case. Gelasius was elected in haste by the cardinals in Rome; Paschal died in Rome on 21 January 1118, while John was in Montecassino. However, three days later, on 24 January, he reached the city and was elected pope. On the other hand, Maurice/Gregory VIII became pontiff only on 8 March. He would have needed Roman support to have a chance of being elected pope and, as has recently been argued by Francesco Renzi, the Frangipane family were among his supporters, allowing him to reside in and control Rome for three years. 48 The Frangipane may therefore have actually attempted to elect a candidate during the election of Gelasius in January, but only succeeded when Maurice of Braga was endorsed and elected by the imperial party 44 ʽEt quidam, factum papaę Gelasii recolentes, convenire timebant, et tamen in crastinum illecti fatuique conveniunt […] Quod fecit heri Cencius Gelasio, hoc complevit hodie in Cęlestino Robertus.’ Liber pontificalis, nella recensione di Pietro Guglielmo, pp. 751-752. 45 On how Pandulf created the Life of Gelasius and which classic authors he resorted to as models, see Vircillo-Franklin, ʽHistory and Rethoric in the Liber Pontificalis’, pp. 20-26. 46 Wickham, Medieval Rome, p. 429. 47 Glauco Maria Cantarella, ʽI Normanni e la Chiesa di Roma. Aspetti e momenti’, in Chiese locali e chiese regionali nell’Alto Medioevo. Spoleto, 4-9 aprile 2013 (Spoleto, 2014), p. 388. 48 Francesco Renzi, ʽImperator Burdinum Hispanum Romanae sedi violenter imposuit’. A research proposal on the Archbishop of Braga and Antipope Gregory VIII Maurice ‘Bourdin’, paper presented at the 6th International Medieval Meeting of Lleida – 2016 currently under peerreviewing. Post-doc project All the Roads Lead to Portugal: The Life and the European Trajectory of Archbishop Maurice ´Bourdin´ of Braga (11th-12th centuries), FCT-CITCEM-Universidade do Porto, ref. SFRH/BPD/110178/2015, p. 17.

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almost two months later – which was what really interested Pandulf. Maurice was already considered to be an antipope in Pandulf’s time because he had been defeated by Calixtus, and so supporting him may have been part of Pandulf’s strategy to discredit the Frangipane. According to the Anacletan author, the difference between the events that occurred 1118 and in 1124 was the success of the 1124 assault. This was probably a consequence of changes in the context in which the latter election took place. Pandulf emphasises Calixtus II’s entrusting of the masnada to Cencio Frangipane, after a reconciliation between the Roman family and the pontiff, who had previously razed three of the Frangipane’s towers. While the attack during Gelasius’s election is attributed only to Cencio, the second attack at S. Prassede in July 1118 was committed by milites and pedites, described by Wickham as a ʽpersonal military entourage’. 49 In the third attack, of 1124, Pandulf refers to the masnada playing an active role in forcing the nobles to honour the new pope.50 In Honorius’s Life, the masnada thus appears as a new instrument at the service of Roberto Frangipane which played a fundamental part in the success of the assault.51 The Frangipane’s ability to bribe the Pierleoni to support Honorius with the concession of Terracina, an important rural centre, and the prefect Pietro of the Corsi family with the fortress of Formello described by Pandulf, provided Lamberto with all the support he needed.52 However, there are doubts about the reliability of the whole account because of Pandulf’s aim to attack the Frangipane and Honorius. For example, the time in which corruption occurred, during the night, was a common topic in medieval sources and has been well-studied.53 A first example is tract eight Contra decreta Turbani included in the Gesta Romanae aecclesiae 49 Wickham, Medieval Rome, p. 264. 50 ʽInde Petrus Leo, etsi nollet, invitus et quidam alii nobiles de sola fraude clamati, coacti a masnada Cencii Fraiapane, quae ei a papa Calixto commendata remanserat, adoraverunt omnes, etsi saperet malum.’ Liber pontificalis, nella recensione di Pietro Guglielmo, p. 753. 51 Stroll has questioned the importance and actual power of the masnada but it is worth remembering that this is Pandulf’s account; see Stroll, The Jewish Pope, pp. 18-19. Wickham thinks that one of the reasons for the Frangipane’s attack in 1124 was that they achieved less advantage than did the Pierleoni and the Corsi during Calixtus’s papacy, see Wickham, Sonnambuli verso un nuovo mondo, p. 131. 52 Liber pontificalis, nella recensione di Pietro Guglielmo, pp. 753-754. 53 See Paolo Golinelli, ʽElementi per la storia delle campagne padane nelle fonti agiografiche del secolo XI’, Bullettino dell’Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo 87 (1978), pp. 47-49; Chris Fitter, ʽThe Poetic Nocturne: From Ancient Motif to Renaissance Genre’, Early Modern Literary Studies 3.2 (1997), online at https://extra.shu.ac.uk/emls/03-2/fittnoct.html; Deborah Youngs and Simon Harris, ʽDemonising the Night in Medieval Europe: A Temporal Monstrosity?’, B. Bildhauer and R. Mills, eds, The Monstrous Middle Ages (Cardiff, 2003), pp. 134-154.

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contra Hildebrandum, written between 1095 and 1100 which deals with Urban II’s canons produced at the council of Piacenza in 1095, asserting that they were written ʽnoctu occulte’.54 The Relatio registri Paschalis, while describing the events that led to the agreement of Sette Fratte between Paschal II and Henry V, stresses that the agreement was drafted during the night (ʽinter nocturnas tenebras’).55 On the other hand, the Frangipane’s strength is indirectly confirmed by the Chronica Monasterii Casinensis. It is the only chronicle to consist of more than a line on the election: During these days after the death in Rome of the said Pope Calixtus, the cardinals were divided. Some appointed Lamberto, Bishop of Ostia, whom I mentioned earlier, as Pope Honorius, others Tebaldo, titular cardinal St Anastasia, as Pope Celestine. However, since the stronger and better faction supported Honorius, these who favoured the said Tebaldo, seeing how things were going, and moved by late repentance they reverted to Honorius.56

The narrative states that Honorius was backed up by the fortior et potior pars and this was the reason that Tebaldo’s supporters changed their support.57 This idea of a large support in favour of Lamberto emerges from Pandulf’s account as well, despite his attempts to conceal it. He describes Saxo as the candidate of the populus. Nobody has paid particular attention to this expression, which however tells a lot about the factions which originated in the 1124 election. Wickham has shown how this word had many meanings in eleventh/twelfth-century Rome but identified what he has called as ʽmedium élite’, a group of families which played an important role only in certain areas of the city but were not as powerful as the Frangipane or similar families and usually had no link with the papacy. The members of these élite were going to give origin to the Roman commune in 1143.58 The 54 Contra decreta Turbani, MGH, Ldl, II (Hannover, 1902), p. 409. The reference to the night is noticed by Robert Somerville, Pope urban II’s Council of Piacenza (Oxford, 2011), p. 23, 55 L. Weiland, ed, Relatio Registri Paschalis, MGH, Const., I (Hannover, 1903), p. 149; Glauco Maria Cantarella, ʽEcclesiologia e politica nel papato di Pasquale II’, Studi Storici 131 (1982), p. 25. 56 ‘His diebus defuncto Rome iam dicto papa Calixto cardinales dividuntur et alii Lambertum Hostiensem episcopum, de quo superius mentionem fecimus, in papam Honorium, alii Theobaldum cardinalem tituli sancte Anastasie sibi in Celestinum papam preficiunt. Verum quia fortior et potior pars cum Honorio erat, hi, qui iam dicto Theobaldo favebant, rerum eventum videntes, sera penitudine ducti ad eundem Honorium reversi sunt.’ Hoffmann, Chronica Monasterii Casinensis, p. 546. 57 Ibid., p. 546. 58 Wickham, Sonnambuli verso un nuovo mondo, pp. 144-146; 157.

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support they granted to Saxo may thus have been an attempt to elect ʽtheir’ own pontiff. When they failed, Saxo’s endorsement for Lamberto may have caused – or was caused by – the medium élite’s change of support in favour of the future Honorius.59 Moreover, Pandulf’s claims that both the Prefect Peter – an office almost exclusively in the hands of the Corsi family as argued by Wickham – and the Pierleoni in the figures of Pietro di Leone – the leader of the Pierleoni family – and Uguccione – Peter Pierleoni’s brother – were bribed might imply that both families backed Lamberto, a troublesome endorsement for Pandulf’s way of presenting the election that may have been re-adapted but was not completely hidden.60 Could this emphasis on lay violence by Pandulf, who was hostile to Honorius, have been intended to convey the idea that his papal election was in some way illegal and invalid and at the same time hiding a degree of support in favour of Lamberto even from the Pierleoni? Was lay violence part of the author’s strategy to subvert Honorius’s ritual of election – as visually depicted by the appointee being carried upside down by laity to perform the rite of possession of the Lateran (ʽ[laici] ascendunt in palatium et papam in hoc ordine acclamatum, quasi suspensum inter caelum et terram, inde caput sursum faciendo pedesque deorsum’) – an intent which has been highlighted by Vircillo Franklin who has called this a ʽshameful farce’?61 The reason given for the new pontiff’s name may point us in this direction. According to Pandulf, Lamberto was called Honorius because he was not honourable (ʽper catantyfrasin Honorium nominant’). The use of the Greek phrase ʽKat antiphrasis’, indicating a word used to convey the opposite of its proper meaning, underlines the signif icance of the name.62 This custom was not new and was quite frequent when addressing (anti)popes with nicknames, as has been shown by Di Carpegna Falconieri.63 This was again part of the ʽupside down world’ process, a ʽritual humiliation’ based on the papal choice of a new name after an election.64 A similar 59 Saxo’s support of Honorius is attested by his various signatures on papal bulls. 60 On the growing importance of the urban prefect see Wickham, Sonnambuli verso un nuovo mondo, p. 130. 61 Liber pontificalis, nella recensione di Pietro Guglielmo, p. 752; Vircillo-Franklin, ʽHistory and Rhetoric in the Liber Pontificalis’, pp. 29-30. 62 The exact opposite reason for the choice of Honorius’s papal name is given by Ekkehard of Aura, Chronicon universale, G. Waitz, ed, MGH, SS, VI (Hannover, 1844), p. 263. 63 Tommaso Di Carpegna Falconieri, ʽSoprannomi di antipapi nel secolo XII’, Rivista Italiana di Onomastica 8.1 (2002), pp. 161-163. 64 Ibid., p. 162. On the ʽupside down world’ see Martine Boiteux, ʽLe feste: cultura del riso e della derisione’, in A. Vauchez ed., Storia di Roma dall’antichità ad oggi, Roma medievale (Rome/Bari, 2001), pp. 291-315. On the adoption of a new papal name see Tommaso Di Carpegna Falconieri,

