King Alfonso VIII of Castile: Government, Family, and War 9780823284160

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King Alfonso VIII of Castile

Fordham Series in Medieval Studies Mary C. Erler and Franklin T. Harkins, series editors

King Alfonso VIII of Castile Government, Family, and War Miguel Gómez, Damian Smith, and Kyle C. Lincoln, Editors

Fordham University Press New York

2019

Copyright © 2019 Fordham University Press All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other— except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher. Fordham University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or thirdparty Internet websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate. Fordham University Press also publishes its books in a variety of electronic formats. Some content that appears in print may not be available in electronic books. Visit us online at www.fordhampress.com. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Gómez, Miguel, 1975– editor. | Smith, Damian J., editor. | Lincoln, Kyle C., editor. Title: King Alfonso VIII of Castile : government, family, and war / Miguel Gómez, Damian Smith, and Kyle C. Lincoln, editors. Description: New York : Fordham University Press, [2019] | Series: Fordham series in medieval studies | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: lccn 2018059020 | ISBN 9780823284146 (cloth : alk. paper) Subjects: LCSH: Alfonso VIII, King of Castile, 1155–1214. | Castile (Spain)—Kings and rulers— Biography. | Spain—History—711–1516. Classification: LCC DP139 .K56 2019 | DDC 946/.02092 [B] —dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018059020 Printed in the United States of America 21 20 19

5 4 3 2 1

First edition

Contents List of Abbreviations / ix Alfonso VIII: An Introduction / 1

Teofilo F. Ruiz 1. Ideas of Kingship in the Preambles of Alfonso VIII’s Charters / 11

Joseph F. O’Callaghan 2. Selling Castile: Coinage, Propaganda, and Mediterranean Trade in the Age of Alfonso VIII / 30

James J. Todesca 3. The Infantazgo in the Reign of Alfonso VIII / 59

Janna Bianchini 4. “Happier in Daughters than in Sons”: The Children of Alfonso VIII of Castile and Leonor Plantagenet / 80

Miriam Shadis 5. A Wall and a Shield: Alfonso VIII and the Military Orders / 102

Sam Zeno Conedera, S.J. 6. Holy War and Crusade during the Reign of Alfonso VIII / 118

Carlos de Ayala Martínez 7. Alfonso VIII and the Battle of Las Navas de Tolosa / 143

Miguel Gómez 8. Alfonso VIII and the Papacy / 172

Damian Smith 9. “Si Possides Amicum, in Temptatione Posside Illum”: Alfonso VIII and Peter the Catholic / 185

Martín Alvira Cabrer

viii contents 10. A Prosopography of the Castilian Episcopate in the Reign of Alfonso VIII / 204 Kyle C. Lincoln 11. Via impugnandi in the Age of Alfonso VIII: Iberian-Christian Kalām and a Latin Triad Revisited / 221

Thomas Burman Acknowledgments / 241 List of Contributors / 243 Index / 245

Abbreviations AC Sig ACT AHN AT BC

BMCL BRAH BS

CDCL

CCCM CM CMR

CVR Documentación . . . Burgos DRH

Archivo de la Catedral de Sigüenza Archivo de la Catedral de Toledo Archivo Histórico Nacional, Madrid Julio Porres Martín-Cleto, ed., Los Anales Toledanos I–II (Toledo: Diputación Provincial de Toledo, 1993) Bullarium ordinis militiae de Calatrava (Madrid: Marin, 1759), reedited by Derek Lomax (Barcelona: El Alvir, 1981) Bulletin of Medieval Canon Law Boletín de la Real Academia de Historia Antonio Francisco Aguado de Córdova, Alfonso Antonio Alemán y Rosales, and José López Agurleta, eds., Bullarium equestris ordinis sancti Iacobi de Spatha (Madrid, 1719) Emilio Sáez Sánchez et al., eds., Colección Documental del Archivo de la Catedral de León, 13 vols. (León: Centro de Estudios e Investigación San Isidoro, 1987–1999) Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis (Turnhout: Brepols 1953–) Lucas of Túy, Chronicon mundi, ed. Emma Falque, CCCM 74 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2003) David Thomas et al., Christian-Muslim Relations: A Bibliographical History (Leiden/Boston: E. J. Brill, 2009–) César Hernández Alonso, ed., Crónica de Veinte Reyes (Burgos: Ayuntamiento de Burgos, 1991) José Manuel Garrido Garrido, ed., Documentación de la catedral de Burgos, 5 vols. (Burgos: Ediciones J.M. Garrido Garrido, 1983–1984) Rodrigo Jiménez de Rada, Historia de rebus Hispanie sive Historia Gothica, ed. Juan Fernández Valverde, Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis 72 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1987)

ix

x Abbreviations ES

González, Alfonso VIII

JMIS MDI

MEC

MGHSS MHE

PCG

PL PU Spanien

PU Portugal

Register

RHGF

Enrique Florez et al., eds., España sagrada: Theatro geographico-historico de la iglesia de España (Madrid: Marin, 1747–1879) Julio González, El reino de Castilla en la época de Alfonso VIII, 3 vols. (Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1960) Journal of Medieval Iberian Studies Demetrio Mansilla, ed., La documentación pontificia hasta Inocencio III (965–1216) (Rome: Instituto Español de Estudios Eclesiásticos, 1955) Miquel Crusafont, Anna M. Balaguer, and Philip Grierson, eds., Medieval European Coinage, vol. 6, The Iberian Peninsula (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013) Monumenta Germaniae Historica Scriptores (in folio), 32 vols. (Hanover, 1826–1934) Antonio Joachim Dias Dinis, ed., Monumenta Henricina, 15 vols. (Coimbra: Subcomissao de “Monumenta Henricina,” 1960–1974) Ramon Menéndez Pidal, ed., Primera Crónica General de España, 2 vols. (Madrid: Editorial Gredos, 1955) Jacques-Paul Migne, ed., Patrologiae latinae cursus completus, 221 vols. (Paris: Garnier, 1844–1864) Paul Fridolin Kehr, ed., Papsturkunden in Spanien, Vorarbeiten zur Hispania pontificia, 2 vols., Abhandlungen . . . Göttingen, phil.-hist. Klasse, n.s., 18/2, 22: i (Katalanien); ii (Navarra und Aragon) (Berlin, 1926, 1928; repr. Göttingen, 1970) Carl Erdmann, ed., Papsturkunden in Portugal, Abhandlungen . . . Göttingen, phil.-hist. Klasse, n.s., 20/3 (Berlin, 1927; repr. Göttingen, 1970) Othmar Hageneder, Anton Haidacher, et al., eds., Die Register Innocenz’ III, 13 vols. to date (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1964–2015) Martin Bouquet and Leopold Delisle, eds., Recueil des historiens des Gaules et de la France, 25 vols. (Paris: Victor Balmé, 1869–1904)

King Alfonso VIII of Castile

KINGDOM OF LEON

Santander

Oviedo

Pamplona

Lugo

Santiago de Compostela

Orense

Burgos

Braga

KINGDOM OF

Zamora

Salamanca

Albarracín Huete Cuenca

Toledo

Barcelona

ARAGON Tarragona

Alcañiz

Uclés

Teruel

Ademuz

Majorca

Moya

Valencia

Consuegra

Trujillo

Girona

Tortosa

Madrid

Talavera

Alcántara

Santarem

Daroca

Sigüenza

Plasencia

Lleida

OF

Guadalajara

Béjar Coria

Coimbra

Soria

CROWN

Segovia Ávila

Viseu

La Seu d’Urgell

Huesca Zaragoza

CASTILE

PORTUGAL

Jaca

Tudela

Palencia

KINGDOM OF

Perpinyà

KINGDOM OF NAVARRE

León

Montánchez

Badajoz

Lisbon

Calatrava Alarcos

Albacete

Játiva

ALMOHAD

Alicante

Las Navas de Tolosa

Beja

CALIPHATE

Úbeda

Córdoba

Murcia Jaén

Écija

Huelva

Silves

Lorca Baza

Disputed lands of Tierra de Campos

Sevilla Granada Málaga Cádiz

0

Denia

Salvatierra

Argel Acquired lands in Navarre (1199-1204)

Almería

Ronda Christian-Almohad Borders (1211) Algeciras

100 km

Tánger

Ceuta

Orán

Castilian Conquests (1212-1214)

Battles

Martín Alvira ©

Alfonso VIII: An Introduction Teofilo F. Ruiz

B

orn in November 1155, the son of Sancho III of Castile-León and Blanche of Navarre, Alfonso VIII ascended to the throne in 1158 on the death of his father. His minority was a troubled period. Noble factions fought for control of the regency, seeking to appropriate as much of the royal prerogatives and domain as possible. In twelfth-century Castile, two great noble factions, the Castro and the Lara, dominated the political life of the realm. This was especially the case during a royal minority. In the absence of a strong king, these noble lineages or clans exercised a great deal of influence on the political life of the realm. Their vast possessions, large number of vassals, armed retinues, and connections to lesser noble families and to the royal house itself often made them regard the Crown as something that they ought to control or that was within their reach. The Castro and the Lara fought for control of the regency of Alfonso VIII, and although the Castro prevailed in armed conflict, the regency eventually fell into the hands of the Lara. Alfonso VIII grew therefore under the heavy burden of his noble regents. External pressure and threats paralleled internal conflicts. Alfonso VIII’s uncles, Ferdinand II of León (1157–1188) and Sancho VI of Navarre (1150–1194) also saw their nephew’s minority as a golden opportunity to claim Castilian lands on the frontiers of their respective kingdoms. But once he came of age and assumed control of his kingdom, it took Alfonso VIII a great deal of his adult life to recover the lands illegally seized by his uncles and to diminish the influence of noble factions. It is no coincidence that Alfonso VIII’s greatest triumphs and his most successful period came after the demise of his two contentious and ambitious uncles. But threats came from other sources. By the middle of the twelfth century, the Almoravids fell to the rising Almohad power. Emerging from the mountain areas of the region which is today Morocco, the Almohads conquered most of North Africa and Andalusia from the Almoravids and the kings of taifas. By the second half of the twelfth century, the Almohads built an expansive and successful Western Mediterranean empire. In many respects, Alfonso VIII’s reign would be defined by his defeats at the Almohads’ hands and by his eventual victories over them, culminating with the battle of Las Navas de Tolosa in 1212. The great victory at Las Navas however was still very much in the future. In mid-twelfth-century Castile, it would have been hard to imagine that such success was possible or that the young boy, held securely in the hands of his Lara relatives, would grow to be one of the greatest kings in medieval Castilian

1

2 Teofilo F. Ruiz history. His wise policies for the internal governance of the realm, military successes, matrimonial alliances with royal houses outside Iberia, sponsoring of significant landmarks in Castile’s architectural history, and efforts to create sites of memory for Castile’s royal house, certainly justify Alfonso VIII’s reputation and his claims to a distinguished place among Castilian monarchs. In many respects, this volume, addressing neglected aspects of Alfonso VIII’s rule, is a timely contribution to our understanding of Alfonso VIII and his era. In the pages that follow, I would like to do two things: (1) to note the canonical and recent historiography of his reign; (2) to briefly outline some of the salient moments and deeds of his long rule. Already close to six decades since its original publication in 1960, Julio González’s monumental study of Alfonso VIII’s reign, El reino de Castilla en la época de Alfonso VIII, provides a careful narrative of the kingdom’s political life. González’s work was doubly important not only because it offered the first scholarly monograph on the king since the Marquis de Mondéjar’s study in 1783, but because the 1960 edition included two substantial volumes of documents (at a time when Spanish archives were not always easily accessible) to illustrate the history of the period and González’s interpretations of Alfonso VIII’s policies. More, however, was needed that fitted the thematic and methodological concerns of the early twenty-first century. There have certainly been a large number of articles written on the king or on aspects of his rule and cultural program. A great deal of attention has been given to the king’s interaction with the military orders, his role in the Reconquest, his distinguished and very accomplished family, and, most of all, to his signal victory at Las Navas de Tolosa in 1212. What is clear from the scholarly attention the king and his family have received is that Alfonso VIII played a pivotal role in the history of the realm. This role was not limited to his military conflict with Islam in southern Iberia, but was equally important in diverse (but intertwined) aspects of Castile’s social and cultural life. What were the contributions of Alfonso VIII to the realm and to Castilian society? Was his reign a watershed in peninsular and Western European medieval history? Until his signal victory at Las Navas in 1212, Alfonso VIII, once he reached his majority, toiled unceasingly to restore his royal domain and Castile’s jurisdiction. He also sought to tame the high nobility. All these efforts were centered on, and given legitimacy by, his campaigns to stop Almohad advances, to expand Castilian presence in the region of New Castile, and then to defeat his Muslim adversaries. As some of the excellent articles in this volume show, developments in the chancery, diplomatic efforts, and the issuing of charters or fueros (municipal law) to reconquered towns—the most impressive of them the Fuero de Cuenca (1189)—represented a comprehensive effort to secure the primacy of the Crown within Castile and of Castile within the peninsula. First, once he assumed power, Alfonso VIII began a well-plotted policy of recovering lands alienated from the Crown during his minority. Either through

Introduction 3 military action or through diplomacy (the intervention of the English King Henry II on behalf of his son in law was crucial), Castile recovered most of the lands usurped by Navarre in the rich region of the Rioja. Moreover, as Simon Barton has shown, the reign of Alfonso VIII was critical in the remaking of noble houses and their relationship with the king. The emergence of primogeniture, the growing consolidation of aristocratic and bourgeois property, and the close relation between the high nobility and the court transformed the ties between the Crown, noble houses, and cities. Depending on royal largesse until the mid-twelfth century, the advance of the royal-led Reconquest offered the high nobility unique opportunities on the frontier in terms of new lands, ransom, and booty. Wealth came from the hands of the king, often binding the high nobility to royal leadership. Second, during the latter half of the twelfth century, a nascent royal bureaucracy expanded the king’s power and the Crown’s presence in the realm. Bureaucratic procedures formalized the Crown’s relations with diverse social groups. In this respect, the beginnings of the meetings of the Cortes, or protoCortes, the so-called Curia Plena, under Alfonso VIII (with recorded meetings after his majority in 1178, 1182, 1184–1185, 1187, and 1188) attest to the role in which formalized gatherings (which now began to include, besides representatives of the high nobility and the clergy, urban procurators) created a new sense of the connection between Crown and Kingdom. In this respect, the mentioned Fuero de Cuenca represented a watershed in the legal history of the realm. The Fuero de Cuenca, officially given to the newly conquered city of Cuenca (one of the strategic keys to New Castile), was later given (with small modifications) to other newly conquered towns on the frontier, including Alarcos, Iniesta, and Baeza, among others. Alfonso VIII’s active legislative program and the granting of fueros to new settlements served as a model for the large number of charters issued by Ferdinand III (his grandson) and for those of Alfonso X (his greatgrandson). Third, after his successful efforts to restore his rule over the Rioja and to gain the support of the high nobility, the king turned his attention towards the struggle against the Almohads. It was, however, not an easy road. His capture of Cuenca in 1177 and his incursions south of the Tajo in the 1180s were somewhat eclipsed by the crushing defeat he suffered at the hands of the Almohads at Alarcos in 1195. Although this defeat did not mean the loss of Cuenca or of other significant and strategic strongholds along the shifting frontiers between Islam and Christianity, Alarcos brought the Almohads to the southern outskirts of Toledo and represented a significant threat to the realm. It was when faced by these challenges that Alfonso VIII proved his worth. Although he failed to convince his cousin, former son-in-law, and frequent antagonist, Alfonso IX of León, to join in an anti-Almohad alliance, Alfonso VIII’s diplomatic skills, family connections, and the new interest of the Roman Church under Innocent III to fight enemies on the home front allowed

4 Teofilo F. Ruiz him to forge and lead a broad coalition against the Almohads. The king of Navarre, Sancho VII, the ruler of the Crown of Aragon, Peter II, French knights, and the Iberian peninsular military orders joined forces on what was one of those rare peninsular examples of a fairly united front against Islam. On July 16, 1212, a large international Christian army, under the leadership of Alfonso VIII, inflicted a crushing blow, capturing a great deal of the Almohad treasure, as well as the green silk banner that may still be seen at Las Huelgas of Burgos. The Christian victory at Las Navas de Tolosa has long held a central place in the history of late medieval Castile. That emphasis is very much justified. If from the collapse of the Caliphate at Córdoba in the 1030s onwards the relations between Muslim and Christians had oscillated between Christian advances and Muslim counterattacks, Las Navas de Tolosa opened the door for Christian hegemony in the peninsula. Even though there were some Muslim attempts to reverse the outcome of Las Navas de Tolosa (the invasions by the Marinids, above all), the fate of the peninsula was, for all practical purposes, decided in favor of the Christians. It is not a coincidence that Alfonso VIII’s grandson, Ferdinand III (1217–1252) carried out successful campaigns in Andalusia that culminated with the capture of Córdoba in 1236 and Seville in 1248, while in the eastern parts of the peninsula, James I of Aragon (1213–1276) conquered Valencia and its kingdom in 1238. But when the Christians gained the upper hand, there were also consequences that went beyond the territorial gains. Harsh measures against Muslims, along with vitriolic discourses and representations of Muslims and Jews, resulted from Christian hegemony with after-effects that shaped the social history of peninsular kingdoms until the early modern period. Fourth, Alfonso VIII’s close association with the nascent military orders in the peninsula, one of the central topics of this book, had significant consequences for his reign and for the realm. His donation of Uclés as the Castilian headquarters to the recently founded military order of Santiago served important strategic purposes. Together with the king’s ties to the military orders of Calatrava and Alcántara (the later originally connected to the Leonese monarchy), Alfonso VIII obtained a great deal of the military muscle needed to contain and, eventually, defeat the Almohads. Moreover, the spiritual connection that Alfonso VIII established with the military orders and with new Cistercian foundations enhanced the king’s prestige and his claims to spiritual charisma. Claims to the sacred through his pious works, crusades, and efforts to reconquer lands in the hands of Islam are of great importance when one considers that Alfonso VIII, like his father, eschewed coronation and anointment, legitimating his power and claims to the throne through his military role and his relations to the Church and crusading orders. Alfonso VIII’s notable success in brokering matrimonial alliances (for himself and for his children) played a significant role in his diplomatic efforts to ensure Castilian superiority in the peninsula and peace with his neighbors. It was also crucial for his long-standing efforts to organize a broad coalition against

Introduction 5 the Almohads. In many respects, his great victory at Las Navas de Tolosa resulted from the king’s adroit use of his family in diplomatic initiatives. While the Caliphate held sway over the peninsula (until the 1030s), northern Christian kings often sent their daughters and sisters to Córdoba to placate Muslim animosity or to gain Muslim support in their internecine conflicts with other Christian realms. After the collapse of the Caliphate, as Lucy Pick has shown, the Asturian-Leonese monarchy kept royal daughters and sisters close to home in the first half of the twelfth century rather than deploying them in the marriage and diplomatic market. Early twelfth-century rulers chose to have their daughters and sisters become “sacred women,” with all the religious advantages that these claims to sanctity provided for their rule. Nothing could differ more from these policies than Alfonso VIII’s approach to his daughters. His skilled use of marriage for political ends was novel in terms of peninsular marriage practices and foreshadowed new policies of diplomacy and marriage alliances that became common among later Castilian kings. Rather than choose a local noble woman as a consort, as was often the case in an earlier period, Alfonso VIII sought an alliance with England. He married Leonor, the daughter of Henry II of England and of the formidable Eleanor of Aquitaine. In doing so, he gained a good marriage partner but also the support of England in his Rioja claims. That the English crown held control of the region of Aquitaine was another plus. He also sought an alliance with the empire, promising his daughter Berenguela to Conrad, the son of Frederick I, the German emperor. Although the marriage came to naught, it showed Alfonso VIII’s ambitious reach and wish to expand Castilian interests in wider European circles. When the engagement with Conrad fell through, Berenguela was soon afterwards betrothed to Alfonso IX. Although the pope eventually annulled the marriage on grounds of consanguinity and although Alfonso IX proved to be a thorn in the side of the Castilian king, the marriage bore great advantages to Castile, as Ferdinand III (the son of Alfonso IX and Berenguela) inherited León in 1230 upon the death of his father. That year, the two kingdoms were united, not to be separated again. Berenguela had an illustrious career as queen (both of León and of Castile), as she inherited Castile after the death of her brother Henry I. This was followed swiftly by her own resignation on behalf of her son Ferdinand. Yet, another daughter, Blanca (or Blanche in France) was married to the French king, Louis VIII. Regent for her son Louis IX (Saint Louis), Blanche holds a special role in the history of Capetian kingship. Her policies during her son Louis’s minority went a long way towards building France into the hegemonic realm in Western Europe, but her marriage also cemented a long tradition of CastilianFrench alliances. A third daughter, Urraca, became queen of Portugal, while Leonor (d. 1244), named after her mother and grandmother, married James I, the iconic king of the Crown of Aragon. In many respects, Alfonso VIII worked to perfection marriage alliances to foster peaceful relations between the Iberian

6 Teofilo F. Ruiz kingdoms and to do the same with his two closest neighbors, France and England. We will have to wait until the rule of the Catholic Monarchs at the end of the fifteenth century for similarly ambitious diplomatic initiatives, founded, as Alfonso VIII’s were, on marriage alliances. That Alfonso VIII’s daughters, certainly Berenguela (1179/1180–1246) and Blanche (1188–1252), lived long lives and, far more importantly, were exceedingly capable and forceful political figures only enhanced the long reach of Alfonso VIII’s legacy. In Castile, that legacy would be carried even further by the military successes and political reforms of his grandson, Ferdinand III. One could not be married to the daughter of Eleanor of Aquitaine and Henry II of England without some understanding of the importance of memorializing one’s royal line or the significance of sponsoring religious establishments and new architectural initiatives. Of these initiatives the foundation of Santa María la Real de las Huelgas in Burgos, sponsored by Alfonso VIII at the request of his wife in 1187, was indeed the king’s most significant attempt to create a royal pantheon and site of memory for the Castilian monarch. A Cistercian monastery by 1199, Las Huelgas had come into being in imitation of the royal abbey of Our Lady of Fontevraud (near Chinon) where Eleanor of Aquitaine, Henry II, and their son Richard the Lion-Heart were buried in a clear attempt to create a Plantagenet site of memory. In that sense, as Fontevraud sought to shift the association of the English Monarchy with Canterbury or York to a site in Angevin France, Las Huelgas also aimed at creating a royal pantheon (Alfonso VIII, his wife, royal children, and other members of the royal house were buried there) in opposition to the long-held prestige of the basilica of St. Isidore in León. In addition, Alfonso VIII founded a hospital, adjacent to Las Huelgas. The Hospital del Rey also associated Las Huelgas with the pilgrimage to Saint James of Compostela, making Burgos, now the putative capital of Alfonso VIII’s realm, one of the most significant stops along the pilgrimage road. It is also important to emphasize that Las Huelgas and the Hospital of the King were built in the French Gothic style. As such, they introduced into Castile a successful architectural style clearly associated with the Castilian royal house. Las Huelgas remains one of the most representative (and beautiful) early Gothic buildings in all of Castile. In 1212, fresh from his victory at Las Navas, Alfonso VIII founded a studium generale at Palencia. The first university founded in the Iberian Peninsula, the university at Palencia had a short life, but its foundation is a reminder of Alfonso VIII’s interest in the cultural revival and the formalization of education sweeping Western Europe. The king paid for the import of scholars from other parts of Europe to serve as the first instructors. Distinguished and influential clergymen traced their intellectual heritage to Palencia. At the same time, the king, probably under the influence of his wife, welcomed troubadours and lyrical poets from other lands. The late twelfth century also marked the high point of the collaboration between Muslim, Jewish, and Christian scholars in the

Introduction 7 translation and transmission of Greek classical texts (and of their Muslim and Jewish commentators). These cultural exchanges had a seminal impact on the development of culture throughout Western Europe. Having provided this brief overview of Alfonso VIII’s role in the development of Castilian and European society, I wish to say that I am deeply honored and flattered to have been asked to write this short introduction for a collection of such insightful and important contributions to a new understanding of Alfonso VIII’s reign. The present collection’s ambitious reach and broad appeal presents novel and complex interpretations of Alfonso’s reign. A reading of these articles reveals several important themes. First, the thorough and well-researched articles by Joseph O’Callaghan and James Todesca address important topics in the administrative and economic history of late twelfth and early thirteenth-century Castile. Miriam Shadis and Janna Bianchini’s incisive treatments of family, property, and gender provide a sophisticated, original, and much-needed reexamination of Alfonso VIII’s time. The role of the military orders and of religious warfare (or crusades) is examined in several carefully done and excellent articles. The contributions of Sam Conedera, Carlos de Ayala Martínez, and Miguel Gómez, demonstrate the importance of both the Reconquest and the formation of the military orders in the overall history of the realm and, specifically, the role of the military orders in the great victory at Las Navas de Tolosa. Closely related to the question of crusade and the antagonism with Islam are the contributions to the history of Alfonso’s relations with the outside world. Damian Smith’s insightful article on Alfonso VIII’s relations with the papacy connects with the king’s crusading efforts. Similarly, Martín Alvira Cabrer’s contribution to our knowledge of the diplomatic exchanges between Alfonso VIII and Peter II, king of the Crown of Aragon, opens new vistas on the diplomatic efforts that led to an international alliance in the early thirteenth century. In addition, Kyle Lincoln and Thomas Burman’s articles show rich aspects of the episcopate during Alfonso VIII’s reign and of the always complex web of relationships between Islam and Christianity in late twelfth and early thirteenth-century Castile. Taken together these studies show us convincingly that Alfonso VIII was one of the most accomplished and successful rulers in the long and, oftentimes, troubled history of Castilian kings, providing vivid testimony that the late twelfth and early thirteenth centuries (coinciding with Alfonso VIII’s rule) represented a pivotal period in the history of the realm. Notes 1. Simon Doubleday, The Lara Family: Crown and Nobility in Medieval Spain, (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2009); Simon Barton, The Aristocracy in Twelfth Century León and Castile (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997). 2. Peter Linehan, Spain 1157–1300: A Partible Inheritance (Oxford: Blackwell, 2008), 24–35.

8 Teofilo F. Ruiz 3. Amira K. Bennison, The Almoravid and Almohad Empires (New York: Edinburgh University Press, 2016); Allen Fromherz, The Almohads: The Rise of an Islamic Empire (New York: I.B. Tauris, 2013). 4. Julio González, El reino de Castilla en la época de Alfonso VIII, 3 vols. (Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1960) (hereafter González, Alfonso VIII). 5. Gaspar Ibáñez de Segovia Peralta y Mendoza, Marqués de Mondéjar, Memorias historicas de la vida y acciones del rey D. Alonso el Noble, octavo del nombre (Madrid: Imprenta de Antonio de Sancha, 1783). 6. See most recently, Carlos Estepa Díez, Ignacio Álvarez Borge, and José Maria Santamaria Luengos, eds., Poder real y sociedad: Estudios sobre el reinado de Alfonso VIII (1158–1214) (León: Universidad de León, 2011); Esther López Ojeda, ed., 1212, un año, un reinado, un tiempo de despegue, XXIII Semana de Estudios Medievales; Nájera, del 30 de julio al 3 de agosto de 2012 (Logroño: Instituto de Estudios Riojanos, 2013). 7. See Marie-Claude Gerbert, Les noblesses espagnoles au Moyen Age: XIe–XVe siècles (Paris: Colin, 1994), 14–115; Isabel Beceiro Pirta and Ricardo Córodoba de la Llave, eds., Parentesco, poder y mentalidad: La nobleza castellana, siglos XII–XV (Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1990); Barton, Aristocracy in Twelfth Century León and Castile; Teofilo F. Ruiz, From Heaven to Earth: The Reordering of Castilian Society, 1150–1350 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2004), 87–109. 8. See Gonzalo Martínez Díez, “Curia y cortes en el reino de Castilla” in Las cortes de Castilla y León en la edad media, 2 vols. (Valladolid: Cortes de Castilla y León, 1988), vol. 1, 105–45. On the Fuero de Cuenca and its impact see, Rafael de Urueña y Smenjaud, ed., Las ediciones del fuero de Cuenca (Madrid: Imp. de Fortanet, 1917). There is an English translation with a very useful introduction by James F. Powers, The Code of Cuenca: Municipal Law on the Twelfth Century Castilian Frontier (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2000). 9. Ignacio Alvarez Borge, Cambios y alianzas: la política regia en la frontera del Ebro en el reinado de Alfonso VIII de Castilla, 1158–1214 (Madrid: CSIC, 2008); Ricardo Andrés Izquierdo Benito, Francisco Ruí Gomez, eds., Alarcos, 1195: Actas del Congreso Internacional Commemorativo del VIII Centenario de la Batalla de Alarcos (Cuenca: Universidad de Castilla-La Mancha, 1996). 10. Francisco García Fitz, Castilla y León frente al Islam: estrategias de expansión y tácticas militares (siglos XI-XIII) (Sevilla: Universidad de León, 2005); idem, Las Navas de Tolosa, (Madrid: Marcial Pons, 2012); Martín Alvira Cabrer, Las Navas de Tolosa 1212: idea, liturgía y memoria de la batalla (Madrid: Silex, 2013). 11. Joseph O’Callaghan, Reconquest and Crusade in Medieval Spain (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004). 12. Ruiz, From Heaven to Earth, 133–50; Sam Zeno Conedera, Ecclesiastical Knighthood: The Military Orders in Castile, 1150–1300 (New York: Fordham University Press, 2016); Carlos de Ayala Martínez, Órdenes militares, monarquía y espiritualidad militar en los reinos de Castilla y León (ss XII-XIII) (Granada: Universidad de Granada, 2015). 13. Lucy K. Pick, Her Father´s Daughter: Gender, Power, and Religion in the Early Spanish Kingdoms (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2017); Simon Barton, Conquerors, Brides and Concubines: Interfaith Relations and Social Power (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2016).

Introduction 9 14. Janna Bianchini, The Queen’s Hand: Power and Authority in the Reign of Berenguela of Castile (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2012); Miriam Shadis, Berenguela of Castile (1180-1246) and Political Women in the High Middle Ages (New York: Palgrave MacMillan, 2009). 15. Lindy Grant, Blanche of Castile, Queen of France (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2017). 16. It is important to note the establishment of similar monasteries called Las Huelgas throughout Castile by succeeding rulers, above all in Valladolid. On Las Huelgas of Burgos see: Antonio Rodríguez López, ed., El real monasterio de las Huelgas y el Hospital del Rey, 2 vols. (Burgos: Imprenta y Librería del Centro Católico, 1907); José Manuel Lizoain Garrido, ed., Documentación del monasterio de las Huelgas de Burgos, 6 vols, in Fuentes medievales castellano-leonesas, eds. J. García, F. Javier de la Peña, et al. (Burgos: Editorial garrido, 1983–). On the history and art historical significance of Las Huelgas de Burgos: María Pilar Alonso Abad, El Real Monasterio de las Huelgas de Burgos: historia y arte, (Burgos: Cajacirculo, 2005). 17. See Adeline Rucquoi, “Education et societé dans la péninsule ibérique medieval,” Histoire de l’education 69 (1996): 3–36; eadem, “Las utas del saber: España en el siglo XII,” Cuadernos de historia de España 75 (1998–99): 41–58. See also, Margarita Torremocha Hernández, El estudio general de Palencia: Historia de los ocho siglos de la Universidad española (Valladolid: Universidad de Valladolid, 2012).

Chapter one Ideas of Kingship in the Preambles of Alfonso VIII’s Charters Joseph F. O’Callaghan

R

oyal charters have certain stereotypical forms: invocation, preamble, intitulation, salutation, disposition, subscription, sanction, date, witnesses, and so forth. Oftentimes the reader quickly passes over some of that introductory apparatus in order to get to the substance of the charter. Nevertheless, those elements, especially the preambles, however brief they may be, often express ideas of kingship. Rather than comment on all of the more than nine hundred surviving charters of Alfonso VIII of Castile (1158– 1214), my purpose is to direct attention to those preambles and other ancillary components that reveal certain essential monarchical concepts.

The Chancery In his study of Alfonso VII (1126–1157), Alfonso VIII’s grandfather, Bernard Reilly, commented that the chancery was “the one undoubted institution of government. If not strictly a department of government in the modern sense, the chancery of León-Castilla can lay fair claim to being the oldest institution of royal, central government, after the office of king itself.” The chancery was responsible for writing, sealing, and registering all royal charters. Under the direction of the chancellor, notaries wrote the charters or directed scribes to do so. A number of the royal notaries had the title of magister which indicated that they were university graduates and probably had studied civil and canon law and theology. Some of them may have been among the sapientes that Alfonso VIII summoned from France and Italy to staff his newly founded University of Palencia. While they may have presented the concepts expressed in the preambles—in some instances following the chancery practice of previous reigns, especially that of Alfonso VII—we can be sure that the king, the juridical person in whose name the charters were published, adopted those ideas as his own. Pilar Ostos Salcedo divided the history of Alfonso VIII’s chancery into four periods corresponding to the terms of the chancellors who presided over the office. After an uncertain start, Raimundo (1161–1178) emerged as the first chancellor. During those early years, Master Hugo (1165), Martín Fernández (1168–1169), and Guillermo de Astafort, archdeacon of Toledo (1178), also briefly appeared as chancellors. In the second period (1178–1182), Pere de Cardona, a 11

12 Joseph F. O’Callaghan Catalan jurist, was essentially an absentee, who spent much of his time in the service of Pope Alexander III. Elected archbishop of Toledo in 1180 and named a cardinal by Lucius III, Pere died before he was consecrated. His successor as chancellor was Gutierre Rodríguez Girón (1182–1192). He was followed by Diego García de Campos (1192–1214), who had studied in Paris and authored Planeta, a work of moral and theological reflection. Although the king entrusted the office of chancellor in 1206 to Rodrigo Ximénez de Rada, archbishop of Toledo, Diego de Campos and his successors continued to do the day-to-day work of administering the chancery. The task of drawing up a royal charter was usually executed by notaries acting on the chancellor’s command. The principal notaries were: Pedro de Santa Cruz (1167–1178); Master Juan (1176–1181); Master Geraldo, canon of Cuenca and archdeacon of Palencia (1178–1184); Master Mica (1183–1197); Domingo, abbot of Valladolid (1197–1210); Pedro (1198–1204); and Pedro Ponce (1210– 1215). Two of them stand out above the rest, namely Master Geraldo and Master Mica. The former apparently was a Lombard, who, according to Ostos Salcedo, had a major role in organizing the chancery and giving regular form to chancery documents. At the close of his career, he may have directed the cathedral school of Palencia as magister scolarum. His term of service overlapped briefly with that of the “famoso Maestre Mica,” as Ostos Salcedo called him. In addition to his beautiful calligraphy, Mica brought greater simplicity to chancery formulas and greatly reduced the number of preambles. Royal documents may be classified as privileges or charters, depending on the solemnity of the subject matter. Some privileges were marked with a cross in a circle (privilegios signados) while others had a wheel (rueda) with the king’s name encircling a cross (privilegios rodados). The names of prelates and nobles confirming the document were listed, but they were not necessarily present when it was drawn up. Some charters (cartas) granted property or other rights and usually were followed by the list of confirmants. Other shorter charters were mandates ordering that some action be taken. The number of documents with a preamble (arenga) was comparatively small. The preamble alerted the reader to the purpose of the charter but also was intended as a captatio benevolentiae, that is, an attempt to catch the reader’s attention in a positive way. Pablo Martín Prieto grouped the themes of the preambles under these headings: (1) the king, protector of the Church; (2) rewards for services rendered; (3) almsgiving or charity; (4) the written document as a safeguard against the loss of memory; and (5) confirmation of privileges. The importance of the chancery in maintaining a public record of royal acts that would serve as the foundation of institutional memory was also recognized. In addition to issuing his own charters, the king confirmed those of his predecessors, lest their memory be forgotten. Ecclesiastical institutions were especially attentive in having the king confirm charters and privileges issued by his predecessors. Charters granted landed estates, rights of pasturage, fisheries,

Kingship in the Preambles of Alfonso viii’s charters 13 tax exemptions, new fueros, and other privileges, and determined municipal boundaries. When an original document was drawn up, a copy was written in the royal register. The registers, unfortunately, were lost many, many years ago. As a consequence, one is now dependent on the originals or copies preserved in diocesan, monastic, noble, and municipal archives. The reason for making a written record was expressed simply in a charter given to the monastery of El Moral in 1175: “those things done by kings should be confirmed in writing lest they be forgotten with the passage of time.” That language was used with many variants over subsequent years. However, in 1193 when Diego de Campos was chancellor, a more verbose explanation was introduced: We arm ourselves against the many snares of age with the bulwark of the written text (chirograph). Indeed antiquity, the mother of forgetfulness, becomes a stepmother due to the elusiveness of memory, and those things that were established today may perhaps vanish tomorrow, unless they are solidified with the benefit of a charter. Why the need for a written record? At times bishops, monks, nobles, townsmen, and others asserted claims to property or rights counter to the claims of others. Both sides might call upon the king to resolve their dispute. The presentation of an original document given by the king or an earlier concession confirmed by him was the best means of justifying one’s claim. An original charter or a copy could be authenticated by comparing it with the text in the chancery register. In effect, the written record, in the form of an original charter bearing the royal seal and the notation in the royal register, was the best safeguard against fraudulent or erroneous claims and facilitated the work of the king and his court in rendering judgment. In 1196, for example, when a dispute between the monasteries of Ibeas and San Juan de Burgos against the town of Santa Cruz de Juarros was argued in the royal court, the bishop of Osma publicly read certain privileges in curia coram rege and, on that basis, the king and his judges pronounced judgment.

Rex Dei Gratia The royal intitulation following the preamble identified the king, justified his right to rule, and mentioned his kingdoms. The usual intitulation was this: “Aldefonsus Dei gratia rex Castelle et Toleti.” The royal claim to rule by the grace of God implied that the king owed his position, not to any human element or factor, but rather to God alone. That idea derived from St. Paul’s remark in 1 Corinthians (15:10), “by the grace of God I am what I am” and the statement in the Epistle to the Romans (13:1): “Let every person be subordinate to the higher authorities for there is no authority except from God, and those that exist have been established by God.” The king recalled the principle that “all power is held to be from God” when he gave an estate to the monastery of Sacramenia in

14 Joseph F. O’Callaghan 1174. In the following year he affirmed that “the hearts of kings are known to be in the hand” of God and he added that, without engaging in the works of mercy, he would not have an earthly kingdom or gain a heavenly one. That statement is taken from Proverbs (21:1): “Like a stream is the king’s heart in the hand of the Lord; wherever it pleases him, he directs it.” In theory then, he was responsible only to God, though no contemporary stated that explicitly. In most of his charters Alfonso VIII proclaimed himself rex Castelle et Toleti—king of Castile and Toledo—the two kingdoms he inherited from his father, Sancho III (1157–1158). In the early years of his reign, however, the chancery employed a diversity of formulas: king of Toledo and Castile; king of Castile, Extremadura, and Toledo; king of Castile; and in some instances no kingdom was mentioned. From the late 1170s onward he was ordinarily described as king of Castile and Toledo. Of particular interest are those charters of the 1160s and 1170s that identified him as rex Hispanie, rex Hispaniarum, or rex Hispanorum. The title rex Hispaniarum or king of the Spains ultimately derived from the Roman division of the Iberian Peninsula into two provinces, namely Hispania Citerior and Hispania Ulterior. Usage of that title was an assertion of authority over all the peninsular realms, Christian and Muslim. The immediate antecedent of that was the coronation in 1135 of Alfonso VII as imperator Hispanie—emperor of Spain. When he divided his realms between his sons Sancho III of Castile and Ferdinand II of León (1157–1188), he failed to establish which of them would inherit his imperial status. After his brother’s death, Ferdinand II had no hesitancy in calling himself rex Hispanie or rex Hispaniarum, probably in imitation of the German king who was entitled rex Romanorum before his coronation as Holy Roman Emperor. In 1158, the expectation that Ferdinand II would assume the crown of the Hispanic empire was expressed by a notary in Lugo who referred to him as nondum imperator. Alfonso VIII’s sporadic usage of the same titles clearly was intended to challenge his uncle’s claims to peninsular ascendancy. Although he abandoned that usage after 1175, he was able to assert his superiority over his nephew, Alfonso IX of León (1188–1230), who accepted knighthood from him and kissed his hand in vassalage in 1189. For two years thereafter the dating clause of Castilian royal charters commemorated that event. The imperial aspirations suggested by the titles imperator Hispanie or rex Hispanie were not forgotten by Alfonso VIII’s grandson Ferdinand III (1217–1252) and his great-grandson, Alfonso X (1252–1284). The former “wished to be crowned as emperor” but decided that “it was not the time to do so.” When Alfonso X was elected as Holy Roman Emperor, James I of Aragon (1213–1276) rejected the possibility that he “should be an Hispanic emperor and that we and our kingdoms and lands should be in any subjection to him by reason of empire.” Attention should be called to the concept of utilitas regni—the utility of the kingdom—although it does not occur in the preambles. It appears briefly in one charter of Alfonso VIII and two of his son Henry I (1214–1217). In 1181, for

Kingship in the Preambles of Alfonso viii’s charters 15 example, Alfonso VIII, propter utilitatem regnorum (Castile and Toledo), exchanged property with the monastery of San Zoilo de Carrión. In 1215 Henry I established an annual fair at Brihuega on the request of Archbishop Rodrigo of Toledo and considerata etiam utilitate regni mei—“also in consideration of the utility of my kingdom.” Two years later he granted the castle of Alfambra to Álvaro Núñez de Lara who had populated its environs ad defensionem et utilitatem regni mei—“for the defense and utility of my kingdom.” The term, ultimately derived from the Roman law concept of utilitas publica, referred to the general well-being of the realm or the common good and was used in these three instances to justify an exchange of property, the granting of a fair, and the settlement of a community. In time, as Gaines Post pointed out, it contributed to the development of the concept of reason of state.

Law and Justice Perhaps the most important obligation of the king was to dispense justice to his people and to assure everyone’s rights. That was one of the principal functions of the royal court and of the territorial officials appointed by the king. Those ideas were clearly stated in the preamble to the king’s charter of 1181 establishing the boundaries of the municipal district of Ávila. Pere de Cardona was the chancellor and Master Geraldo was the notary who wrote the document. This is what he said: The office of the royal majesty is to conserve the people subject to him in justice; to render to each one his rights by confirming ancient donations of emperors and kings, and resolving, by a true inquisition, litigation arising from donations made in the past. The author of those words displayed a familiarity with Roman law and may have studied it at the University of Bologna or perhaps at Palencia. The passage quoted embodies several noteworthy ideas: the kingly office; the royal majesty; the definition of justice; and the procedure of the inquisition. Let me comment on each one. The phrase “office of the royal majesty”—oficium . . . regie magestatis—refers to the particular status or dignitas occupied by the king. By implication, there is a distinction between the king and the office. In the preceding reigns of Alfonso VII and Sancho III we find references to the royal majesty (Decet regiam maiestatem) and the royal dignity (regia dignitas). Many of Alfonso VIII’s charters also began with the words Decet regiam maiestatem, that is, “it is worthy of the royal majesty” to take certain actions. In the ancient Roman republic majesty (maiestas) referred to the supreme status, authority, and dignity of the Roman people. Certain crimes were viewed as offenses against that majesty and gave rise to the term crimen laesae maiestatis and its vernacular forms (lese majesty, lèse majesté, lesa majestad). As the republic was transformed into an

16 Joseph F. O’Callaghan empire, the term maiestas was applied to the emperor as embodying the state. By virtue of another transference, the word was now used with reference to the king as the one exercising supreme power in the kingdom of Castile. The linking of kings and princes (regum et principum) in numerous royal charters was also related to that transference, as the term princeps or prince in Roman law referred to the emperor. By connecting kings and princes, the royal chancery emphasized that the king, within his own realm, had all the authority attributed in Roman law to the prince or emperor. In time that idea was expressed in the sentence rex in regno suo imperator est—“the king is emperor in his own kingdom.” Walter Ullman remarked that “majestas and ‘sovereignty’ were two interchangeable concepts.” Whereas the king’s charters most often referred to the royal majesty, in 1203 “the office of the royal dignity”—regis dignitatis . . . officium—was praised for sustaining the monks of San Zoilo de Carrión. Earlier in the year, kings and princes were said to enjoy, “through divine grace, an office greater in power (potestas) and dignity.” Potestas meant all the power, rights, and obligations associated with the royal dignity. In 1191 when Alfonso VIII acknowledged that the gifts of the faithful to the church ought to be confirmed by royal authority (regia auctoritate) and strengthened by authentic privileges, he used the term, auctoritas, with a comparable meaning. Majesty (maiestas), power ( potestas), dignity (dignitas), and authority (auctoritas) were all attributes of the royal office. The statement that the king had “to render to each one his rights” repeated in part the definition of justice given by the Roman jurist Ulpian (d. 228): Iustitia est constans et perpetua voluntas ius suum cuique tribuendi—“Justice is the constant and perpetual will to render to each one his right” (Digest, 1.1.10.pr.). In similar language, when the king restored certain villages to the archdiocese of Toledo in 1214, he acknowledged that “justice proceeds from the highest Justice” and that all those given the authority to judge must do what is right “for justice is to render to each one his rights (iusticia autem est reddere unicuique quod suum est).” A most egregious violation of that principle occurred in 1277 when Alfonso X (1252–1284) executed his brother Fadrique and Simón de los Cameros. The hermandades in 1282 and Pedro López de Ayala in the late fourteenth century condemned the king’s action as contrary to justice and law because they were executed without a trial and without being given a hearing. The king’s obligation to assure the rights of everyone, enunciated in 1181, and ignored in 1277, became a commonplace of Castilian law for centuries thereafter. The inquisition or inquest (inquisitio, Sp. pesquisa), cited by Master Geraldo, was an administrative or judicial procedure whereby good men of a certain locality were summoned before public officials to respond under oath to certain questions. In this instance their testimony concerned the boundaries of Ávila and its neighbors. The king indicated that he acted because “I

Kingship in the Preambles of Alfonso viii’s charters 17 found that for a long time you sustained many labors in my wars and also because of the immense fidelity that I constantly found in you.” As a reminder of those wars, the document was dated in the fifth year since the king “liberated Cuenca for Christianity.” The early thirteenth-century Chronicle of Ávila celebrated the military accomplishments of the people of the city and also recalled Alfonso VIII’s confirmation of its privileges and determination of its boundaries. The inquest was open to abuse as Alfonso X admitted in the Cortes of Seville in 1281, when he promised to put an end to enquisas de mascaraed— “inquests of deceit.” In addition to his responsibility to administer justice, the king was expected to uphold the law and to make new law if necessary. In 1208, for example, when, in gratitude for services rendered “in the land of the Christians and of the Saracens,” he confirmed the boundaries of the municipal district of Segovia, he declared that kings ought to preserve unharmed the gifts and laws of their predecessors. Referring to the laws, in one of the two charters to Segovia he used the word iura and in another decreta. The king was also a lawgiver who granted fueros to many towns so that the people might live in justice and enjoy their fundamental rights. In the preamble to the fueros he stressed the need to replace evil customs (prauas consuetudines) with better ones. For example, in 1162 he revoked the custom that prohibited the people of Burgos from harvesting grapes before Michaelmas and allowed them to do so when they thought it necessary. He granted that good custom (bonam consuetudinem) to both Christians and Jews on account of their past and future service to him. In 1181, when granting a new fuero to Burgos concerning the penalty for homicide, he proclaimed that it was a duty of the Christian religion, but especially of kings, to uproot evil fueros and to establish good ones so that the people, released from the yoke of servitude and set at liberty, might rejoice. In return for such a work of mercy, kings could expect their eternal reward from God. Now, Alfonso VIII granted a “good and right fuero” (bono et directo foro) to Burgos. Henceforth, if a man committed murder, he alone would suffer the penalty. No other person (presumably family members) or the municipal council could be required to pay the murder fine (homicidium). The evil fuero formerly in use was annulled. In the previous year he stated that the royal majesty ought to show mercy to humble persons worn out by miserable oppression, by relieving them of wicked customs and giving them good ones. With that in mind he granted fueros to Villasila and Villamelendro. In 1191 he announced his intention to liberate the people of Arganzón from the power of the unruly, to deliver them from bad customs and subjection, and give them good fueros and customs so that they might settle the village and remain there. In an undated charter giving the fuero of Logroño to Medina de Pomar, he stressed the value of enabling the people to be governed by law and freed from any oppression by the laws.

18 Joseph F. O’Callaghan

Fostering True Religion Fostering true religion and the worship of the one true God was regarded as a fundamental, if not the most significant, royal responsibility. By devoting himself to that task, the king assured his people of divine favor and a peaceful and prosperous life. In addition, he expected by his good works of charity to win remission of his own sins. The abundance of extant royal charters issued to bishops, monasteries, military orders, and other ecclesiastical establishments is evidence of that fact. As corporate entities they took care to preserve original documents or copy them into cartularies. Such documents form the bulk of the surviving output of his chancery. The preambles often declared that it was important for the king to support the spiritual activities of the church and of churchmen. In 1174, for example, he affirmed that it was his singular power (singularis potestas) to uphold the liberty of the church so that its ministers could more freely carry out their ministry and especially intercede with the Redeemer for the king and the people committed to him. To make that possible, he exempted the clergy and people of the lordship of the archdiocese of Toledo from several royal tributes and military service except when he personally led his army to war. In the preamble to a charter of 1180 granting an estate to the Cistercian monastery of Monsalud, Master Gerald summed up the royal duty in most elaborate language: It is especially worthy of royal majesty to exalt and protect the churches of God with royal gifts; to love and venerate ecclesiastical persons, especially religious men, houses, and monasteries. Putting aside worldly pomp, and bound to cloisters with hymns, psalms, canticles, and prayers, they do not cease to offer prayers to the Lord by day and night, pleading for the salvation of kings and people. Stated in simpler terms, the king ought especially “to love and venerate churches and to raise them up with royal gifts.” That being so, Alfonso VIII granted the monastery of San Martín de Mazcuerras to the see of Burgos in 1184. In the same year, conceding the right to hold a fair at Alcalá de Henares, he stated that it was “appropriate for royal majesty to promote the holy growth of churches so that by doing so the king would commend himself to God and obtain remission of sins.” In 1191, as a function of royal majesty, he extended his protection to all the monasteries and churches in his realm and in the neighboring kingdoms of Aragon, Navarre, León, and Portugal. Justifying a grant to the monastery of Las Huelgas in 1192, the king explained that by providing the nuns with sufficient temporal support, “religion would not be contaminated by the pursuit of worldly gain.” In a charter to the monastery of Sepúlveda he declared that religious men, “especially those dwelling among the impious,” should be defended against the “enormity of the wicked.” Many other charters issued to churches or monasteries conveyed property, made

Kingship in the Preambles of Alfonso viii’s charters 19 charitable donations, granted protection, or confirmed rights and privileges. All of those actions emanated from the conviction that the king, in the name of the Christian community, should sustain and favor the church that worshiped the Divine Being, whom Christians believed to be the one, true God. In return for that faithful service, God would protect the king and his people and shower his grace upon them.

Defense of the Fatherland and the Christian Religion While the king was expected to maintain the Church at home, he also had to defend the Christian religion against the external onslaughts of the Muslims. That was an essential part of his broader responsibility of defending the fatherland (patria) against all enemies, whether Christian or Muslim. During Alfonso VIII’s reign the threat of the Almohads loomed large and resulted in two major encounters on the battlefield, the disaster at Alarcos in 1195 and the triumph at Las Navas de Tolosa in 1212. Assisting him in meeting that challenge were the military orders that came into being during his reign. By ceding extensive dominions south of the Tagus River to the Orders of Calatrava and Santiago, he hoped to create a defensive bulwark against Almohad invasion. For example, in 1178 when he granted the Order of Calatrava a tenth of whatever he might acquire in the land of the Moors, he declared that it was appropriate for the “royal majesty to love, honor, and defend against the incursions of impious men those religious and honest men who abandoned the pomp of secular affairs of this world, and exposed themselves to the enemies of the cross of Christ, even to the point of devoutly shedding their own blood.” Ceding the castle of Malagón to the Order of Calatrava two years later, he remarked that among the works of piety especially suitable for kings was to venerate and love and increase the possessions of pious places, in particular those in which “the knights of Christ (Christi milites) labored for the glory of their souls and battled in defense of the Christian people.” Two years before the catastrophe at Alarcos he commended the knights of Calatrava, who, in defense of the name of Christ, opposed the incursions of the Saracen hosts. As a consequence of Alarcos, the knights suffered the loss of Calatrava itself but within a few years were able to reestablish their headquarters at the more advanced position of Salvatierra. Until the recovery of Calatrava after the battle of Las Navas de Tolosa, the knights were known as the Order of Salvatierra. Under that title they received grants in 1207 and 1210 from Alfonso VIII, who repeated the preamble of his charter of 1193. In similar language he lauded the Order of Santiago whose knights gave up worldly pomp in order to dedicate themselves to “the defense of the Christian religion against the incursions of the Saracens for the salvation of their souls and the defense of Christianity.” In order to encourage the knights, he granted them the castle of Piedranegra. The Order of Santiago also maintained a hospital for

20 Joseph F. O’Callaghan the redemption of Christians taken captive by the Moors. Acknowledging that it was a most pious work that could save one’s soul, the king gave the knights half of the toll (portazgo) collected at the Puerta de Bisagra in Toledo amounting to three hundred gold pieces (aurei) annually. The money could not be diverted to any other purpose. A charter drawn up in 1185 by Master Mica during a royal visit to Uclés, the headquarters of the Order of Santiago, is remarkable for the lengthy preamble extolling the virtues of the knights. Once again Alfonso VIII emphasized that kings ought to love and reward with worthy stipends those who serve them, especially those who form an impregnable wall in defense of the Christian religion against “the enemies of the cross of Christ” and assail “the Saracen perfidy.” Battling tirelessly for their Savior they do not hesitate to shed their blood “under the law of martyrdom”—sub lege martirii—so that they might rejoice at last in life with the one and only God. This is the first royal charter that I know of that acknowledged that those who died in battle against the Moors would be counted among the martyrs and enjoy eternal life. A month later the king acclaimed the knights of Santiago who, in battle and in prayer, “fought constantly for the fatherland”—pro patria pugnantes—even shedding their blood in defending the places and dwellings of Christendom. On that account he granted them the castle of Espechel on the Tagus. The phrase, pro patria pugnantes, is a reminder that the defense of the fatherland was a principle of Roman law. Moreover, Alfonso VIII’s chancery officials apparently were familiar with the remarks of both legists and canonists who justified warfare in defense of the fatherland and accepted the likelihood that some might die by participating in it. Fighting for the fatherland—pugnantes pro patria—inevitably would result in bloodshed—effusione sanguinis. Willingness to die for the patria came to be seen as the highest form of patriotism or love of country. The concept of patria led in time to the development of the idea of the state. A few months before the battle of Alarcos, the king gave several castles to the Order of Trujillo, commenting that it was appropriate to reward those who challenged the “perfidy of the infidels” and served “as a wall in defense of the Christian faith against the fury of the pagans.” The Order of Trujillo was an ephemeral institution whose existence was recorded in three royal charters (1188, 1194, and 1195) and a statute of the Cistercian General Chapter of 1190. Trujillo was probably a Castilian branch of the Leonese Order of San Julián del Pereiro, the ancestor of the Order of Alcántara. After Alarcos, the Almohads seized Trujillo and it was not recovered until 1232. Aside from the military orders, Alfonso VIII attempted to strengthen the Tagus frontier by establishing a new town, Plasencia. When he determined the boundaries of the municipal district in 1189, he declared his desire to increase the Christian religion so that the heavenly majesty might be glorified by the

Kingship in the Preambles of Alfonso viii’s charters 21 invocation of the divine name and made manifest to the faithful. For that reason, he declared it was a work of piety leading to the salvation of souls to build cities in places neighboring the lands of the pagans and to plant there the followers of Christ as an obstacle to the wickedness of the infidels and for the glory and praise of the Creator of all. Despite those brave words, the Almohads ravaged the town after their victory at Alarcos, but their occupation was brief. The language of these preambles reflects the belief that the Muslims were intruders who made incursions into lands properly held by Christians. The terminology used to describe those invaders was negative: “impious,” “infidels,” “pagans,” and “enemies of the cross of Christ.” Equally hostile were expressions such as “perfidy of the infidels,” “Saracen perfidy,” “fury of the pagans,” and “wickedness of the infidels.” From the Castilian point of view, the Moors were to be opposed because they rejected Christianity and on that account were dismissed as faithless pagans raging against Christians. Whereas Castilian writers commonly referred to their opponents as Moors (mauri), an allusion to their origin in Mauritania or modern-day Morocco, chancery documents, following papal usage, often called them Saracens. However that may be, the language employed heightened the religious difference between the Christians and their Muslim opponents. In that sense, the war between them was a religious war. To the extent that the papacy favored Christian warriors with the remission of their sins, the war became a crusade. The culmination of the crusade occurred on July 16, 1212, at Las Navas de Tolosa when Alfonso VIII triumphed over the Almohads. The event was commemorated thereafter until the close of the reign in the dating clause of royal charters which emphasized that the king triumphed, “not because of my merits but by the mercy of God and the help of my vassals.” In a lengthy preamble to a charter given in 1213 to Archbishop Rodrigo Ximénez de Rada, the historian of the age, the king described his victory over Miramamolín, the Almohad caliph. No power on earth could be compared to Miramamolín’s power, nor did he fear anyone. In Africa he held a third of the whole world and another third in thirty dioceses in the Spains that had once been subject to Christian worship. Like Lucifer, puffed up with pride, and determined to destroy the Christian religion, he challenged to battle all those who adored the cross of Christ. However, through the victory of the holy cross two hundred thousand (an obvious exaggeration) of his men were killed and he fled from the battlefield. Acknowledging that he owed his triumph to the mercy of God and the help of his vassals, Alfonso VIII granted Alcaraz, recently taken from the Saracens, to the see of Toledo. Just as Archbishop Rodrigo, who stood by the king’s side at Las Navas, received his reward, so too did others whose faithful service made that victory possible. Among them were Alvaro Núñez de Lara, the royal alférez, who “like a uir strenuus” bore the royal standard at Las Navas, and Diego López de Haro, who represented the other great Castilian noble house.

22 Joseph F. O’Callaghan

Conclusion As we have seen, the royal chancery created documents that constituted the public record of Alfonso VIII’s reign and gave expression to contemporary ideas of kingship. The king, ruling by God’s grace, occupied an office distinguished by majesty, power, authority, and dignity. The preambles to his charters, some short formulaic statements, others displaying rhetorical flourishes, emphasized certain aspects of his manifold responsibilities. Notable among them was the administration of justice summarized in the principle “to render to each one his due.” That task was carried out in the royal court, employing a variety of legal procedures, including the inquest, and was facilitated by the abolition of antiquated customs that no longer served the needs of the people and their replacement, on the king’s command, with good customs or laws. As the leader of a society that was professedly Christian, the king was also expected to provide moral and financial support to the Church and its institutions. By doing so, the community was assured of God’s continuing favor and a life of peace and prosperity. That tranquility was threatened, however, by the Almohad menace that loomed ever larger. Thus, it was the king’s task to defend the patria and, by extension, the whole of Christendom (Christianitas), against the possibility of Muslim conquest. Often citing his concern for the remission of his sins, the king was filled with the expectation that if he faithfully executed the diverse labors of kingship he would merit the reward of eternal life. Notes 1. González, Alfonso VIII. The royal charters (and fifty of Sancho III and fifty-two of Henry I) are published in vols. 2–3. Also see Carlos Estepa Díez, Ignacio Álvarez Borge, and José María Santamarta Luengos, Poder real y sociedad: Estudios sobre el reinado de Alfonso VIII (1158–1214) (León: Universidad de León, 2011). 2. Bernard F. Reilly, The Kingdoms of León-Castilla under King Alfonso VII, 1126–1157 (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1998), 146–51; idem, “The Chancery of Alfonso VII of León-Castilla: The Period 1116–1135 Reconsidered,” Speculum 51 (1976): 243–61; idem, “The Chancery of Alfonso VI of León-Castile (1065–1009),” in Santiago, Saint-Denis, and Saint Peter: The Reception of the Roman Liturgy in León-Castile in 1080, ed. Bernard F. Reilly (New York: Fordham University Press, 1985), 1–40. 3. Joseph F. O’Callaghan, “Origin and Development of Archival Record-Keeping in the Crown of Castile-León,” in Discovery in the Archives of Spain and Portugal: Quincentenary Essays, 1492–1992, ed. Lawrence J. McCrank (New York: The Haworth Press, 1993), 3–18. 4. Rodrigo Jiménez de Rada, Historia de rebus Hispanie sive Historia Gothica, ed. Juan Fernández Valverde, Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis 72 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1987) (hereafter DRH), bk. 7, ch. 34, 256; Manuel Alejandro Rodríguez de la Peña, “Rex institutor scholaribus: la dimensión sapiencial de la realeza en la cronística de León-Castilla y los orígenes de la Universidad de Palencia,” Hispania Sacra 62 (2010): 491–512; Adeline Rucquoi, “La royauté sous Alphonse VIII de Castille,” Cahiers de linguistique hispanique médiévale 23 (2000): 215–41, esp. 218–22.

Kingship in the Preambles of Alfonso viii’s charters 23 5. Peter Rassow, “Die Urkunden Kaiser Alfons VII. von Spanien,” Archiv für Urkundenforschung 10 (1928): 327–468; 11 (1930): 66–137. 6. Julio González, Regesta de Fernando II (Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1943), 162–237; idem, Alfonso IX, 2 vols. (Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1944), 1:479–564; idem, Reinado y diplomas de Fernando III, 3 vols. (Córdoba: Monte de Piedad y Caja de Ahorros de Córdoba, 1980), 1:504–55, studied extensively the characteristics of the charters issued by all three kings. He did not do so for Alfonso VIII. 7. Pilar Ostos Salcedo, “La cancillería de Alfonso VIII, rey de Castilla (1158–1214). Una aproximación,” Boletín Millares Carlo 13 (1994): 101–36; Agustín Millares Carlo, “La cancillería real en León y Castilla hasta fines del reinado de Fernando III,” Anuario de Historia del Derecho Español 3 (1926): 227–306. 8. Antonio García y García, Derecho común en España: Los juristas y sus obras (Murcia: Universidad de Murcia 1991), 67–68; Juan Francisco Rivera Recio, La iglesia de Toledo en el siglo XII (1085–1208), 2 vols. (Rome: Instituto español de Historia eclesiástica, 1966–76), 1:200–202. 9. Diego García de Campos, Planeta, ed. Manuel Alonso (Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1943), esp. 41–83. 10. González, Alfonso VIII, 3:383–85, no. 788 (July 1, 1206). 11. González, Alfonso VIII, 3:252–54, no. 709 (September 12, 1201) referred to houses in Toledo that had belonged to Magister Mica, quondam notarii mei. 12. Antonio Sánchez González, “Los ‘Privilegios Rodados’ originales del Archivo Ducal de Medinaceli: I. Alfonso VIII de Castilla (1158–1214),” En La España Medieval 35 (2012): 367–412. 13. Pablo Martín Prieto, “Invención y tradición en la cancillería real de Alfonso VIII de Castilla (1158–1214)” Espacio, Tiempo y Forma Serie III, Historia Medieval 26 (2013): 209–44. Also see María Josefa Sanz Fuentes, “Cancillería y cultura: los preámbulos en la documentación de Alfonso VIII,” in Alfonso VIII y su época. II Curso de Cultura Medieval (Aguilar de Campoó, 1990), ed. Jaime Nuño González (Madrid: Centro de Estudios del Románico, 1992), 387–91; Luisa Laffon Álvarez, “Arenga Hispana: Una aproximación a los preámbulos documentales de la edad media,” Historia Instituciones Documentos 16 (1989): 133–232. 14. “Quoniam ea que a regibus fiunt scripto firmantur, ne temporis diuturnitate obliuioni tradantur.” González, Alfonso VIII, 2:362–64, no. 219 (March 4, 1175). Also 2:386–87, 466–68, 500–2, 774–75, 783–84, 915–16, nos. 231, 283, 305, 451, 458, 534. There are many other examples. 15. “Contra multiplices uetustatis insidias cirographorum munimine nos armamus, obliuionis etenim mater antiquitas lubricitati memorie nouercatur, et que statute sunt hodie fortasis crastina euanescent nisi carte beneficio solidentur.” González, Alfonso VIII, 3:81–83, no. 609 (February 16, 1193). Ibid., 3:87–92, 95–100, nos. 612–13, 616–18. 16. González, Alfonso VIII, 3:157–58, no. 653 (March 31, 1196). See also, 3:79–80, 766–67, nos. 607 (November 2, 1192), 1029 (October 29, 1196). 17. “Cum omnis potestas a Deo habeat esse, ipsum et sponsam eius, ecclesiam, sincero debet corde amare, ministrosque illius ab omni secularium hominum oppressione, si possit defendere, ut Dei seruitio libere ualeant et sine omni impedimento insistere.” González, Alfonso VIII, 2:352–54, no. 213 (November 18, 1174). 18. “Quoniam regie clemencie dignitatis ad hoc debet sollicite semper intendere, ut

24 Joseph F. O’Callaghan omnipotenti Deo, in cuius manu corda regum esse noscuntur, per opera misericordie ualeat sine intermissione placere, et ei studeat pia intentione seruire, sine quo nec regnum potest habere terrenum nec adquirere sempiternum.” González, Alfonso VIII, 2:382–84, no. 229 (July 21, 1175). In 1168 he declared himself “diuino imperio rex in Castella et in Toleto.” Ibid., 2:189–90, no. l10. 19. Carlos Estepa, “Memoria y poder real bajo Alfonso VIII (1158–1214),” in Construcción y conservación de la Memoria regia en Occidente (siglos X–XIV), ed. Pascual Martínez Sopena and Ana Rodríguez (Valencia: Universitat de València, 2011), 189–208, esp. 201–3. 20. Reilly, Alfonso VII, 49–53, 135–37. 21. Enrique Florez et al., eds., España sagrada. Theatro geographico-historico de la iglesia de España (Madrid: Marin, 1747–1879), 41:26 (hereafter ES), cited by Ramón Menéndez Pidal, El imperio hispánico y los cinco reinos (Madrid: Instituto de Estudios Políticos, 1950), 181. 22. González, Alfonso VIII, 1:663–99, and Fernando II, 214. 23. “Eo anno quo serenissimo rex prefatus A. Castelle A., regem Legionensem, cingulo milicie accinxit, et ipse A., rex Legionis, deosculatus fuit manum dicti Aldefonsi, regis Castelle et Toleti.” González, Alfonso VIII, 2:870–73, no. 506 (July 28, 1188). 24. Setenario, ed. Kenneth Vanderford (Barcelona: Editorial Crítica, 1984), 22, ley 10; Alberic of Troisfontaines, Chronica, s.a. 1234 in Monumenta Germaniae Historica Scriptores (in folio), 32 vols. (Hanover, 1826–1934), 23:936; hereafter MGHSS. 25. Antonio Joachim Dias Dinis, ed., Monumenta Henricina, 15 vols. (Coimbra: Subcomissao de “Monumenta Henricina,” 1960–1974), 1:151, no. 69 (hereafter MHE); O’Callaghan, The Learned King: The Reign of Alfonso X of Castile (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1993), 147–50. 26. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:623–24, no. 363 (April 2, 1881), and 3:704–5, 736–38, nos. 987 (September 17, 1215), 1009 (January 8, 1217). 27. Gaines Post, Studies in Medieval Legal Thought: Public Law and the State, 1100–1322 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1964), ch. 5, “Ratio Publicae Utilitatis, Ratio Status, and ‘Reason of State,’1100–1300.” 28. “Oficium est regie magestatis populos sibi submissos in iusticia conservare, ius suum unicuique tribuere, antiquas donaciones imperatorum siue regum confirmando et litigia super donacionibus antiquitus factis hinc inde emergencia ueridica inquisicione dirimendo.” González, Alfonso VIII, 2:628–31, no. 365 (April 21, 1181). 29. “Regie dignitati conuenit aliquem sibi bene et fideliter seruientem donis remunerare.” Rassow, “Urkunden,” 406. 30. “Regiam decet precipue maiestatem.” González, Alfonso VIII, 2:68–69, 70–73, 77–78, nos. 37 (February 1158), 39–40, 43 (March 1158). 31. “Regie dignitati conuenit aliquem sibi bene et fideliter seruientem donis remunerare,” Rassow, “Urkunden,” 406; “Regie dignitati convenit aliquem sibi bene et fideliter servientem remunerare.” González, Alfonso VIII, 2:43–45, no. 46. 32. Kenneth Pennington, The Prince and the Law, 1200–1600: Sovereignty and Rights in the Western Legal Tradition (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993), 2–4, 38–50. 33. Aquilino Iglesia Ferreirós, “Rex superior non recognoscens: Hugulino de Sesso y el studium de Palencia,” Initium 3 (1998): 1–205.

Kingship in the Preambles of Alfonso viii’s charters 25 34. Walter Ullmann, Principles of Government and Politics in the Middle Ages (New York: Barnes and Noble, 1966), 135–37. 35. “Laudabile regis dignitatis est officium loca sancta, ecclesias et monasteria, et ea precipue in quibus ordo et religio regulariter tenentur, uenerari diligere et tueri, et que ad pacem et utilitatem seruorum Dei qui ibi noctu dieque iugiter Domino famulantur in eis statuta fuerint inuiolabiliter obseruare, auctoritate approbare et priuilegiis roborare.” González, Alfonso VIII, 3:321–22, no. 755. 36. “Saluti regum et principum principaliter dinoscitur expedire ut, quanto maiori potestate et dignitate munere gratie diuine sunt ornati, tanto ea que ad opera pietatis et misericordie pertinent studiosus et deuocius exequi, et ecclesias et personas religiosas in quibus maxime Deus honoratur reuerencia debent et honore pariter preuenire.” González, Alfonso VIII, 3:298–300, no. 740. See Ernst Kantorowicz, The King’s Two Bodies: A Study in Mediaeval Political Theology (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1957), 383–450: Dignitas non Moritur. González, Alfonso VIII, 3:379–81, no. 786: “quanto maiori munere et diuina gratia sunt ornate.” 37. “Regali congruit excelencie ac consonat pietati ut ea que religiosis personis per regiam magnificentiam conferuntur, ea quoque que a singulis Dei fidelibus monasteriis, ecclesiis et earum cultoribus caritative erogantur, auctoritate regia et privilegii autentici robore confirmare.” González, Alfonso VIII, 3:21–24, no. 572. Also see 2:757– 58, 763–64, 871–73, 905–7, 909–11, nos. 440 (September 10, 1185), 506 (July 28, 1188), 529 (May 14, 1189), 531 (May 18, 1189), 1026 (May 11, 1190), 3:641–45, no. 950 (n.d.). 38. For the meaning of these terms in Roman law see Adolf Berger, “Encyclopedic Dictionary of Roman Law,” Transactions of the American Philosophical Society, n.s., 43 (1953): 369, 437, 572, 607, 640. 39. “Quoniam uite labilitas, stabilitatis inpaciens, cursus suos desinit perficere, pocius uite finis est. Attendens quam presens instabilitas que non constat, nescitur quippe qua hora ueniet Dominus quia sicut fur dies Domini ita ueniet ex improuiso, cum itaque a summo Iusto procedat omnis iusticia, temporali magna benefaciendi neccesitas incunbit hiis quibus datur auctoritas iudicandi, iusticia autem reddere unicuique quod suum est.” González, Alfonso VIII, 3:617–19, no. 926 (July 21, 1214). 40. Joseph F. O’Callaghan, Learned King, 241–43, 262–63; idem, Alfonso X of Castile and the Cantigas de Santa Maria: A Poetic Biography (Leiden: Brill, 1998), 144–51. 41. For examples see González, Alfonso VIII, 2:873–75, no. 508 (August 26, 1188); 3:123–24, 168–69, 315–17, 337, 388–89, 445–46, 583–85, nos. 632 (December 14, 1194), 660 (February 20, 1197), 751 (August 14, 1203), 766 (November 8, 1204), 791 (November 5, 1206), 823 (August 28, 1208), 905 (June 5, 1213). Evelyn Procter, The Judicial Use of Pesquisa (Inquisition) in León and Castille, 1157–1369. (London: Longmans, Green, 1966); Joaquín Cerdá-Ruiz Funes, “En torno a la pesquisa y procedimiento inquisitivo en el derecho castellano-leonés de la edad meia,” Anuario de Historia del Derecho Español 32 (1962): 483–518. 42. Ámparo Hernández Segura, ed., Crónica de la población de Ávila (Valencia: Anubar, 1966), esp. 30–38. See also Manuel Abeledo, ed., Crónica de la población de Ávila (Buenos Aires: Incipit, 2012). 43. O’Callaghan, Learned King, 44–45, 256–57. 44. “Decet reges predecessorum suorum dona et iura illibata custodire et augere conseruata.” González, Alfonso VIII, 3:453–55, no. 829 (December 12, 1208). “Decet

26 Joseph F. O’Callaghan reges predecessorum suorum decreta et dona illibata conseruare et conseruata augere.” Ibid., 3:455–58, no. 830 (December 12, 1208). 45. “Regie potestatis est prauas consuetudines in irritum ducere et ad meliores populum sibi subditum erigere.” González, Alfonso VIII, 2:101–102, no. 56 (April 1162). Also see 2:645–467, no. 373 (July 31, 1181). 46. “Debitum est christiane religionis et regibus presertim conueniens prauos resecare foros, bonos instituere, ut populi iugo seruitutis exempto de libertate adepta gratulentur et reges de largitione clementis operis eternam a Domino recipiant remunerationem.” González, Alfonso VIII, 2:626–28, no. 364 (April 7, 1181). 47. “Regie conuenit maiestati humilibus personis misericordiam clementer exibere, miserabili oppressione fatigatos ope releuationis uisitare, prauas aufferendo consuetudines et bonos foros inpendendo.” González, Alfonso VIII, 2:555–57, no. 331 (January 12, 1180). 48. “Placuit mihi optimo corde et bona voluntate quod a potestate perturbantium vos liberarem, et a consuetudinibus et subiectionibus pessimis vos extraxi, ut bonos foros et bonas consuetudines sicut scripte sunt habeatis qui in prefato Arganzón populetis et maneatis.” González, Alfonso VIII, 3:32–35, no. 579 (December 1191). This is not the preamble but the first sentence following the invocation and salutation. 49. “Iustum est et racioni consonat ut ea quae intuitu ipsius populandae et aumentandae christianitatis a praedecessoribus misericorditer acta fuerunt, et acta huiusmodi presenti foro iudiciorum quo sub uno iure iubentis populi salubrius gubernantur, et scientes quibus debeant uti legibus nullam habere vereantur oppressionem, de iure scripto confidentes quod eos faciat populiores.” González, Alfonso VIII, 3:646–50, no. 951. 50. “Christiane religionis est debitum et regum singularis potestas, tueri ecclesias in libertate sua, et eorum subiectis inmunitatem prestare, ut ecclesiarum subiecti, ab alieno expediti iugo ministris ecclesiarum necessaria liberius ministrare ualeant, et ministri pro regibus et populo suo commisso nostrum deuotius intercedere Redemptorem.” González, Alfonso VIII, 2:732–33, no. 424 (August 6, 1184). 51. “Inter ceteros regiam precipue decet magestatem ecclesias Dei donis regalibus exaltare et protegere, ecclesiasticas personas diligere et venerari, praesertim tamen religiosos, domos et monasteria, qui pompa mundi propter Deum postposita claustris mancipati hymnis, psalmis, canticis et orationibus die noctuque insistentes ad dominum pro salute regum et populi non cessant preces effundere.” González, Alfonso VIII, 2:562–64, no. 335 (March 25, 1180). 52. “Inter cetera pietatis opera potissimum est et regibus specialiter conueniens ecclesias diligere et uenerari et easdem regalibus donis sublimare.” González, Alfonso VIII, 2:719–22, nos. 416–17 (January 13–14 , 1184). 53. “Regiam decet magestatem sancte incremente ecclesie attencius promulgare cum per eam se sciat a Domino assidue commendari et peccatorum remissionem obtinere.” González, Alfonso VIII, 2:729–30, no. 422 (March 1184). 54. “Quoniam regiam condecorat maiestatem res monasteriorum et ecclesiarum fouere iugiter et augere et eis iuge patrocinium exhibere.” González, Alfonso VIII, 3:18–19, no. 570 (May 27, 1191). 55. “Quoniam pium est et utriusque uite felicitatem attingit ecclesias et habitacula diuine maiestatis laudi constructa et religiosis inculta personis temporalibus supple-

Kingship in the Preambles of Alfonso viii’s charters 27 mentis sufficienter ditare, adeo ut ex occupatione lucri secularis Deum colentium non contaminetur religio.” González, Alfonso VIII, 3:64–67, no. 600 (July 8, 1192). 56. “Quoniam pium est et illis precipue conuenit quibus potestas in mundanis celitus est concessa religiosos ab iniquorum enormitate defendere, presertim eos qui inter impios conuersantes assiduis nequam ictibus impelluntur et solius diuina sufragia uisitationis expectant.” González, Alfonso VIII, 3:75–77, no. 605 (August 13, 1192). 57. Joseph F. O’Callaghan, Reconquest and Crusade in Medieval Spain (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2003), 50–77. Also see The Latin Chronicle of the Kings of Castile, trans. Joseph F. O’Callaghan (Tempe: Arizona Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 2002). 58. Carlos de Ayala Martínez, Las órdenes militares hispánicas en la Edad Media (siglos XII–XV) (Madrid: Marcial Pons, 2007). 59. “Regali nempe conuenit maiestati religiosos uiros et honestos diligere, honorare et ab impiorum incursibus omnino defendere, sed eos precipue qui relictis secularibus mundique huius pompa penitus spreta, contra crucis Christi inimicos se ipsos exponentes sanguinem proprium effundere deuotissime decreuerunt.” González, Alfonso VIII, 2:493–94, no. 301 (May 12, 1178). See also 376–78, no. 225 (May 18, 1175). 60. “Inter cetera pietatis opera precipuum est a regibus specialiter conueniens loca que pia actio instituit uenerari ac diligere, et earum possessiones augmentare, presertim tamen ea in quibus Christi milites ad anime laborant gloriam et ad Christianorum militant defensionem.” González, Alfonso VIII, 2:593–95, no. 350 (August 19, 1180). 61. “Quoniam regum et principum interest uiros religiosos et eos qui pro Christi nominis defensione contra hostes Sarracenorum incursus pro uiribus se oponunt diligere et eorum res et possessiones augmentare et que sibi largiuntur a fidelibus confirmare.” González, Alfonso VIII, 3:83–85, no. 610 (February 20, 1193). 62. Joseph F. O’Callaghan, “Martín Pérez de Siones, Maestre de Salvatierra,” Hispania 22 (1962): 163–70; idem, “Sobre los orígines de Calatrava la Nueva,” Hispania 23 (1963): 494–504, both reprinted in my The Spanish Military Order of Calatrava and Its Affiliates (London: Variorum Reprints, 1975), nos. II–III. Also see my “The Order of Calatrava: Years of Crisis and Survival, 1158–1212,” in The Meeting of Two Worlds: Cultural Exchange between East and West during the Period of the Crusades, ed. Vladimir P. Goss (Kalamazoo: Western Michigan University, 1986): 419–30. 63. “Regum et principum interest uiros religiosos et eos qui pro Christi nomin[is defensione] contra hostes sarracenorum [incursus] pro [viribus diligenter oponunt diligere] et eorum res [et] possessiones augmentare.” González, Alfonso VIII, 3:393–94, 512–13, nos. 794 (February 22, 1207), 862 (March 10, 1210). 64. “Inter cetera pietatis opera precipuum est christianum religionem ab incursibus sarracenorum defensare et eos qui postposita seculari pompa ad hoc pro salute animarum suarum et ad defensionem Christianitatis constituti sunt promouere donationibus et exaltare.” González, Alfonso VIII, 2:598–99, no. 352 (December 16, 1180). 65. “Inter cetera pietatis opera piissimum et et saluti animarum accomodum christianos captiuos redimere et eos qui ad hoc intendunt terrenis facultatibus iuuare.” González, Alfonso VIII, 2:568–70, no. 338 (April 2, 1180). 66. “Iustum est et rationi consentaneum et regibus et terrarum principibus potissimum, et specialiter congruit, eos qui obsequiis regum et principum diligere et deuote assistunt dignis remunerare stipendiis, et bono operi fructum uirentem recompensare

28 Joseph F. O’Callaghan et ubi mundane remunerationis causam diuini intuitus comes ratio amplexatur, donum suscipientibus dupplici de causa collatum ad salutem cedit anime conferentis, et laudem humanam nichilominus promeretur, precipue uero quod illis confertur qui bono et commendabili zelo ducti, contemptis mundanis pompis et spreto seculari tumultu, in defensionem Christiane religionis et eius dilationem et inimicorum crucis Christi expugnationem, perfidie sarracenice opprimende se muros inexpugnabiles constituunt, et non memores agni qui pro nostra occisus est redemptione, Saluatori suo assidue militant, indesinenti desudant certamine, sanguinem suum sub lege martirii effundere non formidant, et sic tandem Deo soli uitam finire letantur.” González, Alfonso VIII, 2:745–47, no. 432 (April 22, 1185). 67. O’Callaghan, Reconquest, 199–201. 68. “Inter cetera pietatis opera potissimum est et regibus specialius conuenit religiosorum bona multiplicare et augere, maxime illorum qui assidue pro patria pugnantes certamine tam oratione quam propri sanguinis effusione Christiantiatis loca et habitationes uiriliter in Domino defendant.” González, Alfonso VIII, 2:749–51, no. 435 (June 6, 1185). 69. On pro patria mori see Kantorowicz, The King’s Two Bodies, 232–72, Pro patria mori. For pugna pro patria see Post, Studies in Medieval Legal Thought, 435–52. 70. O’Callaghan, Learned King, 17–30; Joseph R. Strayer, On the Medieval Origins of the Modern State (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1970). 71. “Regali sane maiestati expedit et ad salutem animarum et Christianitatis provectum accidit viros robustos et constantes in fide contra infidelium perfidiam in locis que assidua per eos importunitate infestantur constituere, presertim ad Dei laudem et divinum huiusmodi obsequiumn tales debent assumi qui divina inspiratione, spreta seculari pompa sub voto et dispositione regulari pie ac simpliciter viventes in defensionem Christiane fidei se murum indefensum contra saevitiam paganorum opponunt.” González, Alfonso VIII, 3:139–41, no. 641 (March 6, 1195). 72. Joseph F. O’Callaghan, “The Foundation of the Order of Alcántara, 1176–1218,” Catholic Historical Review 47 (1962): 471–86, reprinted in my Spanish Military Order of Calatrava, no. IV. 73. “Quanto largius fides pululat et augetur christiana religio, tanto magis inuocatione diuini nominis superna gloriatur maiestas et suis fidelibus exhibet quod spopondit. Unde pium est et saluti animarum expedit his in locis paganorum regioni affinibus urbes construere et Christicolarum eggregiationes plantare que infidelium nequitie sint in obstaculum et omnium Creatori in gloriam et laudem.” González, Alfonso VIII, 2:891–93, no. 520 (March 8, 1189). 74. O’Callaghan, Reconquest, 14–17. 75. “Non meis meritis sed Dei misericordia et meorum auxilio uassallorum.” González, Alfonso VIII, 3:620–21, no. 927 (November 21, 1214). See also the comments of Ayala Martínez in this volume concerning the context of this shift in emphasis towards acknowledgment of the king’s vassals. 76. “Quoniam omne datum optimum et omne donum perfectum descendens a Patre luminum non debet sapiens in sapiencia, non fortis in fortitudine, non diues in diuiciis gloriari, unus enim est qui operatur omnia in omnibus, dominus Ihesus Christus, huic ergo flectatur omne genu, huic omnis lingua confiteatur, quia in eo qui summi Patris sapientia est, summus Pater deuincit superbum et humiliat ut uulnera-

Kingship in the Preambles of Alfonso viii’s charters 29 tum, eius uero sapienca in hoc manifeste claruit quod regem Marrochitanum Mafomat almiramomelin, cuius potestati non est potestas super terram que possit comparari, qui factus est ut neminem timeret, qui solus occupat terciam partem tocius orbis que Affrica dicitur, et de alia tercia, scilicet, de Europa in Hyspaniis usque ad triginta dioceses, que quondam partem christiani cultui subfuerant, noscitur occupare, qui etiam in superbia elatus tanquam Lucifer omnibus crucem Christi adorantibus indixit campestre bellum, hunc inquam regem per nostre paruitatis misterium, uenuientem multitudinem maximam et comminantem cultum destruere christianum, apud Nauas de Tolosa sternere per Sancte Crucis uictoriam campestri bello misericorditer est dignatus. ubi cesis de suis ferme ducentis milibus armatorum, ipse fugacis uehiculo et fuge presidio est saluatus. Cum itaque retribuere Domino pro his que nobis retribuit non sufficiamus, saltem de his qui tribuit matri sue pro paruitatis nostre titulo modulo retributionem aliquam laboramus.” González, Alfonso VIII, 3:592–94, no. 910 (August 19, 1213). 77. “Decet magnos ut obsequia sibi impensa remunerent ex condigno, precipue ubi temporalis attenditur et celestis remuneracio expectatur.” González, Alfonso VIII, 3:594–96, no. 911 (August 22, 1213). 78. “Dignum est et rationi consentaneum ut grandia fideliaque seruitia condigna premia consequantur.” González, Alfonso VIII, 3:574–76, 587–88, nos. 899 (October 31, 1212), 907 (July 28, 1213). 79. González, Alfonso VIII, 3:577–78, no. 901 (December 9, 1212). 80. For the subsequent development of these ideas, see the following from José Manuel Nieto Soria: Fundamentos ideológicos del poder real en Castilla (siglos XIII– XVI) (Madrid: Eudema, 1988); ed., Orígenes de la monarquía hispánica: Propaganda y legitimación (ca. 1400–1520) (Madrid: Dykinson, 1999); ed., La monarquía como conflicto en la Corona de Castilla, siglos XIII al XVI (Madrid: Sílex, 2006).

Chapter two Selling Castile: Coinage, Propaganda, and Mediterranean Trade in the Age of Alfonso VIII James J. Todesca

O

f the kingdoms that emerged in medieval Iberia, Castile is perhaps the most recognizable to non-Hispanists today. While American school children may still recognize Isabella (1474–1504) of Castile as one of the patrons of Christopher Columbus, they almost certainly have not heard of her predecessor Alfonso VIII (1158–1214). Yet it is largely due to Alfonso’s achievement that Isabella is remembered as queen of Castile and not León. Beginning its political life as a fortified county of León, Castile had long been considered secondary in importance. In a reign spanning almost sixty years, Alfonso VIII transformed the kingdom’s image. As Peter Linehan remarked, he raised himself “to the summit of the hierarchy of Europe’s monarchs.” This study examines one of Alfonso’s paths to solidifying and advancing his kingdom—his monetary policy. As did his contemporaries throughout Latin Europe, Alfonso struck silveralloyed denarii to serve as coins of daily exchange in an expanding monetary economy. He also introduced a high-value gold piece, derived from the dinar of his Muslim neighbors, which was more suitable for long-distance trade. His combined handling of these two species of coin helps demonstrate that monetary policy in the medieval era could amount to more than spendthrift kings making impromptu decisions.

Castile Before 1158 Alfonso’s grandfather, Alfonso VII, ruled León-Castile from 1126 until 1157. While he allowed himself the title of emperor as a claim to peninsula hegemony, he also routinely recognized the constituent parts of his realm. A grant to the bishop elect of Burgos in 1140, for example, was done in the name of “Alfonso, emperor, ruling in Toledo, León, Zaragoza, Castile (and) Galicia.” Toledo, the urbs regia of the Visigoths, is here given pride of place, followed by León. Castile is listed second-to-last. The main narrative of the reign, the Chronicle of the Emperor Alfonso, also stresses León’s prestige. The final portion is a poem describing Alfonso’s Crusade

30

Selling Castile 31 against the Muslim port of Almeria in 1147. The chronicler, perhaps Bishop Arnaldo of Astorga, portrays León as the fountainhead of royal authority: León occupies the summit of the whole of the Hispanic kingdom, with royal diligence she investigates the privileges of the king. The laws of the fatherland are interpreted according to her judgment; with her assistance fierce wars are waged. His opinion of Castile is not as lofty: Noble Castile, eager for terrible wars, could scarcely bring herself to bow her neck to any king. She lived untamed while the light of heaven shone. But now the Emperor’s good fortune has tamed her for good. He alone has tamed Castile like a she-donkey. While personal loyalty may have skewed our author’s view, numismatic evidence also underscores that León held a premier place in Alfonso VII’s empire. By the twelfth century, most denarii in Latin Europe were stuck from an alloy containing less than fifty percent silver. Numismatists normally refer to these dark coins as billon rather than silver. Alfonso VII issued an array of billon denarii, many associating León with the imperial title. Figure 1 shows one such denarius with a cross on the obverse surrounded by INPERA; on the reverse a lion’s head appears with the legend LEONIS. While other denarii of Alfonso VII, as well as those of his predecessors Urraca (1109–1126) and Alfonso VI (1065–1109), invoke Toledo, they never cite Castile. Castile’s rise to prominence can be traced to the rivalry between Alfonso VII’s sons. By 1142, Alfonso raised his eldest boy, Sancho, and his second son, Ferdinand, to the dignity of kingship though neither was yet ten years old.

Figure 1. Denarius of Alfonso VII. Jesús Vico, S.A., auction 135, lot 396. Obv. +INPERA, cross, A and N in field. Rev. +LEONIS, lion head.

32 James J. Todesca By the early 1150s, Sancho had a sub-kingdom in the Rioja and parts of Castile, while Ferdinand built up a base of support in Galicia and León. Their father allowed them to issue diplomas, but it is not clear he envisioned the boys ruling independently from one another after him. Nonetheless, when Alfonso died returning from the unsuccessful relief of Almeria in August of 1157, Sancho was unable to bring his younger brother to heel. As Reilly put it, the division of the empire was “determined by power rather than testament.” The brothers met the following May in Sahagún to recognize the de facto division of their father’s empire. Ferdinand II (1157–1188) appears in the treaty as king “of León and Galicia,” while Sancho III (1157–1158) is king “of Toledo and Castile.” The denarii Sancho struck in his brief reign, however, read simply SANCIUS REX TOLETA with no mention of Castile. He might have eventually compelled Ferdinand to recognize his lordship, but he died three months after the Sahagún meeting leaving his son, Alfonso VIII, as successor. The boy, not yet three, was now an orphan, as his mother had died not long after his birth.

