Direct Power: Feudal Lords
Queen Melisende
Arguably no woman had more influence on the image and status of women in the crusader states than the first reigning queen of Jerusalem, Melisende. While her father opened the door for her by designating her as his heir, a different woman might have squandered this opportunity to exercise power or failed to set a precedent of female competence in a traditionally male role. Melisende neither neglected nor misused her rare opportunity.
As we have seen from the narrative description of Melisende’s reign, her authority was almost immediately challenged by her older and politically more experienced husband, Fulk d’Anjou. At her father’s death, Fulk stopped including her in his charters, ignored her advice and opinions and generally disregarded her status as co-monarch; i.e., he attempted to rule on his own. It is unclear if Melisende and the High Court would have tolerated this situation indefinitely if Fulk had not, in the third year of their joint reign, also sought to discredit his wife by accusing her of an affair with her cousin, Hugh of Jaffa, one of the most powerful of the local barons. The king’s motives are unknown, although historians speculate that Fulk favoured Angevin lords over the local barons and possibly sought to install a son from his first marriage as his heir, thereby disinheriting his son by Melisende, Baldwin III.
Whatever his intentions, the attack on Melisende’s honour, or the threat to her son, provoked a vigorous response. Rather than becoming a victim of her husband’s intrigue and disappearing from history, Melisende rallied baronial and clerical support. Even when her chief supporter, the Count of Jaffa, made the tactical blunder of forming an alliance with the Saracens, Melisende’s position was not weakened. The High Court found Jaffa guilty of treason yet sentenced him only to three years of exile, possibly in recognition of the extenuating circumstances that had driven him into that alliance – i.e., the king’s actions. Hugh’s assassination before he could leave the kingdom provoked even greater outrage from local elites who assumed the king was behind the murder.
Fulk had hopelessly overplayed his hand. The contemporary chroniclers, most notably William of Tyre, report that henceforth, Fulk recognised he must scrupulously respect Melisende’s rights as hereditary queen – or risk losing his crown. Yet we know nothing about how Melisende brought about this change of attitude or how she managed to rally nearly unanimous support among her powerful subjects in her confrontation with her spouse.
Equally intriguing, Melisende did not seek revenge or humiliation for her consort after her victory. Having re-established her position as co-monarch, Melisende showed herself as gracious. Not only were Fulk and Melisende reconciled enough to have a second son, but they became an extremely effective team who divided the responsibilities of ruling between them. Erin Jordan, writing in the Royal Studies Journal, notes that:
‘Gender norms that divided the various duties associated with ruling, reserving military action for men, were not detrimental to female participation in government. The frequent and extended absences of the king from the royal court in Jerusalem which resulted from his preoccupation with military activity could easily have strained the administration of domestic affairs … [Instead] the constant presence of the queen at court curbed any such disruption in the routine governing’.53
Presumably, Melisende’s competence in dealing with the kingdom’s internal affairs won her the enduring respect of her subjects, or at least the more sober and responsible of them. Indeed, her reputation spread all the way to France, where none other than the renowned abbot, St Bernard of Clairvaux – by far the most influential cleric of the age – received favourable reports about Melisende’s wisdom and judgement from the Knights Templar. It is worth pausing to reflect on that: The Knights Templar, a militant monastic order that forbade all contact between its members and females, reported favourably to the founder of the Cistercian Order about a woman’s rule. This prompted St Bernard to address himself to Melisende directly, saying he had learned that:
‘You are behaving peacefully and kindly; that you are ruling yourself and the kingdom wisely with the advice of wise men; that you love the Brothers of the Temple and are on friendly terms with them; and that, according to the wisdom given you by God, you are providently and wisely meeting the dangers which threaten the Holy Land with sound counsels and help’.54
St Bernard, although a reformer, is generally viewed as a conservative. Yet here he demonstratively indicated no discomfort with a woman exercising supreme executive secular power over the kingdom with responsibility for, as he stressed, the protection of the most sacred sites in all of Christendom.