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strategy was adopted in Boso’s Life of Honorius, when describing Tebaldo/ Celestine II, who is called Buccapecus, ‘sheep mouth’. Already Isidore of Seville attributed a particular meaning to this word, which might be helpful for understanding the mocking significance of the nickname. Pecus not only refers to animals which can be eaten or that are helpful to humans in work, but also ʽomne quod humana lingua et effigie caret/every leaving being lacking human language and aspect’.65 Boso was thus implicitly denying Tebaldo’s humanity. Since the account was written after the fact, during the schism of Anacletus, was Pandulf also suggesting that Innocent II’s election in 1130 was illicit? May the irregularities shared by the 1124 election and partially by that of 1118, also have been an element in making the case for the invalidity of Innocent’s election and the discrediting of his supporters? The Frangipane played a major role in that election as well, together with the chancellor Haimeric, and Innocent was seen as their candidate. Right after the election, Innocent took refuge in the Frangipane’s fortress, the Palladium, and he was consecrated in the church of S. Maria Nova, located in the core of the Frangipane’s territory and the titular church of the papal chancellor and Cardinal-Deacon Haimeric. In these terms, Honorius’s and Gelasius’s elections can be seen as presages of the schism of 1130. As the work of Pandulf was written while the schism was ongoing, he may have been looking for arguments to support Anacletus as pope. As argued by Vircillo Franklin, the description of Honorius’s death points in the same direction because it represents the background for Innocent’s election, which obviously was not mentioned by Pandulf. Mirroring the papal election, the funeral rite was now overturned, the pontiff was not granted a burial in the Lateran church, and lay people performed all rites.66 According to Pandulf, the account of Honorius’s corrupted funeral thus represented the perfect preamble for Innocent’s illegal election. The hypothesis of an attack on Innocent’s election may also entail an ex post facto argument to prove the understanding of the 1118 attack as a reference to the Frangipane’s support of Maurice of Braga/Gregory VIII. If one considers Pandulf’s accounts of the 1118 and 1124 elections as an attempt ʽL’antroponomastica del clero di Roma nei secoli X-XII’, Mélanges de l’Ecole française de Rome. Moyen-Age, Temps modernes 107.2 (1995), pp. 531-532. 65 Isidore of Seville, Etimologie o Origini, A. Valastro Canale, ed. (2 vols; Rome, 2014), i. p.8. For similar nicknames see Glauco Maria Cantarella, ʻA la recherche d’une identité? La papauté du premier XI siècle’, in Instytut Historii Universytetu im Adama Mickiewicza w Poznaniu, thumacz. J. Kujawinski, kons. I. Kraszewski, Wikładi XI (Poznań, 2011), pp. 23-27. 66 Vircillo-Franklin, ʽHistory and Rethoric in the Liber Pontificalis’, pp. 31-32.

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to undermine the choice of Innocent as pope and discredit his supporters, the identification of the alleged Frangipane’s candidate as a hint to Maurice in 1118, despite him not being explicitly mentioned in the text, could be seen as part of this effort. First, it is worth remembering that the Pierleoni were among Gelasius’s supporters, therefore again on the opposite side of the Frangipane already in the 1118 election.67 Moreover, when Pandulf was writing, Gregory VIII was already considered an (anti)pope, as shown by the now lost frescos commissioned by Calixtus II between September 1122 and December 1124 for the Lateran palace. The frescos depicted Maurice kneeling at Calixtus’s knees among the (anti)popes defeated by each ʽlegitimate’ pope.68 If so, why did Pandulf not explicitly mention his name? Asserting that the Frangipane had supported an Antichrist, as Gregory was called, would have been an ideal way of jeopardising or undermining them. A possible explanation of this absence may have been the great embarrassment generated by Maurice to the Roman church due to his close relations with John of Gaeta/Gelasius II who sent him to the emperor. This is why, for example, in the same text Maurice/Gregory VIII only appears en passant, while the driving force of the clash with the papacy is undoubtedly Henry V, the main target of this passage.69 Renzi has argued that Roman accounts of Maurice always tended to minimise the matter and depict Calixtus’s victory over his rival as a triumph.70 Moreover, Renzi has shown how Calixtus could only enter the city because the Pierleoni bribed Gregory’s supporters who were watching over St Peter’s, whose canons, according to Boso, backed Maurice.71 It is possible that Boso, writing during another schism, that of Victor IV, may have been influenced by his own time, when the canons of St Peter effectively sided with the (anti)pope. Yet Renzi points out that Gregory VIII’s surviving letters came both from the Lateran and St Peter’s, and therefore he must have enjoyed wide support among the Roman clergy which, starting from the mid eleventh century, had different interests from the cardinals, as Tommaso Di Carpegna Falconieri has observed.72 This separation between cardinals and local Roman clerics and the extraneousness 67 Wickham, Sonnambuli verso un nuovo mondo, p. 131. 68 Ingo Herklotz, Gli eredi di Costantino: Il papato, il Laterano e la propaganda visiva nel XII secolo (Rome, 2000), pp. 96-105. 69 For some other examples see Renzi, ʽImperator Burdinum Hispanum Romanae sedi violenter imposuit’, p. 13. 70 On Calixtus’s triumph see Herklotz, Gli eredi di Costantino, p. 95. 71 Renzi, ʽImperator Burdinum Hispanum Romanae sedi violenter imposuit’, pp. 11-13; 17-19. 72 Tommaso Di Carpegna Falconieri, Il clero di Roma nel Medioevo. Istituzioni e politica cittadina (secoli VIII-XIII) (Rome, 2002), pp. 148-193.

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of the former to the Urbs may have played a significant part in the 1118 election and could well have played a role in Pandulf’s account. Depicting the Frangipane as the enemy of the pope elected by the cardinals (Gelasius) may have been another part of his endeavour to discredit this family in view of the 1130 double election. Without explicitly mentioning Gregory, Pandulf may have achieved a double objective. On the one hand, he avoided putting too much emphasis on a figure highly embarrassing for the Roman curia because of his relations with John of Gaeta, since the brief mention in Gelasius’s Life was enough. On the other, the Pierleoni may have benefitted from this silence, since in this way it also repressed the memory of their hostility towards Maurice.73 This chapter has pointed out two very different ways of describing the election of Honorius and their subsequent fortunes. Both versions were written ex post facto (though Deusdedit’s letter was very close to the events) and were produced with specific intents. Perhaps echoing the official Roman version, Deusdedit presented an election in accordance with canon law where nothing worth mentioning occurred. The choice of Lamberto was the result of a divine act of love. Unfortunately, it is the only surviving evidence for this way of describing the event and therefore cannot be compared to anything else. However, it is possible to conclude that Deusdedit’s version did not attract attention. During the papacy of Honorius’s two successors, Anacletus and Innocent, another account was created which presents some peculiarities, especially in comparison with the ʽold Liber Pontificalis’. Two elements mentioned in Pandulf’s Life of Honorius, violence and lay power, were linked together and played a fundamental role in his version. In particular, the predominant position of the Frangipane was what brought about the result in 1124. The election was regarded as an internal matter of Roman families and their supporters among the college of cardinals. The uncanonical character of Honorius’s election may have been confirmed by the fact that other accounts, including those of Peter William and Boso, hint at the possibility that violence had taken place. They avoid stressing the role of violence because it might have created embarrassment. By contrast, Pandulf overstated lay violence to suggest that Honorius’s election was invalid. The pope’s biography rotates around the plausible chaos which occurred in 1124 – the seed of truth which gives strength to Pandulf’s account. However, the emphasis placed upon violence and corruption seems more a rhetorical strategy of the author to 73 I would like to thank Prof. Cantarella and Dr. Renzi for the very useful discussions we had on Maurice/Gregory VIII and for helping me to reach this conclusion.

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hide the actual approval Honorius enjoyed, even from the Pierleoni. This attack on Honorius and the Frangipane may have also been intended to make the case for the invalidity of Innocent’s election during the schism of 1130. Considering who the cardinal’s intended readers may have been, the account was probably an attempt to create a further argument to undermine Gregorio’s appointment and support Anacletus as the true pontiff. This new interpretation becomes stronger if one expands the analysis and considers the Life of Gelasius also written by Pandulf. The identification of the Frangipane’s candidate in 1118 as Maurice of Braga seems to fit into this endeavour, depicting them as opposing the cardinals’ choice of the new pope and therefore, in addition to supporting an (anti)pope, throwing a bad light on their subsequent candidates. The second version therefore emerges as a series of accounts that were created in a particular time with precise goals, since they present some shared characteristics, especially the hostility towards the Frangipane. Lay violence thus emerges as a fundamental political weapon to discredit the rival of Anacletus to the papacy and their supporters, implicitly charging them with having usurped the throne of Peter. It was a common accusation expressed in new and more subtle ways.

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Secondary sources Anzoise, Stefania, Per una riconsiderazione dello scisma del 1130. Il ruolo dei cardinali dal 1059, (unpublished Master thesis) (Università di Pisa, 2009). Anzoise, Stefania, ʻPandolfo da Alatri’, in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani, 80 (2015) http://www.treccani.it/enciclopedia/pandolfo-da-alatri Bagliani, Agostino Paravicini, Il Corpo del Papa (Torino: Einaudi, 1994). Benson, Robert L., The bishop-elect. A study in Medieval ecclesiastical office (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1968). Boiteux, Martine, ʽLe feste: cultura del riso e della derisione’, in A. Vauchez (ed.), Storia di Roma dall’antichità ad oggi, Roma medievale (Roma/Bari: Gius. Laterza & Figli Spa, 2001), pp. 291-315. Cantarella, Glauco Maria, Ecclesiologia e politica nel papato di Pasquale II (Roma: Istituto storico italiano per il Medio Evo, 1982). Cantarella, Glauco Maria, Il Sole e la Luna. La rivoluzione di Gregorio VII papa 1073-1085 (Bari: Laterza, 2005). Cantarella, Glauco Maria, ʻA la recherche d’une identité? La papauté du premier XI siècle’, in Instytut Historii Universytetu im Adama Mickiewicza w Poznaniu, thumacz. J. Kujawinski, kons. I. Kraszewski, Wikładi XI (Poznań, 2011), pp. 23-27. Cantarella, Glauco Maria, ʽI Normanni e la Chiesa di Roma. Aspetti e momenti’, in Chiese locali e chiese regionali nell’Alto Medioevo. Spoleto, 4-9 aprile 2013 (Spoleto: CISAM, 2014) Cantarella, Glauco Maria, Manuale della fine del mondo. Il travaglio dell’Europa Medievale (Torino: Einaudi, 2015), Capitani, Ovidio, ʽProblematica della Disceptatio Synodalis’, in Ovidio Capitani (ed.), Tradizione ed interpretazione: dialettiche ecclesiologiche del sec. XI (Roma: Jouvence, 1990). Chodorow, Stanley A. C, Christian political theory and church politics in the midtwelfth century: the ecclesiology of Gratian’s Decretum (Berkley: University of California Press, 1972). Cowdrey, Herbert E. J., Pope Gregory VII, 1073-1085 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998). Di Carpegna Falconieri, Tommaso, ʽL’antroponomastica del clero di Roma nei secoli X-XII’, Mélanges de l’Ecole française de Rome. Moyen-Age, Temps modernes 107.2 (1995), pp. 531-532. Di Carpegna Falconieri, Tommaso, Il clero di Roma nel Medioevo. Istituzioni e politica cittadina (secoli VIII-XIII) (Roma: Viella, 2002).