Billon Coinage in Castile, c. 1158–1176 Four years after Sancho III’s death, in August 1162, Ferdinand occupied Toledo, claiming to be his nephew’s guardian. The following January, he held an assembly of nobles and prelates from both realms in the Castilian town of Atienza. One of the diplomas from that meeting reestablished minting in the town of Palencia, allowing its bishop a share of the profits. In the charter, Ferdinand declared that he, as “king of the Spains,” was acting with the prior counsel of his “nephew, King Alfonso, whom I hold in my tutelage until (his) fourteenth year.” Alfonso himself was apparently not present as he is not listed among the witnesses. The denarius in Figure 2 might be the product of this grant. Like

Figure 2. Denarius of Fernando II with Alfonso VIII. Jesús Vico, S.A., auction 140, lot 268. Obv. FRNANDVS REX, cross, 4 points. Rev. ALFOVNS, crowned figure standing, smaller figure to left.

Selling Castile 33 the charter, the coin very much stresses Ferdinand’s hegemony. The obverse displays a cross and reads FRNANDVS REX. The reverse rudimentarily depicts a crowned man, sword in one hand and perhaps a palm in the other; to his left is a small boy. The poorly engraved legend reads ALFONS with no royal title. While this piece made a clear political statement, it probably did not inspire much confidence in turbulent times. As the European economy became more monetized in the twelfth century, people, merchants in particular, were less tolerant of changes to the coins. They did not want novelty but something familiar that they could trust. Ferdinand’s father, Alfonso VII, left behind an array of coin types that still mystify numismatists. He doubtless attempted to recall older types when issuing a new one, but a confusing assortment of denarii probably remained in circulation. In 1155, the papal legate Cardinal Hyacinth implored Alfonso and his two sons to settle on one coin. But the fragile political situation that emerged two years later with Alfonso VII’s death encouraged this capricious attitude to continue. The joint piece of Ferdinand and his nephew was struck from several dies, distinguished by annulets on both obverse and reverse, but it probably did not enjoy a long life in circulation. Other limited issues followed, including a piece showing a sole figure standing with sword and palm, perhaps an attempt to exert Alfonso’s independence. The coin depicted in Figure 3 further illustrates the idiosyncrasies of these years. No physical specimen of this coin is publically known today; we have only two rubbings or impressions published by collectors that testify to its existence. The piece, as we have it, invokes no ruler or political authority. The obverse reads ERA MCCIIII, a date corresponding to AD 1166, while the reverse reads TOLETVM around an ornate cross. Latin denarii rarely carry dates. A Danish coin dated 1224 is the only other reported example before the late fourteenth century. What are we to make then of this very unusual Toledan type? In March 1166, the Castilian bishops rallied to defend Alfonso VIII from his

Figure 3. Anonymous Denarius of Castile. Alvaro Campaner, “Conjecture sur une monnaie de l’epoque de Alphonse VIII de Castille,” Revue Numismatique, n.s., 9 (1864): 14. Obv. +ERA MCCIIII, cross. Rev. +TOLETVM, cross.

34 James J. Todesca uncle Ferdinand. Led by the archbishop of Toledo, Juan de Castellmorum, “all the bishops of the kingdom” assembled at Segovia since the Leonese controlled Toledo. The first canon of their council demanded, by threat of excommunication and interdict, that all those holding honors of the king do homage to him by May 1. More broadly, canon 2 required “his entire kingdom” to come to its defense when called by the king. Those who failed to do so were to be excommunicated while those who came were granted the same “remission of penance” as if they “visited Jerusalem.” Canon 3 forbade anyone to make war within the kingdom. By August, support for Alfonso was growing as the Mozarabs of Toledo expelled Ferdinand II’s governor, Fernando Rodríguez de Castro. Alfonso held court in nearby Maqueda, attended by townsmen from Segovia, Ávila and Maqueda as well as the eight Castilian bishops. He entered Toledo by September 1, 1166, calling himself king in Castile, Toledo, Extremadura, Nájera, and Asturias. Though Archbishop Juan, who had helped spark the Castilian resurgence, died soon afterward, the royal court stayed on in Toledo through Christmas with Alfonso perhaps issuing the so-called fuero refundido, “a single code for all citizens” of the town. In Linehan’s opinion, “more than any other single act to date, the recovery of Toledo . . . secured the young king’s future.” Is our coin from Toledo reading ERA MCCIIII meant to commemorate the year that bishops and townsmen rallied to save Castile and their eleven-year-old king? Probably not. More likely the piece reflects the uncertainty of the times. The moneyer, perhaps a Mozarab, was probably not sure who had the stronger claim in the city, Alfonso or his uncle. Rather than include the ruler, he opted for the Muslim custom of including the date. If the Segovia synod of 1166 attempted to legitimize Alfonso’s kingdom of Castile by encouraging its inhabitants to defend it, this coin may reflect a corresponding ambiguity toward the king and his kingdom. Yet considering its extreme rarity, it can only be that few were struck. As with the coin showing Ferdinand protecting the young Alfonso, its impact was limited. Alfonso turned fourteen on November 11, 1169 and convoked a celebratory court in Burgos to mark his coming of age. Immediately prior to the cortes, he was knighted at the monastery of San Zoilo de Carrión. Envoys had perhaps already been sent to negotiate his betrothal to Leonor, the pre-adolescent daughter of Henry II (1154–1189) of England. The coin type showing a crowned, seemingly young man on horseback (Figures 4–8) was likely issued around this time. Heiss described the equestrian on the coin as riding a la jineta, that is in the crouched fashion of the Berbers rather than the stiff-legged style of the Franks. Whether or not the coin’s rudimentary type justifies such an interpretation, other elements of the piece signal the beginning of a more mature monetary policy. Whereas the coin picturing Ferdinand and young Alfonso used a series of annulets as privy marks, this equestrian issue employed more readily

Figure 4. Denarius of Alfonso VIII, wt. 1.12 grams. Jesús Vico, S.A., auction 131, lot 665 (formerly Hispanic Society of America 1.259). Obv. TOLETAS⋮, cross, arms end in crescent. Rev. Crowned equestrian, facing r., S below horse.

Figure 5. Denarius of Alfonso VIII, wt. 1.03 grams. Áureo and Calicó, auction 256, lot 1623. Obv. TOLETAS⋮, cross, arms end in crescent. Rev. Crowned equestrian, facing r., O below horse.

Figure 6. Denarius of Alfonso VIII, wt. 1.02 grams. Áureo and Calicó, auction 256, lot 1625. Obv. TOLETAS⋮, cross, arms end in crescent. Rev. Crowned equestrian, facing r., three dots below horse.

36 James J. Todesca

Figure 7. Denarius of Alfonso VIII. Jesús Vico, S.A., auction 131, lot 662 (possibly Hispanic Society of America 1.26866). Obv. TOLETAS⋮, cross, arms end in crescent. Rev. Crowned equestrian, facing r., no mark below horse.

Figure 8. Denarius of Alfonso VIII, wt. 0.97 grams. Áureo and Calicó, auction 256, lot 1622. Obv. TOLETAS⋮, cross, arms end in crescent. Rev. Crowned equestrian, facing r., A below horse.

identifiable mint marks. Figure 4 shows an S below the horse, while in Figure 5 an O replaces the S. Collantes published other examples showing an E, a star (placed under or in front of the horse), and a crescent. In Figure 6, moreover, we find three points below the rider while Figure 7 has a rider with no mark at all. Finally, a recent auction catalogue published an example (Figure 8) with what appears to be an inverted A. It seems, then, that eight mints (represented by S, O, E, A, three points, a star, a crescent, and no mark) participated in the equestrian issue. Since the reign of Alfonso VI, mints tended to be sited in episcopal sees. The crown allowed the bishops, who acted presumably as overseers, at least a tenth of the generated revenue though not every see had a mint. After the anarchy of

Selling Castile 37 Urraca’s reign, Alfonso VII tightened royal control, shutting down operations in Lugo and Palencia, as well as at the monastery of Sahagún and reducing some of the profit shares of his other bishops. Ferdinand II somewhat reversed this policy. He restored the mint at Lugo shortly after his father’s death, honoring the bishops’ right to a third of the profit. Five years later, he returned full mint rights to Santiago, though his father had fought hard to retain half those revenues. Finally, in an attempt to win support in Castile during Alfonso’s VIII minority, he reestablished minting in Palencia. As we have seen, he allowed that bishop half the profits. Upon reaching his majority, Alfonso VIII followed a minting policy comparable to his uncle’s. The eight Castilian bishops (of Toledo, Burgos, Palencia, Segovia, Ávila, Osma, Sigüenza, and Calahorra) had rallied to support him in 1166 and they naturally attended the cortes marking his majority in 1169. By then four of the sees, Toledo, Burgos, Segovia, and Palencia, enjoyed mint revenues; they had all minted under his predecessors. Between 1170 and 1176, Alfonso granted minting privileges to the other four. This expansion of mints is reflected in the eight mint marks of the equestrian coin. On March 5, 1170, Alfonso allowed the bishop of Sigüenza a tenth of all royal revenues in his dioceses including “decimam quoque monetarum.” As we have seen, the equestrian issue bears four letter marks: S, E, O, and A. Domingo Figuerola suggested that E, which has no obvious correspondence to one of Alfonso’s bishoprics, stood for (Castilian) Extremadura and was adopted by Sigüenza, allowing the older mint at Segovia to employ S. On the other hand, Segovia also qualifies as a part of Extremadura, so Domingo’s assignation could be reversed. Interpreting the O and A marks is a bit more straightforward. In 1174, Alfonso drew up a detailed charter for the bishop of Osma which either granted or confirmed possessions and revenues throughout the diocese. In the town of Soria, the bishop of Osma was to hold the following: that dam in the Duero which is below the large bridge . . . including both sides of the river, with its water mills and (other) mills and land and all its pertinences; and a tenth of all tolls and from all labor owed the king, and from tribute (pectis), the fifth, shield money (fossaderiis), and from all royal revenues, and from moneta and from the baths. Soria, on the banks of the Duero with mills and baths, was perhaps a logical place for a mint but it was not an episcopal see. The bishop of Osma’s mark of O, then, was placed on the equestrian coins struck at Soria. Two years later, in 1176, the bishop of Ávila received a generous share of a third “of all the royal revenues in Ávila” including “de monetis.” In light of this grant, there is little reason to doubt that the mark shown in Figure 8 is an A. The bishop of Calahorra was the eighth prelate to support Alfonso in 1166 and attend his cortes in November 1169. The following spring, within a week of

38 James J. Todesca his grant to Sigüenza, Alfonso allowed the bishop of Calahorra a tenth of the money made in that town. In addition to letters, the equestrian coin employed three points, a star, a crescent, and no mark. Calahorra must have used one of these while Toledo, Burgos, and Palencia signed with the others. When Alfonso conquered the town of Cuenca in September of 1177, he was just shy of his twenty-second birthday. Having come of age as a warrior, the king now possessed a confidence that surely contributed to tenser relations with the bishops who had protected him in his youth. By 1180, he was forced to be more conciliatory. In a series of charters issued that year and the following, he promised not to pilfer the property of dead churchmen and, more substantially, absolved clerics from paying ordinary services or taxes unless the archbishop of Toledo consented. Nonetheless, Alfonso became more guarded in his generosity toward individual bishops. In Carolina Carl’s opinion, he gave the bishop of Calahorra “the royal cold shoulder” after 1180. His treatment of the newly created see of Cuenca showed similar restraint. The first bishop of Cuenca was consecrated in late 1183, and Alfonso supported the office with concessions from crown lands in 1182 and 1183. He made further grants in 1187. But it was not until September 1195, probably as work on the new cathedral got underway, that the king allowed the bishop a tenth of most royal revenues in Cuenca and other districts. He, however, held back a share from the royal exaction known as petitum, perhaps now collected annually, and fonsadera, payment owed in lieu of military service. He also made no mention of minting. Cuenca would wait almost a hundred years before it had a mint. A few years earlier, the archbishop of Toledo, whose consent Alfonso now needed to request aid from the Castilian church, also felt the sting of royal constraint. In August 1192, Alfonso confirmed for Martín, the newly consecrated archbishop of Toledo, his right to a “tenth of all money made” there but added, for the first time, “except the gold money.”

The Morabetino Alfonsino In the early 1170s, perhaps as the equestrian issue was winding down, Alfonso took the monetary initiative that helped put Castile on the European map; he began striking the gold morabetino alfonsino in Toledo (Figure 9). Derived from the dinar of the Almoravids, it was not simply an imitation of that coin. The reverse of the Almoravid dinar, for example, typically had a central inscription in four lines proclaiming “al-imam / abd/ Allah/ amir al-muʾminin” or “the Imam / Servant / of God / Commander of the Faithful.” All three titles were nods to the Abbasid caliph in the east. The name of the Almoravid heir was sometimes added as a fifth line. Following the Almoravid model, the morabetino alfonsino on its reverse originally read, in Arabic, “the Imam [of] the Church / [of] the Messiah [the] Pope / [of] Rome the Great” in three lines with a cross above. In 1184, the third line was changed to read ALF in Latin letters.

Selling Castile 39 On the obverse, the circular border inscription gave the place and date of minting in the Islamic fashion. The example in Figure 9 was minted in Toledo, Era 1247 or AD 1209. The dates on surviving morabetinos alfonsinos testify to the coin’s steady production. Specimens exist with dates corresponding to 1173, 1174, and 1175 and, after a brief gap, for each year from 1181 until Alfonso’s death in 1214. The mint at Toledo, then, engraved at least one new obverse die (so as to change the date) annually from 1181 until 1214, a period of thirty-four years. We might assume it

Figure 9. Morabetino of Alfonso VIII, wt. 3.83 grams. Jesús Vico, S.A., auction 131, lot 658 (formerly Hispanic Society of America 1.25566); cf. José Maria de Francisco Olmos, “El maravedí de oro de Alfonso VIII: Un mensaje cristiano escrito en árabe,” Revista General de Información y Documentación 8 (1998): 293–96. Obv. Field: The Commander of the Catholics Alfonso, son of Sancho May God aid him And protect him Margin: This dinar was minted in Medina Toledo year 1247 of the Era of Safar Rev. Field: Cross The Imam [of] the Church [of] the Messiah, [the] Pope ALF Margin: In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, God is One, he who believes and is baptized will be saved.

40 James J. Todesca

Figure 10. Copper Weight or Pattern (Piedfort) for Morabetino of Alfonso VIII, wt. 3.49 grams. Jesús Vico, S.A., auction 132, lot 740 (formerly Hispanic Society of America 1.1700).

would not go through this expense if there was no need, i.e., if the dies were not well used. Metcalf estimated, at least in the production of silver coins, that one die could produce about 10,000 coins before wearing out. We might further assume that the mint used more than one set of dies at a time. Copper pieces exist that reproduce only the central legend of the morabetino alfonsino (Figure 10). Mateu y Llopis maintained these coppers were weights but surviving examples are significantly lighter than the approximate 3.90 gram standard of the morabetino. Contemporary Islamic weights are, on the other hand, close to that standard. Possibly, then, these copper alfonsinos were not weights but instead played some role in production. They were perhaps trial pieces or served as patterns (or piedforts), showing die engravers the basic central fields as they modified the obverse marginal inscriptions. Unlike some of Alfonso’s early billon, his morabetino shows no sign of being a short-lived propaganda piece. Its persistent appearance in charters, both in Castile as well as in Aragon-Catalonia and Navarre, shows it filled an economic niche. The archbishop of Toledo must have regretted the king’s decision to cut him out of the profits. Indeed, Alfonso’s heirs continued to strike the coin. There are specimens known with dates of 1216 and 1217, corresponding to the brief reign of his son, Henry I (1214–1217). Under Ferdinand III (1217–1252) and Alfonso X (1252–1284) the type was immobilized, that is the mint struck it without changing the date. According to Angel González Palencia, two Mozarabic bills of sale from Toledo in the spring of 1224 refer to mencals (dinars) of alfonsine gold “which the mint has now put into circulation.” As late as 1263, the cathedral chapter of Tudela in Aragon purchased two vineyards “for 72 morabetinos alfonsinos of good gold, newly minted and of right weight.” The sellers of those vineyards were right to examine these gold pieces carefully. In nearby Tarazona, James I (1213–1276) of Aragon uncovered counterfeiters making debased morabetinos alfonsinos in 1267. Forgery is perhaps the

Selling Castile 41 best indication of the coin’s popularity. When Alfonso X tried to regulate his coinage at Jerez in 1268, he still considered the morabetino alfonsino a current coin though increasing financial trouble as well as the advent of the Italian gold florin and genovino led him to abandon it soon after. Still the piece had an impressive run of almost one hundred years, from 1173 to c. 1268. To understand its success, we have to retrace our steps slightly.

The Morabetino in the Mediterranean At the opening of the twelfth century, the Almoravid kingdom in al-Andalus and North Africa was at its height. With access to the Ghana gold trade, it produced quality gold dinars of approximately 4 grams. In the east, the gold of the Abbasid caliphate had fluctuated in the hands of rival factions, particularly the Buwayhids, though stability seems to have returned after 1055 under the Seljuks. Likewise the fineness of the gold hyperpyron of Constantinople, struck at the classical Roman standard of 4.5 grams, had gone up and down in the eleventh century. By 1100, then, the dinar of the Fatimids was the most respected in the East. But after the First Crusade, Acre (1104), Tripoli (1109), and Tyre (1124) came under Latin control and Christians there struck debased imitations of Fatimid dinars. While the Fatimids continued to strike good gold at Alexandria, confidence in their coins began to falter. The Cairo Geniza records show that trade between Alexandria and al-Andalus was steady in the twelfth century and, as Goitein pointed out, merchants began to take notice of the new Almoravid dinar. One merchant wrote excitedly from al-Mahdiyya in Tunisia c. 1100 about purchasing 100 morabetinos and sending them on to a colleague in Fustat: “I did not occupy myself with anything else until I succeeded in buying them,” he exclaimed. At about the same time an Alexandrian merchant sent westwards ingots of silver with the instructions, “Buy me dinars, Murabitis, Aghmatis or quarters, but not one shred of textiles.” By the 1130s, however, a new Berber movement, the Almohads, had challenged the Almoravids in the Maghreb. With the Almoravids distracted, Muslim lords in al-Andalus rebelled and created new principalities (taifas) while Alfonso VII and other Christian princes took advantage of this fitnah to raid widely. Morabetinos, older ones as well as those struck by the renegade taifas, now made their way into the Iberian Christian economy in growing numbers. In 1146, Alfonso VII allied with the Genoese to undertake the siege of Almeria. He agreed that when the Genoese arrived the next spring he would advance them, for the expenses of the siege, 10,000 “marabetinos marinos melechinos visifinos murechinos.” What the scribe meant here by visifinos is not clear, but marinos likely indicated morabetinos minted in Almeria (al-Mariya) while melechinos were of Malaga (Malaqa) and murechinos from Murcia (Mursiya). Alfonso’s payment, then, would be in morabetinos of mixed provenance and, we might suspect, of varying quality.

42 James J. Todesca The next year, as Alfonso and the Genoese laid siege to Almeria, the Almohads crossed the strait to begin a drawn-out, if sporadic, conquest of alAndalus. Muhammad ibn Saʾd ibn Mardanīsh was the most successful of the Andalusi princes in resisting. He held a kingdom centered around Murcia, Valencia, and Denia until his death in 1172. Known as el Rey Lobo to the Christians, he needed their support to survive. He may have aided Alfonso VII as early as 1147 and seems to have become his vassal by 1156. He also paid tribute to Ramon Berenguer IV (1131–1162) of Aragon-Catalonia and hired Christian mercenaries. As a result, his morabetino lupino, which normally weighed about 3.90 grams, became very familiar to the Christian princes of Iberia as well as to the Genoese. For their role in the fall of Almeria in 1147, the Genoese gained one-third of the city. The following year they received a third of Tortosa for aiding Ramon Berenguer in its conquest. Sandwiched between the ports of Almeria and Tortosa, Ibn Mardanīsh agreed in 1149 to pay the Genoese 15,000 morabetinos if they did not harass his possessions for ten years. A short time later, in 1153, Genoa decided to sell its rights in Tortosa to Ramon Berenguer, For the price namely of 16,040 morabetinos of Marrakesh, of Almeria, of Ibn Iyad, of Lobo, of Malaga, how so ever they are mixed there, rendered at the weight of the lupino. Here the Genoese had become savvier than in their initial dealings with Alfonso VII. While accepting coins of mixed origin, they insisted on using the lupino as a weight standard. In other words, miscellaneous gold dinars were placed on a scale until reaching the theoretical weight of 16,040 dinars of Ibn Mardanīsh. The Genoese renewed their treaty with Ibn Mardanīsh in 1161 for another 10,000 morabetinos. In that same year, Genoa also concluded an agreement with Ibn Mardanīsh’s enemy, the Almohad caliph, ʿAbd al Muʾmin (d. 1163), reducing tolls on Genoese ships in Almohad ports (save Bougie). By this time, ʿAbd al Muʾmin was striking a radically new dinar that weighed only about 2.4 grams as opposed to the traditional standard of approximately 4 grams. He seems to have intended these light dinars to denote a clear break with the Almoravids. The Latins called the smaller coin the mazmudina, an allusion to the Almohads’ origin among the Berber Masmuda tribes. In 1161, the year of the treaty with ʿAbd al Muʾmin, the Genoese notary Giovanni Scriba recorded a loan to a merchant named Tantus of 300 “bisancios messemutinos” to be repaid in Ceuta. Outside the Almohad domains, however, the morabetino continued to play a role in Genoese trade, though it is difficult to quantify. Genoese notarial contracts were primarily concerned with recording the initial capital invested in a voyage, most often expressed in Genoese denarii, and not with the actual goods carried. Occasionally, however, details emerge. For example, in 1156, Ogerio gave William of Sauri in commenda 20 1/4 morabetinos, reckoned by

Selling Castile 43 weight, nine pounds of saffron, and a quantity of coral. William was to carry all of this to Alexandria or another port of his choice. In 1161, Ogerio Berizo took in commenda almost forty pounds of silk and a number of morabetinos to purchase alum in Alexandria. The coins fell four carats shy of 26 morabetinos of weight. We can perhaps assume that in both contracts the lupino was employed as the weight standard. Two further examples illustrate the morabetino’s renown amongst the Genoese. A merchant named Jordan accepted slightly more than 310 pounds of denarii from an investor in Genoa in 1156 for trade in Valencia. What he actually carried to Valencia we are not told. But, if the other merchants on his ship agreed, he was to continue to Alexandria. For doing so, he was to be paid a minimum of “12 morabetinos such as they give in Spain.” The notary here originally wrote 12 bezants, the generic term for dinar, but then rubbed it out and put in morabetinos. Perhaps Jordan wanted to make sure he ended up with lupinos and not Fatimid dinars of questionable provenance. In 1186, Lanfranc accepted a loan of 10 pounds Genoese which he promised to repay at Gabès with “50 bezants morabetini of the best bezants that I will have.” Again the language here implies the morabetino was held in high esteem and Genoese merchants, at least occasionally, carried it eastward. One wonders whose morabetino Lanfranc intended to pay with when he spoke of “the best bezants that I will have” in 1186. In the final years of his life, Ibn Mardanīsh had run short of gold. Beginning in AH 564 (AD 1168/69) he struck dinars at approximately 2.25 grams, essentially the weight of the Almohad mazmudina. In AH 566 (AD 1170/71), the year he pledged 40,000 dinars annually to the king of Aragon, his morabetino fell to less than 2 grams. These coins seem to be his last. He reportedly died 10 Rajab, 567 or March of 1172. Alfonso VIII’s morabetino appeared in 1173 with a restored weight of approximately 3.90 grams. Rather than simply adapting to the lightweight mazmudina of the Almohads, Alfonso and his advisors chose to continue the morabetino, which at its restored weight was a more traditional dinar, comparable to the Fatimid dinar in the East. Perhaps Alfonso at first was simply attempting to provide continuity in the Castilian economy which had become accustomed to the morabetino. But the crown could not continue to strike the coin year after year unless the mint made a profit. Someone had to be willing to bring gold or silver to the mint and exchange it for morabetinos after the mint deducted its seigniorage. Genoese notarial records showing trade with Christian Spain at the close of the twelfth century are rare. But notaries mainly recorded partnerships which tended to be formed for long journeys. Voyages to Spain were shorter than to the East, and if undertaken in smaller ships by free agents they may well have left no notarial contracts. The notary Guglielmo Cassinese, however, recorded four contracts involving Christian Spain, three done for Guglielmo Rataldo. William invested in two voyages to Catalonia in 1191. The following year he gave

44 James J. Todesca in commenda 110 pounds (of denarii) to Hugo Papazolla for a trip to Castile. Hugo was to conduct business in Castile as he saw fit. On his return, he was to render 100 pounds to a certain Anselmo Garrio, not in silver but in gold “at the rate of 4 1/2 bezants of gold per pound.” These bezants must have been morabetinos alfonsinos though the notary Guglielmo does not call them so. Misbach, in his study of Genoese gold payments, found five examples where the morabetino was named in investments sent to the East. At the same time, he lists only one reference to the dinar of Alexandria while he found sixteen references to the bezant of Syria. The Syrian bezant, we should note, meant the debased Crusader coin, and it makes sense that merchants qualified them. Many Genoese contracts speak simply of bezants which may be dinars of Alexandria or, as in the case of Guglielmo Rataldo above, morabetinos. The term bezant is at times used interchangeably with morabetino in the Liber censuum, the book of papal dues originally compiled by the papal chancellor Cencius (later Honorius III) in 1192 (the work survives in interpolated copies). Under the episcopacy of Vic in Catalonia, the Liber records that the monasteries of San Juan of Ripoll and Santa María de Ripoll were each to pay three morabetinos annually, whereas the monastery of San Benet de Bages owed 3 bezants per year. It is inconceivable that San Benet was meant to pay in dinars other than morabetinos. One finds the same practice in documents from Castile itself. Two charters drawn up for the foundation of the church of Piedraescrita in Toledo in 1188 stipulate the church owed 3 bisancios annually to the cathedral of Toledo. But a summary on the back of one of the documents gives the sum as 3 morabetinos. Thus in the Genoese records, the generic bezant may at times disguise the morabetino. Misbach cautioned against the long-held belief that in the Middle Ages gold flowed from the undeveloped West to the East. He argued that the Genoese in fact brought back more gold from the East than they spent there. Still, they probably carried some morabetinos with them on voyages eastward. Moreover, in western Mediterranean trade, Genoese and other merchants’ preference for the coin over local billon may explain why the morabetino alfonsino is conspicuous in Aragon-Catalonia in the decades after Alfonso VIII’s death. In 1247, James I proclaimed a new billon denarius, the real de Valencia, was to be the sole currency in the realm of Valencia (conquered 1232–1238) as well as in the Balearic Islands (conquered 1229–1235). His charter setting up tables of exchange recognized the presence of many coins including morabetinos alfonsinos, mazmudinas and mazmudinas contrafactas, as well as Genoese denarii and grossi. James wanted them all gone, but moneychangers were still dealing with the morabetino alfonsino ten years later. Though debts in gold may have at times been paid in silver, we will recall that as late as 1267 counterfeiters in Aragon found it worth risking their lives to make fake morabetinos alfonsinos (though they also tried their hand at mazmudinas). The preeminence of the morabetino alfonsino among gold coins in the

Selling Castile 45 western Mediterranean is evident in the Crusading records of Count Alphonse of Poitiers. Upon taking the cross in December 1244, Louis IX (1226–1270) of France turned to his younger brother Alphonse for help in raising funds. Among Alphonse’s surviving financial documents is one labeled “Aurum et Argentum Comparatum” detailing how he used denarii of Poitou, Tours, and Paris to buy gold and silver for the East. The bulk of his purchase was sterling silver and other silver ingots for which he paid almost 10,000 pounds of denarii tournois. In addition, he spent roughly 1,600 pounds of denarii tournois to procure slightly more than 71 marks of gold. 3 marks were comprised of light weight mazmudinas (called obolos or half pieces); 3.5 marks were made up of hyperpyron from Constantinople and 3.5 were in the new augustale of Frederick II (1215–1250). The remainder, more than 61 marks, was comprised of anfursinis, or almost 4,000 morabetinos alfonsinos. Of the gold assembled to take east, eighty-six percent was in the coin of Alfonso VIII, Alphonse of Poitiers’ grandfather and namesake. Eighteen years later, in September 1268, Alphonse of Poitiers wrote to his seneschal regarding the new denarius of Poitou. The first rate of exchange he listed was the coin’s value against the gold morabetino alfonsino.

A Successful Bi-Metallic Currency For half a century after his death, then, Alfonso’s gold morabetino played a prominent role in the Mediterranean economy. His contemporary sovereigns in León and Portugal attempted their own versions, but these were distinctly Latin in design and never enjoyed the wide circulation of the Castilian piece. When Ferdinand III reunited León with Castile in 1230, he probably ceased production of the Leonese morabetino in favor of the alfonsino. In Portugal, price decrees promulgated by Afonso III (1248–1279) in 1253 show his “morabitinus nouus de auro” valued at 22 solidi portuguese. The same decrees, however, acknowledge that the stronger “morabitinus alfonsinus” circulated in the kingdom at 30 solidi. Alfonso VIII may have been best remembered by contemporaries for his victory at Las Navas, but his gold piece added to that fame. In terms of the domestic economy, his morabetino drew both gold and silver bullion to the mint in Toledo. That draw may have helped strengthen Alfonso’s silver-based coinage. We have not looked at all of Alfonso’s billon issues but cannot close without mentioning his final two. Sometime before 1207, the king issued a debased coin that came to be called the pepión, a name whose origin is not clear (Figure 11). Unlike the equestrian issue, this coin carries no overt mint marks. Perhaps only one mint struck it, in an effort to conceal its debased nature. The market, however, soon reacted, and in 1207 Alfonso issued price decrees to combat inflation. Either before or after his victory at Las Navas in 1212 he issued a restored coin, probably at the usual fineness of one-third silver which Hyacinth had implored the crown to maintain in 1155 (Figure 12). The

46 James J. Todesca

Figure 11. Denarius, the pepión, of Alfonso VIII. The American Numismatic Society Obv. ANFVS REX, bust, l. Rev. +TOLLETA°, cross, star in 1st and 4th quadrant.

Figure 12. Denarius, the burgalés, of Alfonso VIII, wt. 1.26 grams. Áureo and Calicó, auction 256, lot 1633. Obv. ANFVS REX, crowned bust, l. Rev. CA STE LA, castle w. cross, star to l, C to r.

mint marks on the reverse of this new coin indicate all eight bishoprics with mint rights participated in the striking, though it oddly became known as the burgalés or the coin of Burgos. At some point, probably soon after the appearance of the burgalés, the crown took the crucial step of discounting the weaker pepión so it would not drive the new, stronger coin out of circulation. Thus a treaty between Ferdinand III and the king of León in 1217 recognized that the gold morabetino was worth 90 burgaleses or 180 pepiones. All three coins, pepión, burgalés, and morabetino alfonsino, were now immobilized and circulated until Alfonso X began a series of debasement c. 1264. When Alfonso X’s son Sancho rebelled in 1282, his supporters demanded that he bring back the old, stable coinage.

Selling Castile 47 In the end, Alfonso VIII’s government ably balanced the demands of a bimetallic monetary policy. While the pepión was a debasement, issued probably in response to the hard-pressed campaigns of the 1190s against Muslims and Christians alike, the crown had the wisdom and resources to later undo it. At his death the king left a successful international gold piece alongside a stable billon currency at home. Alfonso’s last billon coin, the burgalés, also aptly reflects the political maturation of the realm. A castle had appeared on Alfonso’s diplomatic seal as early as 1178, about the same time the king began favoring Castile over Toledo in his diplomas. While the pepión invoked Toledo, as had the equestrian issue and the coins of Sancho III, Alfonso’s burgalés proclaimed him king of Castile and displayed a castle on the reverse. When Ferdinand III reclaimed the kingdom of León in 1230 and permanently united the two realms, he put Castile first in his titles. Thus Isabella, more than two hundred years later, was queen of CastileLeón or, more simply, Castile. Notes 1. Peter Linehan, Spain, 1157–1300: A Partible Inheritance (Oxford: Blackwell, 2008), 25. 2. For Alfonso’s increased reliance on coin, see Ignacio Álvarez Borge, “Soldadas, situados y fisco regio en el reinado de Alfonso VIII de Castilla (1158–1214),” JMIS 7 (2015): 57–86. 3. Carlo M. Cipolla, “Currency Depreciation in Medieval Europe,” The Economic History Review, 2nd ser., 15 (1963): 413. Miquel Crusafont recently summarized monetary policy in Castile thus: “The currency lacked stability because . . . monarchs constantly resorted to (revaluation) as a means of boosting income.” Miquel Crusafont, Anna M. Balaguer, and Philip Grierson, eds., Medieval European Coinage, vol. 6, The Iberian Peninsula (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013), 48; hereafter MEC. 4. Alfonso VII used the title of emperor even before his imperial coronation in 1135. See his grant to Salamanca scarcely a month after his mother’s death in José Luis Martín Martín, ed., Documentos de los archivos catedralicio y diocesano de Salamanca (siglos xii–xiii) (Salamanca: Universidad de Salamanca, 1977), 88–89, no. 6; Bernard F. Reilly, “The Chancery of Alfonso VII of León-Castilla: The Period 1116–1135 Reconsidered,” Speculum 51 (1976): 249. By the Treaty of Támara in 1127, Alfonso may have successfully insisted that his rival Alfonso I of Aragon (1104–1134) stop using the title. Bernard F. Reilly, The Kingdom of León-Castilla under King Alfonso VII, 1126–1157 (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1998), 21–23. 5. José Manuel Garrido Garrido, ed., Documentación de la catedral de Burgos, 5 vols. (Burgos: Ediciones J.M. Garrido Garrido, 1983–1984), 1:214–15, no. 123. Hereafter Documentación . . . Burgos. 6. From the 1140s until his death, Alfonso VII “developed a keen interest” in securing the see of Toledo’s primatial authority in all Spain. Peter Linehan, History and the Historians of Medieval Spain (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993), 268–78. 7. Simon Barton and Richard Fletcher, trans., The World of El Cid: Chronicles of the Spanish Reconquest (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2000), 155–61, 252, 255.

48 James J. Todesca 8. For denarii assigned to Alfonso VII, Urraca, and Alfonso VI, see Aloïss Heiss, Descripción general de las monedas hispano-cristianas desde la invasión de los Árabes, vol. 1 (l865; repr., Madrid: J.R. Cayon, 1975), plates 1–3; Estaban Collantes Vidal, “Intento de ordenación de las acuñaciones de Alfonso VII,” Acta Numismática 2 (1972): 167–214. Cf. MEC, 235–49. 9. For the boys as kings in 1142, see Documentación . . . Burgos, 1:217–18, no. 126. According to Reilly, documents showing Sancho acting in his own name directly after his mother’s death in 1149 are unreliable. With his knighting at Valladolid in February of 1152, he was entrusted with La Rioja and parts of Castile. Ferdinand is cited in private documents as ruling in Galicia and León from May 1153. A single charter issued by Ferdinand in July 1155 indicates he by then possessed “real jurisdiction,” though he was not knighted until that Christmas. Reilly, Alfonso VII, 105, 116, 119, 127–28; cf. González, Alfonso VIII, 1:141–42; 2:12–13, no. 3, 2:6–18, no. 6; Julio González, Regesta de Fernando II (Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1943), 345. 10. Reilly, Alfonso VII, 134. Peter Linehan, “Spain in the Twelfth Century,” in The New Cambridge Medieval History, eds. D. Luscombe and J. Riley-Smith, vol. 4, part 2 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 489, argues that Alfonso intended Sancho to take Castile as it “comprised the family’s patrimonial lands.” 11. González, Fernando II, 241–43, no. 1; González, Alfonso VIII, 2:79–82, no. 44; Linehan, Partible Inheritance, 8–10. 12. Heiss, Descripción, 27–28, plate 4, nos. 1–3; MEC, 275. On the same day of the Sahagún treaty, Sancho granted a fuero to the towns Baró and San Martín. The charter calls him “king in Toledo and all Castile.” But his other diplomas issued in the year between his father’s death and his own most often refer to him simply as son of the emperor. On July 13, 1158, as he approached the anniversary of his father’s death, he appears as “Hispaniarum rex.” Unlike his coinage, his charters do not emphasize Toledo. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:58–91, nos. 30–50. 13. Alfonso VIII’s mother, Blanca, died in August 1156, Alfonso VII in August 1157, and Sancho III in August 1158, an indication, perhaps, of the dangers of summer’s heat. Reilly, Alfonso VII, 130, 134; González, Alfonso VIII, 1:147; 2:48–50, no. 25. 14. Julio Porres Martín-Cleto, ed., Los Anales Toledanos I–II (Toledo: Diputación Provincial de Toledo, 1993), 138 (hereafter AT). 15. The charter states that money should be struck in Palencia “sicuti quondam fieri solebat,” implying the mint had been inactive. Teresa Abajo Martín, ed., Documentación de la catedral de Palencia (1035–1247) (Burgos: Ediciones J.M. Garrido Garrido, 1986), 132–34, no. 63. 16. “Ego Fernandus, Dei gratia Hyspaniarum rex, simul cum nepote meo, rege Aldefonso, quem usque ad quatuordecim annos in tutela mea habeo, comunicato prius consilio . . . concedo.” Abajo Martín, Documentación . . . Palencia, 132–34, no. 63; cf. 134–35, no. 64. All eight Castilian bishops are present together with nine of their Leonese brethren. Pedro Gudesteiz signs as both bishop of Mondoñedo and bishopelect of Compostela, leaving only the bishops of Tuy and Ciudad Rodrigo absent. But Isidoro of Tuy may have defected to Portugal and the see of Ciudad Rodrigo, a new creation of Ferdinand II, may well have been vacant. José Manuel Cerda, “ ‘Cum consilio et deliberatione episcoporum, comitum et baronum nostrorum’: Institutional Consultation and Cooperative Governance in the Spanish Kingdoms and England

Selling Castile 49 (1100–1188),” in Separation of Powers and Parliamentarianism, ed. Waclaw Uruszczak (Warsaw: Sejm Publishing, 2007), 268; Richard Fletcher, The Episcopate in the Kingdom of León in the Twelfth Century (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1978), 35–36, 51–52, 58–59, 63–64. 17. England provides a good example of this trend. After the anarchy, when Stephen’s (1135–1154) and Matilda’s supporters struck many types, Henry II (1154–1189) issued only two. His cross-and-crosslets denarius circulated from 1158 to c. 1180 when he then changed to the short cross. The short cross remained unchanged, or immobilized, through the reigns of Richard (1189–1199) and John (1199–1216), continuing to read HENRICVS REX. The type was finally retired by Henry III (1216–1272) in 1247 after a sixty-seven–year run. See Gilbert M. Stack, “English Mint Administration, Moneyers and Monetary Reform in the Reign of Henry II, 1154–1189” (PhD diss., Fordham University, 2004), 88, 125, 160. 18. James J. Todesca, “The Crown Renewed: The Administration of Coinage in León-Castile c.1085–1200,” in The Emergence of León-Castile c.1065–1500: Essays Presented to J.F. O’Callaghan, ed. James J. Todesca (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2015), 25–27. 19. The annulets served as “privy” marks, perhaps identifying individual minters. At least five varieties of the type are known. Heiss, Descripción, plate 4, nos. 2–3; Arturo Pedrals y Moliné, ed., Catálogo de la colección de monedas y medallas de Manuel Vidal Quadras y Ramón de Barcelona, vol. 2 (Barcelona: A. López Robert, l892), nos. 5345–47; James J. Todesca, “What Touches All: Coinage and Monetary Policy in León-Castile to 1230” (PhD. diss., Fordham University, 1996), 506–7; MEC, 276–77. 20. Heiss, Descripción, plate 4, no. 4; Estaban Collantes Vidal, “Monedas de Alfonso VIII y sus problemas,” Acta Numismática 3 (1973): 116–17. 21. Alvaro Campaner and Arturo Pedrals y Moliné seem to have seen the coin in the Vidal Quadras y Ramón collection; both reported it measured fourteen millimeters across. Pedrals thus labeled it an obolum or half denarius. See Pedrals, Catálogo, no. 5359; Alvaro Campaner, “Conjecture sur une monnaie de l’epoque de Alphonse VIII de Castille,” Revue Numismatique,n.s., 9 (1864): 141–47; Heiss, Descripción, plate 4, no. 7. Collantes, “Monedas de Alfonso VIII,” 117–18, no. 6, published a second impronta of the type said to come from the collection of the Instituto Valencia de Don Juan. He judged it to be a denarius. It is not clear if the Instituto possesses (or possessed) an actual example of the coin. As recently as 2006, Maribel Fierro was denied access to the Instituto’s collection. Maribel Fierro, “Coins of the Almohad Era” in The Almohad Revolution, ed. Maribel Fierro (Farnham: Ashgate, 2012), 1–2, no. 6. Collantes implied that other examples of this rare coin were known to collectors. See also, MEC, 277–78. 22. Era dating, standard in the diplomas of León-Castile, begins thirty-eight years prior to the year of the Incarnation. 23. Robert A. Levinson, The Early Dated Coins of Europe, 1234–1500 (Clifton: Coin and Currency Institute, 2007), 9. 24. Peter Linehan, “The Synod of Segovia (1166),” BMCL 10 (1980): 34, 42; Linehan, History and the Historians, 281–82. 25. Linehan, “Synod,” 34–35, 42. 26. AT, 139–41; González, Alfonso VIII, 2:141–43 no. 83; José Manuel Cerda, “The Assemblies of Alfonso VIII of Castile: Burgos (1169) to Carrion (1188),” JMIS 3 (2011): 68.

50 James J. Todesca 27. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:143–44, no. 84. 28. Linehan, Historians, 268, 280. Juan is last cited at court in two royal charters dated September 29th. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:150–54, nos. 88–89; see also 154–67, nos. 90–96; cf. AT, 141. 29. Linehan, Partible Inheritance, 31. Rodrigo Ximénez de Rada, archbishop of Toledo c. 1210–1247, makes no mention of the events of 1166 in composing his history in the 1240s. Linehan, Historians, 281, sees the omission as an indication of Rodrigo’s imperfect knowledge of the recent past. 30. González, Alfonso VIII, 1:142, 180; 2:211–16, nos. 124–26. 31. For the delegation of 1169, see José Manuel Cerda, “The Marriage of Alfonso VIII of Castile and Leonor Plantagenet: The First Bond between Spain and England in the Middle Ages,” in Les stratégies matrimoniales (IXe–XIIIe siècle), ed. Martin Aurell (Turnhout: Brepols, 2013), 144. Leonor appears in the Castilian charters beginning September 1170. A charter listing her as queen in April 1169 is misdated. See González, Alfonso VIII, 2:195–96, no. 114; cf. 2:253–54, no. 148. According to Robert of Torigni, the princess was sent to Spain in 1170 “et ab Amfurso . . . sollemiter desponsta.” Richard Howlett, ed., Chronicles of the Reigns of Stephen, Henry II and Richard I (1882; repr. Lessing-Druckerei: Wiesbaden, 1964), 4:247. The couple does not appear to have married until 1176. W. L. Warren, Henry II (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1973), 117, 222. 32. This equestrian type resembles another issue that invokes León. The latter is traditionally attributed to Alfonso VII. See Heiss, Descripción, 29 and plate 2, no. 9. On riding styles, see Noel Fallows, “Against the Arabs: Propaganda and Paradox in Medieval Castile” in Medieval Iberia: Changing Societies and Cultures in Contact and Transition, ed. Ivy A. Corfis and Ray Harris Northall (Woodbridge: Boydell and Brewer, 2007), 58. 33. Collantes’s illustration of the crescent mark is not clear. Pedrals had earlier reported a cup which is perhaps the same as Collantes’s crescent. Collantes, “Monedas de Alfonso VIII,” 118–19. His no. 12 has O under belly; cf. Pedrals, Catálogo, no. 5357. No. 15 shows E under muzzle. No. 13 has star under muzzle as does Pedrals, Catálogo, no. 5358; Heiss, Descripción, plate 4, no. 9, shows star under belly. Collantes no. 17 is said to have a crescent; cf. Pedrals, Catálogo, no. 5356. Another equestrian coin (Heiss, Descripción, plate 4, no. 10) reads ANFVS RE on the obverse and TOLE on the reverse under the horse but should be considered a separate issue. It does, however, have a crescent on the obverse. 34. The coin in Figure 6 lacks the lines coming off the rider’s right arm, what Collantes, “Monedas de Alfonso VIII,” 119, described as a “clámide al viento,” but this absence may simply be from poor die engraving. The coin clearly belongs to the same issue. 35. Todesca, “Crown Renewed,” 23–27. 36. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:211–13, no. 124. 37. Alfonso VIII confirmed the bishop of Segovia’s right to a fourth of mint revenues in 1161 according to later copies of the act. He confirmed Toledo’s right to a tenth of moneta in 1184. Regarding Burgos, Alfonso VII had allowed the bishop there a tenth of moneta in 1128. I know of no diploma showing that Alfonso VIII confirmed that right, but numismatic evidence from later in his reign shows Burgos remained an active

Selling Castile 51 mint. Luis Miguel Villar Garcia, ed., Documentacíon medieval de la catedral de Segovia (1115–1300) (Salamanca: Ediciones Universidad de Salamanca, 1990), 109–10, no. 62; González, Alfonso VIII, 2:734–36, no. 425; Documentación . . . Burgos, 192–94, no. 109; cf. Todesca, “Crown Renewed,” 284–90. 38. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:232–35, no. 136. A document purporting to be an act of Alfonso VII dated to c. 1138 grants these same revenues to Sigüenza but appears to be copied, with one tell-tale mistake, from Alfonso VIII’s charter (which survives as an original). See Todesca, “What Touches All,” 373–76: cf. Reilly, Alfonso VII, 347, nos. 320–21. Hilda Grassotti, “El pueblo y la moneda real en León y Castilla durante el siglo XII,” Cuadernos de Historia de España 49–50 (1969): 167–69, argued that the Sigüenza references represent an early example of the moneda forera or monetary conservation tax, but there is little to support that this levy yet existed in Castile or León, though it would emerge shortly. See Carlos Estepa Díez, “La construcción de la fiscalidad real,” in Poder real y sociedad: Estudios sobre el reinado de Alfonso VIII (1158–1214), ed. Carlos Estepa Díez, Ignacio Álvarez Borge, and José Maria Santamaria Luengos (León: Universidad de León, 2011), 74–76. 39. Luis Domingo Figuerola, “Privilegios otorgados por Alfonso VIII relacionados con las cecas del reino de Castilla y las acuñaciones de la campaña de las Navas de Tolosa,” Acta Numismática 7 (1977): 215–16; Jean Gautier Dalché, Historia urbana de León y Castilla en la Edad Media (siglos ix–xiii) (Madrid: Siglo Veintiuno, 1989), 99–107. Sigüenza did count itself among the towns of Extremadura in the hermandad formed August 3, 1295. Luis G. de Valdeavellano, “Carta de hermandad entre los concejos de la extremadura castellana y del arzobispado de Toledo en 1295,” Revista portuguesa de história 12 (1969): 69–76. 40. “Presam illam in Dorio que est subtus maiorem pontem . . . integram ex utraque fluminis parte, cum azeniis et molendinis et solaribus et omnibus suis pertinenciis; et decimam de omni portatico et de omni labore regio, et de pectis et quintis, et fossaderiis, et de omni redditu regio, et de moneta, et de balneis.” González, Alfonso VIII, 2:347–49, no. 211; cf. Juan Loperráez Corvalán, Descripción histórica del obispado de Osma, 3 vols. (1788; repr. Madrid: Ediciones Turner, 1978), 3:36–38, no. 27. 41. A putative charter of Sancho III dated 1154, three years before Alfonso VII’s death, is almost identical to the 1174 grant of Alfonso VIII. Both Loperráez and González accepted it as an original (Loperráez, 3:32–34, no. 25; González, Alfonso VIII, 2:25–28, no. 12.) Reilly, Alfonso VII, 386, no. 817, however, expressed doubt. I am inclined to believe the 1154 grant attributed to Sancho is a forgery based on the grant of 1174. Firstly, the Sancho grant emphasizes that it is a confirmation of rights and properties granted by Emperor Alfonso VII. Alfonso VIII’s grant does not contain these lines, which seems an odd omission. Secondly, both grants list “Sotos de Oxoma” as one of the bishop’s possessions. But according to a third document, Alfonso VII gave the “Villam de Soto . . . que est sita inter Oxoma, et Ucero” to Osma in 1157. The 1154 grant then should not list it. (Loperráez, 335–36, no. 26; Reilly, Alfonso VII, 398, no. 967, found this charter of 1157 suspect as well). Finally, after listing the village of Gomara, the 1154 grant abruptly adds “and the houses which are in front of the church of San Pedro of Soria.” The line is clearly out of place and does not appear at all in the 1174 grant. On balance, the 1154 grant seems an improved-upon version of the 1174 document. To add to the confusion of these early Sigüenza documents, González, in his edition of the 1154

52 James J. Todesca text, inadvertently omitted a line so that his text reads “ecclesiam illam in Duero.” The Loperráez text reads correctly. 42. “[T]erciam partem integram de omnibus regalibus Avile redditibus . . . de monetis.” González, Alfonso VIII, 2:400–1, no. 241. Alfonso VII had previously granted the see of Ávila portions of royal revenue, but those acts do not mention moneta. See Ángel Barrios García, ed., Documentación medieval de la catedral de Ávila (Salamanca: Universidad de Salamanca, 1981), 4–7, nos. 4–5; Ángel Barrios García, La catedral de Ávila en la edad media: Estructura socio-jurídica y económica (Ávila: Obra Social y Cultural de la Caja de Ahorras y Prestamos de Ávila, 1973), 101–2. 43. It is possible that Ávila’s mint was transferred to the frontier town of Plasencia in 1187. According to a royal grant of that year, the bishop of Ávila was entitled to a third of all royal revenues in Plasencia including “de monetis.” González, Alfonso VIII, 2:795–97, no. 464. If the charter is reliable, the situation is analogous to the bishop of Osma having rights to the mint of Soria. On the other hand, the Plasencia grant is almost a verbatim copy of the grant of the royal third to Ávila in 1176 and “de monetis” may have been inadvertently included. Plasencia appears to have received its own bishop by 1207, but there is no reliable sign of minting there in the thirteenth century. González, Alfonso VIII, 3:423–24, no. 812; Bernard F. Reilly, “Alfonso VIII, the Castilian Episcopate, and the Accession of Rodrigo Jiménez de Rada as Archbishop of Toledo in 1210,” The Catholic Historical Review 99 (2013): 442. 44. “Decimam omnium monetarum quamcumque regum arbitrio in episcopio tuo in sempiternum fabricate fuerint.” Ildefonso Rodríguez de Lama, ed., Colección diplomática medieval de la Rioja, 4 vols. (Logroño: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Cientifcas, 1979), 3:17–18, no. 240; cf. the slightly different reading in González, Alfonso VIII, 2:235–36, no. 137. 45. Linehan, Historians, 290. 46. The charter of June 18, 1180 is addressed to all the clergy of the realm. The bishops of Calahora, Burgos, Palencia, and Ávila appear as witnesses. In July, Alfonso addressed separate charters to the bishops of Sigüenza and Osma repeating the promise. Charters were issued to Palencia in November, to Segovia in December, and to Burgos the following May. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:582–84, no. 344; 2:589–91, no. 348; 2:595–98, no. 351; 2:599–601, no. 353; 2:635–38, no. 368. See also Claudio Sánchez-Albornoz, “Notas para el estudio del ‘petitum,’” in Estudios sobre las instituciones medievales españolas (Mexico: Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, 1965), 511; Linehan, Historians, 310–11. 47. Carolina Carl, A Bishopric Between Three Kingdoms: Calahorra, 1045–1190 (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 191. 48. James F. Powers, “The Early Reconquest Episcopate at Cuenca, 1177–1284,” The Catholic Historical Review 87 (2001): 8; Julio González, “Repoblación de las tierras de Cuenca,” Anuario de Estudios Medievales 12 (1982): 193–94; González, Alfonso VIII, 2:797–800, nos. 465–66. 49. “Exceptis petitonibus et fonsaderiis.” González, Alfonso VIII, 3:147–49, no. 647; Sánchez-Albornoz, “Notas,” 514; Estepa Díez, “La construcción,” 71–72. For Cuenca’s cathedral, see González, “Repoblación,” n. 39. 50. Pedrals, Catálogo, no. 5356, reported an equestrian coin in the Vidal collection with a “cáliz” or cup but did not illustrate it. More than likely it was what Collantes saw

Selling Castile 53 as a crescent. Anna Balaguer in MEC, 280–81, however, takes Pedral’s “cup” as evidence for minting at Cuenca and therefore concludes the equestrian issue was struck into the 1180s. She also asserts that a C and P mark exist for the equestrian issue but offers no evidence. The cup of Cuenca does emerge as mint mark in the late thirteenth century. See Todesca, “What Touches All,” 385–87; Domingo, “Privilegios,” 215. 51. González, Alfonso VIII, 3:77–79, no. 606. 52. On later Almoravid dinars, “al-Abbasi” appears as the fifth line, seemingly a more explicit reference to the Abbasids. Francisco Codera y Zaidin, Tratado de numismática arábigo-española (Madrid: M. Murillo, 1879), 192–93, 197, no. 4, 203, no. 1; José Maria de Francisco Olmos, “El maravedí de oro de Alfonso VIII: Un mensaje cristiano escrito en árabe,” Revista General de Información y Documentación 8 (1998): 287; Hanna E. Kassis, “The Coinage of Muhammad Ibn Sa’d (Ibn Mardanish) of Mursiya: An Attempt at Iberian Islamic Autonomy,” in Problems of Medieval Coinage in the Iberian Area III, ed. Mário Gomes Marques and D. M. Metcalf (Santarém: Sociedade Numismática Scalabitana, 1988), 214. 53. Olmos, “El maravedí de oro de Alfonso VIII,” 294; cf. MEC, 288. 54. Anna M. Balaguer, Del mancús a la dobla: Or i paries d’Hispània (Barcelona: Asociación Numismática Española, 1993), 150–55, nos. 23–48, catalogued all specimens known to her including one where she read the date as “Era 1211” or 1173. Collantes, “Monedas de Alfonso VIII,” 117–19, also attests to an 1173 date. Adolfo Cayón, Clemente Cayón and Juan Cayón, Las monedas españolas: Del tremís al euro (Madrid: J. Cayón, 1998), 210, do not report specimens for 1173. These authors do, however, include nine years not known to Balaguer. According to Ángel González Palencia, Los mozárabes de Toledo en los siglos XII y XIII, 4 vols. (Madrid: Instituto de Valencia de Don Juan, 1926–1930), 1:73–77, nos. 103–8, Arabic texts from Toledo refer to alphonsine gold throughout 1173. 55. D. M. Metcalf, “How Large was the Anglo-Saxon Currency?,” The Economic History Review, n.s., 18 (1965): 477, argues that an upper die wears out more quickly but still should produce 10,000 coins. 56. No hoards of morabetinos alfonsinos survive that might allow numismatists to identify different obverse dies with the same year. Anna M. Balaguer, “El maravedí alfonsí: Su difusión entre los estados cristianos de la península ibérica (siglos xii–xiii),” in Homenagem a Mário Gomes Marques, ed. M. Castro Hipólito (Sintra: Instituto de Sintra, 2000), 296. 57. The trays of the American Numismatic Society formerly contained five of these copper pieces. They weighed 2.73 (damaged), 3.49, 3.49 3.19 and 3.40 grams. Felipe Mateu y Llopis, ed., Catálogo de los ponderales monetarios del Museo Arquelógico Nacional (Madrid: Cuerpo Facultativo de Archiveros, Bibliotecarios y Arquéologos, 1934), 26–30, pointed out that the obverse on the copper piece has one more line than the actual morabetino. That line seems to be the Arabic word ‘adl which in this context could mean just or exact. The term appears frequently on Islamic weights. Tawfíq Ibrahim, “Ponderales andalusíes,” Numisma 233 (1993), 41, 48–52, 65. Collantes, “Monedas de Alfonso VIII,” 114, suggested the pieces were copper coins (felúses), but there is no documentary evidence indicating copper money circulated in Castile. 58. See “Piefort” in MEC, 570. The strongest evidence that these copper morabetinos were piedforts and not weights is that similar coppers were issued for Alfonso’s later

54 James J. Todesca denarius, the burgalés. The weights of these copper pieces vary widely and have no obvious correlation to the ideal weight of the burgalés. Mateu y Llopis, Catálogo, 24; Todesca, “What Touches All,” 512. 59. Balaguer, “El maravedí,” 280–96. See also the comments of Ayala Martínez and Smith in the current volume concerning the significance of the minting of the new coin in royal thought and papal-monarchic relations. 60. González Palencia, Los mozárabes, 2:477–78, nos. 475–76. 61. “Por lxx.ii moravedis alfonsis de buen oro del cuyno nuevo e de dreyto peso.” Antonio Ubieto Arteta, “Documentos para el estudio de la numismática navarroaragonesa medieval (tercera serie),” Caesaraugusta: Publicaciones del Seminario de Arqueología y Numismática Aragonesa 5 (1954): 158–59, no. 50. 62. The counterfeiting in Tarazona, which James describes as “notorious,” involved the forging of “gold coins, of ours and of the King of Castile” as well as some Castilian denarii (burgaleses). By his gold coin, James meant imitation mazmudinas or mazmudinas contrafactas. But the scandal over the morabetino clearly seemed the most serious. Damian Smith and Helena Buffery, trans., The Book of Deeds of James I of Aragon (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2003), 329–32; Balaguer, “El maravedí alfonsí,” 275–79; Mateu y Llopis, “Morabetinos,” 190. 63. Cortes de los antiguos reinos de León y Castilla, 5 vols. (Madrid: Real Academia de la Historia, 1861–1903), 1:64. By 1272, Alfonso X had experimented with a slightly heavier gold piece modeled on the Almohad double dinar. MEC, 307–8. For Italian gold, see Peter Spufford, Money and Its Use in Medieval Europe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 176–77. 64. Andrew W. Ehrenkreutz, “Arabic Dinars Struck by the Crusaders: A Case of Ignorance or of Economic Subversion,” Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 7 (1964): 170–73; Andrew W. Ehrenkreutz, “Studies in the Monetary History of the Near East in the Middle Ages: The Standard of Fineness of Some Types of Dinars,” Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 2 (1959): 144–45, 154. 65. These imitations may have started by 1120 though there is no explicit reference to them in Latin documents until the 1140s. See Ehrenkreutz, “Arabic Dinars,” 175–80; Henry L. Misbach, “Genoese Commerce and the Alleged Flow of Gold to the East, 1154–1253,” Revue Internationale d’Histoire de la Banque 3 (1970): 75; D. M. Metcalf, Coinage of the Crusades and the Latin East in the Ashmolean Museum Oxford, 2nd ed. (London: Royal Numismatic Society, 1995), 43–51; Jonathan Phillips, The Crusades, 1095–1197 (Harlow: Longman, 2002), 31–33. 66. Shelomo Dov Goitein, A Mediterranean Society: The Jewish Communities of the Arab World as Portrayed in the Documents of the Cairo Geniza, 5 vols. (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1967), 1:235. 67. Aghmatis refers to morabetinos struck in Aghmat in North Africa. By “quarters” the merchant may mean tari from Sicily. Goitein, Mediterranean Society, 1:235–36; Ronald A. Messier, “The Almoravids, West African Gold and the Gold Currency of the Mediterranean Basin,” Journal of Economic and Social History of the Orient 17 (1974), 45. 68. Hanna E. Kassis, “Les taifas almoravides,” in II jarique de estudios numismáticos hispano-árabes, ed. Juan Ignacio Sáenz-Díez and María Soler i Balagueró (Lerida: Institut d’Estudis Ilerdencs de la Diputació de Lleida, 1990), 52–53. 69. Maria Bibolini, ed., I Libri Iurium della Republica di Genova, vol. 1/6 (Genoa: Società Ligure di Storia Patria, 2000), 3–6, no. 932. Alfonso also promised to send

Selling Castile 55 an additional 10,000 morabetinos to the Genoese envoys arriving in Barcelona. The Chronicle of the Emperor Alfonso seems to exaggerate when it reports Alfonso paid the Genoese 30,000 morabetinos. Barton and Fletcher, World of El Cid, 248. 70. Martin Hall and Jonathan Phillips, trans., Caffaro, Genoa and the Twelfth Century Crusades (Farnham: Ashgate, 2013), 180, suggest visifino may mean “of pure gold.” An agreement of 1164 allowed Barisone of Sardinia to render payment to Genoa in “marini, melechini or barbarugi.” Giouvanni Pesce and Giuseppe Felloni, Le monete genovesi (Genoa: Stringa, 1975), 343, no. 5. Marinos are cited frequently in the Mozarabic documents of Toledo though they give way to morabetinos from Baeza. González Palencia, Los mozárabes, 119–73, nos. 27–102. For Almoravid mints in Spain, see Messier, “The Almoravids,” 46–47; For Baeza, see Kassis, “Les taifas,” 64–65, 73. See also Todesca, “What Touches All,” 259. 71. Reilly, Alfonso VII, 99. Bernard F. Reilly, The Contest of Christian and Muslim Spain, 1031–1157 (Oxford: Blackwell, 1992), 221, n. 11, says Ibn Mardanīsh first appears as vassal in a charter of 1156, but does not give the source. González, “Repoblación,” 184, cites a charter of 1149 alluding to an alliance between Alfonso VII and el Rey Lobo but that document now seems lost. Cf. Reilly, Alfonso VII, 369, no. 604. Ibn Mardanīsh does appear as vassal of Alfonso VIII in González, Alfonso VIII, 2:94–95, no. 52. See further, Hugh Kennedy, Muslim Spain and Portugal (Harlow: Longman, 1996), 194–95. 72. According to Kassis, “The Coinage,” 211–12, Ibn al-Khatib reported in the fourteenth century that Ibn Mardanīsh agreed to pay Ramon Berenguer 100,000 dinars over four years. Reilly twice writes that Ibn Mardanīsh agreed to pay 100,000 annually, which is exorbitant. He, however, only cites Ibn Mardanīsh’ s treaties with Pisa and Genoa of 1149, neither of which mentions Ramon Berenguer. Reilly, The Contest, 218; Reilly, Alfonso VII, 108. Joseph F. O’Callaghan, Reconquest and Crusade in Medieval Spain (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2003), 47, repeats the 100,000 dinars per annum figure, again only citing the Pisan and Genoese treaties. In 1170, Alfonso VIII agreed that Alfonso II (1162–1196) of Aragon was owed the following: “[Q]uod Lupum regem Murcie vobis talem habeas, quod a kalendis Ianuarii primis venientibus usque ad V annos et ulterius, quamdiu cum ipso potueritis convenire, firmabit et dabit vobis per singulos annos integre ipsum aver quod patri vestro, bone memorie comiti Barchinone, dare solebat, scilicit, XL millia morabetinos maiores in auro, statutis terminis inter ipsum regem et memoratum comitem, vel minus, si tunc minus dare debebat quando postremo ipse comes iuit Provinciam.” González, Alfonso VIII, 2:239–42, no. 140. For the Genoan treaty, see Hall and Phillips, Caffaro, 190–91, no. 9. For Pisa, see Michele Amari, ed., I diplomi arabi del R. Archivio Fiorentino (Florence: Felice le Monnier, 1863), 239–40, no. 1. 73. Ibn Mardanīsh’s predecessor in eastern al-Andalus was Ibn Iyad, who died in 1147. His morabetino ayadino along with the lupino are much cited in Aragonese documentation. See María Isabel Ubieto Artur, “Los morabedís ayadinos, circulación y cambio en el reino de Aragón según la documentación coetánea,” Numisma 34 (1984): 209–25. Both the ayadino and lupino maintained a standard close to 3.90 grams, at least until Ibn Mardanīsh’s final years. Kassis, “Les taifas,” 73–81. 74. He paid a small portion, less than 2,000 morabetinos in silk. He also allowed Genoa trading privileges in Denia and Valencia. Hall and Phillips, Caffaro, 190–91, no. 9; Olivia R. Constable, “Genoa and Spain in the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries:

56 James J. Todesca Notarial Evidence for a Shift in Patterns of Trade,” Journal of European Economic History 19 (1990): 640–41; O’Callaghan, Reconquest, 44–46. 75. “Pro precio, videlicet, xvi milium et xl morabetinorum, Marrochinorum, Marinorum, Aiadinoroum, Lupinorum, Melechinorum, qui quotcumque ibi sint mixtim, ad pensum de Lupinis reddantur.” Francisco M. Rosell, ed., Liber feudorum maior: Cartulario real que se conserva en el Archívo de la Corona de Aragón, 2 vols. (Barcelona: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1945) 1:485–87, no. 463. For the morabetino ayadino of Ibn Iyad, see above n. 74. 76. Luigi T. Belgrano, ed., Annali genovesi di Caffaro e de’ suoi continuatori, 5 vols. (Rome: Istituto Storico Italiano, 1890), 1:61–62; Constable, “Genoa,” 641. 77. Belgrano, Annali genovesi, 1:61–62; Hilmar C. Krueger, “Genoese Trade with Northwest Africa in the Twelfth Century,” Speculum 8 (1933): 379. 78. A shortage of gold does not seem to have been the reason for the Almohad weight reduction. Hazard concluded that Almohad gold production did not drop off until the early thirteenth century. Harry W. Hazard, The Numismatic History of Late Medieval North Africa (New York: The American Numismatic Society, 1952), 48, 66–68. Ronald A. Messier, “Quantitative Analysis of Almoravid Dinars,” Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 23 (1980): 113–14, however, concludes that Almohad gold production was “generally lower” than the Almoravid output. Fierro, “Coins of the Almohad Era,” 15–17, agrees with Hazard that the Almohad weight reduction signaled a break with the past. 79. Felipe Mateu y Llopis, “Morabetinos in auro y mazmudinas iucefias durante Alfonso el Casto, Pedro el Católico y Jaime de Aragón (1162–1276),” in I Jarique de estudios numismáticos hispano-árabes, ed. Juan Ignacio Sáenz-Díez (Zaragoza: Institución Fernando el Catolico, 1988), 187. 80. “Biscancios .ccc. messemutinos apud Septem usque proximum natale sana enunte illuc navi ipsius Tanti.” Mario Chiaudano and Mattia Moresco, eds., Il Cartolare di Giovanni Scriba, 2 vols. (Turin: S. Lattes & C. Editori, 1935), 2:51, no. 910 (hereafter Giovanni Scriba); Hilmar C. Krueger, “The Wares of Exchange in the Genoese-African Traffic of the Twelfth Century,” Speculum 12 (1937): 63–64. 81. Constable, “Genoa,” 650–52; Quentin Van Doosselaere, Commercial Agreements and Social Dynamics in Medieval Genoa (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 70. 82. “In comandacione marabotinos. XX. et quarta ad pensum et libras. VIIII. safrani et coralli centenarium. I. et libras. V., que omnia ad tuum resicum debeo portare Alexandriam et inde quo ivero.” Giovanni Scriba, 1:56, no. 105. 83. “In comendacionem . . . .XXXX. sete minus unciis. V. et marabutinos. XXVI. minus quator carrubis que pro eo Alexandraim portat.” Giovanni Scriba, 2:39, no. 882; Steven A. Epstein, Genoa and the Genoese, 958–1528 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1996), 58. 84. “Pro conducto debeo inde habere. xii. marabetinos tales quales per Ispaniam dantur.” Giovanni Scriba, 1:37, no. 69. 85. Giovanni Scriba, 1:37, no. 69. 86. “Bisancios marabotinos. L. de primis bisanciis quas habebo.” Mario Chiaudano, ed., Oberto Scriba de Mercato (1186) (Turin: Editrice Libraria Italiana, 1940), 25–26, no. 66.

Selling Castile 57 87. Kassis, “Les taifas,” 81–82; Kassis, “The Coinage,” 216–19. For the tribute to Aragon, see my n. 72. 88. The compatibility of the morabetino and Fatimid dinar can be seen in two hoards from Southern France. One found probably near Saint-Romain-D’Albon, north of Marseilles, was said to contain 50 “Arab” gold coins. M. Adrien de Longpérier examined three of the coins and identified two as morabetinos and the third as being from Alexandria. All were from the early twelfth century. See Longpérier, “Découvertes et Nouvelles,” Revue Archéologique 2, no. 1 (1845) : 182. The second from near Perpignan appears to be a long-term savings hoard. It contained ten Fatimid dinars (one dating to as early as 965) alongside 65 morabetinos. Jean Duplessey, “La circulation des monnaies arabes en Europe occidentale du VIIIe au XIIIe siècle,” Revue Numismatique, 5th ser., 18 (1956): 128–29, no. 26 and no. 28. 89. David Abulafia, The Two Italies: Economic Relations between the Norman Kingdom of Sicily and the Northern Communes (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1977), 73; Van Doosselaere, Commercial Agreements, 20–21; Constable, “Genoa,” 643–45. 90. “Et de quibus suis lib. .c. sunt prestite Anslemso Garrio ad rationem bis. .iiii 1/2. auri per libram.” Margaret W. Hall, Hilmar C. Krueger, and Robert L. Reynolds, eds, Guglielmo Cassinese, 2 vols. (Torino, 1938), 2:183–84, no. 1573; cf. 1:88–89, no. 218; 2:36–37, no. 1197 and no. 1199. See further, Olivia R. Constable, Trade and Traders in Muslim Spain (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 98–105. 91. Misbach, “Genoese Commerce,” 80; Messier, “The Almoravids,” 33. 92. Paul Fabre, ed., Le Liber censum de l’eglise romaine, fascicule 2 (Paris: Bibliothèque des Écoles Française d’Athènes et de Rome, 1889), 215, https://archive.org/ details/lelibercensuumde02fabruoft. I. S. Robinson, The Papacy, 1073–1198 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 260. San Juan of Ripoll is better known today as Sant Joan de les Abadesses. See Jaime Villanueva, Viage literario a las iglesias de España, 22 vols. (Valencia: Imprenta de Olivares, 1821), 8:61–65. 93. Francisco J. Hernández, ed., Los Cartularios de Toledo (Madrid: Fundación Ramon Areces, 1985), 208–9, nos. 223–24. 94. See the discussion in Pesce, Le monete, 342, no. 2. 95. Misbach, “Genoese Commerce,” 67–84. For persistence of the theory that “gold moved eastward,” see Constable, Trade, 166. 96. Ambrosio Huici Miranda and María Desamparados Cabanes Pecourt, eds, Documentos de Jaime I de Aragón, 5 vols. (Valencia and Zaragoza: Anubar, 1976–1988), 2:258–62, nos. 458–59; Thomas N. Bisson, The Medieval Crown of Aragon (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1986), 64–66. For mazmudinas contrafactas, see my n. 62. 97. In 1257, based on mill revenues in Valencia, James granted “quinque morabetinos censuales, bonos in auro, curribiles, alfonsinos, rectos et recti ponderis” to Berenguela of Vic, but recognized she could collect the annual payment as “eorum estimacionem sicut valuerint quolibet anno . . . in tabulis c(ampsorum).” Robert I. Burns, Diplomatarium regni Valentiae, vol. 2, Foundations of Crusader Valencia: Revolt and Recovery, 1257–1263 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991), 53–55, no. 61; cf. Huici Miranda, Documentos de Jaime I, 3:336, no. 898, which reads “voluerint.” 98. In Barcelona in 1158, James settled a debt of 200 “morabetinos alfonssinos bonos in auro” by paying in “presenti monete Barchinone.” Huici Miranda, Documentos de Jaime I de Aragón, 4:121, no. 1029. See further, Balaguer, “El maravedí,” 280–91.

58 James J. Todesca 99. Alexandre Teulet, Jean Laborde, eds., Layettes du Trésor des Chartes, 5 vols. (Paris: H. Plon, 1863–1909), 3:114, no. 3911. See also Duplessey, “La circulation,” 141–41, no. 38; William C. Jordan, Louis IX and the Challenge of the Crusade (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1979), 100–1. 100. Duplessey, “La circulation,” 143–44, no. 45. 101. The morabetinos of León and Portugal are illustrated in James J. Todesca, “Means of Exchange: Islamic Coinage in Christian Spain, 1000–1200,” in Iberia and the Mediterranean World of the Middle Ages: Studies in Honor of Robert I. Burns, ed. L. J. Simon, 2 vols. (Leiden: Brill, 1995), 1:239–41. 102. Portugaliae monumenta historica; Leges et consuetudines, vol. 1 (1856; repr., Nendeln: Kraus, 1967), 191–96, no. 3. 103. Francisco J. Hernández, “Las cortes de Toledo de 1207,” in Las cortes de Castilla y León en la edad media, 2 vols. (Valladolid: Simancas Ediciones, 1988), 1:240–46. 104. The burgalés used 9 marks: star, crescent, B, A, O, S, C, E, and L. The L may represent the mint at León, after the reunification of the kingdoms in 1230 (Domingo, “Privilegio,” 217, suggested L was Logroño). Copper trial pieces also exist for the issue. Heiss, Descripción, plate 4, nos 15–19; Todesca, “What Touches All,” 511–14; cf. MEC, 281–86, though the breakdown of mint marks does not agree with mine. Two similar issues with a castle as the reverse type (Heiss, Descripción, plate 4, nos. 11–14) perhaps preceded the pepión debasement. 105. Julio González, Alfonso IX, 2 vols. (Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1944), 2:458–62, nos. 350, 352; 2:479, no. 366. 106. James J. Todesca, “Coinage and the Rebellion of Sancho of Castile,” in Mediterranean Studies, Volume IV, ed. Benjamin F. Taggie (Kirksville: Thomas Jefferson University Press, 1994), 31–35. 107. O’Callaghan, Reconquest, 59–64. 108. Estepa Díez, “El reino de Castilla de Alfonso VIII (1158–1214),” 34–35.

Chapter three The Infantazgo in the Reign of Alfonso VIII Janna Bianchini

B

eginning as early as the tenth century, the royal women of León-Castile laid claim to a little-understood share of the crown’s patrimony, known as the Infantazgo. These properties served as economic support for the women who held them, usually sisters, daughters, or wives of the reigning king. The Infantazgo was rarely held by just one woman; it was typically shared among several women of various generations. And its geography was not static. Although some towns and territories are reliably identified with the Infantazgo over time, others were acquired or alienated by the women who held them. In any case, Infantazgo properties were usually a significant source of power and income; their possession appears to be a major factor in the unusual prominence of certain women in the Leonese-Castilian monarchy. One of the best-known of these women is Sancha Raimúndez (c. 1095–1159). Sancha was the daughter of Queen Urraca of León-Castile and her first husband, Count Raymond of Burgundy; she was thus also the full sister of King Alfonso VII of León-Castile. Sancha’s career has received considerable attention because of her obvious importance in her brother’s court. She co-issued and confirmed many of Alfonso VII’s diplomas, while also issuing diplomas of her own—some bearing her brother’s confirmation, some not. And by the end of her life, Sancha held most of the properties then associated with the Infantazgo. This has made her something of a poster child for the power that these properties could convey to a royal woman who arguably had few other means of acquiring it. Yet when Sancha died in 1159, the value of the Infantazgo is generally considered to have disappeared. She was, in the words of Patrick Henriet, “the last great infanta.” What happened to this rich collection of properties after Sancha Raimúndez died? What could have caused the abrupt termination of a practice that had been central to the Leonese-Castilian monarchy since the tenth century? Alternately—as I will argue here—did the Infantazgo not disappear in the 1160s? Did it, instead, survive well into the thirteenth century, until dramatic changes in the kingdom’s axes of power diminished its value and its relevance? Scholars have had good reason to think that the Infantazgo disappeared in the mid-twelfth century. Its properties seem always to have been dispersed among several nuclei throughout León-Castile, with one significant concentration in Asturias and another in the Tierra de Campos, a central region located 59

60 Janna Bianchini roughly between the Cea and Pisuerga Rivers. The Tierra de Campos in particular became a site of royal conflict after 1157, upon the death of King Alfonso VII. The king chose to divide his realm between his sons, granting Castile to one (who now became Sancho III) and León to the other (now Ferdinand II). In the Tierra de Campos, however, the new border between the kingdoms blurred where it encountered the Infantazgo seigniories of Sancha Raimúndez. For the moment, the so-called Infantazgo de Campos was literally a kind of no-man’s-land, not quite within reach of either Sancho or Ferdinand as long as it was ruled by their formidable aunt. The two kings attempted to resolve matters in 1158 with the treaty of Sahagún, which assigned the disputed areas to León but placed them under the direct control of various Castilian and Leonese magnates, who held them as guarantees that the kings would observe the treaty’s other terms. This compromise might have gone some way toward a resolution, were it not for the fact that Sancho III of Castile died a few months later—followed, the next year, by Sancha Raimúndez. The new king of Castile was the three-year-old Alfonso VIII. His father’s death left him orphaned, since his mother, Blanca of Navarre, had died two years earlier. Sancho III tried to arrange his son’s wardship so as to balance the power of Castile’s major noble families, the Castro and the Lara, but without success. Alfonso VIII’s minority was plagued by bitter conflict between the Lara and Castro factions. And in this chaos, Ferdinand II of León saw an opportunity. The Castro sought his support, and Ferdinand II claimed tutelage of his nephew for himself, as Alfonso VIII’s nearest living male relative. He also took advantage of Castile’s weakness to establish control of the disputed part of the Tierra de Campos. Sancha Raimúndez’s death had, in other words, turned the Infantazgo de Campos into hotly contested territory. The maneuvers of both León and Castile to secure control of it might themselves have been enough to end the Infantazgo’s special status as the property of royal women; if a king’s claim to the land was under threat, he might well choose to keep it under his own direct authority rather than cede it to a sister or daughter. And the Infantazgo does appear to have been in the king’s gift; it seems that, generally speaking, its properties reverted to the crown when the infanta holding them died, to be redistributed as the reigning monarch chose. But when Sancha Raimúndez died, it was not at all clear which king had the authority to redistribute her lands in the Tierra de Campos. Nevertheless, once Ferdinand II had consolidated his position vis-àvis Castile, he did exercise the crown’s prerogative regarding Infantazgo lands.

The Queen of Navarre Takes the Infantazgo?: The 1165 Diploma On January 27, 1165, Ferdinand II of León granted all of his kingdom’s Infantazgo properties to his sister, Sancha Alfonso II:

The Infantazgo in the Reign of Alfonso VIII 61 I give to you, my only sister, all the Infantazgo in my entire kingdom, that is, in Toledo and in the whole Transierra, in Extremadura, León, in the Bierzo, in Galicia, and in Asturias: town[s], castles, heredades, monasteries, and everything that belongs to the Infantazgo. You shall have it as our grandmother Infanta doña Sancha, the sister of our father Emperor Alfonso of illustrious memory, rightly had it, and as other infantas who were of our kin rightly held it. And you shall hold it and have it by hereditary right from me, by reason and custom, as other infantas, our relatives, have held it from their brothers. Therefore for that reason, you shall have the Infantazgo with all its rights from me in perpetuity. This donation is unusual for two reasons. First, it was exceedingly rare for a single infanta to hold the entire Infantazgo. Even exceptionally powerful infantas like Sancha Raimúndez achieved their prominence because they held a large share of the Infantazgo, not because they held all of it. And in 1165 there were other infantas who had a claim to crown property. Ferdinand II was not yet married and had no known daughters. But he did have two half-sisters. One, also named Sancha, was the daughter of Alfonso VII and his second wife, Rica of Poland. Although this infanta, Sancha Alfonso III (1155–1208), was only ten years old in 1165 that would not necessarily have barred her from holding Infantazgo lands; Sancha Raimúndez had received properties when she was about five. However, Sancha Alfonso III was already betrothed to King Alfonso II of Aragon, in a match that Ferdinand II had arranged in 1162. Perhaps her planned foreign marriage, distant though it was (it would not be solemnized for another nine years), discouraged the Leonese king from bestowing crown property on her. The king’s other half-sister, Estefanía Alfonso (c. 1148–1180), was an adult of seventeen or eighteen. She was of illegitimate birth, but she had been raised as a royal daughter in Sancha Raimúndez’s court; indeed, Alfonso VII seems to have made every effort to ensure that his illegitimate daughters were seen as full members of the dynasty. Estefanía was also married, to the magnate Fernando Rodríguez de Castro. However, neither illegitimate birth nor marriage to a Leonese-Castilian noble had barred another of Ferdinand II’s half-sisters, Urraca Alfonso, from holding a substantial share of the Infantazgo from 1153 to her death in 1164. So there was no prima facie reason to deny Estefanía’s rights in the Infantazgo. The fact that Ferdinand II’s diploma refers to Sancha Alfonso II as “my only sister” is therefore peculiar. She was his only full sister—a fact perhaps emphasized by the diploma’s earlier observation that she was “born of the same father and mother as I.” But she was neither his only sister, nor even his only legitimate sister. Even more curious is that, unlike the “other infantas of our kin” who had held the Infantazgo, Sancha Alfonso II was not resident in León in 1165. On the

62 Janna Bianchini contrary, she had married King Sancho VI of Navarre a decade earlier. There is no evidence that other Leonese-Castilian infantas ever held Infantazgo properties while living outside the kingdom. The rationale seems clear enough: if women held the Infantazgo while married abroad, there was a real risk of crown patrimony being permanently alienated in favor of their husbands or children. So for Ferdinand II to bestow a large and valuable share of his dominions on the queen consort of Navarre “by hereditary right” and “in perpetuity” is, to say the least, very strange. This diploma has been termed the “end of the Infantazgo,” the culmination of a decline that had begun with the death of Sancha Raimúndez six years earlier. Patrick Henriet, the scholar who has studied it most closely, sees it as “an unprecedented political instrumentalization of the Infantado.” He argues that Ferdinand II used this donation for a double purpose: first, to secure good relations with his newly minted Navarrese ally, and second, to further assert his sovereignty over the Castilian regions of Toledo, the Transierra, and the Tierra de Campos around Palencia. Certainly, in this diploma Ferdinand II lays claim to those parts of Castile, at the direct expense of Alfonso VIII. At the same time, however, he cedes control of Infantazgo properties there, which is an unpromising strategy for a king who seeks to consolidate his authority over disputed lands. Moreover, the bulk of the donation comes from Leonese territory—Galicia, Asturias, the Bierzo, and León itself. If this is meant as a courtship of Sancho VI, it is an exceedingly generous one. If it is meant merely to carry on the tradition of the Infantazgo to Queen Sancha’s benefit, then it effectively disinherits Ferdinand II’s future daughters as well as his sisters, and affords Sancha Alfonso II a degree of lordship and influence in León even more extensive than what Sancha Raimúndez had had. Patrick Henriet raises the possibility that this diploma is false. The original does not survive, and the earliest copy is dated to 1236–1237. Henriet found no major faults in the copy’s diplomatics that would conclusively identify it as a forgery. However, tensions between León-Castile and Navarre were quite high in 1236–1237. A proposed marriage alliance between Blanca, the heir to Navarre, and Alfonso, the heir to León-Castile, had fallen through in 1234–1235. And by the time this copy was made, King Thibault I of Navarre was sufficiently anxious about León-Castile that he asked for papal protection against its ruler, Ferdinand III. So in 1236–1237, the Navarrese crown had good reason to emphasize any hereditary claims it might have to Leonese-Castilian lands. It may even have had reason to invent them. I will return to the failed betrothal between Blanca of Navarre and Alfonso of León-Castile; first, the 1165 diploma deserves more scrutiny. I have already noted its erroneous description of Sancha Alfonso II as Ferdinand II’s “only sister” and the very untraditional grant of Infantazgo lands “by hereditary right” and “in perpetuity” rather than for the infanta’s lifetime. Indeed, the diploma itself is untraditional; we have no

The Infantazgo in the Reign of Alfonso VIII 63 other twelfth-century diplomas in which the crown grants Infantazgo property to an infanta. The acquisition of power in the Infantazgo seems to have been far less formal than this diploma implies. However, perhaps the extraordinary nature of the grant required extraordinary documentation, including confirmation by the nobles and bishops of the court. But here, again, there are irregularities. The diploma is confirmed not only by Leonese bishops, but also by the Castilian prelates of Toledo, Palencia, Ávila, and Segovia. Again, we could read this as Ferdinand II’s assertion of authority over these specific parts of Castile: Toledo, the Tierra de Campos (Palencia), and the Transierra (Ávila and Segovia). Indeed, all of these bishops had confirmed Ferdinand II’s diplomas earlier in the 1160s. But it is worth noting that Archbishop Juan of Toledo had not confirmed for the Leonese king in extant diplomas since September 6, 1164. The other bishops had been absent from Ferdinand II’s documents even longer: Guillermo of Segovia and Sancho of Ávila had last confirmed on February 21, 1164, and Raimundo of Palencia had been absent over a year longer than that, last confirming on February 6, 1163. Nor did any of them confirm for Ferdinand II again after the diploma in question. Among the Leonese prelates, Martín confirms as the archbishop of Santiago de Compostela. Martín had been “ejected” from his seat in September 1160, but was briefly reinstated in October 1164. He is last named as archbishop in December 1164. When the see is next mentioned in royal diplomas, Bishop Pedro of Mondoñedo is identified as “holding the archbishop’s place” (tenente vices archiepiscopi). Was Archbishop Martín still in his see in January 1165? Most likely he was; but scarcely any other royal diplomas survive for the period between December 1164 and April 14, 1165, so confirmation is difficult to come by. If the diploma is a forgery, it was well executed; aside from the peculiarities I have noted, it contains no obvious evidence that it is inauthentic. But when other contemporary documents are taken into account, there is far more reason to suspect that the 1165 diploma was, at the very least, falsified. Sancha Alfonso II never exercised the sweeping lordship this diploma would have bestowed on her. Although she lived fourteen more years after Ferdinand II’s supposed grant, documents after 1165 do not mention her as holding Infantazgo properties, or as any sort of actor in Leonese affairs. Considering how extensive her dominion in León would have been, this silence is surprising. Sancha Raimúndez—who had held less of the Infantazgo than Sancha Alfonso II would have done after 1165—was a constant presence in her brother Alfonso VII’s diplomas, besides issuing many of her own. Of course, Sancha Raimúndez spent her life in León-Castile, while Sancha Alfonso II resided with her husband in Navarre. But her physical absence alone does not account for her documentary absence. Between 1165 and Sancha Alfonso II’s death in 1179, Ferdinand II issued at least three diplomas in which he explicitly granted Infantazgo properties to individuals or institutions outside the royal family. In October 1165, just

64 Janna Bianchini nine months after ostensibly giving the entire Infantazgo to his sister, the king awarded various properties to the cathedral of León, including “all the churches that had been built in the diocese of León or will be built hereafter, belonging to our realengo [i.e., crown properties] or to the Infantazgo. I therefore concede these churches to the church of León . . . by hereditary right in perpetuity, with all their rights and appurtenances.” The diploma, which exists in an original, is subscribed by the usual complement of Leonese prelates and nobles. But although Ferdinand II co-issued it with his wife, Urraca of Portugal, it includes no intervention by Sancha Alfonso II, the putative lord of the churches being donated. Similarly, in June 1170 Ferdinand II donated all the churches in the diocese of Astorga that belonged either to the realengo or to the Infantazgo to Astorga’s cathedral and bishop. In August 1173 he gave the realengo of Villamato and Villarias to the monastery of Vega, adding, “I also give and concede to you any Infantazgo properties contained in the aforesaid Villarias.” And in October 1174 he gave the heredad of Moral and all the Infantazgo lands in the southern part of Ciudad Rodrigo to Suero Rodríguez, his wife María Pérez, and the members of their religious order, both present and future. Neither Sancha Alfonso II nor anyone who can be associated with her intervened in any of these donations, even though they were donations of her property according to the 1165 grant. And these three represent only the diplomas in which the term infantaticum actually appears. As I mentioned earlier, infantaticum is not always used even in reference to properties shown by other evidence to belong to the Infantazgo. Sancha Raimúndez herself had called the monastery of Vega one of the “heads” of the Infantazgo in 1143, but it is not described as infantaticum in Ferdinand II’s 1173 diploma. The extant diplomas in which Ferdinand II called a donated property infantaticum therefore probably represent only a portion of the total donations he made from the Infantazgo. His sister’s absence from any of these acts, along with her general invisibility in Leonese charters of the period, strongly suggests that she had little or no share in dominion over the Infantazgo. By contrast, when Alfonso VII gave the cathedral of León the tercias of the towns within its diocese that belonged to the Infantazgo (ad Infantago) in 1143, he acted jointly with Sancha Raimúndez: “Ego Adefonsus Hispanie imperator, et soror mea domna Sancia . . . damus.” Note that Alfonso VII and Sancha make this donation, and that the main verb is in the first person plural, demonstrating their shared authority over the rights being granted. In Ferdinand II’s diplomas regarding the Infantazgo, he acts only with (una cum) his wife, or with her and their son, and the main verb is in the first person singular. This indicates his full and singular authority to make the grants in question. In other words, neither the king’s wife nor his son, nor his sister in Navarre, had any evident dominion over Infantazgo property. In the absence of an infanta assigned to rule it, then, the Infantazgo appears simply to have reverted to the reigning monarch’s control, to be managed as he

The Infantazgo in the Reign of Alfonso VIII 65 chose. And this might indeed support the conclusion that the Infantazgo “died” with Sancha Raimúndez in 1159. The two Leonese infantas who might have held lordship there, Sancha Alfonso III and Estefanía Alfonso, evidently never did, and in Castile Alfonso VIII had neither sisters nor daughters. The dearth of infantas only became more pronounced circa 1180, when Estefanía Alfonso died. Sancha Alfonso III had been queen consort of Aragon since 1174, and should thus have been ineligible to claim Infantazgo lands. And neither Ferdinand II nor Alfonso VIII had daughters before 1180, when Alfonso VIII’s eldest, Berenguela of Castile, was born. In such a situation, with few royal women available to rule Infantazgo properties and with a number of those properties at risk in the border dispute between León and Castile, perhaps it made sense to fold those dominions back into crown lands and let the Infantazgo expire. But the Infantazgo did not, in fact, disappear. For one thing, it continues to show up in the existing documentation well into the thirteenth century. For another, even if the 1165 grant to Sancha Alfonso II were authentic, it applied only to the parts of the Infantazgo under Leonese control. The kingdom of Castile had an Infantazgo of its own.

