The Crusades 1095-1197

by Jonathan Phillips

  9

  The Frankish rulers of the Levant: Power and succession, c. 1100-74

  Two of the most important issues for the rulers of the Latin States to confront were the establishment of their dynastic line and the maintenance of their authority over the nobility. These problems were familiar to other contemporary rulers, but the turbulent military situation in the Latin East and the settlers’ position as a minority of the Levantine population added significant pressures to the equation. The need to integrate newcomers (and their entourages) to the political life of the Frankish East was a further challenge. Most of the evidence concerning succession and authority pertains to the royal house of Jerusalem, but reference will be made to the circumstances in Antioch, Tripoli and Edessa as well.

  Succession and civil war: the problem of newcomers

  The issue of succession troubled all ruling houses in the medieval period. The Capetian dynasty of France, which had just six kings between 1060 and 1270, often operated ruthless divorce policies to ensure a male heir could be designated to succeed to the throne. This meant that challenges to an incoming king were rarer than in lands where the succession was not clear — the civil war that ravaged England between 1135 and 1153 was caused by the competing claims of Stephen of Blois and Henry I’s daughter, Mathilda. The rulers of Jerusalem found it particularly difficult to engineer smooth successions — partly as a consequence of genetics (the birth of female rather than male offspring), partly through personal ambition and partly because of sheer ill-fortune.

  Baldwin I’s succession opened up issues of relations with an outside power (Sicily) and the comparative strength of king and nobility. On Baldwin’s death the throne should, in theory, have passed to his nearest male relative, his brother, Count Eustace of Boulogne. Eustace, however, lived in western Europe and this provided an opportunity for another relative of the dead king, Count Baldwin of Edessa, to take the throne. William of Tyre was not entirely comfortable with this turn of events and he felt that this was ‘contrary to law, both human and divine’, but he also recognised the practical side of the situation and advanced the argument of the nobles of Jerusalem:

  The affairs of the realm and the exigencies constantly arising do not allow these delays or enable us to indulge in interregnums of this kind . . . haste is imperative . . . may measures for the good of the land be speedily taken. . . . If an emergency should arise there would be no one to lead the troops. . . . Thus, for lack of a leader the welfare of the kingdom would be endangered. (William of Tyre, tr. Babcock and Krey, 1943: 1. 519)

  Practicality triumphed and Baldwin was crowned, but it is evident that a faction among the nobility resented his accession. When, after the death of Prince Roger of Antioch in 1119, he was forced to act as regent of the principality some nobles felt that Baldwin was ignoring his responsibilities in Jerusalem and in 1123 they petitioned Count Charles the Good of Flanders to accept the throne. Charles declined the offer, but such an extraordinary move shows that the dynastic line of the ruling house of Jerusalem was far from settled.

  Baldwin’s own succession was a matter of debate because all four of his children were girls. The king and his nobles decided to ask Count Fulk V of Anjou to marry the eldest, Melisende and, as we saw above (pp. 34-5), Fulk agreed. The actual terms of this succession arrangement, and their possible modification, provide us with a fascinating insight into both the internal politics of the Frankish East and the writings of its most important historian, William of Tyre.