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Di Carpegna Falconieri, Tommaso, ʽSoprannomi di antipapi nel secolo XII’, Rivista Italiana di Onomastica 8.1 (2002), pp. 161-163. Di Carpegna Falconieri, Tommaso ʽPopes through the Looking Glass, or «Ceci n’est pas un pape»’, Reti Medievali-Rivista, 13, 1 (2012), pp. 121-136. D u m a s , E n r i c o , ʽ S a s s o n e d i A n a g n i ’, i n D i z i o n a r i o B i o g r a f ico degli Italiani, 90 (2017) http://w w w.treccani.it/enciclopedia/ sassone-di-anagni_%28Dizionario-Biografico%29 Fitter, Chris, ʽThe Poetic Nocturne: From Ancient Motif to Renaissance Genre’, Early Modern Literary Studies 3.2 (1997) https://extra.shu.ac.uk/emls/03-2/fittnoct.html Fletcher, Richard A., Saint James’s Catapult. The Life and Times of Diego Gelmírez of Santiago de Compostela (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1984). Golinelli, Paolo, ʽElementi per la storia delle campagne padane nelle fonti agiografiche del secolo XI’, Bullettino dell’Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo 87 (1978), pp. 47-49; Herklotz, Ingo, Gli eredi di Costantino: Il papato, il Laterano e la propaganda visiva nel XII secolo (Roma: Viella, 2000). Hüls, Rudolf, Klerus und Kirchen Roms 1049-1130 (Tübingen: Bibliothek Des Deutschen Historischen Instituts in Rom, 1977). Klewitz, Hans-Walter, ʽDas Ende des Reformpapsttums’, Deutsches Archiv für Geschichte des Mittelalters, 3 (1939), pp. 371-412. Jasper, Detlev, Das Papstwahldekret von 1059. Überlieferung und Textgestalt (Sigmaringen: Jan Thorbecke Verlag, 1986). Krause, Hans-Georg, Das Papstwahldekret von 1059 und seine Rolle im Investiturstreit (Roma: Abbazia di San Paolo, Roma, 1960). Maccaone, Michele, ʽLa cathedra Sancti Petri nel Medio Evo: da simbolo a reliquia’, in Michele Maccarrone, Romana Ecclesia Cathedra Petri (2 vols; Roma: Herder, 1991), pp.1249-1373. Milanesi, Giorgio, Bonifica delle immagini e propaganda in Aquitania durante lo Scisma del 1130-1138 (Verona: Scripta, 2013). Palumbo, Pier Fausto, Lo scisma del MCXXX. I precedenti, la vicenda romana e le ripercussioni europee della lotta tra Anacleto e Innocenzo II (Roma: Reale Deputazione alla Biblioteca Vallicelliana, 1942). Palumbo, Pier Fausto, ʽNuovi studi (1942-1962) sullo scisma di Anacleto II’, Bullettino dell’Istituto storico italiano per il Medioevo e Archivio Muratoriano 75 (1963), pp. 71-103. Rennie, Kriston R., Law and Practice in the Age of Reform. The Legatine Work of Hugh of Die (1073-1106) (Turnhout: Brepols, 2010). Somerville, Robert, Pope Urban II’s Council of Piacenza (Oxford: Oxford University Press,2011). Schmale, Franz-Josef, Studien zum Schisma des Jahres 1130 (Köln: Böhlau, 1961).

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Stroll, Mary, The Jewish Pope: Ideology and Politics in the Papal Schism of 1130 (Leiden: Brill, 1987). Stürner, Wolfgang ʽDas Papstwahldekret von 1059 und seine Verfälschung. Gedanken zu einem neuen Buch’, in Fälschungen im Mittelalter. Internationaler Kongreẞ der Monumenta Germaniae Historica München, 16-19. September 1986 (5 vols; Hannover: Hansche, 1988), ii. pp. 157-190. Thumser, Matthias, ʽDie Frangipane’, Quellen und Forschungen aus italienischen Archiven und Bibliotheken, 71 (1991), pp. 106-163. Veneziani, Enrico The ecclesiology of the papacy of Honorius II (1124-1130), with a preliminary calendar of letters (unpublished PhD thesis) (University of St Andrews 2017). Veneziani, Enrico ʽProblemi dell’elezione di Vittore III (1086-1087)’, Bullettino dell’Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo 118 (2016), pp. 141-156 Veneziani, Enrico, Some Remarks on the Ecclesiology of Honorius II’s Papacy (1124-1130), Rivista di Storia della Chiesa in Italia, 1.2018 (2019), pp. 25-50. Vircillo-Franklin, Carmella, ʽHistory and Rhetoric in the Liber Pontificalis of the Twelfth Century’, The Journal of Medieval Latin, 23 (2013), pp.1-33. Whitton, Whitton, ʽPapal policy in Rome, 1012-1124’ (unpublished PhD thesis) (Oxford University, 1979). Wickham, Chris, Medieval Rome. Stability and Crisis of a City, 900-1150 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015). Wickham, Chris Sonnambuli verso un nuovo mondo. L’affermazione dei comuni italiani nel XII secolo (Roma: Viella, 2017). Youngs, Deborah and Simon Harris, ʽDemonising the Night in Medieval Europe: A Temporal Monstrosity?’, B. Bildhauer and R. Mills, (eds.), The Monstrous Middle Ages (Caerdydd: Gwasg Prifysgol Cymru 2003), pp. 134-154.

About the Author Enrico Veneziani is Marie Sklodowska-Curie Individual Fellow at the Universidade Católica Portuguesa-CEHR Lisbon. He specialises in ecclesiastical history, with a focus on papal history (XI-XIII centuries), on the eleventh-century reform, and on the abbey of Montecassino. He is writing a monograph on The Ecclesiology of the Papacy of Honorius II.

Afterword Ross Balzaretti In memory of Shani D’Cruze (1954-2021)

At a conference in June 2018 the geographer James A. Tyner argued for the importance of the idea of violence as a process which comes into being through political practice and suggested that scholars should ‘interrogate critically how individuals and society simultaneously represent and experience violence’.1 In this short final reflection I will not repeat the points made by the editors in the Introduction or those made by the contributors in their respective chapters. Instead, I offer a few reflections on Tyner’s ‘simultaneous experience of violence and its representation’ as approached through the three broad themes of narrative, gender and place which recur throughout this volume. It is hoped that highlighting this way of looking at violence at the end of this book will prompt readers to make connections for themselves between the various essays. First, some historiographical context is needed. It is no surprise to readers of this book that the so-called ‘Dark Ages’ may have been no more violent than other periods in Italy’s past, including the present. If this was so, why did the image of these centuries as a violent age come about? One answer is that many of the surviving narrative sources privileged certain sorts of violent behaviour which now seem remote and even shocking to us. The obvious example is feuding, although we now know that phenomenon was less prevalent, less brutal and rather more complex than has often been supposed, even in Italy.2 Even so this volume certainly shows that very many 1 James A. Tyner, ‘Introduction: The Idea of Violence’, in James A. Tyner (ed.), The Idea of Violence (Rome: Viella, 2018), p. 8. Tyner has published extensively on the nature and meaning of twentieth-century violence. 2 Guy Halsall, ‘Reflections on Early Medieval Violence: The Example of the ‘Blood Feud’, Memoria y Civilizacion 2 (1999), pp. 7-29; Guy Halsall, ‘Violence and Society: An Introductory Survey’, in G. Halsall (ed.), Violence and Society in the Early Medieval West (Woodbridge: Boydell

Heath, C. and R. Houghton (eds.), Conflict and Violence in Medieval Italy 568-1154. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press 2022 doi: 10.5117/9789462985179_conc

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episodes of political disarray can be found in earlier medieval Italian history, well-documented in diverse written genres as the Introduction outlines. Typically, texts reported violent actions which arose out of disputes over political control both because of their own interest in that violence and its consequences but also to make moral or other points for the benefit of readers, usually by presenting violence as the just result of the actions of God in the world. Another myth is that this period is always poorly documented, but as the chapters taken together make absolutely clear, the amount of evidence is considerable. It is consequently rather surprising that historians of this supposedly violent period took so long to address violence directly in their work, beyond the ‘mindless macho thuggery’ common in popular representations of this topic.3 The Regesta Imperii (a German bibliographic database covering the whole medieval period) records 1265 items in English and French with the word ‘violence’ in their titles and shows that scholars of later rather than earlier medieval societies took the lead in researching it. 4 The earliest paper recorded there was published in 1929 by the French legal historian Edmond Meynial in which he examined the history of violence in French contractual law. Although 1929 is pretty late in the long history of medieval scholarship which burgeoned in Italy and elsewhere from the mid-eighteenth century it was in fact only from the 1970s that numbers of books and articles dealing with violence rapidly increased to the current position where there are an ever-increasing number. This trajectory has mimicked the rise of social history as is implied by Guy Halsall’s point that ‘violence should be viewed through the relationships that it engenders’.5 It seems likely that violence in our own societies has helped to inspire historians’ interest in the topic with many recent studies drawing on anthropological ideas to provide more nuanced explanations of violent behaviour and its early medieval, often ritualised, meanings.6 Philippe Buc’s recent Holy War, Martyrdom, and Terror: Christianity, Violence, and the West, ca. 70 C.E. to the Iraq war is an extreme example of this trend, a book which connects manifestations of religious violence in our own societies with medieval ones and characterises & Brewer, 1998), pp. 19-29; Warren C. Brown, Violence in Medieval Europe (London and New York: Routledge, 2011), pp. 15-16. 3 Halsall, ‘Reflections on Early Medieval Violence’, p. 29. 4 Regesta Imperii: http://opac.regesta-imperii.de/lang_de/suche.php?qs=&ts=violence&ps=&t ags=&sprache=&objektart=alle&pagesize=20&sortierung=d&ejahr= (last accessed 21 May 2021). 5 Halsall, ‘Reflections on Early Medieval Violence’, p. 28. 6 Janet L. Nelson, ‘Violence in the Carolingian World and the Ritualisation of Ninth-Century Warfare’, in Halsall (ed.), Violence and Society in the Early Medieval West, pp. 90-107.