The Tierras de Mujeres Admittedly, Castile’s Infantazgo properties were much less substantial than León’s. In her 1972 study of Sancha Raimúndez, Luisa García Calles identified at least seven nuclei of Infantazgo properties, only two of which included Castilian territory. One of these was the so-called Infantazgo de Covarrubias, in northern Castile, a region frequently at risk from Navarrese expansion during Alfonso VIII’s reign. The other was the Infantazgo de Campos, which García Calles described as the heart of Sancha Raimúndez’s dominion—and which, in Alfonso VIII’s lifetime, was under near-constant threat from León. So the Castilian Infantazgo in Alfonso VIII’s reign was modest, compared with León’s, and never entirely secure. Still, there was little traditional use for the Infantazgo in a kingdom ruled by an orphaned child, with neither sister nor daughter who might claim it. But in 1170 Alfonso VIII of Castile married Leonor Plantagenet. As Visigothic law required, he gave his bride an arras, or dower: a portion of his lands that served as her economic support. Leonor’s arras in 1170—nine years before Sancha Alfonso II died—incorporated thirty castles or towns and the rents from nine more. Of the thirty castles or towns that she now held, at least eight can be identified with Infantazgo properties. Most came from the Infantazgo de Covarrubias, but at least two, Medina del Campo and Abia de las Torres, were places that Ferdinand II supposedly gave to his sister in 1165: Medina del Campo was part of the Infantazgo in Extremadura, and Abia belonged to the Infantazgo in the Tierra de Campos, both of which Ferdinand II claimed to rule in 1165. Leonor’s arras, like the marriage itself, cannot be separated from the context of Alfonso VIII’s conflicts with Sancho VI of

66 Janna Bianchini Navarre, who had occupied considerable territory on the Castilian-Navarrese border during Alfonso VIII’s minority. Many of the properties assigned to Leonor as arras lay in or near the areas disputed with Navarre, presumably as a means to interest her parents, Henry II of England and Eleanor of Aquitaine, in preserving Castile’s control of them. Perhaps Medina del Campo and Abia de las Torres, as parts of the Infantazgo now held by the queen of Navarre, were simply among the Navarrese-held properties that Alfonso VIII wanted to reclaim. Nevertheless, Leonor’s possession of at least six other Infantazgo towns implies that Alfonso VIII was moving to return some of the Castilian Infantazgo to the hands of a royal woman. Still, Leonor’s arras represents a notable shift in practice regarding the Infantazgo. In the past, it had typically been reserved for sisters and daughters of a reigning monarch. Queen Sancha of León and her granddaughter Queen Urraca of León-Castile had both held Infantazgo lands as queens consort, but they were both also reigning monarchs in their own right. Foreign queens who married into the dynasty seem to have received royal lands separate from the Infantazgo. The reason for this innovation in Leonor’s case may have stemmed from Alfonso VIII’s desire to enlist the help of his powerful Plantagenet in-laws in any upcoming struggles with both Navarre and León, and perhaps also from a recognition that, given his and Leonor’s ages, there were unlikely to be any Castilian royal daughters for quite some time. Leonor’s arras also marks Castile’s first discernible designation of certain properties as what Esther Pascua and Ana Rodríguez López termed “tierras de mujeres,” property that was associated with queens consort and often given to them as arras. Like the Infantazgo itself, however, an arras was a mutable thing. When Leonor’s eldest daughter, Berenguela, was to be married to Frederick Barbarossa’s son Conrad of Rothenburg in 1188, the terms of their union included an assurance that Leonor’s arras would be protected if the new couple someday reigned in Castile. The properties that comprised Leonor’s arras were accordingly enumerated, and fewer than half of them had appeared in Leonor’s original arras agreement eighteen years before. Four of those—Belorado, Burgos, Castrojeriz, and Pancorbo—had historically been part of the Infantazgo de Covarrubias. None of Alfonso VIII’s sons were married in his lifetime, and Leonor only briefly outlived him. So there are no further enumerations of the Castilian tierras de mujeres until the first marriage of Alfonso VIII’s grandson, Ferdinand III of Castile, in 1219. Ferdinand III assigned his wife, Beatrice of Swabia, twelve arras properties. Six of them had been included in Leonor’s arras in both 1170 and 1188. A seventh, Villafranca, had belonged to Leonor’s arras in 1188 but not in 1170; an eighth, Logroño, had been in Leonor’s arras in 1170 but not in 1188, most likely because Henry II had judged in the meantime that it should go to Navarre. Of the six properties that had belonged to Leonor in both 1170 and 1188, three—Belorado, Castrojeriz, and Pancorbo—had historically been

The Infantazgo in the Reign of Alfonso VIII 67 associated with the Infantazgo. The overlap between Leonor’s arras and that of Beatrice strongly supports the idea that Castile had associated certain properties with the queen consort. But it also indicates that some of these tierras de mujeres had been derived from the Castilian Infantazgo. Some fifteen years later, in 1234–1235, Ferdinand III negotiated a marriage between his eldest son, the future Alfonso X, and Blanca of Navarre, the eldest daughter and heir of Theobald I of Navarre. Blanca’s proposed arras, like that of Beatrice, contained twelve properties. Two of them (Aguilar de Campóo and Saldaña) had been part of Leonor’s arras in 1170; another, Haro, had been part of her arras in 1188. A fourth, Pancorbo, had been in Leonor’s arras in both 1170 and 1188, and had been given to Beatrice of Swabia in 1219. Pancorbo, like Aguilar de Campóo, had historical ties to the Infantazgo. Blanca was therefore well provided with property from the Castilian tierras de mujeres. But by 1234 León and Castile were reunited, so Ferdinand III could pledge her Leonese lands in arras too. He gave her Astorga and Mansilla, in the Bierzo and the Tierra de Campos respectively—both towns that had been in the arras of his mother, Berenguela of Castile, when she married Alfonso IX of León. Astorga, too, had connections to the Infantazgo. So did Medina de Rioseco, another town in the Tierra de Campos that was promised to Blanca. In short, out of the twelve towns assigned to Blanca, six had formerly been part of other women’s arras, and four of those were associated with the Infantazgo. The alliance marriage between Blanca and Alfonso X never took place. Shortly after the 1234 treaty with León-Castile was concluded, Theobald I was seeking a marriage for Blanca in Brittany; and, in any case, Theobald I had a son in late 1235, who displaced Blanca as heir to Navarre and made the union with León-Castile less appealing to both parties. The collapse of the proposed alliance was followed by military tensions so high that in early 1237, Pope Gregory IX repeatedly admonished the Castilian monarchs to make peace with Navarre so that Theobald I could fulfill his crusade vow. It was in this strained atmosphere, in 1236–1237, that a scribe penned the earliest extant copy of Ferdinand II of León’s diploma granting the entire Infantazgo “in perpetuity” to his sister Sancha Alfonso II, the queen of Navarre. Theobald I and Ferdinand III were at odds over the Navarrese-Castilian border, home to many of the Castilian tierras de mujeres and to various Castilian Infantazgo properties; Blanca of Navarre’s arras shows Theobald’s interest in acquiring not only a portion of this border zone, but also other Infantazgo lands within both Castile and León. This is still more reason to view the extant copy with caution. Clearly, certain properties had come to be associated with the arras of Castile’s queens consort. The overlap of these tierras de mujeres with Infantazgo properties, as well as their gendered possession, suggests a connection between the two phenomena. But there is, obviously, an important difference between the tierras de mujeres and the Infantazgo as it existed before the mid-twelfth century: the Infantazgo had belonged to daughters of the ruling dynasty, rather

68 Janna Bianchini than to women who married into that dynasty. Why had this shift occurred? Alfonso VIII was hardly undersupplied with daughters who could have become dominae of the Castilian Infantazgo. However—although they may have exercised some lordship in connection with the royal convent of Las Huelgas in Burgos—the king’s daughters all married or took vows in young adulthood, and do not appear to have received properties in Castile before doing so. Two of them did return to Castile after their marriages were annulled, which could have made them eligible for Infantazgo dominions. One, Leonor of Castile, does not appear to have held any Castilian properties independently upon her return, perhaps because the terms of her separation from James I of AragonCatalonia guaranteed her control over her arras properties in Aragon. The other, Berenguela of Castile, is an unusual case whose career tells us a great deal about the Infantazgo’s evolution in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries.

The Infantazgo and the Wars with León Some Castilian Infantazgo properties, then, had become tierras de mujeres from 1170 onward. Others remained under the king’s direct control. Indeed, Alfonso VIII can be found granting portions of the Infantazgo to his subjects in the 1170s, just as Ferdinand II was doing. But the fact that both crowns retained most of their Infantazgos for a decade or more does not mean that the properties lost their unique identity. On the contrary, Alfonso VIII deemed the Infantazgo in the Tierra de Campos real enough—and valuable enough—that, beginning in 1179, he went to war with Ferdinand II of León to recover it. From the Castilian point of view, Ferdinand II had illicitly seized control of the Infantazgo de Campos during Alfonso VIII’s minority, when he had acted as regent in Castile. Now an adult, Alfonso VIII sought to reassert his rights in this strategically and economically valuable border zone. He may also have been anticipating the births of both sons and daughters as Leonor reached adulthood; she bore their first surviving child, Berenguela, in 1180. In late March 1181, Alfonso VIII and Ferdinand II came to terms in the Treaty of Medina de Rioseco. The fact that Medina de Rioseco itself was an Infantazgo property in the Tierra de Campos made it a particularly apt venue for the treaty’s conclusion. The treaty purported to fix the border between León and Castile where Alfonso VII, the last ruler of the united kingdoms, had decreed it to be: “from Ceyón and Cea as far as the River Tagus.” Its terms are carefully worded as a mutual agreement between the two monarchs. But as soon as it was sealed, the datation clause in Alfonso VIII’s diplomas began to proclaim that “the most serene King Alfonso recovered the entire Infantazgo from King Ferdinand.” The chancery continued to deploy this formula for over a year and a half, in tandem with other noteworthy events such as the birth of the royal couple’s first son and Alfonso VIII’s conquest of Cuenca in 1177. Indeed, the chancery stopped referring to the recovery of the Infantazgo only when it also ceased referring to any

The Infantazgo in the Reign of Alfonso VIII 69 events in the datation clause—suggesting that the change had more to do with a shift in chancery practice than with the significance of the event itself. This commemoration of the Infantazgo’s recovery alongside achievements like the conquest of Cuenca suggests that acquiring the Infantazgo de Campos (or Castile’s share of it, at least) held similarly profound meaning for Alfonso VIII. Twenty-two years after Sancha Raimúndez had died and twelve years after the death of Sancha Alfonso II, the border dispute between Castile and León was understood in terms of control over the Infantazgo de Campos. In other words, the Infantazgo was far from a dead letter in 1181. It was a distinctive, valuable part of the crown’s property, and Alfonso VIII’s chancery plainly expected that anyone reading his diplomas would know exactly what infantaticum meant. But what did it mean? Alfonso VIII’s datations seem to use infantaticum in a very limited way, compared to how we understand the term as it was used earlier in the century. Infantazgo properties had always been widely geographically dispersed, and, as already mentioned, most of the properties previously associated with the Infantazgo were not in Castile at all. Others, most notably the Infantazgo de Covarrubias, were under no threat from León in 1181. It seems safe to assume that neither Castile’s war with Ferdinand II nor the treaty of Medina de Rioseco had been aimed at recovering Infantazgo property in Galicia, or the Bierzo, or in the city of León itself; likewise, it seems improbable that Alfonso VIII was fighting to either recapture or protect Infantazgo domains in a securely Castilian city like Burgos. Yet the diplomas speak unequivocally of Castile regaining “the Infantazgo,” as though it had been fought for and won in its entirety. Alfonso VIII’s chancery in 1181–1182 seems to use infantaticum to mean only the Infantazgo de Campos. Perhaps this reflects both kingdoms’ fierce focus on the disputed border territories, which consisted overwhelmingly of Sancha Raimúndez’s dominion in the Tierra de Campos. In any case, this association of the Tierra de Campos with the “entire Infantazgo” combined with the phenomenon of tierras de mujeres to produce the peculiar circumstances of the marriage between Alfonso IX of León and Berenguela of Castile in 1197. The marriage was arranged specifically to guarantee peace on the border between León and Castile; Berenguela herself was to be the vehicle of that peace. There was, presumably, an arras agreement reached before the marriage took place, but it does not survive. What we do have is an arras charter from 1199, two years into the marriage, when the union had both been proven fertile and come under attack from Rome because of the couple’s consanguinity. Most of the thirty castles and towns assigned to Berenguela in her 1199 arras were on the Leonese-Castilian border, in both the Tierra de Campos and Asturias. Several of them had also historically been associated with the Infantazgo—for example, Astorga, Castrogonzalo, Castroverde, Gozón, Oviedo, and Vega. In short, a great deal of the border zone that had been in the control of

70 Janna Bianchini the last two great dominae of the Infantazgo when they died—Sancha Raimúndez, in 1159, and in 1164, Urraca Alfonso—passed, some forty years later, to Berenguela, Castile’s eldest infanta, who was also now queen consort of León. In her role as queen, Berenguela’s authority derived ultimately from her husband, Alfonso IX. But a close look at the terms of her marriage and her exercise of power in León leaves the strong impression that she had also been positioned as an heir to the Infantazgo. In addition to the towns she received as arras, most of the surviving diplomas in which she acted either independently or as a full partner with the king deal with properties historically associated with the Infantazgo. I base this assessment on diplomas that Berenguela issued either entirely in her own name, as the principal actor with Alfonso IX as her co-issuer, or as the co-issuer in diplomas whose main verbs are in the first person plural (damus, concedimus). Eleven such diplomas survive from the period of her marriage. Seven of them are concerned with the Infantazgo and related properties, including the monastery of San Pedro de Eslonza, the cathedral of Astorga, the collegiate church of San Isidoro de León, and the town of Castroverde. It has been suggested that Alfonso VIII negotiated his daughter’s arras with an eye to acquiring its border castles and towns. The 1199 arras charter itself said that Berenguela (and hence Castile) would keep all her properties if Alfonso IX dismissed her. And there was a very real risk that he would be forced to dismiss her. Although the monarchs may have tried to get the pope to overlook the union, Alfonso IX and Berenguela were related within prohibited degrees of kinship, and their marriage was invalid under canon law. Rome was increasingly hostile to such consanguineous unions and might well pressure the couple to separate—which is, in fact, what happened, after seven years of marriage and five living children. If Alfonso VIII had indeed hoped to bring Berenguela’s arras back under Castilian control, then he was in part trying (again) to recover a portion of the Infantazgo—this time by placing it in the hands of an actual infanta. If so, he had some success. Even after the marriage ended in 1204, Berenguela retained control over many of her arras properties, including the Infantazgo possessions of Castrogonzalo, Castroverde, Gozón, and Vega. She even seems to have tried to acquire rights in Villafranca del Bierzo, a well-established Infantazgo property not at all close to the Leonese-Castilian border, though probably not successfully. For the rest of her eventful career, until she died in 1246, she maintained a seigniory based on the Leonese-Castilian border, which was the source of a great deal of her power. In other words, Berenguela exercised a dominion like that of Sancha Raimúndez and Urraca Alfonso, in territory that overlapped significantly with theirs, and with similar authority in royal affairs as a consequence. If she was not a thirteenth-century domina of the Infantazgo, she was something very much like it.

The Infantazgo in the Reign of Alfonso VIII 71 It is true that we have no documents in which Berenguela says that she “hold[s] the whole honor of the Infantazgo,” as we do for Sancha Raimúndez. But that is also true of nearly all the women who held Infantazgo lands. Nor do Berenguela’s possessions, even in the Tierra de Campos, line up perfectly with Infantazgo lands as we understand them. However, we must account, as best we can, for the territorial impact of León-Castile’s partition in 1157. The creation of the new border caused the rapid growth and fortification of a number of towns that had been smaller, or even nonexistent, in previous decades. By the time that Berenguela married Alfonso IX, the landscape of the Tierra de Campos had changed significantly from its early twelfth-century layout. Several of the properties that came under Berenguela’s control had been populated or developed only in the late twelfth century, in the context of the border conflict between the two kingdoms; these include Mansilla, Castro de los Judíos de Mayorga, Valencia (known as Coyanza in the twelfth century, and now as Valencia de don Juan), and Villalpando. These properties would not have appeared among the possessions of the Infantazgo’s previous dominae simply because they did not yet exist, or were not substantial enough to leave surviving documentary traces. It is also worth noting that while some of the Infantazgo’s most important possessions never officially came under Berenguela’s lordship, she was closely involved with them. Her relationship with the royal canonry of San Isidoro de León, which had been deemed the “head” of the Infantazgo as far back as the late eleventh century, is a case in point. As noted above, Berenguela was a patron of San Isidoro during her marriage to Alfonso IX, but she continued in that capacity even after the marriage was annulled. In the 1230s, for example, she issued diplomas intervening on San Isidoro’s behalf with her towns in the Tierra de Campos. Indeed, a substantial number of her surviving independent diplomas concern San Isidoro. But we need not rely on Berenguela’s career alone to demonstrate that the concept of the Infantazgo endured through Alfonso VIII’s lifetime, and even later. Far from vanishing in the records of the late twelfth and early thirteenth century, the term Infantazgo recurs—not often, but persistently enough to show that, first, people understood what the Infantazgo was, and second, that it reflected a contemporary reality, not merely a remembered past. I have already mentioned that both Ferdinand II of León and Alfonso VIII of Castile repeatedly used the term infantaticum in their diplomas in the 1170s. They both continued to do so for the rest of the twelfth century. In 1181, 1185, and 1192, Alfonso VIII used the word infantaticum in grants and privileges to the monastery of Gradefes, Tello Pérez de Meneses, and a group of people from Burgos who “hold orchards in the Infantazgo heredad called Salceda.” In 1184 he also confirmed all the gifts Sancha Raimúndez had made of “all her heredades in Toledo” to that city’s cathedral, although the previous year he had arranged to get some of those same properties back. Neither of these two diplomas

72 Janna Bianchini uses the word infantaticum, however, so it is difficult to judge whether these properties were part of the Infantazgo or simply a personal possession of the infanta’s. Nevertheless, it is clear that in the late twelfth century, those associated with the royal court seem fully aware of what the Infantazgo was. This was true in the thirteenth century as well. In the 1220s or 1230s, the author of the Chronica latina regum Castellae noted that Alfonso VIII “gathered an army, large and strong, against his uncle Ferdinand, the king of León, and recovered the land called the Infantazgo.” Similarly, about a decade later, Rodrigo Ximénez de Rada wrote that as a young man, Alfonso VIII “acquired everything that he had lost [to Ferdinand II], even the Infantazgo, which had been thrown into question.” Again, in both cases, Infantazgo refers to the Infantazgo de Campos, not to the entire complement of properties in both León and Castile. The author of the Chronica was probably working from chancery records, perhaps including the very diplomas that Alfonso VIII issued in 1181 and 1182. Rodrigo Ximénez de Rada was working from sources that probably included the Chronica. But both writers used the term casually, as though they expected their mid-thirteenth-century readers to know more or less what it meant. And well they might have. The diplomas cited above show that infantaticum had a concrete meaning in the late twelfth century; diplomas issued by Alfonso IX demonstrate that that was still the case in the early thirteenth. In 1226, when Alfonso IX was in the thick of his struggles to ensure that his daughters, Sancha and Dulce, succeeded him, he conferred the royal tenancy of “the Infantazgo” on a court noble, Álvaro Rodríguez. Between 1226 and Alfonso IX’s death four years later, there are dozens of documents, both individual charters and royal diplomas, in which Álvaro Rodríguez appears as tenant of the Infantazgo, tenente infantaticum. If Alfonso IX made Álvaro Rodríguez a tenant of the Infantazgo, then he obviously thought an Infantazgo existed to be tenant of. Naturally, the significance of this is far from self-evident. To begin with, one wonders why the king named a noble as tenant of the Infantazgo, rather than his own daughters. Since he was trying to position Sancha and Dulce as his successors, it seems logical to assign them as much property as possible before his death, and the Infantazgo was an obvious choice. In fact, Alfonso IX had awarded his daughters substantial properties in 1217, though those lands were not explicitly identified as part of the Infantazgo. (Moreover, most of them were in Galicia, perhaps the region whose Infantazgo dominions are least well understood.) Second, Álvaro Rodríguez’s position as tenant of the Infantazgo is nearly unprecedented. There are no references to a “tenant of the Infantazgo” that I know of before 1226, and only one after 1230. Álvaro Rodríguez’s tenancy therefore appears to be a royal response to a very specific situation: the problem of Sancha and Dulce’s succession. Nevertheless, assigning the Infantazgo as a tenancy indicates, as I have said, that there were actually properties associated with it in the late 1220s—whatever those properties may have been.

The Infantazgo in the Reign of Alfonso VIII 73 Contrary to previous assumptions, then, the Infantazgo did not disappear in the mid-twelfth century. It was altered, certainly, by the upheavals that attended the partition of León and Castile in 1157. But it endured, to last through the reign of Alfonso VIII and well into the reign of his grandson, Ferdinand III. The Infantazgo’s terminology had always been mutable, and so had its makeup; properties were added to and alienated from it on a regular basis, and the word infantaticum and its derivatives were used inconsistently. As a phenomenon, its fundamental nature lay in its association with women of the royal family. For a time, especially in the 1160s and 1170s, there was a real scarcity of royal women who could take up the mantle of the great infantas of the past. Yet, both in the properties known to have belonged to the Infantazgo and in the so-called tierras de mujeres of later decades, the association between the Infantazgo and women of the royal house endured. Ferdinand II’s famous 1165 diploma granting the entire Infantazgo to his sister Sancha is problematic at best; not all of the Infantazgo’s properties were his to give. But the fact that the earliest extant copy of that diploma is from 1236–1237 should raise real concerns about interpolation or even outright forgery, given the tensions between Navarre and LeónCastile at that moment. At the very least, the diploma by itself is not proof that the Infantazgo ceased to exist. Eventually, of course, the Infantazgo’s significance did fade. But I suspect that this was due to the changes of the mid-thirteenth century, rather than the mid-twelfth. Ferdinand III’s unification of León and Castile—followed by his conquests in Andalusia, and the tremendous territorial gains that came with them—radically altered the kingdom’s axes of power. The old domains of the Infantazgo, especially those on the Leonese-Castilian border, lost some of their strategic and economic value as a result. And the multiplicity of male infantes in Alfonso X’s reign doubtless discouraged him from bestowing crown patrimony on infantas as well. The Infantazgo was a very unusual phenomenon, and it could not last forever. But its disappearance was far more complex, and far more gradual, than has been recognized. Notes 1. The term Infantazgo (or Infantado) itself is problematic. The Latin word infantaticum appears occasionally in the documentary record from at least the eleventh century, but its usage is inconsistent—even when one document refers to a property as infantaticum, subsequent documents may not. So although I use the term here for convenience, it conveys a stability and even an institutional character that the Infantazgo did not have in its early stages, and in fact may never have acquired. See Therese Martin, “Hacia una clarificación del infantazgo en tiempos de la reina Urraca y su hija la infanta Sancha (c. 1107–1159),” e-Spania 5 (June 2008): 14, http://e-spania.revues.org/12163. 2. The most comprehensive recent studies of the Infantazgo are T. Martin, “Hacia una clarificación,” and Patrick Henriet, “Deo votas: L’Infantado et la fonction des infantes dans la Castille et le León des Xe-XIIe siècles,” in Au cloître et dans le monde: Femmes, hommes et sociétés (IXe-XVe siècle), Mélanges en l’honneur de Paulette

74 Janna Bianchini L’Hermite-Leclercq, ed. Patrick Henriet and Anne-Marie Legras (Paris: Presses de l’Université de Paris-Sorbonne, 2000), 189–203. See also Gregoria Cavero, “Sancha Raimúndez: An Infanta in the Exercise of Her Power,” Imago Temporis: Medium Aevum 7 (2013): 271–97; Therese Martin, Queen as King: Politics and Architectural Propaganda in Twelfth-Century Spain (Leiden: Brill, 2006); Antonio Viñayo, “Reinas e infantas de León, abadesas y monjas del monasterio de San Pelayo y San Isidoro,” in Semana de Historia del monacato: Cantabro-Astur-Leonés (Oviedo: Monasterio de San Pelayo, 1982), 123–33; and the various contributions to e-Spania 5 (June 2008), a special issue devoted in part to studies of infantas. 3. T. Martin, “Hacia una clarificación,” 2, 26; Georges Martin, “Le testament d’Elvire (Tábara, 1099),” e-Spania 5 (June 2008), 33; Martin, Queen as King, 31–32. 4. Bernard F. Reilly, The Kingdom of León-Castilla under Queen Urraca, 1109–1126 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1982), 262; idem, The Kingdom of León-Castilla under Alfonso VI, 1065–1109 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1988), 279; Martin, “Hacia una clarificación,” 26; Henriet, “Deo votas,” 200. See also Janna Bianchini, “Daughters, wives, widows, lords: Dynastic identity and affective bonds among infantas in twelfth-century León-Castile,” in Reginae Iberiae: El poder regio femenino en los reinos medievales peninsulares, ed. Miguel García-Fernández and Silvia Cernadas Martínez (Santiago de Compostela: Universidad de Santiago de Compostela, 2015), 13–14. 5. Luisa García Calles, Doña Sancha, hermana del Emperador (León: Centro de Estudios e Investigación San Isidoro, Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas Patronato José María Quadrado, 1972), 30–31, 111–19. 6. Julio González, ed., Regesta de Fernando II (Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, Instituto Jerónimo Zurita, 1943), 241–43, no.1. 7. Martin, “Hacia una clarificación,” 12; Martin, “Testament d’Elvire,” n. 49. 8. “. . . dono vobis unice sorori mee quantum infantadigum in toto regno meo est, videlicet in Toleto et in toto Alenserra, in Extremadura, Legione, in Beriz, in Gallicia et in Asturiis, villa, castella, hereditates, monasteria et omnia que ad infantadigum pertinent, habeatis ergo illud, quomodo melius habuit avia nostra infantissa domna Sancia, patris nostri inclite recordationis Alfonsi imperatoris germana, et quomodo melius tenuerunt alie infantisse que de nostro genere fuerunt; et teneatis illud et habeatis iure hereditario eadem ratione et consuetudine de me qua alie infantisse, parentes nostre, de fratribus suis tenuerunt. Predicta igitur ratione ipsum infantadigum cum omnibus directis suis de me in perpetuum habeatis.” Henriet, “Deo votas,” 202–3. Sancha Raimúndez, of course, was the monarchs’ aunt (amita), not their grandmother (avia), as the diploma goes on to explain. 9. María Encarnación Martín López, ed., Patrimonio cultural de San Isidoro de León (León: Universidad de León, 1995), vol. 1 (Documentos de los siglos X-XIII), 34–36, no.11. 10. Peter Linehan, Spain, 1157–1300: A Partible Inheritance (Oxford: Blackwell, 2008), 17. 11. Bianchini, “Daughters, wives,” 26. 12. DRH, 244, bk. 7, ch. 22; Francisco Javier Fernández Conde, “La reina Urraca ‘la Asturiana,’” Asturiensia medievalia 2 (1975), 76–79, 92–94. Indeed, Urraca Alfonso’s second husband was Álvaro Rodríguez de Castro, whom she wed not long after Estefanía’s marriage. Álvaro Rodríguez was Fernando Rodríguez’s brother; thus Urraca and Estefanía were not only half-sisters but sisters-in-law as well.

The Infantazgo in the Reign of Alfonso VIII 75 13. “Que de eodem patre et matre quibus ego nata estis”: Henriet, “Deo votas,” 202. 14. Martin, “Hacia una clarificación,” 12, and n.15. 15. An example is Elvira Alfonso II (c. 1100–1135), a daughter of King Alfonso VI, who held the monastery of San Pelayo de León while still unwed. After marrying Roger II of Sicily in 1117, she no longer appears in possession of Leonese-Castilian properties. See Emilio Sáez Sánchez et al., eds., Colección Documental del Archivo de la Catedral de León, 13 vols. (León: Centro de Estudios e Investigación San Isidoro, 1987–1999), 5:49, no. 1349 (June 7, 1114); 56, no. 1351 (Jan. 8, 1116); hereafter CDCL. 16. Henriet, “Deo votas,” 200. 17. Henriet, “Deo votas,” 200. 18. Henriet, “Deo votas,” 199. 19. He is far from alone in accepting the diploma’s authenticity. See, González, Alfonso VIII, 1:170; Martin, Queen as King, 65; María Encarnación Martín López, ed., “Colección documental de la infanta doña Sancha (1118–1159): Estudio crítico,” in León y su historia, vol. 8 (León: Centro de Estudios e Investigación San Isidoro, Caja de Ahorros y Monte de Piedad, y Archivo Histórico Diocesano, 2003), 163. 20. Manuel Lucas Álvarez, ed., Tumbo A de la catedral de Santiago: Estudio y edición (Santiago: Seminario de Estudos Galegos, Cabildo de la S.A.M.I. Catedral, 1998), 237–39, no. 114 (February 6, 1163); González, ed., Fernando II, Registro, 378 (February 21, 1164); ibid., 382–83 (September 6, 1164). 21. González, Fernando II, 182. 22. González, Fernando II, Registro, 384–85. 23. González, Fernando II, 182. 24. The one that does has only a single confirming prelate: González, Fernando II, Registro, 385 (March 27, 1165). 25. See Patrick Henriet, “Infantes, Infantaticum: remarques introductives,” e-Spania 5 (June 2008) : 7, http://e-spania.revues.org/12593. 26. “Omnes illas ecclesias que in Legionensi episcopatu constructe sunt uel deinceps edificabuntur ad nostrum regalengum siue ad infantadgum pertinentes. Has itaque ecclesias . . . ecclesie Legionensi . . . iure hereditario in perpetuum habendas cum omnibus suis directuris et pertinentiis concedo”: CDCL, 5:370, no. 1535 (October 19, 1165; orig.). Fernández Catón considers this the original form of the diploma; another version, which he dates to the thirteenth century, omits the discussion of realengo and Infantazgo property and simply provides a list of the churches in question: 367–69. 27. González, Fernando II, Registro, 416 (June 17, 1170). 28. “Do etiam et concedo vobis quiquid infantatici continetur in supradicta Villa Arias”: González, Fernando II, 278–80, no. 27. 29. González, Fernando II, Registro, 438. I am surmising that the Infantazgo properties were in Ciudad Rodrigo, where the diploma was issued; González merely records that they were in the southern part of “the city.” 30. CDCL, 5:213–16, no.1440 (January 30, 1143; orig.). 31. “I, Alfonso, emperor of Spain, and my sister doña Sancha . . . give.” Ibid. 32. García Calles, Doña Sancha, 30–31, 111–19. Bernard Reilly was skeptical that all of these could properly be called “Infantazgos,” however: Bernard F. Reilly, The Kingdom of León-Castilla under King Alfonso VII, 1126–1157 (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1998), 139–40. He particularly doubted the evidence for an

76 Janna Bianchini Infantazgo de Covarrubias in Sancha Raimúndez’s time, but Martín López accepts it: “Colección documental de la infanta doña Sancha,” 162. There may also have been Infantazgo properties in Toledo, but this is somewhat difficult to determine; see below. 33. García Calles, Doña Sancha, 118. 34. They are Abia de las Torres, Aguilar de Campóo, Belorado, Burgos, Castrojeriz, Medina del Campo, Pancorbo, and Poza. See, most importantly, Miriam Shadis, Berenguela of Castile (1180–1246) and Political Women in the High Middle Ages (New York: Palgrave, 2009), 24–31; see also Ana Rodríguez López, “Dotes y arras en la política territorial de la monarquía feudal castellana: siglos XII-XIII,” Arenal 2, no. 2 (1995): 274, n. 3; García Calles, Doña Sancha, 111–12. 35. The list might also include Aguilar de Campóo, near Palencia. 36. Alfonso VIII’s marriage to Leonor was also overseen by Alfonso II of Aragon, who had his own territorial disputes with Sancho VI. In 1170 Aragon and Castile concluded a treaty of peace and mutual support, after which they jointly waged war against the Navarrese presence in their border regions. See Linehan, Partible Inheritance, 31–32. 37. In 1176 Alfonso VIII and Sancho VI actually submitted their territorial dispute to Henry II’s arbitration. However, the English king’s settlement affected only one of Leonor’s arras properties, Logroño: Shadis, Berenguela, 29–31. 38. Queen Sancha inherited León from her brother and married Ferdinand I of Castile (1037–1065). Queen Urraca (1109–1126) inherited León-Castile from her father, Alfonso VI, and was briefly married to Alfonso I of Aragon (1104–1134). 39. Admittedly, we have little firm evidence for the arras of Leonese-Castilian queens-consort in the early twelfth century and before. But they do not appear to be associated with properties known to be part of the Infantazgo. 40. Alfonso VIII was fifteen or sixteen years old when they married; Leonor was about nine. 41. Esther Pascua and Ana Rodríguez, “Nuevos contextos políticos en la sociedad plenomedieval: esposas y señoras en un mundo de jerarquía y fidelidad,” in Mujeres, regulación de conflictos sociales y cultura de la paz, ed. Anna Aguado (València: Universitat de València, Institut Universitari d’Estudis de la Dona, 1999), 52. 42. Leonor’s arras as described in 1188 included twenty-eight properties, of which thirteen had also been hers in 1170. These thirteen properties were Amaya, Astudillo, Belorado, Burgos, Carrión, Castrojeriz, Corel, Grañón, Monasterio, Nájera, Pancorbo, Peñafiel, and the port of Santander. See above, n. 34, and Julio González, Alfonso VIII, 2:857–63, no. 499 (April 23, 1188; orig.). For an in-depth study of Leonor’s arras, see Shadis, Berenguela, 24–31. 43. These were Astudillo, Belorado, Carrión, Castrojeriz, Pancorbo, and Peñafiel. See above. 44. Rodríguez López, “Dotes y arras,” 276. For Henry II, see Shadis, Berenguela, 29–31. 45. Julio González, ed., Reinado y diplomas de Fernando III, 3 vols. (Córdoba: Monte de Piedad y Caja de Ahorros de Córdoba, 1986), 3:54–57, no. 540 (October 31, 1234). 46. See Rodríguez López, “Dotes y arras,” 290–91. 47. García Calles, Doña Sancha, 112. 48. González, Alfonso VIII, 3:204–208, no. 681 (December 8, 1199); see below.

The Infantazgo in the Reign of Alfonso VIII 77 49. García Calles, Doña Sancha, 117–18. 50. Rodríguez López, “Dotes y arras,” 290, n. 29. 51. Eliseo Sáinz Ripa, ed., La documentación pontificia de Gregorio IX (1227–1241), 2 vols. (Rome: Instituto Español de Historia Eclesiástica, 2001), 2:196–197, no. 756 (January 30, 1237); 212–13, no. 778 (February 9, 1237); 224–25, no. 792 (March 28, 1237); 225–26, no. 793 (April 1, 1237). 52. See, Bianchini, The Queen’s Hand, 20–21. 53. This had been the case for Elvira Alfonso I (c. 1080–c. 1157) and Urraca Alfonso (1132–1164). 54. See, González, Alfonso VIII, 2:316–17, no. 190 (November 10, 1173), in which the king gives Infantazgo properties in Matallana to Tello Pérez de Meneses and his wife, Guntroda. 55. González, Fernando II, 126–35. 56. See Adeline Rucquoi, Valladolid en la Edad Media, (Valladolid: Junta de Castilla y León, Consejería de Educación y Cultura, 1987), 1:104; Pascual Martínez Sopena, La Tierra de Campos Occidental: poblamiento, poder y comunidad del siglo X al XIII (Valladolid: Institución Cultural Simancas de la Diputación Provincial de Valladolid, 1985), 132–33; Ana Rodríguez López, La consolidación territorial de la monarquía feudal castellana: expansión y fronteras durante el reinado de Fernando III. (Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1994), 139–40. 57. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:614–23, no. 362 (March 21, 1181). 58. “Serenissimus rex Aldefonsus totum Infantaticum a rege Fernando recuperauit”: Archivo Histórico Nacional, Madrid (hereafter AHN), Clero, 1701/8 (Apr. 2, 1181; orig.). 59. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:682–83, no. 395 (November 7, 1182). 60. The first diploma in which the clause appears says explicitly that Alfonso VIII “recovered the whole Infantazgo,” totum Infantaticum . . . recuperauit: AHN, Clero, 1701/8 (April 2, 1181; orig.). The word totum was, however, subsequently dropped. 61. Bianchini, The Queen’s Hand, 43–46. 62. González, Alfonso VIII, 3:204–8, no. 681 (December 8, 1199). 63. For Astorga, see García Calles, Doña Sancha, 117. For Castrogonzalo, see Carlos de Ayala Martínez, ed., Libro de privilegios de la Orden de San Juan de Jerusalén en Castilla y León (siglos XII-XV) (Madrid: Editorial Complutense, 1995), 199–201, no. 48–49 (May 18 and 20, 1141). For Castroverde, see ibid., 176–77, no. 31 (June 3, 1130) and 213–14, no. 60 (September 22, 1150). For Gozón, see García Calles, Doña Sancha, 119. For Oviedo, see Ayala Martínez, ed., Libro de privilegios, 225, no. 69 (April 26, 1156), and Fernández Conde, “La reina Urraca,” 78–79. For Vega, see CDCL, 5:213–216, no. 1440 (January 30, 1143; orig.). 64. See Fernández Conde, “La reina Urraca,” 76–79. 65. Julio González, ed., Alfonso IX (Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, Instituto Jerónimo Zurita, 1944), 2:159, no. 110 (December 31, 1197); Gregoria Cavero Domínguez and Encarnación Martín López, eds., Colección documental de la catedral de Astorga, 3 vols. (León: Centro de Estudios e Investigación San Isidoro, Caja España de Inversiones, and Archivo Histórico Diocesano, 2000), 2:231–32, no. 939 (March 1198); 232, no. 941 (1198); Martín López, Patrimonio . . . San Isidoro, 204, no. 168 (June 22, 1199); González, Alfonso IX, 2: 204–5, no.142 (November 27, 1200); ibid., 226–27, no. 162 (November 25, 1201); ibid., 227–32, no. 163 (1202). For associations

78 Janna Bianchini between these properties and the Infantazgo, see José Manuel Ruiz Asencio and Irene Ruiz Albi, eds., Colección documental del monasterio de San Pedro de Eslonza, 1:912–1300 (León: Centro de Estudios e Investigación San Isidoro, 2007), 166–69, no. 63 (Mar. 9, 1095); Martín López, Patrimonio . . . San Isidoro, 34–36, no. 11 (Nov. 11, 1099); and above, n. 63. 66. One of the first to suggest it, in fact, was Pope Innocent III: MDI, 306, no. 276 (June 5, 1203). 67. Shadis, Berenguela, 68–69. 68. CDCL, 6:166–74, no.1786 (Mar. 26, 1206; orig.); Julio González, Alfonso IX, 2: 303–5, no. 219; González, Alfonso VIII, 3:479–84, no. 845 (Jun. 27, 1209; orig.). See also Bianchini, The Queen’s Hand, 80–95. 69. CDCL, 6:166–74, no. 1782 (Mar. 26, 1206; orig.). For Sancha Raimúndez’s lordship in Villafranca del Bierzo, see, e.g., ibid., 5:267–68, no. 1474 (August 28, 1152; orig.) 70. See Bianchini, The Queen’s Hand. 71. “ego Sancia, infanta germana imperatoris, quae omnem honorem de infantadgo teneo:” Martín López, Patrimonio . . . San Isidoro, 71–73, no. 44 (February [17,] 1148). 72. DRH, 241-42, bk. 7, ch. 19. 73. Martín López, Patrimonio . . . San Isidoro, 34, no. 11 (November 11, 1099). 74. Bianchini, The Queen’s Hand, 233–36. 75. Martín López makes note of these occurrences in Leonese diplomas well into the 1180s in León, but interprets them as a dissipation of the Infantazgo at Ferdinand II’s hands: “Colección documental de la infanta doña Sancha,” 164–65. However, the nature of the extant records is such that we often only see property of any kind when it is given away. We still know too little about the Infantazgo’s makeup to conclude that Ferdinand II was alienating all or even most of its properties in León. 76. “Qui tenetis illos ortos in illa hereditate de infantatico que dicitur de Salceda”: González, Alfonso VIII, 3:80–81, no. 608 (December 8, 1192). See also Ayala Martínez, Libro de privilegios, 309–311, no. 134 (May 20, 1181); González, Alfonso VIII, 2:648–49 (August 11, 1181); ibid., 760–61, no. 442, (October 18, 1185). The latter two privileges concern transfers of ownership over the same properties. 77. “Omnium hereditatum suarum de Toleto”: González, Alfonso VIII, 2:734–36, no. 425 (Aug. 6, 1184). See also 2:717, no. 414 (December 20, 1183). 78. Her own donation does not refer to them as infantaticum either: Martín López, ed., “Colección documental de la infanta doña Sancha,” 268–70, no. 33 (January 29, 1143; orig.). 79. “Eodem tempore mouit exercitum, grandem et fortem, contra patruum suum Ferrandum, regem Legionis, et recuperauit terram que dicitur Infantitum”: CLRC, ch. 10, 43. 80. “Omnia enim que perdiderat, acquisiuit, et etiam Infantaticum, quod sub dubio uertebatur.” DRH, bk. 7, ch. 18, 241. 81. CLRC, ch. 13, 45-47, and ch. 21, 56-58. 82. Francisco Javier Hernández, “La corte de Fernando III y la casa real de Francia: Documentos, crónicas, monumentos,” in Fernando III y su tiempo: VIII Congreso de Estudios Medievales (León: Fundación Sánchez-Albornoz, 2003), 112. 83. Earlier in the De rebus Hispanie, Rodrigo Ximénez de Rada does offer a short description of Count García Fernández’s rationale for founding the monastery of

The Infantazgo in the Reign of Alfonso VIII 79 Covarrubias and endowing it with properties called an infantaticum on behalf of his female descendants: DRH, bk. 5, ch. 2, 150. But he never mentions the existence of Infantazgo properties besides Covarrubias; and when he reports Alfonso VIII’s acquisition of the Infantazgo in Book 7, he is clearly not referring to Covarrubias. So he does take for granted that his readers will understand what “the Infantazgo” means in this context. 84. See, e.g., González, Alfonso IX, 589, no. 481 (March 2, 1226); ibid., 709, no. 611 (December 20, 1229). 85. González, Alfonso IX, 448–51, no. 342 (January 6, 1217); Reilly, Alfonso VII, 139. 86. This is a charter from April 1235 that says the “Countess” and Álvaro Pérez are joint tenants of the Infantazgo, and identifies their proxies: CDCL, 8:44, no. 2008. 87. The documents themselves offer no indication of the tenancy’s geographical makeup. It may be worth noting that many of them concern Galician monasteries and survive in those monasteries’ archives. But given that many of Alfonso IX’s diplomas during this period fall into the same categories, this by itself is not sufficient geographical evidence.

Chapter four “Happier in Daughters than in Sons”: The Children of Alfonso VIII of Castile and Leonor Plantagenet Miriam Shadis A Family in the Sources In January 1199, Alfonso VIII and Leonor of England stood together with their children (including at least one babe in arms) at the convent of Las Huelgas in Burgos, where they received the monastery of Santa María of Tórtoles under their protection. Alfonso and Leonor acted with their son, Ferdinand, and daughters: Queen Berenguela, who had recently married King Alfonso IX of León, and the infantas Urraca, Blanca, Constanza, and Sancha. Perhaps they visited the tombs of deceased infant children—a son Sancho and a daughter, an earlier Sancha. Queen Leonor may have been pregnant with her next child, Leonor, and could look forward to another son, Henry, born in 1204. Like a portrait from a modern family reunion which always seems to be missing someone, this charter nonetheless gives us a snapshot of a family group which would remain remarkably coherent in their dedication to one another and to the monarchy of Castile, often within the environment of Las Huelgas. Referring to the fecundity of Leonor of England, Enrique Flórez commented on her multiple pregnancies—by his count thirteen—and noted that she was “happier in daughters than in sons.” Key to this coherence—or happiness—were the daughters already mentioned in the protection of Tórtoles: Berenguela, Urraca, Blanca, and Constanza, although the yet-to-be-born Leonor would also have a role to play. Four of these daughters were queens through marriage, and Berenguela by inheritance as well; two were regents; all patronized or were connected to the Cistercian Order. Through their marriages they bound Castile to the kingdoms of León, Portugal, Aragon, and France. As mothers, they supported the crusading project, both in Iberia and the Holy Land. They also maintained strong relationships with one another, and continued to build their parents’ patronage relationships with the church, particularly through the institution of Las Huelgas, where many of them lived at times and where almost all of them were buried. Leonor and Alfonso’s sons represented the high hopes of the monarchy as knights and potential rulers, but neither married nor did they live long enough to fulfill their parents’ ambitions. Understanding the long-term significance of Alfonso and Leonor’s political, religious, and dynastic strategies requires considering the lives and careers of their daughters, rather than their sons. 80

“Happier in Daughters than in Sons” 81 In a marriage spanning over forty-four years, Leonor and Alfonso produced at least ten children: while Sancho, Sancha, and a second Sancha are all attested with varying degrees of certainty but died as children, Berenguela, Urraca, Blanca, Ferdinand, Constanza, Mafalda, Leonor, and Henry survived beyond the age of ten, and all but Mafalda and Henry lived to adulthood. This essay seeks to accomplish two things: to present the offspring (both in childhood and adulthood) of Alfonso and Leonor as a discrete family group, from a prosopographical perspective, and then to analyze their overall significance as Castilian royalty and as a family in thirteenth-century Western Europe. Alfonso and Leonor enjoyed a rare, long, companionate marriage dedicated to the strengthening of the Castilian monarchy vis-à-vis local nobility and other Iberian powers, through conquests and international diplomacy, as well as patronage of the church and more secular culture. They sought to extend the reputation of their family and their realm in the wider European world. Dedicated to each other, they produced a large family in accordance with Christian mandates but also in the interest of shoring up their dynasty. Out of this family, it was their daughters who most successfully fulfilled their parents’ ambitions. In studying an era without group portraiture, consistent censuses, or personal diaries, how are historians to see families as a group? Under what circumstances may we see a family group together, even putting aside the question of whether such togetherness might reasonably be a characteristic of a family or an expectation of parents and children? For medieval Castile, at least, the best “picture” will come from charters which by their very nature were contingent on groups gathered together, and which so often sought to delineate some sort of family interest. As individuals, the children of Alfonso VIII of Castile and Leonor of England appear in chronicles, poetry, illuminations, and, of course, charters—where they often make their first appearances. It is really only in charters, however, where they appear as a group or in groups—rarely as an entire family, more frequently in clusters of two or more. The records for Alfonso and Leonor’s family life, and specifically for their children, are highly gendered, and also reflect dynastic and political imperatives. The contrast can be seen in the absolute lack of contemporary record for Mafalda, who only comes to notice in the context of her “death on the way to be married,” compared with the infante Sancho, who was part of the written record nearly every day of his short life and who, some years after his death, was still honored with a tiny, elaborate sepulcher, and eulogized profusely in the Las Huelgas Codex (a eulogy to be examined later in this chapter). Daughters were remarked in the record—in the charter record—only if they stood in the position of being an heir (or potential heir), or on the rare occasions when the entire family was being recorded as present, as was the case with the Tórtoles charter. The chronicle record is also gendered: when the daughters appear in chronicles is dependent upon their proximity to the king. This appears to be the case not only in Castile, but in Aragon and France as well. The

82 Miriam Shadis Iberian chronicles’ promotion of the princes, on the other hand, is understandable, given that it was certainly the ambition of Leonor and Alfonso to have a son succeed them. Overall, the chronicles provide a patriarchal perspective on dynasty and history; the deaths of the princes, furthermore, marked great narrative moments in which the destiny of the kings of Castile hung in the balance (and yet prevailed). Castilians lived in a social, political, and economic world that recognized women’s inheritance, property rights, lordship, and rulership. It is important for us to understand that such rights existed not merely in a technical, theoretical sense, but were applied. However, Iberian law and history permitted female political participation, ensuring dynastic security, and thus Alfonso and Leonor had possibly prepared their daughters to take on wider roles. For example, only one daughter of the five who survived them (Constanza) was destined for a nun’s life from her youth; the rest seem to be held in reserve for marriage and motherhood. Inheritance, legacy, and lineage were everything to the monarchs and the chroniclers who created their history. At the same time, Castilian women were full participants in the medieval patriarchal system. Indeed, to some degree, women’s privileges before the law and custom served to uphold that system. Thus, Castilian and Leonese chroniclers could not avoid Berenguela, but also made some mention of other daughters, and this is why it is possible to see Berenguela and her sisters as full participants in her father’s agenda. When Alfonso VIII issued charters, he almost always did so with his wife, Leonor, and after 1181, with his heir. However, although historians generally agree that Berenguela was their first child to live past infancy, the first child to be recorded in a charter was the infante Sancho, on April 7, 1181. He appears in his father’s intitulation (“et cum filio meo rege Sancio”) but also more interestingly in the dating clause of a mundane concession to the city council of Burgos of a fuero governing homicide: “tercia die postquem natus est Burgis rex Sancius filius sepedicti Aldefonsi illustris regis Castelle.” Each charter issued thereafter notes the prince as part of the royal triumvirate of king, queen, and heir—and counts out the days since his birth (for example, “secundo mense ex quo natus Burgis rex Sancius prefati Aldefonsi regis Castelle filius”). Soon after Sancho’s birth, however, Berenguela was recognized when a gift was made to her nurse, Estefanía, suggesting that she was perhaps being weaned at this time. Sancho last appeared in the charters on July 13, 1181; on July 31, Alfonso issued a charter “cum filia mea infantissa Berengaria.” Despite being older, then, Berenguela only emerged into view as her father’s heir upon the death of her brother. She was consistently included in her father’s intitulation, even as “regina Berengaria” into 1182, when her sister Sancha was born. Sancha’s birth occurred only a few days before the first anniversary of her brother Sancho’s birth (Sancho was born in early April, and Sancha in late March.) This reproductive pace attests to among other things Leonor’s fecundity, and the couple’s determination to produce an heir. Berenguela and Sancha appeared sporadi-

“Happier in Daughters than in Sons” 83 cally in their father’s documentation in 1182, 1183, and 1184, after which point it appears that Sancha died—she is last mentioned in February 1184, and Berenguela appeared alone in October, 1185. She then disappeared from her father’s charters, until 1187. Leonor and Alfonso were young, healthy, and fertile—it seems likely that Leonor experienced several pregnancies in these intervening years and hopes for a male heir remained pinned on the future—it was not so important to include daughters in official documentation. However, in 1187 the foundation charter of Las Huelgas in Burgos introduced a new daughter, alongside Berenguela: Urraca. This isolated instance in 1187 says more about the significance of the foundation of Las Huelgas to the family as a whole than it does about the daughters’ status. In 1188 Berenguela was the focus of the Treaty of Seligenstadt, in which Alfonso clearly had her recognized as his heir. This Treaty, probably prepared in Germany, was ratified at the Cortes of Carrión in 1188. At this meeting, Alfonso of Castile also accepted the submission of the young king of León, Alfonso IX, and betrothed the Leonese king to his infant daughter Urraca. In March 1189, both Berenguela and Urraca were mentioned; this potentially marks Urraca’s return from the Leonese court. Throughout 1188 and 1189, Berenguela was regularly promoted as her father’s heir, a member of the “plural” monarchy, along with her mother. Her appearance as such coincided not only with the confirmation of her status in the Treaty of Seligenstadt, but also with the failing peace between Castile and León. Alfonso acted consistently “cum filia mea infantissa Berengaria”—until his son Ferdinand was born in late 1189. While Berenguela’s betrothal to Conrad of Rothenburg was still celebrated in Alfonso’s charters, Ferdinand took pride of place in the royal representation, and remained there with a handful of exceptions until the end of his life in 1211. In December 1192, Berenguela, Urraca, and Blanca were included along with their brother, in an ordinary charter conceding some gardens as an inheritance on the condition of some rents. Why all the children should be named here is mysterious, unless the answer lies in the meaning of the words “hereditate de infantatico”—conceding a very special type of family claim as part of the Infantazgo. In 1199, when the family brought the monastery of Tórtoles under their protection, the siblings were joined by Constanza and Sancha. This is the only mention of a second Sancha. Mafalda is never mentioned in her father’s charters, nor in any contemporary chronicles; Leonor, at least, is explicitly identified in chronicles. The only intervention in the charter record after 1199 is the introduction of Henry in 1204, and then he appears consistently with his brother (again, with a very few exceptions) for the rest of his father’s reign. Ferdinand last appeared as a living participant in his father’s charters on October 13, 1211, and on November 26 Henry appeared alone. After his death from a fever at the age of twenty-two, Ferdinand was remembered and mourned, and even given a status which technically was not his, as Alfonso and Leonor’s firstborn, when

84 Miriam Shadis Alfonso (with Leonor) gave a charter “pro remedio anime mee et parentorum meorum et dompni Fernandi primogeniti mei.” Overall, these royal charters suggest an emotional arc of increasing intensity and anxiety, a growing attachment to the infante Ferdinand (especially), and, consequently, grief. They also highlight the investment first and foremost in male heirs—but also in securing an heir, of any gender. The daughters do appear at significant points, primarily in regard either to their births, or Alfonso and Leonor’s relationships with important religious institutions, such as Las Huelgas and Tórtoles. Separate treaties, such as the Treaty of Seligenstadt, Berenguela’s arras agreement with Alfonso IX in 1198, and the agreements arrived at with Alfonso IX after Berenguela’s separation from him in 1204 demonstrate, however, that even though Berenguela was replaced twice over as heir by her two brothers, she did not remain insignificant or neglected.

Birth Order, Naming Practices, Childhood, and Expectations Clearly from the start, Alfonso and Leonor hoped for a son—if not several—to succeed them, but Iberian inheritance practices made room for daughters as well. Castilian adherence to Visigothic custom regarding the rights of daughters to inherit equally with their brothers shaped the childhood and futures of the children of Alfonso VIII and Leonor. Fundamentally, these principles created a space in which daughters held potential for political power as legitimate heirs and potential rulers. Initially, Leonor and Alfonso’s oldest child Berenguela received the focus of these expectations, but this potential shaped the lives of her younger sisters as well, especially Urraca and Blanca. Apart from Sancho’s brief life, for most of their childhood, the sisters stood alone as the heirs to their parents. Only in 1189 with the birth of Ferdinand did this change. Berenguela’s status as an heir can be seen in her promotion in the charters throughout her childhood, and in the physical proximity she had to her parents in the years between her divorce from Alfonso IX in 1204 and their deaths in 1214—she always seemed to be at hand, present, and participating in the important events at court, noted by the chroniclers, and eventually named as regent for her brother Henry I. On the other hand, given their brothers’ existence and Berenguela’s own success as a mother, her sisters might be expected to take on different roles. Urraca, Blanca, and eventually Leonor were destined to serve their family as peace-weavers, to become queens through marriage in Portugal, France, and Aragon respectively. In this, their mother especially must have served as a model for them. Alfonso and Leonor followed typical Castilian customs in naming their many children, adhering to a gendered hierarchy of ancestry (male ancestors for sons, female for daughters—even when names existed that could have been gendered either way, such as Sancha/Sancho.) Their choice of names, perhaps somewhat

“Happier in Daughters than in Sons” 85 constrained by tradition, also tells us something about their approach to parenting, and their understanding of the larger role(s) of their children within the royal family, as key members of a dynasty. Thus, their eldest daughter was named for Alfonso’s grandmother, Berenguela of Barcelona, wife of the Emperor Alfonso VII. Their first-born son was Sancho, named for Alfonso VIII’s father, Sancho III of Castile. Sancha, a daughter, also carried his name, but may have been named for Alfonso’s aunt, Sancha of Aragon. Urraca was named for Alfonso’s great-grandmother, the queen of León-Castilla: this choice reflects a dedication to a ruling lineage, perhaps acknowledging the potential of female inheritance. Blanca was named for Alfonso’s mother, Blanche of Navarre; Ferdinand most likely was named for Alfonso’s ancestor Ferdinand I of LeónCastilla. It is possible that these naming practices could help sort out the birth order of the final four children: Mafalda, Constanza, Henry, and Leonor—Constanza was Queen Urraca’s mother, Constance of Burgundy, and so consistent with the Castilian-Leonese lineage, whereas Mafalda, Henry, and Leonor were all names derived from Leonor of England’s family. Mafalda represented Leonor’s grandmother, the Empress Matilda; Henry, Henry II Plantagenet, Leonor’s father; and finally, perhaps, Leonor for the queen herself, but more likely for her mother, Eleanor of Aquitaine. It is possible that Eleanor of Aquitaine was present at the Castilian court around the time Leonor was born, as she had come to Castile in 1200 to choose a bride for the French prince, the future Louis VIII. It is unlikely that the child was named for her mother—none of the couple’s sons was named for Alfonso. Moreover, it was through Leonor that her mother’s name was introduced into the Iberian naming canon and from there spread to England. Placing Constanza before Mafalda cannot be conclusive, of course, but it is possible to discern a naming pattern that (a) privileges the Castilian lineage, and (b) shifts after the visit of Eleanor of Aquitaine to the Castilian court around 1200. Contemporary records for other people demonstrate that royal children were assigned tutors and nurses of some status. And while it goes without saying that arguments from lack of evidence are not always convincing, it is striking to note that while Leonor and Alfonso’s daughters’ nurses appear in the charter record, there is no evidence of nurses or tutors for their sons, not even the relatively long-lived Ferdinand and Henry. Contemporary practice conflicted with contemporary ideology, which encouraged Christian mothers to nurse their own children, imparting their virtue. Whether they did actually nurse their sons or not, both Berenguela and Blanca were described as having done so, specifically in the context of having formed their sons’ moral character. Thus, it is possible that Queen Leonor nursed her sons herself. Such an act of preferential treatment ironically (if it did happen) served to obscure the record, whereas the charters mentioning nurses for Berenguela, Blanca, Urraca, and Leonor offer a glimpse into their childhood and infancy. As noted above, it was a reward for her nurse Estefanía that brought

86 Miriam Shadis Berenguela into the charter record. A second woman, Elvira, appeared in May 1189, when Alfonso, with Leonor and Berenguela, gave her a gift (a “villar,” a small village or estate) at Berenguela’s request [ad preces dicte filie mee Berengarie]. Berenguela’s petition to her father for a gift to her “nurse”—probably foster mother—coincided with De Rada’s notice that Berenguela objected to her betrothal to Conrad of Rothenberg—or at least that she “continued to speak against it.” In this context we see the child finding her voice and claiming her privileges at her parents’ court through their relationship. Berenguela’s sisters’ nurses have been identified as Sancha López (Blanca); Sancha (Urraca), and Maria (Leonor). It is possible that Urraca’s Doña Sancha was none other than Sancha Ponce de Minerva, wife of Pedro García de Lerma, who symbolized through his service the link between the courts of Castile and León as mayordomo to Alfonso IX, and then Alfonso VIII—although he was primarily the man of Alfonso VIII. His role in León was specific—to care for and protect the child (we might even say toddler) Urraca, during her brief betrothal to Alfonso IX of León in 1188. He is identified as “custos regis sponse.” Janna Bianchini has pointed out that after the Cortes of Carrión, the infanta accompanied her betrothed to León, although when the alliance fell apart she returned to Castile, perhaps by the spring of 1189; it makes sense that her nurse was her guardian’s wife. The daughters’ nurses kept their identities as nurses and an enduring association with the court long after their charges had grown up and moved away. For example, in 1226, Doña María, identified as the nurse [ama] of Queen Leonor of Aragon, sold an estate to Las Huelgas, an estate “given to me by King Alfonso and his wife Queen Leonor” [dedit mihi rex Alfonsus et vxori sua, regina Alionor] in Bustillo. The evidence surrounding the daughters’ nurses suggests as well that they had the best of care—if they were often separated from their parents, who lived the typical royal life of itinerancy. The intitulation of Alfonso VIII’s charters might seem to imply that Alfonso and Leonor kept their heirs close by, and perhaps they did. However, the itinerant life of the medieval court was notoriously difficult, and it is probable that as children, at least, the monarchs’ daughters and sons did not regularly travel with them. Despite a few infant deaths previously alluded to, they were a robust group, and as the cases of Urraca at age two and Blanca at age twelve made clear, accustomed to hard travel.

The Sons A central argument of this essay is that the ambitions of Alfonso and Leonor were not to be realized as they had hoped and expected through their sons. Thus, this examination of the infantes’ lives emphasizes those expectations, but also their ultimately minimal impact. Ferdinand’s birth in 1189 was immediately celebrated at court, noted proudly in his father’s charters; the infante was included in the intitulation as a co-issuer of the majority of royal charters along

“Happier in Daughters than in Sons” 87 with his mother, as his sisters Berenguela and Sancha had been earlier. At the time of his sudden death at age twenty-two in 1211, the prince was compared especially to his mother’s brothers—the comparison both enhancing the Castilian lineage with Plantagenet associations, and highlighting the boy’s military ardor. For example, the Latin Chronicle of the Kings of Castile, written well after the infante’s death, described him as being generous (almost to a fault) and attractive (“the flower of young men, the adornment of the kingdom, the right hand of his father”), seeking independence from his guardians, and then, “towards the end of adolescence,” focusing on becoming a knight, willingly clinging to those whom he knew to be vigorous in arms and expert in military affairs. He burned with a desire for war with the Saracens . . . The glorious king [Alfonso], seeing his son’s desire and his beauty (for he was exceedingly handsome) and the strength of his youthful age, was pleased with him, and gave thanks to the Lord who had given him such a son, who could now be his helper in the government of the kingdom, and could in part take his place in warlike affairs. O’Callaghan thinks it likely that Ferdinand took a crusading vow, along with his father. The Chronicle makes clear that Alfonso looked upon his son as a successor, but also partner, and that his military ardor was being channeled (from the king’s and/or chronicler’s perspective at least) to avenge the defeat at Alarcos, which “remained fixed deep in the king’s mind.” Although marriage diplomacy shaped his sisters’ childhoods in key ways, efforts to find Ferdinand a wife seemed half-hearted at best. As he came of age, Leonor and Alfonso were probably determined to secure a foreign bride who could continue to enhance Castilian prestige—and in the early part of the thirteenth century, the pickings may have been slim. Just before Ferdinand’s birth they had arranged a betrothal between Berenguela and the German prince Conrad of Rothenburg—but this arrangement foundered on the shoals of canon law and international diplomacy—and its demise probably hampered further connections with the German Empire, at least for the time being. In 1203, according to Jordan of Saxony, the Castilian nobleman Diego de Acebes (bishop of Osma) accompanied by the future St. Dominic, led an embassy to arrange for the marriage of Ferdinand to a daughter of the king of the “Marches.” Generally, historians have understood this to mean the daughter of the king of Denmark, though some have argued this might have been a daughter of “La Marche”—that is, of Hugh of Lusignan. Either liaison might have served the Castilians well, but in any event, in 1205 the ambassadors discovered the young woman had died. It is strange that given all of his other attributes, no obvious effort to marry the young prince was expended by his parents. Ferdinand was described as an ideal prince—valorous, generous, and handsome—but his death was prosaic—a sudden fever, and the twenty-two-year-old

88 Miriam Shadis was gone. His parents mourned their heir profusely; poetic elegy makes clear his reputation and the expectations placed upon him. He was survived, however, by his three older sisters, at least two younger ones, and his young brother, Henry. With Ferdinand’s death, Henry became the Castilian heir, although his presence in his father’s charters since his birth indicates that he too was expected to prepare for this role. As a little boy of about seven, he would have just been beginning his knightly education, and not developed a reputation for anything. Three years later he became king. Henry’s brief reign was marked by the power struggle between his sister Berenguela and the would-be tutor Álvaro Núñez de Lara. The spring of 1215 marked a pivotal moment in his career, when Berenguela lost control of the regency, ceding it to Álvaro de Lara. Soon thereafter, the Portuguese princess Mafalda arrived in Castile to marry Henry. It is very likely that this marriage was arranged by Álvaro, and also served a very specific purpose for the king of Portugal, Mafalda’s brother Afonso II: he was in deep political and military conflict with his sisters over their inheritance, and removing Mafalda from the scene may have suited his purposes perfectly. De Rada implies that the marriage never took place—that Mafalda returned to Portugal with her chastity intact—but interestingly, Mafalda adopted a new version of her royal identity after her time in Castile, as “queen by the Grace of God” [Dei gratia regina]. In Castile as well as Portugal, this title was used for queens by marriage, and different from Mafalda’s queenly title—the simple “regina” used before her departure for Castile. At any rate, the marriage was stopped—or ended—by Queen Berenguela. It is likely that it was not consummated, given Henry’s age; his charters make no mention of a queen or wife. In the spring of 1217, the unthinkable happened—Henry suffered a head wound inflicted by a rock or roof tile (the accounts differ) thrown by a member of his household. A surgeon attempted to save his life by trepanning, but the king died a few days later. The nature of Henry’s accidental death “playing some game” highlights the junior status of the young king at his own court. Henry’s death was strange, and suspicious, but at the same time the event marks the humanity and privilege of these people: the red roof tiles of the bishop’s palace of Palencia an attractive nuisance for the idling, bored teens; the surgeon on hand; the panicked fear of Álvaro de Lara as he hid the boy’s body and tried to repress news of his death. It is impossible to say what kind of king Henry would have been, but it is possible to discern, perhaps, some of the lessons in kingship he may have learned if we consider his nephew Ferdinand’s career, and remember that Henry and Ferdinand were of an age. Influenced of course by his mother Berenguela, Ferdinand was also schooled at his grandfather’s court. Ferdinand, like his grandfather Alfonso VIII, was notorious for his chastity, if his piety was conventional. He was committed to crusade, which could not be distinguished from the extension of Castilian dominion in the peninsula. And, he relied extensively on his mother, his wives (especially his first wife Beatrice),

“Happier in Daughters than in Sons” 89 and his brother Alfonso de Molina, as well as his sons, in an expression of corporate monarchy or co-rule. If Henry had lived, perhaps he would have manifested some of these habits as well—as his brother Ferdinand had already done at least regarding Reconquista.

Queenship, Dynasty, Crusade, and Conquest From the beginning, however, and in the long run, it was Berenguela who linked generations and practices of kingship from Alfonso VIII to her son Ferdinand III, serving as her father’s heir. Her role was always shifting—although the first born, she steps into the full light only upon the death of her brother Sancho in 1181, when her father began to include her in his charters and acknowledge her as an heir. This acknowledgment was repeated at the Cortes of Carrión in 1188, when she was betrothed to Conrad of Rothenberg; Bianchini points out that this marriage, as well as the one arranged for Urraca at the same time, was “designed to enhance the prestige of their father and his kingdom. This in turn put the infantas in positions of considerable strength relative to their prospective husbands.” At the same time, the author of the Latin Chronicle opined that Alfonso VIII intended Conrad to rule after him, “For at that time the glorious King Lord Alfonso did not have a son, but only daughters.” Alfonso was using this opportunity to strengthen Berenguela’s claims to the throne, and to rein in a potential husband who might indeed be seen as the real ruler, but legitimated only through his wife—should this come to pass. Indeed, the documents produced at this meeting would become key evidence of the king’s intentions when Berenguela claimed the throne first for herself and then for her son in 1217. 1189, however, saw the birth of her brother the infante Ferdinand, and Berenguela relinquished the role of heir. She became another peace-weaver—albeit a very important one, marrying her father’s cousin Alfonso IX of León, “for the sake of peace.” After being compelled by Innocent III to separate from Alfonso, Berenguela returned to her parents’ court with her young children, and from 1204 can be observed regularly in her father’s presence and earning his attention; both chronicles and charters confirm this. Although all signs pointed to her brother Ferdinand’s successful succession, Berenguela and her sons still stood very near the throne. Her future must have been uncertain, though, especially with Henry’s birth in 1204. Bianchini suggests that Alfonso VIII never particularly intended his daughter to serve as a regent for her brother(s); that role was to go to the king’s executor Diego López de Haro. After his death in 1214, however, followed in quick succession by the deaths of Alfonso and Leonor, Berenguela was thrust into the position of regent, and the office went from being “noble to queenly.” Because of her position as the eldest daughter of Leonor and Alfonso, as well as her longevity and fertility—not to mention her political acumen— Berenguela became, on the face of it, the most influential of her siblings, and

90 Miriam Shadis the one destined to ensure the success of whatever dynastic and political plan her parents had in Castile. Her biography is well-known and well-studied, and historians generally concur that she powerfully influenced and sustained her son Ferdinand III—first by raising him to the throne of Castile in 1217, then by negotiating the union of Castile to León, and finally by supporting his efforts at reconquest and crusade which extended the dominion of Castile-León to cover most of the peninsula. Berenguela also, through marriage diplomacy, sought to extend her father’s efforts to connect Castile to the wider world, especially to the German Empire and to France. She used marriage to shore up her sibling relations and prevent others from having unwanted political alliances. She arranged the marriage of her sister Leonor to the young king James in Aragon, and her own daughter Berenguela’s marriage to John of Brienne in an effort to prevent the marriages of Alfonso IX’s daughters by his first wife Teresa of Portugal from marrying strong husbands. The marriages of her son Ferdinand, first to Beatrice (Elizabeth) of Swabia and then to Jeanne of Ponthieu rebuilt the Castilian connection to the German imperial court and aided her sister Blanca by removing a dangerous heiress from the scene in France, respectively. In securing marriages for her son Ferdinand and fending off the possible marriages of his half-sisters, Berenguela successfully protected the Castilians’ hold on their dynasty. The eventual marriages of Blanca and Urraca to the princes of France and Portugal respectively demonstrate their importance—but we are unlikely to see that in their father’s charters, which were primarily about establishing his identity as a viable ruler and patriarch in Castile. Unfortunately, arras agreements for Urraca and Blanca, if they were ever drawn up, do not survive. Most of Urraca’s young life is in the shadows, and her importance to her parents epitomized by a series of potential marriages: her main role, then, was to serve as a representative of the Castilian royal family, a link between families, a peace-weaver. We have already seen her brief betrothal to the young king of León, Alfonso IX, in 1188, at the same time that Berenguela was being betrothed to Conrad of Rothenberg, and Alfonso VIII was accepting Alfonso IX’s submission at the cortes of Carrion. Later, Urraca was considered by the French envoys who came in 1200 with Eleanor of Aquitaine to select a bride for the Capetian prince Louis. As is well known, Urraca was not chosen to accompany her grandmother to France, but instead found herself, in about 1205, traveling to Portugal to marry the royal heir there: Afonso II, son of Sancho I. Urraca’s marriage to the Portuguese prince served to extend Castilian networks in the peninsula and at the same time to isolate Alfonso IX of León. As Afonso II’s wife, and then his queen, Urraca did her duty. Within a few years of marriage she bore a son, the future Sancho II; a daughter, Leonor, who would become a queen of Denmark; another son, Afonso, who would become Afonso III of Portugal, and a fourth son, Ferdinand. Urraca’s marriage may have been difficult—her husband was embroiled in a civil war with his sisters,

“Happier in Daughters than in Sons” 91 was notoriously unhealthy, and in the long run, sought to overturn Urraca’s own last will and testament. The couple was censored for their consanguineous marriage. However, Afonso also established clearly that Urraca should serve as regent of king and kingdom in the event he died leaving a minor, and he may have participated in her patronage of the new Franciscan Order; she was not without agency. While she lived, Urraca’s queenship may have served the interests of Castile, but how so is unclear. Her father died on his way to meet the Portuguese monarchs for some sort of conference. In the years that followed, Castilians were preoccupied with the minority of Henry I, the claims of Berenguela, and the rising power of the Lara. By the time political conditions in Castile had settled, around 1220, Urraca was dead. Her children, however, maintained strong connections to her natal family—her younger son Afonso being raised in France at Blanche’s court, and her older son, Sancho II, eventually finding refuge at Ferdinand III’s court in Toledo. Blanca was twelve years old when she left Castile in the care of her famous grandmother Eleanor of Aquitaine to become the bride of the French prince Louis. As Blanche of Castile, her career is well-known and well-studied, perhaps even more than that of her sister, Berenguela. Blanche’s Castilian identity was sustained throughout her adult life, initially by the household who accompanied her to France, and then through communication and visits from her extended family. Blanche proclaimed her identity and the power of Castile through her heraldry (notably in the transept windows at Chartres, but also through her personal seal), and her court served as a haven for a variety of nieces and nephews from Portugal, Castile, and Constantinople. Blanche clearly conspired with Berenguela over the marriage of Ferdinand III and Jeanne of Ponthieu, but her greatest contribution to Leonor and Alfonso’s dynasticism was expressed through her religious patronage and memorialization. Alfonso and Leonor’s youngest daughter, Leonor, was probably around fourteen years old when her parents died. She became the responsibility and companion of Berenguela, at her side during the conflicts with the Lara over the regency for Henry. And, she became an asset. Berenguela pursued her father’s policy of constraining Alfonso IX of León (especially in their son Ferdinand’s interests) and put forward Leonor as a bride for the young king of Aragon, James I—she was specifically concerned to eliminate the possibility of a Leonese-Aragonese match. Thus, Leonor was the fourth royal daughter to become a queen in the service of advancing the interests of Castile, and the third whose marriage was a strategic move against León. Leonor served as an important, if temporary, liaison to the Aragonese court, installed as the wife of the young James in 1221. James narrates with hindsight (and humor) their unusual relationship; charters reveal that as the young king grew in independence and power, his wife lost status and, once she had produced the all-important heir, relevance. Leonor and James’s son, Alfonso of Aragon, was born around 1227—in 1228 James had the infante recognized as

92 Miriam Shadis his heir at the Cortes of Daroca, and initiated a divorce from Leonor—blaming consanguinity, but probably irreconcilable differences were key. Nonetheless, Leonor may have been behind a donation to Las Huelgas: in December of 1225, James with the aljama of Calatayud promised an annual 100 maravedís to Las Huelgas from the rents of the Jews of Calatayud. The marriages of Alfonso and Leonor’s daughters who left Castile—including Berenguela’s failed marriage to Alfonso of León—all served to enhance Castilian prestige and widen connections for the Castilians. Their significant outcome was the wider network of future generations that emerged among Alfonso and Leonor’s grandchildren and great-grandchildren, especially when connected to the French court of Blanche of Castile—Blanche who persistently proclaimed her Castilian heritage and carefully memorialized her extended Castilian family.

Memory and Reputation: Constanza, Las Huelgas, the Living, and the Dead Alfonso and Leonor’s intentions as religious patrons and political dynasts were virtually embodied in their 1187 foundation of Santa Maria de Las Huelgas, in Burgos. This female, Cistercian convent served as a nexus for the royal family in life and death, a hearth which the women of the family visited, to which they retired, and in which men and women alike were buried, committed to the care of the elite nuns there, including their own daughters. Las Huelgas integrated all of the themes of fame, family, piety, conquest, and crusade promoted by Alfonso and Leonor and lived out in their daughters’ lives. In medieval Iberia, there was a long tradition of royal women moving between convent and court. Constanza, as Alfonso and Leonor’s daughter, was destined to serve as a crucial link between the monarchy and their precious institution of Las Huelgas. Constanza’s permanent presence at the convent, however, was augmented by regular visits from her sisters, and eventually the retirement of first Leonor, the former queen of Aragon, and then Berenguela, to Las Huelgas. Constanza served as a protector of both monastic and monarchical interests, and above all she represented the female obligation (shared with her mother, sisters, and nieces) to care for the royal dead. The historiography of “surplus daughters” may appear to explain Leonor and Alfonso’s dedication of Constanza to Las Huelgas from a young age—but the reality of her situation was much more complicated. There are plenty of examples of young men and women seemingly destined for the church but pulled out when it was more advantageous for their family that they be married—the case of Mafalda of Portugal provides a good contemporary example. Much more significant was the necessity for the Castilians of placing a royal daughter at Las Huelgas, one who could sustain the connection between court and convent, between the sacred and profane, between the living and the dead. Constanza was not “surplus”—

“Happier in Daughters than in Sons” 93 she was essential. Alfonso and Leonor were replicating the function of the royal Leonese women of the Infantazgo. Rather than see Constanza’s career as a solution to the problem of a surplus of daughters, it should be understood that Alfonso and Leonor would have long anticipated that a royal daughter would become part of the community at Las Huelgas—strengthening the relationship between the family and the Order, protecting the bond between the living and the dead. What we cannot know is how or why Constanza was chosen for—or agreed to—this role. Constanza must have provided a kind of anchor for her siblings. It seems likely that she essentially grew up in the monastery, which was also a site of frequent visits from her mother and sisters. At about age twenty, she would have witnessed the departure of her sister Leonor for Aragon, although Leonor would return within nine years. In the 1220s, Constanza was joined by her niece and Berenguela’s daughter, also named Constanza, and then, eventually, in 1240 by her grand-niece Berenguela. Las Huelgas, the family foundation of Leonor and Alfonso, really did remain a family hearth. Unfortunately, no document or chronicle explicitly states when Constanza entered the monastery. The earliest references to “the infantas” there comes in late 1222, when Fernando, “chaplain to the infantas,” purchased some properties on behalf of the abbess of Las Huelgas—acting as a kind of procurator. The surviving documentation from Las Huelgas suggests that Constanza took an active role in representing the monastery to the outside world, although at times it is difficult to distinguish between her and her niece, Constanza (Berenguela’s younger daughter), who was about her same age. In 1232, Constanza (probably the elder) had her chaplain Don Ferdinand create an inventory (or survey) of the properties held by Las Huelgas in Burgos. In 1233, the abbess Maria acted with the approval of “las yfantes,” and both Constanzas confirmed the charter, and appended their seals. In the same year, a charter of arras and donation noted “la yffante donna Constança filia del rey don Alfonso” as a beneficiary. Constanza was probably the first royal woman to serve in the very special role of “Lady of Las Huelgas,” a role identified explicitly a few generations later as a position for a royal woman who was not the abbess of the monastery, but who represented the court to the monastery and vice versa—who ensured that the founders’ intentions for this very special institution were carried out. This role was picked up by Berenguela’s daughter Constanza, and then her granddaughter, Berenguela (sister of Alfonso X). Persistently, historians refer to Constanza as an abbess of Las Huelgas, but this was probably not the case; no contemporary charter refers to her as such and there were several abbesses leading the monastery over the course of Constanza’s tenure there. The “Calendario” of Las Huelgas, preserved in the Museo Arquelógico Nacional in Madrid, clearly specified abbesses in its obituary records, but recorded Constanza simply as the “most noble Constanza, servant of God and purest virgin, nun of Santa María la Real: daughter of the most illustrious king of Castile.”

94 Miriam Shadis Upon her divorce in 1229, Leonor returned to Castile, and seems to have entered the community of Las Huelgas, in one way or another. She is practically undocumented. It is presumed that she lived at the monastery, because she was buried there—in a Cistercian habit, according to Gómez Moreno. The “Calendario” of Las Huelgas described Leonor twice, once when recording the death of her son Alfonso of Aragon, as “Doña Leonor, noble reina de Aragón,” and upon her death as the “muy venerable Leonor, reina de Aragón e hija de Alfonso, ilustre rey de Castilla. Era 1282.” The “Calendario” is fairly precise when it comes to identifying women as nuns or abbesses, so we might doubt whether Leonor took vows. As has been mentioned, Las Huelgas also served as pantheon for the royal dead. Ultimately Berenguela, Sancho, Sancha, Ferdinand, Henry, Constanza, and Leonor would all be buried there, along with their parents. A variety of sources demonstrate that Alfonso and Leonor loved their children when they were alive and mourned them when they were dead. Amongst the first royal bodies to be entombed at Las Huelgas were the infants who had died in the earlier 1180s. The elaborate, tiny sepulchers, created probably in the earliest years of the 1200s, assert not only parental grief but also dynastic primacy—even in death, children had a political function. The sepulcher ascribed to the infante Sancho is richly carved, depicting parents grieving over a deathbed, and angels raising a tiny soul to heaven. A poetic planctus appearing in the musical Codex of Las Huelgas mourns a royal Sancho—most likely the son of Alfonso VIII and Leonor—and the only royal Sancho buried at the convent: “Grieve, miserable Castile, grieve for King Sancho . . .” Much more dramatic is the grief described by the Latin Chronicle expressed by Leonor on the death of her son Ferdinand in 1211. The infante’s death affected the political ambitions of his parents in a blunt and profound way—Leonor’s performance of grief nonetheless suggests a deep personal loss, as did the numerous religious donations made in the infante’s memory in the years following his death. The sculptural theme of the soul lifted up, which appears on Sancho’s tomb, is repeated on the architectural frame attributed to Ferdinand’s tomb at Las Huelgas (it would eventually appear on Leonor’s tomb—and can be traced back to that of Blanca of Navarre, Alfonso VIII’s mother). I have argued elsewhere, along with others, that the care of the dead was an especially female obligation, and we can see how Las Huelgas sustained this, through protecting the dynasty’s dead and even elaborating its reputation. In the realm of remembrance, even Blanche and Urraca’s deaths were recorded in the “Calendario,” as “hijas del ilustrísimo Alfonso, en otro tiempo rey de Castilla.” It seems remarkable that Blanche would be so carefully remembered at Las Huelgas when she was only twelve years old when she left Castile for France. On the other hand, Blanche nurtured a deep relationship with the Cistercian Order as a whole, which, the “Calendario” noted, had mandated her anniversary to be celebrated. Blanche herself had carefully memorialized her

“Happier in Daughters than in Sons” 95 natal family in Castile, drawing the connections tighter between the Order, Las Huelgas, and the network of the royal dead.