Another influential cleric, William Archbishop of Tyre, was equally laudatory of Melisende’s rule. Tyre was later chancellor of the kingdom and is the principal source for Melisende’s clashes with her husband Fulk and her eldest son Baldwin III. In both instances, Tyre sides with Melisende against her male co-monarchs. This is particularly important in the case of Baldwin III, whom Tyre otherwise depicts as an exemplary king. Indeed, Tyre casts Baldwin’s conflict with his mother almost as an immature youth briefly led astray by bad company. He writes:
‘Melisende, the king’s mother, was a woman of great wisdom who had much experience in all kinds of secular matters. … As long as her son was willing to be ruled by her wise counsel, the people enjoyed a highly desirable state of tranquillity, and the affairs of the realm prospered. But the more frivolous elements in the kingdom soon found the queen’s wise influence hindered their attempts to draw the king into their own pursuits’.55
Such an interpretation of events, despite the grave risks to the kingdom brought about by Baldwin briefly tearing the kingdom in two and laying siege to his mother in the Tower of David, is possible because, again, there was no permanent breach between the co-monarchs. Instead, Melisende managed a rapprochement even after her humiliating defeat. Far from disappearing into a convent or obscurity, Melisende remained active in the Kingdom of Jerusalem long after her son had violently asserted his right to a more dominant role. As had been the case with Fulk, the more engaged Baldwin III became in military affairs, the more Melisende exerted her leading role in internal policy. This included important negotiations with the Pisans concerning their rights in Tyre, issuing charters, settling disputes, dispensing patronage, conducting marriage negotiations (notably with the Byzantine Emperor), and, most strikingly, dispatching royal troops to attack a Muslim-controlled fortress on the Jordon River. All this was done by Melisende after her short but forceful clash with Baldwin III. Furthermore, these are not nominal acts; they represent the very essence of royal power.
In short, after her victory over Fulk and her defeat at the hands of her son, Melisende understood how to re-establish amicable relations with her co-monarch to such a degree that she remained in possession of real political power. Furthermore, she exercised that authority so effectively that she retained the loyalty of her subjects and the respect of contemporary, clerical commentators. At her death, William of Tyre reflected on her reign as follows:
‘Queen Melisende, a woman of unusual wisdom and discretion, fell ill of an incurable disease for which there was no help except death. … For thirty years and more, during the lifetime of her husband as well as afterwards in the reign of her son, Melisende had governed the kingdom with strength surpassing that of most women. Her rule had been wise and judicious’.56
Queen Sibylla
No such praise can be found for the next ruling queen, Sibylla. Yet while Sibylla was anything but wise or judicious, she undoubtedly – if inconsistently – exercised the full powers of her office. After being widowed very young in 1177, she chose her next husband without the consent of the High Court and clung to him despite dramatic efforts by her brother, King Baldwin IV, and the High Court to pressure her into a divorce. More spectacularly still, she cajoled a minority of the bishops and barons into crowning her without the consent of the full High Court. In other words, she usurped the throne. Significantly, this minority faction was only prepared to back Sibylla’s usurpation if she set aside her unpopular husband, Guy de Lusignan. Sibylla agreed to comply, setting one condition of her own: that she choose her next husband. No sooner was she crowned, however, than she declared that her next husband was the same as her last husband, namely Guy de Lusignan. When the patriarch of Jerusalem, until this point, one of her staunch supporters, balked at crowning Guy, Sibylla, in a dramatic demonstration of regal power, crowned Guy herself.
There was no precedent in Jerusalem for monarchs crowning monarchs. In fact, it was not recognised anywhere in the world at this time as a legitimate procedure. In short, Guy’s coronation not only followed a usurpation, it was itself fraudulent. Yet, curiously, once it was done, it was widely accepted. To be sure, a majority of the High Court sought to counter Sibylla’s coup by crowning Sibylla’s younger sister Isabella as the legitimate monarch. However, as described earlier, the High Court lost heart and accepted Sibylla’s fait accompli when Isabella’s weak husband rushed to do homage to Sibylla and Guy. Only two barons (Tripoli and Ramla) refused homage because they did not recognise Sibylla’s legitimacy. In other words, Sibylla got away with snatching a crown for herself in violation of the laws and customs of the kingdom and with imposing her candidate for king upon her subjects as well – despite near universal opposition to him as an individual. Those are not the actions of a chattel or pawn; they demonstrate just how powerful Queen Sibylla of Jerusalem was.