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the whole as ‘Western violence’.7 An early medieval example might be the ‘religious wars’ which Charlemagne conducted in Spain.8 The Italian peninsula featured quite a bit in the earliest published Anglophone and Francophone research about medieval violence, although none of it dealt with the period covered in this book. The main focus was instead on Italy’s Renaissance cities and city-states as exemplified by a famous volume on violence and civil disorder edited by the US historian Lauro Martines in 1972,9 which I remember reading as an undergraduate at UCL in 1981. His introduction (‘The Historical Approach to Violence’) remains a good starting point, fifty years after publication. Over the following decades a very large and rich literature about violence in late medieval Italy has developed with the focus continuing to be its populous cities. This literature encompasses feuds between Guelfs and Ghibellines, sieges and urban sackings, assassinations and forced exile, all themes which can make Renaissance Italy appear as a collection of super-violent Machiavellian polities despite, or perhaps because of, the cultural achievements from which the period gets its name. In contrast, the period covered by this book has not fared so well with historians, at least until the last couple of decades. There have of course been outstanding scholars who have investigated early medieval violence, most notably Guy Halsall whose various works on this topic remain fundamental.10 For Italy, there has not been a book which has examined conflict and violence in Italy across the earlier Middle Ages as a whole, until now.11 Hence this book adds to the established image of a violent Renaissance in Italy the previous half a millennium of its history. Cumulatively, as the Introduction has shown, the chapters reveal Italy between 568 and 1154 to have been comparably violent to that more famous period in similar and different ways. One frequent theme is that Italy was, just as in the fifteenth century, often being invaded. Italy and Her Invaders was the title famously 7 Philippe Buc, Holy War, Martyrdom, and Terror: Christianity, Violence, and the West, ca. 70 C.E. to the Iraq War (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2015). 8 Samuel Ottewill-Soulsby, ‘Those same cursed Saracens’: Charlemagne’s Campaigns in the Iberian Peninsula as Religious Warfare’, Journal of Medieval History, 42.4 (2016), pp. 405-428. Samuel Ottewill-Soulsby 9 Lauro Martines (ed.), Violence and Civil Disorder in Italian Cities, 1200-1500 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1972). 10 Note 2 above and Guy Halsall, Warfare and Society in the Barbarian West (London and New York: Routledge, 2003) and Barbarian Migration and the Roman West, 376-568 (Cambridge: CUP, 2007). 11 Eduardo Fabbro, Warfare and the Making of Early Medieval Italy (568-652) (London and New York: Routledge, 2020) has tackled warfare in the Lombard period between 568 and 652 building in part on Halsall’s ideas.

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used by the Quaker historian Thomas Hodgkin for his monumental study of early medieval Italy,12 in which he explicitly credited a distinctive Italian identity to the fact of invasion by people who, as it were, brought violence with them from elsewhere. For Hodgkin, these incomers were mostly Goths and Lombards, but they also encompassed ‘Saracens’, Magyars, Carolingian and German rulers and many others. His idea has been elaborated more recently by the Italian scholar Girolamo Arnaldi, an expert on the early medieval period, in a slim volume translated as Italy and Its Invaders,13 in which he tells the history of Italy from the fifth to the twentieth century by employing the trope of invasion as a connecting theme. Unsurprisingly, the topic features significantly in this book too. War, if not ubiquitous, was certainly common in the six centuries covered in this book. Many wars are examined above, notably in those chapters dealing with earlier centuries and actual physical bodily violence was obviously an important part of those conflicts. Conflict was not confined to the formalities of war and political struggles within polities often caused acts of extreme violence including beheading, blinding and mutilation,14 including of kings and popes. As similar brutalities happen in our world too, they cannot be said to be peculiarly characteristic of early medieval Italy. Much more characteristic though were the forms of texts (genres) which narrated the conflicts and violence examined in this volume and the ways in which they narrated them. Reading early medieval sources as narratives, carefully constructed or otherwise,15 has been an important trend in recent historical research. Unlike Hodgkin, who read his sources in a positivistic way, the authors represented in this volume pay attention to how surviving sources spoke about violence and conflict in terms of genre, language, style and themes. Narratives are found in all sorts of text and the need to address these explicitly is the most important of my three reflections. Medieval authors usually discussed conflicts and violent behaviour very carefully as very often they wished to 12 Thomas Hodgkin, Italy and Her Invaders, 8 volumes (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1880-1889). Donald Bullough devoted his Nottingham inaugural lecture to this theme, published as Italy and Her Invaders (Nottingham: University of Nottingham, 1968). 13 Girolamo Arnaldi, Italy and Its Invaders, trans. Antony Shugaar (Cambridge, Mass., and London: Harvard UP, 2005). 14 Geneviève Bührer-Thierry, ‘Just Anger or ‘Vengeful Anger’?: The Punishment of Blinding in the Early Medieval West’, in Barbara Rosenwein (ed.), Anger’s Past: The Social Uses of an Emotion (Ithaca, NY: Cornell UP, 1998), pp. 75-91. 15 Elizabeth M. Tyler and Ross Balzaretti (eds.), Narrative and History in the Early Medieval West (Turnhout: Brepols, 2006).

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fix a particular version of events as definitive. This even happened, perhaps surprisingly, in texts where the authorial voice was often weak, such as charters.16 A good example is provided by a number of Milanese charters beginning in the early eighth century and continuing until at least the twelfth century in which it was noted that transactions had taken place ‘without violence being employed’ using the formula ‘in cuius presentia se nullas violentias patire clamavit’.17 In these documents the ostensible actor was a woman and the phrase may well imply that the threat of violence hung over such a transaction, as violence by men towards women seems to have been the default position in Lombard societies.18 Another charter form – the ‘pledge’ – seems to have been designed by churches to prevent future violence towards them as the participants, almost always men, agreed that they would not, for example, try to reclaim family property which had been donated by a family member to an ecclesiastical body. 19 In these two charter forms we have clear evidence of the importance of political practice, in this case the relative political agency of men and women, in shaping conflict and violence in Lombard and Carolingian northern Italy. These sorts of document were intended to manage fairly low-level conflicts which arose as part of the take-over of property by the church which was such an important feature of the social history of this period. These and almost all other texts which dealt with violence were written by male authors who may have been interested in representing violence because they, unlike women, had a duty to exercise violence (according to Bourdieu).20 This was also the case with male ecclesiastics who, on this showing, did not write their texts as docile members of a third sex but were instead happy to include graphic representations of violent acts in their writing (and in other contexts to be physically violent themselves).21 This does not surprise given the frequency of conflict in Biblical texts, passion narratives, hagiographies and in the patristic history of scriptural commentary. This propensity of Christianity 16 Sarah Foot, ‘Reading Anglo-Saxon Charters: Memory, Record, or Story?’, in E. Tyler and R. Balzaretti (eds), Narrative and History in the Early Medieval West (Turnhout: Brepols, 2006), pp. 39-65. 17 Ross Balzaretti, The Lands of Saint Ambrose: Monks and Society in Early Medieval Milan (Turnhout: Brepols, 2019), p. 35. 18 Ross Balzaretti, ‘These are things that men do, not women’: The Social Regulation of Female Violence in Langobard Italy’, in G. Halsall (ed.), Violence and Society in the Early Medieval West (Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 1998), p. 181 note 16. 19 Balzaretti, Lands of Saint Ambrose, p. 208. 20 Pierre Bourdieu, Masculine Domination, trans. R. Nice (Oxford: Polity Press, 2001), p.52. 21 Patricia H. Cullum, ‘Clergy, Masculinity and Transgression in Late Medieval England’, in D. M. Hadley (ed.), Masculinity in Medieval Europe, (Harlow: Longman, 1999), pp. 178-196 at 190-191.

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towards representations of human violence means that how authors put violence into their texts and why is a matter relevant to all the chapters here. Alongside narrative, thinking in a gendered way is crucial because the conflicts and violent behaviours discussed in this book were self-evidently gendered activities, as almost all violence was done by men both to other men and to women and children.22 The sanctioning of such violence, especially sexual violence, was (and is) an essential part of patriarchal societies. 23 However, ‘defining and interpreting violence is a difficult task’.24 Unsurprisingly in a book on this theme there are many instances of male-male gendered violence although, as in the substantial literature on male violence in general, that is not always brought out through explicitly gendered readings.25 The much smaller literature addressing female violence tends to approach the issue via gender. Given that women’s access to political power was certainly circumscribed and contingent in the early medieval period it would seem that violence and conflict was largely the work of men. Why that was (and is) could do with further work by historians given the huge sociological literature on the matter.26 I argued some time ago that Italy under Lombard rule was notably oppressive if you were a woman, as revealed by the evidence of law codes which record many contexts for inter-personal and sexual violence. The unquestioned legality of violence within domestic relationships is clearly evident in these laws which confirm that women could not legally bear arms in this and most other early medieval societies.27 However, in other better-documented societies gendered relationships could certainly be more complex than a simple man/woman binary. For instance, Rachel Stone has argued that ‘while the Carolingian sources overall preferred to praise warriors 22 Ruth Mazo Karras, Sexuality in Medieval Europe: Doing unto Others, third edition (London and New York: Routledge, 2017); Patricia Skinner, Women in Medieval Italian Society 500-1200 (Harlow: Longman, 2001), pp. 41-42, 56-58. 23 Shani D’Cruze, ‘Approaching the History of Rape and Sexual Violence: Notes Towards Research’, Women’s History Review, 1 (3) (1992), pp. 377-397. 24 Shani D’Cruze and A. Rao, ‘Violence and the Vulnerabilities of Gender’, Gender & History, 26 (3) (2004), pp. 495-512 at 499. 25 Klaus Van Eickels, ‘Gendered Violence: Castration and Blinding as Punishment for Treason in Normandy and Anglo-Norman England’, Gender & History, 16 (3) (2004), pp. 588-601 does this, showing how in the areas of northern Europe ruled by the Norman dukes/kings a policy of bodily mutilation of men, including the most male ‘part’, was designed to permanently strip the male victim of the ability to function politically (an overwhelmingly male characteristic at this time). 26 John Archer (ed.), Male Violence (London: Routledge, 1993). 27 Ross Balzaretti, ‘Women and Weapons in Early Medieval Europe’, Il genere nella ricerca storica. Atti del VI Congresso SIS, ed. Saveria Chemotti e Maria Cristina La Rocca (Padua: Il Poligrafo, 2015), pp. 137-50.

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as manly rather than noble, intriguingly those who failed as warriors are not called women or womanlike’,28 which was one of the things which marked out Carolingian warrior culture as distinctive historically. The take-away message here is that most earlier medieval authors took a highly gendered view of violent behaviour, but perhaps they did not realise that they did so. Alongside narrative and gender, place is the other telling topic through which to analyse the many texts discussed in this book. Some authors seem to have been attracted to particular places because they enabled them to write about conflict and violence. Rome, which has featured so much in this book, was one of these sites, where the subtle intertwining of hard politics and texts about politics has recently been observed for the tenth to twelfth centuries.29 Roman ubiquity is not perhaps a surprise given the city’s foundational role in the history of Christianity, a history marked by innumerable conflicts and struggles with both non-Christians and insufficiently ‘Christian’ Christians as was well-known to many of the writers whose work is used in this book. Such struggles continued throughout the medieval period and authors continued to use them to make moral points about good and evil. I want to finish with an example which illustrates all three of my themes: Rome in the time of Pope Gregory II (715-732). It is perhaps to be expected that the pontif icate of such a signif icant pope should have seen many conflicts and violent episodes, most played out in and around Rome, above all his great battle with the Byzantine ruler over iconoclasm which nearly resulted in his murder.30 Gregory supported the saintly (but verbally violent) missionary Boniface, whose own death was violent. He also intervened in contemporary debates about marriage, especially incestuous marriages, a classic site for conflict, especially between rival families. However, the relationship which involved physical violence and extended conflict which I consider here is that with the contemporary Lombard kingdom, ruled by Liutprand between 712 and 744, and its offshoots in the south. Born in Rome, Gregory is evidenced by a variety of sources mostly written by others about him, although there are a few texts from his own hand.31 The 28 Rachel Stone, Morality and Masculinity in the Carolingian Empire (Cambridge: CUP, 2021), p. 89. 29 Thomas S. Brown, ‘Urban Violence in Early Medieval Italy: The Cases of Rome and Ravenna’, in G. Halsall (ed.), Violence and Society in the Early Medieval West (Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 1998), pp. 76-89; Chris Wickham, Medieval Rome: Stability and Crisis of a City, 900-1150 (Oxford: OUP, 2015). 30 Peter Llewellyn, Rome in the Dark Ages (London: Faber and Faber, 1971), pp.166-168. 31 William Kelly, Pope Gregory II on Divorce and Remarriage (Rome: Università Gregoriana Editrice, 1976), p. 41.