Conclusion Even as their preference was for a son, and even as Ferdinand grew to adulthood, Alfonso and Leonor approached the education and rearing of their daughters with care—and obvious success. In particular, the fact that for the first eight years of her life, Berenguela was the acknowledged heir—and then the “mechanism” by which peace was sought with León—established her both in the record and in practice as a viable ruler who would legitimately carry on the dynasty—as, indeed, it turned out. The web of relations created between Berenguela, Blanca, Urraca, and especially Leonor, with Constanza at Las Huelgas representing a sort of spiritual and domestic focal point, served to strengthen the family, as well as their individual reputations, and provided great resources to the next generation. It seems almost too obvious to suggest that royal children who survived to adulthood and fulfilled their parents’ plans for them had a major impact on the profile of power in Western Europe in the High Middle Ages—but so they did. In the case of the children of Alfonso and Leonor, it was primarily the daughters who through their marriages, motherhood, patronage, and familial networking enhanced Castilian prestige and influence both within the realm and abroad. The sisters in this way might be compared to their near contemporaries, the “Provençal sisters who ruled Europe”—Marguerite, Eleanor, Sancha, and Beatrice of Provence. One can debate whether these women “ruled Europe”—in the same way that Berenguela, Urraca, Blanche, and Leonor may not have fulfilled every criterion of rulership. And yet they, along with their sister Constanza, developed international royal relations, promoted the “mystique” of the Castilian royal family (especially through their patronage of the Cistercian order), and expressed filial and sororal piety through their attention to each other’s children and grandchildren. Also, it might be worthwhile to think about how this family was constructed and related to one another not only within political and dynastic machinery but as a family bonded by affection. Alfonso X, in his Cantigas de Santa Maria, expressed his vision of the family dynamic in Cantiga 221, which tells of the miraculous recovery of Berenguela’s son the infante Ferdinand—and future Ferdinand III—from a dreadful illness, when his mother had taken him to Oña to visit a shrine of the Blessed Virgin Mary there. The context provided in the Cantiga suggests the affective bonds between Alfonso VIII, Leonor, and their children and grandchildren: when Ferdinand became sick, “the king despaired for his life. His mother then became like one crazed.” The Cantiga tells us that, “this child was in Castile with King don Alfonso, his grandfather, who had brought him from the kingdom of Galicia and who loved him dearly. His

96 Miriam Shadis mother was there also, who took much delight in him, and his grandmother was there . . .” The text goes on to describe Alfonso VIII’s conquest of Gascony on Leonor’s behalf, and then “[He] returned to Castile and later dwelt in Burgos and built a hospital. His wife founded the convent of Las Huelgas. While he lived thus he received much joy from his children and grandchildren.” The Wise King had undoubtedly heard a version of this story in his youth, perhaps even from his grandmother Berenguela, whose desperate fear of losing her son he relates. Alfonso, of course, was writing a miracle concerning his own father, a sort of “pre-hagiography.” Thus, Alfonso also memorialized the royal family— the king, his wife, their children, and their grandchildren, bonded by love and piety. He gives us an insight into a devoted family unit, happy in each other, although in the long run, they would be happier in daughters than in sons. Notes 1. “. . . ego Aldefonsus . . . una cum uxore mea regina Alienor et cum filio meo Ferrando et cum filiabus meis, scilicet, regina domna Berengaria, et infantissis dompna Urraca, dompna Blanca, dompna Constancia et dompna Sancia, recepimus sub protectione nostra et defensione monasterium Sancte Marie de Tortoles . . .” González, Alfonso VIII, 3:194–95, no. 674. 2. “Siendo en virtud de esto memorable la fecundidad de la Reyna, que fuera de otro hijo que resta referir [Enrique], tuvo doce partos, mas felices en las hembras que in los hijos.” Enrique Flórez, Memorias de las Reinas Católicas de España, 3rd ed., repr. (Madrid: Aguilar, 1959), 1:526. 3. As Lincoln recently noted, “it was Alfonso and Leonor’s daughters who perpetuated the Capetian dynasty, brought forth new kings of Portugal and Aragón, and reunified the old kingdom of Alfonso VII.” Kyle Lincoln, “Una cum uxore mea: Alfonso VIII, Leonor Plantagenet, and marriage alliances at the Court of Castile,” Revista Chilena de Estudios Medievales 4 (2013): 29. 4. Blanca/Blanche presents a historiographic problem. Although more famous as Blanche of Castile, queen of France, in her youth, as well as in Spanish historiography, she is known as Blanca. A possible birth order and dates of Alfonso and Leonor’s children follow: Berenguela (1180–1246); Sancho (1181), Sancha (1182–1184), Urraca (1186–1220), Blanca (1188–1252); Fernando (1189–1211); Mafalda (1190/1192/1202–1204); Constanza (1198[?]–1242); Leonor (1200[?]–1244); Henry (1204–1217). I will suggest an alternative below. Gonzalo Martínez Diez points to the possibility that Leonor may have been pregnant or even given birth more often, adducing this from lengthy gaps between some births and the presence of infant bones in some of the Las Huelgas sepulchers. If so, these would likely have been daughters, as sons seemed to always make it into the historical record (Alfonso VIII: Rey de Castilla y Toledo [Gijon, 2007], 57–58). Mafalda’s date of birth has been typically assumed to be around 1190, making her old enough to legally marry in 1204. As we will see in the case of her sisters Berenguela and Urraca, however, this was not always a consideration in the face of Castilian politics. 5. From Aragon, we have King James’s egoistic perspective on Leonor narrated in his Book of Deeds, and of course there are French chronicle sources on Blanche, such as Joinville’s Life of St. Louis. Portuguese chronicle sources are more problematic, espe-

“Happier in Daughters than in Sons” 97 cially for the thirteenth century—Urraca plays a larger role in the Franciscan histories of the Order, such as Arnald of Sarrant’s Chronica of the Twenty-Four Generals of the Orders of Friars Minor, trans. Noel Muscat OFM (Malta: TAU Franciscan Communications, 2010), but these religious histories have a completely separate agenda from the dynastic interests of either Portugal or Castile. Political histories, such as Fernão Lopes and Rui Pinto’s fifteenth-century royal chronicles focused on Portuguese kingship as might be expected, and like their Castilian counterparts rarely mention daughters or wives. 6. Miriam Shadis, Berenguela of Castile (1180–1246) and Political Women in the High Middle Ages (New York: Palgrave MacMillan, 2009), 34–39. 7. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:626–28, no. 364. 8. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:635–36, no. 368. 9. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:633–35, no 367, dated May 1, 1181. 10. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:642–45, no. 372 (July 13); 2:645–48. no. 373 (July 31). 11. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:808–12, no. 472. 12. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:857–63, no. 499. The Treaty of Seligenstadt is a particularly difficult record to work with, because it was probably not prepared in Castile. See Shadis, Berenguela, 52–53. 13. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:891–93, no. 520. Alfonso acts “una cum uxore regina et cum filiabus meis infantissis Berengaria et Urraca.” This is also interesting because at the time Blanca would have been just a year old—apparently she was not with her parents and sisters in Plasencia. 14. González, Alfonso VIII, 3:80–81, no. 608. Most scholarship on the Infantazgo is undergoing revision, and most of it addresses the practice of allotting specific territories and monasteries to the administration of royal women in the twelfth-century kingdom of León. For example, see Therese Martin, “Hacia una clarificación del infantazgo en tiempos de la reina Urraca y su hija la infant Sancha (ca. 1107–1159),” e-Spania 5 (June 2008), http://espania.revues.org/index12163.html. However, in terms of Castile, see Janna Bianchini’s essay in this volume, “The Infantazgo in the Reign of Alfonso VIII.” 15. González, Alfonso VIII, 3:194–95, no. 674. 16. DRH, bk. 8, ch. 15, 280. 17. González, Alfonso VIII, 3:327–29, no. 760, “cum filiis meis Ferrando et Henrico.” 18. González, Alfonso VIII, 3:547–51, nos. 884, 885. 19. González, Alfonso VIII, 3, no. 923. 20. Shadis, Berenguela, 23–24. 21. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:669–70, no. 386. 22. Lindy Grant, Blanche of Castile, Queen of France (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2016), 31–35; Élie Berger, Histoire de Blanche de Castille, Reine de France (Paris: Thorin et Fils, 1895), 8–9. 23. The name became common in Portugal as well. Constance Hoffman Berman and Miriam Shadis, “A Taste of the Feast: Reconsidering Eleanor of Aquitaine’s Female Descendants” in Eleanor of Aquitaine: Lord and Lady, ed. Bonnie Wheeler and John Carmi Parsons (New York: Palgrave MacMillan, 2003), 196–97. 24. For example, see John Carmi Parsons, “Que nos in infancia lactavit: The Impact of Childhood Care-givers on Plantagenet Family Relationships in the Thirteenth and

98 Miriam Shadis Early Fourteenth Centuries,” in Women, Marriage and Family: Essays in Memory of Michael M. Sheehan, ed. Constance M. Rousseau and Joel T. Rosenthal (Kalamazoo: Western Michigan University Press, 1998), 298–324, especially 300–7 on the status of “nurses.” 25. Rebecca Lynn Winer, “Conscripting the Breast: Lactation, Slavery and Salvation in the Realms of Aragon and Kingdom of Majorca, c. 1250–1300,” Journal of Medieval History 34 (2008): 174–77, 183–84; Shadis, Berenguela, 33–34. 26. For Berenguela’s “nurses,” see González, Alfonso VIII, 2:633–35, no. 367 (Estefanía); 2:907–909, no. 530 (Elvira). 27. “predicta domicella desponsationi continuo contradixit . . .” DRH, 246, bk. 7, ch. 24. 28. For Blanca’s nurse Sancha López, see González, Alfonso VIII, 2:941–43, no. 549; Francisco Simón y Nieto, “La nodriza de doña Blanca de Castilla,” Bulletin Hispanique 5 (1903): 5–8; González, Alfonso VIII, 3:941–42, no. 549. For Urraca’s nurse Sancha, see also Simón y Nieto, “La nodriza,” and Flórez, Las Reinas Catolicas, 522. The oldest published reference to this gift can be found in the Bullarium Ordinis Militiae Sancti Iacobi gloriossimi Hispaniarum Patroni . . . (1719; ed. Iohannis de Ariztia). González cites the Bol. Soc. Ex, but incorrectly—it should be 1903, no. 4, 32. The source for Simon y Nieto is the Bullarium, noted above. 29. González, Alfonso IX, no. 14. 30. Bianchini, The Queen’s Hand: Power and Authority in the Reign of Berenguela of Castile (Philadelphia: Pennsylvania University Press, 2012), 33. See also González, Alfonso VIII, 2:891–93, no. 520, which verifies Urraca’s return to her parents’ court and is discussed above. 31. Documentación . . . Burgos, 2, no. 203 (January 17, 1226). 32. Shadis, Berenguela, 153–54; Martín de Riquier, ed., Los Trovadores: historia literaria y textos, 3 vols. (Barcelona: Editorial Planeta, 1975), 2:1085–87, no. 216 (Giraut de Calansón). 33. The Latin Chronicle of the Kings of Castile, trans. Joseph F. O’Callaghan (Tempe: Arizona Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 2002), 36–37; CLRC, ch. 18, 53. 34. Joseph F. O’Callaghan, Reconquest and Crusade in Medieval Spain (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2003), 66. 35. Latin Chronicle, 37; CLRC, ch. 18, 53. 36. A survey suggests that in fact, there were almost no royal daughters anywhere in Europe who were of even an approximate age to marry Ferdinand, and were sufficiently unrelated to him. One possibility might have been Christina of Norway, daughter of King Sverre. 37. Jordan of Saxony, On the Beginnings of the Order of Preachers, ed and trans. Simon Tugwell (Dublin: Dominican Publications, 1982), 4. 38. Augusta Theodosia Drane, History of St. Dominic, Founder of the Friars Preachers (London: Longmans, 1891), 16–17. Lincoln suggests the girl in question may have been a granddaughter of Valdemar II, the daughter of Sophia of Denmark and Siegfried von Orlamunde, margrave of Brandenburg. “Una Cum Uxore mea,” 20–21. 39. Shadis, Berenguela, 91–95. 40. DRH, bk. 9, ch. 4, 284; CLRC, ch. 32, 76. Shadis, Berenguela, 95, nn. 127–28. For

“Happier in Daughters than in Sons” 99 Mafalda’s address in Portugal, see Maria Helena da Cruz Coelho, ed., O mosteiro de Arouca: do século X ao século XIII (Coimbra: Centro da história de universidade de Coimbra, 1977), nos. 243–44. 41. Shadis, Berenguela, 60, 95. 42. Shadis, Berenguela, 127–28; Bianchini, The Queen’s Hand, 124–25. 43. Bianchini, The Queen’s Hand, 18. 44. Latin Chronicle, 23; CLRC, ch. 11, 44. 45. Latin Chronicle, 74; CLRC, ch. 33, 76. 46. DRH, ch. 31, bk. 7, 253. 47. Bianchini, The Queen’s Hand, 102–3. For Berenguela’s nearness to her father, see the Treaties of Cabreros in 1206 and Valladolid in 1209. González, Alfonso VIII, 3:365–74, no. 782; 479–84, no. 845. 48. See the work of Shadis, Bianchini, referenced throughout. H. Salvador Martínez, Berenguela la Grande y so Época (1180–1246) (Madrid: Ediciones Polifemo, 2012); Georges Martin, Mujeres y poderes en la España Medieval (Alcala de Henares: Centro de Estudios Cervantinos, 2011). 49. In Blanca’s case, it is unlikely she had such an agreement; historians must look to the terms of the Treaty of Le Goulet, and then to Louis VIII’s will to discern Blanca’s marriage endowment. Her parents made no claims for her, but left this to Leonor’s brother John of England. For example, see Grant, Blanche of Castile, 30, 73, 113. For the French documents, see Layettes du Trésor des Chartes, ed. Alexandre Teulet, 5 vols. (Nendeln: Kraus Reprints, 1977), vol. 1, no. 578; vol. 2, no. 1750. 50. Hermínia Vasconcelos Vilar, D. Afonso II (Lisbon: Circulo de Leitores, 2005), 52. Lincoln also suggests the Alfonso may have expected Portuguese help in campaigns against the Almohads, as well as the Leonese. “Una cum uxore mea,” 18. 51. Frederico Francisco de la Figanière, Memorias das rainhas de Portugal (Lisbon: Typographia Universal, 1859), 75–77, 238, 330. 52. Testament of Afonso II, published in Ivo Castro, Curso de História da Língua Portuguesa (Lisbon: Universidade Aberta, 1991), 198. 53. And, according to the late Chronica do Rei D. Sancho II, accepting Berenguela’s choice for him as a wife his near relative, Mencía López [Mécia Lopes] de Haro. Ruy de Pina, Chronica do muito alto e muito esclarecido principe D. Sancho II (Lisbon: Ferreyriana, 1728), 2. 54. Blanca is first mentioned in her father’s charter of March 4, 1188; González, Alfonso VIII, 2:488–89, no. 492. 55. Until Lindy Grant recently uncovered new sources for Blanche’s career; see Queen of France, cited previously, Blanche’s most thorough biographer remains Berger, Blanche de Castille. See also Régine Pernoud, Blanche of Castile (New York: Coward, McCann and Geoghegan, 1975); Gerard Sivéry, Blanche de Castile (Paris: Fayard, 1990). 56. Urraca’s children Afonso and Leonor of Portugal; Berenguela’s daughter Berenguela and her children; Ferdinand III’s sons Felipe and Sancho, who studied at the Sorbonne. 57. Shadis, Berenguela, 105–9; Grant, Queen of France, 222–24. 58. Bianchini, The Queen’s Hand, 185–86. 59. Shadis, Berenguela, 13–14, 25–26; Bianchini, The Queen’s Hand, 185–86. The Book of Deeds of James I of Aragon: A Translation of the Medieval Catalan Llibre dels Fets,

100 Miriam Shadis trans. Damian J. Smith and Helena Buffery (Burlington: Ashgate, 2003, 2010): 130, 140, 345, 472. 60. For an analysis and transcription of the document produced at this cortes, see Thomas N. Bisson, “A General Court of Aragon (Daroca, 1228),” English Historical Review 92 (1997): 107–24. 61. Documentación . . . Las Huelgas, 2, no. 202. 62. Should we consider the foundation of Las Huelgas as one of Alfonso and Leonor’s progeny? Certainly, like Blanche and Berenguela, the convent has attracted a lot of scholarship, and one’s story cannot be told without reference to the other. See James D’Emilio, “The Royal Convent of Las Huelgas: Dynastic Politics, Religious Reform and Artistic Change in Medieval Castile,” Studies in Cistercian Art and Architecture 6 (Kalamazoo: Cistercian Publications, 2006); Rose Walker, “Leonor of England, Plantagenet queen of King Alfonso VIII of Castile, and her foundation of the Cistercian abbey of Las Huelgas: In imitation of Fontevraud?” Journal of Medieval History 31 (2005): 346–68; Andrea Gayoso, “The Lady of Las Huelgas: A Royal Abbey and Its Patronage,” Cîteaux: commentarii cistercienses 51.1–2 (2000): 91–116. 63. Lincoln notes, in considering the marriage projects of Alfonso and Leonor’s children that they “incorporated significant crusading pedigree into the family,” and even points to Constanza’s profession as a bride of Christ at Las Huelgas—a foundation which must be tied to the larger crusading project—as an example. “Una cum uxore mea,” 23. 64. See Bianchini, and Martin on the Infantazgo. On Las Huelgas as a development of or from the Infantazgo, see Walker, “Leonor of England, Plantagenet queen,” 359–62. 65. Documentación . . . Las Huelgas, 2, nos. 181–82. 66. Documentación . . . Las Huelgas, 2, no. 269. 67. Documentación . . . Las Huelgas, nos. 274 and 271. 68. Shadis, Berenguela, 4. 69. Gayoso, “The Lady of Las Huelgas,” passim. 70. González, for example, may be getting the idea that she was an abbess from the Cronica de Viente Reyes. González, Alfonso VIII, 1:211. Other historians have followed his lead. But see also Shadis, “Piety, Politics and Power: the Patronage of Leonor of England and her daughters, Blanche of Castile and Berenguela of León,” in The Cultural Patronage of Medieval Women, ed. June Hall McCash (Athens: The University of Georgia Press, 1996). It does seem that Constanza stepped into the abbess’s role temporarily in 1232, when she ordered the survey of the abbey’s property. See D’Emilio, “Royal Convent,” 208–9. 71. “la nobilísima Constanza, sierva de Dios y vigen[sic] limpísima, monja de Santa María la Real: hija del ilustrísima rey de Castilla.” A. R. Montero Torres, “Calendario, o martirologio, cisterciense, y Regla de San Benito, del Real Monaserio de Santa Maria de Las Huelgas de Burgos, que se conserva en el Museo Arqueológico Nacional de Madrid,” Cistercium 173 (1987): 441. All of the children of Alfonso and Leonor (except for those who died as infants) are noted in the calendar. Although it is often not too specific, because it distinguishes between “Alfonso de Castilla” and “Alfonso de Castilla y León”—and in some cases refers to Alfonso as the founder, it is pretty easy to see who is who here. Berenguela is not only “venerable” but “poderosa.” Montero Torres, “Calendario,” 441.

“Happier in Daughters than in Sons” 101 72. It is entirely unclear what else identifies the body Gómez Moreno refers to as belonging to Leonor. 73. Montero Torres, “Calendario,” 242. 74. María Jesús Gómez Bárcena, Escultura Gótica Funeraria en Burgos (Burgos: Diputación Provincial, 1988), 187–88, Figure 137 (222). 75. González, Alfonso VIII, 1:202; 2, no. 208; Bianchini, The Queen’s Hand, 18. “Plange pro rege Sancio / Quem terra, pontus, ethera / Ploratu plangent anxio. / Casum tuum considera / Parem plangens in filio, / Qui, etate tam tenera, Concusso regni solio / Cedes sentit et vulnera.” El Còdex Musical de las Huelgas (Música a veus dels segles xiii–xiv), ed. Higini Anglès, 3 vols. (Barcelona: Institut D’Estudis Catalans, 1931), 2:160; 3:390–91. 76. Shadis, Berenguela, 40–41; Bianchini, The Queen’s Hand, 288–89, no. 104. “In cuius morte fletus patrie, luctus inconsolibis genitori, quia in ipsum tanquam in vite speculum contemplabatur, erat enim expectation populorum; sic enim eum Dominus honestauerat ut etiam ab omnibus amaretur, et quod etas in adolescentibus non permitit, iam in ipso gracia dispensabat.” DRH, bk. 7, ch. 36, 258. 77. Gómez Bárcena, Escultura Gótica, 38, 193; Elizabeth Valdez del Alamo; “Lament for a Lost Queen: The Sarcophagus of Doña Blanca in Nájera,” in Memory and the Medieval Tomb, ed. Elizabeth Del Alamo and C. Stamatis Pendergast (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2000), 43–80. 78. Montero Torres, “Calendario,” 443–44. 79. Shadis, Berenguela, 149–51. 80. Nancy Goldstone, Four Queens: The Provençal Sisters Who Ruled Europe (New York: Penguin, 2007). 81. Songs of Holy Mary of Alfonso X, The Wise: A Translation of the Cantigas de Santa Maria, trans. Kathleen Kulp-Hill (Tempe: Arizona Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 2000), no. 221. 82. Ibid. 83. Ibid, no. 265.

Chapter five A Wall and a Shield: Alfonso VIII and the Military Orders Sam Zeno Conedera, S.J.

T

he military orders had an important place in Alfonso VIII’s Castile as defenders and settlers of the frontier with Islam, contingents in major campaigns and rapid response forces in smaller engagements, caretakers of the sick and liberators of captives, occasional keepers of the peace between quarreling Christians, and as intercessors before the heavenly court. Their mission, and the structure of life that was meant to fulfill it, came from the hierarchical Church, but Alfonso’s mediating role between the hierarchy and the orders meant that royal prerogative was normally decisive for how that mission was carried out. Alfonso’s patterns of giving show a clear preference for Calatrava and Santiago over their “universal” counterparts, the Hospital and the Temple. The king saw the Iberian orders as a wall and a shield of Christendom, a view that the orders themselves shared, but within the framework of their particular type of religious life.

Knights of Christ, Lords of Castile The presence of the Temple and the Hospital in Castile predates Alfonso’s reign, and he was not responsible, strictly speaking, for the foundation of either Santiago or Calatrava. The Castilian monarch was nonetheless deeply implicated in the early history of both communities, which coincided with the creation of an authentic defensive and offensive frontier with Islam. The period 1158–1164 is shrouded in mystery for Calatrava, thanks to problems with Ximénez de Rada’s account and the murkiness of other evidence. The most likely explanation of what happened during this time is that warriors recruited for the defense of Calatrava lived together at the fortress with Cistercian monks transplanted from Fitero. The tension of this arrangement was overcome when the monks departed, leaving the military men in charge. Calatrava received its first confirmations and forma vivendi from the Cistercian Order and the papacy in 1164, which coincides with Alfonso’s first, fairly modest donation to the community: a mill in Deizan, near Toledo. His first donation of a castle (Chillon) came in 1168, but it was to be shared with Count Nuño Pérez de Lara, who was regent during this stage of the royal minority. The young king and his tutors placed limits on the security responsibilities they gave to fledgling military communities: the donation of the castle of Oreja to the fratres de Caceres contains the 102

A Wall and a Shield 103 proviso that they must hand it over to a royal garrison in the event of a civil war. The fact that Alfonso was offering anything to a Leonese military confraternity, however, indicates his interest in controlling it. In 1171, shortly after the brethren of Cáceres made their pact with the archbishop of Santiago, Alfonso offered them the castles of Mora and Oreja, along with some houses and cash. The castle of Alarilla on the Tagus followed in 1172, along with five percent of the royal stipends to knights and vassals in 1173. The crowning move was the offer of the fortress and town of Uclés to the militia of Santiago in 1174, a clear attempt to convince the brethren to relocate their headquarters to Castile. This aggressive courting of Santiago, even before the papacy had recognized it, indicates the importance of royal initiative in the establishment of the Iberian military orders. Although Ferdinand II of León continued to favor the community, he does not seem to have competed very hard to prevent its “Castilianization,” a process that Ayala Martínez regards as substantially complete by 1177. From the 1170s onward, Alfonso would make Calatrava and Santiago crucial to his efforts to expand, defend, and settle the frontier, showing a clear preference for these orders over the Hospital and the Temple. A closer look at the king’s donation patterns shows that this was so. I count a total of fifty-five charters issued by Alfonso to Calatrava, forty-seven to Santiago, twenty-eight to the Hospital, and just one to the Temple. There are, besides, other documents in which one or more military orders feature prominently, such as Alfonso’s will and several peace treaties. It is hard to say whether Santiago or Calatrava enjoyed greater favor with the king. Arguably the possession of castles is a primary indicator, and here Santiago had the advantage: it received eleven to just six-and-a-half for Calatrava, and for one of these castles, the latter order had to pay 400 maravedís. Each order received a roughly equal number of towns and villages: seven and five for Calatrava, five and five for Santiago. Both received significant financial privileges or cash donations. There are ten individual instances of this for Calatrava, compared to fifteen for Santiago. These include such things as direct cash payments, like the offer in 1171 of 2,000 maravedís to Santiago, or a portion of various royal revenues like portazgo, salt, river transportation fees, etc. The king also shared ecclesiastical revenues over which he had control, or a cut of the royal war spoils. Surely Santiago can claim the most unusual donation: an annual whale. The financial privileges given to each of these orders diverge in two ways. In the first place, the king marked a number of them specifically for the support of Santiago’s ransom hospitals. Second, Calatrava received four charters granting rights of conquest, that is, guarantees of certain properties or privileges over whatever they could take from the Moors. This suggests that Alfonso sought to incentivize Calatrava’s military activities in a way that he was unwilling to do for Santiago. These four charters indicate some hard-nosed negotiating on Alfonso’s part. While the first one, granted in 1173, promises Calatrava the possession of any castles it can take from the Moors, by the following year this

104 Sam Zeno Conedera, S.J. had been reduced to one-fifth of any castles. But since additional rights and privileges were specified in this second donation, such as a tenth of the rentas reales, perhaps the king was trying to spread out Calatrava’s compensation over a wider range of resources, rather than simply reduce it. Sometime after 1180, Alfonso did reduce the financial privileges that Santiago had enjoyed at the puerta (toll) of Bisagra. Alfonso handsomely rewarded both communities in his will of 1204. Santiago was promised 4,000 maravedís and a third of the king’s arms and armor, while Calatrava was also to receive a third of the weapons and 10,000 maravedís for the repair of Salvatierra, which by this time had become the linchpin of the frontier. The picture changes quite dramatically with the Temple and the Hospital. There is only one extant charter for the Temple, and it records an exchange rather than a donation. The only significant offering that Alfonso made to the order was a sixth of his weapons, as stipulated in his will. Alfonso was more generous to the Hospital, but the actual donations differed considerably from what Santiago and Calatrava received. He offered the Hospital only two castles, Consuegra and Uclés, and the latter he took back so that he could place it in the hands of Santiago. The Hospital received seven towns and some salt revenues, but only one financial exemption (of some properties in Toledo from tribute), no cash, and no rights of conquest. Like the Templars, the Hospitallers had to make do with half of a third of the king’s weapons. They do seem to have acted as royal creditors on at least one occasion, since the king gave them two properties in payment of a debt of 7,500 aureos. Neither the Hospital nor the Temple figured into Alfonso’s plans in the way that Santiago and Calatrava did, as the language employed by his chancery shows even more clearly. The preambles of royal charters frequently offer explanations of the king’s generosity towards its recipients. Twenty-eight charters for Calatrava and twenty-two for Santiago identify one or more motives on Alfonso’s part. The patterns vary for each order. For Calatrava, the two most commonly cited motivations are the defense of Christ’s name/cross and the defense of Christians (which is also articulated as defense of the faith and/or Christendom). Taken together, these motivations appear a total of twenty-three times. Twice Alfonso refers to the order as “a wall and a shield” for the Christian faith. The charters often (twelve times) specify that the brethren carry out this activity unto the shedding of their blood. There are about the same number of references to implicitly or explicitly offensive actions to extend the faith or fight or conquer the Muslims, who are named as Saracens or pagans. On four occasions, the charters justify the donation on account of the king’s duty to honor knights (milites), especially militantes Deo. Only once, however, does Alfonso say that Calatrava defends his realm as distinct from some explicitly Christian category. The preambles are also forthright about the order’s religious vocation. There are nineteen references to the king’s duty to honor religious and/or honest men, which in this context appear to be synonymous terms and are typically used together. There are four references to their vows and eleven to the fact that they

A Wall and a Shield 105 have left behind the world, its pomp, or even worldly arms. On one occasion, their observance of the Cistercian Rule is mentioned. In many cases, the king justifies his donation in the same terms that he would for any other religious order: for the salvation of his own soul and/or the souls of his parents, which are mentioned twenty-three times. The defeat at Alarcos provides special considerations in a document of 1196, where Alfonso cites the brethren’s losses at this battle as the motive for giving them the Order of Trujillo’s possessions in Ronda. The same basic set of motivations is present for Santiago, although here there is greater terminological variation. The most prominent motivation is the salvation of the king’s soul and/or those of his parents. The king wishes to honor religious/honest men (seven) and notes half a dozen times that the brethren of Santiago have left the world behind. They are credited with defending Christ, his cross, his name, or the Christian religion no fewer than nine times, whereas their military action pro patria appears only once. Most of these references are to explicitly or implicitly defensive action, but in one donation an offensive element appears. The very lengthy preamble of a donation in 1185 refers to driving out the enemies of the Cross, oppressing Saracen perfidy, and expanding the Christian religion, and says that the order was founded to persecute a pagan people. This remarkable preamble has many particular themes, such as the brothers’ remembrance of the Lamb slain for mankind’s sake, their sweating in a ceaseless struggle, and their making of themselves unconquerable walls. Most strikingly, it refers to the shedding of their blood “under the law of martyrdom,” a concept that appears but rarely in the military orders’ own texts. Alfonso’s donations for both Santiago and Calatrava sometimes use the phrase “in consideration of piety/mercy/divine remuneration.” In two donations for Santiago’s ransom hospitals, the king refers to the goodness of this particular work and its benefit to those who support it. Once he says, somewhat implausibly, that the increase of temporal benefits will help the brethren adhere more closely to their Redeemer. If the language of the donations shows Alfonso’s appreciation for the hybrid character and mission of Santiago and Calatrava, as well as their place within a larger crusading agenda, then the scarcity of similar language in his charters directed to the Hospital and the Temple is striking and highlights the different priority he gave to them. In the twelve donations to the Hospital in which Alfonso cites one or more motives, nearly all of them belong to one of the following three categories: his own salvation or his parents’, the obligation to support religious/honest men, or regard for piety or mercy. Two donations refer to the order’s special care of Christ’s poor in Jerusalem, but there is no mention of military activities or specific contributions to Iberia. The minor orders of Mountjoy, Montfrag, and Trujillo also merit brief attention. In 1185, after the death of Ferdinand II, Alfonso used some contingents of military brethren from the Leonese community of San Julián del Pereiro (later the Order of Alcántara) in his campaigns in southwestern Castile, and

106 Sam Zeno Conedera, S.J. placed a garrison of them in the newly acquired fortress of Trujillo. This decision created a kind of Castilian “branch” of the order and indicates that the king was pursuing the same strategy he had used with Santiago. In 1188, Alfonso gave the town of Ronda and implicitly confirmed the order’s possession of Trujillo. He made two more donations to the brethren in 1194 and 1195 before the battle of Alarcos wiped them out. One of these includes a long preamble that refers to their rejection of worldly pomp for the defense of the Christian faith against the savagery of the pagans, as well as to their religious status. The Order of Mountjoy was primarily an Aragonese project undertaken by a disaffected former member of Santiago, but the community received its name from the properties it obtained in the Latin East. Mountjoy formed a Castilian branch known as Montfrag, headquartered in its eponymous fortress, after the Aragonese members were incorporated into the Temple. Alfonso supported Montfrag with a total of four charters. Despite some resistance, the Castilian members were eventually incorporated into Calatrava, with Alfonso once again playing a crucial role. The castles and financial privileges that Alfonso granted were by no means random, but allowed the orders to undertake security responsibilities along the frontier in a comprehensive way. As Rodríguez-Picavea has shown, Calatrava’s fortresses were linked with control of major lines of communication, especially between Toledo and Córdoba. The confirmation of the order’s lands issued in 1189 delimited its own lordship as well as the frontier with the Almohads. Santiago was likewise given castles, financial privileges, and other properties that facilitated the definition of a territorial space along the Islamic border. The orders joined the royal host on major campaigns, like that of Cuenca in 1177, and Calatrava at least enjoyed the opportunity to undertake military action of its own, as shown in the charters granting rights of conquest. The king was always careful, of course, to preserve his own prerogatives: Calatrava’s first conquest charter includes the proviso “that you serve me as king and lord.” The military orders’ status as knights and landowners also gave them a stake in the larger affairs of the realm. The king clearly expected the brethren of Santiago to be on hand, for in 1182 he granted them a regular ration while staying at the royal court. Although the masters of the military orders did not become regular signers of royal charters until after Alfonso’s reign, they did figure into treaties and other major agreements from this period. Frequent quarrels between Castile and León led to multiple peace settlements. The first one dates from 1181, in which each king gave five castles to Santiago, and five to the Hospital, in order to secure the peace of the border. The agreement stipulated that if either order failed to keep faith, or if the Hospital’s prior in Jerusalem later nullified the agreement, all that they possessed in Castile would be confiscated. Two years later, another treaty was necessary, and this one made reference to the previous decision to place castles in the hands of Pedro Fernández of Santiago and Pedro Arias of the Hospital. It commented further that both orders promised not to give up these castles, unless, in the Hospital’s case, the prior

A Wall and a Shield 107 of Jerusalem forbade it. The last treaty with León, dating from 1209, did not mention the military orders by name, but it did propose that all the bishops, abbots, masters, and prelates of orders convene to confirm the agreement and excommunicate anyone who refuses to obey. It is highly likely that “masters” referred to the heads of the military orders, and thus acknowledged their place among the lords spiritual of the realm. The king’s 1188 agreement with Frederick Barbarossa arranged for Alfonso’s daughter Berenguela to marry Conrad I. In the event of Alfonso’s premature death, the various powers of the kingdom, including the barons and princes, the cities, the master of Calatrava, and the commander of Uclés, together with their brethren, were to ensure that Berenguela be given over to Conrad as wife. Alfonso also named Fernando Díaz of Santiago and Gutierre Ermildi of the Hospital as executors of his 1204 will, though the choice of the former may have had more to do with Fernando’s status as the king’s personal friend than with his membership in the order. Alfonso’s policy towards the military orders fluctuated over time. His principal bequests of castles and privileges to Calatrava were more or less complete by 1180, giving way to relatively minor grants throughout the 1180s and 1190s. He did make one major move regarding Calatrava during this time: intervention in the community’s relationship to the Cistercian Order. This had been a problematic question from the earliest times, and Alfonso wanted to replace Morimond as mother abbey with the Castilian house of San Pedro de Gumiel. This did not happen, but Morimond did effectively delegate its visitation responsibilities to San Pedro, which issued the first statutes for Calatrava around 1194. This turn of events must be seen as a victory for Alfonso in bringing about, at the practical level, a further “Castilianization” of the order. With Santiago, the king’s policy is more consistent, as the order continued to receive castles and important financial privileges after 1180. The defeat at Alarcos, however, radically altered the picture. Both orders lost significant manpower and many of their possessions, including crucial castles. Calatrava’s situation was so dire that in 1196 Alfonso gave the order properties that had formerly belonged to the now-defunct Trujillo community, citing as motivation his sympathy over Calatrava’s losses. The brethren only recovered their position in the king’s frontier strategy when they took the fortress of Salvatierra in 1198. From this time until the great Almohad offensive of 1211, Salvatierra was, in the words of the Moroccoan chronicler Ibn ʿIdhārī, “the right hand of the lord of Castile,” the key to the border defense and a staging point for Christian campaigns. During this time, Calatrava played a complex game with Alfonso and the Almohads, carrying out attacks during times of royal truce. The king favored both orders with various donations during the years leading up to the campaign of Las Navas, the casus belli for which was the loss of Salvatierra after a three-month siege. The great host that assembled at Toledo in May 1212 had as one of its initial objectives the recovery of Calatrava. Alfonso VIII’s own letter relating the victory to Pope Innocent III speaks of a disagreement that broke out over the best way to retake the fortress. Some wanted to mine the walls, but the king himself

108 Sam Zeno Conedera, S.J. worried that this course of action would make it impossible for the brethren to refortify their old headquarters. It is almost certain that they were involved in these deliberations and offered counsel about how to achieve the desired end. Ximénez de Rada’s account of Las Navas places brethren of the Temple, Hospital, Santiago, and Calatrava together in the second line of the Castilian column, under the leadership of Count Gonzalo Nuñez de Lara. Although most contemporary narrative sources pay little attention to the orders’ participation in combat, it appears from the Kalendario de Uclés, Ximénez de Rada, and the sixteenth-century chronicler Rades y Andrada that Masters Pedro Arias of Santiago and Gómez Ramirez of the Temple were killed, and that Master Rodrigo Díaz of Calatrava was wounded. Santiago and Calatrava both accompanied the king in additional attacks immediately after Las Navas, for which they were rewarded. In the donation of Castroverde in November 1212, Alfonso thanks Santiago for its service to him at Las Navas, “when you held my banner like a vigorous man.” The evidence indicates that the military orders were in the thick of the fighting, and that the king was grateful for it.

Mediator Dei Any assessment of Alfonso VIII’s relationship to the military orders must take into account two related scholarly debates concerning Santiago and Calatrava. The first is to what extent the orders were either Iberian or international in scope; the second is to what extent they were under the inspiration and direction of either the peninsular monarchs or the papacy. All parties acknowledge the importance of both popes and monarchs, and that the orders certainly possessed properties and proposed some campaigns outside of Iberia, even if most of their activities took place within the peninsula. Ayala Martínez and Rodríguez-Picavea argue for an Iberian and royalist orientation, while Philippe Josserand, Jose Manuel Rodríguez García, and Anna Mur i Raurell maintain the papal, internationalist position. The model of the military-religious life that I call “ecclesiastical knighthood” may be helpful in sorting out the debate. Put briefly, this model maintains that the military orders’ way of life represented the consecration of knighthood to God in accordance with the ideals of the Gregorian Reform and the crusading movement, with the help of practices and norms taken from the monastic tradition. Qua knights, the military brethren were the apotheosis of the pious exercise of arms in defense of the Church. Qua religious men, they represented a way of life in which knighthood, understood as the exercise of arms on horseback, operated as a prior form ordering the various aspects of the monastic tradition that they appropriated. The military orders, as Josserand has insisted, were extensions of crusading logic, which had a strong internationalist bent, and they depended on papal authority and sponsorship for their standing as ecclesiastical corporations. The very structure of the Church in the late twelfth century, with its international orders and “Gre-

A Wall and a Shield 109 gorian” papacy, posed obstacles to a national church completely subservient to the monarch. Yet the military orders’ status as a consecrated knighthood set them apart from other religious communities, and situated them more closely to the activities and prerogatives of kings and nobles. Moreover, Santiago and Calatrava were tied to the phenomenon of local military confraternities on the Iberian frontier, and were thus from the outset implicated in the pursuit of the Reconquest prior to their recognition by the Holy See. Not only was the Reconquest unmistakably a royal initiative, but the kings of Castile took a strong and immediate interest in incorporating Santiago and Calatrava into their strategy, and accordingly lavished support upon them. The orders’ mission from the Church was already something close to the king’s interests and prerogatives as the war leader of the realm, and therefore he was able to exercise a strong role in determining how that mission was carried out. It is best to describe Alfonso’s role vis-à-vis the orders in terms of mediation. Alfonso did not nullify the ecclesiastical character of the military orders, which depended upon the papacy for their constitution and mission as the strong right arm of the Church. Yet warfare was always the task where the limitations of the Gregorian ideal of libertas ecclesiae were most clearly manifest, since this was properly the sphere of temporal rulers. Like any other ecclesiastical body, the military orders had responsibilities to the kingdoms in which they resided, but they also needed someone to mediate their particular vocation of warfare. Alfonso did just this by inserting himself at various levels of connection between the orders and other entities, including the Castilian bishops, the papacy, and lay donors. Numerous charters witness Alfonso settling disputes and assigning revenues and terms between the orders and other parties, and there are also instances of prominent laymen making donations with the king’s encouragement. In the case of Calatrava, this mediating role extended also to its relationship to the Cistercian Order, as discussed above. By the latter thirteenth century, the kings of Castile began extending their mediating role to the relationship between the masters and the other members of the order, a process that culminated in the sixteenth century with a complete royal takeover. While Alfonso VIII had nothing like the role of the modern state as an allencompassing mediator of communities, the new legitimization of rule that he articulated entailed a new role for himself as mediator vis-à-vis the features and institutions of ecclesiastical life that emerged during the twelfth century. The Iberian military orders were more susceptible, or amenable, to this development than most others. As new institutions, they needed justification and material support, and Alfonso provided both. His lesser enthusiasm for the Hospital and the Temple owed mostly to their strong territorial and missionary basis outside Castile. The most important reason why the Iberian orders were so open to the king’s mediating role was that their primary mission was close to the king’s own core responsibilities: the defense of the realm and the campaign against the Saracens. Only with a weak monarchy, or in times of civil war, could

110 Sam Zeno Conedera, S.J. the orders have acted with much independence. Since their early rise to power and stability was largely dependent on the king’s own strength and favor, as was their recovery after Alarcos, they were in no way disposed to desire a weak monarch. In addition, the popes were mostly acquiescent to the king’s leadership over the orders. In the crucial formative decades, the Holy See issued fairly little documentation for Santiago, and even less for Calatrava. The three proposals during Alfonso’s reign that the orders pursue campaigns outside the peninsula or permanently establish themselves on the frontlines of other crusade theaters, à la the Hospital or the Temple, came to nothing. This need not indicate, however, a failure of papal designs. Purkis has pointed out that a major stimulus for the original application of crusading privileges to Iberian campaigns was the Holy See’s concern that enthusiasm for the Latin East might draw away too many able warriors from the peninsula. Alfonso’s mediation vis-à-vis the orders was not, at least up to a point, incompatible with the papacy’s wider vision of crusading, if this meant better support for the fight against Iberian Muslims. Such support was not to be taken for granted, as one of the Holy See’s primary concerns from the 1190s until the Las Navas campaign was the Iberian rulers’ lack of enthusiasm for the crusading cause, and their corresponding preference to fight with each other. Yet if the rulers could be coaxed into turning their aggression southward, the papacy might be quite satisfied with the idea of the Iberian orders being largely under the direction of their kings, and thus unavailable for extra-peninsular campaigns. In donations to the orders, Alfonso’s chancery placed the accent on the defense of Christ, Christians, and Christendom rather than on the defense of the realm, a fact that supports the “internationalist” argument for the orders’ raison d’être. Yet the internationalist crusading agenda relied upon the existence of groups that were primarily committed to the fight on local fronts, and this is the best way to characterize Calatrava and Santiago, their properties outside Iberia notwithstanding. Things might have turned out differently, had Santiago’s initial ambitions been realized, or had Alfonso’s efforts to insert himself as mediator failed, in which case the orders might have acquired a stronger papal/internationalist profile. Yet the royal/Iberian position better explains their activities and commitments as they played out in practice.

The King’s Good Servants It would be a mistake, however, to look at the military orders during the reign of Alfonso VIII solely from the perspective of king or pope, for they did have their own sense of mission, their own priorities and prerogatives, and their own disputes that were not coterminous with someone else’s agenda. In the first place, the orders’ very existence owed to their members’ desire to consecrate their knighthood to the divine service, which bespeaks wider horizons than the merely geopolitical. Care of the sick and ransoming of captives were secondary but important aspects of the military-religious life, especially for Santiago,

A Wall and a Shield 111 which already had two hospitals by 1175. Santiago understood these Hospitaller activities as extensions of the principle of charity that informed their participation in combat. The orders sought whenever possible to avoid fighting fellow Christians, no easy task during the decades on either side of 1200. The evidence is limited, but most of it points to the success of their efforts to avoid offensive campaigns against their co-religionists. The fact that the kings of León and Castile were willing to place castles under the orders’ control to secure peace treaties is a recognition that the special nature of their warfare placed them in some way above these dynastic conflicts and made them trustworthy. Alfonso’s reign also witnessed the orders’ efforts to adjudicate disputes among themselves and forge bonds of fraternity and mutual cooperation through the signing of hermandades, or pacts. A total of five of these belong to the period, involving the Temple, Hospital, Santiago, Calatrava, and Alcántara. Overall, they witness a movement from mutual suspicion, to the establishment of each order on its own footing, to expressions of fraternity and concrete ways to realize such a relationship. The 1202 pact between Santiago and Alcántara offers the following commentary on the orders’ shared way of life: “And let us consider ourselves brothers in all things, for so it is, as we have the religious habit and we have cut our long hair for the service of God.” Bernard of Clairvaux would have smiled upon this rejection of worldly vanities, which was fundamental to the orders’ way of life. Undoubtedly the military orders in the age of Alfonso VIII were a wall and a shield for Castile, and the king’s good servants . . . but God’s first. Notes 1. I follow Ayala Martínez and Rodríguez-Picavea in employing the term “universal” in place of “international” to describe these orders. Carlos de Ayala Martínez, Las órdenes militares hispánicas en la Edad Media (siglos XII–XV) (Madrid: Marcial Pons, 2003), 21–22; Enrique Rodríguez-Picavea, Los monjes guerreros en los reinos hispánicos: Las órdenes militares en la Península Ibérica durante la Edad Media (Madrid: La Esfera de los Libros, 2008), 45. 2. Ximénez de Rada places the origin of Calatrava in the short reign of Sancho III, while Santiago began as a military confraternity in the Leonese town of Cáceres. The Kalendario de Uclés explicitly commemorates Ferdinand II as “our founder”: “Obiit Donus Fernandus bonae memoriae Rex Legionensis, fundator (Esto es, en Leon) Ordinis Militiae Beati Jacobi, Era 1226.” Juan Antonio Fernández, Noticias históricas sacadas del Archivo de Uclés, de sus sepulcros y calenda, y del testamento del infante don Enrique con un Cronicón hasta ahora no publicado. Opúsculos Castellanos y Latinos de Ambrosio Morales, vol. 2 (Madrid: Benito Cano, 1793), 22. 3. Carlos de Ayala Martínez, “Frontera y órdenes militares en la Edad Media castellano-leonesa (siglos XII–XIII),” Studia Historica. Historia Medieval 24 (2006): 48. 4. For a discussion of these problems, see Theresa Vann, “A New Look at the Foundation of the Order of Calatrava,” in On the Social Origins of Medieval Institutions: Essays in Honor of Joseph F. O’Callaghan, ed. Donald Kagay and Theresa Vann (Leiden: Brill, 1998), 93–113; Luis Rafael Villegas Díaz, “De nuevo sobre los orígenes de la Orden de Calatrava,” Revista de las Órdenes Militares 1 (2001): 13–30; Luis Rafael Villegas Díaz, “El Císter y la fundación de la Orden de Calatrava,” Cistercium 238 (2005): 165–95;

112 Sam Zeno Conedera, S.J. Francisco Rafael de Pascual, “El Císter frente a los milites y las órdenes militares: análisis de las fuentes cistercienses,” Cistercium 238 (2005): 47–113. 5. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:109–10, no. 62. 6. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:175–78, no. 103. 7. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:275–77, no. 162. 8. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:268–69, no. 157; 275–77, no. 162; 384–86, no. 168; 307–309. no. 184. 9. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:323–24, no. 195. His overtures were aided by the community’s losses in León and Portugal during the Almohad offensive of 1173–1174. Rodríguez-Picavea, Los monjes guerreros, 84. 10. Carlos de Ayala Martínez, “Guerra santa y órdenes militares en época de Alfonso VIII,” in La Península Ibérica en tiempos de Las Navas de Tolosa, ed. Carlos Estepa Díez and María Antonia Carmona Ruiz (Madrid: Compobell, S.L., 2014), 127. 11. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:865–66, no. 502. 12. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:268–69, no. 157; 198–99, no. 116; 568–70, no. 338; 491–92, no. 300; 3:52–53, no. 591. 13. BC, 20; González, Alfonso VIII, 2:917–19, no. 535. 14. The town of Motrico in Guipúzcoa paid this tribute to the king, which he turned over to the military brethren in 1200. González, Alfonso VIII, 3:229–30, no. 694. 15. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:568–70, no. 338; 677–78, no. 391; 3:306–7 no. 745. 16. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:305–7, no. 183; 331–32, no. 200; 364–65, no. 220; 493–94, no. 301. 17. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:305–7, no. 183; 331–32, no. 200. 18. José Luis Martín, Orígenes de la Orden Militar de Santiago (1170–1195) (Barcelona: Consejo superior de investigaciones científicas, Institución Milá y Fontanals, 1974), no. 109, 292–93. 19. González, Alfonso VIII, 3:341–47, no. 769. 20. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:689–90, no. 399. 21. Ximénez de Rada’s story of Calatrava replacing the Temple as guardians of the frontier acquires a symbolic significance in light of the king’s patterns of giving. 22. It is worth recalling that the original donation of Uclés was made during Alfonso’s minority and appears to be the initiative of Ferdinand II, whose name appears first in the letter. Carlos de Ayala Martínez, ed., Libro de privilegios de la Orden de San Juan de Jerusalén en Castilla y León, (siglos XII–XV) (Madrid: Instituto Complutense de la Orden de Malta, 1995), 254–55, no. 91. 23. Alfonso gave four of these towns in a single donation in 1162, during the royal minority. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:97–99, no. 54. 24. Ayala Martínez, Libro de privilegios, 346–47, no. 165. 25. Ayala Martínez sees these charters, particularly the ones issued between 1174 and 1185, as representing a crucial stage in the consolidation of Castilian holy war ideology. Carlos de Ayala Martínez, “El discurso de la guerra santa en la cancillería castellano-leonesa (1135–1230),” in Orígenes y desarrollo de la guerra santa en la Península Ibérica: palabras e imágenes para una legitimación (ss. X–XIV), ed. Carlos de Ayala Martínez and Patrick Henriet (Madrid: Casa de Velazquez, 2016), 155-86. See also Ayala Martinez’s contribution to the current volume. 26. “Murum et clipeum.” González, Alfonso VIII, 2:331–32, no. 200; 364–65, no. 220. 27. González, Alfonso VIII, 3:267–68, no. 719.

A Wall and a Shield 113 28. González, Alfonso VIII, 3:164–66, no. 658. 29. “Condolensque paupertati uestre eo quod domum uestram maiorem de Calatraua uestrasque omnes fere res ex infortunio de Alarcos, in quo mecum intrauistis, amisistis, ubi diuine potentie, peccatis exigentibus nostris, non placuit nos obtinere uictoriam.” González, Alfonso VIII, 3:164–66, no. 658. 30. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:749–51, no. 435. 31. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:745–47, no. 432. By contrast, Alfonso’s donations refer only three times to the brethren of Santiago shedding their blood. The order’s rule mentions martyrdom once: “As perfect charity casts out all fear, so the said brethren, by exposing indifferently themselves and everything they have to many kinds of dangers and martyrdoms for the exaltation of the Christian faith and for the defense of the brethren, show that they love God with all their mind and soul, and their neighbor as themselves.” Enrique Gallego Blanco, The Rule of the Spanish Military Order of St. James: 1170–1493 (Leiden: Brill, 1971), 85. 32. Four and seven times, respectively. 33. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:794–95, no. 463. 34. Ayala Martínez, Libro de privilegios, 275–77, no. 108; 309–11, no. 134. The omission of any reference to military activity is particularly striking in a confirmation of the Hospital’s property in July 1214, which is identified (not altogether accurately) as the year after the king defeated the king of Morocco at Las Navas de Tolosa, by the mercy of God and the help of his vassals. This would have been an opportunity to thank the Hospital specifically, but the king does not do so. Ayala Martínez, Libro de privilegios, 394–95, no. 210. 35. Carlos de Ayala Martínez, “Las Órdenes Militares en Extremadura en la Edad Media,” in Las Órdenes Militares en Extremadura: I Congreso de la Federación Extremadura Histórica (Garrovillas de Alconétar, 13 y 14 de marzo de 2015), ed. Daniel Rodríguez Blanco (Garrovillas de Alconétar: Federación Extremadura Histórica y la Fundación Extremeña de la Cultura, 2015), 26. 36. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:855–56, no. 497. 37. González, Alfonso VIII, 3:112–13, no. 625; 139–41, no. 641. 38. “Regali sane maiestati expedit et ad salutem animarum et Christianitatis provectum accedit viros robustos et constantes in fide contra infidelium perfidiam in locis que assidua per eos importunitate infestantur constituere; presertim ad Dei laudem et divinum huiusmodi obsequium tales debent assumi qui, divina inspiratione, spreta seculari pompa, sub voto et dispositione regulari pie ac simpliciter viventes, in defensionem Christiane fidei se murum indefensum contra saevitiam paganorum opponunt.” González, Alfonso VIII, 3:139–41, no. 641. 39. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:683–85, no. 396; 3:166–68, no. 659; 382–83, no. 787; 507–9, no. 859. 40. For a summary of how this came about, see Rodríguez–Picavea, Los monjes guerreros, 97–100. 41. Enrique Rodríguez-Picavea, “Monarquía castellana: Alfonso VIII y la Orden de Calatrava,” in Alfonso VIII y su época: II curso de cultura medieval, Aguilar de Campóo, 1–6 octubre, 1990 (Madrid: Fundación Santa María la Real Centro de Estudios del Románico, 1992), 367. 42. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:915–17, no. 534; Rodríguez-Picavea, “Monarquía castellana,” 368.

114 Sam Zeno Conedera, S.J. 43. Ayala Martínez, “Guerra santa y órdenes militares,” 127; Rodríguez-Picavea, “Monarquía castellana,” 365. 44. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:305–7, no. 183. Alfonso was prone to use feudal language to describe his relations with other corporate bodies, including the military orders. Estepa Díez has identified five such examples. Carlos Estepa Díez, “El reino de Castilla de Alfonso VIII (1158–1214),” in Poder real y sociedad: Estudios sobre el reinado de Alfonso VIII (1158–1214), ed. Carlos Estepa Díez, Ignacio Álvarez Borge, and José Maria Santamaria Luengos (León: Universidad de León, 2011), 44. 45. The military orders’ presence in the término de Toledo is well established by 1207, when the king instructs all towns and villages to give service to the municipal council of the city. He singles out, among others, those towns and villages that belong to Salvatierra, Santiago, the Hospital, and the Temple. González, Alfonso VIII, 3:391–93, no. 793. 46. Alfonso promised to provide for as many as eight knights in the grand commander’s retinue when the latter visited. Any member of the order who needed to visit the king would receive necessities for himself and his horse. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:672, no. 388. 47. For the kingdom of León, there is an 1181 confirmation of donations to Santiago signed by the Master of the Temple and Prior of the Hospital. Their names come after the bishops and before the temporal lords. Antonio Francisco Aguado de Córdova, Alfonso Antonio Alemán y Rosales, and José López Agurleta, eds., Bullarium equestris ordinis sancti Iacobi de Spatha (Madrid, 1719) (hereafter BS), 24. From the reign of Alfonso X, the masters of the military orders regularly appear as witnesses to royal charters. Manuel González Jiménez, “La Corona y las Órdenes Militares castellanoleonesas,” in Lux Hispaniarum. Estudios sobre las Órdenes Militares, ed. Fray Javier Campo (Madrid: Real Consejo de Ordenes Militares, 1999), 77. 48. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:614–23, no. 362. 49. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:701–8, no. 407. 50. Twice, then, the kings of León and Castile explicitly recognized that the local Hospitallers had superiors across the sea to whom they were beholden, highlighting once again their preference for local military orders. 51. González, Alfonso VIII, 3:479–84, no. 845. 52. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:857–63, no. 499. 53. The will identifies Gutierre as prior of the Hospital, but makes no mention of Fernando’s connection to Santiago. González, Alfonso VIII, 3:341–47, no. 769. For more on Fernando’s relationship to the king, see Carlos de Ayala Martínez, “Alfonso VIII y la Iglesia de su reino,” in 1212, un año, un reinado, un tiempo de despegue, ed. Esther López Ojeda, XXIII Semana de Estudios Medievales (Logroño: Instituto de Estudios Riojanos, 2013), 290–91. 54. Rodríguez-Picavea, “Monarquía castellana,” 364. 55. Rodríguez-Picavea, Los monjes guerreros, 81. 56. Derek Lomax, “Algunos estatutos primitivos de la Orden de Calatrava,” Hispania 23 (1961): 483–94. 57. Ayala Martínez, “Guerra santa y órdenes militares,” 123. 58. Martín, Orígenes, 10. It has been suggested that new papal confirmations were issued in 1199 in order to “refound” Calatrava. Francisco Ruiz Gómez, Los orígenes de

A Wall and a Shield 115 las órdenes militares y la repoblación de los territorios de la Mancha (1150–1250) (Madrid: CSIC, 2003), 251. 59. González, Alfonso VIII, 3:164–66, no. 658. 60. “Él es la mano derecha del señor de Castilla y si la cortamos se le quita este guía y su presunción de tener otros y no se dirigiría a ellos, pues se alzará la prueba de su debilidad.” Ambrosio Huici Miranda, ed., Colección de crónicas árabes de la Reconquista, vol. 2, Al-Bayān al-Mugrib fi Ijtisār Ajbār Muluk al-Andalus wa al-Magrib por Ibn ‘Idārī al-Marrākušī (Tetuán: Instituto general Franco de estudios e investigacion hispano arabe, 1953), 267–68. 61. Alfonso seems to have turned a blind eye to these violations of his truces when it suited him. See Martín Alvira Cabrer, “Prendiendo el fuego de la guerra: Operaciones militares en las fronteras cristiano-almohades entre 1209 y 1211” in Iglesia, guerra y monarquía en la Edad Media: Miscelánea de estudios medievales, ed. José Peña González and Manuel Alejandro Rodríguez de la Peña (Madrid: CEU Ediciones, 2014), 139–92. The question of the military orders’ duty to respect royal truces came up multiple times in the early thirteenth century. Despite Honorius III’s opinion that the orders were not bound to such royal agreements, it appears in practice that the orders rarely dared to cross the king. Demetrio Mansilla, ed., La documentación pontificia de Honorio III (1216–1227) (Rome: Iglesia Española, 1965), 421–22, no. 569. 62. Between 1198 and 1212, the two orders each received eight donations or confirmations from Alfonso. 63. “Cumque nos istud nulla ratione vellemus aceptare, rex Aragonum et transmontani habentes super hoc consilium uiderunt uillam esse munitam muris et antemuralibus, profundis fossatis et excelsis turribus, et qod non posset capi nisi suffoderentur muri et sic ruerent, quod cederet in graue damnum fratribus Salueterre, quorum fuerat, et non posse, si necessitas incumberet, retineri.” González, Alfonso VIII, 3:568, no. 897. DRH, bk. 8, ch. 9, 270. 64. This, as García Fitz notes, was not the place of honor in battle. He also says it is impossible to ascertain the orders’ numerical contributions, which were probably rather modest. Francisco García Fitz, Las Navas de Tolosa (Barcelona: Ariel, 2005), 199–200. 65. Antonio Fernández, Noticias históricas, 26–27; DRH, bk. 8, ch. 3, 261–62; Francisco de Rades y Andrada, Chronica de las Tres Ordenes y Cauallerias de Sanctiago, Calatraua y Alcantara (Toledo: Juan de Ayala, 1572), facs. ed. (Barcelona: El Albir, 1980), Chronica de Sanctiago, 24v; Rodríguez-Picavea, Los monjes guerreros, 179. 66. Santiago and Calatrava received, respectively, Eznavexore and Dueñas. 67. “Pro multis, et gratis obsequiis, quae mihi diu, ac fideliter exhibuitis, necnon et pro servitio plurimum commendando, quod mihi in campestri praelio fecistis, cum Vexillum meum sicut vir strenuus tenuistis, cum Almiramomeninum Regem Cartaginis devici.” BS, 91. 68. A donation of Henry I in 1216 refers implicitly to this service, saying that the donation is made “pro multis et strenuis factis et seruiciis que, tam patri meo domino A., felicissime memorie regis et ducum Cartaginis uictori exhibuistis inclito, quam mihi in eius decessu in sarracenorum frontariam defendendo et hedificiis et militibus muniendo, et modis aliis quam plurimis fecistis et adhuc cotidie exhibere non cessatis.” González, Alfonso VIII, 3:734–36, no. 1008.

116 Sam Zeno Conedera, S.J. 69. Carlos de Ayala Martínez, “La presencia de las Órdenes Militares castellanoleonesas en Oriente: una valoración histórica,” in As Ordens Militares e as Ordens de Cavalaria entre o Occidente e o Oriente: Actas do V Encontro sobre Ordens Militares (15 a 18 de Fevereiro de 2006), ed. Isabel Cristina F. Fernandes (Palmela: Câmara Municipal de Palmela, 2009), 49–72; Rodríguez-Picavea, Los monjes guerreros; Philippe Josserand, “In servitio Dei et domini regis: Les Ordres Militaires du royaume de Castile et la défense de la Chrétienté latin: frontières et enjeux de pouvoir (XIIe–XIVe siècles),” in Identidad y representación de la frontera en la España medieval (siglos XI–XIV), ed. Carlos de Ayala Martínez, Pascal Buresi, and Philippe Josserand (Madrid: Casa de Velázquez, 2001), 89–111; Jose Manuel Rodríguez García, “El internacionalismo de las órdenes ‘hispanas’ en el siglo XIII,” Studia Historica: Historia Medieval 18–19 (2000–2001): 187–209; Anna Mur i Raurell, “Relaciones europeas de las Órdenes Militares Hispánicas durante el siglo XIII,” in España y el “Sacro Imperio”: Procesos de cambios, influencias y acciones recíprocas en la época de la “Europeización (siglos XI–XIII),” ed. Julio Valdeón, Klaus Herbers, and Karl Rudolf (Valladolid; Universidad de Valladolid, 2002), 180–271. 70. Sam Zeno Conedera, Ecclesiastical Knights: The Military Orders in Castile, 1150–1330 (New York: Fordham University Press, 2015). 71. Josserand, “In servitio,” 96–100. 72. Ayala Martínez, “Guerra santa y órdenes militares,” 117–21. See also the work of Pierre Manent for a philosophical reflection on the theme. Pierre Manent, Metamorphoses of the City: On the Western Dynamic, trans. Marc LePain (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2013), 310–23. 73. Lawrence G. Duggan, Armsbearing and the Clergy in the History and Canon Law of Western Christianity (Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2013), 119–20. 74. Helen Nicholson documents the close ties of all military orders to power elites, especially monarchs, saying that they sometimes took on the appearance of royal militias. Helen Nicholson, “Nolite confidere in principibus: The Military Orders’ Relations with the Rulers of Christendom” in Élites et ordres militaires au Moyen Âge: Recontre autour d’Alain Demurger, ed. Philippe Josserand, Luis F. Oliveira, and Damien Carraz (Madrid: Casa de Velazquez, 2015), 261–76. 75. He settled a dispute between Santiago and Count Fernando in the mid-1180s, and an agreement between Santiago and the church of Palencia from the same period was made cum consensu Domini nostri Regis Adefonsi. Martin, Orígenes, 355–56, no. 174; BS, 32. Pedro Ordoñez and his wife María say that their donation to Santiago of the town of Quintanilla in 1189 was made at the advice of Alfonso. Martín, Orígenes, 427, no. 252. Calatrava came to an agreement with the archbishop of Toledo concerning tithes and sacrilege fines in Alfonso’s presence. BC, 20. The king gave permission to the town of Soria to make donations to Calatrava in 1202 as an exception to his policy of forbidding new donations to religious communities, on account of the order’s special service to him. “Et quamuis ego prohibui quod nulli darent alicui Ordini aliquas hereditates, huic ordini, quoniam fratres eiusdem ordinis stant assidue in Dei servitio et meo et in regni mei defenssione.” González, Alfonso VIII, 3:267–68, no. 719. The king oversaw the signing of an agreement in 1211 to secure Santiago’s reception of the castle of Santa María de Albarracín, which took place in the Hospital’s church near Madrid. González, Alfonso VIII, 3:557, no. 889. In a donation to Santiago in 1187, Pedro Fernández de Castro identifies Alfonso as his king, though without attributing to him the impetus for the donation. The donation is curious because, among the numerous

A Wall and a Shield 117 possessions that Pedro promises to the order if he dies without issue is Lignum Domini. Did he really own a fragment of the True Cross? Martín, Orígenes, 402, no. 224. 76. For a discussion of this topic, see Estepa Díez, “El reino,” 58–62. 77. Ayala Martínez, “Guerra santa y órdenes militares,” 134–35. Alexander III confirmed Santiago’s possessions in Castile in 1180, as did Lucius III shortly thereafter for the kingdom of León. Lucius also issued two instructions to Santiago and confirmed its foundational bull. Urban III encouraged donations to the order’s ransom hospital in 1187. Martín, Orígenes, 293–94, no. 110; 317, no. 130; 322, no. 135; 333–34, no. 148. Gregory VIII confirmed Calatrava’s possessions and dependence on Morimond in the same year. BC, 22–26. Otherwise the papacy seems to have done nothing regarding the order prior to Innocent III, whose fairly modest interventions in the life of both communities had little effect on their relation to Alfonso. 78. These included a clause in an agreement between Santiago and the militia of Avila to pursue the fight against the Moors to Africa and Jerusalem; an offer of property to Santiago by Bohemond III of Antioch in 1180; and a proposal by the Abbot of Morimond to Innocent III that Calatrava relocate to the Latin East during a period of truce in the first decade of the thirteenth century. Martín, Orígenes, 226–28, no. 52; BS, 22; BC, 39–40. I do not believe the orders had a serious intention of carrying out any of them, and even if they had, Alfonso would surely have intervened to stop them. 79. William Purkis, Crusading Spirituality in the Holy Land and Iberia, c. 1095–1187 (Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 2008), 124–38. 80. The two hospitals are already mentioned in the “Primitive Rule,” which probably dates to 1172. “Duo hospitalia domus, quorum unum est in forntera, alterum in strata beati Jacobi.” Jean Leclercq, “La vie et la prière des chevaliers de Santiago d’après leur Règle primitive,” Liturgica 2 (1958): 353. Alfonso founded another for the order in Toledo in 1181. BS, 21–22. 81. The thirteenth-century version of Santiago’s Rule contains an “Exhortation to Encourage the Brethren to Overcome the Infidels,” which explains all the order’s activities in terms of charity. Derek Lomax, La Orden de Santiago (Madrid, 1965), 223–24, app. 1; Gallego Blanco, Rule, 94–99. 82. For discussions of the evidence, see Martín, Orígenes, 64–65; Rodríguez-Picavea, Los monjes guerreros, 226–28. 83. These were signed in 1178, 1182, 1188, 1202, and 1206–1210. Extended discussions of the pacts can be found in Joseph O’Callaghan, “Hermandades Between the Military Orders of Calatrava and Santiago during the Castilian Reconquest, 1158–1252,” Speculum 44 (1969): 609, reprinted in The Spanish Military Order of Calatrava and its Affiliates, V (London, 1975); Feliciano Novoa Portela, “Acuerdos entre caballeros. Las hermandades de las órdenes militares en la Castilla medieval (siglos XII–XIV),” in El contrato político en la corona de Castilla: Cultura y sociedad políticas entre los siglos X al XVI, ed. François Foronda and Ana Isabel Carrasco Manchado (Madrid: Dykinson, 2008), 65–95; Conedera, Ecclesiastical Knights, 112–40. 84. “E que en todo nos hayamos por hermanos, ca ansi es ello, pues tenemos hábito de religión y habemos cortado la longura de nuestros cabellos para el servicio de Dios, e ansí lo prometemos e juramos.” Bonifacio Palacios Martín, ed., Colección diplomática medieval de la Orden de Alcántara (1157?–1494), 2 vols. (Madrid: Dykinson, 2000– 2003), 1:24, no. 45.

Chapter six Holy War and Crusade during the Reign of Alfonso VIII Carlos de Ayala Martínez

T

he crusade was one of the means, and probably the most significant, by which links were forged between the Christian kingdoms of the Iberian Peninsula and the rest of Western Christendom. Christendom was the heir of early medieval versions of the old Roman Empire. Since the days of Charlemagne attempts had been made to connect the peninsula and the rest of Christian Europe, from which it was at times almost disconnected. In the mid-eleventh century, the schism between East and West provided the possible framework for a greater connection, with the appearance in the Latin Christian West of the expression Christianitas, designating the whole Christian people led spiritually by the pope. The connection between the peninsula and this new European reality was still very weak in the eleventh century. But the encouragement of Iberian projects by the pre-crusade popes Alexander II and Gregory VII invited a reaction from Alfonso VI of Castile and León, who brought his domains into line with the papacy and Latin Christendom through the acceptance of the Roman rite from about 1080. Although he followed a very different path, another ruler, Aragon’s Sancho Ramírez, had gone to Rome just over ten years before to be invested as a miles sancti Petri. If we focus on the western regions of the peninsula, this initial connection with Christendom was accelerated significantly by Emperor Alfonso VII (1125‒1157), who, desiring to strengthen his ties with Rome, decided to play an effective role on the peninsular front of the so-called “Second Crusade,” the first papal project that established crusade goals not centered on the Holy Land; in fact, as a result of this participation, Alfonso VII would obtain what was the then still unusual papal award of the golden rose. However, never before had a Spanish king demonstrated such a clear crusading policy as that of Alfonso VIII. The crusade sealed connections and established commitments that would turn the kingdom of Castile into a model frontier region for the rest of Christendom. In the following pages we will analyze the crusading dimension of Alfonso VIII’s reign, and try to contextualize it within the framework of relations with the whole of Christendom. To do this, we will examine three significant periods during the reign, divided by the three events marking the confrontation with Islam: the conquest of Cuenca in 1177, the defeat at Alarcos in 1195, and the victory of Las Navas de Tolosa in 1212.

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Holy War and Crusade during the Reign of alfonso VIII 119

The Early Phases of the Reign (1158–1175) When Alfonso VIII ascended the throne in September 1158, he was three years old. His childhood and adolescence were very much conditioned by the expansionist crusading policy designed by his father, Sancho III (1157–1158). The Lara family maintained a defensive border strategy because its members, who took over the regency, had a very strong interest in the border region of the kingdom. The Lara possessed the regency and the person of the king, and Count Manrique Pérez, who held Toledo, was especially influential. He had earned his reputation in the crusades of Alfonso VII, especially in the conquest of Almería. In fact, the author of the Poema de Almería defined the count as “a sincere friend of Christ” who “enjoyed war” and was an expert in it. The power of the Lara family extended to many holdings in Extremadura, while members of the lineage also forged links with the newly created Order of Calatrava, the linchpin of the crusade program of Sancho III. During the Lara-controlled regency the important synod chaired by Archbishop Juan of Toledo, took place in 1166 in Segovia. Linehan, the editor of the proceedings of that assembly, argued that there was a strong cooperation among the archbishop, the Castilian church, and the Lara, in order to shore up the fragile authority of the king. The deployment of crusading language within the synod was a part of that strategy. Thus the bishops threatened to excommunicate those who undermined the integrity of the kingdom, while at the same time promising its supporters the penitential benefits of those who went to Jerusalem. This was all intended to ensure the common good of Christians and the destruction of the enemies of the cross of Christ, and to prohibit, under threat of anathema, any vassal of the king from entering into the service of Muslims. The regency theoretically ended in November 1169 when Alfonso VIII was proclaimed of age upon turning fourteen, but in practice the Lara remained in control of the government until at least mid–1175. Until that date, when the king turned twenty, it is impossible to identify a crusading project, which can be associated specifically with Alfonso VIII; prior to that point, the policies of Sancho III were used as a cover to justify expansion, which benefited the Lara in the frontier zone. It should be remembered that throughout the regency of Alfonso VIII, the Almohads were not in a position to launch an offensive against Castile, which would have forced the implementation of the crusading plans of Sancho III or the development of alternative plans. Problems of instability in the Maghreb and especially in al-Andalus dominated the attention of the Almohad Empire between 1165 and 1171. It was only the arrival of the Caliph Abū Ya’qūb in the peninsula in June 1171 that saw the diminution of Andalusian “independence”; all practical resistance ended just a year later when the Andalusian leader, Ibn Mardanīsh, vassal of the king of Castile, died.

120 Carlos de Ayala Martínez Shortly thereafter took place the only military emergency that befell Alfonso’s kingdom at the hands of the Muslims prior to the king personally assuming the reins of power. That was the siege of Huete of 1172, which, although recorded by various sources, is difficult to interpret. The action is described in great detail by Ibn S.āh.ib al-S.alā, who witnessed the events. His detailed and very extensive account is the only one to highlight the careful jihadist framing of the campaign by the Caliph Abū Yaʾqūb, and the inability to successfully complete the campaign because of problems with provisions, the demoralization of the army, and adverse weather conditions. Most importantly, his account tells us about the defender of Huete, a son of Count Manrique de Lara, and about the impending intervention of “emir Alfonso, the small.” The other Muslim chronicler describing the event, ʿAbd al-Wāhid al-Marrākusī, is very brief, alluding to the reason for the target of the campaign (that is, because “the grandees of the kingdom of Alfonso and the foremost of his troops” were in Huete) and to a miracle in the Christian ranks that allowed the besieged to strengthen their resistance against the Muslims and forced them to retreat, although not before signing a seven-year truce with Alfonso. The English chronicler, Roger of Howden, was apparently also well informed of the details of the campaign, but wrong about the outcome, which he turned into a Muslim victory. Howden did, however, associate the initiation of the caliph’s campaign with the death of Ibn Mardanīsh, and provides a detail of great interest: the great Almohad operation against the kingdom of Castile was the result of counsel provided by the king of León, whose relations with and goodwill toward the caliph are indicated. Meanwhile, the Anales Toledanos I give us two interesting pieces of information. The first accords with the tradition of the miracle, which is implied in the work of Ibn S.āh.ib al-S.alā and clearly stated by ʿAbd al-Wāhid al-Marrākusī: an opportune rainstorm that allowed the besieged Christians, tortured by thirst, to resist the Almohad attack. Also in this version, it was the rain “that destroyed the stores of the king of the Moors.” The second piece of information is of much greater significance, as the annalist associates the final withdrawal of the caliph with the crusade preached in Toledo by the cardinal-legate (Hyacinth Bobone) who encouraged the organization of a powerful army, which, although it did not enter into combat, caused the flight of the Almohads. In their retreat, they took control of the regno del Rey Lop, that is to say Murcia. The connection that the Anales Toledanos made between Huete and the presence of the papal legate at that time in the peninsula and his concession of “grandes solturas,” allow us to connect this episode with the crusade appeal in an undated document of Cardinal Bobone, in which the cross was formally assumed—signum crucis pectori nostro apponentes—as a result of the entreaties that he received from the kings and clergy of Spain. That request came from the Spanish bishops and abbots, as well as the Templars and the Hospitallers, to help carry out an operation against mazemutos that the cardinal himself had planned to lead.

Holy War and Crusade during the Reign of alfonso VIII 121 If all this information is taken together (with proper caution), the events of Huete can be summarized as follows. First, it is perfectly reasonable to think that this first intervention of the Almohad caliph against Castile was the result of a suggestion of his ally, the king of León, who was at that time very close to the Almohads and needed to keep the caliph (who was eager to launch an attack against the infidel) away from León’s own theater of operations. Moreover, the very vulnerable southeast flank of the kingdom of Castile was an area of strategic interest to the caliph, who wanted to assert control over the territories of the late Ibn Mardanīsh, an ally of the Castilians, whose domains bordered the Christian kingdom. The target of the caliph’s operation was therefore not surprising, even though ‘Abd al-Wāhid al-Marrākusī tried to justify it through the presence in Huete of the cream of the Castilian aristocracy and the bulk of its troops. It is unsurprising that there was a forceful Castilian reaction. Huete was part of the network of frontier holdings controlled by the powerful Lara family. Ibn S.āh.ib al-S.alā tells us that the head of the town was a son of Count Manrique, and indeed one of his sons, Pedro Manriquez, was documented as holding the tenancy, although at a somewhat later date. It is therefore not surprising that his uncle, Count Nuño Pérez, head of the family at that time, rushed alongside ‘little Alfonso’ to free his nephew, as the Andalusian chronicler indicates. Moreover, the Almohad attack on the Castilian border came as the cardinal-legate in the peninsula, Hyacinth Bobone, was trying to unite its kings in order to combat Islam, following the specific instructions of Alexander III. The initial approval of the Order of Santiago in the Castilian territory of Soria, and the desire to increase its capacity for action, speaks to the crusading nature of the papal legation. It is not surprising, therefore, that the Castilian response could count on the support and approval of the cardinal-legate (who probably also promised indulgences). But to suggest that Hyacinth’s undated crusade bull definitely corresponds exactly with the events of Huete is another matter. For the cardinal was not then in Toledo, as claimed by the Anales Toledanos, but rather in Leonese lands, immobilized by illness in Zamora. Moreover, it seems unlikely that a complex call to crusade (which curiously excludes the newly instituted Order of Santiago) could have been the immediate response to what was a surprise attack. It does not seem, therefore, that Huete was the immediate aim of Hyacinth’s crusade initiative. In any case, none of this constitutes a sustained Christian offensive. Rather, what we find in these final years of the regency is a still disorganized Christian side undertaking isolated initiatives with minimal planning. In this regard, the information that Ibn S.āh.ib al-S.alā provides us about an attempted conquest of Cuenca in 1172, or of an isolated raid in the Córdoba region in the spring of 1173, is illustrative. We are therefore far from being able to talk about a crusading program in this first part of Alfonso’s reign. Moreover, Ibn S.āh.ib al-S.alā also informs us that, in the year after the campaign of Huete, following a devastating

122 Carlos de Ayala Martínez raid in the lands of Toledo and Talavera, the Christians sought truces with the Almohads. The Lara did not possess the political will to keep the spirit of crusade alive, but rather their interest lay in protecting their patrimonial possessions in the vast frontier regions. Indeed, the crusading program only began to take shape when Alfonso VIII reached his majority, freeing him from the Lara and inaugurating an ideologically well-grounded military plan of action, which would have as its first objective a feat of arms that later royal propaganda would describe as spectacular and devastating: the conquest of Cuenca in 1177.

The First Crusade Objective: Cuenca and Its Significance (1176–1190) The conquest of Cuenca was the Castilian monarchy’s response to the bull Merore pariter in which, in March 1175, Pope Alexander III made a call to the Christians of the peninsula to combat the Almohads—massamuti—whose persecution of the faithful of Christ had considerably increased. The papal call was the result of the efforts of Cardinal Hyacinth. Following the information received in Rome from the legate, the Holy See wanted to encourage decisive action on the peninsular frontier of Christendom. The nature and content of this bull has been much debated, and the strictly crusading dimension has been called into question (or at least its status compared with the Holy Land), but the papal text makes clear reference to the meritorious and penitential character of the combat for Christ, and offers the corresponding indulgences. For the pope it was clear that the battle in the peninsula was part of the defense of Christendom; in that same year (1175) he publicized the newly created religio of the Order of Santiago, whose members, authentic athletas Christi, reverenced the sign of the cross that they wore on their chests and were fighting in defense of Christendom, particularly on its borders versus Hyspaniam. Therefore, the objective of Cuenca, which served to inspire young King Alfonso and which allowed him to construct a whole political and ideological program, was clearly based on the papal idea of crusade. This does not alter the fact that the specific target of Cuenca still helped to consolidate the Lara family interests. Ibn ʿIdhārī associated the operation against Cuenca with the decision of “the foreign traitor, Nuño, lord of Toledo and Alfonso’s protector” to violate the truces agreed with the Almohads just after Caliph Abū Ya’qūb had left peninsular soil. At that moment it was the political strategy of the regency that still guided Castilian arms towards Cuenca. Ibn S.āh.ib al-S.alā referred to a pact between Ibn Mardanīsh and officials of the kingdom of Castile under which the Andalusian leader would have given the land he possessed around Cuenca to the Christians. The connections between the Andalusian leader and the Lara were a reality that translated into advantages for both sides. Yet, despite this influence, the truth is that Alfonso took over the campaign of Cuenca, aiming to establish it as a crusading project of his own court, which

Holy War and Crusade during the Reign of alfonso VIII 123 would act as a building block for his personal government. That is certainly how Chancellor Juan, bishop of Osma, saw it in his Chronica regum Castellae, which appears to depict the conquest of Cuenca as “a blooding ceremony marking the young king’s arrival at full royal manhood.” But it is Archbishop Rodrigo who really helps us to understand the extent to which the conquest of Cuenca was the cornerstone of a political and ideological project, fully controlled by the king, which served as the foundation of his personal crusading program. The ideological expression of this program appears, effectively, in two consecutive chapters of Don Rodrigo’s De Rebus, the 26th and 27th chapters of Book VII. The first of these chapters tells the story of the conquest of Cuenca, while the second glorifies the military orders. The beginning of chapter 26 refers to the minority of the king, and the crisis that accompanied it. Here Rodrigo makes the fidelitas of the king’s subjects the key to the recovery of the realm. It was this fidelitas that allowed the king to fight with success against the realm’s Christian enemies within the peninsula, who had taken advantage of the weakness of his minority to raise claims against or directly invade Castilian territory. The fidelitas of his subjects, therefore, became the antidote to the political dissolution and territorial disintegration of the realm, or, to put it another way, the key to the strength of the kingdom. It was this fidelitas, which was an expression of the will of God, the “power of the most high”—virtus Altissimi— which empowered the king to begin the fight for the faith—bella fidei—against the infidels. Rodrigo’s chapter then describes the victorious actions of the people accompanying King Alfonso in achieving the objective—the expansion of the frontiers of the faith (fidei terminos dilatavit). Fighting for the faith, therefore, was synonymous with the expansion of the frontiers of Christendom (a common motive in crusader discourse). Following this, the archbishop focuses on the siege of Cuenca, a city presented as a bastion of the Arabs: munimentum Arabum. The chronicler adds details on the progress of the campaign, such as the use of siege machinery or the shortage of provisions, but essentially what Rodrigo is doing is describing the efforts of the king almost as an act of asceticism—neglexit delicias seducentes—which transforms him into someone who is radically zealous in God’s name: zelatus est nomen glorie. It is this zealotry that leads to victory and to the neutralization of any potential allies of the infidel. The fame of the king and his name paralyzes his enemies and leads to the final triumph. Cuenca is delivered and the king makes of it a royal city and a see of the faith. The city is forged by the sword of a unifying faith: in it different peoples come together, becoming a single people of greatness. The work of expansion and fortification, which the chronicler relates to us, translates into admiration on the part of the Christians and fear on the part of the Arabs, before a city whose glory radiates from the person of the king and whose holiness is an expression of its episcopal dignity. It is not difficult to hear in some of this discourse, elements of which are also

124 Carlos de Ayala Martínez present in other chronicles, the echo of another important text, the prologue of the Fuero de Cuenca, which especially helps us to understand the crusade perspective of Alfonso VIII and his closest collaborators. The prologue of the Fuero was written fifty years earlier, probably in 1189–1190, by clerics who were enthusiastic for the royal crusading propaganda born of Cuenca’s conquest. Thus, while De rebus speaks of the recovery of the unity and strength of the kingdom before the aggression of its neighbors, the prologue of the Fuero, in its initial verse section, speaks of the victory against all those aggressors, and in the second, mostly prose section of the text, portrays Alfonso VIII as the regum iberiensium potentissimus. There are many significant parallels between the lines that the prologue of the code dedicates specifically to the conquest of Cuenca and those of the fourth paragraph of the prose section of the code. Here, and in the archbishop’s text, we find three ideas of particular significance. The first is that the glory of the king transcends the borders of his kingdom, arousing fear in the enemies of the name of Christ; the second is that this fear is a result of his meritorious deeds, such as the siege and conquest of Cuenca, an action to which the king dedicated his efforts almost to the point of martyrdom—cruciatus multis angustiis; and finally, as a result of this, we see the liberation of the city, which was a place greatly favored by the king, his Alfonsopolis, with whose inhabitants he has established a special bond. Replete with colorful language and biblical references—“Babylonian captivity,” “yoke of the pharaoh”—these passages appear to serve as a basis for Archbishop Rodrigo’s account. In any case, the language of the crusade of the central part of Alfonso VIII’s reign lived on through the consciences of his ministers well into the thirteenth century. Indeed, it was after the conquest of Cuenca that this particular language began to develop, although not immediately. While the siege concluded in September 1177, it was only from April 1179 that the “micro-stories” that accompany the dating-clauses of the documents of the royal chancery begin to indicate the change. Rather than the brief descriptive summary we find at first—serenissimus rex prefatus Aldefonsus Concam cepit—from April 1179 we find an innovative development: anno tercio ex quo rex Aldefonsus supranominatus Concam Christianitati mancipauit. And “liberation for the benefit of Christendom” is the message that, with slight variations, the chancery systematically used until the end of 1182 when referring to the conquest of Cuenca. This universalizing dimension—Christendom—used repeatedly in royal propaganda to explain the liberating efforts of Alfonso VIII against the Muslims, caught the attention of Peter Linehan, for whom it was obvious that following the capture of Cuenca, and especially after 1180, Castilian ideological discourse focused on highlighting the king’s image as a champion in defense of Christendom. Clearly the intention of this new propaganda was not solely a matter of the crusades. Its potential to enhance the position of the king in the peninsula, in which he aspired to play a leading role, and to develop an ambitious policy beyond the Pyrenees, is also evident. But it is no less clear that

Holy War and Crusade during the Reign of alfonso VIII 125 crusading was also a part of the projection of this political image, and that its objective was to create a solid foundation for the power of the king of Castile within the peninsula, based on his victory against Islam. Without understanding this we cannot really understand the political aspects of the issue of coinage in the kingdom. The minting of new gold maravedís, with captions in Arabic, dates from 1172, following the death of Ibn Mardanīsh, when the end of the flow of money provided by the Murcian ruler to Castile forced the kingdom to replace it with a coin of their own. Alfonso’s new propaganda campaign was presented on those coins, “christianizing” the religious proclamations of the Almoravids, including a significant addition from the 1180s, when the king’s name is added to the “imam of the Church” of Rome in the central legend of the face of the coin. Is the aim to associate the monarch, “prince of Catholics,” with the leadership of Christendom? It is quite possible, and certainly the subtle association, aimed at people who could understand Arabic, has no other explanation than as crusade propaganda. Pascal Buresi did not hesitate to associate these unusual coins, minted based on Almoravid patterns, with a conscious break from what they had represented— the new Almohad power. Nevertheless, the royal chancery was the best vehicle for this new crusading discourse following the conquest of Cuenca, and documents aimed specifically at the various military orders reflect this very clearly. One of the “micro-stories” was the explanatory description of the concession to the Order of Santiago, in 1185, of Espechel, on the banks of the Tagus. In this document, referring to the brothers of Santiago as recipients of the award, the short text faithfully reflects a substantial part of the Castilian discourse: the battle in which the knights of Santiago were involved, up to the martyr-like shedding of their own blood, was the defense of Christendom, although it is clear that Christendom becomes parceled out at a specific place, since the patria is none other than the kingdom of Castile. Effectively, the military orders of Spanish origin, who were loyal collaborators of King Alfonso, were designed as key players in this propagandistic ideology in which the defense of Christianity became the justification for political power. Not surprisingly, when, years later, Archbishop Rodrigo offered the authorized version, the crusading discourse of Alfonso VIII culminated with the idealized presentation of Santiago and Calatrava—chapter 27 of Book VII of De Rebus— which he placed after his account of the siege and conquest of Cuenca. There we are told that in the lands adjacent to the new royal city the king established these boldest of people in order to destroy the Arabs. And from that moment the discourse of the archbishop focuses on Úcles, capud ordinis of Santiago, where it was installed as “persecutor of the Arabs” and “defender of the faith”; their possessions extended to the Tagus and guaranteed, thus, the sanctification of the land and the triumph of religion. Then Rodrigo refers to the other major militia, Calatrava, which King Alfonso helped to consolidate and to enrich, so

126 Carlos de Ayala Martínez that its development was “the glory of the monarch and its discipline the crown of the prince.” The chapter concludes by listing the austere guidelines for the religious life of the orders, consecrated ad defensionem patrie. The configuration of a political-ideological program of action based on the idea of crusade and the defense of Christendom on the Spanish frontier was therefore completed more or less during the decade following the capture of Cuenca. The “international” context of the campaign greatly favored this development. For this was Alfonso VIII’s response to the bull Merore pariter of 1175, promulgated by Alexander III, who was also eager to use the crusade in his confrontation with the German emperor and the schismatic pope whom the emperor had set up in Rome. Cardinal Hyacinth also probably did a lot to consolidate the image of the king of Castile as the peninsular champion of the faith. Concerned about the treaty between the king of León and the Almohads, the legate favored the installation of the Order of Santiago in the lands of Castile, and influenced Alexander III so that he placed his trust in the young Castilian king as a Christian leader. Certainly his expectations were not disappointed: the conquest of Cuenca was the first success Christendom could enjoy following the fiasco of the “Second Crusade.” This explains why Castile made such use of the capture of Cuenca in its propaganda. In this difficult period for the papacy the peninsula began to appear as an alternative and a recompense for the threatened and declining Christian presence in the Holy Land. While, in 1179, by staging Lateran III, Alexander III had demonstrated his theocratic triumph over the German emperor; shortly thereafter the gloomy picture for the Holy Land had become even darker. William of Tyre, in a well-known passage at the end of his chronicle—he ended his story in 1184—says that the situation of the Christians there had become more desperate for one simple reason: from the days of Zengī until Saladin, the Islamic world had been able to weave around the crusader states a powerful unity, which now threatened to suffocate them. Under these circumstances, the gaze of the papacy remained fixed on the peninsula. Lucius III, a man who thought constantly about the crusade, worked during his short pontificate to keep the Hispanic crusading front alive, and Gregory VIII, although he had to respond to the defeat of Hattin by calling a new universal crusade, likewise did not forget the Spanish frontier of Christendom. But it was Clement III who really tried to motivate a peninsular offensive, as he was convinced that such an effort was a necessary part of the answer that Christendom needed to give in response to the fall of Jerusalem. Indeed, in a telling letter dated May 1188 and addressed to the archbishop of Toledo and his suffragans, Clement clearly connected the two goals. While the pope does not explicitly refer to the relations between Saladin and the Almohad Caliphate, which were at this time a reality, nevertheless in his mind the condition that had caused the fall of the East and which could also precipitate catastrophic results in the West was the same: the disunity of the Christians. Clement III

Holy War and Crusade during the Reign of alfonso VIII 127 proposed a military response in which the bishops would take a leading role and for which he did not hesitate to authorize the use of clerical incomes. For Alfonso VIII, the pope’s initiative could not have been especially enticing. It is true that the pope recognized the decisive role of the peninsula at this dramatic moment for Christendom, but the papal plan did not refer to the kings, except in insisting that they end their disputes, and somehow seemed to ignore the role of royalty in the leadership of peninsular offensives. The pope himself, who had little idea about the political realities of the peninsula, spoke a little while later of the possibility of foreign intervention in Spanish territory if the bishops and kings were unable to create the conditions necessary to initiate the desired peninsular front for the crusade. Indeed Clement III’s words had an unwelcome interventionist flavor at the very time that Alfonso’s counselors were giving him the recognition he wanted in the prologue to the Fuero de Cuenca.

The Difficult Years Surrounding Alarcos (1191–1200) Therefore, we may not be too far off the mark if we conclude that the shock of Hattin did not have in the peninsula—and particularly in Castile—the effect desired by the pope. We can see that the language of crusade in the documentation of the chancery, without disappearing, diminishes from that time, and that the “defense of Christianity” is not promoted as intensely by the king’s notaries, at least when compared with what had happened in the decade after the conquest of Cuenca. In this context, it is no wonder that Alfonso VIII did not bat an eye when the new pope, Celestine III, days after being consecrated in April 1191, sent the archbishop of Toledo and his suffragans a denunciation of those Spanish kings who entered into truces with the Muslims, while the rest of Christendom strove to avenge the insults Islam had perpetrated against Jerusalem. Indeed Alfonso VIII was one of these unsupportive peninsular kings. Only a year earlier, in May 1190, the Castilian monarch, if we are to believe the Almohad caliph himself, had requested truces, agreed to pay a tribute, and even, if need be, to break off hostilities against his Christian neighbors. The indifference shown by the king to the pope’s requests forced the latter to try a different strategy. Celestine III put in motion a new plan that, from his point of view, could not fail: without relaxing the requirement for an immediate offensive against the Muslims, he based his new approach not so much on responsibility for the defense of Christendom, as in the urgent need to recover lands that the Muslims had unjustly taken away from Christians, a task that the papacy had long recognized as the sole responsibility of the peninsular kings. Convincing Alfonso VIII of this was one of the objectives that brought the cardinal-deacon Gregory of Sant’Angelo to the peninsula as legate from June 1192 to May 1194. Indeed, in a letter dated at the Lateran in late October 1192 and addressed to the archbishop of Toledo and his suffragans, Celestine III showed

128 Carlos de Ayala Martínez himself implacable against the peninsular kings who, disobeying the instructions of his legate, hindered negotiations for a common peace that would permit an offensive against Islam to begin as soon as possible. But what is especially interesting is to see how the pope stressed that the legitimizing motive for this offensive was the expulsion of Muslims from the lands where, long before, Christian people had lived. The pope used biblical arguments: it was the history of the Maccabees that showed that the peninsular Christians, like those faithful Jews, were not struggling to seize foreign lands but rather the inheritance of their forebears, unjustly seized by the enemies of the cross of Christ. But the pope went further, and also used the legal argument of the ius gentium, which demonstrated the legitimacy of expelling from a territory those who have unjustly occupied. Therefore, in short, the pope proclaimed that the persecution and extermination of the Saracens was not contrary to the Catholic faith. It was not the first time that the Apostolic See had legitimized and sacralized the Spanish reconquest itself, but never before had it spoken in such a clear and compelling manner. The papal legate had to attend to many issues during his long stay in the peninsula, and although the peace among its kings was a priority, negotiations were convoluted enough to provoke papal impatience in a letter directed to the Hospitallers of Spain and Provence (at the end of 1193), in which Celestine reproached the peninsular prelates for their failure to condemn the shameful agreements that their kings established with the Saracens, thereby preventing joint action against them. Peace was finally produced in April 1194 by the treaty of Tordehumos, which at least guaranteed the cessation of hostilities between the kings of Castile and León. Neither this nor the other peacekeeping initiatives of the legate would be effective in the medium term, but in the following months a certain climate of security was perceptible, which was exhibited somewhat naively in some contemporary documents. In any case, following Tordehumos, Alfonso VIII decided not to extend the truce with the Muslims. There was no formal requirement for this in the treaty, and it is even possible that the king had no plan to initiate hostilities. Be that as it may, the fact is that hostilities did begin in that year, 1194, with a successful raid into western al-Andalus, which was highlighted in contemporary Arabic and Latin sources. According to the latter, the raid was led by the archbishop of Toledo, Martín López de Pisuerga, on the orders of the king. In the crusading language of his notable successor, “girt about with the zeal of faith and his weapons being the persecution of blasphemy,” Archbishop Martín crowned his action with the greatest success. Such a high-profile attack was understood by all sides to be a formal declaration of hostilities, even before any more general offensive that the king of Castile might prepare. Caliph Abū Yūsuf was the first to move and did not delay in organizing his arrival in the peninsula. It is no wonder that a later Arab chronicler once again used the familiar trope of the “letter of challenge” that Al-

Holy War and Crusade during the Reign of alfonso VIII 129 fonso VIII allegedly sent to the Almohad leader. Similarly in Christian circles it was also understood that the action was more than just a seasonal raid. This can be seen from two letters, partly identical in content, which the pope sent in July 1195, one to the Spanish kings and princes, and the other to the archbishop of Toledo and his suffragans. The letters are marked by ambivalence. On the one hand, Celestine III wanted to appropriate the Castilian initiative and attribute it to the efforts of his legate Cardinal Gregory; on the other, Celestine came to implicitly recognize his failure (and that of his nuncio) to hide either their serious dissatisfaction with the reluctance of the Spanish kings toward any joint action, or the degree to which they felt those kings were deserving of the sentences of excommunication and interdict the legate had been threatening under these circumstances. In other words, something changed in the peninsula and in a sense the papal strategy of making the Spanish kings see the benefit of responding to the demands of the reconquest, rather than fighting for a wider defense of Christendom (for which they had shown reluctance) had triumphed. But at the same time, and perhaps precisely for this reason, this new mobilization responded to the radically individualistic criteria of territorial expansion, and pushed for only a minimum of consensus between the kingdoms, which was an indispensable requirement of the Apostolic See, because only such an agreement could guarantee success. The pope was not wrong. When these letters arrived in the peninsula, the disaster of Alarcos—on July 18, 1195—had already occurred, it was a mix of excessive aggressiveness and unaccountable improvisation, which came to confirm the papal thesis. Everything indicates that there might have been a plan for collaboration with León and Navarre, but nevertheless Alfonso VIII ended up alone at Alarcos, probably because, in addition to not trusting his Christian neighbors, he really did not desire it to be otherwise. Alarcos was not a crusade in the mind of Alfonso VIII. However, following the resounding defeat the propaganda generated by the Castilian king depicted Alarcos as a grave menace to Christendom. So too did the general chapter of the Cistercian Order, offering up their prayers that year for the disaster areas in the East and the peninsula. It was the worst defeat that the Muslims had inflicted on Christians since the days of Hattin, and there were many accounts in chronicles from beyond the Pyrenees that spoke of the event, for which all kinds of explanations were made. Some Provençal troubadours, who held the king of Castile in affection, called for the collaboration of all Christian monarchs, while denouncing the connection between Saladin and the Almohads. We should not forget the renewed but fleeting project of peninsular intervention considered by Philip II Augustus of France and Richard I of England. The emphasis on the strong commitment of Alfonso VIII to Christendom was a good antidote in this bitter hour of defeat, as the peninsular Christian powers renewed their old claims against Castile and its hegemonic ambitions. Alfonso VIII, who had not had the crusade in mind when he rushed to fight the

130 Carlos de Ayala Martínez Almohads, now promoted the image of himself as the champion of the faith, suffering “misfortune” as a result of the sinful weakness of human beings. Thus the whole topic of crusading reappears in the royal chancery at this moment. The atmosphere was perfect for it: a Christian defeat, which the Muslims themselves knew how to dress up as a religious triumph. For Alfonso VIII, in need of an effective shield against his Christian enemies, it was vital at this time not to lose hold of the moral argument that provided him with his special relationship with the papacy. And the strategy certainly worked. Celestine III turned a blind eye to the truces that the king of Castile sought from the Muslims repeatedly and with varying results, and when, in 1196, the inevitable conflict with León broke out, Alfonso VIII obtained the maximum protection that he could have asked for: the grant of a bull of crusade for his conflict with the king of León, who was supported militarily and financially by the Almohads. This is a well-known episode that we do not need to analyze here. In any case, it is evident that the pope was clearly betting on the crusading leadership of Alfonso VIII. This fact, coupled with the bitter memory of Alarcos and the dangerous consequences that the defeat had for the Castilian aspirations of hegemony over the whole peninsula, would lead the king, little by little, to change his propagandistic strategy and reclaim, in perfect harmony with the pope, a place of decisive leadership in the landscape of Christendom. The last phase of his reign and Las Navas de Tolosa were its greatest expression.