  It is clear that in 1134 there was a serious crisis in the kingdom of Jerusalem and a dispute between Fulk and Count Hugh of Jaffa resulted in civil war (Document 9). Hugh and his supporters made a treaty with the Muslims of Ascalon (who were only too happy to encourage such discord among the Franks) and by way of response the king marched south and besieged Jaffa. The agreement with a Muslim power must have made some of Hugh’s Frankish supporters uneasy and he was forced to come to terms. He was required to forfeit his lands and to go into exile for three years. As Hugh waited for a ship to take him abroad he was stabbed and badly wounded, an incident that was blamed squarely on Fulk and caused the bad feeling created by this episode to linger on. Once Hugh had recovered he went into exile in Apulia where he died. Several questions arise from this series of events. What had provoked the revolt? Why did Hugh escape with a sentence of exile for what was so clearly an act of treason? Why was Fulk so determined to kill Hugh? The most comprehensive source for these events is William of Tyre. He blamed Hugh — a handsome young man — for being on overly familiar terms with Queen Melisende. Tension between the count and the king grew and Hugh was accused of treason and conspiring against Fulk’s life. The matter was to be resolved through trial by combat, but Hugh ran away and, as we saw earlier, secured the support of the Ascalonites. The good work of the patriarch of Jerusalem resulted in an agreement that Hugh should be exiled, but after the stabbing the count gained much sympathy. William of Tyre wrote, ‘it was felt that the accusations made against him, of whatever nature, had proceeded entirely from malice’ (William of Tyre, tr. Babcock and Krey, 1943: 2.75). Fulk experienced great hostility, particularly from Queen Melisende who felt her reputation had been besmirched. It took considerable mediation to reconcile the two and, William wrote, from that time on ‘the king became so uxorious that . . . not even in unimportant cases did he take any measures without her knowledge and assistance’ (William of Tyre, tr. Babcock and Krey, 1943: 2. 76). On the surface, this account of events seems reasonable enough, although it should be noted that the episode took place before William was born and at a time when he does not appear to have been relying on any existing written source for his information. However, the evidence of a more contemporary author tells a different story (see Document 9 ii). Orderic Vitalis was an Anglo-Norman monk who compiled this section of his Ecclesiastical History between 1123 and 1137. Admittedly he did not travel to the Latin East, but through talking to returning pilgrims and crusaders he was well informed about events there. He argued that Fulk generated serious antagonism among the Jerusalem nobility through trying to promote his own men too quickly. This explanation has a more substantial feel to it than William of Tyre’s story of rumoured romance. Hugh was a close relative of the queen and it seems that he was the leader of a group of Levantine nobles who felt — as Orderic shows us — that Fulk was trying to usurp their power by bringing in newcomers who had not earned the right to such authority. The contemporary Damascene chronicler, Ibn al-Qalanisi, wrote: ‘Fulk was not sound in his judgement, nor was he successful in his administration’ (Ibn al-Qalanisi, tr. Gibb, 1932: 208). The sense that Fulk may have overstepped the mark is reinforced by the comparatively light punishment dealt out to Hugh, the fury that the king faced from Melisende and her partisans, and the way in which she — and by implication her followers — saw an increase in their influence in the aftermath of the attempted murder. Two final questions arise. Why had Fulk tried to advance his own men so unsubtly? And why did William of Tyre conceal the true reasons behind the conflict?

  When Fulk agreed to marry Melisende he did so on the understanding that he would be the sole heir to the throne once King Baldwin died. It seems, however, that on his deathbed, Baldwin altered these terms and gave the kingdom over to a triumvirate consisting of Fulk, Melisende and their infant son Baldwin (later Baldwin III). Thus, the level of Fulk’s power was reduced and he tried to get around this by bringing his own men into positions of influence at the expense of the native nobility. It was, therefore, a clash between the interests of the nobles of the Levant and those of the newcomers. But this created a paradox because while the westerners’ extra military strength was essential to the continued existence of the Latin East, the need to reward their territorial and political aspirations might damage the interests of the settlers themselves. If, as in this case, the assimilation of newcomers was handled poorly, then the tensions inherent within the situation could surface. William of Tyre probably chose to cover up the episode because
part of his purpose in writing was to show the royal house of Jerusalem in a positive light. This might persuade the people of the West to support the settlers and a detailed description of such internal dissent would do little to encourage this. Furthermore, a rebellion caused by native nobles resenting the arrival of westerners was hardly the appropriate message to send out as part of an effort to induce help from Europe. It is important to indicate that the vast majority of William of Tyre’s narrative is accurate, but we should always be aware of his agenda as a historian of, and for, the Latin East.