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brief but striking biography included within the Liber Pontificalis implies that he had a good contemporary reputation,32 including as ‘a supremely competent diplomat’.33 This Life, unlike many others in the LP, reports much more about contemporary politics and rather less about church endowments than was customary: that was clearly a deliberate choice and amounts to an agenda. The first anonymous contemporary author was clearly interested himself in the considerable political conflict with the Lombard polity, which sometimes escalated into episodes of explicit physical violence. Therefore, Gregory’s Life constitutes a very partisan narrative of violence between Romans, Lombards and Byzantines making its representations of violent episodes good evidence for local attitudes to the violence of outsiders. Further, the existence of two recensions of the Life, one most likely contemporary with the events recorded and the other produced somewhat later in the 750s,34 and demonstrating somewhat greater animosity towards both Lombards and Byzantines as a result of how events had developed in the 730s and 740s, reveals how the local perception must have been that Lombard violence had worsened between Gregory’s death in 732 and the 750s and that this belief was projected back into the later post-mortem account of Gregory’s papacy. Most tellingly, writers working outside of Rome omitted ‘Lombard violence’ even when directly borrowing from this Life. Bede, using the earlier recension of the Life as a source for his Chronicle, did not retain those representations and neither did Paul the Deacon, even though he could have used the later recension, although as a Lombard historian he was predictably kinder to Lombard rulers than the LP. Clearly intended to blacken Lombard reputations and close down debate about their violent activities, both recensions told the story of Gregory’s pontificate for posterity. It may even be that Gregory II himself, as former papal librarian, was at some level aware of the ‘savage’ Lombard past and helped to shape the imagery used in his own Life in those terms. The anonymous authors of the LP repetitively noted (not just in this Life) that the Lombard gens represented the epitome of violent savagery. Their 32 Liber Pontificalis / Le Liber Pontificalis. Texte, introduction et commentaire, vols. 1-2 ed. by Louis Duchesne, vol. 3 ed. by Cyrille Vogel (Paris: De Boccard 1955-1957; 1 st ed. 1886-1892); Raymond Davis (trans.), The Lives of the Eighth-Century Popes (Liber Pontificalis) (Liverpool: Liverpool UP, 1992), pp. 1-6; Rosamond McKitterick, Rome and the Invention of the Papacy: The Liber Pontificalis (The James Lydon Lectures in Medieval History and Culture) (Cambridge: CUP, 2020), p. 14. 33 Thomas F. X. Noble, The Republic of Saint Peter: The Birth of the Papal State, 680-825 (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1984), p. 27. 34 Davis, Lives of the Eighth-Century Popes, p. 1; McKitterick, Rome and the Invention of the Papacy, p. 180.

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condemnation was linguistic, with negative adjectives in their superlative forms littering the text as many modern readers have noted. Having said that, not everything is representation as Lombard rulers were most certainly capable of extreme acts of violence. For example, a prophetic and violent flood in Rome preceded the capture by Beneventan Lombard forces of the fortified site (castrum) of Cumae within the jurisdiction of the Duke of Rome rather than Pope Gregory.35 Despite that state of affairs, the latter nevertheless threatened the treacherous Lombards with the wrath of God ‘in his writings’ (no longer surviving) as he also tempted them with gifts, but to no avail as ‘in their haughtiness they would neither hear his advice nor to return it’ (first version). The Pope called upon the Duke of Naples and his forces to come to the rescue, which they duly did killing 300 Lombards in the process and taking 500 captives to Naples. Even so, the Pope paid the Lombards off with 70lb of gold, presumably to stop them coming back. Were the Lombards the most violent in this particular encounter? The anonymous author noted that they ‘pretended peace’ but nevertheless attacked, so perhaps what we have here is a failed negotiation which ended in violence? Further Lombard attacks followed until the point when Gregory went to meet Liutprand himself outside Rome and ‘was able to soothe the king’s spirit with his pious urging’.36 The pope’s ‘persuasive language’ caused Liutprand to withdraw. A while later Pope Gregory was the subject of a Byzantine plot to kill him which resulted in Lombards coming to his aid alongside the Romans themselves all acting together ‘like brothers in the tie of faith, all of them willing to undergo a glorious death in the pontiff’s defence’, fighting importantly ‘for the true faith’. For Gregory this was a real battle and he ‘armed himself against the emperor as against an enemy, denouncing his heresy and writing that Christians everywhere must guard against the impiety that had arisen’.37 It is important to explain that although the LP deliberately f ixed one version of Liutprand (and of Leo III) for posterity other non-Roman texts portrayed Liutprand rather differently (as did Byzantine sources writing about the emperor). The king presided over the production of a collection of laws which carefully regulated violent activity within the Lombard aristocracy, demonstrating that Lombard society was not organised as a savage free-for-all as implied by papal sources. Gregory, if not his biographers, must have known that Liutprand was a lawmaker, 35 Davis, Lives of the Eighth-Century Popes, p. 7. 36 Davis, Lives of the Eighth-Century Popes, pp. 8-9. 37 Davis, Lives of the Eighth-Century Popes, p. 11.

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even if he had not read his laws, as he had once written to the king in 723 about incestuous marriages,38 presumably expecting action to be taken. Liutprand, in response to that letter, added a law to his corpus ‘because the Pope at Rome, who is head of the church of God and of priests throughout all the world, has exhorted us through a letter that we do not permit such unions to be contracted in any way’.39 The author of Gregory’s biography would surely have recognised the persuasive power of his pope’s eloquent speech in this instance, his main weapon in the face of violent threat, just as he appears not to have known of the complex vicissitudes of the relationship between pope and king (or perhaps he just ignored that as it did not fit his one-sided story). In conclusion, this brief detour into early eighth-century Rome shows how a specific text represented the experience of violence and how that violence and the representation of it did indeed engender very specific relationships.

Bibliography Primary sources Davis, Raymond (trans.), The Lives of the Eighth-Century Popes (Liber Pontificalis) (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 1992). Fischer Drew, Katherine (trans.), The Lombard Laws (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1973). Vogel, Cyrille (ed.), Liber Pontificalis / Le Liber Pontificalis:Texte, introduction et commentaire (3 vols.) (Paris: De Boccard 1955-1957).

Secondary sources Archer, John (ed.), Male violence (London: Routledge, 1993). Arnaldi, Girolamo, Italy and Its Invaders, translated by Antony Shugaar (Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press, 2005). Balzaretti, Ross, ‘These are things that men do, not women’: The Social Regulation of Female Violence in Langobard Italy’, in G. Halsall (ed.), Violence and Society in the Early Medieval West (Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 1998), pp. 175-192. 38 On the Roman synod of 721 where this was discussed see Kelly, Pope Gregory II on Divorce and Remarriage, p. 45. 39 Liutprand 33, trans. Katherine Fischer Drew, The Lombard Laws (Philadelphia: University of Pennsyvania Press, 1973), pp. 160-161.

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Balzaretti, Ross, ‘Women and Weapons in Early Medieval Europe’, Il genere nella ricerca storica. Atti del VI Congresso SIS, ed. Saveria Chemotti e Maria Cristina La Rocca (Padova: Il Poligrafo, 2015), pp. 137-50. Balzaretti, Ross, The Lands of Saint Ambrose: Monks and Society in Early Medieval Milan (Turnhout: Brepols, 2019). Bourdieu, Pierre, Masculine Domination, trans. R. Nice (Oxford: Polity Press, 2001), Brown, Warren C., Violence in Medieval Europe (London: Routledge, 2011). Brown, Thomas S., ‘Urban Violence in Early Medieval Italy: The Cases of Rome and Ravenna’, in G. Halsall (ed.), Violence and Society in the Early Medieval West (Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 1998), pp. 76-89. Buc, Philippe, Holy war, Martyrdom, and Terror: Christianity, Violence, and the West, ca. 70 C.E. to the Iraq war (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2015). Bührer-Thierry, Geneviève, ‘Just Anger’ or ‘Vengeful Anger’?: The Punishment of Blinding in the Early Medieval West’, in Barbara Rosenwein (ed.), Anger’s Past: The social uses of an emotion (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1998), pp. 75-91. Bullough, Donald, Italy and Her Invaders (Nottingham: University of Nottingham, 1968). Cullum, Patricia H., ‘Clergy, Masculinity and Transgression in Late Medieval England’, in D. M. Hadley (ed.), Masculinity in Medieval Europe (Harlow: Longman, 1999), pp. 178-196. D’Cruze, Shani, ‘Approaching the History of Rape and Sexual Violence: Notes Towards Research’, Women’s History Review, 1 (3) (1992), pp. 377-397. D’Cruze, Shani and A. Rao, ‘Violence and the Vulnerabilities of Gender’, Gender & History, 26.3 (2004), pp. 495-512. Fabbro, Eduardo, Warfare and the Making of Early Medieval Italy (568-652) (London: Routledge, 2020). Foot, Sarah, ‘Reading Anglo-Saxon Charters: Memory, Record, or Story?’, in E. Tyler and R. Balzaretti (eds.), Narrative and History in the Early Medieval West (Turnhout: Brepols 2006), pp. 39-65. Halsall, Guy, ‘Violence and Society: An Introductory Survey’, in Guy Halsall (ed.), Violence and Society in the Early Medieval West (Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 1998), pp. 19-29. Halsall, Guy, ‘Reflections on Early Medieval Violence: The Example of the Blood Feud’, Memoria y Civilizacion, 2 (1999), pp. 7-29. Halsall, Guy, Warfare and Society in the Barbarian West (London: Routledge, 2003) Halsall, Guy, Barbarian Migration and the Roman West, 376-568 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007). Hodgkin, Thomas, Italy and Her Invaders, 8 volumes (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1880-1889). Karras, Ruth Mazo, Sexuality in Medieval Europe. Doing unto Others (London: Routledge, 2017).