The Decisive Crusading Turn at the End of the Reign: The Era of Las Navas de Tolosa (1201–1214) The final fourteen years of the reign saw a change in the ideological strategy of King Alfonso that reconnected him with the crusading endeavors of the days of Cuenca, but now kept him very much in line with papal initiatives. It is true that the change was not immediate, and if we use the propaganda of the royal chancery as our barometer, we have to wait until the very eve of Las Navas to detect the revitalization of that discourse. This delay can be explained in part by the pronounced concern of Pope Innocent III for the theme of matrimonial morality and its strict application in Spain. Damian J. Smith has emphasized the importance of this point, central to the thinking of the pope, who saw in it the key that symbolically embodied all of his ecclesiological concepts in pastoral and political matters. The illegal marriage between the king of León and Berenguela, daughter of the king of Castile, by which both kingdoms had tried in 1197 to seal the peace, was for the pope no guarantee at all, because sin could not generate peace and even less could it be the basis for a strong union for defeating Islam. It is clear that this marriage alienated Alfonso VIII from the pope, who, as late as 1205, a year after the dissolution of the illegal marriage, admonished the king of Castile, accusing him of a whole range of abuses that seriously threatened the ecclesiasticam libertatem.

Holy War and Crusade during the Reign of alfonso VIII 131 And while the endless territorial disputes between Castile and León, caused by the annulment of the marriage, lasted almost to the days of Las Navas itself, it was the king of Aragon, Peter II, who, crowned by the pope in Rome in 1204, and confirmed as a most faithful vassal, in Innocent’s eyes became the leader of Christianity in the peninsula, and a mirror to hold up to the other Hispanic kings. That is how Pope Innocent saw it in early 1210 when, through the archbishop of Toledo, he exhorted Alfonso VIII to follow the example of the king of Aragon and take up the fight against Islam, or at least allow his subjects to come to his aid. That papal letter notably influenced the mood of the king. The pope openly questioned Alfonso’s leadership of peninsular Christianity and this had the potential to undermine the justification for a system of royal propaganda upon which the king had tried to base his power for thirty years. We do not know what role the archbishop of Toledo played in changing the attitude of the king, but it must have been significant. The letter sent by the pope to the monarch had been delivered by the archbishop, who had been elected only a year before to occupy the metropolitan see of Toledo and who was in the papal curia in February 1210 advocating for, among other things, the defense of the primatial privileges of his church. This was the great concern that guided the steps of the archbishop throughout his life, and that concern was inevitably associated with the political strength of Castile in the peninsula. The political situation of the kingdom could well justify the crusading leadership of the king, and this argument thus became another obsessive concern of the prelate who would become Alfonso’s most loyal and indispensable advisor. There is no doubt Rodrigo was interested in promoting enthusiasm for the crusade in Castile and Alfonso VIII now once again came to see the crusade as the political-ideological conduit through which he could legitimize his reign, and at the same time nurture the desire for vengeance, which certainly stemmed from his defeat at Alarcos. What is clear is that the truces with the Almohads, which expired at the end of 1210, were not renewed, and in a clever move, the court of Castile encouraged the crown prince, Ferdinand, a young man who was not associated with the wily politics practiced by his father in the previous decades, to ask the pope for the help he needed to dedicate the first fruits of its knighthood to exterminate the enemies of the name of Christ. The pope’s response, dated from the Lateran on December 10, 1210, was a bull ordering all Spanish bishops to encourage kings and princes free of truces with Muslims to join the efforts of the Castilian heir, granting forgiveness of sins to all peregrinos, from wherever they might come, ad idem opus. The leading role of Archbishop Rodrigo in starting up the machinery of the crusade is unquestionable. While other bishops, such as those of Palencia and Segovia, would assume important roles before the curia, whose support of the enterprise was unequivocal, Archbishop Rodrigo was in charge of managing

132 Carlos de Ayala Martínez the most difficult mission, that is, the only specific request for military aid by the Castilian court that we know of—the mission to King Philip II Augustus. The letter to Philip, which is attributable to Rodrigo, is peppered with biblical quotations, some of them clearly apocalyptic in inspiration, such as the vasa mortis, and is focused primarily on the idea of the opportunities of martyrdom in imitation of Christ. Regardless of the influence of the letter, and therefore the result of the embassy, about the same time the archbishop issued a call to crusade that survives in the documentary record, in which he alludes to indulgences that were more beneficial than those which could be obtained by going to Jerusalem. But there is no doubt that the best example of crusading language is contained in the famous letter sent by Alfonso VIII to Pope Innocent III following his resounding victory. Whether the letter is the personal work of the king or perhaps the work of the editorial genius of the archbishop of Toledo, matters little: it is, in any event, an expression of that pure crusading ideology that had been fully and forcefully renewed in Castile in the preceding years by the government of Alfonso VIII. It returns to the theme of the defense of Christendom, which had already been developed in the earlier phases of Alfonso’s ideological program. The language used strictly adheres to the logic of crusade—the campaign is defined as via Domini; the army is the Dei exercitum; and the contest is described as the bellum Domini. The symbolism of the cross, on the other hand, appears throughout the text, which does not skimp on references to the miraculous in a campaign that God had initiated and whose participants were potential or actual martyrs. In another letter which reports the victory of Las Navas (supposedly sent by the infanta Berenguela, daughter of the king, to her sister Blanche, wife of the heir of France, the future Louis VIII), the participants are qualified as “pilgrims,” an unequivocally crusading term. The idea that the role of Archbishop Rodrigo was decisive in the triumph of this crusade ideology can perhaps be seen clearly in another description of the victory, contained in a royal donation to the Church of Toledo dated August 1213. Almost certainly the preamble of the document is the work of the beneficiary, but the chancery would have been comfortable with the language used. Firstly, the wisdom of God is seen as key to the Christian triumph against the most powerful and fearful of his enemies, the king of Morocco, Mafomat almiramomelin, owner of a third of the world and more than thirty Iberian dioceses. The text compares him with Lucifer for his prideful declaration of a campestre bellum against all “worshipers of the cross of Christ” with the aim of destroying the Christian religion. But in the end the Holy Cross imposed its victory in spite of human weakness. This was all an evocative demonstration of apocalyptic fate, combined with the miraculous dimension of the work of God, working through the human frailty of King Alfonso. The victory of Las Navas represented the triumph of the papal idea of crusade, which had been fully integrated into the political discourse of the Castil-

Holy War and Crusade during the Reign of alfonso VIII 133 ian monarchy. Certainly the cooperation of the various peninsular kings—the “triad of kings (that) advanced in the name of the Holy Trinity,” in the words of Archbishop Rodrigo—was, as the Apostolic See had claimed, the key that brought victory to a complex military operation decided on the battlefield. But we should not forget that the crusading project of the king, legitimized by the papacy, was the result of a politically authoritarian initiative and not one that all the aristocratic forces of the kingdom were willing to back. The end of the reign of Alfonso VIII was a period of some political turbulence. The effort invested in the crusade offensive had left the kingdom exhausted and in these circumstances some questioned the king’s authority, despite the theoretical strength of its foundation. The Church could not have been happy given the economic exploitation it had suffered, nor the knights who, following the victory of Las Navas, Rodrigo invited to resolve their differences with the king in the court, threatening them with excommunication if they chose disloyalty and alliance with the Muslims. It is interesting to note how these signs of trouble show up in the documentation of the royal chancery, which, curiously, following the victory of Las Navas, tends to tone down the religious references to the battle, and displays a clear element of secularization. Indeed, almost half a year after the victory, the formulaic remembrance of the event, which would last until the end of the reign, was expressed in the following terms: “[in] the year in which the aforementioned Alfonso, king of Castile and Toledo, defeated al-Munimin, the king of Carthage, not on account of my own merit, but rather the mercy of God and the aid of my vassals.” In effect, this formula tries to balance the typical crusade theme of the king as instrument of God, the true author of victory, alongside the theme of the “service of my subjects,” as a condition necessary to bring that victory about. It is obvious that we are looking here at a concession from the clerical redactor to the nobility at a time when there were some signs of anxiety in the difficult circumstances of the exhaustion of the kingdom after the military victory. We do not know if this “strategic concession” was inspired by the political genius of the powerful archbishop of Toledo, but everything suggests that it was. At least, years later in his chronicle of events, Rodrigo would place in his own mouth some words directed to the king, which served as a gloss, indeed almost a precise reproduction, of the chancery text: “Be mindful of the grace of God, which covered all failings in you and today alleviated the opprobrium you have long borne. Be mindful of your knights, with whose help you have arrived at such glory.” It was evident that the crusade of Las Navas, which had the active support of the pope and not a few foreign crusaders, and was also supported by the Church of the kingdom, was read by the archbishop of Toledo as a deed in which the miraculous presence of God was manifest, but he also regarded it as a turning point, at the end of the reign of Alfonso VIII, that came to show

134 Carlos de Ayala Martínez that the construction of the monarchy could not be a stable reality without the collaboration of the nobles. The religious legitimacy generated by the crusade ideology could not exist—and perhaps was not desirable—outside the bonds of feudalism. Notes The present study forms a part of I D Génesis and desarrollo de la guerra santa cristiana en la edad Media del Occidente peninsular (ss. X–XIV), financed by the Subdirección General de Proyectos de Investigación del Ministerio de Economía y Competitividad, reference: HAR2012-32790. 1. See Jean Rupp, L’idée de chrétienté dans la pensé pontificale des origines à Innocent III (Paris: Les Presses Modernes, 1939); Antonio Oliver, “Ecclesia y Christianitas y Inocencio III. (En función de la idea de unidad medieval),” Estudios lulianos 1 (1957): 217–44. 2. Thomas Deswarte, Une Chrétienté romaine sans pape : L’Espagne et Rome (586–1085), (Paris: Éditions Classiques Garnier, 2010). 3. Carlos de Ayala Martínez, “On the Origins of Crusading in the Peninsula: The Reign of Alfonso VI (1065–1109),” Imago Temporis. Medium Aevum 7 (2013): 225–69. 4. Ana Isabel Lapeña Paúl, Sancho Ramírez, rey de Aragón (¿1064?–1094) y rey de Navarra (1076–1094) (Madrid: Ediciones Trea, 2004), 80–82. 5. Carlos de Ayala Martínez, “De Toledo a Las Navas: La reconquista que se convierte en cruzada,” in Iglesia, Guerra and Monarquía: Miscelánea de Estudios Medievales, ed. José Peña González and Manuel Alejandro Rodríguez de la Peña (Madrid: CEU Ediciones, 2014), 109–38. 6. Carlos de Ayala Martínez, “Guerra santa y órdenes militares en época de Alfonso VIII,” in La Península Ibérica en tiempos de Las Navas de Tolosa, ed. Carlos Estepa and Maria Antonia Carmona Ruiz (Madrid: Sociedad de Estudios Medievales, 2014), 109–44, esp. 112–17. 7. Juan Gil, ed., “Praefatio de Almeria,” in Chronica Hispana saeculi XII (Corpus Christianorum, LXXI) (Turnhout: Brepols, 1990), 265. 8. On the Lara and the Calatravans in this period, see Simon R. Doubleday, Los Lara. Nobleza y monarquía en la España medieval (Madrid, 2004 [orig. English 2001]), 41–44; González, Alfonso VIII, 2:198–99, no. 116; 2:329–30, no. 199). 9. Peter Linehan, “The Synod of Segovia (1166),” BMCL 10 (1980): 31–44 (reedited, Spanish Church and Society, 1150–1300 [London: Variorum, 1983], II). 10. Of course, there were exceptions. We know that some Castilians fought under the banner of Ibn Mardanīsh. See Ibn S.āh.ib al-S.alā, Al-Mann bil-imāma, ed. and trans. Ambrosio Huici Miranda, (Valencia: Ediciones Anubar, 1969), 39–45, 76–77, and 130–31; Ibn ‘Idhārī, Al-Bayān al-Mugrib: Nuevos fragmentos almorávides y almohades, ed. and trans. Ambrosio Huici Miranda (Valencia: Ediciones Anubar, 1963), 348, 352, 380; González, Alfonso VIII, 1:896–99; Ignacio González Cavero, “Una revisión de la figura de Ibn Mardanish. Su alianza con el reino de Castilla y la oposición frente a los almohades,” Miscelánea Medieval Murciana 31 (2007): 95–110, esp. 106–7. 11. Two documents from Sahagún, from February 1174 and July 1175, offer us clear expressions of the power that count Nuño Pérez de Lara continued to exercise in the government after the king had reached his majority. He was described as “tenente

Holy War and Crusade during the Reign of alfonso VIII 135 curia regis et eius imperio” in the first of these documents and simply as “tenente curia regis Aldefonsi” in the second: José Antonio Fernández Flórez, Colección diplomática del monasterio de Sahagún (857–1300), IV (1110–1199), (León: Centro de Estudios e Investigacion San Isidoro, 1991), 344, no. 1377; 353, no. 1383. See also Doubleday, Los Lara, 47–48. 12. María Jesús Viguera Molíns, ed., El retroceso territorial de al-Andalus: Almorávides y almohades, Siglos XI al XIII, vol. VIII–II of the Historia de España Menéndez Pidal (Madrid, 1997), 91–94. Ibn Mardanīsh, was described as vassal of the king of Castile by the Castilian chancery—Rex Lupus, vasallus regis Ildefonsi—in a document dated July 1160. It is clear that the relationship with the monarchy and the Lara-controlled regency remained strong until his death, as shown by the inclusion of a protection clause for the Andalusian leader in the Castilian-Aragonese treaty of Sahagún signed in June 1170: González, Alfonso VIII, 2:94–95, no. 52; 2:239–42, no. 140. 13. See Ibn S.āh.ib al-S.alā, Al-Mann, 204–22; ‘Abd al-Wāhid al-Marrākusī († c. 1224), Kitāb al-mu’yid, in A. Huici Miranda, Colección de Crónicas Árabes de la Reconquista, 4 vols. (Tetuán: Editorial Marroquí, 1951–5), 4:203–204; Ibn ‘Idhārī; Ibn ‘Idhārī, AlBayān al-Mugrib. Nuevos fragmentos, 443–46; Chronica magistri Rogeri de Houedene, ed. William Stubbs, Rolls series, 4 vols. (London, 1868–1870) 2:33; AT, 144–45; José Goñi Gaztambide, Historia de la bula de la cruzada en España (Vitoria: Editorial del Seminario, 1958), 93–94 and 643, no. 1. 14. When the Muslims marched to the east, close to Cuenca, the rumor that “little Alfonso and Count Nuño were coming,” accelerated the Almohad withdrawal. See, in addition to the note above, Melchor Martínez Antuña, “Campaña de los almohades en España,” Religión y Cultura, 29–39 (1935): 332–41; Ambrosio Huici Miranda, Historia política del Imperio almohade (Granada: Universidad de Granada, 2000), 258–66; Julio González, Repoblación de Castilla la Nueva (Madrid: Universidad Complutense, 1975), 229–31; Francisco García Fitz, Castilla y León frente al islam. Estrategias de expansión y tácticas militares (siglos XI–XIII) (Sevilla: Universidad de Sevilla, 1998), 272, 327–28. 15. Cf. Javier Albarrán Iruela, “De la conversión y expulsión al mercenariado: La ideología en torno a los cristianos en las crónicas almohades,” in La Península Ibérica en tiempos de Las Navas de Tolosa, ed. Estepa and Carmona, 79–91, especially 82–83. Ibn ‘Idhārī addresses the topic as well (see note 13), but his account is very dependent on Ibn S.āh.ib al-S.alā, and does not add anything new. 16. “De adventu imperatoris de Marroc in Hispania [a. 1172]. Eodem anno, Avigoth Armiramimoli, imperator Affricanorum, transivit mare Africcum, et applicuit in Hispania in manu forti, et brachio extento. Et defuncto rege Lupo qui paganus erat, occupavit terram illius, scilicet Murciam et Walentiam, et alias civitates multas, et inde per consilium regis Ferandi de Sancto Jacobo, intravit terram Aldefonsi regis Castelle, et cepit per vim Concam civitatem, et Occam civitatem, et omnes Christianos quos in eis cepit occidit, praeter paucos, quos in perpetuam redigit servitutem.” 17. The cardinal asked for knights and sufficient resources to carry out the operation. The expedition was not launched, perhaps because of an illness that kept the cardinal bedridden in Zamora during July 1172, when the attack on Huete took place. We know the date of the illness from a royal Leonese document of July 9, 1172 in which Castrotorafe is entrusted to the church of Rome, which gives the location “apud Zemoram in camera in qua Dominus Cardinalis iacebat: José Luis Martín, Orígenes de la Orden Militar de Santiago (1170–1195) (Barcelona: CSIC, 1974), 229–30, no. 55.

136 Carlos de Ayala Martínez 18. On the relationship between Ferdinand II and the Almohads, see Derek W. Lomax, La Reconquista (Barcelona: Editorial Critica 1984 [orig. English edition,1978]), 149–50; Viguera, El retroceso territorial, 92. The alliance survived until it was broken by Ferdinand II in 1174: Ibn ‘Idhārī al- Marrākusī , Al-Bayān, ed. Ambrosio Huici Miranda, Colección de Crónicas Árabes, 1:14–15. 19. Doubleday, Los Lara, 211. 20. See the study of the two legations of Cardinal Hyacinth by Damian J. Smith, “The Iberian Legations of Cardinal Hyacinth Bobone,” in Pope Celestine III (1191–1198). Diplomat and Pastor, ed. John Doran and Damian J. Smith (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2008), 81–111. 21. It may be that the first major activity of the legate in Spain in 1172 was the meeting held in Soria with Alfonso VIII, Ferdinand II of León, and Alfonso II of Aragon in January 1172. We are informed of this meeting by the prologue of the primitive rule of Santiago, which was probably written in 1175 by Cardinal Alberto de Morra, later Gregory VIII. Alberto Ferrari, “Alberto de Morra, postulador de la orden de Santiago y su primer cronista,” Boletín de la Real Academia de Historia (hereafter BRAH) 146 (1960): 63–139. The date of the meeting was probably January—the royal itineraries suggest as much. This differs from the chronology proposed by Julio González, for whom the meeting in Soria would have been in June–July 1173: Julio González, Regesta de Fernando II, (Madrid: CSIC, 1944), 105. 22. In effect, on May 12, 1172, the legate assisted in the integration of the military brotherhood of Avila into the newly-created order of Santiago. Martín, Orígenes, 226–27, no. 53. 23. See note 17. 24. Before Abū Ya’qūb arrived at Cuenca, proceeding from Huete, from the end of July, the Christians had besieged the city for five months: Ibn S.āh.ib al-S.alā, AlMann, 218. 25. Ibn S.āh.ib al-S.alā, Al-Mann, 233; D. S. Richards, The Chronicle of Ibn al-Athîr for the Crusading Period from al-Kâmil fi’l-ta’rîkh, Part 2, The Years 541–589/1146–1193: The Age of Nur al-Din and Saladin (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007), 212. 26. Publ. Ramón Riu, Sermón de la Bula de la Santa Cruzada, (Madrid: Tipografía de los Huérfanos, 1887), appendix; and Fidel Fita, “Tres bulas inéditas de Alejandro III,” BRAH 12 (1888): 167–68 (from Archivo de la Catedral de Toledo, hereafter ACT, 0.2, 64). Cit. Goñi, Historia de la bula de la cruzada, 94; Juan Franciso Rivera Recio, La Iglesia de Toledo en el siglo XII (1086–1208) (Rome: Instituto Español de Historia Eclesiástica, 1966), 1:218–19 (from a thirteenth-century copy, ACT 0.9.A.1.8). Joseph O’Callaghan, Reconquest and Crusade in Medieval Spain (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2002), 55–56. Concerning the crusading character of this bull (or otherwise), see Iben Fonnesberg-Schmidt, The Popes and the Baltic Crusades, 1147–1254 (Leiden: Brill, 2008), 62–64. 27. Martín, Orígenes, 255–56, no. 75. 28. Ibn ‘Idhārī, Al-Bayān, 28. 29. Ibn S.āh.ib al-S.alā, Al-Mann, 217. Julio González, citing the work of Martínez Antuña, associates this pact with the surrender to the Christians by Ibn Mardanīsh of the castles of Baly (Vilches), near Baeza, and Alcaraz, and Ibn S.āh.ib al-S.alā says the same: Ibn S.āh.ib al-S.alā, Al-Mann, 205, 206. He does not date the surrenders but Julio González situates them around 1169–1170: González, Alfonso VIII, 1:905.

Holy War and Crusade during the Reign of alfonso VIII 137 30. Peter Linehan, History and the Historians of Medieval Spain (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993), 290. And it is certainly interesting to note that the chroniclers speaks of the king in adolescentia constitutus—in reality he was twenty-two—when he besieged Cuenca, after indicating that, grandiusculus factus, he had begun to act viriliter: CLRC, ch. 10, 42. 31. DRH, bk.7, ch. 26–27, 248–50. 32. DRH, bk. 7, ch. 15–16, 236–39; bk. 7, ch. 18, 240–41. 33. On “zeal” see Susanna A. Throop, “Zeal, Anger and Vengeance. The Emotional Rhetoric of Crusading,” in Vengeance in the Middle Ages: Emotion, Religion and Feud, ed. Throop and Paul Hyams (Farnham: Ashgate, 2010), 177–202; idem, Crusading as an Act of Vengeance, 1095–1216 (Farnham: Ashgate, 2011). Cf. Martín Alvira Cabrer, Las Navas de Tolosa 1212: Idea, liturgia y memoria de la batalla, (Madrid: Sílex, 2012), 64. In the Spanish documentation, the term appears first in papal correspondence, often associated with other significant terms like athletas Christi. We see it in the bull of Alexander II of 1175, which announced the foundation of the Order of Santiago (see note 27). 34. “Congregavit ibi diversos populos et univit in populum magnitudinis.” Also see James F. Powers, ed., The Code of Cuenca. Municipal Law of the Twelfth-Century Castilian Frontier (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2000). 35. The so-called “Chronica Latina,” for example, emphasizes the extraordinary power of Alfonso VIII and its terrifying consequences for his neighbors, Christian or Muslim. CLRC, ch. 11, 43. 36. See Amaia Arizaleta, Les clercs au palais: Chancillerie et écriture du pouvoir royal (Castille, 1157–1230) (Paris: Les Livres d’Spania, 2010), 208–31, http://e-spanialivres. revues.org/154. The author suggests the relation between the texts, the prologue, and DRH, 230. 37. In effect, the prologue has two sections of very unequal length, both by the same author. The first part is composed of fourteen verses, the last four of which present Alfonso VIII as triumphant over Navarre, León, Aragon, and Portugal. The section in prose, which is much larger, is divided into six paragraphs, in which the legislative and military qualities of the king are extolled, and where the conquest of Cuenca and its significance is mentioned. 38. “Rex itaque tam nominate auctoritatis, quem a mari usque ad mare reges xristiani nominis hostes, utpote totiens vires eius experti, et ab eo contusi, solo nomine contremiscunt, cui etiam xristiani príncipes tamquam superiori seserviunt, a quo arma milicie, et colofatum probitatis memoriale, videlicet domnus Conradus generosa proles romani imperatoris, et dompnus Aldefonsus rex legionensium, suscepisse se gaudent, et manum eius deosculasse, postquam obsidione facta post multos laborum cruciatus multis angustiis, abintus afflictus hostibus, decursis mensibus novem, Conchensem urbem intravit, eam ceteris preferens, utpote Concham Alphonsipolim elegit et preelegit in habitacionem sibi, et cives eius populum peculiarem sibi adscivit, ut quam de servitute Babilonis, et iugo pharaonis armis potencie regalis eripuerat, eliminata idolatrie spurcicia, liberam et precipuam inter alias in prosperum stabiliret.” Arizaleta, Les clercs aus palais, 340. 39. Carlos de Ayala Martínez, “El discurso de la guerra santa en la cancillería castellana (1158–1230),” in Orígenes y desarrollo de la guerra santa en la Península Ibérica.

138 Carlos de Ayala Martínez Palabra e imágenes para una legitimación (siglos X–XIV), ed. Carlos de Ayala Martínez, Patrick Henriet, and Santiago Palacios (Madrid: Casa de Velázquez, 2016), 155–85. 40. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:543–45, no. 325. 41. Linehan, History and the Historians, 292–93. 42. See Arizaleta, Les clercs aus palais, 178–79; Ayala Martínez, “Alfonso VIII, Cruzada y Cristiandad,” Espacio, Tiempo y Forma 29 (2016): 75–113. 43. José María de Francisco Olmos, “El maravedí de oro de Alfonso VIII: un mensaje cristiano escrito in árabe,” Revista General de Información y Documentación 8 (1998): 283–301. And see Todesca in this current volume. 44. Pascal Buresi, La Frontière entre Chrétienté et Islam dans la Péninsule Ibérique. Du Tage à la Sierra Morena (fin XIe–milieu XIIIe siécle), 100–1. 45. Ayala Martínez, “El discurso de la guerra santa,” 163–71. 46. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:749–51, no. 435. 47. Ibid.: “qui assidue pro patria pugnantes certamine tam oratione quam propri sanguinis effundere Christianitatis loca et habitationes uiriliter in Domino defendunt.” Cf. Linehan, History and the Historians, 294. 48. Ayala Martínez, “Ideología, espiritualidad y religiosidad de las órdenes militares en la época de Alfonso VIII: El modelo santiaguista,” in Las Navas de Tolosa, 1212–2012. Miradas cruzadas, ed. P. Cressier and V. Salvatierra (Jaén: Publicaciones de la Universidad de Jaén, 2014), 331–46; idem, “Guerra santa y órdenes militares,” 109–44. 49. Of the ten Castilian bishops, no fewer than six, led by the archbishop of Toledo, attended the Third Lateran Council: Raymonde Foreville, Historia de los concilios ecuménicos, 6/1: Lateranense I, II y III (Vitoria: Editorial Eset, 1972), 282–87. 50. Willeimi Tyrensis, archiepiscopi, Chronicon, ed. R.B.C. Huygens, CCCM 63 (Turnholt: Brepolis, 1986), 407–8. 51. Raymonde Foreville, Augustin Fliche, Las Cruzadas, vol. 9 of La Historia de La iglesia (Valencia: Edicep, 1977), 434. 52. In 1183 Lucius authorized the militarization of the Leonese Order of San Julián del Pereiro whose convent was built in sarracenorum faucibus: Bonifacio Palacios, ed., Colección Diplomática Medieval de la Orden de Alcántara (1157?–1494), I, De los orígenes a 1454 (Madrid: Fundación Benito de Alcántara-Editorial Complutense, 2000), no. 16. A little more than a year later, in November of 1184, Lucius III took the Order of Santiago under his protection and confirmed its possessions. Demetrio Mansilla, ed., La documentación pontificia hasta Inocencio III (965–1216) (Rome: Instituto Español de Estudios Eclesiásticos, 1955) (hereafter MDI), 145–51, no. 124. 53. BC, 22–25. 54. ACT A.6.F.1.7. Published in Juan Francisco Rivera Recio, La Iglesia de Toledo en el siglo XII (1086–1208) 2 vols (Roma: Instituto Español de Historia Eclesiástica, 1966), 1:222–23. See Ayala Martínez, “Alfonso VIII y la Iglesia de su reino,” in 1212, un año, un reinado, un tiempo de despegue, ed. Esther López Ojeda, XXIII Semana de Estudios Medievales (Logroño: Instituto de Estudios Riojanos, 2013), 276–77. 55. There were contacts between the two in 1189–90, although the request for naval cooperation which Saladin proposed to Abū Yūsuf al Mansūr to hinder a new crusade to the East found no support in the court of Marrakech. See Maurice GaudefroyDemombynes, “Une lettre de Saladin au calife almohade,” in Mélanges René Basset: études nord-africaines et orientale, ed. Jean Deny, 2 vols. (Paris: E. Leroux, 1925), 1:279– 304; Hamilton Gibb, ed., The Life of Saladin from Works of ‘Imād ad-Dīn and Bahā’ad-

Holy War and Crusade during the Reign of alfonso VIII 139 Dîn (Oxford: Saqi Books, 1973), 62–63; Maribel Fierro, “La religión,” in El retroceso territorial de al-Andalus: Almorávides y almohades, Siglos XI al XIII, t. VIII-2 of Historia de España Ramón Menéndez Pidal (Madrid: Espasa Calpe, 1997), 505. Ibn ‘Idhārī gives an account of the embassy, but not the details: Ibn ‘Idhārī, Al-Bayān, 167–68. 56. One month later, in June, the pope again addressed the archbishop of Toledo and his suffragans, developing guidelines for bringing about peace in the Spanish kingdoms, which were to be applied with severe threats, including eventual papal intervention, probably in the form of a new legate: ACT E.7.C (XII).15.1. Published by Rivera, La Iglesia de Toledo, 1:225. 57. Ayala Martínez, “El discurso de la guerra santa,” 169–70. Notable exceptions are some documents aimed specifically at the military orders. See González, Alfonso VIII, 2:915–17, no. 534; 2:917–19, no. 535; 3:83–85, no. 610. 58. ACT A.6.F.1.6. Published by Rivera, La Iglesia de Toledo, 1:228. 59. Evariste Lévi-Provençal, “Un recueil des lettres officielles almohades,” 64–65, no. 34, cit. Francisco García Fitz, Relaciones políticas y guerra: La experiencia castellano-leonesa frente al Islam, Siglos XI–XIII (Seville: Editorial Universidad de Sevilla, 2002), 136. Although the Arab chronicler introduces contradictory details concerning the embassy of the Jewish envoy sent by the king of Castile, who had arrived in Morocco in the winter of 1191–1192 to “confirm the peace,” and also about the unacceptable Castilian conditions which had obligated the Caliph to break off negotiations a few months later, in July 1192 (Ibn ‘Idhārī, Al-Bayān, 174–76; cit. González, Alfonso VIII, 1:949), it is clear that there was officially a truce between Castile and the Almohads until the expiration of the agreements in 1194 (this is confirmed by ‘Abd al-Wāhid al-Marrākusī, Kitāb al-mu’yid, 235, among others). 60. This is how Adrian IV saw it in his famous letter to Louis VII of France in February 1159. Jacques-Paul Migne, ed., Patrologiae latinae cursus completus, 221 vols. (Paris: Garnier, 1844–1864) (hereafter PL), 188:1615–17. 61. Kyle Lincoln, “ ‘Holding the Place of the Lord Pope Celestine:’ The Legations of Gregory, Cardinal-Deacon of Sant’Angelo (1192–4/1196–7),” Anuario de Historia de la Iglesia 23 (2014): 419–48. 62. ACT E.7.C (XII).16.4. Published in Rivera, La Iglesia de Toledo, 1:229–30, 238. 63. This was the case with Alexander II in 1063, regarding the conquest of Barbastro. (PL 146:1386–87; S. Loewenfeld, Epistolae pontificum romanorum ineditae (1885 [repr. 1959], nos. 83, 43). 64. In the letter, dated November 4 and sent to the Hospitallers, the pope again invoked the theme of Jerusalem, juxtaposing the unedifying picture of the peninsula with the occupation of the Holy City by the pagans: PU Spanien, vol. 2, no. 200. See also the papal letter sent at the same time to Alfonso II of Aragon (ibid., no. 201). 65. Thus, in the agreement of May 1194, which put an end to the litigation between the abbots of Oña and San Millán, at the initiative of the legate, one can read: “. . . in anno, quo dominus G. car[dinalis] exiuit de Hispania, pace inter reges per X annorum treugas constituta . . .” (Kehr, PU Spanien, vol. 2, no. 206). 66. Ibn ‘Idhārīalludes, although unclearly, to the possible intention on the part of Alfonso VIII to renew the truces in 1194: Ibn ‘Idhārī, Al-Bayān, 180. See González, Alfonso VIII, 1:950–51. 67. Ibn ‘Idhārī, Al-Bayān, 180; ‘Abd al-Wāhid al-Marrākusī, Kitāb al-mu’yid, 235. In the Christian sources: CLRC, ch. 12, 44; DRH, bk. 7, ch. 28, 250–51.

140 Carlos de Ayala Martínez 68. Ambrosio Huici Miranda, Las grandes batallas de la reconquista durante las invasiones africanas (almorávides, almohades y benimerines) (Madrid: CSIC, 1956), 138–39; González, Alfonso VIII, 1:951, n. 1. 69. ACT E.7.C (XII). 16.1 and 16.6., cited in Rivera Recio, La Iglesia de Toledo, 1:232. The first document was published in P. Zerbi, Papato, impero e “respublica christiana” dal 1187 al 1198 (Milano: Università Cattolica del Sacro Cuore), 179, no. 1. 70. We know that at the end of November 1194, Alfonso IX of León had made contact in Toledo with Alfonso VIII and in this context the Leonese king favored the Castilian branch of the Order of Santiago, recognizing implicitly the hierarchical superiority of its master with respect to the Leonese brothers: Ayala Martínez, “Guerra santa y órdenes militares,” 128–29. The contact probably resulted in an agreement for joint mobilization in the following year: on July 12, 1195, a Gallegan knight, Diego Cotalaya, decided to make his last will and testament because he was marching in the army of the king of León to fight against the Saracen (Julio González, Alfonso IX, 2 vols. [Madrid: CSIC, 1944], 1:71). 71. DRH, bk. 7, ch. 30, 252–53. 72. Francisco Ruiz Gómez, “La guerra y los pactos a propósito de la batalla de Alarcos,” in Alarcos 1195: Actas del Congreso Internacional conmemorativo del VIII centenario de la batalla de Alarcos, ed. Ricardo Izquierdo Benito and Francisco Ruiz Gómez (Cuenca: Ediciones de la Universidad de Castilla-La Mancha, 1996), 164. 73. This is not the opinion of O’Callaghan (Reconquest and Crusade, 61). 74. Derek W. Lomax, “La conquista de Andalucía a través de la historiografía de la época,” in Andalucía entre Oriente y Occidente (1236–1492): Actas del V Coloquio Internacional de Historia Medieval en Andalucía, ed. Emilio Cabrera (Córdoba: Excma. Diputación Provincial de Córdoba, 1988), esp. 39. 75. J. M. Canivez, Statuta Capitulorum Generalium Ordinis Cisterciensis ab anno 1116 ad annum 1786, vol. 1 (ab anno 1116 ad annum 1220) (Louvain, 1933), 181–82. 76. Including that of William the Breton, the chronicler for Philip II Augustus, who interpreted the death of fifty thousand Christians at Alarcos as a sign of God’s disapproval of Alfonso’s unjust treatment of his nobles, and the humiliation to which they were subjected, since although knights they were converted into simple peasants. For this and other chronicle mentions of the battle, see Jean Flori, Ricardo Corazón de León, el rey cruzado (Barcelona: Edhasa, 2002), 239–40. 77. See, for example, the “sirventes” Senhor, per los nostres peccatz by the famous Gavaudan, written most probably after the defeat of Alarcos, in which he refers to Saladin and asks for the cooperation of the emperor of the Germans, and the kings of France and England in support of the rey d’Espanha: Martín de Riquer, Los Trovadores (Barcelona: Ariel, 2011), 208, 1049–52. 78. Lomax, La Reconquista, 158. 79. In a royal document dated December of 1196, we read: “. . . ex infortunio de Alarcos (. . .) ubi diuine potentie, peccatis exigentibus nostris, non placuit nos obtinere uictoriam . . .” González, Alfonso VIII, 3:164–66, no. 658. 80. María Jesús Viguera Molíns, Los reinos de taifas y las invasiones magrebíes (Al-Andalus del XI al XIII) (Madrid: Editorial Mapfre, 1992), 291. See also J. Benelhaj Soulami, “La batalla de Alarcos en la mitología árabe,” in Alarcos 1195, 283–88. 81. Lévi Provençal, “Un recueil des lettres officielles almohades,” 66, no. 35; González, Alfonso VIII, 1:972, 1:977, 1:979–81.

Holy War and Crusade during the Reign of alfonso VIII 141 82. Fidel Fita, “Bulas históricas al reino de Navarra en los postreros años del siglo XII,” BRAH 26 (1895): 423–24. 83. See Ayala Martínez, “Obispos, guerra santa y cruzada en los reinos de León y Castilla (s. XII),” in Cristianos y musulmanes en la Península Ibérica: la guerra, la frontera y la convivencia, XI Congreso de Estudios Medievales, ed. Miguel Ángel Ladero Quesada (León: Fundación Sánchez Albornoz, 2009), esp. 252–56. See O’Callaghan, Reconquest and Crusade, 62–64. 84. Smith, “The Papacy,” 164–65. 85. MDI, 344–45, no. 312. See Ayala Martínez, “Los obispos de Alfonso VIII,” in Carreiras Eclesiásticas no Occidente Cristao (séc. XII–XIV). Encontro Internacional, (Lisbon: Centro de Estudos de História Religiosa, Universidad Católica Portuguesa, 2007), esp. 184–85. And see Smith’s chapter in this volume. 86. González, Alfonso VIII, 1:735–44. 87. MDI, 339–41, no. 307. See Bonifacio Palacios Martín, La coronación de los reyes de Aragón, 1204–1410: Aportación al estudio de las estructuras políticas medievales (Valencia: Anubar, 1975), 21–77. 88. MDI, 436, no. 416. On the relationship between Peter II and Alfonso, see the chapter by Alvira Cabrer in this volume. 89. Javier Gorosterratzu, Don Rodrigo Jiménez de Rada, gran estadista, escritor y prelado (Pamplona: Viuda de T. Bescansa, 1925), 61–63. 90. González, Alfonso VIII, 1:983. 91. MDI, 472–73, no. 442. 92. MDI, 475–76, no. 447; 500–1, no. 470. See Ayala Martínez, “Los obispos de Alfonso VIII,” 177. 93. We need not do more than recall the many crusade bulls and, above all, the exceptional and well-known procession organized in Rome in May of 1212 to implore divined aid in favor of Castilian arms: MDI, 476–77, no. 448; 497–98, no. 468; 500–1, no. 470; 503–4 no. 473; on the procession, see Smith, “The Papacy,” 176–77. 94. Publ. (Castilian translation) Gorosterratzu, Don Rodrigo, 74 (dated to 1211); Alvira Cabrer, Las Navas de Tolosa, 98–99; González, Alfonso VIII, 3: no. 890 (dated [1212?]). 95. See Ayala Martínez, “El discurso de la guerra santa,” 171–73. 96. The preaching which probably accompanied the journey of the archbishop to France has been linked to the development of the Children’s Crusade: Alvira Cabrer, Las Navas de Tolosa, 100–1. 97. ACT I.6.G.1.13. Published by Lucy K. Pick, Conflict and Coexistence: Archbishop Rodrigo and the Muslims and Jews of Medieval Spain (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2004), 209–10 (with an English translation); and Alvira Cabrer (Spanish translation), Las Navas de Tolosa 1212, 95. Alvira Cabrer rejects the dates suggested by Pick (between June and October 1211) and suggests a date of January 1212. 98. MDI, 509–15, no. 483 (dated after July 16); González, Alfonso VIII, 3:566–72, no. 897; Maurilio Pérez González, “Sobre la edición de textos latinos medievales: la carta de Alfonso VIII a Inocencio III en 1212,” Veleia 17 (2000): 231–66 (Latin text, 254–57 and Castilian translation, 261–64). 99. In defense of the king’s direct authorship, see Arizaleta, Les clercs au palais, 190, 194. 100. See Ayala Martínez, “El discurso de la guerra santa,” 173–80.

142 Carlos de Ayala Martínez 101. González, Alfonso VIII, 3:572–74, no. 898; Francisco Javier Hernández, “La corte de Fernando III y la casa real de Francia. Documentos, crónicas, monumentos,” in Fernando III y su tiempo (1201–1252): VIII Congreso de Estudios Medievales (León: Fundación Sánchez Albornoz, 2003), 138–39; and Teresa H. Vann, “Our father has won a great victory: the authorship of Berenguela’s account of the battle of Las Navas de Tolosa, 1212,” JMIS 3 (2011): 90–92; Vann questions the Castilian origins of the letter. 102. See Arizaleta, Les clercs au palais, 187. 103. González, Alfonso VIII, 3:592–94, no. 910. 104. DRH, bk. 8, ch. 6, 264–66. See also Alvira Cabrer, Las Navas de Tolosa, 261–64. 105. Everything suggests that the Church was under considerable pressure when it came to the financing of the Las Navas crusade. We know that the king received half of the annual income of the Castilian Church (CLRC, ch. 21, 57). Moreover, we have the famous story of the melting-down of the treasures of the church of Castile on the eve of the campaign: Hilda Grasotti, “Organización política, administrativa y feudovasallática de León and Castilla durante los siglos XI y XII,” in Los reinos cristianos en los siglos XI y XII, vol. II: Economías, Sociedades, Instituciones (Historia de España Menéndez Pidal, X) (Madrid: Espasa Calpe, 1992), 213. 106. See Pick, Conflict and Coexistence, 46–47; the text of the letter: ibid., 211. The archbishop appealed to religious sensibilities in order to upbraid the attitude of the knights, but perhaps he also made some arguments that could be characterized as “patriotic”: “Immo sicut athlete Christi et sui nominis et fidei catholice defensores uso murum pro domo Israel opponatis, pro patriis legibus et gente et patria si necesse fuerit morituri.” 107. “Eo scilicet anno quo predictus Aldefonsus, rex Castelle et Toleti, Almimamorinum regem Cartagenis deuici, non meo merito set misericordia Dei et seruitio uassallorum meorum.” For instance, González, Alfonso VIII, vol. 3, no. 901. 108. “Estote memor gracie Dei, que omnes deffectus in vobis supplevit et oprobium aliquandiu toleratum hodie relevavit. Estote etiam memor vestrorum militum, quorum auxilio ad tantam gloriam pervinistis.” DRH, bk. 8, ch. 10, 272–74. 109. Although Ximénez de Rada does not mention Innocent III in relation to Las Navas, and underestimates the impact of the foreign crusaders, it is clear that the pope was heavily involved and that the presence of the ultramontanos mattered a great deal. 110. Despite the forced nature of the contribution, the Church supported the crusade. More than half a dozen bishops participated: Ayala Martínez, “Alfonso VIII y la Iglesia,” 255. 111. As we have said, the archbishop was probably the main author of the letter to the pope from Alfonso VIII, informing him of the battle of Las Navas, and in it miraculous events appear. They also appear frequently in his chronicle. For example, there is the famous “shepherd” who showed the Christian army the path that would lead them to victory. See Rafael G. Peinado Santaella, “El pastor de Las Navas o trampa ideológica de una imagen cruzada,” in La literatura no ha existido siempre: Para Juan Carlos Rodríguez, ed. Miguel Angel García, Angela Olalla Real, and Andrés Soria Olmedo (Granada: Universidad de Granada, 2015), 439–53.

Chapter seven Alfonso VIII and the Battle of Las Navas de Tolosa Miguel Gómez

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s the sun set over the Sierra Morena on the evening of Monday, July 16, 1212, the fifty-six-year-old Alfonso VIII, king of Castile and Toledo, rode back to his camp on the Mesa del Rey above the fields of Las Navas de Tolosa, where his army, alongside those of his fellow monarchs Peter II of Aragon and Sancho VII of Navarre, had just routed the forces of the Almohad Caliph Muh.ammad al-Nās.ir. Alfonso himself had led the charge of his reserve cavalry that turned the tide of the battle and shattered the Almohad forces, but it had been a near-run contest. Alfonso’s attack came at a moment when the Christian lines appeared to have been wavering. In one of the most dramatic scenes in any of the many accounts of the battle, Archbishop Rodrigo Ximénez de Rada reported that the king, upon seeing his men breaking, turned to him and said “Archbishop, you and I are going to die here.” Rodrigo, ever the confident counselor, replied, “Not at all, rather here you will overcome your enemies.” The archbishop’s confidence was wellplaced. Alfonso “ordered his standard bearer to spur his horse and ride quickly up the hill where the heart of the battle was, and he did so at once. When the Christians came up, the Moors thought that new waves had come upon them and fell back, overcome by the power of our Lord Jesus Christ.” In his letter to Pope Innocent III, Alfonso remarked, “Following them [the defeated Almohad soldiers] until night, we killed more in the rout than in the battle itself.” The old king must have been both exhausted and exhilarated at the end of what was undoubtedly the most momentous day of his long reign. The battle of Las Navas de Tolosa, and the campaign which preceded the Christian victory, is certainly the most famous event of Alfonso VIII’s lengthy fifty-six years on the Castilian throne. It was recorded far and wide in chronicles and histories across Europe, and became in time a semi-legendary episode of immense importance in the collective memory of Christian Spain. The battle serves as the climax (and most detailed part) of Archbishop Rodrigo’s history, De Rebus Hispanie, and was the lens through which he magnified the reputation of Alfonso VIII. The king himself celebrated the victory in all of his chancery documents issued during the last two years of his life. Of course, the significance, decisiveness, and impact of the battle were exaggerated, both by the contemporary Castilians and by generations of subsequent historians. The losses sustained that day were not the cause of the long-term 143

144 Miguel Gómez instability of the Almohad Empire, nor did victory secure for the Christian kingdoms their accelerating conquest of the peninsula, which was in fact the result of centuries-long demographic and economic developments. But even if the battle did not represent a sudden turning point in Iberian history, it certainly appeared, to the king and his contemporaries, to mark the high point of his reign. The victory belonged to Alfonso, as much as it may be said to have belonged to any one person. The battle, and the conditions which made it possible, were the culmination of years of effort and work to position Castile as the most powerful kingdom in Spain. It was also the result of steady effort by the Church, and especially the papacy, to encourage the Castilian monarch, and his fellow rulers, to set aside their preferred political rivalries in the name of the much more difficult work of defending and expanding the borders of Christendom. By 1212, Alfonso VIII was the most successful crusading monarch of his generation, but it took him a while to get there. His victory served as a powerful motivation, and set lofty expectations for his successors, which would encourage them to conquer most of al-Andalus over the course of the thirteenth century.

Igniting the Fires of War The road to Las Navas was a long one for Alfonso VIII. Alfonso’s reign was one of the most politically fractious periods in the history of medieval Spain. The Christian realms were divided into five kingdoms throughout this period and the resulting political maneuvering meant that Christian monarchs fought amongst themselves more often than they fought against their Muslim neighbors to the south. Alfonso had himself contributed greatly to this situation, as he spent much of his time vying with his neighbors for the political hegemony over the Christian realms that his grandfather, the Emperor Alfonso VII, had enjoyed. Generally speaking, this internecine warfare was simpler and less risky than conflict with the powerful Almohad Empire that controlled al-Andalus. Moreover, conquering territory on the frontier involved the long work of repopulation and settlement of regions denuded by raiding and warfare. Nevertheless, in the midst of his struggle for supremacy in the north, the king had also found occasion to expand his realm at the expense of al-Andalus. At certain moments over the course of his long reign, his expansionistic goals, his kingdom’s circumstances, and the tireless promotion of the crusade by the papacy were all in alignment. Sometimes these moments led to considerable success, such as the 1177 conquest of the city of Cuenca. Other times, the results were disastrous, as in 1195, when the Castilian forces were mauled on the battlefield at Alarcos by an Almohad army under the Caliph Yaʿqūb ibn Yūsuf. The disaster of Alarcos might have gone very differently: Pope Celestine III had worked, with some success, to promote the 1195 campaign as a joint crusading effort on the part of the Christian kingdoms. It had very nearly worked,

Alfonso VIII and the Battle of Las Navas de Tolosa 145 but Alfonso VIII had displayed considerable impatience and carelessness. He barely escaped the battle with his life. Alarcos clearly demonstrated the high stakes of pursuing war against the Almohads. The defeat was followed by two years of devastating raids launched by the victors along the Tagus frontier. Lengthy truces were established with the Almohads in 1197/8, and Alfonso was in no hurry to break them. Instead he spent much of the next decade pursuing his ambitions of ruling Gascony, and punishing his Christian neighbors for their actions after Alarcos. There is no question that the experience of 1195 also loomed large in his mind. The Latin Chronicle reports that “The king kept (it) in his mind, he never forgot the misfortune which he had suffered at the battle of Alarcos. Often he recalled the day to mind, desiring to have revenge on the king of Morocco, and for this he often prayed to the Lord.” However, this reported appetite for revenge never manifested itself in the king’s actions until a new generation of would-be crusaders, for whom the disaster of 1195 was a secondary concern, brought a new enthusiasm for crusade to the kingdom of Castile. This new generation was best personified in two figures, Alfonso’s eldest son, Ferdinand, and the new archbishop of Toledo, Rodrigo Ximénez de Rada. The new archbishop had been trained in Paris where, much like Innocent III, he was well-schooled in the vision of the crusade promoted by reformers there. Rodrigo’s election to the archbishopric of Toledo in 1209 (which Alfonso VIII recommended to Innocent III) may well have represented the Castilian monarch’s intention to pursue Rome’s crusading agenda. The new prelate, just thirty-nine years of age, would play a pivotal role in promoting the crusade in the Iberian Peninsula. In the following year, there was also a clear move to position Prince Ferdinand as the face of Castilian crusading. Ferdinand was young and charismatic, and was the ideal figure to rally united action by the Christian kings of Spain, as he carried none of his father’s baggage from earlier internecine conflicts. He could be presented by the clerical chroniclers as a man committed to warfare the Church deemed desirable (crusade) as opposed to the less desirable but more common struggle for supremacy over Christian neighbors. The Chronica Latina emphasizes the role of the young Prince Ferdinand, who in the summer of 1210 was twenty years of age, and who “burned with desire for war with the Saracens.” Juan of Osma’s assessment of the young prince was glowing. Noting his maturity and aptitude, the author of the Chronica noted that Alfonso VIII “was pleased with him, and gave thanks to the Lord who had given him such a son, who could now be his helper in the government of the kingdom, and could in part take his place in warlike affairs.” Those warlike affairs were to be a renewal of the struggle against the Almohads. It is apparent that in 1210, for the first time since his defeat at the battle of Alarcos in 1195, Alfonso VIII felt confident taking on the Almohads. Succession was, of course, a central concern for any monarch. When Alfonso nearly lost

146 Miguel Gómez his life on the battlefield at Alarcos, Ferdinand, then his only son, was but five years old. The king needed to look no further than his own childhood to see the chaos that could ensue from a protracted royal minority. But in 1210, he had two sons (the younger, Henry, turned six in April 1210), to say nothing of his very capable daughter Berenguela. His dynasty was indeed considerably more secure, which no doubt gave him confidence in the face of the expiring truces. Moreover, as the Chronica Latina suggested, the aging Alfonso could count on his young and vigorous son to take the lead when it came to the physically taxing aspects of kingship, especially war. Success in war against the Muslims was just the sort of thing that could help to burnish the young heir’s reputation and legitimacy, both in his own kingdom and to the world of Christendom. Ferdinand was perhaps better suited to take the lead in such actions than his father; after all, Alfonso VIII had spent much of his reign trying to dominate his Christian neighbors. He could only count on Peter II of Aragon as a reliable ally; the kings of Navarre and León were outright hostile. Allowing the young infante to take the lead in a new crusade might have made actual cooperation between the Christian kingdoms, long the goal of Rome, possible. In truth, the shape of the new crusade had already begun to emerge. From the perspective of Alfonso VIII, the campaign that culminated in Las Navas effectively began with the expiration of the truces between the Almohad caliph and the kingdom of Castile in 1210. The sources provide ample evidence that neither side was much interested in extending the twelve-year peace that had prevented open warfare along the frontier. Indeed, Peter II had long been planning some sort of campaign against the Almohads. The king of Aragon had planned an expedition against Majorca as early as 1203, but it was not until 1210 that he was finally able to act. The planned attack was made in coordination with Rome, and Innocent III extended crusading privileges to participants in the campaign. The pope wrote to the newly-elected archbishop of Toledo in February 1210, asking him to encourage Alfonso VIII to follow the example of Peter II and turn his efforts towards “such a pious undertaking,” that is, war with the Almohads. At the very least, the Castilian monarch was not to prevent his subjects from joining the Aragonese crusade, which indeed many of them appear to have done. The campaign seized several castles in the north of the kingdom of Valencia from June to August. The Moroccan chronicler Ibn ʿIdhārī offered a detailed narration of events, as well as the quick counterstroke launched by Sayyid Abū-l-ʿUlā, the admiral of the Almohad naval forces, who led an Almohad naval raid, which was unleashed upon the Catalan coast that same summer. Ibn ʿIdhārī offered further insight into the Moroccan perspective in the transcribed letter his chronicle preserves from the Caliph al-Nās.ir, relating the details of his campaign to Iberia in 1211. The letter explains how the conflict began: “We learned that Christendom, when it had been many years without combat, and when its mountains and plains had forgotten the tramp of cav-

Alfonso VIII and the Battle of Las Navas de Tolosa 147 alry, and when the peace between the Almohads and the Lord of Castile was to reach its end, was plotting to ignite the fire of war, which so many times had been lit.” Other Arabic sources are not consistent in their explanation of the commencement of hostilities. Both al-Marrākusī and Ibn Abī Zarʿ place the beginning of the campaign in 1211, with the former attributing the initiative to alNās.ir, who “broke the treaty between he and Alfonso and seemed to orient himself toward the country of the Christians in order to make war”; the latter simply says Alfonso attacked the Muslims in early 1211, which was certainly true, as we will see, but this was not the beginning of the conflict. The Castilian chronicles uniformly credit Alfonso VIII for initiating conflict with the Almohads. Lucas of Túy provides the most specific casus belli, reporting that the king of Castile provoked war by populating the town of Moya, “within the borders of the barbarians,” and ignoring the caliph’s protestations. González dated the Moya incursion to 1210, based on the diplomatic evidence. Alvira Cabrer and García Fitz have argued that this expansionistic effort was likely coordinated with the Aragonese, as a joint effort to erode the Levantine frontier. The fortification of a new town to the south of the frontier was nearly an exact parallel of the steps that Alfonso VIII and his kingdom took during the initiation of hostilities with the Almohads in 1194. That campaign had begun with the fortification of the castle of Alarcos, site of the subsequent battle and defeat the following summer. The other Castilian sources all focus on the desire of Alfonso and his son, Ferdinand, to initiate hostilities. Archbishop Rodrigo and Juan of Osma, writing many years later, and both consciously promoting the posthumous image of Alfonso VIII as a great crusader, focused on the king’s desire to avenge the defeat and dishonor suffered many years before at Alarcos. The new conflict sprung from this desire for revenge. Rodrigo explained, “because he desired great things, he did not wish the truce to be prolonged further, and animated by strenuous conduct and the zeal of faith, in the name of the Lord he provoked war.” Alfonso VIII certainly took steps that indicated his bellicose intentions. In addition to the fortification of Moya, within the boundaries of al-Andalus, there is additional evidence of Castilian military activity in 1210. Alvira Cabrer noted a “curious incursion” of Castilian (and possibly Aragonese) troops into the region of Jaén in 1210. The principle evidence for this raid is a letter written by Abū Zayd ʿAbd al-Rahmān ibn ʿUmar, the governor of Jaén, to the Castilian king, protesting an incursion into his province. The governor demanded punishment of the men guilty of the raid, which, along with the diplomatic protests associated with the situation in Moya, indicated that the Almohads were concerned to stave off open conflict with the Castilians in 1210. The Castilians, however, appear to have been unconcerned. It may be that this raid into northern al-Andalus is the same “vastionem” mentioned by Archbishop Rodrigo, launched against Baeza, Úbeda, and Jaén. Huici Miranda argued,

148 Miguel Gómez implausibly, that these raids, undertaken by the king, his son, and the knights of Calatrava, took place in 1209, though the chronology in De Rebus Hispanie is unclear. It seems likely, however, that the sources are both pointing towards the same incident. Furthermore, the 1211 letter of the Caliph al-Nās.ir, recorded by Ibn ʿIdhārī, in which he reports the capture of Salvatierra, singles out the Calatravan knights of that very castle, and the king of Castile, as the parties responsible for violating the peace. Taken together, the archbishop’s remark, the governor’s letter, and the caliph’s report all point toward a Castilian raid on the upper Guadalquivir valley undertaken in summer 1210. Here again, the parallels with 1194 are evident. Then too, the fortification of new territory south of the frontier was accompanied by provocative and destructive raiding. It would seem, then, that when Innocent III wrote to the archbishop of Toledo in February, encouraging him to press Alfonso VIII to join his ally Peter II in his war against the Almohads, he would have found a receptive audience. The Castilians were quite prepared to take up the papacy’s call. In a series of letters exchanged over the winter of 1210–1211, Innocent put his weight behind the new project and when the pope wrote to the bishops of Spain to encourage a joint crusading effort against the Almohads in 1211, he noted the initiative of the dilectus filius of the Castilian monarch, Prince Ferdinand, who had written to ask for the assistance of Rome in promoting his desire to “expel the enemies of the Christian name from the lands of his inheritance, which they impiously occupy.” The pope also indicated, for the first time, that he believed the time for a larger crusading project in Spain may have been at hand, as he extended the crusade indulgence to any who assisted the prince, including pilgrims from abroad. Corresponding with the infante a few weeks later (and with his father, in a separate but nearly identical letter), Innocent III promised support and protection “at the time when he (Alfonso) or you fight the Saracens.” Nevertheless, the pope continued to play his hand cautiously. Alfonso had dispatched Tello, bishop of Palencia, to request a papal legate to organize the prospective campaign, but Innocent refused, citing the tempora impacta. Smith has argued that Innocent’s refusal to send a new legate likely stemmed partially from his confidence in the ecclesiastical leadership already in the peninsula. Despite the papacy’s reluctance to commit fully to the new conflict, the correspondence illuminates the war plan for 1211. As Innocent III understood it, Ferdinand had proposed to lead a campaign to drive the Almohads from Castilian territory. This was almost certainly a reference to the Campo de Calatrava, where the kingdom had lost territory to the Almohads in the aftermath of Alarcos some sixteen years before. But the king and prince were also certainly aware that the fortification of Moya, and the previous summer’s raiding, was likely to generate a response from Morocco, as it had in 1195. Then, Alfonso VIII had been caught off guard by a rapid campaign against the frontier launched from south of the straits; this time he would remain tactically flexible. The new year’s campaign season was planned to both pursue the desired

Alfonso VIII and the Battle of Las Navas de Tolosa 149 reconquest of land along the La Mancha frontier, and to meet the expected Almohad campaign. In April, Innocent III issued a letter to the archbishops of Toledo and Compostela, exhorting the kings of Castile and León to make peace in order to coordinate their efforts against al-Andalus. Around the same time, Alfonso VIII and Ferdinand launched a raid into al-Andalus at the head of the urban militias of Madrid, Huete, Guadalajara, and Cuenca, riding southeast from the valley of the Jucar towards Murcia. According to the Anales Toledanos they reached the sea near Xátiva before turning around. Simultaneously, the proposed attack into the valley of the Guadiana, south of Toledo, commenced when Alfonso Téllez and Rodrigo Rodríguez led the militia of Toledo in the siege and capture of the castle of Guadalerzas. Alvira Cabrer has argued convincingly that the cabalgada towards Murcia likely anticipated that the caliph’s efforts would be focused in the eastern regions of the peninsula, and directed against the Crown of Aragon, which had commenced the current war. Such a raid would deny supplies and resources to an Almohad army marching through the region, and perhaps to maneuver the enemy into attacking where a coordinated defense between the two kingdoms would be most easily achieved. The enemy, however, would not prove cooperative. Planning for the Almohad campaign was underway by March 1211, nearly simultaneous with the Castilian attacks. Preparations in Marrakech must have commenced in the previous year, further evidence that the raids of the previous summer marked the real beginning of hostilities. Al-Nās.ir crossed the straits in May, and “advanced to Seville with an army, like locusts taking flight, filling the hills and valleys.” After convening with the leaders of al-Andalus, and gathering forces from that side of the straits, he decided to direct his attack against the king of Castile, “who had committed the most excesses and done the most damage he could.” As mentioned above, the caliph singled out the castle of Salvatierra, the home of the knights of Calatrava, which lay in the very southernmost part of the frontier, technically within Muslim territory. By cutting off the “right hand of the lord of Castile,” the caliph hoped to demonstrate the “clearest proof of his weakness.” The castle was quickly surrounded, and the siege began in earnest in July. The siege of Salvatierra potentially shifted the initiative in the war from the Castilians to the Almohads, and might have been fatal to Christian plans. Alvira Cabrer has argued that the caliph hoped that by attacking Salvatierra, he might lure Alfonso VIII into an impetuous reaction, and defeat him as his father had done at Alarcos. This time, however, the king played his hand far more cautiously. Leaving his alferez Diego López de Haro and some of his forces to garrison Toledo, Alfonso VIII gathered together what forces he could from the urban militias. The host he was able to gather was not sufficient to consider lifting the siege, and so they remained in the Sierra de San Vicente, north of the Tagus River near Talavera. The caliph dispatched raiding parties against the Toledo frontier, “filling Toledo and its hinterlands with dread.” In August,

150 Miguel Gómez the king dispatched Ferdinand on a raid towards Trujillo and Montánchez, on the western side of the frontier, perhaps to tempt the Almohads into lifting the siege in pursuit. The raid would soon prove to be more than just unsuccessful; not only did the siege of Salvatierra continue, but also it seems more than likely that the prince was wounded or contracted an illness that would prove fatal. Alfonso VIII ordered the knights of Calatrava to surrender the castle in early September. The caliph granted the customary terms of surrender, and the defenders were allowed to withdraw with whatever property they could carry. Probably for logistical reasons, the Almohad army withdrew towards Seville after the siege. The fact that what might have been a destructive and irresistible Almohad campaign stalled out in the protracted siege of Salvatierra was not at all lost on the Christian chroniclers. Juan of Osma was most effusive, remarking that “with certain presentiment that castle was called truly Salvatierra, because by means of that castle, the Lord doubly saved the whole land, for the invasion of the king of Morocco, which could have resulted in great damage, did not at all hurt the realm that year. The capture of Salvatierra was, rather, the occasion for the glorious battle that occurred the following year at Las Navas de Tolosa, in which through the power of the cross of Christ the king of Morocco was conquered.” Archbishop Rodrigo focused on the sadness of the loss, which was “to the shame of the Christian faith.” Alfonso VIII, Rodrigo noted, “wished to commit himself to the dubious chances of war, but at the insistence of his firstborn Ferdinand, having enjoyed his sensible counsel, he ordered that the risk of war be put off until the following year; for opportunity delayed is better than rashness of reckless danger.” The chroniclers were, of course, doing a bit of foreshadowing, as well as burnishing the story of a bellicose and pious monarch, eager to confront his enemies. But Alfonso was rather more strategic in his thinking at this juncture. As noted above, al-Nās.ir certainly hoped that the siege of the castle would force the Castilians into a hasty defensive campaign, as had happened in 1195. But the Castilian monarch wisely chose to fight on his own terms, rather than ceding initiative to the enemy. Having decided not to try and challenge the Almohads in 1211, Alfonso VIII embarked upon the most significant decision of the entire campaign, and perhaps of his reign. Rodrigo and Juan of Osma both report that the king held a council (at which they were both likely present) with the magnates and bishops of the realm, and decided to seek battle with the Almohads the following year. “It was better,” explained the archbishop, “to test the will of heaven in war under crisis than to watch the ruin of the country from safety.” To seek open battle meant a departure from the usual patterns of frontier warfare, which had characterized the conflict during 1210 and 1211: long-distance raiding and sieges. But the loss of Salvatierra, the only advanced defensive position south of the Tagus (save the newly captured castle of Guadalerzas) would mean that the region of Toledo, and indeed the entire frontier, would be open to the sort of destructive campaigns which the Almohads had undertaken in the

Alfonso VIII and the Battle of Las Navas de Tolosa 151 wake of the battle of Alarcos. Abandoning a defensive posture, the king issued an edict at the end of September “that, having interrupted the construction of walls, which everyone had been building, all should gather weapons of war and prepare themselves for the coming battle.” The siege of Salvatierra placed the kingdom of Castile at the center of the war. In the spring of 1211, the Christians may well have anticipated an eastward thrust from the Almohads, but by the autumn, it was apparent that next phase of the war would play out in the south of Alfonso VIII’s kingdom. However, the Castilian decision to seek battle in 1212 was not a decision made in a vacuum. It was undertaken with a keen eye toward the larger strategic picture. Despite the chroniclers’ image of an impetuous king, desiring revenge but held back by the wise council of his son, Alfonso VIII almost certainly seized upon his plan to confront the Almohads the following year as soon as it appeared that the siege of Salvatierra would be a long one. From the commencement of hostilities in 1210, it was clear that Alfonso VIII and Peter II were coordinating their war efforts, and had likely considered the possibility of a joint action against the enemy. Moreover, despite his caution, Innocent III had encouraged and continued to offer support for this policy from February of that year, and it was certainly a chief interest of Archbishop Rodrigo, who would soon play a central role in organizing the upcoming crusade. Thus, Alfonso was not simply rolling the dice, or testing the will of heaven, as the sources suggested. Rather, the king was able to take advantage of the Almohad threat to leverage the resources— diplomatic, logistical, and military—that organizing the coming fight as a crusade could give to his kingdom.

The Uncertainty of Battle Having made his decision to seek battle, Alfonso VIII was dealt a serious blow when, on October 14, the infante Ferdinand succumbed to a fever and died in Madrid. The Christian sources lamented the passing of the young man and especially noted his parents’ grief: “the king’s heart broke,” and the queen, “hearing of her son’s death, wanted to die with him.” A contemporary song composed by the troubadour Guiraldo de Calansó noted the young prince’s wise counsel, and asserted that “all the worth of the famous and well-known King Arthur was reborn in him.” The troubadour went on to compare him favorably to his Plantagenet uncles, Henry the Young King, Richard the Lion-Heart, and Count Geoffrey of Brittany. The blow was certainly a serious one for the Castilian king and his dynasty. In Ferdinand, he lost his heir and the man who could most plausibly lead the kingdom’s forces in the coming campaign. But the dynasty was secure, in the persons of the infante Henry, Alfonso’s second son, and Berenguela, his talented daughter and effective successor. The plans would, therefore, go ahead, despite the loss of Ferdinand. While Berenguela and Archbishop Rodrigo interred the prince in Burgos, Alfonso met briefly at Cuenca

152 Miguel Gómez with Peter II, setting the date for the concentration of their forces at Toledo on the Octave of the Pentecost of the coming year. Then, having dispatched messengers abroad to secure further assistance for the coming campaign, he led the third Castilian cabalgada of the year, seizing several castles near Alarcón in the southeast of the kingdom, near the Aragonese border which had been the target of the campaign of 1210. While the king worked out his grief in combat, the messengers he set in motion in the autumn of 1211 began to communicate Alfonso’s plans to the wider world. Within Spain, this process had already begun, with the September edict to his own Castilian subjects, and with the October meeting with Peter II. Lucas of Túy informs us that messengers were also dispatched to Sancho VII of Navarre and Alfonso IX of León, both longtime rivals of the Castilian king. There is indication that neither responded positively to Alfonso VIII. Sancho VII did eventually join the campaign, but late in the process, and under pressure from the papal legate Arnau Amalric. The king of León’s negative response no doubt stemmed directly from the personal enmity between the two kings, but Lucas tells us that he agreed to join the cause if Alfonso VIII would agree to settle some of their border disputes. Alfonso VIII was, we are told, too busy to respond. Nevertheless, Alfonso IX did allow his subjects to join the campaign, and many did so. Similarly, the sources tell us nothing about any diplomatic missions directed at the kingdom of Portugal, though they must have existed. Afonso II was embroiled in a dynastic struggle with his sisters at that time, and so did not join the campaign. But like Alfonso IX, the Portuguese monarch gave his subjects leave to volunteer for the fight, and many of them did. The sources give us more details about the Castilian messengers dispatched to the rest of Europe, who recruited the substantial foreign contingents for the crusade. First among the messengers was the bishop-elect of Segovia, Geraldo, who was dispatched to Rome in mid-September. Geraldo’s mission convinced Innocent to deputize preachers for the crusade: from November forward, Archbishop Rodrigo was operating with papal authority in his recruiting efforts, and in January, the pope wrote to the archbishop of Sens and his suffragans, asking them to preach the crusade in the kingdom of France. The Archbishop of Toledo himself was also one of the principal diplomats and preachers for the campaign, and composed a letter communicating the papal endorsement and indulgences within the kingdom. At the behest of his king, Rodrigo visited France, and likely delivered Alfonso’s doleful letter to Philip Augustus, encouraging him to come and seek martyrdom in the coming battle. Unsurprisingly, the king of France, who was thoroughly occupied with his own conflict with John of England and Otto IV, and was at the best of times a reluctant crusader, did not respond positively. In fact, the accounts of Rodrigo’s mission suggest that he had little success convincing anyone in the north of France to join the crusade. The Chronica Latina mentions that he “was not able to rouse any of them.” Alfonso also dispatched his own physician, Master Arnold, to Poitou

Alfonso VIII and the Battle of Las Navas de Tolosa 153 and Gascony, i.e. the Angevin lands of the south. Arnold “promised many things in the king’s name,” and may well have been the most successful recruiter of the campaign, as the sources indicate that many of the foreign crusaders came from these regions. The sources, especially the Chronica Latina, almost certainly take for granted the familial and dynastic connections established by the marriage of Alfonso VIII to Leonor Plantagenet which doubtlessly helped the successful recruiting campaign in these regions. There is also substantial evidence that the Castilian court, more likely in the person of Archbishop Rodrigo than Alfonso VIII, carefully shaped the message these envoys carried north of the Pyrenees. Rodrigo’s own crusade encyclical, while including many elements of crusading rhetoric showing the influence of Rome, contains elements that point toward the creation of recruitment propaganda from within the Iberian Peninsula as well. The merits of death in defense of the Christian faith, for example, are a recurring theme in much of the writing coming from the Castilian leadership during the buildup to the campaign. The pope’s letter to the bishops of France, and Alfonso VIII’s own letter to Philip Augustus also dwell upon the idea. Writing to Philip, the Castilian king said that in the coming conflict “we expect nothing less than death.” The messages sent to Rome in the hands of Geraldo of Segovia must have repeated this expectation, and it may have been here that Innocent picked up on this theme, which he duly repeated in his January 1212 crusade bull directed toward the French episcopate. This fateful theme, clearly a rhetorical flourish designed to convey the crisis atmosphere that surrounded the planning stages of the campaign, was not the only element of propaganda to find its way into the recruitment process. Many sources, most prominently a letter from Innocent III to the archbishops of Spain dated to April 1212, and Arnau Amalric’s letter reporting the victory sent to the Cistercian General Chapter in August, after the battle, repeat a threat purportedly issued prior to the campaign by the Almohad Caliph, Al-Nās.ir, to bring war not only to Spain, but to all of Christendom, and to fight against all “who adore the cross.” The details of this threat from the enemy monarch, dubbed “Miramamolin’s challenge” by Alvira Cabrer, appear in a vast number of chronicles, annals, and histories from all over Europe reporting on the battle. While Alvira Cabrer concludes that the “challenge” is essentially a diverse rumor, impossible to pin down in its origin, and which grew over time in the retelling, O’Callaghan labeled it “a piece of propaganda concocted by the Christians,” which “preachers quoted . . . to stir the faithful to war.” The most proximate sources to the campaign of 1212 all indicate that the “challenge” was reported during preparations and the recruitment process. The contemporary Anales Toledanos reported that “the pope gave such a remission to the entire world . . . because the king of Morocco said he would fight with whoever adored the Cross in the whole world.” Arnau Amalric, at the beginning of his report on the battle, labeled the enemy “Miramomelinus, king of Morocco, who, as we

154 Miguel Gómez heard from many times, had declared war on all who adore the Cross.” Similarly, while exhorting cooperation among the monarchs of Christian Spain, Innocent noted that the “enemies of the cross” intended to not only destroy the Spanish, but to oppress other Christian lands as well. Innocent could only have heard of this “challenge” from one avenue in the spring of 1212: the request for aid sent to Rome by Alfonso VIII the previous autumn. The repetition of the “challenge” strongly suggests that it was part of a successful propaganda effort on the part of the Castilian court. Alfonso VIII, or more likely his archbishop, drove much of the planning and recruitment process. Once the recruitment process was set in motion, the king turned his efforts towards the logistical preparations. As late as February, Innocent III was still advising caution: writing to inform Alfonso VIII about his efforts to recruit crusaders from France, the pope advised renewing the truces with the Almohads if necessary. As Smith has argued, the pope was worried about the possibility of another disaster on the scale of Alarcos or Hattin. After all, he had known nothing but disappointment in his career as a crusader. But by that point, it was too late to stop the huge project that had been set in motion. Archbishop Rodrigo tells us that “the noble Alfonso convened his people, collected weapons, amassed victuals, and above all prepared hearts for war, and so everything was concentrated in Toledo, which alone was able, on account of its wealth, to see to the needs of all.” The biggest logistical project was the massive levy of half the revenues of the clergy of the kingdom of Castile. The source that tells us of this exceptional payment, Juan of Osma, does not offer any details, but the sum may well have been in excess of 500,000 maravedís, probably equal to the annual total of the king’s usual revenue. This remarkable contribution was not without precedent, as this was indeed the period in which regular taxation of clerical revenues for the purpose of the crusade was developed and institutionalized. However, half the annual clerical revenue of the entire kingdom was an extraordinary amount. Such an extreme measure was certainly in line with the preparations made by Alfonso VIII and his kingdom, and the massive requisition of wealth was pivotal for the success of the crusade. Reporting on the financial burden of the campaign to the pope, Alfonso VIII said, “though the cost for us and our kingdom was onerous and nearly unsupportable . . . God provided for us abundantly.” By February, crusaders began arriving in Toledo. Archbishop Rodrigo narrated on the arrival of the diverse groups of crusaders and remarked on the king’s preparations and generosity: “Nor was there anyone who could allege a lack of anything, since that city itself provided abundance, and since the generous hand of the noble prince supplied for everybody all necessities.” The king assigned Rodrigo himself to manage the enormous logistical operation of housing and supplying the growing horde of knights, soldiers, servants, and followers. The king’s logistical and financial support in this period was pivotal. The Chronica Latina reports, “Such a quantity of gold was distributed everyday that the

Alfonso VIII and the Battle of Las Navas de Tolosa 155 counters and weighers could scarcely count the multitude of coins which were necessary.” This reference to the payment of large sums of gold coins is confirmed by archaeological evidence; two gold maravedís were discovered in the ruins of the castle of Alarcos, besieged by the army during the campaign. The coins were minted in Toledo, and bear the date “year 1250 of Safar,” or AD 1212. These were the usual Castilian coins minted by Alfonso VIII at various points throughout his reign, closely modeled on the maravedís of al-Andalus. The king, though pouring his resources into the gathering army, stayed away from the chaotic scenes in the city. The scheduled rendezvous for the campaign was the Octave of Pentecost, which fell on May 20 that year. Alfonso was still in Burgos as late as May 15, but must have made his way quickly to Toledo after that, as he was certainly there by May 27. Peter II arrived around the Octave as well. The Castilian monarch included his old ally in his logistical efforts, and was apparently largely funding the Aragonese campaign. Juan of Osma reports that Alfonso was providing Peter with a daily stipend in addition to a substantial advance before he left his own kingdom. The largest contingents of ultramontani arrived around the same time though some, including Arnau Amalric, who led a large contingent of crusaders from Languedoc, did not arrive until early June. This time must have been taken up with councils of war, which the sources tell us nothing about. But as the campaign unfolded, it seems clear that the leaders of the crusade agreed to follow the Castilian plan from the 1211 campaign season: advance into the Campo de Calatrava and retake strongholds there lost years before after the battle of Alarcos. Doing so would no doubt offer the best chance for luring the Almohad forces north for the desired confrontation. After all, Alarcos itself had been fought in that very region of the frontier, and that is where al-Nās.ir had campaigned the year before when he captured the castle of Salvatierra. By that point, the lengthy stay in Toledo, and the massive logistical effort required to feed and supply this stationary army, which must have grown quite large by that point, left everyone anxious to depart. Arnau Amalric captured the impatience of the crusaders: “Since the army had already been encamped in Toledo for more than four weeks and already weary of delay, burned with desire to begin the march against the Saracen peoples.” The army finally decamped, moving in three columns (the Castilians, the Aragonese, and the ultramontani) around 18 June. Diego López de Haro, one of Alfonso VIII’s closest advisors, guided the French force. The army spread out, presumably so as not to overcrowd the roads or overtax water sources. Diego led his column along an easterly route that took them to the castle of Malagón, a northern Almohad outpost, on June 24. Away from the Castilian column, and thus Alfonso’s influence, the French and Provençal crusaders surrounded the castle, and took it after a brief but violent siege. The garrison, despite offering to surrender, was massacred. Alfonso VIII, in his letter to Innocent III reporting on the campaign, glossed over the violent episode, saying simply that upon

156 Miguel Gómez arriving at the castle, the ultramontani “attacking en masse took it, with God’s help.” The Chronica Latina took a more critical tone, and observed that the French crusaders captured the castle, “cutting down whoever they found there for no purpose.” The massacre at Malagón would prove important a few days later, when the columns of the army converged near the castle of Calatrava on June 26. It was apparently at this point that the first murmurs of discontent began to emerge from the French forces. Archbishop Rodrigo reported some minor supply issues, but they were apparently resolved. Nonetheless, Alfonso VIII, in his report of the campaign, identified logistical issues as the primary source of discord: Though we provided them generously with all necessities, they (the ultramontani), worrying about the hardship of the terrain, which was empty and somewhat hot, taking up the idea of turning back, wished to return home. Eventually, with great insistence from us and from the king of Aragon, they proceeded as far as Calatrava. The castle was besieged from June 28–30, but the garrison offered stiff resistance, led by their alcaide Ibn Qâdis. Noting that the siege could take some time, and that damaging the castle would make it difficult for the knights of Calatrava (who were without a headquarters since the loss of the castle of Salvatierra the previous September) to occupy and hold it, the attackers negotiated a surrender. The entire garrison was allowed to leave, with their personal possessions and horses. The terms of the surrender were immediately the cause of some disagreement. In his letter to the pope, Alfonso VIII states that he refused the garrison’s initial offer to surrender, abandoning all of their equipment. At length, he suggests that he let the king of Aragon and the French convince him of the utility of a quick end to the siege. Alfonso’s letter and Archbishop Rodrigo’s account both insist that the supplies left within the castle were handed over entirely to the Aragonese and ultramontani, with the Castilians retaining nothing for themselves. This insistence on Castilian generosity, however, masked a real disagreement with the foreign crusaders, who just a few days before had shown their unwillingness to negotiate the surrender of Muslim garrisons. The French chroniclers Alberic of Trois-Fontaines, writing at his Cistercian monastery in Champagne in the 1230s, reported that the negotiations for the surrender of Calatrava were not as above-board as Alfonso VIII suggested in his report to the pope. According to Alberic: With nightfall interrupting the fighting, the chief counselors of the Saracens came to the little king (Alfonso VIII) secretly asking that if he would leave them their lives, they would depart that night in their shirt-sleeves, unknown to the French. And they surrendered the castle to him, with all its furnishings, supplies, weapons, and treasures, which the king had granted

Alfonso VIII and the Battle of Las Navas de Tolosa 157 them, and he set up his garrison in the castle. When the French learned of this the next day, the archbishop of Bordeaux and the bishop of Nantes went home in indignation. This version of events is also supported by an anecdote reported by al-Marrākusī, who gave voice to the indignant crusaders: “You brought us here solely that we could help you conquer your land, and now you prevent us from plundering and killing the Muslims. Because of this we will not accompany you further.” This last account makes a great deal of sense. The garrison would have every reason to negotiate with Alfonso VIII, and not with the ultramontani, who had so recently proved themselves less than merciful towards their Muslim foes. Moreover, Alfonso would have every reason to accept the surrender of the castle intact. Before its loss in 1195, it had served as the principal headquarters for the Order of Calatrava, and the central defensive point for the entire frontier south of Toledo. Accepting the peaceful surrender of the fortress was the best option for the Castilians. But in addition to the immediate concerns, the conflict over Calatrava illuminates the divergent goals and expectations of the crusaders. The ultramontani had come expecting a battle with the forces of the Almohad caliph. So too were the Castilians, though it is clear that, at least in part, Alfonso was still operating under his war plan for 1211—expelling the Almohads from the boundaries of his kingdom. The two goals, while not incompatible, were nevertheless divergent enough to cause a rift amongst the crusaders. In the aftermath of the surrender of Calatrava, the crusade faced its first real crisis. The French and Provençal contingents abandoned the campaign en masse, with a very few choosing to stay. Arnau Amalric estimated that forty thousand men departed, although he and a handful of men from Poitou and Vienne remained. The Chronica Latina insisted that it was the summer heat that was the primary issue, though added that there was some disappointment that, already two weeks into the campaign, they had yet to encounter the Almohad forces. Lucas of Túy reports that the French were homesick and, “deciding amongst themselves that no one wanted to remain and no one expected there to be a battle, they returned home.” Archbishop Rodrigo had the most providential explanation, attributing it to sabotage caused by Satan. In reality, it was likely a combination of many factors that led to the desertion. The weather was certainly hot, and the terrain difficult. The Almohad army was still not in sight. As described above, the surrender at Calatrava had exposed real differences in expectations for the campaign. Supplies may have been an issue, though the Christian forces remained in the field for several more weeks without experiencing serious logistical issues. Perhaps most significantly, there is some evidence that many of the foreign crusaders, who had been recruited in the south of France, considered their crusade vows fulfilled. It had become customary, especially in the recruitment for the Albigensian crusade against heretics in Languedoc, for crusade preachers to offer the crusade indulgence for forty days

158 Miguel Gómez of service on campaign. The first murmurings that the French crusaders might leave came around June 27, thirty-eight days after the official beginning of the campaign on the Octave of the Pentecost (May 20). They went home around July 3, the 44th day of the campaign. The conflicts with the foreign crusaders also brought to the fore the question of who, exactly, was leading the campaign. Though the Castilian sources work hard to suggest that Alfonso VIII deferred to Peter II and the ultramontani regularly, it was also the case that the campaign was preceding through territory that was nominally part of the kingdom of Castile. Indeed, the Church took it as a general principle that the rights of rulers were to be respected by crusaders operating within their realm. But in the conflict with the French, the issue of Alfonso’s rights as ruler certainly was a point of contention. Moreover, one source, the letter attributed to the king’s own daughter, Blanche of Castile, remarks that Alfonso’s leadership was again contested just a few days after the French departure. This time, the Castilian monarch apparently suggested redirecting the campaign against his cousin, Alfonso IX of León; Sancho VII of Navarre, who joined the army near Calatrava, and Peter II vetoed the suggestion, noting they had come to fight the Almohads, not fellow Christians. The veracity of the story aside (it is certainly plausible, but perhaps unlikely), the episode illustrates the limits of Alfonso’s leadership role in the campaign. The Castilian ruler, whether due to personality, or due to his contentious history with his fellow kings, does not appear to have been the natural leader of the campaign. As noted above, he may have anticipated these difficulties, and had worked to position his son as the leader of the crusade. Alfonso VIII was certainly its principal figure, but his authority within the army was by no means absolute or unchallenged. On the other hand, it was perhaps a testament to the leadership of Alfonso VIII (and Peter II) that the rest of the army remained together and in the field after the French withdrawal. News of the impending arrival of Sancho VII and his forces no doubt boosted morale, and while Peter II waited for the king of Navarre’s arrival, Alfonso VIII employed his forces to capture several nearby castles, including Alarcos, site of his earlier defeat. The army reunited before Salvatierra shortly thereafter, but rather than besieging the recently captured fortress, they decided to advance quickly towards the Puerto de Muradal, the pass through which the old Roman road descended into the valley of the Guadalquivir and Andalusia. The caliph’s forces, who had been delayed by the flooding of the Guadalquivir (for a second year in a row), had already arrived at the pass and secured it, so that the Christian forces could not advance. Faced with this difficulty, the leaders of the crusade held a council of war in the tent of Alfonso VIII. There was concern that logistical issues, and especially a lack of sufficient water, would prevent the army from remaining in the Sierra Morena for very long. Some counseled ending the campaign, while

Alfonso VIII and the Battle of Las Navas de Tolosa 159 others argued that they must retreat and search for another pass through the mountains. The sources all agree that Alfonso VIII was strident in his conviction that they could not retreat once the enemy had been spotted. Archbishop Rodrigo, in the first direct quotation attributed to the king in his account of the campaign, relates that Alfonso argued, Although this plan (retreating in order to find a different route through he mountains) is full of wisdom, it also carries a danger; when our followers see us retreating, they will believe that we do not seek battle, and are fleeing the conflict, and this will create desertion in the army which we will not be able to stop; but since we see the enemy already close by, we must advance to meet them. Let it be done as heaven wills it. The quotation is, of course, more of Archbishop Rodrigo’s good story telling, and very much in line with his portrayal of the king: eager to take his chances in battle, prudence aside. But despite this narrative framing, events would unfold in a way that followed closely to the king’s comment. The first direct quotation of the king perhaps gives us a sense that he could yet direct the course of the campaign. The council broke up at sunset, without a decision being reached. According to Juan of Osma, Alfonso VIII remained in his tent, chatting with García Romeo, the alférez of Peter II. The two were apparently interrupted by a local shepherd who, noticing the army’s difficulty, offered to show them a path through the mountains by which they could bypass the Puerto de Muradal. This visit would quickly morph into one of the most famous miracle stories associated with the campaign. In the retelling, el Pastor de Las Navas was perhaps an angel, perhaps Saint Isidore. All of the contemporary sources were certainly convinced that the shepherd was sent by God to assist them in their hour of need. The archbishop was quite direct in his account: the will of heaven, invoked a few lines before by Alfonso was revealed, because “omnipotent God had marked the campaign with special grace.” García Romeo and Diego Lopéz de Haro followed the man in the waning light, and saw indeed that there was a path that the army could use. As the Christian sources framed it, Alfonso’s confidence, steadfastness, and faith had been rewarded with divine intervention; perhaps he just got lucky. In any event, the campaign had survived another crisis moment. The following day, Friday, July 14, the army crossed the mountains on the shepherd’s path, and encamped across a shallow valley from the Almohad forces. Almohad skirmishers tried to prevent the Christian forces from establishing their camp, but were driven off. Alfonso’s letter to the pope described the skirmishing as “like in a tournament.” The following day, the caliph’s forces deployed for battle, but the Christian army rested. Alfonso explained that they wanted “to study the numbers, disposition, and status of their men,

160 Miguel Gómez and how they behaved. We took advice from our veterans, and decided to wait until the following day, Monday.” It also allowed them to observe the Sabbath, confess, take communion, and in some cases, prepare their wills. Ultimately, the day of rest and observation was a solid tactical decision. It was also a safe one, as the Christians were able to maintain a defensive stance, which would have given them the advantage had al-Nās.ir decided to attack. The fact that he did not suggests that the tactical surprise achieved by the march through the mountains was considerable, and that, despite the insistence of the Christian sources, the Almohad army was not so numerous as to have an unequivocal advantage. Monday started well before dawn for the crusader host. The early start allowed them to arrange their battle lines just so: the Castilian knights in the center, the Aragonese to the left, and the Navarrese to the right. The urban militias of the towns of Castile, who likely made up the bulk of the troops present, were distributed in all three columns, and the respective monarchs took their place in the last lines. The conservative, relatively safe position of the monarchs in the final line of battle perhaps reflected the caution of Alfonso VIII, who had nearly been killed in his previous battlefield experience at Alarcos. The two younger monarchs did not necessarily share the older king’s cautious attitude, and all three rulers would end up close to the action. So arranged, the Christian army advanced against the Almohad camp. The terrain was difficult, to be sure, and likely offered advantage to the Almohads, in their defensive position. The majority of the battle took place in a low valley between the two ridges upon which the armies had encamped, which meant that the Christian offensive had to move uphill. The battle lines raged back and forth, and the day remained unresolved until the Castilian reserves were committed to the battle, as narrated at the beginning of this study. As the tide turned, the Caliph al-Nās.ir fled, and the battle became a rout. The archbishop recounted saying to Alfonso VIII, at the end of the battle, “Bear in mind the grace of God that mended all your shortcomings and has now erased the disgrace that you have endured for so long. Also remember your knights, with whose help you have achieved such great glory.”