  In 1143 King Fulk died from serious head injuries sustained in a fall from a horse and the details of the succession are discussed above (pp. 37-8). When Baldwin III died childless in 1163, yet another dispute took place. The powerful Ibelin clan led the opposition to the succession of Baldwin’s brother, Amalric. Their hostility was based upon Amalric’s long-running relationship with, and then marriage to, Agnes of Courtenay, a noblewoman who was already married to their family member, Hugh of Ibelin. In the week after King Baldwin’s death there was serious tension, but a face-saving formula allowed Amalric and Agnes’s union to be dissolved on the grounds of consanguinity (they were very distantly related) rather than bigamy. The children of the marriage, Baldwin (IV to be) and Sibylla were declared legitimate because their parents were allegedly unaware of their blood-relation, and the more damaging issue of Amalric’s earlier marriage was swept under the carpet. Amalric died in 1174 and it is ironic that this was followed by the first smooth accession in the history of the kingdom of Jerusalem — that of the boy-leper, Baldwin IV, the ruler whose reign would ultimately see the most serious internal discord to date in the Latin kingdom of Jerusalem.

  Succession in the ruling houses of Edessa and Tripoli was reasonably trouble-free, but the principality of Antioch saw considerable unrest. In part this was because it faced the greatest and most sustained Muslim threat over the course of the twelfth century. In consequence, its leaders were often killed in battle (Roger in 1119, Bohemond II in 1130, Raymond in 1149), or held captive by the enemy (Bohemond I in 1100-3, Reynald in 1161-76). This meant that there was little chance to produce mature male heirs and this created ample scope for succession disputes. Regencies were commonplace and often led to unrest. The accession of Raymond in 1135 was particularly complicated and is an episode that also highlights the sometimes difficult relationship between the four Latin states. When Bohemond II died in 1130 he left his infant daughter, Constance, as heiress, but his widow Alice tried to usurp control for herself and attempted to prevent Baldwin II, who had come to help against the Muslims, from entering the city. In 1131-32 she repeated her defiance and this time gathered support from the counts of Edessa and Tripoli so three of the four Latin States stood ranged against King Fulk (Baldwin II had died in the interim). In 1132 and 1134 Fulk was forced to travel north to try to uphold Constance’s rights and to bring her mother to heel. Alice had a core of loyal supporters who were content for her to rule, but she was opposed by another faction who disliked the unrest that she brought. In 1134 the nobles prevailed upon Fulk to choose a husband for Constance and, ignoring possible Sicilian claims (through Bohemond II’s family) and Byzantine interests (the Greeks claimed overlordship of Antioch) he chose Raymond of Poitiers, son of the duke of Aquitaine.

  Raymond was of a distinguished background and had a crusading pedigree through his father, Duke William IX, who had taken part in the expedition of 1101. Fear of the Sicilians caused him to travel to the Levant in disguise, and once there he had two further obstacles to overcome. First was the opposition of Princess Alice. It seems, however, that a proposal to marry Constance to Manuel, a son of Emperor John Comnenus of Byzantium, alienated some of Alice’s adherents, particularly the patriarch, Ralph, whose position of religious pre-eminence would be damaged by any level of Greek involvement in the region. Ralph’s help would also surmount the second obstacle that faced Raymond, namely Constance’s age. She was only eight years old and according to canon law the minimum age of marriage was twelve. In light of the increasingly urgent military situation — in 1135 Zengi had taken five more important Frankish settlements in the north — the need for strong leadership was evermore apparent and the patriarch married Raymond to Constance in spite of the clear contravention of canon law. Pragmatism had triumphed over moral and theoretical niceties, and political expediency had dictated that the settlers should try to resolve their succession disputes as effectively as possible.

  The maintenance of authority over the Frankish nobility

  The relationship between the rulers and the nobility of Jerusalem has attracted much attention from historians over the years. In essence three views have evolved. First, in the 1930s the American scholar La Monte argued that the kings were very weak and the nobles dominated a submissive monarchy (La Monte, 1932). In the 1950s Richard and Prawer posited the opposite view and stressed the power of the monarchy (Richard, 1955; see collected works in Prawer, 1980), although Riley-Smith later modified this to present a slightly less weak nobility (Riley-Smith, 1973). In recent years Tibbie has looked at the subject afresh (Tibbie, 1989). He used charter evidence to augment the narrative and legal sources employed by earlier historians to reveal a strong and vigorous monarchy determined to dominate the nobility.