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Kelly, William, Pope Gregory II on Divorce and Remarriage (Roma: Università Gregoriana Editrice, 1976). Llewellyn, Peter, Rome in the Dark Ages (London: Faber and Faber, 1971). Martines, Lauro (ed.), Violence and Civil Disorder in Italian Cities, 1200-1500 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1972). McKitterick, Rosamond, Rome and the Invention of the Papacy: The Liber Pontificalis (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2020). Nelson, Janet L., ‘Violence in the Carolingian World and the Ritualisation of NinthCentury Warfare’, in Violence and Society in the Early Medieval West (Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 1998), pp. 90-107. Noble, Thomas F.X., The Republic of Saint Peter: The Birth of the Papal State, 680-825 (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1984). Ottewill-Soulsby, Samuel, ‘Those same cursed Saracens’: Charlemagne’s Campaigns in the Iberian Peninsula as Religious Warfare’, Journal of Medieval History 42 (4) (2016), pp.405-428. Skinner, Patricia, Women in Medieval Italian Society 500-1200 (Harlow: Longman, 2001). Stone, Rachel Morality and Masculinity in the Carolingian Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012). Tyler, Elizabeth M. and Ross Balzaretti (eds), Narrative and History in the Early Medieval West (Turnhout: Brepols, 2006). Tyner, James A., ‘Introduction: The Idea of Violence’, in James A. Tyner (ed.), The Idea of Violence (Roma: Viella, 2018), pp.7-21. Van Eickels, Klaus, ‘Gendered Violence: Castration and Blinding as Punishment for Treason in Normandy and Anglo-Norman England’, Gender & History, 16 (3) (2004), pp.588-601. Wickham, Chris, Medieval Rome: Stability and Crisis of a City, 900-1150 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015). Regesta Imperii, http://opac.regesta-imperii.de/lang_de/suche.php?qs=&ts=viole nce&ps=&tags=&sprache=&objektart=alle&pagesize=20&sortierung=d&eja hr= (accessed: 21st May 2021).

About the Author Professor Ross Balzaretti is Head of Department of History at the University of Nottingham. He has published in many journals including Archeologia medievale, Early Medieval Europe, Gender & History, History, Nottingham Medieval Studies, Past & Present. His many publications include Dark Age Liguria: Regional Identity and Local Power, c. 400-1020.

Index Aachen 136, 244, 244 n.3 Abū Maʿšar 163 Acilla, Lombard dux 101 Acquo – see Agilulf Actard of Nantes 197, 198 Adalgis II 226, 227 Adalhard of Corbie 124, 124 n.30, 134,134 n.83, 135, 135 n.90, Adaloald, Lombard king 70 n.28, 70 n.29, 99, 102, 109 Adda (river) 108, 230 Adelaide of Susa 278 Adelchis II, Beneventan dux/princeps 233 Adelchis, Lombard king 119, 121, 123, 126, 132 Adriatic 41, 135 Adventus 43, 245, 245 n.8, 246, 256 Africa 24, 89 n.9, 97 n.56, 106 Agarenes 154 Ageltrude 235 Agilulf, dux of Turin 91 Agilulf, Lombard king 70 n.30, 72, 72 n.38, 72 n.41, 89 n.9, 91, 99-102, 109, 252 Agiulf 95 Agnellus 21-22, 123 Aio, count 128, 128 n.53, 130, Aistulf, Lombard king 70 nn.28, 29, 120, 223 n.65 Alaric II, Visigothic king 70 Alahis, Lombard anti-king 70 nn.28, 29, 89 n.8, 107-8 Alboin, Lombard king 19, 44, 65, 69 n.27, 70 nn.28,29, 71, 74 n.48, 75-8, 80, 92-4, 96, 98, 108 n.117, 125 Alcuin 133 Aldo (of Brescia) 107-8, 108 n.114 Alemannia 118, 213, 234 Alexandria 197 Alps 25, 30, 44, 82, 92, 119, 121, 124, 128, 131, 244, 250, 267 Alpsuinda (Alboin’s daughter) 94 Amalfi 169 n.178, 170, 170 nn.179, 180, 173 Ambrose of Milan 22-3, 25, 193, 214 n.31 Ambrose (Aribert II’s opponent) 285 Anacletus II, pope 299, 301, 303 n.10, 304-5, 316, 318-9 Aniane 136, 139 Annales Augustani 269, 272 Annales Hildesheimenses 269, 271-2, 288 Annales Parmenses 269, 272 Annales Petaviani 127 Anastasius Bibliothecarius 198, 198 n.51, 199-200 Anastasius the Elder 209 Andaberta 206, 206 n.5, 212-3, 215, 236 Andrew (Andreas) of Bergamo 123, 129-30, 134, 141, 233

Angelberga 205-6, 213, 215, 222, 222 n.60, 226, 228-35 Anonymous Valesianus 245 Anselm II of Lucca 38 n.102, 39 n.103, 201 n.62, 287 Ansprand, Lombard king 70 n.30, 81 Ansul 99 Antapodosis 172 n.190, 185, 190 n.18, 191-3, 195, 202 Antioch 196 Antognano 224-5, 228-9, 235 Aquitaine 305 Arabs 31, 151 n.9 Ardingus of Brescia 227-8 Arduinici 278 Arga 108 n.116 Arechis II, Beneventan dux/princeps 132 Arechis, Paul the Deacon’s brother 125 Arezzo 74, 225 Aribert of Milan 274-5, 279-81, 285, 290, 292 Arimanni 280, 283-4 Arioald, Dux/Lombard king 64 n.2, 70 n.30, 102, 102 n.84, 103, 103 n.92, 109 Aripert I, Lombard king 70 n.30, 78, 104 Aripert II, Lombard king 70 n.28, 81 Ariulf 95 Arnold of Brescia 254 Arnold of Milan 292 Arnulf of Milan 266, 270, 292 Arodus – see Harodus Arrane 155 n.32, 164 Asti 79, 105, 252, 254 Astronomer, the 137-8 Atenulf of Capua 164 Athanasius II of Naples 164-5, 170 n.179, 171 n.186 Atto of Vercelli 38, 225 n.78 Auctarit see Autharius Augsburg 250, 272, 279 Augustine, St. 24-5, 214 Authari, Lombard king 16, 65, 70 n.29, 71-2, 97-9, 252, Autharius, Lombard dux 95 Auxilius 188, 190, 199-200 Avars 15, 82, 101, 104-7, 128, 133, 135 Balzaretti, Ross 15 Bamberg 258, 277 Bassacius 209-11 Basil I, Byzantine emperor 154, 164 n.145 Bavaria 71 n.33, 118, 132-3, 244 Bavarian law, 138 Benedict, St. 89 n.11, 209-10 eyes 209 Benedict III, pope 153 n.20, 212-3, 236

338 Index Benedict X, pope 307 Benevento 41, 78-9, 82, 90, 92, 94, 98, 102, 105-6, 126, 132, 134, 159, 161 n.131, 163, 173, 231, 233 Berengar I, Italian king/emperor 31, 42, 185-6, 191-3, 225-8 Berengar II, Italian king 191-2 Bergamo 72, 72 n.39, 94, 100, 129, 141, 233 Bernard, king of Italy 41, 117-8, 135, 135 n.89, 136-41 Bernard of Parma 273, 276-9 Bernard (Monachus) 170 Bertarius 209, 211-2 Bertilla 226-8 Bismantova 278-9 Bognetti, Gian-Piero 68, 75 n.53, 94 Bologna 196, 216, 224, 235, 253, 258 Bolzano 132, 254 Boniface of Canossa 267, 271-5, 279, 281, 287, 289-91 Boniface of the Hucpoldings 223-5, 228 Boniface (Wynfrith) St, 331 Boniface, Berta’s nephew 235 Bonifatius 24 Boso, Cardinal 308-9, 316-8 Boso of Provence 154, 158, 169 Boso of Tuscany 192 Boso, son of Suppo II 226-7 Brenner Pass 247 Brescello 91, 97 Brescia 94, 103, 107, 138, 227, 254 Brixen 254-5 Buccapecus 316 Burchard of Worms 286 Burgundy 30, 92, 154, 193, 286 Byzantine 25, 31, 38, 68, 71, 78, 88-90, 93-8, 101-2, 104-6, 109, 166, 172 n.190, 192, 227, 244 n.7, 321, 332, 333 Bribery 78 Dromons 170 Frankish alliance 98 Italy 78, 88-90, 93-4, 95-7, 101-2, 104-6, 244 Plot 333 Sources 333 Cacco 101 Calabria 17, 132, 162, 164, 171 n.183 Calixtus II, pope 299-300, 303-4, 306, 313-4, 317 Campania 151, 169, 172 Canne, battle of 163 Canossa 39, 55, 269-70, 272-4, 276, 279, 281, 290-1 Capitanei 268, 282, 292 Capua 164, 166 n.161, 170, 172 n.192, 173, 231 Carloman, Pippin I’s brother 209 Carloman see Pippin of Italy Carmen de synodo Ticinensi 108 n.119 Carolingian(s) 14, 25, 30, 34, 37, 117, 121-2, 130, 134-5, 139-40, 142, 154, 163, 166, 185-6, 188-92,

194, 198, 205, 217, 223-4, 226, 229, 246, 284, 328-9 Chronicles 133 Conquest(s) 40, 41, 68, 82, 140 dynasty 231 Europe 205 Italy 42-3, 83, 117, 206, 216, 222, 234 Sources 330 Warrior culture 331 Cathwulf 122 Celestine II, pope 300, 304, 306, 309-10, 314, 316 Cencio II Frangipane 300, 311, 313 Centumcellae see Civitavecchia Chalon-sur-Saône 137, 139 Charlemagne 41, 43, 117-9, 121-33, 135, 139-41, 192, 217, 246, 327 Charles Martel 82 Charles the Bald, emperor 154, 192, 198, 232 Charles the Fat, emperor 31, 226 Chickens 15 Chieri 252, 254 Childebert I, Frankish king 96, 96 n.51 Chiusi 126 Christmas 244 n.3, 248, 252, 265, 290 Chronica Monasterii Casinensis 307, 314 Chronica Sancti Benedicti Casinensis 153 Chronicle of Moissac 129, 132-3, 137 Chronicle of Novalesa 123, 129 Chronicon Salernitanum 233 Cives 44, 268, 280, 282-7, 289, 291-2 Cividale di Friuli 15, 90, 93-4, 106, 128, 130 Civitates 91, 127, 136, 186 Civitavecchia 168-9 Classis (Classe) 97 Clausae 119, 121, 126-7, 133, 136 Clement III, antipope 39, 307 Clementia 249-50, 260 Cleph, Lombard king 40, 70 nn.28-9, 72, 74 n.48, 77-8, 94, 98 Clovis 70 Codex Carolinus 41, 119, 123, 125-6 Codex Diplomaticus Cajetanus 153 Codex Diplomaticus Cavensis 153 Comacina 100 Comitatus 213, 215, 227, 267, 273, 276-9, 287-90 Communes 26-9, 31, 34-6, 267 Conrad II, German emperor 43, 193-4, 265-7, 269-70, 272, 274-7, 279-81, 284-92 Conrad III, German king 244 n.7 Constance – see Konstanz Constans II, Byzantine emperor 105-6 Constantine the Great 20 Constantine V, Byzantine emperor 126 Constantinople 89, 102, 126, 128, 132, 140, 245 Contra Faustum 24 Coronate, battle of 108 Cortenuova 224-5, 228-30 Crescentius 247-50, 260