Isabella d’Ibelin, Lady of Beirut
The power of heiresses was not confined to the ruling queens. Baronial heiresses in the crusader kingdoms also demonstrated their independence and power, as the case of Isabella of Beirut demonstrates. Isabella d’Ibelin succeeded to the barony of Beirut in 1264 on the death of her father, John II d’Ibelin of Beirut. She was 12 years old.
Before focusing on her exercise of power, it is useful to remember the context in which she lived. When she came into her inheritance, the titular king of Jerusalem was the 12-year-old grandson of Frederick II, a youth who, like his father, had never set foot in the kingdom. The Mongols, on the other hand, had captured Baghdad, Aleppo and Damascus, before being defeated by the Mamluks at the battle of Ain Jalut in 1260. The following year, in 1261, the Latins lost control of Constantinople. Before Isabella had held her fief a full year, the Mamluks had taken Caesarea, Haifa and Arsuf, cutting the Kingdom of Jerusalem in half. Two years after she succeeded to her fief, the Mamluks had overrun Galilee and expelled the Templars from the fortress of Safed. In short, Isabella came of age in an environment in which the enemies of the crusader states were gathering at the gates.
Isabella was betrothed to King Hugh II of Cyprus shortly after coming into her estate. Although he was a prince roughly her own age, he was dead two years later. Rather than becoming queen consort of Cyprus, Isabella remained the ‘lady’ – that is, the feudal lord of Beirut.
On 9 May 1269, at 16 years, Isabella made the dramatic decision to conclude a separate truce with the Mamluk Sultan Baybars. She may have been reviving or continuing the policy of her father, John of Beirut II, who had also dabbled with separate truces in 1263. However, in Isabella’s case, the truce was for an entire decade. Meanwhile, the last of the Hohenstaufen kings had been executed by Charles d’Anjou, and there were two rival claimants to the crown of Jerusalem. Neither seemed interested in Beirut, so Isabella continued to rule unimpeded and, surprisingly, unmarried.
It was not until 1272, when Isabella was already 20, that she married a second time. Her husband was not imposed on her by her feudal overlord, the king. Instead, she married an English Marcher Lord known only in the records of Outremer as Haymo Letrange (i.e., the stranger). Within a year, he was dead, leaving Isabella a widow again with neither an heir nor a husband to fulfil the military obligations of her fief.
Yet it was not until 1277, when Isabella was 25, that Hugh III of Cyprus appears to have remembered her. He tardily decided to enforce his rights as her feudal overlord by demanding her marriage in accordance with the customs of the kingdom. He forced her to accompany him to Cyprus, but Isabella was not cowed. She demanded a judgement of the High Court, and, significantly, this was granted her. She defended herself with the extraordinary argument that the terms of her truce with Sultan Baybars made him, rather than Hugh, her feudal overlord. In a dramatic decision about which we know far too little, the High Court sided with Isabella. The High Court of Cyprus officially recognised a Mamluk sultan rather than a Christian king as the overlord of Beirut, thereby denying Hugh the right to insist upon Isabella’s marriage.
Thereafter, Isabella enjoyed an escort of Mamluks to protect her from further interference from Hugh III. She returned to Beirut and promptly married the titular lord of Caesarea. Unfortunately for her, he was a hothead engaged in a feud with the Ibelins. After assassinating one of the many John d’Ibelins living at this time, he was murdered in revenge by the brother of the man he had killed. The latter happened to be the Constable of Cyprus, which (rightly or not) put him at an advantage before the law. His vengeance-killing was neither condemned nor punished.
Meanwhile, Isabella was once again a widow. She married one last time to William Barlais and died childless of unknown causes in 1282. She was succeeded as Lady of Beirut by her sister Eschiva d’Ibelin.