The Crown of Victory After resting for two days following the battle, the campaign continued south, capturing castles and fortresses of the upper Guadalquivir valley along the way. The last actions were the capture of the towns of Baeza and Úbeda. Baeza had been abandoned by its populace as the Christian host approached, and they took refuge in nearby Úbeda. The crusaders attacked, and were about to capture the city by storm, when the inhabitants asked for terms. They offered a substantial payment for their freedom and security, but the bishops intervened, noting that the city had been taken, and the garrison had lost any right to sur-

Alfonso VIII and the Battle of Las Navas de Tolosa 161 render. Thousands of the inhabitants were taken as slaves back to Christian lands. Alfonso VIII, in his letter to the pope, said that many of these slaves were put to work repairing monasteries in the frontier regions. The campaign was brought to a close by the outbreak of illness in the army. The Chronica Latina reports that it was “flux of the stomach” which afflicted the army, a common enough problem for large groups encamped in less than clean conditions. However, Juan of Osma also mentions that there was another epidemic in the region (Castile, presumably), which killed many elderly people who had nothing to do with the campaign. Archbishop Rodrigo asserted that the illness was a punishment from God against the Christians who had plundered and raped during the final days of the crusade. The kings held a final council of war, and decided to return north. The army retraced its steps to Calatrava, where they encountered Duke Leopold of Austria and his forces, who had arrived too late to take part in the campaign. At that point, the three monarchs parted company: Peter II returned to Aragon, in the company of Duke Leopold. Sancho VII and Alfonso VIII parted on equitable terms, after the Castilian king pledged to restore some of the Navarrese castles he had captured during their earlier conflicts. Alfonso VIII and the Castilians returned triumphantly to Toledo. There they were met by the “bishops, clerics, and all the people in a procession to the church of the blessed Virgin Mary, with great praising of God and musical acclaim, because their king had returned healthy, uninjured, and crowned with the crown of victory.” The battle, as nearly every battle, was not decisive for what was won in combat, but for the political choices available to the victors and the vanquished. For al-Nās.ir, the choices were few. He returned to Morocco after the battle, but not before issuing a letter to his Andalusian subjects, in which he downplayed the severity of his defeat. In essence, he was correct. The governors of alAndalus were able quickly to reoccupy the fortresses and cities of the upper Guadalquivir, and even launch raids into Christian territory before the end of 1212. But the caliph himself would play no further part in the frontier struggle. He died prematurely in Marrakech in late 1213, leaving behind a ten-yearold heir, Yūsuf II. It was certainly this royal minority, more than the caliph’s defeat in battle, which contributed to the rapid decline of the Almohad Empire, but there is no question that Las Navas damaged the prestige of the dynasty in al-Andalus, and discouraged future Moroccan rulers from adventuring in the peninsula. When Ferdinand III began his conquests in the late 1220s, he faced a series of divided city-states, not a united empire spanning the Straits. For Alfonso VIII, the victory had, in effect, mended his shortcomings and erased past disgraces. It gave the king new confidence and new direction. No longer would he pursue the hegemony over his Christian neighbors which his ancestors had enjoyed. He had found the prestige that he had sought, not in reviving his grandfather’s empire, but by successfully meeting the challenge

162 Miguel Gómez of the crusade. Despite the fact that Alfonso IX of León had again attacked the kingdom of Castile during a moment of crisis, Alfonso VIII quickly settled with his recalcitrant and long-aggrieved cousin. Juan of Osma explained that “the glorious king, wishing to end his life with honor and glory in war against the Moors, did not call to mind what the king of León had done, but wanted to settle amicably with him so that they could help one another against the Moors.” Indeed they did just that, coordinating campaigns against their southern frontiers in 1213. In the two years of life left to him, Alfonso VIII conducted two more campaigns into Andalusia, before, on account of severe crop failures in Castile, settling a truce with the Almohads in 1214. When Alfonso VIII died in October 1214, after fifty-six years on the Castilian throne, he left behind a very different kingdom than the one he had inherited as a child. The Castile of 1158 was on the defensive against the vigorous Almohad Empire. Unable to easily pursue expansion against Muslims of al-Andalus, Alfonso and his contemporaries spent most of their years vying with each other for hegemony. This had proved an attractive goal, despite nearly constant papal efforts to redirect their energies outward and toward al-Andalus. But ultimately, it had proved frustrating. Instead he found the prestige he sought when he embraced the institutions of the crusade developed by the papacy over the late twelfth and early thirteenth centuries. The crusade was, in essence, the medieval Church’s successful effort to redirect the energies of the warrior classes into projects that they saw as positive, or at the very least, not negative, as the fratricidal wars of the Iberian Peninsula were regarded. In the war that culminated in the battle of Las Navas de Tolosa, Alfonso VIII finally saw the advantages of Rome’s vision. The prestige that followed his victory fundamentally reshaped the political outlook of his kingdom and his successors, at least for a few generations. After the success that Alfonso VIII enjoyed at Las Navas de Tolosa, the kings of Castile would seek to make their reputation as crusaders. Notes 1. “ ‘Archiepiscope, ego et vos hic moriamur.’ Qui respondit ei: ‘Nequaquam, inmo hos prevalebitis inimicis.’ ” DRH, bk. 8, ch. 10, 272. 2. “Rex Castelle . . . precepit illi, qui vexillum eius ante ipsum gestabat, ut urgeret equum calcaribus et properaret concito montem ubi erat impetus belli conscendere; quod et statim factum est. Quo cum ascenderunt Christiani, videntes Mauri sibi quasi novas acies imminere, cedunt virtute Domini nostril Iesu Christi superati.” CLRC, ch. 24, 62. 3. “Nos autem insequentes eos usque ad noctem, plures tamen insequendo interfecimus quam in bello.” Alfonso VIII’s letter to Innocent III, in González, Alfonso VIII, 3:570, no. 897. 4. And as such, it is also quite well-studied. The most complete studies of the battle of Las Navas de Tolosa are Martín Alvira Cabrer, Las Navas de Tolosa 1212: Idea, liturgia y memoria de la batalla (Silex: Madrid, 2012), and Francisco García Fitz, Las Navas de Tolosa (Ariel: Barcelona, 2005). The recent collection of papers in Patrice

Alfonso VIII and the Battle of Las Navas de Tolosa 163 Cressier and Vicente Salvatierra Cuenca, eds., Las Navas de Tolosa 1212–2012: Miradas Cruzadas (Jaén: Universidad de Jaén, 2014) presents some new research on the battle itself, and far more on the context and period, including some invaluable archaeological studies. Similarly, Nicolás Callejas Sánchez, Batalla de Las Navas de Tolosa: Ochocientos años después (Jaén: ImprentÁvila, 2010) presents an extensive archaeological study of the battle. See also the series of essays published as a special edition of the Journal of Medieval Iberian Studies 4.1 (March 2012). Older studies of the battle include María Dolores Rosado Llamas and Manuel Gabriel López Payer, La Batalla de Las Navas de Tolosa (Jaen: Caja Rural Jaen, 2001) and Ambrosio Huici Miranda, Estudio sobre la campaña de Las Navas de Tolosa (Valencia, 1916). Most of the details of the campaign discussed below are considered more extensively in Miguel Gómez, ‘The Battle of Las Navas de Tolosa: The Culture and Practice of Crusading in Medieval Iberia’ (PhD diss., University of Tennessee, 2011). 5. On the memory of the battle, see Alvira Cabrer, Las Navas de Tolosa, 471–508. 6. Miguel Gómez, “Las Navas de Tolosa and the culture of crusade in the Kingdom of Castile,” Journal of Medieval Iberian Studies (hereafter JMIS) 4 (2012): 53–57. 7. For Alfonso VII, see Bernard F. Reilly, The Kingdom of León-Castilla under Alfonso VII, 1126–1157 (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1998). 8. The most complete study of Alarcos remains Ambrosio Huici Miranda, “La campaña de Alarcos,” Revista del Instituto Egipcio de Estudios Islámicos en Madrid 2 (1954): 1–71. Also see González, Alfonso VIII, 1:952–70; Juan Zozaya, ed., Alarcos 1195: El fiel de la balanza (Toledo: Junta de Comunidades de Castilla-La Mancha, 1995). 9. On this, see Miguel Gómez and Kyle Lincoln, “ ‘The sins of the sons of men’: A new letter of Pope Celestine III concerning the 1195 Crusade of Alarcos,” Crusades16 (October 2017). 10. “Manebat in alta mente regis positum, quod nunquam de ipsa exciderat: infortunium quod passus fuerat in bello de Alarcos.” CLRC, ch. 18, 53. 11. On the education of Rodrigo, see Juan Fernández Valverde, ed., DRH, ix. Influential theologians such as Peter the Chanter were promoting a vision of crusade as part of the new emphasis on pastoral reform. See Jessalynn Bird, “Innocent III, Peter the Chanter’s Circle, and the Crusade Indulgence: Theory, Implementation, and Aftermath,” in Innocenzo III, Urbs et Orbis, ed. Andrea Sommerlechner (Rome, 2003), 503–24, esp. 504–8. 12. Bernard Reilly suggests as much in his article, “Alfonso VIII, the Castilian Episcopate, and the Accession of Rodrigo Jiménez de Rada as Archbishop of Toledo in 1210,” Catholic Historical Review 99 (2013), 450–52. For Alfonso’s recommendation of Rodrigo to the pope, see MDI, 416, no. 398. 13. “Ardebat desiderio guerre Sarracenorum,” CLRC, ch. 18, 53. Prince Ferdinand was born in November 1189: AT, 158; González, Alfonso VIII, 1:207. 14. “Rex gloriosus . . . delectabatur in eo, gratias agens Domino, qui filium talem dederat ei qui posset iam coadiutor.” CLRC, ch. 18, 53. 15. González argues that Alfonso VIII was already preparing for the renewal of hostilities in 1209. See González, Alfonso VIII, 1:982. 16. Damian Smith, Innocent III and the Crown of Aragon: The Limits of Papal Authority (Burlington: Ashgate, 2004), 40–42. 17. Ibid., 89–92.

164 Miguel Gómez 18. MDI, 436, no. 416: “ad opus huismodi pietatis.” 19. Martín Alvira Cabrer, “Prendiendo el fuego de la guerra. Operaciones militares en las fronteras Cristiano-Almohades,” in Iglesia, Guerra y Monarquía en la Edad Media, ed. José Peña and Manuel Alejandro Rodríguez de la Peña González (Madrid: CEU Ediciones, 2009), 139–92. See especially his table listing Castilian participants in the battle, 188. 20. L. Barrau Dihigo and J. Massó Torrents, eds., Gesta Comitum Barcinonensium (Barcelona, 1925), 17; Alvira Cabrer, Las Navas de Tolosa, 67. 21. Ibn ʿIdhārī al-Marrākusī, Al–Bayān al–mugrib fī ijtişār ajbār muluk al–Andalus wa al–Magrib, trans. and ed. Ambrosio Huici Miranda, 2 vols. (Tetuán: Editora Marroquí, 1954), 2:258. 22. Ibid, 265–66. 23. Abū Muhammad ʿAbd al-Wah.id, Kitāb al-muʿŷib fī taljīs ajbār al-Magrib, ed. and trans. Ambrosio Huici Miranda (Tetuán: Editora Marroqui, 1955), 265; Ibn Abī Zarʿ, Rawd al Qirtas, ed. and trans. Ambrosio Huici Miranda, 2 vols. (Valencia, 1964), 1:455. 24. “In confinio barbarorum,” CM, bk. 4, ch. 87, 327. 25. González, Alfonso VIII, 1:982; 3:537-38, no. 879. 26. Alvira Cabrer, Las Navas de Tolosa, 66; García Fitz, Las Navas de Tolosa, 140. 27. DRH, bk. 7, ch. 28–29, 250–51; AT, 392–93; CLRC, ch. 12, 44–45. See note 8. 28. DRH, bk. 7, ch. 33, 256; CLRC, ch. 18, 52-54. 29. Alvira Cabrer, Las Navas de Tolosa, 68. 30. Martín Alvira Cabrer, ed., Pedro el Católico, Rey de Aragón y Conde de Barcelona : 1196-1213, Documentos, testimonios y memoria histórica, 6 vols. (Zaragoza: Institución Fernando el Católico, 2010), 3:1119–21, no. 1066. 31. DRH, bk. 7, ch. 35, 257. 32. Ambrosio Huici Miranda, Historia política del Imperio Almohade, 2 vols. (Tetuán: Editora Marroqui, 1957), 2:416; idem, Estudio sobre la campaña de las Navas de Tolosa (Valencia: Vives Mora, 1916), 20–21. 33. Ibn ‘Idhārī, 266–67. 34. CLRC, ch. 12, 44; DRH, Bk. 7, c. 28, 250–51. 35. “Significavit nobis dliectus filius Fernandus primogenitus karissimi in Christo filii nostri Aldefondi illustris regis Castelle, quod ipse militie sue primitias Omnipotenti Deo desiderans dedicare ad exterminandos inimicos nominis christiani de finibus hereditatis ipsius.” MDI, 472, no. 442. On these letters also see Ayala Martínez’s comments in the current volume. 36. Damian Smith, “The Papacy, the Spanish Kingdoms and Las Navas de Tolosa,” Anuario de Historia de La Iglesia 20 (2011): 172. 37. MDI, 476, nos. 447–48: “tempore quo ipsum vel tu sarracenos impugnatis.” 38. Smith, “Papacy,” 173. 39. MDI, 480–81, no. 451. 40. AT, 170; CLRC, ch. 18, 53. 41. CLRC, ch. 18, 53. 42. Alvira Cabrer, “Prendiendo el fuego de la guerra,” 182–83. 43. Ibn Abī Zarʿ, 239;al-Marrākusī , 265; Ibn ʿIdhārī, 263. 44. Ibn Abī Zarʿ, 239

Alfonso VIII and the Battle of Las Navas de Tolosa 165 45. Ibn ʿIdhārī, 266. 46. The caliph’s letter, transcribed by Ibn ʿIdhārī, suggests that the target of Salvatierra was in part chosen because rain had delayed the advance of the Almohad army until midsummer, rather late in the campaign season. Ibn ʿIdhārī, 266. 47. Ibn ʿIdhārī, 266. 48. See also Ibn Abī Zarʿ, 241–42; al-Marrākusī, 265. 49. Alvira Cabrer, “Prendiendo el fuego de la guerra,” 183. 50. CLRC, ch. 19, 54. DRH, bk. 7, ch. 35, 257. The CLRC reports that few of the urban militias joined the king there, presumably because their terms of service had been fulfilled during the spring campaigns, or concern about an Almohad advance north of the Tajo kept the militias at home. 51. Ibn ʿIdhārī, 268. 52. AT, 171. 53. CLRC, ch. 19, 54, and AT, 170 both place the surrender in September. Ibn ʿIdhārī, 268, dates the caliph’s letter, reporting the capture of the castle, to September 13. 54. CLRC, ch. 19, 54. For the usual terms of siege warfare, see Joseph O’Callaghan, Reconquest and Crusade (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2003), 135–40. For a discussion on crusading and the conventions of war, see John France, Western Warfare in the Age of the Crusades, 1000–1300 (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1999), 226–29; Helen Nicholson, Medieval Warfare in Europe, 300–1500 (New York: Palgrave McMillan, 2004), 130. 55. Ibn Abī Zarʿ, 242, suggests as much. Given the lateness of the season, al-Nās.ir would not have had time to conduct any further sieges against the strongpoints of the Tajo valley, and so was unlikely to make much headway during the remainder of 1211. 56. “Vere quidem presagio quodam castrum predictum nominatum est Salvatierra! Salvavit enim terram totam per illud castrum Dominus dupliciter, quoniam adventus regis Marroquitani in nullo alio nocuit terre in anno illo, cum multa dampna inferre potuisset; preterea captio Salve Terre fuit occasionem precipua belli gloriosi quod comissum est in anno sequenti in Navas de Tolosa, in quo per virtutem crucis Christi victus est rex Marroquitanus.” CLRC, ch. 19, 54–55. 57. “. . . ad ultimum castrum occupatum est in opprobrium fidei Christiane.” DRH, bk. 7, ch. 35, 257. 58. “Eo tempore Aldefonsus nobilis exercitum suum congregaverat circa confinia Talavere, et cum vellet dubie sorti belli se comitere, precipue ad instanciam filii sui primogeniti Fernandi, matuori usus consilio, mandavit in sequentem annum belli dubia prorogari; utilior est enim dilata opportunitas quam audacie preceps temeritas.” Ibid. 59. Smith, Innocent III and the Crown of Aragon, 98. 60. DRH, bk. 7, ch. 35, 257; CLRC, ch. 19, 55. 61. DRH, bk. 7, ch. 35, 257: “Aldefonsus vero rex nobilis, habuit cum archiepiscopo, episcopis, et magnatibus consilio diligenti, ore eius universis aclamantibus est prolatum melius esse in bello voluntatem celi sub discrimine experiri quam videre mala patrie et sanctorum.” 62. See Alvira Cabrer, Las Navas de Tolosa, 74–78. 63. CLRC, ch. 19, 55: “Exiit igitur edictum a rege glorioso per universum regnum ut, intermissa constructione murorum, cui omnes insistebant, arma bellica compararent et se ad bellum futurum preparant.” O’Callaghan, in his English translation of

166 Miguel Gómez the CLRC, calculated the date of the edict to Michaelmas, September 29, 1211. Joseph O’Callaghan, The Latin Chronicle of the Kings of Castile (Tempe: Arizona Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 2002), 40, n. 9. The defensive efforts may also indicate the levying of the exceptional castilleria tax, which involved monetary payments of labor service for the construction and upkeep of fortifications. See García Fitz, Las Navas de Tolosa, 243; Maria Estela González, “La anubda y la arrobda en Castilla,” Cuadernos de España 39/40 (1964): 13. 64. The alliance dated to 1196, when the two kings had fought together against Alfonso IX of León: CLRC, ch. 15, 49–50; DRH, bk. 7, ch. 30, 252. 65. AT, 171; CLRC, ch. 20, 55–56; DRH, bk. 7, ch. 36, 257–58; CM, ch. 88, 328. 66. “Emarcuit cor regis . . . Noblissima regina Alienor, audita more filii, mori cum eo voluit.” CLRC, ch. 20, 55. 67. Guiraldo de Calansó, “Belh Sénhur Dieus,” in Manuel Milá i Fontanals, De las trovadores en España (Barcelona: Libreria de Alvaro Verdaguer, 1889), 123–25. 68. CLRC, ch. 20, 56; AT, 171–72. 69. Lucas of Túy, Chronicon mundi, ed. Emma Falque, CCCM 74 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2003) (hereafter CM), ch. 87, 328. 70. Letter of Arnau Amalric to the Cistercian General Chapter, in Martin Bouquet and Leopold Delisle, eds., Recueil des historiens des Gaules et de la France, 25 vols. (Paris: Victor Balmé, 1869–1904) (hereafter RHGF), 19:250–55. On the career of Arnau Amalric, see Martín Alvira Cabrer, “El venerable Arnaldo Amalrico (h. 1196–1225): idea y realidad de un cicterciense entre dos cruzadas,” Hispania Sacra 48 (1996): 569–91. Also Raymonde Foreville, Le Pape Innocent III et La France (Stuttgart: Hiersmann, 1992), 230–48. 71. CM, 328, ch. 87. 72. On the Leonese volunteers, see Alvira Cabrer, Las Navas de Tolosa, 230; Gómez, “The Battle of Las Navas,” 203–4. 73. Alvira Cabrer, Las Navas de Tolosa, 84. 74. Geraldo was present at the king’s court, witnessing documents as late as September 14, but then absent until November 26, 1211. González, Alfonso VIII, 3:540-41, nos. 882–85. Innocent mentions that Geraldo served as Alfonso’s messenger in his letter to the king dated February 4, 1212. 75. For Innocent’s letter to the episcopate of France, see MDI, 497–98, no. 468. 76. The archbishop does not mention his association with the pope in his efforts to organize the crusade in his own De Rebus Hispanie, but Lucas of Túy (CM, ch. 88, 328) mentions that Rodrigo was operating “with the authority of the lord Pope Innocent.” In his own crusade encyclical written in the fall of 1211, the archbishop offered the crusade indulgence “ex auctoritate dei omnipotens et domini pape”: ACT I.6.G.I.13. Published in Lucy Pick, Conflict and Coexistence: Archbishop Rodrigo and the Muslims and Jews of Medieval Spain (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2004), 209–10. See also Gómez, “The Battle of Las Navas,” 79–82. 77. Alvira Cabrer, Las Navas de Tolosa, 98–99; González, Alfonso VIII, 3:557-58, no. 890. 78. “. . . sed nunc unum ex eis movere potuit.” CLRC, ch. 21, 57; DRH, bk. 8, ch. 1, 259; AT, 172, mentions Germany and Rome, as well as France, as part of the archbishop’s itinerary, but such a journey seems rather unlikely in the time allotted.

Alfonso VIII and the Battle of Las Navas de Tolosa 167 79. “. . . multa promictens ex parte regis ad bellum futurum.” CLRC, ch. 21, 57. Both the CLRC, ch. 21, 57, and the letter of Arnau Amalric, 251, state that many of the ultramontanos came from Gascony and Poitou, the regions visited by Master Amalric the physician. 80. “Non minus quam mortem expectamus . . .” González, Alfonso VIII, 3:558, no. 890. 81. MDI, 497–98, no. 468. 82. Innocent to the archbishops of Toledo and Santiago, April 5, 1212, MDI, 502, no. 471; Letter of Arnau Amalric, 250. 83. For a complete list of sources, and a detailed discussion of the issue, see Martín Alvira Cabrer, “El desafío de Miramamolín antes de la batalla de Las Navas de Tolosa: Fuentes, datación y posibles origines,” al-Qantara 18 (1997): 463–90. Miramamolin was a Latin (and Romance) conflation of the caliph’s title amīr al muˀminīn, i.e., commander of the faithful. 84. O’Callaghan, Reconquest and Crusade, 68. 85. AT, 172: “dió el Apostoligo à tal solutra por tod el mundo . . . porque el Rey de Marruecos dixo que lidiarie con quantos adoraban Cruz en todo el mundo.” 86. “Miramomelinus Rex Marrochensis, qui, sicut audivimus a plerisque, bellum indixerat omnibus illis qui Crucem adorant.” Letter of Arnau Amalric, 250. 87. “Inimicos crucis,” MDI, 502, no. 471. 88. MDI, 501, no. 470. 89. Smith, “Papacy,” 175. 90. “Aldefonsus nobilis citatis gentibus, congregatis armis, victualibus comportatis necnon et omnium cordibus ad bellum erectis, factus est concursus omnium apud Toletum, que sola potuit sui oppulencia omnium necessitatibus non deesse.” DRH, bk. 8, ch.1, 259. 91. CLRC, ch. 21, 57. 92. While exact figures are not given, it is possible to get a sense for the sums under consideration. We have, for example, an accounting for a portion of the papallyimposed tax of one-twentieth of ecclesiastical incomes in Castile and Leon for the Fifth Crusade in 1220, which amounted to more than 75,000 maravedís (The sums of the one-twentieth tax come from a letter from Honorius to his legate Pelagius, detailing the progress of tax collecting, in Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Epistolae saeculi XIII e regestis pontificum Romanorum, ed. Karl Rodenberg [Berlin, 1883], 88–91). If the clergy conceded half of their annual income in 1212, the amount may have been ten times higher. In comparison, O’Callaghan, Reconquest and Crusade in Medieval Spain, 155, estimated that Ferdinand III, the grandson of Alfonso VIII, might have had an annual income approaching 1 million maravedís. In 1212, Alfonso was operating in a smaller kingdom, pressed by an aggressive enemy, but we may guess that his combined income from usual and extraordinary resources was at least half that of his progeny. For more fiscal details of the kingdom of Castile during this period, see James Todesca’s contribution to this volume; idem, “What Touches All: Coinage and Monetary Policy in Leon-Castile to 1230,” (PhD diss., Fordham University, 1996). 93. “Licet expense essent [propter sui multitudinem] nobis et regno nostro fere importabiles et onorose . . . Deus ministravit nobis abunde.” González, Alfonso VIII, 3:566, no. 897.

168 Miguel Gómez 94. “Ubi tanta copia auri effundebatur cotidie quam vix et numeratores et ponderatores multitudinem denariorum qui neccessarii erant ad poterant numerate.” CLRC, ch. 21, 57. 95. Zozaya, Alarcos 1195, 318. García Fitz, Las Navas de Tolosa, 244. 96. Todesca, “What Touches All,” 257. 97. González, Alfonso VIII, 3:895, no. 894. 98. CLRC, ch. 21, 57. 99. CLRC, ch. 20, 56. Arnau also reports in his letter to the Cistercian General Chapter, that the ultramontanos arrived “ubi debebant, in octavi die Pentecostes.” He himself arrived in early June (nonas junii). Letter of Arnau Amalric, 251. 100. The numbers listed in the contemporary sources all offer very inflated figures, which range from forty thousand to more than one hundred thousand foreign crusaders. García Fitz, Las Navas de Tolosa, 259, estimated the size of the Christian forces at the battle to be about twelve thousand. Rosado and Payer, Las Navas, 115, also mention a study which estimated that there is only space enough for twelve thousand men on the Mesa del Rey, the sight of the Christian camp prior to the battle. Given that the ultramontanos constituted one-third of the army while on the march early in the campaign, it is safe to estimate their numbers at around six thousand total. Alvira Cabrer, “Guerra e ideología,” 182–83, discusses similar numbers. 101. “Cumque residentiam ultra quatuor hebdomadas fecisset exercitus iam Toleti, et iam fatigatus ex mora desiderio arripiendi iam iter contra Sarracenas nationes aestuaret.” Letter of Arnau Amalric, 251. 102. Arnau dates the departure to the 20th . Rodrigo says “XII kalendas Iulii,” which would be the 19th. 103. DRH, bk 8, ch. 5, 264. 104. Letter of Arnau Amalric, 251; DRH, bk. 8, ch. 5, 264. 105. Letter of Arnau Amalric, 251. 106. “Venientes ad turrim quamdam, que Malagon nuncupatur, satis munitam, ultramontani antequam nos pervenerunt per unum diem, et illam cum Dei auxilio impugnantes in continenti ceperunt.” González, Alfonso VIII, 3:567-68, no. 897. 107. “Concidentes in frustra quotquot ibi reperti sunt.” CLRC, ch. 22, 58. The grammatical construction “in frustra” is unclear, and Joseph O’Callaghan and Georges Cirot, in their editions of the CLRC, suggest that it should perhaps be read “concidentes in frusta,” meaning “cut to pieces.” Georges Cirot originally published the Chronica Latina in a series of articles in the Bulletin Hispanique: Georges Cirot, “Une Chronique Latine Inédite des Rois de Castille (1236),” Bulletin Hispanique 14 (1912): 30–46, 109–18, 244–74, 353–74; 15 (1913): 18–37, 170–87, 268–83, 411–27. Joseph O’Callaghan published an English translation of the chronicle: Joseph O’Callaghan, The Latin Chronicle of the Kings of Castile (Tempe: Arizona Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 2002). 108. “Licet autem nos eis in omnibus necesariis largissime provideremus, ipsi tamen attendentes laborem terre, quae deserta erat et aliquantulum calida, voluerunt acepto proposito retroire et ad proria remeare. Tandem, ad magnam instantiam nostrum et regis Aragonum, processerunt usque ad Calatravam.” González, Alfonso VIII, 3:568, no. 897. 109. The CLRC and Rodrigo both give the name of the alcaide of Calatrava as Ibn Qâdis (“Avencalem” and “Avenchaliz” respectively). CLRC, ch. 22, 58; DRH, bk. 8, ch. 6,

Alfonso VIII and the Battle of Las Navas de Tolosa 169 265. According to Ibn Abi Zarʿ, 243–44, al-Nās.ir had Ibn Qâdis executed immediately as an example to frighten his other Andalusian vassals. 110. Letter of Arnau Amalric, 251. 111. González, Alfonso VIII, 3:265, no. 897; DRH, bk. 8, ch. 6, 265. 112. “Nocte bellum dirimente venerunt primi de consilio Sarracenorum ad regem parvum occulte rogantes, ut vita eis concessa in camisiis ea nocte nescientibus Francis sineret eos abire. Et ipsi tradebant ei castrum cum omni sua supellectile et victualibus et armis et thesauris, quod rex concessit; et in castro suos collocavit. Hoc cum die sequenti percepissent Franci, archiepiscopus Burdegalensis et episcopus Nannetensis indignati repatriaverunt.” Alberic de Trois-Fontaines consistently uses the nickname “rex parvus” for Alfonso VIII. Alberic explains that the name was given to him when he inherited the throne from his father, Sancho III, at the young age of three. The name apparently stuck with him. Alberic de Trois-Fontaines, Chronica, MGHSS 23:895. See also Gómez, “Rex Parvus or Rex Nobilis?: Charlemagne and the Politics of History (and Crusading) in Thirteenth Century Iberia,” in The Charlemagne Legend in Medieval Latin Texts, ed. William Purkis and Matthew Gabriele (Bristol: Boydell & Brewer, 2016). 113. al-Marrākusī, 266–67. 114. Letter of Arnau Amalric, 251–52. 115. “Et statuentes inter se quod nullus remaneret, nec futurum expectaret bellum, ad propria reversi sunt.” CM, ch. 89, 329. 116. The clearest and most contemporary expression of this principle can be seen in Canon 3 of the Fourth Lateran Council, which makes it clear that the rights of principle rulers of territories in which crusades (specifically against heretics) were operating were to be respected. See Henry Joseph Schroeder, Disciplinary Decrees of the General Councils (St. Louis: B. Herder, 1937), 243. This was especially an issue in Spain, where as late as the mid-twelfth century, Norman adventurers were establishing semi-independent lordships for themselves: see Larry McCranck, “Norman Crusaders in the Catalan Reconquest: Robert Burdet and the Principality of Tarragona, 1129–1155,” Journal of Medieval History 7 (1981): 67–82. As late as 1154, King Louis VII of France was considering an uninvited campaign to Spain, but was discouraged by the pope: O’Callaghan, Reconquest and Crusade, 50. 117. Letter of Blanche of Castile, RHGF, 19:255. 118. González, Alfonso VIII, 3:568, no. 897. 119. CLRC, ch. 22, 58. 120. Ibn ʿIdhārī, 272; CLRC, ch. 22, 59; DRH, bk. 8, ch. 7, 267–68; Letter of Arnau Amalric, 252; González, Alfonso VIII, 3:569, no. 897. 121. CLRC, ch. 22, 59; DRH, bk. 8, ch.7, 268; CM, ch. 90, 330; González, Alfonso VIII, 3:569, no. 897. 122. “Etsi hoc consilium discretione fulgeat, periculum secum portat; populus enim et alii inexperti cum nos retrocedere viderint, non bellum querere, set bellum fugere iudicabit, et fiet discessio in exercitu nec poterunt retineri; set ex quo ex vicino hostes prospicimus, ad eos neccesse est ut eamus. Sicut autem fuerit voluntas in celo, sic fiat.” DRH, bk. 8, ch. 7, 268. 123. García Romeo served as alférez from 1202 until his untimely death in early 1213. See Alvira Cabrer, Muret 1213, 127.

170 Miguel Gómez 124. CLRC, ch. 23, 59–60; DRH, bk. 8, ch. 7, 268; González, Alfonso VIII, 3:569, no. 897; CM, ch. 90, 330. 125. Alvira Cabrer, Las Navas de Tolosa, 161–72. 126. “Deus omnipotens, qui negocium speciali gracia dirigebat.” DRH, 268, Bk. 8, c. 7. 127. CLRC, ch. 23, 60; DRH, bk. 8, ch. 8, 269. 128. Ibid. 129. DRH, bk. 8, ch. 8, 269. 130. “In modum torneamenti,” González, Alfonso VIII, 3:570, no. 897. 131. “Nos autem, volentes considerare multitudinem gentis sue et dispositionem et statum et qualiter in omnibus se haberent, habito prudentum virorum consilio et in his exercitatorum, expectavimus usque ad sequentem diem Lune.” González, Alfonso VIII, 3:570, no. 897 132. DRH, bk. 8, ch. 8, 270. The will of Arnaldus of Alascuno, an Aragonese nobleman, is dated “dominica II, mensis julii, sub Era 1250,” i.e., Sunday July 15, 1212. AHN, sección ordines militares, San Juan, Castellanía de Amposta, carp. 584, no. 83. 133. Alfonso VIII’s letter reported the Almohad strength at 185,000 cavalry alone. González, Alfonso VIII, 3:571, no. 897. The CLRC, ch. 25, 62, simply said they were countless. Rodrigo reported eighty thousand knights, and countless footmen, DRH, bk. 8, ch. 9, 272. 134. CLRC, ch. 24, 61. 135. DRH, bk. 8, ch. 9, 270–72; CLRC, ch. 24, 61–62. 136. Blanche’s Letter, 258, describes Sancho VII of Navarre entering into the fray. Peter II died thirteen months later when he impetuously charged into action against Simon de Montfort at the battle of Muret. 137. For excellent photographs and a detailed description of the terrain, see Callejas Sánchez, Batalla de Las Navas de Tolosa. 138. CLRC, ch. 25, 62; DRH, bk. 8, ch. 10, 273. 139. “Estote memor gracie Dei, que omnes defectus relevavit. Estote etiam memor vestrorum militum, quorum auxilio ad tantam gloriam pervenistis.” DRH, bk. 8, ch. 10, 273. 140. DRH, ch. 12, 276; González, Alfonso VIII, 3:571, no. 897. 141. DRH, bk.8, ch. 12, 276; CLRC, ch. 25, 62–63; González, Alfonso VIII, 3:572, no. 897; Letter of Arnau Amalric, 253. 142. González, Alfonso VIII, 3:572, no. 897. 143. “Fluxus ventrium,” CLRC, ch. 25, 63. 144. DRH, bk. 8, ch. 12, 276. 145. CLRC, ch. 25, 64. 146. DRH, bk. 8, ch. 25, 276. 147. CLRC, ch. 26, 64. 148. “Nos vero cum nobili rege Aldefonso ad urbem pervenimus Toletanam, ibique cum pontificibus et clero et universo populo in ecclesia beate Marie Virginis processionaliter est receptus, multis Deum laudantibus et in musicis instrumentis aclamantibus quod eis regem suum reddiderat sanum et incolumem et corona victorie coronatum.” DRH, bk. 8, ch. 12, 276. 149. Ibn ʿIdhārī, 271–73.

Alfonso VIII and the Battle of Las Navas de Tolosa 171 150. AT, 178. 151. Huici Miranda, Historia Politica, 2:433. 152. DRH, bk. 8, ch. 10, 273. See note 139 above. 153. CLRC, ch. 26, 64; DRH, bk. 8, ch. 13, 277. 154. “Rex autem gloriosus, cum honore et gloria cupiens vitam finere in guerra Maurorum, non revocavit ad animum quod rex Legionis fecerat, sed voluit amicabiliter componere cum eo ut sibi invicem prestarent auxilium contra Mauros.” CLRC, ch. 25, 64. 155. DRH, bk. 8, ch. 13, 277–78. 156. AT, 178–84; Ibn ʿIdhārī, 276–77.

Chapter eight Alfonso VIII and the Papacy Damian Smith

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omewhat more than four hundred years ago now, in response to a request from Philip II, the Spanish embassy in Rome picked out two letters to send to Spain and the king from the quite extensive papalCastilian correspondence concerning the battle of Las Navas de Tolosa. The letters were to be used in what was to be a long, drawn-out and ultimately fruitless cause for the canonization of Alfonso VIII of Castile. One of the letters was the Supplicatio generalis, which was Pope Innocent III’s call for a general procession of the clergy and people of Rome, as well as processions elsewhere, prior to the great battle, which the pope was expecting to take place in midMay 1212 around the time of Pentecost. The second was the famous letter of Alfonso VIII himself (or written on his behalf by Archbishop Rodrigo, or the chancellor Diego, or somebody else) to Innocent III after the Christian victory, in which the battle of Las Navas was described. The Supplicatio generalis would have left no doubt concerning the importance of Alfonso VIII to the papacy, Rome, and Christian history. The procession had been called for the peace of the universal church and the Christian people, especially so that God might be favorable in the war that was supposed to be taking place between the Christians and Saracens in Spain, lest the Lord should give his people up to mockery and allow other nations to rule over them. It is not known if the Roman procession took place in the manner the pope prescribed, but women were under instructions to set out from Santa Maria Maggiore, laymen from Santa Anastasia and the clergy from Santi Apostoli, processing behind various crosses to the Lateran campus. The pope and the cardinals meanwhile were to take a relic of the true Cross from the Sancta Sanctorum and process to the palace of the cardinal bishop of Albano from where Innocent was to preach a sermon to all the people. Various Masses were then to be celebrated before all were to return home, to fast, and give alms to the poor so that through prayer, fasting, and almsgiving the compassion of the Creator would be returned to the Christian people. The intention was that the Roman procession would be repeated elsewhere in order to draw the Roman and wider Christian community into a union with the crusaders who were about to fight in the peninsula and to unify Christian people through the Eucharist and the Cross, so that in combination with the saints they could persuade God to grant them victory. The letter describing the victory of Las Navas appears equally well chosen because it surely demonstrated the devotion of the king of Castile to the apos172

Alfonso VIII and the Papacy 173 tolic see. It was addressed “to the most Holy Father and Lord Innocent, high pontiff by the grace of God, Alfonso, king of Castile and Toledo, by the same grace, kissing your hands and your feet, greetings.” It began by emphasizing the immense part which the pope had played in the Las Navas victory through granting a full remission of sins to those coming from beyond the Pyrenees to join the campaign. The letter described the actions of the army of the Lord, the personal resolve of the king to die for the faith of Christ, and the acknowledgment that the battle of the Lord was triumphantly won by God alone and through God alone. It offered apologies to the pope that the extent of success was such that so few in such a vast army went to Christ as martyrs, and explained that this report had been written “for you, most Holy Father, offering the thanks we can for the immeasurable aid of all Christendom and humbly begging you, whom the Lord has chosen for the rank of the high priesthood, that you might offer Him the fruit of your lips with the sacrifice of praise for the salvation of the people.” One suspects that a third letter from the Las Navas set (which was perhaps already readily available to Philip II) would not have done Alfonso’s canonization cause too much harm either. That was Innocent’s letter of October 26, 1212 to Alfonso, replete with Old Testament references to the humbling of the arrogant and the smiting of enemies, in which the pope was surely as close to happy as he ever came. In fact Innocent says so. When he had fully understood the import of Alfonso’s victory letter, “gavisi sumus gaudio magno valde,” —“we were overjoyed with an exceeding great joy”—just like the Magi then upon sight of the Star of Bethlehem (Matthew 2:10). Innocent recounted how he had called the clergy and the people of the city of Rome together and had the king’s letter read to the assembled throng and then explained in the vernacular. This news, it should be remembered, had a very major impact in Rome. It was an essential part of the background to the calling of the Fourth Lateran Council and the Fifth Crusade. In Quia Maior, the call to the Fifth Crusade, Innocent almost certainly referred to it when he spoke of the sign which the Lord had given that good was to come, that the end of this beast (referring to the prophet Muhammad) was approaching. If Alfonso’s canonization cause had been solely dependent on the two Las Navas letters Philip II received, rather than a complex range of circumstances, then perhaps things would have gone better for him. If, however, it had been dependent upon all the papal correspondence of Alfonso’s long reign, the cause might never have got underway. For Alfonso reigned for fifty-six years, during the reign of eight popes, and the relationship between the Castilian monarchy and the papacy was complex and sometimes disharmonious. In analyzing this relationship there is a slight methodological difficulty. There was no dossier for papal-Castilian relations, as at times there was for the Empire or the problem of Count Raymond VI of Toulouse and the Albigensians. Only the registers for the last pope of Alfonso’s reign—Innocent III—survive and

174 Damian Smith even some of Innocent’s registers are missing for vital periods where Castile is concerned—most obviously from March 1200 until March 1202. The registers of Innocent’s predecessors are lost, though they were available and used in the early thirteenth century. For those popes, generally the historian is reliant on letters which are preserved in local archives, especially, in this instance, at Toledo, or when their decisions entered into a decretal collection. Anyway, more is known in detail about papal-Castilian relations at the end of Alfonso VIII’s reign than in the earlier part and to add to the distortion the main source is papocentric. More tends to be known of what the pope was thinking of the king than the king of the pope, though the narratio of a papal letter may sometimes express something of the king’s thoughts. There are, of course, other sources as well, away from the letters, of which use can be made. At the beginning of Alfonso VIII’s reign one might perceive good relations born at least in part of necessity. When he made his will in 1204, Alfonso VIII still had etched on his memory the threats that he had faced, when he was a boy, from the Almohads and the kings of León and Navarre, and how they had sought to disinherit him. The position of the pope at that time, Alexander III (1159–1181), had been no less precarious, because of the schism and the desire of Frederick Barbarossa and Cardinal Octavian (Victor IV) to disinherit him. For Alexander support from the kings and churches of Spain was important. It was also not easy to come by diplomatically. The rulers of Portugal and Navarre were not recognized by the papacy as kings until 1179 and 1196 respectively. Unusually, the count of Barcelona, Ramón Berenguer IV, held back his support in order to gain recognition for his dynasty from the emperor in Provence (the rulers of Aragon-Catalonia traditionally had a closer tie with Rome than did those of Castile). Alfonso VIII himself, of course, was just a boy and it was in these circumstances that Ferdinand II of León and Archbishop Juan of Toledo, after learning of Henry II of England and Louis VII of France’s decision at Beauvais to approve Alexander, backed Alexander as the true pope, a decision later emphasized by the large Spanish presence at the council of Tours in 1163. In these years of Alfonso’s minority and early majority, it seems that the relationship between Castile, at least the bishops of Castile, and the papacy was unusually close (which is not to say that it was very close). This is perhaps reflected by the famous synod of Segovia in 1166. The modern editor of the canons of the synod, Peter Linehan, has emphasized the moments where the decisions of the synod would have raised the eyebrows of the canon lawyers. This was particularly the case in canon 16, which declared that nobody from the kingdom of Castile should presume to go into the service of the Saracens “unless they had the king’s permission.” It was also the case in canon 2, which granted to whosoever came into Alfonso VIII’s service against his enemies (which included other Christians) the same indulgences as those who visited Jerusalem. It should be said, however, that if we take the canons of the synod of Segovia as a whole then really they in very large measure follow earlier papal rulings. The synod is pro-

Alfonso VIII and the Papacy 175 Alfonso without being anti-papal. Indeed a papal subdeacon, P., was present at the synod and the council was celebrated “ad honorem Dei et exaltationem domini pape et ad pacem regni domini nostri Aldefonsi.” At this stage “the exaltation of the lord pope” even extended as far as the coinage. The gold maravedí minted in Toledo from 1172 came as a response to the demise of Ibn Mardanīsh, the advance of the Almohads, and the subsequent break in the circulation of Muslim gold to the north. The Alfonsine gold maravedí was modeled on the earlier Almoravid dinar, the names of the Muslim ruler and the Imam on the model being substituted for the Castilian ruler and the pope on the new coin, and a Koranic verse being replaced by a biblical one (all this still in Arabic). On one side the coin made reference to “the Emir of the Catholics, Alfonso son of Sancho (May God aid him and protect him)” and gave the date when the coin was minted at Toledo. On the other side there was a cross and the words “the Imam of the Christian Church the pope of Rome the Great,” changing after 1184 to “the Imam of the Christian Church the Pope” and below this ALF and in the margin “In the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, One God, He who believes and may be baptized will be saved” (Mark 16:16). This was a coin which was to be circulated in alAndalus and with Christian propaganda designed for Muslims. Even though few of the Muslims may have held a gold maravedí, and few of those who held it may have looked at it, the fact is that from the early 1170s the Castilians really can be said to have depicted the king and the pope as two sides of the same coin. It is perhaps worth noting here also that from this period in Castile the privilegio rodado places a cross inside the rota, seemingly following the Roman practice. The wheels generally appeared to have been turning smoothly. This seems to be the case with the second legation of Cardinal Hyacinth Bobone (the later Celestine III) between 1172 and 1174. On his first visit, almost two decades previously, he had sometimes had quite a difficult time, especially at the council of Valladolid when he received a dressing down from the Emperor Alfonso VII because he was held responsible for the failure of the archbishop of Braga to show up (a failure which indicated Braga’s defiance of Toledo and Portugal’s of León-Castile). The second time around things went better. Hyacinth carried the letter Quam reprehensible sit concerning the primacy which reminded the other archbishops that those who showed contempt for Toledo showed contempt for the Apostolic See. He oversaw a meeting of Alfonso VIII, Ferdinand II, and Alfonso II of Aragon. He granted the request of these first two and Afonso Henriques of Portugal for the canonization of San Rosendo of Dumio (about a quarter of a century later as pope, he would again approve it, no longer sure it had been valid the first time around). It would seem the legate played a significant role in the campaign to relieve Huete, since the Anales Toledanos concentrate on his efforts to offer pardon of sins to those rallying to Alfonso’s cause. Hyacinth attended the marriage of Alfonso’s aunt, Sancha,

176 Damian Smith to Alfonso II of Aragon, which was a very important moment in AragoneseCastilian relations. He did a lot else besides but these matters relate very immediately to Alfonso VIII and indicate the development of a strong bond between the two. At this point there should be mention of the generally strong papal involvement in the development of the Spanish military orders, who were so welcomed by Alfonso VIII and other Christian rulers. Alexander III played a key role in approving the way of life and refining the rule of the early Calatravans in 1164. Cardinal Hyacinth had certainly been present in 1172 when the knights of Ávila were affiliated to Santiago. In 1175 Alexander III took the Santiagans under Roman protection and confirmed their rule with the bull Benedictus Deus, which was drafted by Albert de Morra, the later Gregory VIII (more famous perhaps for Audita tremendi), whose sweet and sonorous rhythmic prose, reflected the joy of the Apostolic See that nobles “in partibus Hispaniarum” had broken off the chains of sin. King and pope could here unite because they shared common cause against those who hated the cross of Christ. This is certainly the reason for which Alexander III hoped all Christian Spaniards would fight, as he expressed in the important Merore pariter of 1175. The Massamuti (Ibn Tumart had been from the Masmuda tribal confederation) were taking control of Christian places of worship, the pope lamented, and without the Christian religion in these places nobody could be saved and the grace of God could not be merited. How beautiful it was, Alexander declared, for Christians to face labors, dangers, and death for the name of Christ, and to cleanse themselves from the contagion of their sins so that they could be worthy to ask for God’s compassion and help against the enemies of the cross of Christ. Was Alfonso inspired by the language of this bull to the capture of Cuenca? O’Callaghan thinks possibly so and Ayala Martínez makes a persuasive case in this volume. Be that as it may, when Lucius III approved the see of Cuenca in 1182, he praised Alfonso VIII in glowing terms: through Alfonso’s triumphal and magnificent actions the borders of Christendom had been expanded. It was, however, in the course of the 1180s that attitudes changed. Partly (and firstly) on Alfonso’s side as he developed his own conception of his kingship. Indeed, already during the siege of Cuenca he had annulled and revoked the decrees by which Cardinal Hyacinth had reformed the fueros, rights, and customs of the clerics of Valladolid without consulting the king. It seems, moreover, that Alfonso was more consciously setting himself up as the defender of Christianitas and the Christian religion in these years. Mainly, however, the change is on the papal side and because of the defeat at Hattin on July 4, 1187. The historian who desperately wishes to get away from history as battles has great difficulty in these years because many of the battles were vitally important. Papal authority, moreover, rested at least in part on the success of the crusading movement. The failure in the East in difficult circumstances made the papacy more conscious of the failure in Spain in far easier circumstances and led to stinging rebukes

Alfonso VIII and the Papacy 177 over the failure of the Christians to unite. Clement III, in 1188, anguished by the loss of Jerusalem, lamented the discord between the Christian rulers of Spain, considering that the inactivity of the prelates was as much to blame as the activity of kings. Celestine III went further in 1192, blaming everybody collectively: while all Christendom was bending over backwards to avenge the injury inflicted on Jerusalem by the Saracens Soli Hispani (Spaniards alone) conspired with them in order to make war on other Christians. The disaster of Alarcos only confirmed this view. As Carlos de Ayala Martínez has pointed out, the lack of coordination between Alfonso VIII himself and the pope (alongside his industrious legate Cardinal Gregory of Sant’Angelo) was evident. Celestine’s letter, praising Alfonso’s intentions to invade the lands of the Muslims, while threatening those Christians who might take action against Castile, was only written on July 10, 1195, nine days before the battle actually took place. Alfonso was not prepared to wait for Celestine any more than he was prepared to wait for anybody else. Surely the papal response to defeat would have been angrier against Alfonso VIII had the pope not been Celestine (the one pope whom Alfonso knew personally) and had not the subsequent actions of the kings of León and Navarre in allying with the Almohads rendered Alfonso’s own impetuosity less culpable. Celestine was forgiving and he viewed Alfonso IX of León as the major part of the problem (attempting to launch a crusade against him) but Innocent III had no such personal bond with Alfonso VIII and was to be less sympathetic. The report sent from Aragon in 1205 which told the pope that the Calatravans were afraid to make war on the Saracens because of Alfonso VIII’s truces with them, would certainly not have helped; nor would the complaints from the Hospitallers in the following year that in seizing two of their castles and three of their towns Alfonso VIII was aiding the enemies of Christ. It should be remembered that in 1210, Innocent wrote to Archbishop Rodrigo of Toledo asking him to urge the king of Castile to emulate Peter II of Aragon who fought against the perfidy of the Saracens, or, if he could not manage that much, then at least not to impede those of his subjects who wished to help the Aragonese king. It was a deliberately goading letter (and, as it turned out, a rather unnecessary one) but how far had Alfonso’s star faded from the sky on the eve of Las Navas that the pope should ask that he might be a part of the supporting cast for his much younger cousin! The infamous marriage case had certainly helped Alfonso VIII’s star to fall. For the rulers, and indeed for most of the prelates in Castile and León, many of whom by that time had the opportunity to know better, the marriage of Alfonso IX and Berenguela was a reasonable strategy to preserve peace in the peninsula and pursue the war against the Muslims. It was rumored that Celestine III was willing to connive at it. This is mainly based upon Roger of Howden and it should be said that later Howden is much less reliable than early Howden. That Celestine might have been willing to let the matter go pro bono pacis is not

178 Damian Smith impossible but a letter of Innocent III confirms that Celestine never knew about the marriage. For Innocent, the marriage was everything he stood against. It was the guarantee of failure against the pagans since a society in a state of sin could not be properly organized for war. While Innocent’s De Miseria Humanae conditionis became his most popular work, beloved of so many authors, from Chaucer to James Joyce, the other treatises which he wrote when he was a cardinal, on the mysteries of the mass and on the four types of Christian marriage, may well have been more influential in his election as pope. It was Innocent’s deep consciousness of the range of matrimonial relationships that made him absolutely determined that the marriage of a man and a woman should mirror and complement the strength of the other bridal relationships (between Christ and the Church, God and the just soul, the Word and human nature). In the Alfonso IX-Berenguela case there was an even more immediate concern because in Rome, as Innocent explained in May 1199, they were waiting for the disasters which had occurred in the East, through the union of one woman (Isabel of Jerusalem) with two men (Conrad of Montferrat and Henry of Champagne) to be repeated in the west through the incestuous marriage of one man (Alfonso IX) with two women (his first wife, Teresa of Portugal, and then Berenguela). From the papal viewpoint because God had waited longer to punish the sin of Alfonso IX, the punishment would be so much the worse. Given that Conrad of Montferrat had been assassinated in the street and Henry of Champagne had fallen from a first-floor window but perhaps only died when his servant, the dwarf Scarlet, while heroically trying to save Henry, fell down on top of him, this did not bode well for the Leonese ruler. Not that it would normally have mattered too much to Alfonso VIII whatever might fall on Alfonso IX’s head, especially because he had distanced himself from the whole affair during the legation of Innocent’s trusted envoy Rainier of Ponza and indicated that he would be willing to take Berenguela back. At that time, in 1199, Innocent was less than convinced of Alfonso VIII’s (and, of course, Queen Leonor’s) good intentions, especially as the archbishop of Toledo and the bishop of Palencia had been among those in Rome arguing for a dispensation and then for a relaxation of the interdict which had been imposed. At that moment only the devotion Innocent had towards the king of Castile stopped him from losing patience altogether. Four years later, the pope had heard, probably from the bishop-elect of Burgos and the archbishop of Compostela, among others, that Alfonso VIII had been duplicitous and that Alfonso IX had been entrapped by his own simplicity. Moreover, it was argued, the whole marriage had been designed by Alfonso VIII to position his own men in the fortresses of Berenguela’s dowry, and the Castilian ruler had also had the whole Leonese kingdom swear allegiance to the illegitimate children. By that stage, Innocent promised to proceed against the Castilian ruler and his kingdom in the manner which seemed fitting. The threat of excommunication and interdict proved enough, at least enough to proceed to the battle for the castles,

Alfonso VIII and the Papacy 179 but the whole case demonstrated not only the ultimate acceptance of the pope’s authority to judge the marriage question, but also the limit to his authority given that all told that judgment was accepted six years and five children on. The pope’s authority and the king’s goodwill were also in question in the matter of the freedom of the Church. Of course, Alfonso VIII very rarely intervened in episcopal elections to any great extent, usually sending letters with the bishop-elect traveling to Rome to confirm his approval of the appointment. It would generally have been very surprising in Castile if a cathedral chapter would have chosen a candidate who was not pleasing to the king. Who the candidate was could be left slightly to chance. Rodrigo Ximénez de Rada’s own advance from Osma to Toledo may have been in part because a potential rival in the bishop of Sigüenza had blotted his copy book when ill-temperedly felling a young man with his pastoral staff. It was generally, however, for the king to protect the Church and when he restored the monarchy in the lands where it had formerly been before the Muslim occupation, he also restored the Church in areas where once upon a time there had been Christian churches. Therefore, the clergy would have been foolish to elect somebody who did not back the king. However, the fact that the bishops were moving ever closer to the king, did not mean they were moving away from the pope. They were closer to the papacy than ever before, attending councils, acting as judges-delegate, taking their own cases to Rome, and following the pope’s instructions in attempting to secure peace. Yet on the occasions where pope and king did not coincide, as in the marriage case, the vast majority of the bishops were for the king. The Libertas Ecclesiae of course was not simply a matter of free episcopal elections. There is good reason to believe that while Alfonso insisted from 1180/1 upon the inviolability of ecclesiastical goods during an episcopal vacancy, that he was less keen to give the same assurances once the see had been filled. This was certainly the first of the accusations which his relative Bishop Fernando González of Burgos brought before Innocent III in May 1205. Moreover, Alfonso, so the bishop claimed, allowed Jewish owners to set their own price on the compensation they should receive from the Church when their slaves were converted to Christianity, forcing churches into debt in order to cover the costs. Poor Bishop Fernando had thus paid an indemnity of 200 aureos for a Saracen maid worth about 10 sueldos. Beyond this the king did not permit Jews and Saracens to pay the tithes owed to the Church, allowing them to buy up more property, which meant that the Synagogue increased as the Church decreased. Alfonso, moreover, according to Bishop Fernando, had annexed the churches and rents of his see. Lest Alfonso might appear to press down upon ecclesiastical liberty while exalting the synagogue and the mosque, Innocent advised him to correct himself and soon. The sudden demise of Bishop Fernando on July 29, 1205, less than three months after Innocent’s letter was sent, took the pressure off the king. If, as has been suggested on occasion, the bishop was poisoned, and Alfonso VIII somehow had something to do with his opportune

180 Damian Smith death, the evidence is very slight indeed. It would have been uncharacteristic of a ruler who had encouraged the cult of Becket in his realms. All this is to say, however, that in the years leading up to Las Navas, there was in reality increasing tension between the king of Castile and the pope, from whose viewpoint the king was failing in the crusade, conniving at incestuous marriage, and opposing the Libertas Ecclesiae. Therefore, it is not surprising that when the king decided to put on his armor one final time for a battle which he viewed in apocalyptic terms, the pope was not as wholly enthusiastic as one might expect him to be, refusing Alfonso a papal legate and advising him to make truces with the Muslims if he could and wait for a more opportune time to fight. If we view the documents mentioned at the beginning of this chapter in this light—in a way those seeking Alfonso’s canonization in the sixteenth century could not have read them—then they read somewhat differently. The Supplicatio generalis of the pope—the insistence that through prayer, fasting, and almsgiving the passion of the creator will be returned to the Christian people—may well have in part been a response to the fact that, from the pope’s point of view, the king of Castile, with all his baggage, was very unlikely to win without that massive spiritual support. Equally, Alfonso’s Las Navas victory letter (which at least in its first part surely contains Alfonso’s voice), tells of the vast numbers who had come from beyond the Pyrenees, with all their baggage, and how they had come in response to the pope’s remission of sins, and how Alfonso had to pay for them all again and again, and how difficult they had been and how practically all of them, except the ones with a Spanish connection anyway, had gone home at the vital moment, because inter alia it was somewhat hot. Alfonso thus thanked Innocent for all the aid from Christendom, all the aid that Christendom did not give! Soli Hispani, Celestine III had chided. Yet, from Alfonso VIII’s viewpoint, Soli Hispani was very much what it had turned out to be. Notes 1. González, Alfonso VIII, 1:16–17; Amaia Arizaleta and Stéphanie Jean-Marie, “En el umbral de santidad: Alfonso VIII de Castilla,” in Pratiques hagiographiques dans l’Espagne du Moyen Âge et du Siècle d’Or, ed. Arizaleta and Françoise Cazal, 2 vols. (Toulouse: Méridiennes, 2005–7), 2:573–83. 2. MDI, 503–4, no. 473. 3. See Christoph Maier, “Mass, the Eucharist and the Cross: Innocent III and the Relocation of the Crusade,” in Pope Innocent III and His World, ed. John C. Moore (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1999), 351–60; Damian J. Smith, “The Papacy, the Spanish Kingdoms and Las Navas,” Anuario de Historia de la Iglesia 20 (2011): 157–78. 4. MDI, 510–15, no. 483; PL, 216:699–703. A new critical edition of the text is provided by Maurilio Pérez González, “Sobre la edición de textos latinos medievales: La carta de Alfonso VIII a Inocencio III en 1212,” Veleia 17 (2000): 254–57. “Sanctissimo Patri ac domino Innocentio Dei gratia summo pontifici Aldephonsus eadem rex Castellae et Toleti, cum osculo manuum atque pedum, salutem.”

Alfonso VIII and the Papacy 181 5. “Haec igitur, sanctissime Pater, vobis scribenda decrevimus, pro auxilio toti Christianitati impenso gratias quas possumus exhibentes, et humiliter supplicantes ut vos, quem Dominus ad summi sacerdotii gradum elegit, ei cum sacrificio laudis pro salute populi immoletis vitulos labiorum.” Ibid. 6. MDI, 519–21, no. 488. 7. “Confidimus tamen in Domino, qui iam fecit nobiscum signum in bonum, quod finis huius bestiae appropinquat, cuius numerus secundum Apocalypsum Joannis intra sexcenta sexaginta clauditur, ex quibus iam pene sexcenti sunt completi.” PL, 216:818. 8. Walther Holtzmann, ed., Regestum domni Innocentii tertii pape super negotio Romani imperii. Das Register Papst Innocenz’ III über den deutschen Thronstreit, 2 vols. (Bonn: Universitäts Verlag, 1947–1948); Andrea Sommerlechner, “Processus negotii Raimundi comitis Tolosani—Bemerkungen zu Einschüben im 12. Jahrgang der Kanzleiregister Papst Innocenz’ III,” Mitteilungen des Instituts für Österreichische Geschichtsforschung 120 (2012): 139–45. 9. Uta-Renate Blumenthal, “Papal Registers in the Twelfth Century,” in Proceedings of the Seventh International Congress of Medieval Canon Law. Cambridge 23–27 July, 1984, ed. Peter Linehan (Vatican City: Biblioteca apostolica vaticana, 1988), 137–51. 10. Fidel Fita, “Testamento del Rey Alfonso VIII (8 diciembre 1204),” BRAH 8 (1886): 236. 11. Damian J. Smith, “Alexander III and Spain,” in Pope Alexander III: the Art of Survival, ed. Peter Clarke and Anne Duggan (Farnham: Ashgate, 2012), 203–42. 12. PL, 200:1237–38 (Portugal); (Navarre) Fidel Fita, “Bulas inéditas,” BRAH 27 (1895): 229–30, no. 3; PU Spanien, 2:592–93, no. 230. 13. Francisco Miquel Rosell, ed., Liber Feudorum Maior, 2 vols. (Barcelona, 1945– 1947), 2:366–71, no. 901–2; Johannes Fried, Der päpstliche Schutz für Laienfürsten: Die politische Geschichte des päpstlichen Schutzprivilegs für Laien (11.–13.Jh.) (Heidelberg: Winter, 1980). 14. PL, 200:1370 (Ferdinand); (Toledo) PU Spanien, 2:411, no. 91; Fidel Fita, “Santuario de Atocha (Madrid). Bulas inéditas del siglo XII,” BRAH 7 (1885): 218–20; ACT, X. 7.2.6; J. Rivera Recio, La iglesia de Toledo en el siglo XII (1086–1208), 2 vols. (Rome, 1966–1976), 1:348; (Tours) Timothy Reuter, “A list of bishops attending the Council of Tours (1163),” Annuarium Historiae Conciliorum 8 (1976): 124. 15. Peter Linehan, “The Synod of Segovia (1166),” Bulletin of Medieval Canon Law (hereafter BMCL) 10 (1980): 31–44. 16. Ibid., 42–44. 17. Ibid., 42. 18. José María de Francisco Olmos, “El maravedí de oro de Alfonso VIII: un mensaje cristiano escrito en árabe,” Revista General de Información y Documentación 8 (1998): 283–301. 19. Francisco Olmos, “El maravedí de oro,” 285–92; MEC, 288. See also the chapters by Todesca and Ayala Martínez in the current volume, who look at the matter from different perspectives. 20. Carlos Estepa Diez, “El Reino de Castilla de Alfonso VIII (1158–1214),” in Poder Real y Sociedad: estudios sobre el reinado de Alfonso VIII, 1158–1214, ed. Carlos Estepa, Ignacio Álvarez Borge, and José María Santamarta Luengos (León: Universidad de León, 2011), 35. 21. Carl Erdmann, O Papado e Portugal no primeiro século da história Portuguesa

182 Damian Smith (Coimbra: Universidade de Coimbra, 1935), 83–88; idem, Das Papsttum und Portugal im ersten Jahrhundert der portugiesischen Geschichte (Berlin: Gruyter, 1928), 55, no. 5; Peter Feige, “Die Anfänge des portugiesischen Königtums und seiner Landeskirche,” Spanische Forschungen der Görres-Gesellschaft. Gesammelte Aufsätze zur Kulturgeschichte Spaniens 29 (1978): 294–95. 22. MDI, 137–38, no. 118. 23. Julio González, ed., Regesta de Fernando II (Madrid: Instituto Jerónimo Zurita, 1943), 105. 24. Antonio García y García, “La canonización de San Rosendo de Dumio,” in idem, Estudios sobre la canonística Portuguesa Medieval (Madrid: Fundación universitaria española, 1976), 157–72; Damian J. Smith, “Saint Rosendo, Cardinal Hyacinth and the Almohads,” JMIS 1 (2009): 53–67. 25. AT, 144–45. See Ayala Martínez in this current volume who considers the legate’s actions less specifically related to the Huete campaign. 26. Ana Isabel Sánchez Casabón, ed., Alfonso II Rey de Aragón, Conde de Barcelona y Marqués de Provenza. Documentos (1162–1196), (Zaragoza: Institución Fernando el Católico, 1995), 236–38, no. 161. 27. For Hyacinth’s legations, see Damian J. Smith, “The Iberian Legations of Cardinal Hyacinth Bobone,” in Pope Celestine III: Diplomat and Pastor, ed. John Doran and Damian Smith (Farnham: Ashgate, 2008), 84–115. 28. BC, 5–6. 29. José Luis Martín Rodríguez, ed., Orígenes de la orden militar de Santiago (1170–1195) (Barcelona: CSIC, 1974), 226, no. 53; González, Regesta de Fernando II, 99; González, Alfonso VIII, 1:278. 30. PL, 200:1024–30; Santiago Domínguez Sánchez, ed., Documentos pontificios referentes a la diócesis de León (León: Universidad de León, 2003), 103–7, no. 43; Martín Rodríguez, Orígenes de la orden militar de Santiago, 248–54, no. 73; Eutimio Sastre Santos, La Orden de Santiago y su regla, 2 vols. (Madrid: Universidad Complutense, 1982), 2:3–4; Angel Ferrari, “Alberto de Morra, postulador de la orden de Santiago y su primer cronista,” BRAH 146 (1960): 63–139. 31. Fidel Fita, “Tres bulas inéditas de Alejandro III,” BRAH 12 (1888): 167–68. 32. Joseph O’Callaghan, Reconquest and Crusade in Medieval Spain (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2003), 56. See also Ayala Martínez in this volume. 33. Antonio Chacón Gómez-Monedero, “Las bulas de fundación del obispado de Cuenca,” Cuenca 25/6 (1985): 112, no. 1; James F. Powers, “The Early Reconquest Episcopate at Cuenca,” The Catholic Historical Review 87 (2001): 1–16. 34. González, Alfonso VIII, 2:380; Peter Linehan, History and the Historians (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993), 292–95. See also Adeline Rucquoi, “Alfonso VIII de Castilla y la Realeza,” in eadem, Rex, sapientia, nobilitas: estudios sobre la Península Ibérica medieval (Granada: Universidad de Granada, 2006), 47–86. 35. Rivera Recio, La Iglesia de Toledo, 1:222–6, n. 73–74. 36. Rivera Recio, La Iglesia de Toledo, 1:228, n. 79. 37. Carlos de Ayala Martínez, “Alfonso VIII y la Iglesia de su reino,” in 1212: un año, un reinado, un tiempo de despegue, ed. Esther López Ojeda, XXIII Semana de Estudios Medievales (Logroño: Instituto de Estudios Riojanos, 2013): 279–80. 38. Piero Zerbi, Papato, Impero e ‘respublica christiana’ dal 1187 al 1198 (Milan: Vita e Pensiero, 1955), 179–80, no. 1. It should be noted that Celestine sent a letter, dated

Alfonso VIII and the Papacy 183 March 13, 1195, to urge peace between the kingdoms of León and Castile and encourage cooperation against the Muslims. See Miguel Gómez and Kyle Lincoln, “ ‘The Sins of the Sons of Men’: A New Letter of Pope Celestine III concerning the 1195 Crusade of Alarcos,” Crusades 16 (October 2017). 39. CLRC, ch. 7–13, 41–47; CM, ch. 78–81, 316–19; DRH, bk. 7, ch. 29–30, 251–53. 40. PU Portugal, 376–77, no. 154; Fidel Fita, “Bulas históricas del reino de Navarra,” BRAH 26 (1895): 423–24, no. 3; José Goñi Gaztambide, Historia de la Bula de la Cruzada en España (Vitoria: Editorial del Seminario, 1956), 101. 41. Othmar Hageneder, Anton Haidacher, et al., eds., Die Register Innocenz’ III, 13 vols. to date (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1964–2015) (hereafter Register), 8:175–76, no. 97; MDI, 351, no. 321. 42. MDI, 353–54, no. 326. 43. MDI, 436, no. 416. 44. DRH, bk. 7, ch. 24, 247. 45. William Stubbs, ed., Chronica Magistri Rogeri de Houedene, 4 vols., RS 51 (London, 1868–1871), 3:90. 46. MDI, 168–69, no. 138; González, Alfonso IX, 1:100. 47. “De quadripartita specie nuptiarum” in PL, 217:921–68 (See Isabelle Engamarre, “Il trattato ‘De quadripartita specie nuptiarum’ e la parentela spirituale del Cristo con la Chiesa,” in Innocenzo III: Urbs et Orbis, ed. Andrea Sommerlechner, 2 vols. [Rome: Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo, 2003], 1:340–51). On Innocent and marriage generally, see Michele Maccarrone, “Sacramentalità e indissolubilità del matrimonio nella dottrina di Innocenzo III,” Lateranum 44 (1978): 449–514; On the Mass, see “De Sacro Altaro mysteriis” in PL, 217:773–916. On the De Miseria, see Michele Maccarrone, ed., Lotharii Cardinalis (Innocentii III), De Miseria Humane Conditionis (Lugo: Thesarus Mundi, 1955). 48. MDI, 535, no. 497; Wilhelm Imkamp, Das Kichenbild Innocenz’ III. (1198–1216) (Stuttgart: Hiersemann, 1983), 224. 49. Register 2:128, no. 72; MDI, 210, no. 196. 50. Ibid. 51. Margaret Ruth Morgan, ed., La Continuation de Guillaume de Tyr (1184–1197) (Paris: Librairie orientaliste Paul Geuthner, 1982), 193; “L’Estoire d’Eracles empereur et la conqueste de la terre d’Outremer,” in Recueil des historiens des croisades: Historiens occidentaux, ed. Auguste-Arthur Beugnot & Simon Alexandre Langlois (Paris: Imprimerie imperiale, 1859), 2:219–20. Also see Patrick Williams, “The Assassination of Conrad of Montferrat: Another Suspect?” Traditio 26 (1970): 381–89. 52. MDI, 210, no. 196. On the legation of Rainier, see Joseph O’ Callaghan, “Innocent III and the Kingdoms of Castile and León,” in Pope Innocent III and his World, 317–22. Also see Miriam Shadis, Political Women in the High Middle Ages: Berenguela of Castile (New York: Palgrave, 2002), 68–69. 53. Ibid. On Leonor’s influence, see DRH, bk. 7, ch. 31. 54. MDI, 305–6, no. 276. Jianna Bianchini, The Queen’s Hand: Power and Authority in the Reign of Berenguela of Castile (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2012), 74–75. 55. Register 7:146–50, no. 93–94; MDI, 335–39, no. 304–5; Register 9:10–11, no. 2; MDI, 358, no. 331. 56. Ayala Martínez, “Los obispos de Alfonso VIII,” in Carreiras eclesiásticas no

184 Damian Smith Ocidente Cristão: séc XII–XIV, ed. Koszta László (Lisbon: Universidade Católica Portuguesa, 2007): 154–65; González, Alfonso VIII, 1:411–15. For the early case of Bishop Bernardo of Osma (1174–1176), see Charles Duggan, “The Case of Bernardo of Osma: Royal Influence and Papal Authority in the Diocese of Osma,” in idem, Decretals and the Creation of ‘New Law’ in the Twelfth Century (Aldershot: Ashgate Variorum, 1998), 7:77–96; Peter Linehan, “Royal Influence and Papal Authority in the Diocese of Osma: A Note on ‘Quia Requisistis’ JL 13728,” BMCL 20 (1990): 31–41. 57. Bernard Reilly, “Alfonso VIII, the Castilian Episcopate, and the Accession of Rodrigo Jiménez de Rada as the Archbishop of Toledo in 1210,” The Catholic Historical Review 99 (2013): 437–54. 58. Cf. Richard Fletcher, The Episcopate in the Kingdom of León in the Twelfth Century (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1978), ch. 5. 59. On the statutes of 1180/1, see Ayala Martínez, “Los obispos de Alfonso VIII,” 173–74; Idem, “Alfonso VIII y la Iglesia de su reino,” 261. 60. Register 8:86–87, no. 50; MDI, 344–45, no. 312; PL 215:616–17. 61. “Ne igitur, karissime in Christo fili, ecclesiasticam libertatem deprimere, et synagogam, ac meskitam extollere videaris, neque in Ecclesiam, sponsam Christi, aut ministros ipsius exerceas que tue fidei puritatem offuscent, serenitatem regiam monemus in Domino et hortamur, quatenus predicta omnia et in te corrigas per te ipsum, et in aliis corrigi concessa tibi facias potestate. Alioquin, quantumcumque personam tuam in Domino diligamus, quia ecclesiarum oppressionem, quarum est nobis cura commissa, pati nolumus nec debemus, ut regi Deo potius quam regi homini deferamus, nos noveris venerabilibus fratribus nostris . . Oscensi et . . Tirasonensi episcopis, et dilecto filio . . decano Tirasonensi, nostris litteris iniunxisse, ut te ab huiusmodi per censuram ecclesiasticam, appellatione remota compescant.” Ibid. 62. ES, 16:290–92, which refers to Argaiz’s report of the confession of a Jewish doctor that he had administered poison. It was said that this was done on behalf of Fernando’s successor, Bishop García de Contreras; Demetrio Mansilla, “Episcopologio de Burgos (Siglo XIII),” Hispania Sacra 4 (1951): 318–19; González, Alfonso VIII, 1:390–91, 432–33; Ayala Martínez, “Los obispos,” 159. 63. On which, see Tomás Becket y la península ibérica (1170–1230), ed. Gregoria Cavero Domínguez, Etelvina Fernández González, Fernando Galván Freile, and Ana Suárez González (León: Universidad de León, 2013): 49–66. For a recent revisionist treatment of Henry II of England’s relationship with the papacy, see Nicholas Vincent, “Beyond Becket: King Henry II and the Papacy,” in Pope Alexander III, 257–300. 64. MDI, 475–76, no. 447; 500–1, no. 470. On Alfonso VIII’s apocalyptic language in his letter to Philip Augustus of France (González, Alfonso VIII, 3:557–58, no. 890), see Carlos Ayala, “Alfonso VIII, Cruzada y Cristiandad,” Espacio, Tiempo y Forma 29 (2016): 95. 65. MDI, 520–21, no. 488. 66. MDI, 515, no. 483; PL, 216: 703; Pérez González, “La Carta de Alfonso VIII,” 257. 67. Rivera Recio, La Iglesia de Toledo, 1:228, n. 79. 68. For other subsequent usage of the same phrase, see DRH, bk. 8, ch. 6, 266; Gaines Post, “Blessed Lady Spain. Vincentius Hispanus and Spanish National Imperialism in the Thrteenth Century,” Speculum 29 (1954): 198–209.

Chapter nine “Si Possides Amicum, In Temptatione Posside Illum”: Alfonso VIII and Peter the Catholic Martín Alvira Cabrer

A

ccording to the extant sources, the relationship between Alfonso VIII of Castile and Peter the Catholic, the king of Aragon and count of Barcelona, was excellent. Whether or not one describes them as exceptionally good relations by the standards of the Central Middle Ages, contemporary chroniclers certainly leave us with the impression that there were neither major problems nor major conflicts between the two. From the time he ascended the throne in April 1196, Peter the Catholic was a faithful ally of Alfonso VIII. Generally, the relationship between the monarchies of Castile and Aragon was amicable during most of the twelfth century. This was at least the case from the time of the Emperor Alfonso VII of León-Castile (1126–1157), and Count Ramón Berenguer IV of Barcelona (1131–1162), with the exception of some years of estrangement (1183–1187) and conflict (1190–1192) during the reign of Alfonso the Chaste (or the Troubadour), Peter’s father. One can say that the alliance between the kingdom of Castile and the Crown of Aragon between 1196 and 1213 demonstrates continuity rather than change. The change is, perhaps, the extent of the stability and the strength of the alliance between Alfonso VIII and Peter the Catholic during almost twenty years. One of the most significant indications of this solid relationship is the lengthy account of the battle of Las Navas de Tolosa composed by the archbishop of Toledo, Rodrigo Ximénez de Rada, the most influential historian of the kingdom of Castile. After the conquest of the great fortress of Calatrava by the Christian army, the French and other foreigner troops (ultramontani), who had joined the crusade of 1212, abandoned the expedition. But Peter the Catholic—the archbishop says—“with all his own men remained until the last, allied to the noble king (Alfonso VIII) with indissoluble affection, and according to the words of Solomon, if you possess a friend, possess him in time of trial, for then each can demonstrate how much he loved the other.” In this passage, Rodrigo de Toledo uses the words dilectio (“love”) and diligere (“to esteem,” “to love”). Other sources define the relationship of Alfonso and Peter as a friendship. In his letter to Pope Innocent III after Las Navas, Alfonso VIII himself

185

186 Martín Alvira Cabrer referred to the king of Aragon as amicus noster et consanguineus (“our friend and relative”). The Castilian Chancellor Juan of Osma, another major chronicler, considered Peter the Catholic as Alfonso’s friend (amicus suus). Archbishop Rodrigo referred to Peter as Alfonso’s faithful friend (sibi fideli amico). In the lands of the Crown of Aragon, the second version of the Gesta Comitum Barchinonensium, a Catalan translation dating from 1268–1269 of the previous Latin chronicle, confirms that Peter “was in great love and friendship with the noble Don Alfonso, King of Castile.” We really do not know when this friendship began. Peter the Catholic was born around 1177–1178, at about the time when Alfonso VIII and Peter’s father, Alfonso the Chaste, were conquering the city of Cuenca from the Muslims (September 1177). The king of Castile was then about twenty-two, so between him and Peter the difference in age was that between a father and a son. That said, no objective data allows us to suggest that there was any sort of parentchild relationship between them. Alfonso VIII was half Castilian and half Navarrese; Peter the Catholic, half Catalan-Aragonese and half Castilian. Both were grandchildren of Alfonso VII of León-Castile and they were first cousins. Alfonso VIII grew up alone, without a father, mother, or brothers, and overcame a long and difficult minority. Unsurprisingly therefore, in France he was remembered as the petit king. As far away as the kingdom of Scotland, in the Cistercian abbey of Melrose, Alfonso was still called the “boy king” (Rex Parvus) in 1212. The personal history of Alfonso VIII—a very long reign (fiftysix years), a lonely childhood, a difficult minority, great victories over Islam— has more in common with the life of James I the Conqueror (1213–1276), than with that of Peter the Catholic. Peter’s personal story was quite different. He was around eighteen when his father died and about thirty when his mother died. Growing up, he had (at least) six brothers and sisters: Alfonso, count of Provence (d. 1209); Ferdinand, abbot of Montearagón (d. 1248); Constance, queen of Hungary and later queen of Sicily and empress (d. 1222); Eleanor (d. c. 1227) and Sancha (d. 1249), countesses of Toulouse, and Dulce, who was a Hospitaller nun at Sigena (d. 1189). Both Alfonso VIII and Peter married only once, although their marital lives were very different. The marriage of Alfonso VIII and Leonor Plantagenet has been described as most happy (“felicísimo”) during the forty-four years that it lasted. Of course, it is difficult for us to measure the degree of happiness of a couple in the thirteenth century, but it seems clear that Alfonso and Leonor’s was something of a model marriage. By contrast, the marriage of Peter the Catholic and Marie of Montpellier had all the problems typical of a marriage of convenience. The marriage was a product of the king’s desire to obtain the wealthy and important Mediterranean city that his wife held, with a poor relationship between spouses almost from the beginning, and pressure placed upon the queen to accept the king’s contempt for the terms of the initial marriage agreement. How extraordinary it was that this couple ever conceived a

Alfonso VIII and Peter the Catholic 187 child (and hence the romantic and legendary stories concerning the engendering of James I)! We do not know of any lovers of Alfonso VIII, since the famous “Jewess of Toledo” is legendary. We do not know of illegitimate children and it seems the king was a devoted husband to Leonor. Peter the Catholic, however, left at least two illegitimate children: Petrus de Rege, a canon and sacristan of the cathedral of Lleida, and Constanza, who in 1212 was married to the powerful Catalan baron Guillem Ramón de Montcada. More significantly, Peter the Catholic has gone down in history as a womanizer, an image created mainly by his son, James. In his autobiographical Llibre dels Fets, totally without shame, the Conqueror portrayed his father as a tireless and irrepressible Casanova. The ties between Peter the Catholic with the culture of the Occitan troubadours have encouraged this portrayal. It is worth pointing out, however, that no Castilian king promoted and sponsored that same troubadouresque culture more than Alfonso VIII, who was not a womanizer. It is difficult to know the actual personalities of Alfonso VIII and Peter the Catholic, because it is virtually impossible to escape the conventional, stereotypical portraits provided by the sources of the time. Alfonso VIII was an ideal monarch in the eyes of the Chancellor, Juan of Osma, and Archbishop Rodrigo Ximénez de Rada. Rodrigo wrote a famously laudatory chapter of his De rebus Hispaniae, where he glossed the virtues of the “noble Alfonso”: wisdom, patience, serenity, magnanimity, kindness, goodness, a sense of justice, loyalty, curialitas, and largesse, as well as nobility, strength, and courage. Concerning Peter the Catholic, his son James said he was “the most generous king there ever was in Spain, and the most courteous, and the most affable,” and “a good knight-at-arms, if ever there was a good one in the world.” The earlier version of the Gesta Comitum Barcinonensium gives us a report of the reign composed in court circles around 1214–1218. It describes Peter as an ambitious monarch who wanted to outdo the nobility, generosity, fame, and dignity of his ancestors. The Gesta also related that Peter was a faithful vassal of the pope and a tireless fighter against the Muslims. A “cocktail” of monarchic, courtly, and chivalric virtues complete the portrait, which is reminiscent of those used by Castilian chroniclers to describe Alfonso VIII: good looks, honesty, largesse, military prowess, fame, and liberality. Yet we can probably never exactly know the distance between the formal portrait and the real king. We do not know when Alfonso and Peter first met. Peter had his first “political contact” with the king of Castile when he was about twelve or thirteen, and paradoxically, it was manifestly hostile. In September 1190, Prince Peter signed, alongside his father, Alfonso, an alliance with the king of Navarre, Sancho VI the Wise, specifically directed against Alfonso VIII. However, after some years of conflict, Peter’s father restored good relations with Castile. Historians have attributed the political rapprochement to the ascendancy of Peter’s mother, Queen Sancha, who was the paternal aunt of Alfonso VIII. The

188 Martín Alvira Cabrer Chancellor Juan of Osma says that Sancha professed an inordinate love for her nephew and a great influence on her son, and that both these circumstances made the alliance of the two possible. It should be remembered that Sancha’s influence on her son was not merely personal or sentimental, but also political. In his will, Alfonso the Chaste appointed Sancha regent of the Crown of Aragon until Peter was twenty years old (1197–1198) and this was probably done in order to maintain the alliance with Alfonso VIII, guarantee Castilian support for the young king, and anticipate any confrontation between the crown and the powerful Aragonese and Catalan nobles. Furthermore, Queen Sancha appears to have been a woman of great personality and character. In the late thirteenth century, the Crónica de Castilla (c. 1295–1312) related that, around 1203, she had managed to negotiate a meeting between four of the five Iberian Christian kings (Castile, León, Aragon, and Navarre). Besides the influence of Sancha, as mother and regent, it is clear that in the Central Middle Ages (as today), political decisions were not solely a matter of the relations between persons. The king also governed through the consilium of his entourage. Nor should we forget that the so-called “foreign policy” of a kingdom was at the time not solely a matter for individuals and families, but also included other interests. In this sense, an alliance with Castile was a much better political option for the Crown of Aragon than confrontation with Castile. For Alfonso VIII, badly defeated in 1195 by the Almohad Caliph al-Mansur in the battle of Alarcos and afterwards harassed by the kings of León and Navarre, the Catalan-Aragonese alliance was not only a good policy option, but also an authentic strategic necessity. This necessity would have been apparent to both kings immediately. In the summer of 1196, Peter took an army of one thousand men (according to Aragonese annals) to aid Alfonso VIII against the Almohads. They then launched a punitive campaign in the kingdom of León. A year later, in the summer of 1197, Peter returned to Castile in order to help stabilize the Toledan frontier, which was again under attack from the Almohads, and to participate in a second campaign against the kingdom of León. The military cooperation received by Alfonso VIII in these critical moments was also advantageous to Peter. By helping the king of Castile, Peter secured powerful military cooperation early in his reign. The papacy, which was always eager to pacify the relations between the Iberian kings, backed this up. In August 1196, Pope Celestine III took the king of Aragon and his mother Sancha under his protection. Moreover, thanks to Castilian stipends and the campaign spoils, Peter could augment his generally scarce economic resources, reduced by famine and epidemics, which his lands had suffered during 1194–1196. Finally, from a personal point of view, the Leonese campaigns of 1196 and 1197 were the first major military experiences for the young king of Aragon, who probably learned a lot from the veteran Alfonso VIII and his knights. It was certainly in these two summers when the two kings, and perhaps some of their trusted men, forged a strong relationship, both politically and personally.

Alfonso VIII and Peter the Catholic 189 In 1198, Alfonso and Peter set their sights on the king of Navarre, Sancho VII the Strong, their rival and the ally of their common Almohad enemy. In May, they signed the treaty of Calatayud, a pact of friendship and alliance against all their enemies, including specifically Sancho and Count Ermengol VIII of Urgell (who was also allied to the Almohads). The most important part of the treaty divided the kingdom of Navarre between Castile and Aragon. For both kings, this was a good opportunity to expand their lands, and the invasion began in the early summer. Peter the Catholic successfully occupied some of the eastern Navarrese territories, but probably the costs of the campaign and a new alliance of Alfonso VIII with the king of León led him to sign a separate peace with Sancho. Peter demanded of Sancho as a condition of peace that he receive Sancho’s sister in marriage. The king of Navarre had no heir and therefore Peter hoped that he could in the future unify the two kingdoms. Alfonso VIII, informed of the agreement, forced Sancho to swear to the promise of marriage, but Pope Innocent III annulled it in February 1199 for reasons of consanguinity. Alfonso then continued the war against Navarre alone, annexing to Castile the Basques’ territories of Guipúzcoa and Álava (1199–1200). Peter the Catholic was not involved in these campaigns. Indeed, there were other priorities in the foreign policy of the Crown of Aragon. The first, in the south, was the expansion of warfare against the Almohad Caliphate, aimed at obtaining loot and lands in order to relieve the increasing pressure on the crown because of the frustrated ambitions of the Aragonese and Catalan barons. The second, in the north, was to consolidate the hegemony in the Occitan territories of southern France. To make progress on these two “fronts,” Peter the Catholic needed stability in his relations with other peninsular realms, and especially with the kingdom of Castile. Hence, there were no significant changes during the years after 1198. This close alliance had an impact on the broader political chessboard of Western Europe. In October 1201, King John of England agreed to a treaty of alliance with Sancho VII of Navarre against all men in the world except the Almohad Caliph. Later, in February 1202, both agreed to another treaty, in which the English king demanded that Sancho not reach any agreements with the kings of Castile and Aragon, because John was in conflict with them. We should recall that relations between Castile and the Angevin Empire had deteriorated after the marriage of Richard the Lion-Heart with Berenguela of Navarre, sister of Sancho VII. In 1200, Alfonso VIII reacted to this by approaching the Capetians. He married his daughter Blanche with Louis, the son of King Philip II Augustus of France. In the same year, Alfonso annexed a portion of the Navarrese territory and in doing so extended the Castilian borders as far as Plantagenet Gascony, the dowry of Queen Leonor (at least from her husband’s viewpoint), which Alfonso aspired to control effectively. John Lackland’s problems with Peter the Catholic stemmed from Peter’s close alliance with Castile and his hostility toward the kingdom of Navarre,

190 Martín Alvira Cabrer the strategic ally of the Angevin Empire in the southwest of France. These tensions were further exarcebated by the hegemonic aspirations of the king of Aragon in the Occitan region. Throughout most of the the twelfth century, the counts of Toulouse, supported by the French Capetians, had conducted two parallel wars: a “Forty Years War” against the Plantagenets, and a longer, more intense and less well-known “Grande guerre méridionale” or “Great Occitan War” against the counts of Barcelona, who became kings of Aragon and allies of the Plantagenet Empire. At the end of the century, the Toulousans realized they could not win and decided to approach their traditional enemies. In 1196, Raymond VI married Princess Joan, sister of Richard the Lion-Heart and John Lackland. The countess died in 1199 and Raymond VI, reconciled with Peter the Catholic from 1198, and fearing the reaction of the papacy to the pressing problem of heresy in his lands, openly approached the king of Aragon. Around 1200 (or 1202), he agreed to marry Princess Leonor, the sister of Peter. It was probably this recognition of the Crown of Aragon’s hegemony by the count of Toulouse, which spurred the reaction of King John. In this context, especially from 1204, Peter the Catholic embarked on an extremely ambitious Occitan policy. In January, his sister Leonor was married with Raymond VI of Toulouse. In June, the king married Marie, the heiress of Montpellier, increasing the Catalan-Aragonese influence in southern France. In November, he strengthened his alliance with the papacy, declaring himself a vassal of the Holy See and Pope Innocent III crowned him in Rome. The king also began negotiations to marry his sister Constanza with Frederick, king of Sicily, and proposed to the pope a crusade for conquering Majorca, invaded by the Almohads in summer 1203. A few months earlier, in April 1204, Peter had agreed to the treaty of Millau, a pact of alliance and mutual defence with his brother Alfonso II, count of Provence, and his brother-in-law Raymond VI, count of Toulouse. This treaty meant creating a political-military bloc (Catalan-Aragonese, Provençal, and Toulousan) at exactly the time when Rome was increasing its coercive measures against the heretics of the Midi. The alliance between the Crown of Aragon and the county of Toulouse would accelerate this latter process, leading Pope Innocent to propose to the king of France the leadership of an antiheretical crusade in the Midi, an operation finally launched in March 1208. The outbreak of the Albigensian Crusade threatened the political hegemony of the king of Aragon in southern France. The war began in 1209. It coincided with increased military tension on the Christian borders with Almohad alAndalus. In this sense, Peter the Catholic was very unlucky, as his two vital “fronts” became active almost simultaneously. In the north, the king had to stall. Innocent III would have viewed opposition to the crusade as an act of evident complicity with heresy. In al-Andalus, however, Peter took the initiative. In fact, the antebellum measures taken by the king of Aragon (grants and

Alfonso VIII and Peter the Catholic 191 privileges, especially to military orders) would increase from 1208–1209, and coincided with the beginning of the Albigensian conflict in southern France. In the years 1209–1212, the political and military cooperation (or friendship) between Alfonso VIII and Peter the Catholic reached its peak. The Castilian chroniclers attributed to Alfonso the beginning of the war that would end in the great battle of Las Navas de Tolosa. In reality, the attacks of the king of Aragon and military orders on Andalusian borders (no doubt with the at least tacit approval of the Castilian monarch) caused the military reaction of the Almohad Caliphate, which eventually led to Las Navas. The outbreak of hostilities had its casus belli in the Castilian repopulation of the town of Moya (Cuenca) and the Catalan-Aragonese conquest of the region now called the “Rincón de Ademuz” (northwest of Valencia). These places are not far apart and certainly too close for us not to appreciate the existence of a coordinated strategy of the kings of Castile and Aragon to press on that particular area of the eastern borders of al-Andalus. The Gesta Comitum Barchinonensium I and the Arab chronicle of the Maghrebian Ibn ‘Idhārī al-Marrākusī state that it was Peter the Catholic who provoked the military reaction of the Almohad caliph. Therefore, it is possible to suggest that, in the spring of 1211, the Almohads were considering attacking the Crown of Aragon rather than the kingdom of Castile. In the end, Caliph an-Nasir aimed for the most powerful enemy, Alfonso VIII, and the nearest target, the Calatravan fortress of Salvatierra, which fell to the Muslims in September 1211. Two months later, in November, Peter the Catholic met Alfonso VIII in Cuenca to promise that he would be at his side, as usual, in the campaign of 1212. On the decisive role of the Crown of Aragon in the battle of Las Navas de Tolosa, it is necessary to take into account several wills of Catalan and Aragonese knights studied by Miguel Gómez. As well as this, we must consult not only the Catalan-Aragonese sources, but also the Castilian chroniclers, Juan of Osma and Rodrigo of Toledo, because both recognized the important role of King Peter and his men in the pitched battle, as well as in the conquest of the city of Úbeda. Alfonso VIII and Peter the Catholic’s friendship is well-known because of the success of the Las Navas campaign. But Alfonso personally intervened in the dispute that pitted Peter against his mother, Queen Sancha, for control of the castles of her dowry, a grim conflict which was already apparent in 1198 (at the treaty of Calatayud) and was finally resolved at the Concord of Ariza (September 1200). Peter’s diplomatic efforts on behalf of Alfonso VIII were even more relevant. Julio González believed that the king of Castile always exerted great influence over the younger king of Aragon. Perhaps it would be fairer to say that the influence worked in both directions. Thus, for example, González himself asserted that Alfonso VIII forgave some Castilian “desnaturados” (rebels or enemies of the king) through the intercession of Peter the Catholic.