339

Index

Cremona 229, 248, 255, 280-1, 284 Crusaders 36 Cunigunde 218 Cunimund, Gepid king 76 Cunincpert, Lombard king 70 n.30, 89 n.9, 107-8 Cutting 20 Cyprian 197 Damian, bishop 22 Decem libri Historiarum 92 Decretum 286, 307-8 Deeds of the Bishops of Metz 131 Desiderius, Lombard king 70 nn.30-1, 119, 121-4, 126, 133, 139 Deusdedit 44, 299-301, 303, 308, 318 Diego Gelmírez, archbishop 301, 303 Dieric Bouts 221 Docibilis, Gaetan dux 164 Donizone 269-71, 274, 282-3, 287-9, 291 Droctulf 78 n.65, 91, 95, 97 dukes (duces) 72, 87-8, 90-1, 94, 98-100, 106, 108-9, 133 Eberhard of Bamberg 258 Edictum Rothari 19, 63, 72-3, 91 Einhard 41, 121, 126-7, 133 Eleutherius, Exarch of Ravenna 102 Engelrada 222, 223 n.63 Epistulae Austrasicae 92, 96 Epitome chronicarum Cassinensium 43, 205-7 Erchempert 134, 153, 157, 161 n.123, 163-4, 166-7, 169-70, 172, 174 Ermengarda 141 Ermold the Black 131, Eusebius, Byzantine envoy 102 Exercitales 104 Exercitus 94-5, 98, 133 Eyes, casting 214-5 gouging 20, 73 removal 248 famine 160, 168-9, 243 Faras/farae 71, 93 Ferdulf 108 n.116 Fiorenzuola, battle of 225 Flavius 97-8 Fluvius Frigidus, battle of 107 Formosus, Pope 18, 42, 185-91, 194, 196-7, 199-203 Forum Iulii – see Cividale di Friuli Francia 30, 41, 127, 133, 135, 209, 246 Frangipani 44, 300-1, 304-6, 309-14, 316-9 Franks 31, 71, 82-3, 89-90, 94-5, 100, 109, 117, 119-24, 127, 129-33, 166, 217 Fredegar 91-2, 95, 102-3 Frederick Barbarossa 43, 241, 244-6, 250-8, 260

Frigidus, battle of the 23 n. 41, 107, 120 Friuli 15, 17, 41, 83, 90, 93, 96, 101, 103, 106-8, 125, 127-8, 139, 226 Frothar of Toul 41, 137 Gaeta 160, 164, 170, 173 Gaidulf of Bergamo 72, 89 n.9, 100-1 Gaidus of Vicenza 129 Garardus 159 Gairethinx 98 Garipald of Turin 78, 80, 105 Gasparri, Stefano 119, 123 Gaul 41, 65, 70, 137 Gelasius II, pope 300-1, 303-4, 309, 311-3, 316-9 Genoa 280 Gepids 76 Germans 31, 188, 259, 283 Gervasius 193 Ǧihād 152, 152 n.13 Gisela 191 Gisulf, Lombard dux 15, 71, 72 n.40, 93 Gisulf II, Lombard dux 96, 101 Godepert, Lombard king 70 nn.28-9, 75, 78-9, 104 Gogo 96 Gothic war 89 Grasulf, Lombard dux 96 Grauso of Brescia 107, 108 n.114 Greece 106 Gregoriopolis 168 Gregory the Great, pope 16 n.16, 25, 67, 91, 95, 97, 101, 119, 187, 189, 307 Gregory II, pope 331-3 Gregory IV, pope 153 n.20, 168 Gregory V, pope 244, 247-9 Gregory VII, pope 271, 307 Gregory VIII, antipope 312-3, 316-9 Gregory of Nazianzus 199 Gregory of Tours 76, 92 Grimoald, Lombard king 65, 70 n.29, 75, 78-80, 81 n.79, 89 n.9, 101, 104-7 Grimoald III, Beneventan princeps 132, 135 Guaifer of Salerno 164 Guastalla 230 Guduin 95 Guibert of Ravenna – see Clement III Guido of Crema 258 n.68 Guido II of Spoleto 31, 42, 164, 185-6, 224, 226-7, 235 Guido, Count 224 Guidonids 225-6, 236 Gulfari 101 Guandelpertus 159 Gundeberga, Lombard queen 103 Guy of Spoleto see Guido II of Spoleto Hadrian I, pope 126, 130, 172 n.190 Hadrian II, pope 153 n.20, 198 Hadrian III, pope 186 n.4

340 Index Hadrian IV, pope 244, 253, 256, 258 Haimeric 304, 309, 316 Harodus 103 Harper, Kyle 20 Hector 133 Heito of Basel 140 Helmechis 74 n.48, 76, 76 n.59, 77, 93 Henry II, emperor 193-4, 218-9, 288, 291-2 Henry III, emperor 269 Henry IV, emperor 271, 288 Henry V, emperor 271, 312, 314, 317 Henry IX, duke of Bavaria 244 n.4 Heraclius, Byzantine emperor 102 Heribert of Reggio Emilia 285, 287 Herrschaftswechsel 99 Hersfeld 271 Hetti of Trier 137 Hildebrand of Spoleto 132 Hildesheim 271, 283, 288 Hincmar of Reims 154 n.26, 198-9 Historia Langobardorum 15, 40, 64, 92, 100, 104, 209 Hodgkin, Thomas 66, 328 Honorius I, Pope 102 Honorius II, Pope 40, 44, 299-304, 306-16, 318-9 Hrodgaud of Friuli 41, 83, 117-8, 121, 125-32, 134, 138, 141 Hring 133 Hubald 222, 225 Hucpold 205-7, 214, 217, 222, 224-5, 230-1, 234-5 Hucpoldings 43, 205-7, 215-6, 222, 224-5, 228, 234-6 Hugh of Arles, king of Italy 31, 191-3, 225-6 Hugh of Flavigny 129-30, 307 Hugh of Lyon 307 Hugh of Parma 267, 272-3, 275-9, 289-90 Iberia 65, 70 Imilda 278 Innocent II, pope 299, 301, 303 n.10, 305-6, 316-9 Interregnum 16, 94-6 Invaders 17, 30, 101, 105, 125, 129, 327-8 Investiture contest 34-5, 37 Isaac, Exarch of Ravenna 102 Istria 96, 101, 118 Italo-romans 40, 68-9 Italy 9, 11-2, 14, 17, 24-44, 63-6, 68, 70-1, 77, 8792, 94, 96-8, 105, 108-9, 117-8, 124, 126-7, 131, 134-7, 154, 164, 166, 170, 174, 186, 188, 191-5, 205-6, 209-12, 216, 221-2, 224-5, 229, 234-5, 243-51, 252, 254-7, 260, 265-70, 272, 274-6, 278-80, 282, 284, 286-9, 290, 325-8, 330 Carolingian 42-3, 117, 205-6,234 Central 83, 213, 231 enduring culture 14 invasion 106 Frankish conquest 118, 121-3, 126-7, 132, 141 Lombard 43, 63-6, 87-8, 91-2, 103-4, 119-20, 140

Northern 83, 91, 119, 125, 131, 191, 221, 226, 233, 251, 280, 329 Post-Carolingian 185 Renaissance 327 Salian 265 southern 31, 33, 42, 106, 132, 149, 151, 154-5, 163, 165, 167, 171-2, 174, 212 weapons 95 n.49 Jacobus da Varagine 219 Jester 123 Jihad – see ǧihād Johannes Philagathos 248 John VIII, pope 154, 158, 161-2, 164, 166-70, 174, 186, 200, 231, 234 n.128 John X, pope 196, 202 John XII, pope 195 John XIV, pope 247 n.16 John XV, pope 247 John, bishop of Ravenna 95 John of Biclar 16 n.16, 76 John of Gaeta 311-2, 317-8 John of Mantua 287 John the Deacon 187 Joseph 214 Judith, empress 233, 233 n.123 Judith, daughter of Henry IX 244 Julian Alps 93 Königsnahe 43-4, 206, 236 Konstanz 212-3, 215, 234, 259 Lambert 224, 235 Lambert, son of Adalbert 192 Lamberto, Cardinal 300-1, 306, 309-10, 313-5, 318 Lando III of Capua 164 Lazio 169, 310 Legenda aurea 219 Legnano 243 Leitname 236 40-1 Leo III, pope 333 Leo IV, pope 153 n.30, 163, 168, 168 n.167 Leo, archbishop of Ravenna 123 Leo of Ostia 209 Leo Frangipane 309, 312 Leonidas 124 Leopolis 168 Leontius of Calabria 162 n.134 Liber gestorum recentium 266, 270 Liber Pontificalis 41, 119-21, 123, 153, 168, 299, 301, 309, 311, 318, 332 Lips 20 Liudprand of Cremona 37-8, 42, 185-6, 188-9, 191-6, 202, 225 Liutpert I, Lombard king 70 nn.28-9 Liutprand, Lombard king 65, 69 n.27, 70 n.30, 72 n.41, 74- 5, 80-2, 89 n.9, 90-1, 131, 223 n.65, 331, 333-4

Index

Livenza, river 129 Lodi 243, 255-6 Lombard League 243, 256, 258 Lombards 9, 11, 14, 16, 20, 25-6, 31, 38, 40-1, 43-4, 63-83, 87-109, 117, 119-22, 124, 126-7, 129-35, 139, 166-7, 223 n.65, 252, 328, 332-3 invasion 89, 92, 106 kingship 70, 98 law 19, 21, 81, 103 rupture 68 treasure 93 Lomello 99 Longinus, Exarch of Ravenna 77, 93 Lorsch 271 Lorsch Annals 133 Lothar I, emperor 211, 222 Lothar II, emperor 231 Lothar II, Italian king 31, 192-4 Lothar III 306 n.25 Lotharingia 30 Louis the German, emperor 231-2 Louis the Pious, emperor 41, 136-41, 189-90, 233 Louis II, emperor 43, 153 nn.19-20, 154, 163-4, 191, 205-7, 211-3, 215, 221-4, 226-32, 234 Louvain 221 Lupus, dux of Friuli 89 n.9, 106-7 Lynching 24 Magyars 17, 328 Maielpotus 159 Mainz, Council of 217-8 Maiordomus 74 Mantova 96, 229 Marius of Avenches 16 n.16, 76, 93 n.38 Marozia 192 Marpahis 93 Martin I, pope 104 n.99 Martin of Ravenna 123, 223 Massar see Abū Maʿšar Matilda of Canossa 33, 270-1, 274, 287-9 Maurice (Maurikios) 102 Maurice of Braga see Gregory VIII Maurisio 95 Mauro Botto 160 Maxentius of Aquileia 128 Maximus the Confessor 104 n.99 Mediolanum – see Milan Mediterranean 13, 106, 130, 168, 170-2 Merovingians 70, 122 Metz 92, 131 Mezzogiorno 11, 17, 151 Michael, St. 105, 252, 271 Mimulf, Lombard dux 72 n.39, 100 Ministerium 189-90 Minturno 169 Modena 212-3, 216, 221 n.56, 223-6, 228, 230, 235, 284 Montecassino, monastery 90, 157, 169, 206, 209-11, 234-6, 281, 312