  The principal source for the notion of a powerful nobility is in the writings of the thirteenth-century lawyer, John of Ibelin. Tibbie argued that this information distorted the picture by representing a fixed relationship between crown and nobility (in favour of the nobles), when in fact there was a fluid framework within which the kings manipulated the feudal structure to their advantage. In essence, the system provided for grants of lands or rights in return for military service; the size and form of these grants dictated the power and standing of a particular noble. Tibbie suggests that the form and location of these grants were managed consistently enough to constitute a deliberate policy on the part of the crown. The process evolved as follows. The early years of the kingdom were marked by the formation of large lordships. Through this, the nobility could have had considerable power, but over the second and third decades of settlement this changed and it is possible to see how the monarchy began to assert itself. High mortality rates among the nobles and the financial drain caused by endless enemy raids gave the crown its opportunity because when a noble family died out, went bankrupt or rebelled, their lands would revert to the king. This enabled the monarch to reward his own supporters or to reorganise the shape and size of the fief. The principality of Galilee and the county of Jaffa were two of the larger lordships that had been created in the early years of the kingdom. The revolt of Hugh of Jaffa (1134) revealed that these big territories could pose a threat to the crown. This could be dealt with in a number of ways. First, the lordship might be split into smaller holdings, thus producing a new tier of nobles who, because of their relatively limited resources, would be of little threat to the monarchy. Galilee was an example of this where the holdings at Toron (1115), Nazareth (c. 1121) and Banyas (1128) were separated from the principality. A second way to curtail the danger from larger lordships was to follow Fulk’s policy after the revolt of Hugh of Jaffa when the land confiscated by the crown was retained by the royal house and not redistributed to other nobles. A third method of asserting royal control over the nobility was to give a lord a collection of fiefs dispersed over a broad geographical area which might help to curtail independent political action. An alternative was to offer land, but to retain some royal property within the territory, as in Transjordan where the castle of Wadi Musa remained under crown control. Finally, a fief could be created within the larger royal domain, as in the case of Blanchegarde which was located between the royal holdings of Jaffa and Jerusalem. In the course of the twelfth century the strength of many nobles within their own lands declined, often because of the growing financial burdens brought about by heavier enemy raids and the series of earthquakes that afflicted the Latin East. Properties needed to be sold off and incr
easing proportions of lordships came to be owned by the great churches of the Holy Land and the military orders. The rise of the military orders as powerful, well-financed institutions meant that they could purchase castles whose owners were in financial trouble. For example, in 1168, the French noble, Ivo of Velos, sold Belvoir to the Hospitallers for the substantial sum of 1,400 gold bezants.

  The manipulation of lordships was not the only way that a king could assert his rights over the nobility. Legal measures might have a similar effect and the most prominent among these was the assise sur la ligece, promulgated by King Amalric in c. 1166. This legislated that all vassals (known as rear-vassals) of the major lords should also pay liege homage (a personal bond) to the king as well. This established a direct link between the monarch and most fief-holders, thus bypassing the higher nobility. It meant that the king could turn to the rear-vassals for support if their lord was in conflict with him. The rear-vassals benefited because they could take complaints about their lord to the king, whereas previously the strength of the great nobles had enabled them to treat the rear-vassals as they had wished. The very fact that Amalric could implement such a measure indicates a position of some authority.

  In conclusion, the kings of Jerusalem seem to have developed in power down to the end of Amalric’s reign. The instability of Baldwin IV’s reign was brought about by the king’s illness and external threats, rather than an inherent weakness in royal authority. It was the issue of Baldwin’s succession that caused such trouble: had a mature, healthy ruler taken over in 1174 then, at least in terms of his relations with the nobility, he would have inherited a position of some strength.