192 Martín Alvira Cabrer At the level of high politics, a late and not very often cited notice says that the king of Aragon had agreed a meeting in August 1205 with King John of England, presumably to mediate in the war of Gascony. A year earlier, in April 1204, Eleanor of Aquitaine, mother of the queen of Castile, had died, and Alfonso VIII, wanting to achieve Castilian dominion over Gascony, invaded southwestern France. We do not know if this interview of the kings of Aragon and England took place, but it had no consequences for Alfonso VIII, as the Gascon war extended until 1207. The influence of Peter the Catholic was effective, however, in the relationship between Castile and Navarre. The five-year truce agreed to by Alfonso VIII and Sancho VII in the treaty of Guadalajara (October 1207) was made possible thanks to the mediation of the king of Aragon. Moreover, the participation of the Navarrese monarch in the campaign of Las Navas, usually attributed to the crusader spirit of King Sancho the Strong, has recently been placed in the context of the thaw in the relations between the kingdom of Navarre and the Crown of Aragon during the previous years. We can also ask if, in the nearly twenty years of political and personal relations, there was any discord, any “time of trial”—as Rodrigo de Toledo said quoting King Solomon—that threatened the friendship of Alfonso VIII and Peter the Catholic. The truth is that the sources do not indicate it. It is possible, however, to point out some circumstances that could have been a source of tension between the two kings. One is the presence of Castilian “desnaturados” in the court of Peter of Aragon. The most significant case is that of the magnate Pedro Fernández de Castro “the Castilian,” whom the Chancellor Juan of Osma defined as a capital enemy (inimicum capitalem) of Alfonso VIII. Pedro Fernández spent much of his life outside of Castile and in the lands of the major enemies of his king. From 1194, he was allied to Alfonso IX of León and the Almohad caliphs. In fact, at the battle of Alarcos (1195), he fought in the Muslim ranks and, in 1212, it was he who proposed to the Leonese king that he should attack the Castilian borders, while Alfonso VIII fought the Almohads in the campaign of Las Navas. More interesting are the relations of Pedro Fernández de Castro with the eastern Iberian powers. In 1199, the enemy of Alfonso VIII moved to the Catalan county of Urgell and signed a pact of friendship and mutual defence with Ermengol VIII, who was then at war with Peter the Catholic. At that time, both were enemies of the kings of Castile and Aragon, and both were vassals of the Almohad caliph. Until 1203, Pedro Fernández de Castro was ally and guarantor of the count of Urgell, to whom he was related and hoped to succeed in the county. From 1204, he moved to the kingdom of León, but in 1206, he became a vassal of Peter the Catholic, for several weeks occupying the office of royal mayordomo. Their mutual interests explain this close proximity. Pedro Fernández won royal support for his succession in Urgell at a time when Peter was at odds with Ermengol VIII. In return, Peter the Catholic won from Pedro Fernández the recognition of royal dominion over the county of Urgell as well

Alfonso VIII and Peter the Catholic 193 as the loan of large sums of money from “the Castilian.” The debt was renegotiated in 1208 and, in exchange, the king gave him the domains of Zaragoza, Teruel, and Calatayud, three of the most important places in Aragon. Then the intricate conflict for the county of Urgell took a new turn, as the king of Aragon promised to defend the legacy of Ermengol VIII against other barons. Nonetheless, in 1210, Pedro Fernández de Castro, as well as his family and properties, received royal protection, which shows that the relationship remained stable. Other members of the powerful lineage of Castro, Pedro Gutiérrez and his brother Álvaro, were also mayordomos of King Peter, appearing along with other Castilians in royal documents dated to 1206, 1208, and 1213. What did Alfonso VIII think about the relationship between Pedro Fernández de Castro, his “public enemy number one,” and the king of Aragon, his ally and loyal friend? All that can be said, according to the available sources, is that the links established by Pedro Fernández de Castro and Peter the Catholic did not alter the good relations between the two monarchs. To find a clear discrepancy between Alfonso VIII and Peter the Catholic, we must return to the Las Navas campaign. On July 8, 1212, in front of the castle of Salvatierra, the leaders of the Christian army held a council of war. As a letter written by Princess Blanche of Castile tells us, her father, Alfonso VIII, proposed to divert the campaign towards the kingdom of León. At this moment, the Christian army had penetrated into Islamic territory near the Sierra Morena and the Almohad caliph remained on the defensive, and had not accepted that there would be an open field confrontation. Even though the letter does not say so, the Castilians knew that Alfonso IX of León was attacking the western lands of their kingdom. Alfonso VIII’s proposal, however, met with outright rejection from the King of Navarre, Sancho VII, who said he was there to fight the Muslims. This position was echoed by the Archbishop of Narbonne, the Catalan Arnau Amalric, and by Peter the Catholic himself. If the king of Aragon had supported Alfonso VIII at that moment, then it would have produced a rift within the crusader army and perhaps today we would not talk of the battle of Las Navas de Tolosa! The Llibre del rei En Pere, by the Catalan chronicler Bernat Desclot (written c. 1285–1288), relates another possible occasion of friction. When ordering the troops before the battle, the king of Castile took command of the vanguard, the king of Navarre commanded the center, while the king of Aragon was left with the rearguard. Peter the Catholic, therefore, fo molt agreujat (“he was very aggrieved”). We can see in this account the importance of chivalric notions of honor for those who fight on the front line in a pitched battle. To save his dishonor, King Peter placed a portion of his troops in a hidden position behind the Almohad army. Once the battle began, these troops attacked the Muslims and decided the contest. In this late version of Las Navas, all ends well, because Alfonso VIII recognizes the special merit of the king of Aragon in the victory. Competition for the booty could also generate tension between the troops of

194 Martín Alvira Cabrer the kings of Aragon and Castile. Before the battle, the leaders of the Christian army ordered that, in case of victory, no one must abandon the pursuit of the Almohads for the sake of booty. According to the Gesta Comitum Barchinonensium I, the Castilians plundered the field, while King Peter, complying with the order, continued the pursuit without worrying about the spoils. Archbishop Rodrigo of Toledo, however, narrates that most of the foot soldiers and some knights of the king of Aragon abandoned the pursuit. There are no further details in either source about this episode, and therefore we do not know if there were consequences for the whole army. The battle of Las Navas de Tolosa was the highlight of the reigns of Alfonso VIII and Peter the Catholic. The first needed the victory in order to extend the Castilian borders at the expense of the Almohad Caliphate. The second used his collaboration in the victory to legitimize his intervention in the Albigensian conflict. The military situation of his Occitan allies and subjects was desperate in 1212 because of their continuous defeats by the French crusaders of Simon de Montfort. Peter wanted to take advantage of this favorable opportunity to consolidate the political hegemony of the Crown of Aragon in southern France. However, the diplomatic and military operation of Peter the Catholic ended in a total disaster, with his defeat and death in the battle of Muret (September 12, 1213). Clearly, the political and religious situation of southern France was wellknown in Castile. We have already mentioned the importance of the presence of the troubadours in the court of Alfonso VIII; among them, Peire d’Alvernha (1149–1168), Giraut de Bornelh (1162–1199), the Toulousan Peire Vidal (1183– 1204), Guiraut of Calanson (1211), Guilhem Ademar (1195–1217), and Aimeric of Peguilhan (1190–1221). It was moreover, two emissaries of Alfonso VIII—the bishop of Osma, Diego de Acebes, and the canon Domingo, founder of the Order of Preachers—who decided to stay in the Midi to persuade the Cathars to abandon their errors. Regarding the Albigensian Crusade, Castilian chroniclers such as Juan of Osma and Rodrigo of Toledo say that it was a just and necessary war to eradicate heretical depravity. Sometimes it is forgotten that in November 1209, Pope Innocent III wrote to the king of Castile (and to the king of Aragon) to seek their cooperation in the fight against the Occitan heretics. Castilian sources say nothing about this letter or the silence of Alfonso VIII, who probably did not respond because of the impending war against the Almohads, which was far more important for him. We do not know the attitude of Alfonso VIII in the summer of 1213, when Peter the Catholic brought together his knights to march to southern France and destroy the army of the Albigensian Crusade. In the Castilian court of the mid-thirteenth century there seem to have been at least two interpretations of what happened. One, adopted by Juan of Osma, that condemned the king of Aragon for complicity with heresy; another, developed by Archbishop Rodrigo, that justified his old ally in defending his Occitan vassals who had been

Alfonso VIII and Peter the Catholic 195 mistreated by the crusaders of Simon de Montfort. The truth is that it is difficult to assess attitudes when we only have texts written after the “judgment of God” of September 1213. In death and remembrance is where Alfonso VIII and Peter the Catholic differ most. On one side, is the tragic death of the king of Aragon in Muret, surrounded by “heretics,” fighting the army of the Church and leaving his realm defeated, ruined, and helpless for nearly twenty years. On the other side is the good death of the king of Castile, surrounded by his wife and children, reconciled with the Church and leaving his kingdom victorious over the Muslims. These two very different finales—and the battles with which we continue associating these kings (Las Navas de Tolosa and Muret)—have conditioned the memory of Alfonso VIII and Peter the Catholic until today. The Castilian-Leonese chroniclers of the thirteenth century turned Alfonso VIII into the paradigm of the good king, and this image has largely come down to us. Peter the Catholic, however, was overshadowed by the great figure of his son, James the Conqueror, the initiator of a new era in the history of the Crown of Aragon. In the medium and long term, while the reign of Ferdinand III would be seen as the culmination of the successes of Alfonso VIII, the reign of James I the Conqueror would be seen as a recovery from the collapse of that of Peter the Catholic. Notes This work is part of the research project I+D Violencia religiosa en la Edad Media peninsular: guerra, discurso apologético y relato historiográfico (ss. X–XV), financed by the Agencia Estatal de Investigación of the Ministerio de Economía y CompetitividadGovernment of Spain (reference: HAR2016-74968-P). 1. Peter the Catholic is “Pedro II” in Aragon (as the second king of Aragon of that name) and “Pere I” in Catalonia (as first count of Barcelona of that name). He was king of the Aragonese and Catalans, so there is no reason to attribute a single origin or to catalanize his name, as some English–speaking specialists do. We prefer to use his sobriquet, which is a neutral formula accepted by Catalans and Aragonese. The expression “Count-King” does not exist in medieval sources: in diplomatic ones, the official title is rex Aragonum et comes Barchinone. On this, see Martín Alvira Cabrer, “Tòpics i llocs comuns d’una batalla decisiva: Muret 1213,” Butlletí de la Societat Catalana d’Estudis Històrics 25 (2014): 19–43. 2. Bernard F. Reilly, The Kingdom of León–Castilla under King Alfonso VII, 1126–1157 (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1998), 75, 109, 308, 319; Josep–David Garrido, Ramon Berenguer IV (Barcelona: Rafael Dalmau, 2014), 131–45, 255–60; José Ángel Sesma, “Alfonso II, primer rey de la Corona de Aragón,” Historia de España Ramón Menéndez Pidal, IX: La reconquista y el proceso de diferenciación política (1035–1217), ed. Miguel Ángel Ladero Quesada (Madrid: Espasa Calpe, 1998), 706–10. 3. Besides the works mentioned, see Carlos Estepa, “La monarquía de Alfonso VIII de Castilla (1158–1214) en el sistema de estados europeos,” Dialéctica Histórica y compromiso social. Homenaje a Domingo Plácido, ed. César Fornis, 3 vols. (Zaragoza: Libros Pórtico, 2010), 1:175–92.

196 Martín Alvira Cabrer 4. “Rex Aragonum cum omnibus suis usque ad finem permansit indissolubili dilectione regi nobili federatus, et quia sicut dicit Salomon: ‘Si possides amicum, in temptatione posside illum,’ hic probari potuit quisque qualiter diligebat.” DRH, bk. 8, ch. 6. 5. On friendship in medieval Iberia, see Antonella Liuzzo Scorpo, Friendship in Medieval Iberia: Historical, Legal and Literary Perspectives (Aldershot, Ashgate, 2014), 144–45. 6. Maurilio Pérez González, “Sobre la edición de textos latinos medievales: la carta de Alfonso VIII a Inocencio III en 1212,” Veleia 17 (2000): 254. 7. CLRC, ch. 20, 7–118. 8. DRH, bk.7, ch. 30, 252. 9. Gesta Comitum Barchinonensium II, ed. Stefano M. Cingolani, Gestes dels Comtes de Barcelona i Reis d’Aragó (Valencia: Universitat de València, 2008), ch. 22, pt. 7. 10. “Era MªCCªXVI, anno MºCLXXVIII [. . .] In mense iulio et rex Petrus natus est, Annals de Tortosa II (1097–1210),” ed. Stefano M. Cingolani, El annals de la família rivipullense i les genealogies de Pallars–Ribagorça (Valencia: Universitat de València, 2008), 137. Some Catalan historians suggest that Peter was born in 1177, probably in Tarragona: Emili Morera, Tarragona Cristiana: Historia del Arzobispado de Tarragona y del territorio de su provincia, 2 vols. (Tarragona: F. Arís e hijo, 1897–1901), 1:487; Enric Bagué, “Pere el Catòlic,” Els Primers Comtes–Reis (Barcelona: Vicens–Vives, 1960), 107. Some Aragonese historians, instead, suggest that he was born in 1178, probably in Huesca (because his father Alfonso was there): Antonio Ubieto Arteta, “El sentimiento antileonés en el Cantar de Mío Cid,” En la España Medieval 1 (1980): 560; Juan F. Utrilla, “Pedro II,” Los Reyes de Aragón (Zaragoza: Caja de Ahorros Inmaculada, 1993), 74. If Peter remained under the tutelage of his mother, Queen Sancha, until April 1197, he was probably born in April 1177 as suggested by Damian J. Smith, Innocent III and the Crown of Aragon: The Limits of Papal Authority (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004), 15. 11. Alfonso VIII was probably born in Soria in November 1155: González, Alfonso VIII, 1:144. 12. González, Alfonso VIII, 1:137–79. 13. “Don Alfonso, rei de Castilla e de Toledo, el qual de los françeses era llamado ‘petit,’ Segunda crónica anónima de Sahagún,” Crónicas Anónimas de Sahagún, ed. Antonio Ubieto Arteta, Textos Medievales, 75 (Zaragoza: Anubar, 1987): 140; Alberic of Trois–Fontaines, Chronica, ed. Georg H. Pertz, MGHSS, 23:894; Robert of Torigni (or Monte), Chronica, ed. Richard Howlett, The Chronicle of Robert of Torigni (London: Longman, 1889). Chronicles of the Reigns of Stephen, Henry II, and Richard I, 4. Rerum Britannicarum Medii Aevi Scriptores), 303. 14. Chronica de Mailros, ed. Joseph Stevenson (Edinburgh: Typis Societatis Edinburgensis, 1835), 112. 15. The bibliography on King James is very extensive. Some recent works are Rafael Narbona, ed., Jaume I i el seu temps 800 anys després (Valencia: Universitat de València, 2012); Maria Teresa Ferrer i Mallol, ed., Jaume I. Commemoració del VIII centenari del naixement de Jaume I, 2 vols., (Barcelona: Institut d’Estudis Catalans, 2011–2013). 16. Gonzalo Martínez Díez, Alfonso VIII, rey de Castilla y Toledo (Palencia: La Olmeda, 1995), 45. 17. On this marriage, see Johannes Vincke, “Der Eheprozess Peters II von Aragón (1206–1213),” Spanische Forschungen der Görresgesellschaft 15 (1935): 108–89; Martin

Alfonso VIII and Peter the Catholic 197 Aurell, Les noces du comte. Mariage et pouvoir en Catalogne (785–1213) (Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne, 1995), 427–33. 18. James I, Llibre dels Fets, ed. Jordi Bruguera, Llibre dels Fets del rei En Jaume, 2 vols., Barcelona: Barcino, 1991), 2:10, ch. 5; Trans. Damian J. Smith and Helena Buffery, The Book of Deeds of James I of Aragon: A translation of the medieval Catalan “Llibre dels Fets” (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2003), ch. 5. On this episode, see François Delpech, Histoire et Légende. Essai sur la genèse d’un thème épique aragonais (La naissance merveilleuse de Jacques I le Conquérant) (Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne, 1993), 17–21; Martí de Riquer, “L’engendrament del rei Jaume,” in idem, Llegendes històriques catalanes (Barcelona: Quaderns Crema, 2000), 49–103. 19. See González, Alfonso VIII, 1:46, 184; Amaia Arizaleta, “Una historia al margen: Alfonso VIII de Castilla y la Judía de Toledo,” Atalaya 11 (2000–2001): 33–64, esp. 50–54, 58–61; Ghislain Baury, “Diego López le Bon, Diego López le Mauvais. Comment s’est construite la mémoire d’un magnat du règne d’Alphonse VIII de Castille,” Berceo 144 (2003): 67, 69–70, 72; Amaia Arizaleta and Stéphanie Jean-Marie, “En el umbral de santidad: Alfonso VIII de Castilla,” Pratiques hagiographiques dans l’Espagne du Moyen Âge et du Siècle d’Or, ed. Amaia Arizaleta (Toulouse: CNRS, Université de Toulouse–Le Mirail, 2007), 573–83. 20. On Queen Leonor, see González, Alfonso VIII, 1:185–93; José Manuel Cerda, “Leonor Plantagenet y la consolidación castellana en el reinado de Alfonso VIII,” Anuario de Estudios Medievales 42–2 (2012): 629–52; Ana Rodríguez, La estirpe de Leonor de Aquitania. Mujeres y poder en los siglos XII y XIII (Barcelona: Crítica, 2014), 99–107, 226–37. 21. Martín Alvira Cabrer, Pedro el Católico, Rey de Aragón y Conde de Barcelona (1196–1213): Documentos, Testimonios y Memoria Histórica, 6 vols. (Zaragoza: Institución Fernando el Católico, CSIC, 2010), vol. 1, no. 241; vol. 3, nos. 1400–1; 1404–5; Aurell, Les noces, 445–46. 22. James I, Llibre dels Fets, ch. 8–9. On this subject, see Robert I. Burns, “The Spiritual Life of James the Conqueror, King of Arago–Catalonia, 1208–1276. Portrait and Self–portrait,” The Catholic Historical Review 62 (1976): 1–35, esp. 28–30; Alvira, El Jueves de Muret, 448–58; Stefano M. Cingolani, Jaume I. Història i mite d’un rei (Barcelona: Edicions 62, 2007), 71–72. 23. Saverio Guida, “Pietro il Catolico ed i Trovatori,” Trobadors a la Península Ibèrica. Homenatge al Dr. Martín de Riquer, ed. Vicenç Beltrán (Barcelona: Publicacions de l’Abadia de Montserrat, 2006), 223–40. Also Vicenç Beltrán, ed., 800 anys després de Muret: els trobadors i les relacions catalanooccitanes (Barcelona: Universitat de Barcelona, 2014). 24. Carlos Alvar, La poesía trovadoresca en España y Portugal (Barcelona: Cupsa, 1977), 130–33; Antonio Sánchez Jiménez, “Catalan and Occitan Troubadours at the Court of Alfonso VIII,” La Corónica 32, no. 2 (2004): 101–20. 25. “De prerrogativa virtutum et largitatis nobilis Aldefonsi,” DRH, bk. 8, ch. 4, 262–63. On this subject, see Martín Alvira Cabrer, Las Navas de Tolosa, 1212: idea, liturgia y memoria de la batalla (Madrid: Sílex, 2012), 392–406. 26. James I, Llibre dels Fets, ch. 6. 27. Gesta Comitum Barchinonensium I, ed. Stefano M. Cingolani, Les “Gesta Comitum Barcinonensium” (versió primitiva), la “Brevis historia” i altres textos de Ripoll (Valencia: Universitat de València, 2012), 119–60, ch. 14, pt. 4, 8, 10.

198 Martín Alvira Cabrer 28. Gesta Comitum Barchinonensium I, ch. 14, pt. 13. 29. Ana Isabel Sánchez Casabón, ed., Alfonso II, rey de Aragón, conde de Barcelona y marqués de Provenza: Documentos (1162–1196) (Zaragoza: Institución Fernando el Católico, CSIC, 1995), no. 520. See González, Alfonso VIII, 1:828–29; Ignacio Álvarez Borge, Cambios y alianzas. La política regia en la frontera del Ebro en el reinado de Alfonso VIII de Castilla (1158–1214) (Madrid: CSIC, 2008), 45–46. 30. Antonio Ubieto Arteta, “La peregrinación de Alfonso II de Aragón a Santiago de Compostela,” Estudios de Edad Media de la Corona de Aragón 5 (1952): 438–52; Jordi Ventura, Alfons el Cast: el primer comte-rei (Barcelona, 1961), 260–65; González, Alfonso VIII, 1:826–34, 835–38. 31. González, Alfonso VIII, 1:840–41. On Queen Sancha, see Mariano de Pano, La Santa Reina Doña Sancha: hermana hospitalaria fundadora del monasterio de Sijena (Album de Sijena) (Zaragoza: E. Berdejo Casañal, 1943; first ed., 1920); Marian T. Horvat, Queen Sancha of Aragon and the Royal Monastery of Sigena (PhD diss., University of Kansas, 1994); Mariano de Pano, Real Monasterio de Santa María de Sijena, ed. José Ángel Sesma (Zaragoza: CAI, 2004), and the documents collected in Alvira Cabrer, Pedro el Católico. 32. CLRC, ch. 15, 48–50. 33. H. Salvador Martínez, Berenguela la Grande y su época (1180–1246) (Madrid: Polifemo, 2012), 144–45; Amaia Arizaleta, “La Chronica regum Castellae: aledaños de la ficción,” e–Spania 2 (December 2006): 4–7. 34. Sánchez Casabón, Alfonso II, no. 628; José Ángel Sesma, “El reinado de Pedro II (1196–1213),” Historia de España Ramón Menéndez Pidal. IX, 722–52, esp. 722, 723–27. 35. Crónica de Castilla, ed. Patricia Rochwert–Zuili (Paris: SEMH–Sorbonne, 2010, Les Livres d’e–Spania, Sources, 1), 276; González, Alfonso VIII, 1:862–63; Sesma, “El reinado de Pedro II,” 732. 36. Although it is a topic yet to be studied, it might be possible to speak of the existence of a “regency council” with advisory functions during the early years of the reign of Peter the Catholic. See Alvira Cabrer, Pedro el Católico, 5:2486, chart 6.7. 37. In some Catalan historiography we find the opposing view that the alliance with Alfonso VIII was the initiative of Queen Sancha, not Alfonso the Chaste or Peter, and was only favorable to the interests of Castile: Antoni de Bofarull i Brocá, Historia crítica (civil y eclesiástica) de Cataluña, 8 vols. (Barcelona: Juan Aleu y Fugarull, 1876–1878), 3:102; Jordi Ventura, Pere el Catòlic i Simó de Montfort (Barcelona: Aedos, 1960), 45. 38. Antonio C. Floriano, “Fragmento de unos viejos anales (1089–1196),” BRAH 94 (1929): 133–62, esp. 158. 39. Gesta Comitum Barchinonensium I, ch. 24, pt. 1; CLRC, 48–50, ch. 15; CM, 321–23, ch. 83; DRH, 252–53, bk. 7, ch. 30. See Ambrosio Huici, Las grandes batallas de la Reconquista durante las invasiones africanas (Almorávides, Almohades, Benimerines) (Madrid: Instituto de Estudios Africanos, CSIC, 1956), 174–80; González, Alfonso VIII, 1:841–42, 976–78. 40. Alvira, Pedro el Católico, vol. 1, nos. 56–57. See González, Alfonso VIII, 1:841–42. 41. CLRC, 48–50, ch. 15; Floriano, “Fragmento,” 157; González, Alfonso VIII, 1:841. The famine and fevers are noted by Pere Benito i Monclús, “L’expansió territorial ultrapirinenca de Barcelona i de la Corona d’Aragó: guerra, política i diplomàcia (1067–

Alfonso VIII and Peter the Catholic 199 1213),” Tractats i negociacions diplomàtiques de Catalunya i de la Corona catalanoaragonesa a l’edat mitjana, Vol. I.1: Tractats i negociacions diplomàtiques amb Occitània, França i els estats italians, 1067–1213, ed. Maria Teresa Ferrer i Mallol and Manuel Riu i Riu (Barcelona: Institut d’Estudis Catalans, 2009). Memòries de la Secció Històrico– Arqueològica 83:100–01. The economic situation of King Peter in Thomas Bisson, ed., Fiscal Accounts of Catalonia under the Early Counts–Kings (1151–1213), 2 vols. (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1984), 1:122–50; Sesma, “El reinado de Pedro II,” 725–26. 42. González, Alfonso VIII, vol. 3, no. 667 and 1:842–45; Julio González, “Reclamaciones de Alfonso VIII a Sancho el Fuerte y tratado del reparto de Navarra en 1198,” Hispania 3 (1943): 546–68. 43. Fidel Fita, “Bulas históricas del reino de Navarra en los postreros años del siglo XII,” BRAH 26 (1895): 417–59, esp. 432–33, 445–49. 44. On these conflicts with Navarre, see González, Alfonso VIII, 1:845–54; Luis Javier Fortún, Sancho VII el Fuerte (Pamplona: Mintzoa, 1987): 148–64; Sesma, “El reinado de Pedro II,” 729–30; Jon Andoni Fernández de Larrea, “La conquista castellana de Álava, Guipúzcoa y el Duranguesado (1199 y 1200),” Revista internacional de los estudios vascos 45 (2000): 425–38; Álvarez Borge, Cambios y alianzas, 46–49. 45. Sesma, “El reinado de Pedro II,” 732. 46. See Martín Alvira Cabrer, El Jueves de Muret. 12 de Septiembre de 1213 (Barcelona: Universitat de Barcelona, 2002), 49–91; Benito, “L’expansió territorial,” 63–100. 47. Thomas Rymer, Foedera, conventiones, litterae et cujuscumque generis acta publica, 3rd ed. (The Hague, 1745), 1:40–41. See González, Alfonso VIII, 1:859; Fortún, Sancho VII el Fuerte, 204–6. 48. John Gillingham, Ricardo Corazón de León (Madrid: Sílex, 2012), 209–12. 49. On this subject, see José Manuel Cerda, “La dot gasconne d’Aliénor d’Angleterre. Entre royaume de Castille, royaume de France et royaume d’Angleterre,” Cahiers de civilisation médiévale 54 (2011): 225–42, esp. 234–35. See also González, Alfonso VIII, 1:864–73; Martín Alvira Cabrer and Pascal Buresi, “Alphonse, par la grâce de Dieu, Roi de Castille et de Tolède, Seigneur de Gascogne. Quelques remarques à propos des relations entre Castillans et Aquitains au début du XIIIe s.,” in Aquitaine–Espagne (VIIIe–XIIIe siècle), ed. Philippe Sénac (Poitiers: CESCM, Université de Poitiers, 2001), 219–32; Nicholas Vincent, “A Forgotten War: England and Navarre, 1243–4,” in Thirteenth–century England 11. Proceedings of the Gregynog conference 2005, ed. Björn K.U. Weiler (Woodbridge: Boydell, 2007), 109–46, esp. 111–17. 50. Fortún, Sancho VII el Fuerte, 61–91; Gillingham, Ricardo Corazón de León, 367–68, 413, 438, 442. 51. Richard Benjamin, “A Forty Years War: Toulouse and the Plantagenêts, 1156–96,” Historical Research 61, no. 146 (1988): 270–85; Nicholas Vincent, “The Plantagenets and the Agenais (1150–1250),” in Les Seigneuries dans l’espace Plantagenêt (c. 1150–c. 1250), ed. Martin Aurell and Frédéric Boutoulle (Bordeaux: Ausonius, 2009. Études, 24), 417–56; Charles Higounet, “Un grand chapitre de l’histoire de XIIe siècle: la rivalité des maisons de Toulouse et de Barcelone pour la prépondérance méridionale,” Mélanges Louis Halphen (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 1951), 313–22, esp. 318–20; Ventura, Alfons el Cast, 201–5; Benito, “L’expansió territorial,” 18, 37–102. 52. Benjamin, “A Forty Years War,” 281–82; Laurent Macé, Les comtes de Toulouse et leur entourage (1112–1229) (Toulouse: Privat, 2000), 32–33; Nicholas Vin-

200 Martín Alvira Cabrer cent, “England and the Albigensian Crusade,” in England and Europe in the Reign of Henry III, 1216–1272, ed. Björn K.U. Weiler and Ifor Rowlands (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2002), 67–97, esp. 72; Vincent, “The Plantagenets and the Agenais,” 438–39. 53. Alvira Cabrer, El Jueves de Muret, 67–73, 86–87, 92–94; Benito, “L’expansió territorial,” 102–4. Most authors have dated the negotiation of the marriage to 1200, following the chronicle of William of Puylaurens (W. A. Sibly and M. D. Sibly, trans., The Chronicle of William of Puylaurens. The Albigensian Crusade and its Aftermath [Woodbridge–Rochester: Boydell & Brewer, 2003], ch. 5), but no document attests this and the itineraries of Peter the Catholic and Raymond VI leave it in doubt. The date of November 1202, suggested by Florent Laborie (Les itinéraires du roi Pierre II d’Aragon (1196–1213): tentative d’approche cartographique, 2 vols., Mémoire de maîtrise (Université de Toulouse–Le Mirail, 2005), 1:63–64), seems more likely. 54. Ventura, Pere el Catòlic, 61; Aurell, Les noces du comte, 405–6; Macé, Les comtes de Toulouse, 33; Alvira, El Jueves de Muret, 93; Benito, “L’expansió territorial,” 103–4. 55. Damian J. Smith, “Motivo y significado de la coronación de Pedro II de Aragón,” Hispania 60–1, 204 (2000): 163–79; Damian J. Smith, “Peter II of Aragon, Innocent III and the Albigensian Crusade,” Innocenzo III: Urbs et Orbis. Atti del Congresso Internazionale (Roma, 9–15 settembre 1998), ed. Andrea Sommerlechner (Rome: Società Romana di Storia Patria–ISIME, 2003), 2:1049–64, esp. 1056–57; Smith, Innocent III, 43–70. 56. See Martín Alvira Cabrer, “Le traité de Millau (avril 1204),” La vicomté de Millau au temps de la domination catalano–aragonaise: Rivalités et dissidences (forthcoming). 57. Martín Alvira Cabrer, “Expresiones de la guerra santa en las fuentes del reinado de Pedro el Católico, rey de Aragón y conde de Barcelona (1196–1213),” in Orígenes y desarrollo de la guerra santa en la Península Ibérica: palabras e imágenes para una legitimación (siglos X–XIV), ed. Carlos de Ayala Martínez and Patrick Henriet (Madrid: Casa de Velázquez, 2016), 127–53. 58. Martín Alvira Cabrer, “Prendiendo el fuego de la guerra. Operaciones militares en las fronteras cristiano–almohades entre 1209 y 1211,” in Iglesia, Guerra y Monarquía en la Edad Media: Miscelánea de estudios medievales, ed. José Peña González and Manuel Alejandro Rodríguez de la Peña (Madrid: CEU Ediciones, 2014), 139–92, esp. 162–72. 59. Francisco García Fitz, Las Navas de Tolosa (Barcelona: Ariel, 2005), 140; Alvira, “Prendiendo el fuego,” 165–66. 60. Gesta Comitum Barchinonensium I, ch. 24, pt. 10–11; Ibn ‘Idhārī al-Marrākusī, Al–Bayān al–mugrib fī ijtişār ajbār muluk al–Andalus wa al–Magrib, T. 1 y 2: Los Almohades, Spanish trans. Ambrosio Huici, 2 vols. (Tétouan: Editora Marroquí, 1954), 2:260. 61. Alvira, “Prendiendo el fuego,” 182–83. 62. See the caliph’s letter in Ambrosio Huici, “Estudio sobre la campaña de Las Navas de Tolosa,” Anales del Instituto General y Técnico de Valencia 1–2 (1916): 1–196, esp. 117–19 (Fuentes árabes, ap. 1). 63. CLRC, ch. 20, 55–56; DRH, bk. 8, ch. 1, 259-60. 64. Miguel D. Gómez, “The Battle of Las Navas de Tolosa: The Culture and Practice of Crusading in Medieval Iberia,” (PhD diss., University of Tennessee, 2011), 161–207. Also Alvira Cabrer, Las Navas de Tolosa, 109–11. 65. Alvira Cabrer, Las Navas de Tolosa, 415–19; Martín Alvira Cabrer, “El rey de Aragón Pedro el Católico y sus batallas: del triunfo de Las Navas de Tolosa al desastre

Alfonso VIII and Peter the Catholic 201 de Muret,” in Miradas Cruzadas. Las Navas de Tolosa, 1212–2012, ed. Patrice Cressier and Vicente Salvatierra (Jaén: Universidad de Jaén, 2014), 229–42, esp. 236–37. 66. González, Alfonso VIII, vol. 3, no. 667; Alvira, Pedro el Católico, vol. 1, no. 261. The treaty of Calatayud mentions Queen Sancha, indicating what the two kings should do in case of a conflict with her. This clause might refer to the dispute between Sancha and Peter. See Bofarull, Historia crítica, 3:102; Joaquim Miret i Sans, “Itinerario del rey Pedro I de Cataluña, II en Aragón (1196–1213),” Boletín de la Real Academia de Buenas Letras de Barcelona 3 (1905–1906): 238–49, esp. 245–46; Pano, La Santa Reina, 69; González, Alfonso VIII, 1:856–57; Ventura, Pere el Catòlic, 52–53; Smith, Innocent III, 22. 67. González, Alfonso VIII, 1:875. Alfonso’s protective attitude towards Peter is also noted by Sesma, “El reinado de Pedro II,” 729. 68. González, Alfonso VIII, 1:185. 69. Jerónimo de Zurita, Anales de la Corona de Aragón (1562), ed. Ángel Canellas López, 5 vols. (Zaragoza: Institución Fernando el Católico, CSIC, 1976–1977), vol. 1, bk 2, ch. 52; González, Alfonso VIII, 1:869. King Peter’s stay at Jaca on August 1, 1205 is confirmed by documentary sources (Alvira Cabrer, Pedro el Católico, vol. 2, no. 566). On the war in Gascony at that time, see Alvira and Buresi, “Alphonse, par la grâce de Dieu,” 221–23; Vincent, “A Forgotten War,” 116–17. Another matter for discussion at this meeting would have been the Occitan politics of Peter, particularly his alliance with the counts of Toulouse and Provence agreed in the treaty of Millau. 70. Alvira, Pedro el Católico, vol. 2, no. 718. See González, Alfonso VIII, 1:873–74; Luis Javier Fortún, “De la tempestad al sosiego. Navarra y Castilla en la primera mitad del siglo XIII” Fernando III y su tiempo (1201–1252). VIII Congreso de Estudios Medievales (León: Fundación Sánchez Albornoz, 2003), 259–303, esp. 264; Smith, Innocent III, 89. 71. Fermín Miranda, “Intereses cruzados de la monarquía navarra en el siglo XIII (1194–1270),” Fernando III, tiempo de cruzada, ed. Carlos de Ayala Martínez and Martín Ríos (Madrid: Sílex, 2012), 325–49, esp. 332–34. See also Ángel J. Martín Duque and Luis Javier Fortún, “Relaciones financieras entre Sancho el Fuerte de Navarra y los monarcas de la Corona de Aragón,” in Jaime I y su época: X Congreso de Historia de la Corona de Aragón (Zaragoza: Institución Fernando el Católico, CSIC, 1982), 171–81; Fortún, Sancho VII, 201–16. On King Sancho in Las Navas and his legend, see Alvira, Las Navas de Tolosa, 419–29. 72. The mobility of the Iberian aristocracy is little-studied. Some Aragonese barons owned lands in the kingdom of Castile. An example is Miguel de Luesia, alférez, royal mayordomo and, given his presence in the royal documents, the most trusted man of King Peter. In his will (July 1212), he claimed to own lands “in Aragone et in Castella” (Alvira Cabrer, Pedro el Católico, 3:341, no. 1). 73. CLRC, ch. 28, 67–69. On this magnate, see Julio Pérez Llamazares, “Príncipe leonés, héroe de leyenda oriental: el Castellano,” Hidalguía 6 (1954): 557–76; González, Alfonso VIII, 1:331–36; Inés Calderón, ‘Cum magnatibus regni mei’: La nobleza y la monarquía leonesas durante los reinados de Fernando II y Alfonso IX (1157–1230) (Madrid: CSIC, 2011), 182–86, 410–12. 74. CM, 330–32, bk.4, ch. 91; Alvira Cabrer, Las Navas de Tolosa, 382–84. 75. On this subject, see Alvira Cabrer, “Prendiendo el fuego,” 153–71. 76. Calderón, ‘Cum magnatibus regni mei,’ 520–21, no. 2, 183–84, 411. 77. Alvira Cabrer, Pedro el Católico, vol. 2, no. 620, 622–24, 626, [627], 631, 634 (May 1206).

202 Martín Alvira Cabrer 78. Alvira Cabrer, Pedro el Católico, vol. 2, no. 597 (February 1206), 616, 647. 79. Alvira Cabrer, Pedro el Católico, vol. 2, no. 800. 80. Alvira Cabrer, Pedro el Católico, vol. 2, no. 779. On the conflict for Urgell see also Dolors Domingo, A la recerca d’Aurembiaix d’Urgell (Lleida: Universitat de Lleida, IEL, Diputació, 2007), esp. 13–79. 81. Alvira Cabrer, Pedro el Católico, vol. 3, no. 1.053. 82. Alvira Cabrer, Pedro el Católico, vol. 2, nos. 609, 616, 624, 786, 787, 788, 790, 793, 796, 800, 801, 801 bis, 804, 807, 826, 827, 829, 831, 832; vol. 3, no. 1053, [1056]; vol. 4, no. 1482 and vol. 5, ap. 3.1.1. 83. Another “desnaturado” was Diego López de Haro, who left the Castilian court between late 1201 and 1206, and resided in Navarre and León, DRH, bk. 7, ch.33, 255; CLRC, ch. 17, 51–52; González, Alfonso VIII, 1:305–6, 860–64; Álvarez Borge, Cambios y alianzas, 49–51. A late and probably legendary story says that he also lived in al– Andalus, specifically Valencia, where he fought against King Peter of Aragón, Crónica de Castilla, 276; Crónica de Veinte Reyes, bk. 13, ch. 20; Zurita, Anales, bk. 2, ch. 53 (questioning the historicity of the episode); Huici, “Estudio,” 19 (dated 1206); González, Alfonso VIII, 1:863, n. 100; Alvira, Pedro el Católico, vol. 2, no. 405 (dated 1203?). On this powerful figure, see Baury, “Diego López le Bon,” 40, 41–42, 76. 84. Blanche’s letter in Jean Laporte, Les annales de l’abbaye de Saint–Pierre de Jumièges. Chronique universelle des origines au XIIIe siècle (Rouen: Imp. Lecerf, 1954), 93–97, esp. 95; Alvira, Pedro el Católico, 3:372, no. 1. On this source, Alvira Cabrer, Las Navas de Tolosa, 33–35. 85. Bernat Desclot, Llibre del rei En Pere, ed. Stefano M. Cingolani (Barcelona: Barcino, 2010. Biblioteca Barcino, 6), 71–72, ch. 5. This account is discussed in Cingolani, Historiografia, 75–120, esp. 107–114; Alvira, Las Navas de Tolosa, 242–45. 86. Gesta Comitum Barchinonensium I, ch. 24, pt. 12. 87. DRH, bk. 8, ch. 11, 274. Concerning the booty in this battle, see Alvira Cabrer, Las Navas de Tolosa, 345–50. 88. On the origins, development, and consequences of the Battle of Muret, see Alvira Cabrer, El Jueves de Muret (2002); Martín Alvira Cabrer, Muret 1213: La batalla decisiva de la Cruzada contra los Cátaros (Barcelona: Ariel, 2008). See also Jean Le Pottier, ed., Le temps de la bataille de Muret, 12 septembre 1213: Actes du 61e Congrès de la Fédération historique de Midi-Pyrénées (Muret, 13 et 14 septembre 2013) (FHMP, Société des Etudes du Comminges-Société du Patrimoine du Muretain, 2014); La encrucijada de Muret (Sevilla: Sociedad Española de Estudios Medievales, 2015). 89. See note 23. 90. González, Alfonso VIII, 1:554–56, 869; Damian J. Smith, Crusade, Heresy and Inquisition in the Lands of the Crown of Aragon (c. 1167–1276) (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 151. 91. Martín Alvira Cabrer, “La Cruzada Albigense y la intervención de la Corona de Aragón en Occitania. El recuerdo de las crónicas hispánicas del siglo XIII,” Hispania 60/3, no. 206 (2000): 947–76, esp. 953–56, 973–75. 92. MDI, 429–30, no. 410 (November 11, 1209). Also Ventura, Pere el Catòlic, 117; Alvira Cabrer, El Jueves de Muret, 100; Smith, Innocent III, 87. 93. CLRC, ch. 27, 66–67; Alvira, “La Cruzada Albigense,” 957–58; Martín Alvira Cabrer, “On the Term Albigensians in 13th Century Hispanic Sources,” Imago Temporis: Medium Aevum 3 (2009): 123–37, esp. 134–37. On King Peter and heresy, see also Pilar

Alfonso VIII and Peter the Catholic 203 Jiménez, Les catharismes. Modèles dissidents du christianisme médiéval (Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2008), 313–39; Smith, Crusade, 13–39; Sergi Grau, Cátaros e Inquisición en los reinos hispánicos (siglos XII–XV) (Madrid: Cátedra, 2012), 159–260. 94. DRH, bk. 6, ch. 4, 182: “Nec rex Petrus, cum esset plene catholicus, in fauorem uenerat blasphemorum, set, ut diximus, affinitatis debito provocatus”; Alvira, “La Cruzada Albigense,” 962–64. 95. Ferran Soldevila, Els primers temps de Jaume I (Barcelona: Institut d’Estudis Catalans, 1968); Thomas N. Bisson, “Las finanzas del joven Jaime I (1213–1228),” Jaime I y su época. X Congreso de Historia de la Corona de Aragón (Zaragoza: Institución Fernando el Católico, CSIC, 1979), 2:161–208; Damian J. Smith, “Innocent III and the Minority of James I of Aragon,” Anuario de Estudios Medievales 31 (1999): 19–50; Alvira, El Jueves de Muret, esp. 330–80. 96. On Alfonso’s death, “totam Hispaniam, immo mundum lacrimis madefecit,” according to DRH, bk. 8, ch. 15, 280. 97. Alvira Cabrer, El Jueves de Muret, 411–16, esp. 412; Cingolani, Jaume I, 29–30.

Chapter ten A Prosopography of the Castilian Episcopate in the Reign of Alfonso VIII Kyle C. Lincoln

O

n the role of bishops in medieval León-Castile, Bernard Reilly once wrote: “With few exceptions, bishops were the king’s men and the episcopate was the key institutional element.” While much would change over the course of the twelfth century, Reilly’s statement regarding the role of the episcopate in the times of Alfonso VII would ring just as true in the age of his grandson, Alfonso VIII. Indeed, Carlos de Ayala Martínez has noted elsewhere the high degree of cooperation of the bishops of Castile with their king, focusing especially on their accessions to their sees and relationships with Alfonso VIII as both monarch and patron. But where did those bishops come from and how did they acquire their positions? By plotting their social origins and pre-episcopal careers, we can demonstrate that the bishops of Castile during Alfonso VIII’s reign were as vibrant a class as any in Europe in the long twelfth century. During that span, prelates were promoted more frequently based on merit and connections to aristocratic power centers than based solely on direct royal appointment. The composition of the clergy in the period, as a result, represents the increasing connectivity of local potentates and their networks to the multiple levels of the Castilian monarchy. Naturally, the sources for any sort of episcopological history are predominantly ecclesiastical. This presents certain problems, since the archives of Castile’s cathedrals have long been lamented as substandard when compared to their peers in some other parts of Western Christendom. With the sole exception of Plasencia, however, we are fortunate to have something preserved in the archives of the cathedrals of Castile. Even at Sigüenza, where the documentation of the archives seems to have suffered greatly during the Spanish Civil War, there are still several dozen documents dating to Alfonso’s reign. Even if the sources are less than ideal, the search for the social origins and early—that is to say, pre-episcopal—careers of the bishops of Alfonso VIII’s reign provides more data than one might expect. Using these same ecclesiastical sources we can reveal the background of the prelates, their family connections, and the ways in which they involved themselves in the business of their local churches. From the perspective of their social class, aristocrats and burghers made up the totality of the bishops of the realm, as we might expect, but perhaps more intriguing is the internationalized character of the bishops. In analyzing what can be known about all of them, we can come to better understand both the 204

A Prosopography of the Castilian Episcopate 205 makeup of the class of some of the king’s most powerful vassals and the monarchy as well. The background of each of the bishops, for this study, is broken down into two parts: firstly, their social class and, secondly, the qualifications which brought them to the attention of those in a position to nominate them to the episcopacy. To begin with, there are numerous examples of members of the Iberian aristocracy who served as bishops in Castile during the reign of Alfonso VIII. A notable example is Ramón II of Palencia, whose episcopate was studied admirably by Derek Lomax some forty years ago. Ramón was related to the young king’s mother and grandmother, and as a result was a close enough kinsman that the king referred to the prelate as “my uncle.” Another important figure here, of course, is Rodrigo Ximénez de Rada, whose family was of the Navarrese ricos hombres. We can add to these well-known examples a host of others: Martín de Finojosa of Sigüenza was the cousin of Don Rodrigo Ximénez de Rada, and his father was the count of Finojosa de Campos and Deza in Soria. Martín de Finojosa’s nephew Rodrigo served as his successor at Sigüenza. At Burgos, Bishop Fernando González was referred to by King Alfonso on numerous occasions as “my dearest and most beloved nephew.” Martín Bazán of Osma and his successor Diego de Acebes were noblemen of Navarrese and Castilian origins respectively. Pere de Cardona, elect of Toledo and later cardinal, was of the Catalan nobility. Tello Téllez de Meneses of Palencia was the son of one of Alfonso VIII’s favorite counts. The short-lived Gutiérre Rodríguez Girón and more enduring Gonzalo Miguel, both bishops of Segovia, were scions of local noble families, whose fathers were both close vassals of Alfonso VIII and were his mayordomo and vassal-lord of Moratilla respectively. Juan Yáñez of Cuenca is traditionally thought to be the son of Juan Tellez of Toledo, a nobleman of some standing at the court. The canonist and bishop of Osma, Melendo, is traditionally identified as being the son of García Sánchez Valdés, an influential Asturian nobleman, but recent scholarship has favored his identification as being of noble Portuguese extraction. Although a Castilian novus homo, Joscelmo of Sigüenza’s father held royal properties. So, nearly a third of the bishops—fourteen of the total forty-nine—certainly a significant portion, although they comprise a minority of the whole episcopate. This stands in contrast to the traditional hypothesis that, in Latin Christendom, bishops were most likely the youngest sons of noble families but in concert with the rising “professionalism” of the episcopate in the twelfth century and the growth of the legally-trained sons of bourgeois families. Indeed, most of the bishops appointed to the episcopates of Castile during the reign of Alfonso VIII were not of the nobility, but were rather of that class of men described by Teo Ruiz as the “middling sorts.” The sons of merchants, caballeros villanos, wealthy townsmen, and farmers were more often clergy who had made names for themselves rather than inheriting them. Although we know some were educated, in many cases we do not know exactly

206 Kyle C. Lincoln which qualities specifically recommended them for high office. Celebruno of Toledo was from Poitou, and worked his way up through the ranks in Toledo before being elected to Sigüenza and eventually elevated to the see of Toledo. Similarly, Juan de Segovia was a burgher from a town near Agen, and was one of the many young clerics brought by Archbishop Bernard de Agen to fill the cathedral chapter of Toledo. Arderico di Palacio, bishop of Sigüenza before his transfer to Palencia, was of Milanese bourgeois extraction. Pedro Pérez of Burgos was the son of an Italian merchant, turned Burgalese resident. Although the son of Queen Leonor’s mayordomo, García de Contreras of Burgos appears to have been Andalusian and something of a novus homo. Martín López de Pisuerga was from Pisuerga, near Valladolid, but his family was not of noble rank, and he too appears to have worked his way up the ecclesiastical ladder. Julián ben Tauro, bishop of Cuenca, was Mozarabic, but his relatives do not appear to have been holders of significant royal fiefs. Julián’s successor García Ruiz of Cuenca was of very wealthy, but not noble, Mozarabic descent. Marino Mathé, Mateo Mathé, and Juan Mathé—all bishops of Burgos—were members of the prestigious and wealthy Mathé clan, who although not nobleborn were still of elite families in Burgos. The jurist Mauricio of Burgos was from a small village in the mountains above Burgos, but his position as a canon of Toledo in the early thirteenth century suggests that he must have been from a family of some means. The members of a local burgher clan called “Blázquez” who held positions as bishops of Ávila appear to have formed something of a dynasty amongst their number: Sancho Blázquez was a priest at the cathedral who witnessed a will ten years before his eventual election in 1160; Domingo II Blázquez was a deacon in 1181; Domingo III Blázquez was prior of the cathedral before his election as late as 1210. The absence of significant notations of clan names suggests that these prelates were of the bourgeoisie, men for whom family names were only in their infancy. Burghers, over time, controlled the lion’s share of the sees in Castile. Naturally, there are lacunae in the records, and so we simply cannot know much about the social class of some of the bishops of Castile during Alfonso’s reign. Gonzalo Pérez of Toledo was an archdeacon prior to his election, but his family origins are otherwise unknown. Brecio of Plasencia is a mysterious figure, about whom there exists far more speculation than fact. Brecio’s successor, Domingo, while present at Lateran IV, is little better known. In both cases, evidence is so lacking that it is unreasonable to guess. The brief tenure of Gonzalo as bishop of Sigüenza left only the attestation that he was from Atienza, but no mention of his parentage survives. The bishops of Osma, Juan, the simoniacally-deposed Bishop Bernardo, Miguel, the former abbot of San Pedro de Arlanza, and the short-lived Bishop García of Osma, formerly a prior, are all figures about whom almost nothing is known regarding their class, although their pre-episcopal offices are known and suggest varied class origins. Very little is known about Bishops Guillermo Gonzalo and Gerardo

A Prosopography of the Castilian Episcopate 207 of Segovia prior to their election. We do not know the origins of Domingo I, Juan II of Ávila, or his successor Yagüe, and the lack of any additional names preserved for them makes further identification of their social class impossible. The lack of data regarding many of these prelates is not a total loss, however, since while their native social status is unknowable, their pre-episcopal status is not. An overwhelming majority of the bishops of the kingdom of Castile during King Alfonso VIII’s reign came from the chapters of Castile’s cathedral churches. So significant is this number of prelates that, for convenience and clarity, I have subdivided them according to two categories: which office—if any specifically—they held in the chapters, and whether they came from the church to whose cathedra they were elected or from a different chapter (see the organizational table at the end of this chapter). In addition to sketching the ascendance of those chapter-member bishops, it seems prudent to note which bishops were elected from a monastic background. Since this later group of monks-turned-bishops is a far smaller number, I will tell their story first. We know that a few of the bishops of Castile had monastic origins. Gregorio Argaíz recorded that Martín Bazán was a monk at the Benedictine house of San Millán de la Cogolla before his election to Osma in 1188. Martín Bazán’s predecessor, Miguel, was the former abbot of San Pedro de Arlanza. Martín de Finojosa was the abbot of the Cistercian community of Santa María de Huerta. Pere de Cardona, before his brief time as the archbishop-elect of Toledo, was a legal scholar of some significance prior to becoming abbot of Husillos, and was also the royal chancellor of Castile from 1178–1182. That these four were the only bishops elected from a monastic background, and that three of them were abbots of powerful houses, suggests that the monarchy only sought the most competent monastic administrators and leaders, and even then was reluctant to call on monastic clergy for the episcopate. Among the Castilian episcopate, the vast majority were members of cathedral chapters and, of that number, most were deacons, many of them from the diocese over which they would serve as bishop (a convenient moment to recall that bishops were supposed to be communally elected rather than royally appointed). Every bishop of Cuenca in the period served as the deacon of Calatrava. Arderico of Sigüenza and Palencia appears as an archdeacon and episcopal mayordomo at Burgos as early as 1165. Celebruno of Sigüenza and Toledo had been an archdeacon at Toledo for at least sixteen years before his election to Sigüenza. Celebruno’s predecessor, Juan, appears to have served as an archdeacon in the chapter of Toledo. Juan Tellez of Osma was an archdeacon at Segovia before his election to Osma, and Gonzalo Pérez of Toledo was elected to the archiepiscopacy after having served as a deacon for nearly twenty-five years. From the same chapter, it appears that Guillermo, bishop of Segovia, was elected from the ranks of the deaconate of Toledo. From the bishops of Burgos, we know that only Mauricio, who was a canon and deacon of

208 Kyle C. Lincoln Toledo, and Garcia Martinez de Contreras, who appears to have been a favorite of Queen Leonor, were not deacons in Burgos at the time of their election to the see of Burgos; every other bishop of Burgos during Alfonso VIII’s reign was elected from the Burgalese chapter. Martín López de Pisuerga was an archdeacon in Palencia for nearly twenty years by the time of his election to the primatial see. Domingo I, Domingo II Blázquez, Juan II, and Yagüe of Ávila all served as archdeacons of Ávila prior to their elections. Even the royallyconnected Ramón II of Palencia appears to have served as an archdeacon of Palencia before his appointment. That bishops were elected from the ranks of the deaconate of their own cathedral chapters makes considerable sense: as members of the chapter they would have been familiar with the diocese, and as deacons they would have had considerable administrative expertise. Within the body of bishops elected from cathedral chapters, those who did not play a role as deacons nevertheless often held positions of leadership. At Osma, Bernardo and Diego of Osma were both priors of the chapter, and Diego’s successor Melendo was the sacristan and dean of the chapter at Burgos prior to his election to Osma. Julio González speculated that Bishop Brecio of Plasencia, whose origins are entirely unknown, had been the sacristan at Valladolid before his election, but his conjecture is supported only by Brecio the sacristan’s disappearance from the chapter after 1180 and the rarity of the name “Brecio” in contemporary Castilian or Leonese sources. Rodrigo of Sigüenza subscribes a charter of his uncle, Bishop Martín de Finojosa of Sigüenza, as prior of the cathedral in 1191. It appears probable that Pedro Instancio of Ávila was an archpriest of Ávila and also the treasurer of the chapter at Segovia, but the irregularity of this dual appointment and the fragmentary nature of the evidence make this speculative at best. Pedro’s successor, Domingo Blázquez, appears to have been the prior of the cathedral. The number of bishops who served in administrative roles is a significant point, because those appointed were qualified candidates rather than beneficiaries of any sort of court nepotism. Very few bishops are completely untraceable prior to their elections. We know little about Domingo of Plasencia prior to his election, although he appears at Lateran IV and we might suspect that the quick turnaround between his election and his appearance at Lateran IV would suggest that he was close to the Castilian ecclesiastical establishment. Likewise we can know little of Brecio and González’s speculation is just that. Gonzalo, bishop of Sigüenza, is no better known in his pre-episcopal position, although, as we noted previously, his hometown is. Joscelmo of Sigüenza appears to have served only as a canon in Segovia before his election. The positions of Gonzalo of Segovia are unknown prior to his election, while Gerardo of Segovia appears to have been only a canon. Tello Téllez de Meneses of Palencia, when he was elected to the see in 1208, was a canon of Segovia. Sancho Blázquez appears only as a priest in early documents from Ávila, but whether his position changed prior

A Prosopography of the Castilian Episcopate 209 to his election a decade later is not known. That so many bishops overall are traceable in their professional background betrays the nature of the sources: we know few family names, but many positions, and rarely are we left to wonder at the positions of prelates before their election to the episcopacy. Beyond their pre-episcopal qualifications, several of the bishops of Castile were also promoted from within the episcopate. Juan de Segovia, during Alfonso VIII’s minority, was promoted from Segovia to Toledo. Celebruno was also promoted from Segovia to succeed to Toledo after Juan’s death. Rodrigo Ximénez de Rada was promoted from Osma to Toledo. Arderico di Palacio was promoted from Sigüenza to Palencia. The importance of these transfers is that they suggest the importance of these prelates within the royal court, and that these individuals were therefore worthy and capable of handling greater responsibilities in Alfonso’s kingdom. Even if we extend the two categories—social class and pre-episcopal occupation—which have so far defined this study to include any sort of “national” or “ethnic” categories the evidence would be in the main unsurprising. A significant majority of the bishops of Castile were products of local families, and only a small handful of them were not. We know that Celebruno of Sigüenza and Toledo and Juan de Segovia of Toledo were from Francia. Arderico di Palacio of Palencia was a Lombard. Yet these three men appear to be anomalies. The three bishops of Cuenca during Alfonso VIII’s reign, although native Castilians, were of Mozarabic descent. The Burgalese bishops were mostly from the city itself or were descended from highly-placed royal familiares and were suitable choices to occupy the see of the old urbs regis. Only at Osma and Sigüenza, where the sees were positioned near to the borders with Navarre and the Crown of Aragon, were there any prelates from neighboring kingdoms, in the persons of Martín Bazán and Rodrigo Ximénez de Rada of Osma and Martín de Finojosa and Rodrigo of Sigüenza, and even then they do not appear to represent a significant majority. Most of the bishops of the realm, throughout Alfonso’s reign, were local men, who were elevated to the sees of cities in which they had significant connections and influence. Gone were the days of Alfonso VI’s Cluniac imports or the cosmopolitan prelates of the days of el Emperador. Comparing the backgrounds of clergy across kingdoms and regions in European Christendom, given the variety of factors that influenced contemporary societies, is challenging, but does reveal some data. In the diocese of Zamora, in the neighboring kingdom of León, a group of Frankish clerics held the episcopal throne for numerous episcopacies, in a fashion comparable to the Mathé clan’s dominance at Burgos and the Blázquez family in Ávila. The election of archdeacons to fill the sees of Castile’s clerics mirrors the promotions of the same position in the Latin East. A similar comparison can be made regarding the election of monks to the episcopate in the Latin East and in Castile, where Hamilton found two; I have found only a few more. In any event, the pattern

210 Kyle C. Lincoln that emerges from the study of the Castilian episcopate is that the environment of Alfonso VIII’s Castile preferred driven and administratively competent individuals: it preferred archdeacons to hermits, social climbers with ambition to aristocrats with agendas; when possible, a local record of service was a deal sweetener. That bishops were important functionaries in medieval kingdoms, and especially in Castile-León, hardly constitutes news, but perhaps more important is the collective picture. As a whole, a majority of the bishops of the kingdom of Castile during the reign of Alfonso VIII were from “middling” backgrounds; only fourteen of the forty-nine can be traced to noble families. Similarly, most bishops had been members of the cathedral chapters over which they were to have charge; few were elected from other chapters, and even fewer were from monastic backgrounds. Those who were elected from these alternative locales appear to have been royal favorites, as their later career paths suggest. The collective representation of bishops confirms that, demographically, Lomax was correct in asserting that the bishops at the beginning of Alfonso VIII’s reign were of a markedly different character than at the end of his reign. The evolution of both royal and papal expectations of clergy in the long twelfth century made them more likely to have been capable clerics, promoted from powerful and reputable chapters, rather than the scions of royal houses or especially capable monastic figures. Because of these changing expectations, as the evidence presented in this study has shown, it is clear that undue influence from the monarchy was not exerted, but that Alfonso VIII accepted and approved the appointment of clerics within his kingdom. Alfonso would not have also approved most of those appointments of clerics or added to their episcopal patrimonies without being presented with qualified candidates. Indeed, the partnership between the monarchy and the Castilian church that would be so important to Ferdinand III’s kingdom began during the reign of Ferdinand’s grandfather, Alfonso VIII. Table 1. Official and class backgrounds of the bishops during the reign of Alfonso VIII. Diocese Toledo

Name

Reign

Class Origin

Office Source

Juan de Segovia

1153-1166

Ar

Castellmorum B

Segovia

Celebruno

1166-1180

Bu

Poitou

Sigüenza

Pedro de Cardona 1180-1182

Ar

Aragon

Ab

Hussillos

Gonzalo Pérez

1182-1191

U

-

D

Toledo

Martin López de Pisuerga

1192-1208

Bu

Valladolid

D

Palencia

Rodrigo Ximénez 1208-1247 de Rada

Ar

Navarre

Bp

Osma

B

A Prosopography of the Castilian Episcopate 211 Burgos Pedro Pérez

1156-1181

Bu

Burgos

D

Burgos

Marino Mathé

1181-1200

Bu

Burgos

D

Burgos

Mateo Mathé

1200-1202

Bu

Burgos

DC

Burgos

Fernando González 1202-1205

Ar

Castile

D

Burgos

García Martínez de 1206-1211 Contreras

Bu

Castile

D

Burgos

Juan Mathé

1211-1212

Bu

Burgos

D

Burgos

Mauricio

1213-1238

Bu

Castile

D

Toledo

Ramón de Minerva 1148-1283

Ar

Aragon

D

Palencia

Arderico di Palacio 1184-1207

Bu

Milan

Bp

Sigüenza

Tello Téllez de Meneses

1208-1246

Ar

Castile

Ca

Segovia

Juan Téllez

1149-1274

U

-

D

Segovia

Bernardo

1174-1176

U

-

Pr

Osma

Miguel

1177-1185

U

-

Ab

San Pedro de Arlanza

García

1186-1188

U

-

D

Osma (Soria)

Martín Bazán

1188-1201

Ar

Navarre

M

San Millán de la Cogolla

Diego de Acebes

Palencia

Osma

1201-1207

Ar

Toledo

Pr

Osma

Rodrigo Ximénez 1208-1210 de Rada

Ar

Navarre

Cl

Navarra

Melendo

1210-1225

Ar

Asturias Portugual

DC

Burgos

Guillermo

1158-1170

U

-

D

Toledo

Gonzalo

1177-1194

U

-

-

-

Gutiérrez Girón

1195

Ar

Segovia

D

Segovia

Segovia

Gonzalo Miguel

1196-1211

Ar

Moratilla

-

-

Gerardo

1211-1224

U

-

-

-

212 Kyle C. Lincoln Sigüenza Celebruno

1156-1166

Bu

Poitou

D

Toledo

Joscelmo

1168-1178

Ar

Moratilla

Ca

Segovia

Arderico di Palacio 1178-1184

Bu

Milan

D

Burgos

Gonzalo (I)

1184

U

Atienza

-

-

St. Martín de Finojosa

1186-1192

Ar

Finojosa

Ab

Huerta

Rodrigo

1192-1221

Ar

Finojosa

Pr

Sigüenza

Sancho Blasquez

1160-1181

Bu

Ávila

Prb

Ávila

Domingo I

1182-1187

U

-

D

Ávila

Domingo II Blasquez

1187-1190

Bu

Ávila

D

Ávila

Juan II

1191-1195

U

-

D

Ávila

Yagüe

1195-1203

U

-

D

Avila

Pedro Instancio

1205-1212

Bu

Ávila

Tr

Segovia

Domingo III Blasquez

1213-1227

Bu

Ávila

Pr

Ávila

Juan Yáñez

1178/11831195

Ar

Toledo

D

Calatrava

St. Julián ben Tauro 1196-1208

Bu

Toledo

D

Calatrava

García Ruiz

1208-1225

Bu

Toledo

D

Calatrava

Brecio

1190-1212

U

-

S

Valladolid

Domingo

1212-1232

U

-

Ab

Valladolid

Ávila

Cuenca

Plasencia

Ab = Abbot Ar = Aristocrat Bp = Bishop Bu = Burgher Ca = Canon Cl = Cleric D= Dean DC = Deacon M = Monk Pb = Presbiter Pr = Prior S = Sacristan T = Treasurer U = Unknown Table 1. Official and class backgrounds of the bishops during the reign of Alfonso VIII.

Notes 1. Bernard F. Reilly, The Kingdom of León-Castilla under King Alfonso VII, 1126–1157 (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1998), 267. 2. Carlos de Ayala Martínez, “Los obispos de Alfonso VIII,” in Carreiras Eclesiásticas no Ocidente Cristão (séc. XII–XIV), ed. Ana Maria Jorge, Hermínia Vilar, and Maria João Branco (Lisbon: Universidade Católica Portuguesa, 2007), 153–86. They were also key components of the discourse of power for Alfonso VIII: idem, “Alfonso VIII y la Iglesia de su reino,” in 1212, un año, un reinado, un tiempo de despegue, ed. Esther

A Prosopography of the Castilian Episcopate 213 López Ojeda, XXIII Semana de Estudios Medievales (Logroño: Instituto de Estudios Riojanos, 2013), 237–96. 3. Plasencia’s archives preserve no documentation before 1218. It seems likely that this was one of the results of Almohad raiding, as both the Anales Toledanos and modern scholarship attest: Ascensio de Morales y Tercero, “Inventario general de los privilegios, bulas e instrumentos separadas enlos archivos de la ciudad de Plasencia,” in Historias Placentinas Inéditas, ed. Domingo Sanchez Loro (Cáceres: Institución Cultural “El Brocense” de la Excma. Diputación Provincial de Cáceres, 1983), 258; AT, 161; Francisco García Fitz, Castilla y León frente al Islam: estrategias de expansión y tácticas militares (siglos XI–XIII) (Seville: Universidad de Sevilla, 1998), 448–49. 4. It is entirely curious that the only extant cartulary in Sigüenza was that which dated to c. 1212, during the reign of bishop Rodrigo. There must have been many more privileges, as a cursory glance of the early twentieth-century historian/antiquarian Minguella y Arnedo’s “apéndice documental” would seem to indicate. Carlos Saez, “Orden, conservación y ostentación: el cartulario de la catedral de Sigüenza (c.1212),” Anuario de estudios medievales 36 (2006): 171–99; Toribio Minguella y Arnedo, Historia de la diócesis de Sigüenza y de sus obispos, 3 vols. (Madrid: Imprenta de la “Revista de Archivos, Bibliotecas y Museos,” 1910–13), 1:347–650. The bombing of Sigüenza has nevertheless left considerable archival documentation intact. The sheer number of books of sermons (AC Sig., Mss. 18, 20, 37–39 & 88) and canon law (AC Sig., Mss. 19, 20, 24, 55, 61 & 75) echo the prolific earlier holdings. A pre-war inventory, dating to 1929, was annotated somewhat, but could use a more systematic expansion: José Ruis Serra, “Inventario de los manuscritos de la Catedral de Sigüenza,” Hispania Sacra 3 (1950): 446–65. 5. Derek W. Lomax, “Don Ramón, Bishop of Palencia, (1148–84),” in Homenaje a Jaime Vicens Vives, ed. Juan Maluquer de Motes y Nicolau, 2 vols. (Barcelona: Facultad de Filosofia y Letras, 1965–7), 1:280–91. 6. This appellation, as “karisimo avunculo meo” and “dilecto avunculo meo,” appears in numerous royal charters, from both Alfonso VIII and Ferdinand II of Leon, which addressed the bishop of Palencia. For example, see Teresa Abajo Martín, ed., Documentación de la Catedral de Palencia (1035–1247), Fuentes Medievales CastellanoLeonesas (Palencia: Grafícas Cervantes, 1986), 132–34, no. 63; 162–63, no. 82. 7. Bernard F. Reilly, “Alfonso VIII, the Castilian Episcopate, and the Accession of Rodrigo Jiménez de Rada as the Archbishop of Toledo in 1210,” Catholic Historical Review 94 (2013): 438–40. 8. Minguella, Sigüenza, 1:143–72; González, Alfonso VIII, 1:420–21. 9. Minguella, Sigüenza, 1:173–98. 10. Ayala Martínez, “Los obispos de Alfonso VIII,” 159, n. 26; González, Alfonso VIII, 1:432–33; Luciano Serrano, El obispado de Burgos y Castilla primitiva desde el siglo v al xiii (Madrid: Instituto de Valencia de Don Juan, 1935), 2:171–72. 11. The name of Baztán shows up in a list of linajes de ricos hombres for the kingdom of Navarre: Eloisa Ramírez Vaquero, “La nobleza bajomedieval Navarra: Pautas de comportamiento y actitudes políticas,” in La nobleza peninsular en la Edad Media, ed. Juan Ignacio Ruiz de la Peña Solar and Cesar Álvarez Álvarez (Ávila: Fundación Sánchez Albornoz, 1999), 303–4. Diego de Acebes’s family origins were traced by Lopperaez to Villaseca, outside Toledo, and his sister married a nobleman called Blasco de

214 Kyle C. Lincoln Barnuevo, which suggests that Diego’s family was of considerable status. Juan Loperráez Corvalán, Descripción histórica del obispado de Osma, 3 vols. (Madrid: Imprenta Real, repr. Turner Reprints, 1778, repr. 1978), 1:187. González confirmed the location of Diego’s family, but not the identity of his family or that of his sister’s husband, which would at least allow some sense of his social class: González, Alfonso VIII, 1:428. 12. Juan Francisco Rivera Recio, La Iglesia de Toledo en el siglo XII (1086–1208), 2 vols. (Roma: Iglesia nacional española, 1966-76), 1:200–202; González, Alfonso VIII, 1:416–17; 2:496–678, nos. 303–91; Antonio García y García, Derecho común en España: los juristas y sus obras (Murcia: Universidad de Murcia, 1991), 67; idem, Iglesia, sociedad y derecho (Salamanca: Universidad Pontificia de Salamanca, 1985), 1:70; David Marcos Díez, La Abadía de Santa María de Husillos: estudio y colección documental (904–1608) (Palencia: Diputación de Palencia, 2011), 35–38, 310–17. 13. Tello Téllez de Meneses’ ancestry is beyond question, and his father was a powerful landowner within Alfonso VIII’s inner circle: Severino Rodríguez Salcedo, “Memorias de don Tello Tellez de Meneses, obispo de Palencia,” Publicacones de la Institución Tello Téllez de Meneses 1 (1949): 13–36; Modesto Salcedo Tapia, “Vida de don Tello Téllez de Meneses, obispo de Palencia,” Publicaciones de la Institución Tello Téllez de Meneses 53 (1985): 87–246. 14. Colmenares provides the specific identification of Gutierre’s parents as “conde don Rodrigo González Girón y de doña Mayor Núñez de Lara, su mujer” and those of Gonzalo Miguel as “Gutierre Miguel y doña Enderaso, segovianos ya nombrados en muchas ocasiones de esta historia.” González did not differ with this attribution: González, Alfonso VIII, 1:425–27; Diego de Colmenares, Historia de la insigne ciudad de Segovia y compendio de las historias de Castilla (Segovia: Imprenta Real, 1637), 181–83. 15. Even the otherwise well-researched dissertation of Jorge Díaz Ibáñez lacks any citations on the matter of Juan Yáñez’s parentage, saying only that he “pertenecía a una ilustre familia de mozárabes, siendo quizá biznieto del conde Peranzures, aunque sobre esto último no existe certeza absoluta. Tanto su padre como su tío habían intervenido junto a Alfonso VIII en la toma de Cuenca.” Jorge Díaz Ibañez, “La iglesia de Cuenca en la Edad Media (Siglos XII–XV): Estructura y relaciones de poder” (PhD diss., Universidad Complutense de Madrid, 2002), 117. [“He belonged to an illustrious family of mozarabs, perhaps a nephew or second cousin of the count of Peranzures, though we cannot be certain about this relationship. Both his father and uncle had assisted Alfonso VIII in the conquest of Cuenca”]. 16. Loperráez, Osma, 1:208. Julio González concurred with Loperraez and Mendez de Silva’s conjectures, which was satisfactory evidence even to the editors of a recent Spanish reference series: González, Alfonso VIII, 1:429; Gonzalo Martínez Díez, “Obispos medievales de la era románica: 1082–1214,” in Historia de las Diócesis Españolas: Iglesias de Burgos, Osma-Soria y Santander, ed. Bernabé Bartolomé Martínez (Madrid: Biblioteca de Autores Cristianos, 2002), 479. Ayala Martínez was comfortable enough with this assertion to repeat it, in “Los obispos de Alfonso VIII,” 161–62. Melendo has long, and rightly, been held to have been a famous jurist and canonist: García y García, Derecho común en España: los juristas y sus obras, 59; idem, Iglesia, sociedad y derecho, 51. The Portuguese line has been taken by both Branco and Linehan: Maria Joâo Branco, “Portuguese ecclesiastics and Portguse affairs near the Spanish cardinals in the Roman curia (1213–1254), in Carreiras Eclesiásticas no Ocidente Cristão (séc. XII–XIV),

A Prosopography of the Castilian Episcopate 215 ed. Ana Maria Jorge, Hermínia Vilar, and Maria João Branco (Lisbon: Universidade Católica Portuguesa, 2007), 91–93; Peter Linehan, “Calumpna firmissima: D. Gil Torres, the Cardinal of Zamora,” in Cross, Crescent and Conversion: Studies on Medieval Spain and Christendom in Memory of Richard Fletcher, ed. Simon Barton and Peter Linehan (Leiden: Brill, 2008), 247–49. 17. Pedro Miguel, Joscelmo’s father, had been granted land by Alfonso VIII, which the bishop’s brother later inherited: Minguella y Arnedo, Sigüenza, 1:115–28; González, Alfonso VIII, 1:418–19. 18. James A. Brundage, The Medieval Origins of the Legal Profession: Canonists, Civilians, and Courts (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2008), 75–80; Thomas N. Bisson, The Crisis of the Twelfth Century: Power, Lordship and the Origins of European Government (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2009), 456–69. 19. Teofilo F. Ruiz, From Heaven to Earth: the Reordering of Castilian Society, 1150–1350 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2004), 3–5. 20. For more on those bishops who we know were well-educated, see below. The only broad study of masters at the cathedrals in Castile to my knowledge is that of Iglesias Ferreiros, which contains several gaps and is in need of an update and revision: Aqulino Iglesias Ferreirós, “Escuela, estudio y maestros,” Historia, Instituciones, Documentos 25 (1998): 313–26. The importance of these diocesan schools, whose masters appear to have been those listed by Iglesia Ferreirós, has been studied by Susana Guijarro González, “Vida religiosa de las canónicas hispanas en el siglo xii,” in Entre el claustro y el mundo: canónigos regulares y monjes premonstratenses el la Edad Media, ed. José Angel García de Cortázar y Ruiz de Aguirre and Ramón Teja (Aguilar de Campóo: Fundación Santa María la Real, 2009), 63–88; eadem, “Las escuelas catedralicias castellanas y su aportación a la historia del pensamiento medieval (1200–1500),” in Pensamiento medieval hispano: homenaje a Horacio Santiago-Otero, ed. José María Soto Rábanos (Madrid: CSIC, 1998), 1:703–36; eadem, “Las escuelas y la formación del clero de las catedrales en las diócesis castellano-leonesas (siglos xi al xv),” in La enseñanza en la edad media: X Semana de Estudios Medievales, Nájera 1999, ed. José Ignacio de la Iglesia Duarte (Logroño: Instituto de Estudios Riojanos, 2000), 61–95; eadem, “Estudiantes, universidades y cabildos catedralicios en las diócesis castellanas durante la baja edad media,” Edades: revista de historia 4 (1998): 39–55. Palencia in particular was a significant source of education in its day: María Jesús Fuente, El Estudio General de Palencia: La primera univesidad hispana (Palencia: Ediciones Cálamo, 2012), 99–162; Adeline Rucquoi, “Éducation et société dans la Péninsule ibérique médiévale,” Histoire de l’Éducation 69 (1996): 3–36; eadem, “Las Rutas del Saber: España en el siglo XII,” Cuadernos de Historia de España 75 (1998–99): 41–58; eadem, “La double vie de l’université de Palencia (c.1180–c.1250),” Studia Gratiana 29 (1998): 723–48; eadem, “Contribution des studia generalia à la pensée hispanique médiévale,” in Pensamiento hispano medieval. Homenaje a D. Horacio Santiago-Otero, ed. José María Soto Rábanos (Madrid: CSIC, 1998), 737–70. The presence of several major jurists among the Castilian episcopate’s ranking attests to the educated quality of many of the Castilian bishops, see infra, n. 24, and n. 30. 21. Rivera Recio and Mingulla y Arnedo were convinced that Celebruno was of Poitevin descent and of middling origins: Rivera Recio, La Iglesia de Toledo, 1: 199–200; Minguella y Arnedo, Sigüenza, 1:119–21. Celebruno appeared at Toledo as an archdeacon as early as 1147, and appears to have ventured with earlier clerics to the Toledo

216 Kyle C. Lincoln of Alfonso VII’s cosmopolitan court: Francisco J. Hernández, ed. Los cartularios de Toledo: catalogo documental, Monumenta Ecclesiae Toletanae Historica (Madrid: Fundación Ramon Areces, 1985), 63–106, nos. 60–106. 22. Bonifacio Bartolomé Herrero, “Obispos extranjeros al frente de la diócesis de Segovia (1120–1742),” Estudios segovianos 105 (2005): 23. Bernardo himself was previously bishop of Sigüenza before his elevation to Toledo: Minguella, Sigüenza, 1:57–58. 23. On the background of Arderico di Palacio, see: Domenico Maffei, “Fra Cremona, Montpellier e Palencia nel secolo XII ricerche su Ugolina da Sesso,” Revista española de derecho canonico 47 (1990): 42, n. 30. The speculaton of Minguella y Arnedo (Minguella, Sigüenza, 1:128–30), that Arderico was potentially a scholar at Úcles has been rejected, but the identification of potential Lombard extraction was confirmed by Maffei. 24. Pedro Pérez is usually held to be of Lombard-emigrant extraction, although documentation of his family has yet to be found in Burgos. Serrano was convinced that Pedro Pérez was born in Burgos: Serrano, El obispado de Burgos, 2:60–61. This does not seem entirely unlikely, however, given that Arderico was likely Milanese, a connection between Burgos and Lombardy is not out of the question. It may well be that Arderico and Pedro Pérez’s father were part of a larger trend of Lombards moving into old Castile. 25. Ayala Martínez, “Los obispos de Alfonso VIII,” 159; González, Alfonso VIII, 1:433–34; Serrano, El obispado de Burgos, 2:177–78. 26. Carlos de Ayala Martínez has recently sketched the career of Martín López de Pisuerga with an eye toward tracking his work “en tiempos de cruzada,” and Rivera Recio’s treament is still the standard reference. See Ayala Martínez, “Breve semblanza de un arzobispo de Toledo en tiempos de cruzada: Martín López de Pisuerga,” in Mundos Medievales: Espacios, sociedades y poder. Homenaje al Profesor José Ángel García de Cortázar y Ruiz de Aguirre, ed. Beatriz Arízaga Bolumburu (Santander: Universidada de Cantabria, 2012), 356; Rivera Recio, La Iglesia de Toledo, 1:202–3. 27. Díaz Ibañez, “La iglesia de Cuenca en la Edad Media,” 119–20. 28. Díaz Ibañez notes that: “Al igual que sus antecesores, procedía de una familia de mozárabes toledanos, siendo hijo de Rodrigo Ruiz y nieto de Gonzalo Ruiz. Esta familia de los Ruiz formaba uno de los más importantes linajes mozárabes en razón de su gran riqueza.” Ibid., 124. 29. In addition to the appearance of Bishop Marino Mathé, Bishop Mateo Mathé, and Bishop Juan Mathé, an elder Juan Mathé and a Pedro Mathé appear as canons in the documents of the chapter. Documentación. . . . Burgos, 1:289–90, no. 179 (Marino); 2:20–22, nos. 253–54 (Juan the Younger); 1:280–81, no.174 (Juan the Elder); 1:256–57, no.157 (Pedro). 30. His position as a canon of Toledo is well-attested, as are his credentials as a “magister” there. Hernández, Los cartularios de Toledo, 275–308, nos. 298–341; Ayala Martínez, “Los obispos de Alfonso VIII,” 159; Luciano Serrano, D. Mauricio, obispo de Burgos y fundador de su catedral (Madrid: Instituto de Valencia de Don Juan1922), 20. 31. José Tello Martínez, ed., Cathálogo sagrado de los obispos que han regido la santa Yglesia de Ábila, desde el primero que fue san Segundo, mártyr clarísimo con notas varias (Ávila: Ediciones de lnstitución “Gran Duque de Alba” de la Excma. Diputación Provincial de Ávila, 2001), 149. Ángel Barrios García, ed. Documentos de la Catedral

A Prosopography of the Castilian Episcopate 217 de Ávila (Siglos XII–XIII) (Ávila: Imcodávila, 2004), 35–36, no. 9; 51–52, no. 20; 94–96, no.51. 32. Ruiz, From Heaven to Earth, 87–109. 33. Rivera Recio, La Iglesia de Toledo, 1:202. 34. F. González Cuesta, “Sobre el episcopologio de Plasencia,” Hispania Sacra 95 (1995): 358–59. 35. Ibid., 359; Juan Francisco Rivera Recio, “Personajes Hispanos asistentes en 1215 al IV Concilio de Letran (revisión y aportación nueva de documentos. Datos biográficos.),” Hispania Sacra 4 (1951): 335–55. 36. Morales y Tercero, “Inventario general de los privilegios, bulas e instrumentos separadas en los archivos de la ciudad de Plasencia,” 251–94. 37. Minguella, Sigüenza, 1:140–41. 38. Juan, Bernardo, and García were allegedly canons in some capacity before their election; only Miguel was of monastic vocation. It seems likely, if unprovable, that the three canons were of bourgeois origins and the monastically-derived bishop was of some aristocratic background. Loperráez, Osma, 1:123–72. 39. Neither Colmenares nor modern editions of the cathedral documents of Segovia preserve notations of Guillermo or Gonzalo’s position or background, both of which might provide at least some data regarding the prelates: Luis-Miguel Villar Garcia, ed., Documentación medieval de la catedral de Segovia (1115–1300) (Salamanca: Ediciones Universidad de Salamanca y Ediciones Universidad de Deusto, 1990), 74–125, nos. 28–74; Colmenares, Historia de la insigne ciudad de Segovia, 140–54. Argaíz cited a document from 1133 that bore a subscription from a “Guillelmus monachus,” but the document antedates the beginning of Guillermo’s episcopate by more than two decades and the influx of Frankish monastic figures in the first third of the twelfth century is too great to support a connection: Gregorio de Argaiz, Gabriel de León, and Bernardo de Hervada, La soledad laureada por San Benito y sus hijos en las Iglesias de España y Teatro monastico de la provincia Cartaginense (Madrid: por Bernardo de Herbada, 1675), 307. 40. Barrios García, Documentos de la catedral de Ávila. 41. Argaiz, La soledad laureada, 295. 42. Loperráez, Osma, 1:161–62. The reign of a certain Miguel as abbot of Arlanza for forty-eight years, as Zaragoza Pascual surveyed seems unlikely. Far more likely is that there were two men with the very common name of Miguel, one of whom, after a long reign as abbot, was named bishop and served at Osma for two years, rather than a fortyeight-year reign: Ernesto Zaragoza Pascual, “Abadologio del monasterio de San Pedro de Arlanza (siglos x–xix),” Boletín de la Institución Fernán González 210 (1995): 90. 43. Minguella y Arnedo, Sigüenza, 1:162; Maria Agustin Romero, “Hacia una biografia cientifica de San Martin de Finojosa,” Celtiberia 23, no. 1 (1962): 93–115; Maria Ignacio Astorga, “San Martín de Finojosa, la gran figura histórica del Real Monasterio de Santa María de Huerta,” Cistercium 14 (1962): 229–36. 44. Rivera Recio, La Iglesia de Toledo, 1:200–2; González, Alfonso VIII, 1:416–17; 2:496–678, nos. 303–91; García y García, Derecho común en España, 67; idem, Iglesia, sociedad y derecho, 1:70; Marcos Díez, La Abadía de Santa María de Husillos: estudio y colección documental (904–1608), 35–38, 310–17. 45. On the complicated interplay between Spanish monarchs and their bishops in previous eras, see Bernard F. Reilly, “The Court Bishops of Alfonso VII of Leon-Castile,

218 Kyle C. Lincoln 1147–1157,” Mediaeval Studies 36 (1974): 372; idem, The Kingdom of León-Castilla under Queen Urraca, 1109–1126 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1982), 225–50; idem, “On getting to be a bishop in Leon-Castile: the “Emperor” Alfonso VII and the postGregorian Church,” Studies in Mediaeval and Renaissance History 1 (1978): 36. 46. Díaz Ibañez, “La iglesia de Cuenca,” 116–26. 47. Documentación . . . Burgos, 1:247, no.149; 1:271–72, no. 168; 1:273–74, no. 169; 1:298–99, no. 186. 48. Rivera Recio, La Iglesia de Toledo, 1:199; Hernández, Los cartularios de Toledo, 63–100. 49. Bartolomé Herrero, “Obispos extranjeros al frente de la Diócesis de Segovia (1120–1742),” 28. 50. Loperráez, Osma, 1:127; Hernández, Los cartularios de Toledo, 136, no. 144; 155–56, no. 161; 177–78, no. 185; 180, no. 188; 186–87, no. 197; 187–88, no. 198. 51. It seems unlikely that the same Guillermo who subscribed three documents at Toledo in 1155 was the same, as Hernandez believed for his índice onomástico, as the Guillermo who subscribed a single document in 1170. It seems far more likely that the three documents subscribed in 1155 were witnessed by the later bishop of Segovia, and the latter was subscribed by the Guillermo who served as prior in the 1170’s. Los cartularios de Toledo, 101–2, no. 103; 104–6, no. 106; 108–11, no. 109; 147–48, no. 155; 162, no. 167; 167–68, no. 174; 172, no. 178; 173–74, no. 180; 675–76. 52. Pedro Pérez was an archdeacon in 1155, but was certainly in the chapter before that date: Documentación . . . Burgos, 1:237–39, no.142. Marino Mathé was an archdeacon from 1170 until his election in 1181: ibid., 289–90, no.179. Mateo appears as early as 1189: ibid, 2:64–66, no. 286. Fernando González appears as a scribe as early as 1200: ibid, 2:139–40, no. 349. García Martínez de Contreras was the son of the Queen’s majordomo, and was not a member of the chapter at the time of his election: Ayala Martínez, “Los obispos de Alfonso VIII,” 159. Mauricio was an archdeacon at Toledo since at least 1208, but probably earlier: Documentación . . . Burgos, 2:268–69, no. 457; Hernández, Los cartularios de Toledo, 275–76, no. 298; 289–90, no. 317; 290–91, no. 318; 293–94, no. 323; 294–95, no. 324; 300–301, no. 332; 301–2, no. 334; 302, no. 335; 307–8, no. 341. 53. Martín appears as an archdeacon as early as 1173 and continues to appear regularly until the early 1190s, when his election to Toledo prohibited his further involvement with Palencia. Ayala Martínez, “Breve semblanza de un arzobispo de Toledo,” 356; Abajo Martín, ed., Documentación . . . Palencia, 148–223, nos. 73–109. 54. Barrios García, Documentos . . . Ávila, 43–44, no. 16; 51–52, no. 20; 78–80, no. 39; 88, no. 44. 55. Abajo Martín, Documentación . . . Palencia, 95–97, no. 43. 56. On the role of deacons in Iberian cathedral chapters in Iberia in the period: Paul Freedman, The Diocese of Vic: Tradition and Regeneration in Medieval Catalonia (Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1983), 22; Juan Francisco Rivera Recio, La Iglesia de Toledo en el siglo XII, 2:34–49. 57. Bernardo appears as a prior in none of the extant documents, but Loperráez asserts that this was his position: Loperráez, Osma, 1:146–61; Timoteo Riaño and María del Carmen Gutiérrez, “Documentos de los siglos XII y XIII del archivo de la Catedral de Burgo de Osma,” Archivo de filología aragonesa 18/19 (1976): 228–32, no. vii–viii. Diego appears as prior in 1199, during the reign of Martín Bázan, but his elevation to that

A Prosopography of the Castilian Episcopate 219 position seems connected to Martín’s reform of the chapter c. 1195–1199, since he does not appear in any capacity before 1199: Riaño and del Carmen Gutiérrez, “Documentos de los siglos XII y XIII del archivo de la Catedral de Burgo de Osma,” 236–37, no. 10. The good sense of having a jurist like Melendo serve as sacristan, and therefore chief financial deputy under the bishop, was sounder logic then than now. On Melendo’s roles as archdeacon, sacristan, and prior before to his election: Documentación . . . Burgos 2:18–20, no. 252; 2:22–23, no. 255; 2:64–66, no. 286; 2:109–11, no. 321; 2:139–40, no. 349; 2:190–91, no. 395; 2:206–7, no. 410; 2:215–16, no. 418; 2:219, no. 421; 2:234–35, no. 430; 2:269–70, no. 458; 2:284–85, no. 471. Loperráez’s assessment is contrary to the observations of García y García and the evidence, therefore is untenable: Loperráez, Osma, 1:59–60; García y García, Derecho común en España, 51. 58. González, Alfonso VIII, 1:471–72. 59. Minguella, Sigüenza,1:473–74. 60. Barrios García, Documentos. . . . Ávila, 88, no. 44. 61. Ibid., 94–96, no. 51. 62. González Cuesta, “Sobre el episcopologio de Plasencia,” 358–59. 63. See my note 34. 64. See my note 37. 65. Joscelmo’s family had a long connection to Segovia, as Minguella y Arnedo noted, and one of his kinsmen appears to have spelled his first name with a “G” instead of with a “J.” In 1161, six-and-a-half years before Joselmo’s election to Sigüenza, a “G., Secobiensis canonicus” confirms a compromise between the bishop of Segovia and the inhabitants of a nearby village. That Joscelmo, soon after his election, gave a house to the chapter of Segovia which he held next to that of the bishop of Segovia, Guillermo, suggests that he was relinquishing property in Segovia as he transitioned to his new employment: Villar Garcia, Documentación . . . Segovia, 108–9, no. 61; Minguella y Arnedo, Sigüenza, 1:117–18, 424–25. 66. Colmenares provides no notation of Guillermo or Gonzalo’s positions, and the cathedral records do not preserve any evidence for the positions of either man prior to their elections in 1157 and 1176: Villar Garcia, Documentación . . . Segovia, 91–105, no. 41–57; 116–23, no. 69–73; Colmenares, Historia de la insigne ciudad de Segovia, 140–52. Gerardo appears in a document dating to 1204, but no position is listed: Villar Garcia, Documentación . . . Segovia, 156–57, no. 98. 67. Rodríguez Salcedo, “Memorias de don Tello Tellez de Meneses,” 16–18; Modesto Salcedo, “Vida de don Tello Téllez de Meneses, obispo de Palencia,” Publicacones de la Institución Tello Téllez de Meneses 53 (1985): 122–26; Villar Garcia, Documentación . . . Segovia, 156–57, no. 98. 68. Barrios García, Documentos . . . Ávila, 35–36, no. 9. 69. Rivera Recio, La Iglesia de Toledo, 1:198–99. 70. Ibid., 1:199–200. 71. Reilly, “Alfonso VIII, the Castilian Episcopate,” 443–46. 72. Minguella, Sigüenza,1:135–36. 73. Reilly’s observations to this effect—see my note 45—are still quite informative. 74. Fletcher, Episcopate in the Kingdom of León, 44. 75. Bernard Hamilton, Latin Church in the Crusader States: The Secular Church (London: Variorum, 1980), 116–17. 76. Ibid, 122–23.