341 Monte Gargano 105 Mor, Carlo Guido 125 Muratori, Ludovico 208 Murder 19, 70, 70 n.29, 74 n.48, 75-7, 81 n.82, 83, 92, 94, 99, 104, 140-1, 212-3, 215-8, 310, 331 Mutinensis – see Modena Nantes 197-198 Napoleon 208 Narses 67 n. 17, 89 n. 9, 120 national kingdom 14, 43 Nicholas I, pope 168-169 Nicholas II, pope 307-308 Nilo of Grottaferrata 249 Nocera 160 Nonantola 223, 224, 230, 235 Nordulf 101-102 Notker of St Gall 122 Normans 25-26, 31-32, 34, 35-36, 38, 254-255, 330 n. 25 Nose 20, 248, 255 Novara 252 Novatian, Pope 197 Odoacer 98 Ordinatio Imperii 136, 139, Origo gentis Langobardorum 91 Orosius 23, 25, 120 Ostia 160, 168 Ostrogoths 13 Otranto 119-120 Otto I 225, 247 n. 15 Otto II 219, 244 n. 3, 247 n. 14 Otto III 243-245, 246, 247-250, 257-258, 259-260 Otto of Freising 250-251, 252, 253-255, 256-257 Ottonians 25, 31, 191-192, 194-195, 271, Paderborn 276 Pagans 23-24 Palatium 19, 77, 315 Palumbi Bussi 160 Pandulf, Cardinal 301, 303-319 Papacy 26, 33-35, 185, 186-187, 188, 191, 195, 202, 247, 302-303, 305, 306, 309, 310-311, 314, 317, 319 Pannonia 92, 128, 133 Parma 43-44, 95, 96, 227, 265-292 Paschal II, pope 312, 314 Paschasius Radbertus 124 Patarenes 35 Paulinus of Aquileia 127-128 Paul the Deacon 15, 37, 64-65, 72, 76, 90, 94, 98-99, 100-101, 103-104, 105-106, 107, 120, 125, 130, 131, 209, 332 Pavia 40, 68, 71, 74-75, 79, 82-83, 91-93, 94, 99-100, 104, 105-108, 117, 119, 122, 124, 126, 128, 193, 206, 229-230, 247-248, 250, 251-253, 255, 266, 291

342 Index Pelagius I, pope 219 Perctarit, Lombard king 65, 71 n. 33, 75, 78-80, 81 n. 79, 104-105, 107 Peredeo 76 Perpendiculum 38, 225 n. 78 Persians 95 n. 47, 102, 124 Persiceta 235 Perugia 95 Peter, St. 121, 168, 196, 245, 253 Peter the Deacon 209-211, 307 Piacenza 95, 226-227, 229, 253-254, 278 Council of 313-314 Piedmont 226-227 Pierleoni 304-305, 310-311, 313, 315, 317-319 Pietro 315 Uguccione 315 Pippin I (III) 43, 119-120, 122, 151, 245, 246, 253, 256 Pippin of Italy 41, 118, 121, 128, 130, 132-135 Pirates 17, 151 n. 9 Plague 119, 162 Ploughshares 212-213, 217-220 Po 92, 97, 128, 206, 222, 224, 228, 229, 230, 247, 252, 254, 278 Pohl, Walter 68, 123 Ponthion 246 Porto 168, 186, 190, 199-200 Potentes 43-44 Potiphar 214 Poupardin, Rene 11 Precaria 280 proceres regni 205-206, 221-223 Protase/Protasius 193 Pseudo-Anterus 201, 202 Pseudo-Isidore 199, 200-201 Puglia 117 Qaghan 15 Rabanus Maurus 217 Radoald 101 Ragemprand 235-236 Rahewin 257 Ranger of Lucca 287 Ratchis 70 n. 31, 74 n. 47, 76 Ratold of Verona 138 Ravenna City 21, 93, 96, 97, 117, 132, 195-196, 202, 222-223, 224, 247, 248, 266, 292 Exarchate 89, 102, 103-104, 206, 216, 222-223 Rebellio 89, 128, 138 n. 101 Reggio (Emilia) 95, 216, 224, 230, 278, 287 Reggio di Calabria 98 Reichenau 140 Reimitz, Helmut 121 Riot 265-292 Risorgimento 69 Rižana, plea of 128

Rodelenda 155 n. 31, 159, 167 Rodoald, Lombard king 104 Romanos, Byzantine emperor 192 Romanus, Exarch of Ravenna 96 Rome 21-22, 38, 42, 44, 89, 104 n. 100, 106, 119, 126, 130, 132, 134, 140, 158, 160, 163, 164-165, 166, 168, 169, 172, 185-188, 190, 195, 196-202, 212, 244, 245-246, 247-248, 250, 253-254, 258, 259-260, 273, 284, 292, 301, 303, 310, 312-313, 314, 331-332, 333-334 Romilda 15, 18, 101 Romuald, dux of Benevento 106-107 Roncaglia 250, 251, 258 Rosamunda 75-77 Rothari, Lombard king 19, 69 n. 27, 70 n. 30, 72-73, 91, 103-105 Rothari, Liutprand’s relative 81-82, Royal Frankish Annals 41, 120-121, 122-123, 127, 131-132, 136-137, 139, 140, 154 n. 26 Rudolf II, Italian king 224, 225, 228 Salerno 159-160, 163, 164, 167, 170, 173 Salian 14, 25, 43, 271, 287 San Vitale, Basilica 97 ‘saracens’ 17, 18, 105-106, 151 n. 9, 152-173, 209, 211-212, 213, 327-328, Satan 41, 137 Savona 280, 284 Sawdān, amir of Bari 155 n.32, 159, 164 Saxo 306, 314-315 Scarae 119, 120 Scilpor 76 Sculdahis 108 n. 116 Secundus of Trent(o) 100 Sicily 9, 25-26, 98, 244, 253, 254-255 Siconulf, Beneventan princeps 163 Siena 74, 231 slaves/slavery 20-21, 96, 103 n. 89, 152, 161-162, 171, 214 Smaragdus, Exarch of Ravenna 101 Socrates of Constantinople 198-199 Spoleto 40-41, 79, 82, 90, 92, 94, 97, 98, 102, 126, 132-133, 254 St. Benedict in Adili 207, 234-236 St Sylvester of Nonantola 223-224, 230, 235 Stabilis 127 Ständeordnung 268 Staufen 9, 14, 25, 244 n. 4, 250 Stephen II (III), Pope 67, 209, 246, 253, 256 Stephen V, pope 186 n. 4, 309 Stephen VI, Pope 186-187, 190, 202 Stirps regia 41, 71 n. 33 Streitschriften 187, 199 Sueves 70 n. 32, 91 Suppo II 225-227 Suppo IV 225, 228 Suppo of Brescia 138-139 Supponids 43, 206, 215, 221-222, 225-230, 236 Sword and sandal 75

343

Index

Symmachus 245-246 Synod of the Corpse 42, 187-196, 199, 202 Tabacco, Giovanni 68, 185-186 Tanaro 229-230 Taranto 106, 171 n. 190 Tarpeia 130 Tassilo III, Bavarian dux 132 Tebaldo, cardinal 300, 304, 306, 310, 314, 315-316 Thangmar 259-260 Thegan 138, Theodora 195-196 Theodulf of Orlèans 136 Theodolinda, Lombard queen 76 n. 56 Theodoric the Great, Ostrogothic king 245, 251 n. 35 Theodosius I, Roman emperor 23 n. 31, 107 n. 111, 120 Theophylact Simocatta 95, 97 Theuderada 107 Thietmar of Merseburg 249-250 Thomas, Sir William 63-64 Thrace 97 thumb 20 Thuringia 91, 100, 194 Tiber 42, 160, 168, 186-187, 248 n. 23 Tiberius II, Byzantine emperor 95 Ticino 229-230, 251-252 Ticinum – see Pavia Titus Tatius 130 Tortona 250, 252, 254-255 Tours 76, 92, 198 Trajan, Roman emperor 168 Trebbia 226, 229-230 Treasure 93-94, 98-100, 133, 192-193 Trent(o) 23-24, 94, 100, 107, 132, 254, 255 Treviso 101, 127, 129 Tucbaldus – see Hucpold Trojans 133 Turin 78, 91, 94, 99, 100, 102, 105, 252, 254, 278 Tuscia 79, 192, 212, 222, 253, 273 Ubald of Cremona 281 Ulfari 72 n. 39, 89 n. 9, 101 Unterkönig 222 Urban II, pope 313-314

Val di Non 23-24 Valvassores 267, 268, 281, 282, 284-286, 287, 289, 292 Venice 117 Vercelli 38, 252 Verdun 129 Verona 19, 77, 92-93, 99, 100, 138, 227, 244 n. 3, 247, 254 Via Ostiense 168 Via Portuense 168 Victor III, pope 307-308 Victor IV, pope 317 Vigilius of Trento 23-24 Violence definition 9, 10-12, 14-15, 17-25, 26-27, 42, 65-66, 150-152, 165-166, 325-327 legitimate 18-19, 24, 28-29, 43, 65-66, 72-73, 80, 121, 124, 163, 291, 303 private 18-19, 66 public 18-19, 20, 42, 66, 75-76, 122, 163, 186, 248-250 symbolic 18, 93, 150, 195-196, 218 targets 18, 68, 73-75, 77, 82, 83, 163, 169, 266, 288-289, 317 urban 14, 19, 21-22, 26, 27-29, 43-44, 158, 167, 288, 327 Visigoths 65, 70 Völkerwanderung 66-67 Vosges 136, 138 Vulgarius 188 Wala 135-136 Waldandus 127-128 Walfa 159 War 12 n. 3, 22-23, 24-25, 35, 38, 42, 69, 89, 90-91, 93 n. 34, 102, 105, 106, 108, 118, 121, 124 n. 29, 133, 135, 152, 157, 163-164, 168, 172, 186, 193, 194, 226, 326-327, 328 Wibert of Ravenna 39, 307 Wibod of Parma 227 Wickham, Chris 20, 28, 64 n. 3, 66 n. 13, 71 n. 34, 71 n. 39, 74, 268, 306, 310, 311, 312, 313, 314, 315 Wiletruda 155 n.31, 160, 167-168 William I, king of Sicily 244, 253, 255 Wipo 269-270, 282-283, 284-286, 288, 291 Worms 286, 306 Zacharias, Pope 122 Zangrolf of Verona, Lombard dux 100