220 Kyle C. Lincoln 77. To this effect, Lomax noted regarding Ramón II de Minerva: “Ramón, in short, had become something of an anachronism. Born in the days of Diego Gelmirez and Bernard de Sedirac, his royal birth and Cluniac training destined him for a brilliant career in the Peninsular church, and prepared him adequately for the political and diplomatic activities of his middle years; but in his diocese, scene as it was of several minor wars, he was less successful. He recruited able men, and, no doubt under their stimulus, improved techniques were introduced into his diocesan administration; but basic changes such as the Reform movement was producing in other countries had to wait in Palencia for the end of the century.” Lomax, “Don Ramón, Bishop of Palencia,” 1:291.

Chapter eleven Via impugnandi in the Age of Alfonso VIII: Iberian-Christian Kalm and a Latin Triad Revisited Thomas Burman

O

n June 1, 1213, the year before Alfonso VIII died, Mark of Toledo, a canon of that city and accomplished Arabist, composed a preface for his Latin versions of a handful of short texts by Ibn Tūmart, founder and Mahdī of the Almohad movement. Stressing (quite rightly) that Ibn Tūmart’s religious thought had a strongly rationalist quality—he “well achieves his goal of proving . . . that God is one, the first and the last”—and suggesting (quite wrongly) that he was thus not truly a Muslim, but a philosopher who “believed in no religion (lex),” Mark urged his Christian readers to embrace Ibn Tūmart’s writings as combat exercises (exercitamenta) for the intellectual struggle against Islam. For indeed “among discerning and prudent Muslims” the Mahdī’s words are more influential, Mark claims, “than the words, mixed up and very confused and uttered without any foundation, of Muhammad in the Qur’an.” If Christian intellectuals will take the time, therefore, to master his thought they will find that an effective way of combat—a via impugnandi—will open in front of them. Mark’s short preface is utterly lacking in the details of what this “way of combat” might look like, but what he was recommending was, in fact, an approach to Christian apologia with a long history by Alfonso VIII’s reign. The most important of the works that Mark had translated was Ibn Tūmart’s ʿAqīdah or “Creed,” a summary of Muslim theology or kalām. At just ten pages long in a modern printed edition, this work is one of many brief creeds written in the medieval Islamic world—al-Ghazālī’s al-Risālat al-Qudsīyah, for example, at just fifteen pages long, is of similar length. What Mark was recommending, therefore, was that Christians could use the language and tools of Muslim theology to argue for Christian belief, and this was something that, beginning as early as the ninth century, Arabic-speaking Christians in the Middle East had done with considerable verve, creating a whole tradition of Christian kalām that scholars such as Sidney Griffith and Khalil Samir Khalil have explored intensively over the last thirty years. That such an approach to Islam had entered into the awareness of both Mark of Toledo and his patron for this project, Archdeacon Mauricio, suggests that, despite the striking mischaracterization of Ibn Tūmart as religion-less, Latin 221

222 Thomas Burman thinkers in the early thirteenth century not only understood a great deal about the regnant intellectual tradition of al-Andalus, but may well have been familiar with works of Christian kalām that were circulating in medieval Iberia in this period. We know for certain of one example. While not primarily kalāmic in its argumentation, the Apology of al-Kindī contained an argument for the Trinity that was widely used in Christian kalām, and that work had been translated into Latin in Castile just seventy years previously. This awareness of the Christian usefulness of kalām also suggests some level of interpenetration between Latin-Christian and Arab-Christian intellectual circles in Toledo— who better to bring such argumentative possibilities to the attention of a Latin churchman such as Mauricio, or even a translator of Arabic medical texts such as Mark of Toledo, than Arabic-speaking Christian scholars who were in fact practicing Christian kalām? It has been twenty years since I argued that not only were there such practitioners of Christian kalām in the lifetime of Alfonso VIII—and most likely in Toledo—but that their works were, moreover, the fruit of such interaction between the Latin-Christian and Arab-Christian intellectual traditions. The rationalist arguments for the Trinity advanced in two Arabic works that survive only fragmentarily, I contended, both continued a long tradition of Middle-Eastern Trinitarian argumentation rooted in kalām, and incorporated at the same time emerging Latin-Christian Trinitarian theology devised by Peter Abelard and Hugh of St. Victor. As such they were evidence of an intellectually vital ArabChristian community that was actively cultivating Arab-Christian and LatinChristian thought in the twelfth century. In the decades since I proposed this interpretation not only have a few readers expressed real qualms about it, but important scholarly work has appeared on a handful of issues surrounding these texts and their Trinitarian arguments. The pages that follow, therefore, are my reconsideration of those conclusions in light of these criticisms and relevant new findings. That the via impugnandi advanced by these tracts incorporated both Arab-Christian and Latin-Christian elements I still consider by far the best interpretation of the fragmentary and muddy evidence. But foundational research by Samir Kaddouri that bears directly on the dating of these works suggests that at least one of them emerged from precisely the place and time in which Mark of Toledo translated Ibn Tūmart—Toledo near the end of Alfonso VIII’s reign.

Tathlth al-Wah.dnyah and Its Trinitarian Argument Two works, both in Arabic, offer evidence of this hybrid via impugnandi. The longer of the two traveled under the title Tathlīth al-wah.dānīyah or Trinitizing the Unity [of the Godhead]. It only survives in fragments quoted by a Muslim scholar, Ah.mad ibn ʿUmar al-Qurt.ubī (d. 1258), who specifies that “some of those who embrace the religion of the Christian sect wrote it, called it Tathlīth al-wah.dānīyah . . . and sent it from Toledo . . . to the city of Cordoba . . . attack-

Via impugnandi in the Age of Alfonso VIII 223 ing in it the religion of the Muslims.” The surviving fragments of Tathlīth al-wah.dānīyah appear in that Mālikī jurist and traditionist’s lengthy refutation of it, apparently written at the behest of other learned Muslims of Cordoba, and entitled Information about the Corruptions and Delusions of the Religion of the Christians and the Presentation of the Merits of the Religion of Islam and the Affirmation of the Prophethood of our prophet Muh.ammad. In making his case against Tathlīth al-wah.dānīyah, Ah.mad ibn ʿUmar al-Qurt.ubī quotes a series of substantial passages, adding up to some 383 lines of text in the modern addition of his rebuttal. However much of the work there might have been beyond the fragments quoted by al-Qurt.ubī, there were clearly at least three major subdivisions of Tathlīth al-wah.dānīyah in its original form—the first section that contains a Trinitarian argument from which the title of the work is drawn, a middle section that argued in favor of the Christian doctrine of the Incarnation, and a final portion which attempts to demonstrate that the Messiah has come as the incarnate word of God on the basis of the Hebrew Bible alone. While the second and especially third section of Tathlīth al-wah.dānīyah are relevant to the issues at hand, for the moment it is the first that calls our attention, for it is a thoroughly kalāmic argument. At the beginning of this first section, at least as it appears in al-Qurt.ubī’s quotations, the author of Tathlīth al-wah.dānīyah points out that he will be discussing only the names of God’s actions, without pretending to discuss His essence, and then asks his reader whether, “God’s creation of [all that He created] occurred by means of power and knowledge and will, or did He create them without these?” Assuming that all must agree that God created in some sense by means of these faculties, he then stresses that these faculties are names of God’s actions not of his essence, and that as such they are the properties on account of which God is called the Powerful, the Knowing, and the Willing. This is, he asserts, nothing other than the Trinity. He then explains that these three names of God’s actions refer respectively to the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit because of a distinction between the roles of each person of the Trinity implied by Jesus in such passages as Mt 28:19: “Whoever among them believes baptize in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.” The first role is the creation of all things, and this is the result of power and ascribed to the Father; the second purpose is the spiritual exhortation of humanity which is the work of knowledge, and attributable to the Son; the annihilation of all things and the rewarding of all people for their acts is the work of the will and thus ascribed to the Holy Spirit. One might object, the Christian author of Tathlīth al-wah.dānīyah concedes, that we call God many things other than the Powerful, the Knowing, and the Willing—what about names such as the Mighty, the Strong, the Victorious, the Hearing, the Conqueror, the Seeing, the Forgiving, and so on? To this objection, the Christian author responds that the faculties of power, knowledge, and will are the sources of all the other names: they emanate from them and are incorporated in them. The faculty of power, for example, is the source of names

224 Thomas Burman such as the Mighty, the Strong, and the Victorious, while the faculty of will is the source of such names as the Forgiving, the Consenting, the Angry, and the Punishing. Two other names of God—the Living and the Eternal—cannot be ascribed to any member of the power-knowledge-will triad, but this is because they are names of God’s essence which are only used to describe through negation, Living by negation of dead, Eternal by negation of temporal. But as for names of God deriving from his actions in creation, these all reduce to three and no more: the Powerful, the Knowing, and the Willing. This argument clearly stands in a long tradition of apologias for the Trinity, rooted in kalāmic thought that had developed among Middle-Eastern Christians. One of the most important issues that the Muslim doctors of kalām discussed was precisely the nature and number of divine faculties or attributes (sifāt) possessed by God. Every compendium of kalām, including Ibn Tūmart’s, had a section dedicated to this topic. Not surprisingly, Arab Christians quickly recognized that this Muslim discussion of a plurality of divine attributes—typically considered to be eight or so in number—opened an intellectual space in which to argue for a plurality of divine persons. Thus perhaps the greatest Arab-Christian thinker of the early Middle Ages, the Aristotelian philosopher and mutikallim, Yah.ya ibn ʿAdī (893–974), for example, formulated a similarly rationalist argument for the Trinity in his Treatise on God’s Unity (Maqālah fī al-tawhīd). After demonstrating in its first three parts that God is necessarily both one and multiple, he argues in part four that this first cause must necessarily have three attributes, liberality (jawād), power (qudrah), and wisdom (hikmah). As Samir Khalil Samir, the text’s modern editor points out, Yah.ya never uses the Arabic-Christian theological vocabulary in this text—he does not identify these three with the persons of the Trinity, nor does he refer to “Trinity” (Thulūth) or “hypostasis” (uqnūm)–—making this highly philosophical tract a kind of prolegomena to Trinitarian thought, a “philosophical investigation with a theological goal.” Of course a Christian reader, Samir goes on to say, “will understand . . . that the Liberal One (jawād) is the Father and that the one ascribed the attribute of wisdom is the Son” and so on. Yah.ya does, however, employ this same triad elsewhere with explicitly Christian audiences in mind—such as in a short rebuttal of the Muslim philosopher al-Kindī’s (now lost) refutation of Christianity—and here he is plain-spoken: “These three hypostasis (aqānīm) are, among [the Christians] . . . attributes by which the one substance [of God] is described because he is Liberal, Wise, and Powerful. Liberality among them is called “Father,” and Wisdom is called “Son,” and Power is called the “Holy Spirit.”

Latin Sources? There were ample models, then, from earlier periods in Arab-Christian thought for Tathlīth al-wah.dānīyah’s basic approach to the Trinity, and it seems likely

Via impugnandi in the Age of Alfonso VIII 225 that its author was quite consciously drawing on them. Yet there is an intriguing parallel in this argument with high-medieval Latin thought on the Trinity, and, intriguingly enough, evidence in a second Arab-Christian work from Iberia urges us to look in that direction as well for its sources. As part of his refutation of Tathlīth al-wah.dānīyah, Ah.mad ibn ʿUmar al-Qurt.ubiī, the Muslim author of al-Iʿlām, stressed the differences between its Trinitarian argument and that propounded by a Christian bishop named “Aghushtīn,” whom he likewise quotes at some length. Al-Qurt.ubī speaks of this Aghushtīn as if he considers him the famous Bishop of Hippo, though this can hardly be the case. While his goal in quoting him is to undermine Tathlīth al-wah.dānīyah by demonstrating its departures from the teaching of another, greater Christian authority, the Trinitarian arguments that both works propound are rather similar. In the first of two substantial quotations by al-Qurt.ubī, Aghushtīn asserts that the learned Magi (majūs), by which he appears to mean pagan, Greek philosophers, believed in a universal power that embraced all things. All that is necessary for Christians, then, is to argue that this power possesses the eternal faculties of knowledge and will in order to make clear the triune nature of God. To do so, he argues that none deny that God existed before all things. “Can you deny [then] that [God] is eternally powerful?” he asks his Muslim audience. The same thing can be shown, Aghushtīn goes on to suggest, about knowledge (ʿilm) and will (irādah), so that God is rightly described as possessing the attributes of power, knowledge, and will. These three are unlike other divine attributes such as compassion or judgment since there was a time before there were any creatures for God to be compassionate toward or to undertake judgment about. Attributes such as these, therefore, only describe God’s acts in creation, and are not eternal. But as for power, knowledge, and will, they are eternal: “They are not found separate from [God] nor He separate from them. This is our teaching about the Trinity which the Gospel describes and requires to be believed and names . . . the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.” Despite the fact that Aghushtīn argues that the power-knowledge-will triad consists of eternal attributes, while the author of Tathlīth al-wah.dānīyah denies that we can have knowledge of God’s eternal attributes, and so treats them as attributes of action, we cannot help but be struck that both apologists have seized on precisely the same triad of attributes around which to build their arguments. For while earlier and later Arab-Christian apologists used a number of different configurations of attributes in Trinitarian argumentation, the closest approximation to this Iberian version can be found in a still unpublished work called al-Murshid (The Guide) by the West Syrian theologian, Yah.yā ibn Jarīr (1103/4), where he argues that all the attributes of God recognized by Muslim theologians can be reduced to three—power (qudrah), wisdom (h.ikmah), and liberality (jūd) —which correspond respectively to the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. The only serious difference between this triad and that used in Tathlīth

226 Thomas Burman al-wah.dānīyah and Aghushtīn is between liberality (jūd) and will (irādah) as corresponding to the Holy Spirit. Typically, however, Arab-Christian apologists preferred rather different triads. Moreover, Aghushtīn specifically connects the use of this particular triad to the non-Arabic-speaking world on two separate occasions. “Knowledge,” he observes, was only called the Son because of its relation to power, since power is its source. And just as the foreign convention came to be that power which is the source is called Father, so also the convention in that language came to be that knowledge pertaining to it is called the Son. Later in concluding his Trinitarian argument, moreover, he comments that, “This is our teaching about the Trinity which the Gospel describes and orders to be believed, and names it in the foreign language the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.” The word that I have translated as “foreign” in both these passages is the common Arabic word aʿjamī which, together with the variant ʿajamī, means “barbarian,” “foreign,” or “non-Arabic” in various contexts. While in the Eastern Islamic world it often simply meant “Persian,” in al-Andalus it typically referred to either the Romance vernacular spoken there or to Latin, and, despite its originally negative connotations, Arab Christians in Iberia happily used to refer to their communal languages. The Christian author of Tathlīth al-wah.dānīyah actually challenges his Muslim readers in the third part of the work to “Establish [the veracity of your faith] on the basis of the Torah in Hebrew and on the basis of the Gospel in al-ʿajamī”—in the “foreign tongue.” For a western Mediterranean Christian, the foreign, non-Arabic, tongue in which one could commonly find the Gospels was Latin, and it is clear from al-Qurtubi’s response a few pages later that he believes that the “foreign” Gospels in question are in Latin: he will recount what they say, he asserts, “just as Jerome (Yarūm) and H.afs. ibn Albar and others have translated them,” just as, that is, Jerome translated them into Latin, which Latin version he wrongly believed the Mozarab H.afs. ibn Albar later put into. So thorough was this use of all aʿjamī to refer to the Latin language in written contexts that Iberian Christians who knew Arabic regularly used the term to refer to their own liturgical language. In the preface to an anonymous Arabic translation of the Latin Psalms from the tenth century, we are told that when the Greeks (al-rūm), the Jews, the barbarian/foreigners (al-ʿajam), and others first believed, they “prayed to their Lord in the language which they knew: whoever was Greek, in the Greek language (al-rūmiyah), whoever was Syrian in the Syrian language, and whoever was an ʿajamī in the Latin language (al-Lat.inīyah).” In the early thirteenth century, Mark of Toledo himself— translator of Ibn Tūmart—thought that when the term aʿjamī was used in the Qur’an (16:103) it meant “Latin” (which is undoubtedly not the case). Even the English immigrant and Qur’an translator, Robert of Ketton, was so used to the

Via impugnandi in the Age of Alfonso VIII 227 word referring to Latin, that he translated it the same way in the middle of the twelfth century. The term could also refer to the Romance vernacular, but to say, as Aghushtīn does, that it became al-taʿarūf al-aʿjamī, “the foreign convention,” to ascribe the attribute of power to the Father means almost certainly, given the elevated, theological subject matter, that it became the Latin convention to do so, while his assertion that the Gospel describes the Trinity and names it in the aʿjamī language “Father, Son, and Holy Spirit” signifies without doubt that the Gospel does this in the Latin language. So for him the use of the power-knowledge-will triad was somehow linked to conventional, customary ways of talking about the Trinity in Latin. What is striking is that, while we have no record of Arab Christians using this triad in Trinitarian theology other than in these two Iberian Arabic texts, we have no end of examples of it being used for just this purpose among Latin Christians, beginning in the first third of the twelfth century and lasting throughout much of the rest of the Middle Ages and beyond. Indeed, we would not be going too far in saying that it became precisely “the Latin convention,” al-taʿarūf al-aʿjamī, to do so. From the 1120s on, Latin theologians repeatedly invoked a triad of divine attributes—potentia-sapientia-benignitas, power-wisdom-goodness—as they developed a distinctively Latin-Christian theology of Trinity. Indeed, this triad along with a handful of others (such as unitas-aequalitas-concordia) was at the core of an intense and recondite exploration of what came to be known technically as “appropriation.” How is it that scripture and Catholic tradition seem to ascribe some attributes, such as power, wisdom, and goodness, to specific members of the Trinity (in this case to the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit respectively), even though Catholic theology also stressed that all divine attributes were equally present in all three persons of the Trinity? Why are some attributes “appropriated” in some special sense to one person of the Trinity even though these attributes are common to all persons? While scholars long argued that Peter Abelard (1079–1142) originated the Trinitarian uses of this triad, Dominique Poirel argued a decade ago, at great and rather persuasive length, that it was his contemporary Hugh of St. Victor (d. 1141) who did so, Abelard learning of its use from him. Thereafter the triad became the common property of nearly all Latin Trinitarian theology from the mid-twelfth century through to the end of the Middle Ages—in both scholastic and monastic circles, from theologians to mystics. In just the second half of the twelfth century, we find it in the schools, notably in the seminal Latin theology textbook, Peter Lombard’s Four Books of Sentences, but also in Benedictine thinkers such as Werner of St. Blaise, Herman von Rein, and Frowin of Engelberg, among Cistercians such as St. Bernard of Clairvaux and Aelred of Rievaulx, among regular canons such Gerhoh of Reichersberg and Hugues de Fouilly, and in the works of nearly every significant Victorine. In the thirteenth century, all the leading theologians—from William of Auxerre to

228 Thomas Burman Alexander of Hales to Albert the Great to Aquinas to Bonaventure—invoke the potentia-sapientia-benignitas triad when they expatiate on the appropriation of divine attributes. Though the most common form of this triad was that just cited (potentiasapientia-benignitas, power-wisdom-will), which seems only moderately akin to the qudrah-ʿilm-irādah triad of the Arab-Christian texts, the parallel is actually much more exact than it seems. First of all, while ʿilm (“knowledge, learning, cognition”), the second member of the Arabic triad, might seem more suitable as a translation for the Latin scientia, rather than sapientia, it is clear that for users of this Latin triad, sapientia contained very much the sense of rational knowledge, learning, and discursive insight that scientia and ʿilm have as well. For Hugh of St. Victor, the sapiential quality of the second person of the Trinity is closely associated with knowledge of the truth (veritas). Indeed, he observed on one occasion that “when we sin out of ignorance, we sin against the Son, as if against sapientia,” and in the next century, St. Bonaventure (d. 1274) associated the sapientia of the Son with omniscientia. In point of fact, in highmedieval Latin sapientia and scientia were often used interchangeably, and thus we should not be surprised to find that the twelfth-century Glossarium latinoarabicum, a Latin-Arabic glossary written by Arab Christians in Spain, actually defines sapientia as ʿilm or h.ikmah (“wisdom”), in that order. “Goodness” (benignitas) seems, however, rather more distant from “will” (irādah). Yet doing good in Latin thought was seen as a function of the will. In fact, a whole series of other terms were used, from the time of Hugh and Abelard on, more or less interchangeably with benignitas as the third member of the triad, all of them connected to the notion of willing what is good—affectus bonus, bonitas, amor, caritas. Indeed, Richard of St. Victor, whose discussion of this triad was widely quoted and fundamentally shaped its use and understanding, went to the heart of the issue when he asked rhetorically, “What is goodness (bonitas) but good will (bona voluntas)?” Not surprisingly, therefore, we frequently find “will” (voluntas) appearing by itself as the third member of the triad, as when William of Conches (d. 1145) observed that “There is therefore in the divinity power, knowledge, and will. Holy men refer to these three as persons . . . calling power the Father, knowledge the Son, will the Holy Spirit.”

But Who Influenced Whom? So here, and in wide use indeed, we find the exact Latin equivalent to the Arabic qudrah-ʿilm-irādah of the Arab-Christian works, and on the basis of this triad and its variations, Latin theologians developed fuller arguments with many of the features of the Arab-Christian treatises from Spain. That both ArabChristian apologists in Iberia and Latin-Christian theologians throughout Europe were turning to the power-knowledge-will triad as they expounded the doctrine of the Trinity naturally raises the question of who influenced whom.

Via impugnandi in the Age of Alfonso VIII 229 Since we have no clear evidence of when either the Tathlīth al-wah.dānīyah or Aghushtīn’s tract was written—al-Qurt.ubī, our sole source for them, tells us nothing about this, and may well not have known—it is surely possible that they were written much earlier than the 1120s when we know definitively that Hugh and Abelard initiated the use of the potentia-sapientia-benignitas triad in Latin theology. It is therefore possible in turn for these Arabic treatises, or at least the Iberian Arab-Christian intellectual milieu that produced them, to be the ultimate sources for Latin Christendom’s full-bodied embrace and widespread use of it in just the same way. Or indeed it is possible that the use of the triad in the Arab-Christian sources and in Latin texts are entirely unrelated phenomena—nothing more than a coincidence. Daniel Potthast, in his excellent and exhaustive recent discussion of these texts, has argued that both these possibilities undermine my argument for the Latin origins of the qudrah-ʿilm-irādah triad. It seems to me that both these possibilities are far less likely than the position I originally argued for. For one thing, it is quite difficult to imagine how Hugh and Abelard—who both passed the entirety of their lives well north of the Pyrenees, who were utterly unable to read or speak Arabic—could have come into contact with Arab-Christian Trinitarian arguments of any kind. On the other hand, while Cyrille Aillet, in his equally excellent Les Mozarabes: Christianisme, Islamisation et Arabisation en Péninsule Ibérique (IXe–XII3 siècle), has called into question some of P. Sj. van Koningsveld’s earlier claims about how widespread Latin learning was in Mozarabic circles in twelfth-century Toledo, we know without doubt that at least some Mozarabs in Iberia were actively studying and using Latin in this period, a language that survived among them in their liturgy. Moreover, Aghushtīn, explicitly tied the use of this triad among them to “Latin convention,” and indeed we have seen that using this triad to explicate the Trinity was so common in Latin Christendom from the mid-twelfth century on that it can be quite accurately described as such. Over against the two fragmentary Arab-Christian texts that make use of this triad, therefore, we have innumerable Latin texts testifying to its ubiquitous use for the same Trinitarian purposes among the most notable theologians of the Latin tradition from the twelfth century on. Indeed so commonplace was the power-knowledge-will triad in its several variants that it spilled over into the vernacular. In a thirteenth-century vernacular French disputation between a Christian and a Jew, the former argues that “The Power is the Father who made all things without matter; / the Intelligence is the Son who descended from the Father; / the Goodness of both is the Holy Spirit.” Far more likely, therefore, than that the obscure Arab-Christian uses of the power-knowledge-will triad were somehow the source of their Latin ubiquity, far more likely indeed than that their use was an independent development on both sides of a very porous intellectual and linguistic border, is that these originally Latin notions crossed that porous border and were combined with

230 Thomas Burman Oriental-Christian approaches to Christian apologetic. In this entirely more credible scenario, the Trinitarian arguments of Tathlīth al-wah.dānīyah and Aghushtīn represent, therefore, a remarkable fusion of Arab-Christian kalāmic argumentation with roots in the Middle East going back two centuries with contemporary Latin-Christian theology as it entered into its greatest period. Maribel Fierro was even more skeptical of the Latin origins of the qudrahʿilm-irādah triad, arguing, on the one hand, that, since so much of the ArabChristian literature of the Middle East remains unstudied and unedited, it is entirely possible that an earlier work of Eastern origin will come to light in which that triad figures; and, on the other hand, that since both Tathlīth al-wah.dānīyah and Aghushtīn’s work survive only in a Muslim refutation, they may well be of entirely Muslim concoction—straw horses jiggered up to be convenient targets for Muslim polemic. Her estimate of the state of scholarship on Arab-Christian theology seems to me to be a considerable overstatement. Certainly no work has turned up in the twenty years since—twenty years of quite intensive study of the Arab-Christian tradition—in which this triad figures; but, more to the point, there were really quite extensive explorations of the topic of the Trinity in Arab-Christian thought, based on many works appearing only in manuscript, available by the early 1990s, and none of them referred to any instance of this triad’s use for Trinitarian purposes. But, more importantly, imagining that the two works are of Eastern-Christian origin entails a significant difficulty of its own. In that case, when Aghushtīn refers to the Trinitarian argument as an al-taʿāruf al-ʿajamī, he would have been referring, presumably, to one of the Eastern-Christian languages, the phrase meaning, say, “Syriac convention,” or “Coptic convention,” or “Armenian convention.” But why would an Eastern-Christian text making reference to Eastern-Christian languages be attributed to anyone named Aghushtīn (a form that, for one thing, appears to be based on the Spanish “Agustín”)? While Augustine of Hippo was a seminal figure in Latin-Christian thought, and to a much lesser degree in Greek-Christian, he was virtually absent from the ArabChristian tradition. None of his works (or the works of any of the Latin Fathers other than John Cassian) were translated into Arabic; Eastern Christians did not name their children “Aghushtīn.” Why would a Syriac or Coptic theological notion come to be associated with anyone bearing this name? Indeed a much more likely explanation of the attribution is that while Augustine of Hippo was certainly not the author of the potentia-sapientia-voluntas triad or its Trinitarian uses, from a relatively early point in the twelfth century, Latin scholars said that he was. In this sense, it was very much “Aghushtīn’s” triad. But what about Fierro’s other objection, that these works may well be Muslim forgeries? This is also a possibility, but embracing that assumption would entangle us in an even more unlikely scenario: that Ah.mad ibn ʿUmar al-Qurt. ubī, the author of the work in which the Arab-Christian treatises are quoted, managed, first of all, through sheer coincidence, to confect fake Arab-Christian

Via impugnandi in the Age of Alfonso VIII 231 polemical texts, in which a key argument appears that we know, without any doubt, was used widely in contemporary Latin theology; and, secondly, in confecting this Trinitarian argument, he also fabricated the notion that it was, well, of Latin origin anyway. For if Aghushtīn’s treatise were an Andalusī forgery what else could the forger mean by describing this approach to the Trinity as al-taʿāruf al-ʿajamī than that it is a Latin/Romance convention—especially since the forger clearly uses al-ʿajamī with this meaning elsewhere? An Andalusī Muslim scholar, therefore, with no knowledge of Latin, managed coincidentally to invent a line of argument that was a commonplace in Latin thought, and then invented the notion that this line of thought was, in fact, of Latin origin. Such a set of coincidences is far more difficult to credit than the rather straightforward notion that a Latin idea managed to infiltrate a community of Arabic-speaking Christians who worshipped in and were studying Latin. But even these unlikely scenarios are, of course, possible: history is full of the most unlikely quirks, after all. It is possible that an Andalusī writer meant something else by al-aʿjamī; it is possible that an Arab-Christian argument about the Trinity, which otherwise cannot be found in this form elsewhere in the Arab world, traveled somehow to northern France where, quite remarkably, it became a commonplace of Latin thought; it is possible that all these parallels between Latin-Christian and Mozarabic thought are independent coincidences. But given the facts that the Arabic-speaking Christians of Spain used the Latin liturgy, composed a dictionary that allowed them to read Latin texts better, and continued to read the Bible in Latin (and annotate it in Arabic), it is far more believable that they were doing just what Middle-Eastern Christians had long done—incorporating ideas and argumentative strategies from their own Christian linguistic traditions into the wider Arab-Christian theological and apologetic tradition. In my view, indeed, we should be quite surprised if they had not.

Christian Kalm and Rodrigo Ximénez de Rada’s “School” But if I remain convinced that the Trinitarian arguments in Tathlīth alwah.dānīyah and Aghushtīn’s Mas.h.af al-ʿālam al-kāʾin were shaped in part by the Latin triad of Hugh of St. Victor and Peter Abelard, and that they must have been written, therefore, after the first third of the twelfth century, new research by Samir Kaddouri has made clear that a terminus ante quem of about 1200 that I, following P. Sj. van Koningsveld, had argued for, cannot be correct. It was based on a comment by the Muslim author of the refutation of Tathlīth al-wah.dānīyah, that Islam was, in his day, a little more than six hundred years old—literally, “it had six hundred years and a little more (wa-nayyif).” Assuming that the “little more” here meant but two or three years, calculating this out in lunar years yielded a date of about 1200 CE. This was the only internal evidence in the text providing any clue about the date of the work, and nothing

232 Thomas Burman was known about the Muslim author otherwise—the surviving manuscripts identify him only as “al-Imām al-Qurt.ubī,” a moniker about as precise in the circumstances as “the New-York Professor” or “the Parisian Intellectual”—that might have provided any assistance. Kaddouri, however, showed, in a meticulously-researched article, that this “Cordoban Imam” could be identified quite precisely as Abū al-ʿAbbās Ah.mad ibn ʿUmar ibn Ibrāhīm ibn ʿUmar alQurt.ubī, who died in 626/1258. While neither the manuscripts of al-Iʿlām nor the relevant biographical dictionaries attribute this work to him, in eight passages of another of his works called Kitāb al-Mufhim li-mā ashkala min talkhīs. kitāb Muslim this particular Cordoban Imam refers to a book of his own entitled al-Iʿlām bi-mā fī dīn al-nas.ārá min al-fasad. That this is so theoretically moves the terminus ante quem fully a half century later to 1258. Yet a lot depends on that little phrase, wa-nayyif—“and a little bit more”—in the passage of the al-Iʿlām that gives internal evidence of that work’s date. While van Koningsveld and I had taken it to mean just a few years, Kaddouri argues that several pieces of evidence, including Ah.mad ibn ʿUmar al-Qurt.ubī’s use of the phrase elsewhere and the details of his wide travels in al-Andalus, the Maghrib, and the Middle East argue for a date of between 614 and 616 AH or 1217 and 1219 CE. If Kaddouri is right about this dating of al-Iʿlām—and given the evidence currently available, this is probably the best argument that one can make—then an attractive synchronicity looms before us: in 1213 Mark of Toledo, in his preface to his translation of Ibn Tūmart, described a via impugnandi against Islam that made use of the tools of kalām within only a few years of when an ArabChristian treatise that matches that description was in fact sent, from Toledo, to Cordoba where Ah.mad ibn ʿUmar al-Qurt.ubī’s fellow shaykhs persuaded him to refute it. This synchronicity is especially arresting if we bear in mind that in 1214 Rodrigo Ximénez de Rada, archbishop of Toledo, and patron of both Mark and Mauricio, wrote a polemical work against Judaism (only discovered in 1962 and critically edited in 1999) in which the same triad figures prominently in an argument for the Trinity, in exactly the version—potentiasapientia-voluntas—that corresponds best with the qudrah-ʿilm-irādah of the Arabic texts. A chapter on the properties that distinguish the members of the Trinity begins with the flat statement, “Power, knowledge and will, that is, the Father and the Son and Holy Spirit,” while elsewhere he argues that the functioning of these three attributes in God can be understood through their functioning in the human soul: “Why do you deny in your creator,” he asks his imaginary Jewish interlocutor, what you are compelled to confess of yourself? That in order for the completion of a thing to be brought about, three things are necessary: power, knowledge, and will. If any one of these is absent, incompletion will follow,

Via impugnandi in the Age of Alfonso VIII 233 not completion. If therefore you begin to do anything, but are not able or do not know how or do not want to, the thing begun will not come to completion. What you call power that we describe and confess as Father, what you knowledge that we the Son, what you call will that we the Holy Spirit. The author of Tathlīth al-wahh.dānīyah argues likewise: for if in God, one [of the three] is incapacitated, then the act will not be completed by the remaining two. For if He knows and wills and is not able, then He will be incapable, and if He is able and knows and does not will, then nothing will be completed for Him except through will, and if He is able and does not know, an act will not be complete for Him in ignorance. Lucy Pick has argued, moreover, that Rodrigo was a student of Alan of Lille (d. 1204) who was also influential among other scholars associated with him and his archiepiscopal court, Michael Scot, Mauricio, his archdeacon, and Mark of Toledo. Alan expounded on the Trinity at some length using the potentia-sapientia-benignitas triad. So also did an earlier scholar who not only influenced Alan, but whose works were known to be in the cathedral library in Toledo in Rodrigo’s lifetime—Gilbert de la Porée (d. 1154). Rodrigo and his circle of scholars, therefore, were reading key works of Latin theology, translating Arabic texts—including the Qur’an and Ibn Tūmart into Latin— engaging in polemic against Judaism and Islam, and recommending for that task a via impugnandi that put Muslim kalām to work for Christian purposes. If we are looking for a group who “profess the religion of the Christian sect” (al-muntah.līna li-dīn al-millah al-Nas.rānīyah), one or some of whom wrote Tathlīth al-wah.dānīyah, and, according to Ah.mad ibn ʿUmar al-Qurt.ubī, sent it from Toledo to Cordoba, we could not find likelier candidates.

“The Whirlpool Effect” and Christian Almohadism? Though I think it rather less likely, there is, in fact, another circle of Latin scholars deeply immersed in Arabic and Arab thought whom we might also imagine as the group to whom al-Qurt.ubī referred, if we are willing to imagine that al-Iʿlām was written not just before 1220 as Kaddouri contends, but very near the end of al-Qurt.ubī’s life in the mid to late 1250s: Ramón Martí and other Dominicans associated with that order’s language schools. For Martí’s works coincide with the two Arab-Christian treatises not just in the use of the potentia-sapientia-voluntas triad but in a second striking way as well. Tathlīth al-wah.dānīyah’s third section does something that is, to my knowledge, entirely unprecedented in Arab-Christian theology: it attempts to argue, on the basis of the Hebrew Bible alone, that the Messiah has come, and to do so it quotes the Hebrew Bible eight times in Hebrew (in Arabic transliteration), and once in

234 Thomas Burman Aramaic (likewise in Arabic characters). But such use of the Hebraica veritas had a long history in the Latin world by the early thirteenth century, and Martí was its greatest practitioner. But whether Tathlīth al-wah.dānīyah and Aghushtīn’s Mas.h.af emerged from Rodrigo’s court or the early Dominican order (I treat of this latter possibility at length elsewhere), we can discern in their via impugnandi something of what Sarah Stroumsa has recently described as the “whirlpool effect.” In the “complex intellectual world” of medieval Iberia (and by extension the Mediterranean in general), ideas traveled, she comments, from one intellectual or religious community to another, “slightly modifying the system into which they were adopted and, in the process, undergoing some transformation themselves.” In no case was this one-way traffic. It “went in all directions,” creating this whirlpool effect: Like a drop of colored liquid which, when falling into the turbulent water of the whirlpool eventually colors the whole body of water, an idea introduced into this intellectually receptive world had an impact on all its components. In the creative whirlpool, moreover, that welded Latin-Christian theology onto Arab-Christian apologetic (itself rooted in Arab-Muslim thought), finally, we might also just dare to see the signs of a broader pattern of borrowing characteristic of the western Mediterranean in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. The great Maimonides himself, Stroumsa has argued elsewhere, was what she called “An Almohad ‘Fundamentalist,’ ” a Jewish intellectual deeply imprinted with specifically Almohad intellectual tendencies. Maribel Fierro has seen Alfonso X—Alfonso VIII’s great-grandson—as “the last Almohad caliph.” His approach to governing, she contends, was essentially modeled on that of Almohad rulers, and is unintelligible without attending to that fact. Indeed, for Fierro, the Almohad movement had its biggest legacy among non-Muslims, especially Christians. Given Mark of Toledo’s recommendation of the study of Ibn Tūmart’s thought and given the striking rationalism of the Trinitarian arguments of Tathlīth al-wah.dānīyah and Aghushtīn’s Mas.h.af, we might well think of their via impugnandi as still another form of this Christian Almohadism emerging from the turbulent multi-religious, multi-lingual whirlpool of ideas in the Spain of Alfonso VIII. Notes 1. “Transtuli siquidem [librum] Habento[meti] post librum Mofometi [sic], ut ex utriusque inspectione fideles in Sarracenos inuehendi exercitamenta sumant ampliora. . . . . maioris [ponderis?] sunt apud discretos uiros et prudentes argumenta et persuasiones quas Habentometus induxit in libello Vnions quam uerba M[a]fameti [sic] in Alcorano, turbata ualdeque confusa . . . quoniam quidem hic Habentometus necessa-

Via impugnandi in the Age of Alfonso VIII 235 riis innixus assertionibus ad probandum unum Deum esse primum et nouissimum, suam bene fundauit intentionem . . . . in catholicis uiris utrumque librum inspicientibus Maurorum secreta uia patet impugnandi.” Ed. Marie-Thérèse d’Alverny and Gorges Vajda, in “Marc de Tolède, traducteur d’Ibn Tūmart,” al-Andalus 16 (1951): 268–69. As the emendations here suggest, the text in the surviving manuscript is problematic. An Italian translation of the Latin text survives from the fifteenth century, however, based on a different manuscript, and it confirms most of the Latin editors’ adjustments; see Luciano Formisano, “La pìu antica [?] traduzione italiana del Corano e il Liber Habentometi di Ibn Tūmart in una compilazione di viaggi del primo Cinquecento,” Critica del testo 8/2 (2004): 685–87. 2. I follow here Richard Frank’s argument that Muslim kalām is essentially analogous to Christian Theology. See his “The Science of Kalām,” Arabic Sciences and Philosophy 2 (1992): 7–37. On Ibn Tūmart’s ʿAqīdah see most recently Frank Griffel, “Ibn Tūmart’s Rational Proof for God’s Existence,” in Los almohades: problemas y perspectivas, ed. Patrice Cressier, Maribel Fierro, and Luis Molina, 2 vols. (Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Cientificas, 2005), 2:753–813. 3. See the edition and English translation in A. L. Tibawi, “Al-Ghazāli’s Sojourn in Damascus and Jerusalem,” Islamic Quarterly 9 (1965): 79–94 (Arabic) and 95–122 (English). 4. For examples of their countless publications, see Griffiths, The Church in the Shadow of the Mosque: Christians and Muslims in the World of Islam (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2008), and Samir Khalil’s edition of Yah.á ibn ʿAdī’s Maqālah fī al-tawhīd cited in my note 17. 5. As d’Alverny and Vajda suggested in their “Marc de Tolède,” 101–2. 6. See AntonTien, ed., Risālat ʿAbd Allāh ibn Ismāʿīl al-Hāshimī ilá ʿAbd al-Masīh. ibn Ish.āq al-Kindī yarudda bi-hā ʿalayhi was yadʿūhu ilā al-Nas.rānīyah (The Apology of El-Kindi: A work of the Ninth Century, Written in Defence of Christianity by an Arab) (London: SPCK, 1885). For the kalāmic Trinitarian argument, see 56–57 and Rachid Haddad, La Trinité divine chez les théologiens arabes (750–1050) (Paris: Beauchesne Éditeur, 1985), 214–15, 232. 7. See my Religious Polemic and the Intellectual History of the Mozarabs, c. 1050–1200 (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1994), 62–79, 157–89. 8. “Fa-qad waqaftu . . . ʿalá kitāb kataba bi-hi baʿd. al-mutih.allīn li-dīn al-millah alnas.rānīyah sammāhā ‘tathlīth al-wah.dānīyah baʿatha bi-hi min t.ulayt.ilah aʿādahā Allāh ilá madīnat qurt.ubah h.arasaha Allāh mutaʿarid.an fīhi li-dīn al-muslimīn.” Ah.mad ibn ʿUmar ibn Ibrāhīm ibn ʿUmar al-Ans.ārī al-Qurt.ubī, Kitāb al-Iʿlām bi-mā fī dīn alNas.ārā min al-fasād wa-l-awhām wa-iz.hār mah.āsin dīn al-Islām wa-ithbāt nubuwwat nabiyyinā Muh.ammad, ed. A. Hijāzī al-Saqqā (Cairo: Dār al-Turāth al-ʿArabī, 1980), 43 (hereafter “al-Qurt.ubī”). On the identity of this author—which long eluded scholars, since he is identified in the manuscripts of this work only as “Imām al-Qurt.ubī,” see Samir Kaddouri (Qaddūrī), “Identificación de ‘al-Qurt.ubī,’ autor de Al-iʿlām bi-mā fī dīn al-Nas.ārā min al-fasād wa-l-awhām,” Al-Qant.ara 21 (2000) 215–19; idem, “Rih.lāt Ah.mad ibn ʿAmr al-Ans.ārī al-Qurt.ubī (t. 656 H.) fī l-Maghrib wa-l-Mashriq wa-mu allafātihi al-ʿilmiyya,” Majallat Maktabat al-Malik Fahd al-Wat.aniyya 11 (2005): 207–60. On this work in general, see David Thomas et al., Christian-Muslim Relations: A Bibliographical History (Leiden/Boston: E. J. Brill, 2009–) (hereafter CMR), 4:391–94.

236 Thomas Burman 9. al-Qurt.ubī, 45. 10. For this Arabic title and bibliographical information see previous note. 11. Quoted on the following pages Ah.mad ibn ʿUmar al-Qurt.ubī’s al-Iʿlām: 47, 57, 63, 71, 77, 91, 97, 105–6, 115–17, 163–65, 177, 181–85, 215–17. See most recently on this work see CMR, vol. 3; and Daniel Potthast’s extremely learned Christen und Muslime im Andalus: Andalusiche Christen und ihre Literatur nach religionspolemischen Texte des zehnten bis zwölften Jahrhunderts (Wiesbaden: Harrossowitz Verlag, 2013), 327–38 and, for a German translation, 537–50. 12. Tathlīth al-wah.dānīyah in al-Qurt.ubī, 63. 13. “Man āmana fa-ʿammidūhu ʿalá ism al-āb, wa-al-Ibn, wa-al-rūh. al-quds,” ibid., 63. 14. Ibid. 15. Ibid., 71. 16. See his ʿAqīdah in the famous twelfth-century compendium of his works, alʿAzz mā yut.lab, ed. ʿAmmām T.ālibī (Algiers: al-Mu assasah al-Wat.anīyah lil-Kitāb, 1985), 218–19. See also Frank, “The Science of kalām,” 12–13, and, on the enormous discussion of the sifāt in Kalām in general, Josef van Ess, Theologies und Gesellschaft in 2. und 3. Jahrhundert Hidschra: Eine Geschichte des religiösen Denkens im frühen Islam. Band IV (Berlin and New York: Walter de Gruyter, 1997), 425–59. 17. See his detailed study of this treatise that accompanies his edition of the text: Yah. yá ibn ʿAdī, Maqālah fī al-tawh.īd, ed. (Samir) Khalil Samir in Le traité de l’unité de Yah. yā ibn ʿAdī (893–974): Etude et Edition critique (Jounieh and Rome: Pontificium Institutum Orientalium Studiorum, 1980), 121, Arabic. Part four of the treatise concerns the Trinity (ch. 11–14, 260–77). See also on this work CMR, vol. 4. 18. Ibid, 126. Arabic. 19. See his “Un traité de Yah.yā ben ʿAdī: Défense du dogme de la Trinité contre les objections d’al-Kindī,” ed. and trans. Augustine Périer in Revue de l’Orient Chrétien 22 (1920–1921): 5. 20. For some sense of how widespread the Christian use of the kalāmic discourse on the attributes was in Trinitarian thought, see Rachid Haddad, La Trinité divine chez les théologiens arabes (750–1050) (Paris, 1985), passim. 21. Entitled Mas.h.af al-ʿālam al-kāʾin (The Book of the Existing World), it is quoted on the following pages of al-Qurt.ubi’s al-Iʿlām: 57–58, 69, 72, 81–83, 110, 126, 128, 143–48. On this work, see CMR, vol. 3. 22. See for example 57, 81, 148. Daniel Potthast views this work as either pseudoAugustinian or as written by an Andalusi Christian named Agustín; see Christen und Muslime im Andalus, 338–40. 23. Aghushtīn, Mas.h.af al-ʿālam al-kāʾin in al-Qurt.ubī, 81–82. 24. “Fa-thalāthatuhā ism li-ilāh wāhid . . . wa-lā tūjadu hiya ghayra-hu wa-lā yūjadu huwa ghayra-hā. Fa-hādhā qawlaunā fī al-thathlīth alladhī was.afahu al-injīl wa-amara bi-al-imān bi-hi wa-sammā-hu . . . al-āb wa-al-ibn wa-al-rūh. al-quds.” Aghushtīn in al-Qurt.ubī, 83. 25. On this work see Gabriel Khoury-Sarkis, ‘Le livre du Guide de Yahya ibn Jarir,’ L’Orient Syrien 12 (1967): 303–10; and CMR, vol. 3. 26. Rachid Haddad, La Trinité divine chez les théologiens arabes (750–1050) (Paris, 1985), 208–33; Paul Khoury, Matériaux pour servir à l’étude de la controverse théologique

Via impugnandi in the Age of Alfonso VIII 237 islam-chrétienne de langue arabe du XIIIe au XIIe siècle, 2 vols. (Würzburg: Echter Verlag; Altenberge, Oros Verlag, 1991), 2:305–73. 27. “Innamā summiya al-ʿilm ibnan bi-id.āfatihi ilá al-qudrah idh al-qudrah as.luhu. Wa-kamā s.āra al-taʿāruf al-aʿjamī an tusammá al-qudrah allatī hiya al-asl wālidan ka-dhālika s.āra al-taʿāruf fī dhālika al-lisān an tusammá al-ʿilm al-mansūbah ilayhā ibnan.” Aghushtīn in al-Qurt.ubī, 69. My italics in the English text. 28. “Fa-hādhā qawlaunā fī al-thathlīth alladhī was.afahu al-injīl . . . wa-sammāhu bi-al-lisān al-ʿajamī al-āb wa-al-ibn wa-al-rūh. al-quds.” Aghushtīn in al-Qurt.ubī, 83. My italics in the English text. 29. See Reinhart Dozy, Supplément aux dictionnaires arabes, 2 vols. (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1881), 2:98; Francisco Javier Simonet, Glosario de voces ibéricas y latinasusadas entre los mozárabes (Madrid, 1888), viii–ix; Federico Corriente, A Dictionary of Andalusi Arabic (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1977). 30. “Fa-ithbatuhu min al-Tawrah bi-al-ʿibrāniī? wa min-al-injīl bi-al-ʿajamī.” Aghushtīn in al-Qurt.ubī, 215. 31. “Wa-lākinna . . . nadhkuru kalām al- anbiyā min kitābukum kammā tarjamahā al-mutarjamūna min ahl millatikum mithl ‘Yarūm’ wa-‘H.afs. ibn Albar,” al-Qurt.ubī, 220. Ibn Albar only translated the Psalms into Latin. 32. Vatican City, Biblioteca Apostolica, MS ar. 5, 2r. 33. “Et iam scimus quod ipsi dicunt, quod ipsum docet homo. Et lingua eius cui documentum eius ascribunt Latina, et hec lingua est Arabica mera.” Nadia Petrus Pons, ed., “Liber Alchorani qvem Marcvs canonicvs Toletanvs transtvlit,” (Barcelona: Universidad Autónoma de Barcelona, 2008), 175. “Scimus quidem eos iam dicturos, linguae Latinae uirum doces, et Alchoran est Arabicus.” Theodor Bibliander, ed., Lex Mahumet pseudo-Prophete (Basel, 1550), 90. 34. Jacques Chollet, “Approriation (aux personnes de la Sainte Trinité),” Dictionnaire de théologie catholique, 1.2:1708–17. 35. See his Libre de la nature et débat trinitaire au xiie siècle: Le De tribus diebus de Hugues de Saint-Victor, Biblioteca Victoriana XIV (Turnhout: Brepols, 2002), 345–423. 36. Ibid., 385. 37. Ibid., 403–12. 38. Ibid., 315–18, 381–83, 388. 39. Ibid., 323. 40. “Quando ex ignorantia peccamus, peccamus in Filium, quasi contra sapientia.” Hugh of St. Victor, Eulogium sponsi, PL, 176:988C–989A; cf. Poirel, Livre de la nature, 342. 41. Ibid., 411. 42. Anonymous. Glossariuim latino-arabicum ex unico qui extat codice Leidensi undecimo saeculo in hispania conscripto, ed. Christian Friedrich Seybold (Ergänzungsheft Zur Zeitschrift für Assyriologie; Semitistische Studien 15–17) (Berlin, 1900), 453. 43. See Burman, Religious Polemic, 178–80; Poirel, 316–18. 44. Richard of St. Victor, De trinitate, 6. 5, ed. and trans. Gaston Salet in Sources chrétiennes 63 (Paris, 1959), 418. The same comment appears later, for example, in the Summa theologica attributed to Alexander of Hales 2. 2. 2. 3 (450), 1:646a: “quid autem est bonitas nisi bona voluntas?” 45. “Est ergo in divinitate potentia, sapientia et voluntas. Has tres sancti personas vocant . . . potentian appellantes Patrem, sapientiam Filium, voluntatem Spiritum

238 Thomas Burman sanctum,” quoted by William of St. Thierry in his De erroribus Guillelmi de Conchis, PL, 180:333c. For many examples of Hugh of St. Victor using voluntas in place of benignitas see Poirel, Livre de nature, 315–16. 46. Burman, Religious Polemic, 185–89. 47. Cyrille Aillet, Les Mozarabes: Christianisme, Islamisation et Arabisation en Péninsule Ibérique (IXe–XII3 siècle) (Madrid: Casa de Velázquez, 2010), esp. 153–71. 48. “Li pooirs est li peres qui tot fist sanz matere, / Li sens ce est li filz qui descendi du pere, / La bontez d’ambedeus c’est li sainz esperites.” “Disputoison du juyf et du crestion,” ed. Heinz Pflaum, in “Poems of Religious Disputations in the Middle Ages,” (Hebrew) Tarbiz. 2 (1691 [1930–31]): 473, ll. 359–61. 49. See her review of my Religious Polemic in al-Qantara 16 (1995):466–71. 50. As far as one can tell, at least, from employing the search tools of the digital version of the massive, recent Christian-Muslim Relations: A Bibliographical History. 51. See the works cited in notes 20 and 26 above. 52. See Poirel, Livre de la nature, 356–60, 408, 419. 53. See note 28, pp. 12 and 20. 54. Burman, Religious Polemic, 77–78, 82. 55. al-Qurt.ubī, 277. Kaddouri points out that a similar phrase appears on 219 as well. See his “Rih.lāt Ah.mad ibn ʿAmr al-Ans.ārī al-Qurt.ubī,” 169, 202, n. 28. 56. Ibid., passim, esp. 169, 202, n. 25. He sketched out this argument as well in his brief “Identificación de al-Qurt.ubī.” 57. “Potensia autem, sapiencia et voluntas, id est, pater et filius et spiritus sanctus . . .” (DRH, 194). See also Lucy Pick, Conflict and Coexistence: Archbishop Rodrigo and the Muslims and Jews of Medieval Spain (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2004), 86. 58. “Cur in tuo abnegas creatore quod in te ipso cogeris confiteri? Vt omnis rei perfeccio consumetur, tria necessario requiruntur, potencia, sapiencia et uoluntas; si unum ex istis abfuerit, inperfeccio non perfeccio subsequetur. Si ergo quicquam ceperis operari, si no poteris aut nescieritis aut nolueris, inceptum non perueniet ad efectum. Quam tu potenciam hunc nos patrem, quam tu sapienciam hunc nos filium, quam tu uoluntatem hunc nos spiritum sanctum dicimus et fatemur.” Ibid., 1.3, CCCM 72c, 18. 59. “Fa-in ʿajazat min-hā wāh.idah lam yatimmi bi-al-ithnayn fiʿl li-annahu in ʿalima wa-arāda wa-lam yaqdir fa-qad ʿajaza wa-in qadara wa-ʿalama wa-lam yurīd [sic] fa-lā yatimmi la-hu shay ʾillā bi-al-irādah wa-in-qadara wa-lam yaʿlam lam yatimmi la-hu fiʿl bi-al-jahl.” Tathlīth al-wah.dānīyah in al-Qurt.ubī, 71. 60. Pick, Conflict and Coexistence, 79–102. 61. Ibid., 81; ff. Poirel, Livre de la nature, 189, 307–8, 401–2, 413–16. 62. Tathlīth al-wah.dānīyah in al-Qurt.ubī, 180–85. 63. See Thomas Burman, “Ramon Martí, the Potentia-Sapientia-Benignitas Triad and Thirteenth-Century Christian Apologetic,” in Ex Oriente Lux: Translating Words, Scripts and Styles in Medieval Mediterranean Society, ed. Charles Burnett and Pedro Mantas-España (Córdoba: UCOPress, 2016), 217–34. 64. Sarah Stroumsa, “Thinkers of ‘This Peninsula’: Toward an Integrative Approach to the Study of Philosophy in al-Andalus,” in Beyond Religious Borders: Interaction and Intellectual Exchange in the Medieval Islamic World, ed. David M. Freidenreich and

Via impugnandi in the Age of Alfonso VIII 239 Miriam Goldstein (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2012), 52–53. She makes much the same point in her remarkable recent book, Maimonides in His World: Portrait of a Mediterranean Thinker (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2009), xiv. 65. Stroumsa, Maimonides in His World, 53–83. 66. Maribel Fierro, “Alfonso X ‘The Wise’: The Last Almohad Caliph?” Medieval Encounters 15 (2009): 175–98.

Acknowledgments This book began as a series of conference papers at the Saint Louis University’s Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies Summer Conference in June 2014. That year marked the eight-hundredth anniversary of the birth of Saint Louis and the death of his grandparents, Alfonso VIII of Castile and his wife Eleanor of England (Leonor). We were tremendously grateful for the financial help we received from the Mellon foundation, the American Association of Research Historians of Medieval Spain, and the Dean of Arts and Sciences at Saint Louis University, which allowed us to assemble an international team of experts on the theme of Alfonso’s reign. Unfortunately, for various reasons, we were not able to publish all of the papers delivered at that conference but we do believe, nevertheless, that this collection will demonstrate just why Alfonso VIII’s reign is considered pivotal in the history of the medieval Iberian Peninsula and, at the same time, we hope it will encourage other scholars to take up the study of those themes of the reign which have not been dealt with here. We owe particular debts of thanks to Emily Henry, who read through the entire text, and to Dr. Nicholas Paul, who encouraged us in the enterprise. Mary Erler and Franklin Harkins, as series editors, have offered us excellent advice in revising the manuscript, and William Cerbone has been patience itself at Fordham University Press.

241

Contributors Martín Alvira Cabrer is Associate Professor in the Department of Medieval History at the Universidad Complutense in Madrid. His works include Las Navas de Tolosa, 1212: Idea, liturgia, y memoria de la batalla (Madrid, 2012) and Muret 1213: La batalla decisiva de la Cruzada contra los Cataros (Barcelona, 2008), as well as the edition of the documents of Peter II of Aragon (6 vols., Zaragoza, 2010). Carlos de Ayala Martínez holds a chair in Medieval History in the Department of Ancient and Medieval History, Palaeography, and Diplomatic of the Universidad Autónoma de Madrid. He is the author of many monographs, including Las órdenes militares hispánicas en la Edad Media (Madrid, 2003) and Sacerdocio y reino en la España Altomedieval (Madrid, 2008). Janna Bianchini is Associate Professor of History at the University of Maryland and the author of The Queen’s Hand: Power and Authority in the Reign of Queen Berenguela of Castile (Philadelphia, 2012). Her articles have appeared widely in such journals as Early Medieval Europe, the English Historical Review, and the Journal of Medieval Iberian Studies. Thomas Burman is Professor of History and Robert M. Conway Director of the Medieval Institute at Notre Dame University. He is the author of Religious Polemic and the Intellectual History of the Mozarabs (Leiden, 1994) and Reading the Qur’an in Latin Christendom (Philadelphia, 2009), which won the Jacque Barun Prize in Cultural History. Sam Zeno Conedera, S.J., a former Jesuit Scholastic at the Pontifical Gregorian University in Rome, and a former Visiting Professor in the Department of History at Santa Clara University, is the author of the recent Ecclesiastical Knights from Fordham University Press (2015). He is currently doing post-doctoral research on the early history of the Society of Jesus at Saint Louis University. Miguel Gómez is Lecturer in History at the University of Dayton, and is finishing a manuscript on the crusade of Las Navas de Tolosa. His articles have appeared in the Anuario de la Historia de la Iglesia, and in 2012 he edited a special volume of the Journal of Medieval Iberian Studies about the campaign of Las Navas de Tolosa. Kyle C. Lincoln is Visiting Assistant Professor at Kalamazoo College. His articles have appeared in the Anuario de la Historia de la Iglesia and the Revista Chilena de Estudios Medeivales. His doctoral thesis investigated the Church in the Kingdom of Castile during the reign of Alfonso VIII of Castile. Joseph F. O’Callaghan is Professor Emeritus of History at Fordham University, and the author of numerous volumes on the history of medieval Spain—including his groundbreaking A History of Medieval Spain (New York, 1975). His most recent work includes a trilogy of studies investigating the complex nature of crusading in medieval Spain (Philadelphia, 2003‒2014).

243

244 Contributors Teofilo F. Ruiz is Distinguished Professor of History at UCLA and, in 2011, was awarded the National Humanities Medal for his work on medieval Spain. He is the author of numerous volumes and studies, including From Heaven to Earth: The Reordering of Castilian Society, 1150‒1350 (Princeton, 2004), Spain’s Centuries of Crisis: 1300‒1474 (Oxford, 2007), and A King Travels (Princeton, 2012). Miriam Shadis is Associate Professor of History at Ohio University, and the author of the recent Berenguela of Castile (1180‒1246) and Her Family: Political Women in the High Middle Ages (New York, 2009) and her articles have appeared in journals such as History Compass and the Journal of Medieval Iberian Studies. Damian Smith is Professor of History at Saint Louis University. His works include Innocent III and the Crown of Aragon (Aldershot, 2004), Crusade, Heresy, and Inquisition in the Lands of the Crown of Aragon (Leiden, 2010), and the English-language translation, with Helena Buffery, of the Llibre dels Feits of James I of Aragon (Aldershot, 2003). James J. Todesca is Associate Professor of History at Georgia Southern University. He has written numerous articles on the economic development of Christian Spain and is editor of The Emergence of León-Castile, c. 1065–1500: Essays presented to J.F. O’Callaghan (Ashgate, 2015).

Index ʿAbd al Muʾmin ibn ʿAlī, 42 Abelard, Peter, 222, 227, 229, 231 Abia de las Torres, 65, 66 Abū Yaʿqūb Yūsuf (Yūsuf I), 119, 120, 122 Abū Zayd ʿAbd al-Rahmān ibn ʿUmar, 14 Acre, 41 Aelred of Rievaulx, 227 Afonso II of Portugal, 88, 90, 152 Afonso III of Portugal, 90, 91 Afonso Henriques of Portugal, 175 Aguilar de Campóo, 67 Ah.mad ibn ʿUmar al-Qurt.ubī, 222, 223, 225, 226, 229, 230, 232, 233 Aimeric of Peguilhan, 194 Alan of Lille, 233 Alarcos, Battle of, 3, 19, 20, 87, 105, 106, 110, 129, 146, 147, 151, 154, 155, 158, 160, 177, 188, 192 Alarilla, 103 Álava, 189 Alberic of Trois-Fontaines, 156 Albert the Great, 228 Alcalá de Henares, 18 Alcántara, Military Order of, 4, 105, 111 Alcaraz, 21 Alderico di Palacio, 178, 206, 207, 209 Alexander II, Pope, 118 Alexander III, Pope, 12, 121, 122, 126, 174, 176; Merore Pariter, 126, 176 Alexander of Hales, 228 Alexandria, 41, 43, 44 Alfambra, 15 Alfonso II of Aragon, 61, 175, 176, 185, 186, 188 Alfonso II, Count of Provence, 190 Alfonso VI of León, 118, 209; adoption of Roman Rite, 118; currency policy, 36–37 Alfonso VII of León-Castile, 11, 30, 41, 42, 60, 61, 63, 64, 85, 144, 186, 204; currency policy, 31, 33, 37; imperial titles and dominion, 15, 185; participation with the Second Crusade, 118; relations with the Church and Papacy, 175, 209; variety of issued coins, 31, 33 Alfonso VIII of Castile: at Alarcos, 3, 19, 87, 105, 127–31, 144, 147, 149, 158, 160, 177, 188; chancery of, 11–22, 68, 69, 72, 104, 110, 124, 125, 127, 130, 132, 133, 143; death of, 39, 44, 47,

84, 195; family of, 65, 66, 68, 70, 80–96, 107; at Huete, 120, 121, 175; and ideas of kingship, 11–22, 88, 89, 146, 176; at Las Navas, 1–7, 19, 21, 45, 107, 108, 130–33, 143–62, 172, 173, 177, 180, 185, 191–94; last will and testament of, 103, 104, 107, 174; marriage of, 5, 65–67, 81, 153, 186; minority of, 1,37, 60, 66, 68, 119, 122, 123, 146, 174, 186, 209; mints Arabic coins, 38–41, 155, 175; and the Plantagenets, 66, 85; regency for, 1, 119, 121, 122; at the Siege of Cuenca, 17, 38, 68, 69, 106, 122–26, 144, 176, 186; supports the school at Palencia, 6, 11, 215n20 Alfonso IX of León, 67, 70, 71, 72, 80, 83, 86, 90, 192; 1196 invasion of Toledo, 162, 177; marriage to Berenguela of Castile, 5, 67, 69, 70, 84, 92, 130, 177, 178, 179; as nemesis of Alfonso VIII, 3, 14, 152, 158, 162, 177, 193 Alfonso X of León-Castile, 3, 66, 93, 234; campaign for Holy Roman Emperor, 14; Cantigas de Santa Maria, 95; cortes of Seville (1281), 17; coinage regulations, 40, 41, 46; executions in 1277, 16; and the Infantazgo, 67, 73 Alfonso de Molina, 89 Alfonso de Aragon, son of James I and Leonor of Castile, 91 Alfonso, count of Provence (d. 1209), 186 a-Ghazālī, 221 al-Kindī, 222, 224 Al-Mahdiyya (Tunisia), 41 al-Marrākushī, ʿAbd al-Wāhid, 120, 121, 146 al-Mans.ūr, Yaʿqūb ibn Yūsuf, 128, 129, 188, 189, 144 Almeria, 31, 32, 41, 42 Almohad Caliphate, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 43, 119, 143–62, 221, 234; alliance with Alfonso IX, 121, 126, 130, 177, 192; alliance with Ermengol VIII of Urgell, 189, 192, 193; attacks on Castile, 19, 21, 22, 107, 120, 145, 188; borders with Castile, 106; overtaking Almoravids, 41, 42; truces with Castile, 122, 127, 131, 145, 146, 147, 154 Almoravids, 1, 38, 41, 42, 125, 175 al-Mustans.ir, Abū Yaʿqūb Yūsuf (II), 161 al-Nās.ir ibn al-Mansur, Muhammad, 143, 146, 147, 148, 149, 150, 153, 155, 160, 161, 191

245

246 index Alphonse de Poitiers, 45 Anselmo Garrio, 44 Aragon, Crown of (Aragon-Catalonia), 4, 5, 7, 18, 149, 152, 174, 176, 177, 185–95, 209; dynastic connections with royal family, 68, 80–86, 90–94; and monetary policy, 40–44; participation in Las Navas de Tolosa, 155, 160, 161 Arganzón, 17 Ariza, 191 Arnald Amalric, 152, 153, 157, 193 Arnaldo, bishop of Astorga, 31 Arnold, Physician of Alfonso VIII, 152, 153 Astorga, 67, 69, 70 Atienza, 32, 206 Augustine of Hippo, 225, 230 Ávila, 15, 16, 34; bishops of, 37; Chronicle of, 17 Ayala, Pedro López de, 16 Baeza, 3, 147, 160 Balearic Islands, 44 Barton, Simon, 3 Bazán, Martín, 205; as reader and judge, 13; election, 207; connection to San Millán de la Cogolla, 207 Beatrice of Swabia, 66, 67, 88, 90, 95 Belorado, 66 Berengaria of Navarre, 189 Berenguela, nun of Las Huelgas, 93 Berenguela, Queen of León, Queen of Castile, 5–6, 65–68, 80, 87, 90–92, 95, 96; betrothal to Conrad, 5, 66, 83, 86, 87, 89, 107; as feudal lord, 70, 71; as heir to Castile, 5, 82, 146, 151; letter to Blanca (Blanche) of Castile in 1212, 132; marriage to Alfonso IX of León, 5, 67, 69, 70, 84, 92, 130, 177–79; as regent for Henry I of Castile, 5, 91 Berenguela of Barcelona, 85 Bernard de Agen, 206 Bernard of Clairvaux, 111, 227 Bernardo of Osma, 206, 208 Bernat Desclot, 193 Bierzo, 67, 69 Blanca (Blanche) of Castile, 5, 6, 81, 83, 84, 91, 92, 94; daughter of Alfonso VIII, 5, 81, 83; letter to Berenguela, 132, 158, 193; mother of Louis IX and wife of Louis VIII, 5, 189 Blanca of Navarra, Infanta of Navarra, 62, 67 Blanca of Navarra, Queen of Castile, 60, 94; death during childbirth, 60, 85; mother of Alfonso VIII, 60, 85, 94 Blasquez, Domingo II, 206, 208

Blasquez, Domingo III, 206, 208 Blasquez, Sancho, Bishop of Ávila, 63, 206, 208 Bologna, University of, 15 Bonaventure, St., 228 Brecio of Plasencia, 206, 208 Burgos, 17, 66; Cortes (1169), 34; Denarius called “burgalés,” 46, 47; Fuero granted, 17 Bustillo, 86 Cáceres, 3, 102, 103 Cairo Geniza, 41 Calahorra, 37; bishops, 37–38 Calatayud, 189, 193 Calatrava, 148, 156, 158, 185, 207 Calatrava, Military Order, 4, 19, 102–11, 119, 125, 149, 150, 156, 157, 176, 177 Cardinal Octavian (Anti-Pope Victor IV), 174 Castro de los Judíos de Mayorga, 71 Castro family, 193; regency and custody of Alfonso VIII, 1, 60, 61 Castro, Álvaro Rodríguez de, 72 Castro, Fernando Rodriguez de, 34, 61 Castro, Pedro Fernández de, 192, 193 Castrogonzalo, 69, 70 Castrojeriz, 66 Castroverde, 70, 108 Cea, 60, 68 Celebruno de Poitiers, 206, 207, 209 Celestine III (Cardinal Hyacinth Bobone), 122, 125, 127–30, 176, 177, 188; legations to Iberian Peninsula, 33, 120, 175; lobbying Alfonso VII for monetary stability, 33, 45; promotion of Iberian Crusading, 120, 121, 144, 180 Ceuta, 42 Ceyón, 68 Charlemagne, 118 Chaucer, 178 Chillon, 102 Christopher Columbus, 30 Ciudad Rodrigo, 64 Clement III, 126, 127, 177 Compostela, Santiago de, 6 Conrad of Montferrat, 178 Conrad of Swabia, 5, 66, 83, 89; betrothal to Berenguela of Castile, 5, 66, 83, 86, 87, 107 Constance, Queen of Hungary and Queen of Sicily, 186 Constance of Burgundy, 85 Constantinople, 41, 45 Constanza, Infanta, 80, 81, 82, 83, 92, 93 Constanza, daughter of Berenguela, 93

index 247 Constanza, wife of Guillem Ramon de Montcada, 187 Consuerga, 104 Contreras, García Martínez de, 206, 208 Córdoba, 4, 5, 121 Covarrubias, 65, 66, 69 Coyanza (Valencia de Don Juan), 71 Crusades, 4, 7, 21, 88–90, 110; Albigensian Crusade, 157, 190, 194; crusade of Almeria, 30; crusade (1196) against Alfonso IX, 130, 177; indulgences, 121, 122, 132, 148, 152, 157, 174; First Crusade, 41; Fifth Crusade, 173; preaching and papal encouragement, 119, 120, 125, 131–33, 144, 145, 154, 172–73; Second Crusade, 118, 119, 126; Third Crusade, 126–27 Cuenca, 121, 122, 149, 151, 191; conquest of (1177), 17, 38, 68, 106, 118, 123–26, 144, 176, 186; foundation of diocese in 1182, 38, 176; Fuero of, 2, 3, 124, 127 Deizan, 102 Denia, 42 Diego d’Acebo, Bishop of Osma, 87, 194, 205, 208 Diego García de Camps (chancellor), 12, 13, 172 Domingo I of Ávila, 207, 208 Domingo of Plasencia, 206, 208 Domingo of Valladolid (notary), 12 Dominic of Osma, Saint, 194 Dulce of Aragon, nun in the Hospitaller convent at Sigena (d. 1189), 186 Dulce of León, daughter of Alfonso IX, 72 El Moral, Monastery of, 13, 64 Eleanor of Aquitaine, 5, 6, 65, 66, 85, 91, 192 Eleanor of Aragon, 186 Elvira, 86 England (Angevin Empire) 6, 129, 153, 174, 189, 190; dynastic connections with royal family, 5, 6, 34, 66, 85, 87, 151, 189, 190 Enrique I of Castile, 5, 14, 40, 80, 83; establishment of fair at Brihuega, 15; heir to Castile and Succession, 5, 88, 89, 91, 146, 151; untimely death, 5, 81, 88, 178 Ermengol VIII of Urgell, 189, 192, 193 Espechel, 20, 125 Estefanía, Nurse of Berenguela, 85–86 Estefanía Alfonso, 61, 65 Ferdinand, abbot of Montearagón (d. 1248), 186

Ferdinand, Infante of Portugal, 90 Ferdinand I of León, 85 Ferdinand II of León, 1, 103, 105, 121; cadetking of Galicia, 31–32, 60; currency policy, 33, 34, 37; as regent in Castile, 1, 14, 32, 60; relations with the Papacy, 174, 175; use of the Infantazgo, 61–65, 67, 68–69, 71, 72 Ferdinand III of Castile and León, 14, 66, 67, 91, 95, 210; currency policy, 40, 45, 46, 47; heir to political fortunes of Alfonso VIII, 3, 5, 6, 87, 88, 90; imperial aspirations and peninsular hegemony, 14, 62, 73, 161 Fernandez, Martín (chancellor), 11 Fernando, chaplain of Las Huelgas, 93 Fernando, Infante of Castile, 81, 84, 89, 95, 131, 150; death by fever, 83–84, 94, 151; heir to the kingdom of Castile, 86–87, 88, 89, 95; role in Las Navas de Tolosa, 87, 131, 145–50 Fernando Díaz of Santiago, 107 Fernando González of Burgos, 179, 205 Fierro, Maribel, 230, 234 Figuerola, Domingo, 37 Finojosa, Martín de, 205, 207, 208, 209 Finojosa, Rodrigo de, 179, 205, 208, 209 Fitero, 102 Fontevraud, 6 France, kingdom of, 6, 45, 152, 153, 174, 186, 231; Aragonese claims in the south of France, 189–94; dynastic connections with royal family, 80, 81, 84, 91, 132; French crusaders in Spain, 154–57 Frederick I Barbarossa, 5, 66, 126, 174 Frederick II, 45, 190 Frowin of Engelberg, 227 Fustat, 41 Gabés, 43 García of Osma, 206 Garcia Romeo, alférez of Peter II, 159 García Ruiz of Cuenca, 206, 207 Gascony, 192; Alfonso VIII’s conquest of, 96, 145; dowry of Leonor, Wife of Alfonso VIII, 189 Genoa, 41, 43 Geoffrey of Brittany, 151 Gerardo of Segovia, 131, 206; mission to Rome, 152, 153 Gerhoh of Reichersberg, 227 Germany (Holy Roman Empire), 5, 14, 126; dynastic connections with royal family, 83, 87, 90

248 index Ghana, 41 Gilbert de la Porée, 233 Giovanni Scriba, 42 Giraut de Bornelh, 194 Girón, Guttiere Rodriguez, 12, 205 Girón, Rodrigo Rodriguez de, 149 Goméz Ramirez of the Temple, 108 Gonzalo de Atienza of Sigüenza, 206, 208 Gonzalo Miguel, 205 Gonzalo of Segovia, 208 Gonzalo Pérez, 206, 207 Gozón, 69, 70 Gradefes, 71 Gregory, Cardinal-Deacon of Sant’Angelo, 127, 129, 177; Treaty of Tordehumos, 1194, 128 Gregory VII, Pope, 118 Gregory VIII, Pope (Cardinal Albert de Morra), 176 Gregory IX, Pope, 67 Guadalerzas, 149 Gudalajara, 149, 192 Guglielmo Cassinese, 43 Guglielmo Rataldo, 43, 44 Guilhem Ademar, 194 Guillem Ramón de Montcada, 187 Guillermo de Astafort of Toledo (chancellor), 11 Guillermo Gonzalo of Segovia, 63, 206, 207 Guipúzcoa, 190 Guiraldo de Calansó, 151 Guiraut of Calanson, 194 Gutierre Ermildi of the Hospital, 107 Hamilton, Bernard, 209 Haro, 67 Haro, Diego López de, 21, 89, 155; executor of Alfonso VIII’s Will, 89; interaction with Pastor de Las Navas, 159; leader of French forces at Las Navas de Tolosa, 155; as royal alférez, 149 Hattin, Battle of, 126, 129, 154, 176 Henry I of Castile. See Enrique I of Castile Henry II of England, 3, 5, 6, 34, 65, 85, 174 Henry of Champagne, 178 Henry the Young King, 151 Herman von Rein, 227 Honorius III (Cencius), 44 Hospital del Rey (Burgos), 6 Hospital, Military Order, 102, 103, 104, 105, 106, 108, 109, 110, 111, 120, 177 Huete,121, 149; 1172 siege of, 120, 175 Hugh de Lusignan, 87

Hugh of St. Victor, 222, 227, 228, 229, 231 Hughes de Fouilly, 227 Hugo Papazolla, 44 Ibeas, 13 Ibn ʿIdhārī, 107, 122, 146, 191 Ibn Abī Zarʿ, 146 Ibn Mardanīsh, Muhammad ibn Saʿd (King Lobo), 42, 43, 119, 120, 175; alliance with Castile, 42, 119, 121; coinage policy, 42; treaty with Genoa, 42 Ibn Qâdis, 156 Ibn S.āh.ib al-S.alā, 120, 121, 122 Ibn Tūmart, Almohad Caliph, 221, 226, 232, 234 Infantazgo, 59–73, 93, 178 Iniesta, 3 Innocent III, 3, 70, 131, 145, 146, 148, 149, 151, 153, 154, 177; Albigensian Crusade promotion, 190, 194; annulment of marriage between Berenguela of Casitle and Alfonso IX of León, 89, 130, 178, 189; correspondence with Infante Fernando, 131, 145, 148; De Miseria Humanae conditionis, 178; letter of Alfonso VIII to Innocent III, 107, 132, 143, 155, 172, 173, 180, 185; Quia Maior, 173 Isabel of Jerusalem, 178 Isabella of Castile, 30, 47; patronage of Christopher Columbus, 30 Jaén, 147 James I of Aragon, 68, 90, 186, 195; conquest of Valencia, 4; currency policy, 40, 44; Llibre dels Fets, 187; marriage to Leonor of Castile, 5, 81, 83, 84, 86, 90–94; quarrel with Alfonso X over imperial claims, 14 Jeanne of Ponthieu, 90, 91 Jeréz, 41 Jerusalem, 106, 126 Joan of England, 190 John I of England, 152, 189, 190, 192 John of Brienne, 90 Jordan, 43 Jordan of Saxony, 87 Joscelmo of Sigüenza, 205 Joyce, James, 178 Juan, Bishop of Osma, 206 Juan II of Ávila, 207, 208 Juan de Segovia/de Castellmorum, 34, 119, 174, 206, 209 Juan de Soria/Juan of Osma, 123, 145, 147, 150, 154, 155, 186, 187, 188, 191, 192, 194; Latin

index 249 Chronicle of the Kings of Castile, 72, 87, 89, 94, 123, 145, 146, 152, 153, 154, 156, 157, 161, 162 Juan Tellez, 205, 207 Juan Yáñez, 205, 207 Julián ben Tauro, 206, 207 La Rioja, 3, 5, 32 Lanfranc, 46 Lara family, 1, 91; control of regency, 60, 119, 122; holdings in Extremadura, 121–22 Lara, Alvaro Núñez de, 15, 88; royal alférez, 21 Lara, Gonzalo Núñez, 108 Lara, Manrique Pérez de, 119, 120, 121 Lara, Nuño Pérez de, 102, 121, 122 Lara, Pedro Manriquez de, 121 Las Huelgas de Burgos, 4, 6, 18, 68, 84, 86, 151; foundation and endowment by Alfonso VIII and Leonor, 4, 6, 18, 83, 92, 93; royal monastery and necropolis, 6, 80, 94–95, 96 Las Navas de Tolosa, Battle of, 1, 2, 4, 5, 7, 19, 21, 118, 143–62, 180, 185; involvement of Peter II of Aragon, 191, 193–95; participation of military orders, 107, 108, 110 Lateran, Fourth Council of the, 173 Lateran, Third Council of the, 126 León, kingdom of, 5, 14, 18, 30–32, 45–47, 121, 129, 192, 209; division from and conflict with Castile, 106, 107, 111, 130, 131, 149, 152, 158, 162, 174, 177, 188, 189, 193; dynastic connections with royal family, 60–73, 83–95 Leonor Plantagenet, 5, 34, 80–4, 91, 92, 93, 95, 153, 178, 186, 206, 208; arras holdings, 66, 67, 68; marriage to Alfonso VIII, 34, 65 Leonor, wife of James I, 5, 81, 83, 84, 86, 91, 92, 93, 94 Leonor of Aragon, 190 Leonor of Portugal, 90 Leopold, Duke of Austria, 161 Liber censuum, 44 Linehan, Peter, 30, 34, 119, 124, 174 Logroño, 17, 66; Fuero of, 17 Louis VII of France, 174 Louis VIII of France, 5, 90, 132, 189 Louis IX of France, 5 Lucas of Túy, 147, 152, 157 Lucius III, 176 Lugo, 14; closure of mint by Alfonso VII, 37 Madrid, 149 Mafalda, Infanta, 81, 83 Maimonides, 234

Majorca, 146, 190; Peter II’s campaign against, 146 Malaga, 41 Malagón, 19, 155, 156; donation by Alfonso VIII to Calatrava, 19; battle at, 155 Maltida, Empress and Queen of England, 85 Mansilla, 67, 70 Maqueda, 34 Maria, Nurse of Leonor, 86 Maria Perez, 64 Marie of Montpellier, 186, 190 Mark of Toledo, 221, 222, 226, 232, 233, 234 Marquis de Mondéjar, 2 Marrakesh, 42, 149, 161 Martín, Archbishop of Santiago, 63 Master Geraldo di Lombardo of Palencia (notary), 12, 15, 16, 18 Master Hugo (chancellor), 11 Master Juan (notary), 12 Master Mica (notary), 12, 20 Mathé, Juan, 206, 209 Mathé, Marino, 206, 209 Mathé, Mateo, 206, 209 Mauricio, Dean of Toledo and Bishop of Burgos, 206, 207–8, 221, 232, 233 Medina del Campo, 65, 66 Medina de Pomar, 17 Medina de Rioseco, 67, 68, 69; treaty (1181), 68, 69 Melendo, 205, 208 Melrose Abbey, 186 Meneses, Alfonso Téllez de, 149 Meneses, Tello Pérez de, 71 Meneses, Tello Téllez de, 131, 148, 208; mission to Rome for crusading legation, 148 Michael Scot, 233 Miguel of San Pedro de Arlanza, 206, 207 Millau, 190 “Miramolín,” 21; comparison to Lucifer, 21, 132 Monsalud, Cistercian Monastery of, 18 Montánchez, 150 Montearagón, 186 Montfrag, 105, 106 Mora, 103 Moratilla, 205 Morimond, 107 Mountjoy, 105, 106 Moya, 147, 148, 191 Muhammad, Prophet, 173, 223 Murcia, 41, 42 Muret, Battle of, 194, 195

250 index Nájera, 34 Navarre, kingdom of, 18, 40, 129, 188, 189, 205, 209; conflict with Castile, 3, 73, 146, 158, 160, 174, 177, 187, 192, 193; dynastic connections with royal family, 60–67 Ogerio, Genoese Merchant, 42 Ogerio Berizo, 43 Oreja, 102, 103 Osma, 37 Otto IV of Germany, 152 Oviedo, 69 Palencia, 6, 11, 15, 88; closure of mint, 37; Studium generalis, 6; University, 11 Pancorbo, 66, 67 Paris, 12, 45 Pedro (notary), 12 Pedro Arias of Santiago, 106, 108 Pedro Arias of the Hospital, 106 Pedro (Pere) de Cardona, 11, 15, 205; election to archiepiscopate of Toledo, 12, 207; innovations in chancery, 11; promotion to Cardinalate, 12 Pedro de Santa Cruz (notary), 12 Pedro Fernández of Santiago, 106 Pedro García de Lerma, 86 Pedro Instancio of Ávila, 208 Pedro of Mondoñedo, 63 Pedro Pérez of Burgos, 206 Pedro Ponce (notary), 12 Peire d’Alvernha, 194 Peire Vidal, 194 Peter II of Aragon, 4, 131, 177; at Las Navas de Tolosa, 143, 146, 148, 151, 152, 155, 158, 161; relationship with Alfonso VIII, 4, 15, 185–95 Peter Lombard, 227 Petrus de Rege, canon of Lleida, 187 Philip II Augustus, 129, 132, 153, 189 Philip II of Spain, 172, 173 Piedraescrita of Toledo, 44 Piedranegra, Castle of, 19 Pisuerga, Martín López de, 38, 128, 206, 208 Plasencia, 20, 204 Poema de Almeria, 119 Poitou, 45 Portugal, kingdom of, 18, 45, 137, 152, 174, 175; dynastic connections with royal family, 5, 80, 84, 88, 90, 91 Puerta de Bisagra, 20; Portazgo tax collected at, 20, 104 Puerto de Muradal, 158

Raimundo (chancellor), 11 Rainier of Ponza, 178 Ramon Berenguer IV, 42, 174, 185 Ramón de Minerva, Bishop of Palencia 63, 205, 208 Ramón Martí, 233, 234 Raymond VI of Toulouse, 173, 190 Raymond of Burgundy, 59 Rica of Poland, second wife of Alfonso VII, 61 Richard the Lionhearted, 129, 151, 189, 190 Richard of St. Victor, 228 Rincón de Ademuz, 191 Robert of Ketton, 226 Rodrigo Díaz of Calatrava, 108 Rodrigo Ximénez de Rada, 15, 72, 102, 108, 172, 177–79, 185, 186, 191–94; chancellor, 12, 21; De rebus Hispaniae, 123, 124, 125, 143, 148, 187; election to Archiepiscopate of Toledo, 205, 209; at Las Navas de Tolosa, 131–33, 143, 147, 150, 151, 152, 154, 156, 157, 159, 161; origins and training, 145, 233; patron of Arabic “school” at Toledo, 231, 232–34 Roger of Howden, 120, 177 Ronda, 105 Rosendo, Saint, 175 Sahagún, 32, 60; meeting between Sancho III and Ferdinand II, 32, 60; mint, 37 Saladin, 126, 129 Salceda, 71 Saldaña, 67 Salvatierra, 19, 104, 107, 148–51, 155, 158, 193 San Benet of Bages, 44 San Isidoro de León, 6, 70, 71 San Juan de Burgos, 13 San Juan of Ripoll, 44 San Julián del Pereiro, 20, 105; as original name for Order of Trujillo, 20 San Martín de Mazcuerras, 18 San Pedro de Eslonza, 70 San Pedro de Gumiel, 107 San Rosendo de Dumio, 175 San Zoil de Carrión, 15, 16, 34; knighting of Alfonso VIII in 1169, 34 Sancha (d. 1249), countesses of Toulouse, 186 Sancha Alfonsez, Queen of Aragon, 62, 175–76, 187, 188, 191 Sancha Alfonso II, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 67, 69 Sancha Alfonso III, 61, 65, 73, 80, 87 Sancha López, Nurse of Blanca, 86 Sancha of Aragon, 85 Sancha of León, 66

index 251 Sancha Ponce de Minerva, 86 Sancha Raimundez, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 69, 70, 71 Sánchez Valdés, García, 205 Sancho, Infante, 81, 82 Sancho I of Portugal, 90 Sancho II of Portugal, 90, 91 Sancho III of Castile, 1, 14, 15, 31–32, 60, 119; cadet-king of Nájera, 31–32; coinage issued, 47; father of Alfonso VIII, 32, 119, 175 Sancho IV of León-Castile, 46 Sancho VI of Navarra, 1, 61, 65, 187 Sancho VII of Navarra, 4, 152, 161, 189, 193; At Las Navas, 4, 143, 158, 192 Sancho Ramirez, 118 Santa Anastasia, 172 Santa Cruz de Juarros, 13 Santa Maria Maggiore, 172 Santa María of Ripoll, 44 Santi Apostoli, 172 Santiago, Military Order of, 19, 102–6, 108–11, 121, 122, 125, 126, 176 Sayyid Abū-l-ʿUlā, 146 Scarlet the dwarf, 178 Segovia, 34, 37; synod in 1166, 34, 119, 174 Sepúlveda, 18 Sevilla, 4, 17, 149, 150 Sierra de San Vicente, 149 Sigüenza, 204 Simon de Montfort, 194, 195 Soria, 37, 121, 205 Suero Rodriguez, 64 Talavera, 122, 149 Tantus (merchant), 42 Tarazona, 40 Temple, Military Order of, 102–5, 108–10, 120 Teresa of Portugal, 90, 178 Teruel, 193 Thibault I of Navarre, 62, 67 Thomas Aquinas, 228 Thomas Becket, 180 Tierra de Campos, 59–60, 62, 64, 66, 67 Toledo, 122; Fuero refundido, 34; gold morabetino, 38–40, 125, 155, 175; Mozarab population, 229; price decrees of 1207, 45; translation efforts at, 228–29

Tórtoles, Santa María of, 80, 83 Tortosa, 42 Tours, 45; 1163 council, 174 Tripoli, 41 Trujillo, Military Order of, 20, 105–7 Tudela, 40 Tyre, 41 Tyre, William of, 126 Úbeda, 147, 160, 191 Úcles, 4, 20, 103, 104, 107; donation by Alfonso VIII to Order of Santiago, 4, 103, 104; headquarters of Order of Santiago in Castile, 4, 20, 103, 125 Ulpian, Roman Jurist, 16 Urraca, Queen of León, 59, 66, 85 Urraca Alfonso, 61, 69, 70, 80, 83, 84, 86 Urraca of Portugal, 5, 64, 90, 91, 94 Valencia, 4, 42, 43, 44 Valladolid, 176, 206, 208; council of 1155, 175 Vega, 64, 69, 70 Vich, Monastery of, 44 Villafranca ,66, 70 Villalpando, 71 Villamelendro, 17 Villamoto, 64 Villarias, 64 Villasilia, 17 Werner of St. Blaise, 227 William of Auxerre, 227 William of Conches, 228 William of Sauri, 42–43 William of Tyre, 126 William Rataldo. See Guglielmo Rataldo Xátiva, 149 Yaʿqūb ibn Yūsuf, 144 Yagüe of Ávila, 207, 208 Yah.ya ibn ʿAdī, 224 Yah.yā ibn Jarīr, 225 Zamora, 121, 209 Zaragoza, 30, 193 Zengi, 126

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