Although the historical record focuses unsurprisingly on Isabella’s dramatic and successful plea before the High Court that resulted in recognition of a Muslim sultan rather than a Christian king as her overlord, the untold story behind that dramatic event is that of a woman who ruled her barony independently for the greater part of the eighteen years she held the fief. In those years, she did more than fend off unwanted marriages and conclude a separate truce with the archenemy. She also conducted all the barony’s routine domestic business, from granting charters and extending patronage to sitting in judgement in the baronial court, commanding the garrison and overseeing the baronial exchequer.
Delegated Power: Consorts and Regents
Alice of Antioch, Regent for Constance of Antioch
Turning to the second kind of female power, that derived from a woman’s spouse or children, the most spectacular example in the history of the crusader states was arguably that of Alice of Antioch, the second daughter of Baldwin II and his Armenian wife, Morphia. Alice was born c.1110. In 1126, at age 16, she married the Prince of Antioch, Bohemond II. She was given the coastal lordships of Latakia and Jabala as her dowery and dower. Only four years later, when Alice was roughly 20 years old, Bohemond II was killed, leaving her a widow with a 2-year-old infant daughter, Constance. As Constance was the heiress to the principality, Alice was free from the duty to remarry. Since Constance was still so small, however, the ever-vulnerable principality needed a regent capable of leading the feudal armies until Constant came of age or married.
Despite Alice’s youth, as a princess of Jerusalem and mother of the heiress, there was nothing inherently absurd about Alice assuming the regency of Antioch for Constance until her marriage. Instead, Alice was shunted aside, first by her father, Baldwin II, and then by her brother-in-law, Fulk d’Anjou. The conventional explanation is that Alice, unlike her elder sister Queen Melisende, had a bad and untrustworthy character.
Historian Thomas Asbridge has convincingly challenged this popular narrative.57 Asbridge suggests that, at the time of Bohemond’s death, the High Court of Antioch was not as united in its opposition to Alice as is usually assumed. He notes that several key figures, such as the patriarch and the constable of the kingdom, appear to have sided with Alice. The majority, however, were less interested in legal technicalities and more concerned with effective government and defence. The 20-year-old Alice might have been the logical and legal regent, but she could not lead armies.
For the majority of Antioch’s feudal elite, rule by a young woman while trusting in a truce with a notoriously treacherous enemy appeared a risky option compared to rule by a strong military leader such as Baldwin II. The latter was familiar and tested, which made him trusted as well. The majority faction, favouring a strong military leader, sent to Baldwin II requesting that he resume the regency he had ably held during the minority and absence of the late Bohemond II.
Baldwin II responded promptly to the appeal of the Antiochene nobility, riding north personally to see to affairs in the principality. Although Alice initially ordered the city gates closed against him, she did not resort to force. When supporters of the king inside the city opened the gates to him, she was persuaded to submit to him peaceably. According to Tyre, Baldwin II was initially ‘indignant’ with his daughter, yet he does not appear to have found her conduct outrageous. He advised her to retire to her generous and prosperous dower lands, the coastal lordships of Latakia and Jabala, which does not suggest he viewed his second daughter as fundamentally evil, irresponsible or dangerous.
Two years later, however, Baldwin II died and was succeeded by Fulk d’Anjou. Asbridge suggests this opened a welcome opportunity for the Counts of Tripoli and Edessa to assert greater autonomy from Jerusalem. The two counts, however, needed support from Antioch, which geographically separated them and formed the largest of the three crusader states outside the Kingdom of Jerusalem. United the three northern crusader states stood a fair chance of ending their de facto – albeit not de jure – subservience to the kings of Jerusalem.
Alice joined forces with Tripoli and Edessa, and Tyre acknowledged that she had the support of many Antiochene nobles in doing so. Other historians suggest that growing dissatisfaction with Fulk’s rule enabled Alice to become a focal point for subjects opposed to the increasingly unpopular Angevin. Thus, Alice’s court at Latakia attracted, in addition to Tripoli and Edessa, the rebels Hugh of Jaffa and Ralph of Fantanelle from Jerusalem. There is no evidence, however, that she was the ringleader of the rebels or that she induced them to rebel against their better judgement. On the contrary, the disaffected lords and autonomous counts may have exploited her youth and inexperience for their purposes. Certainly, her actions at this point were in no way indicative of plans to disinherit her daughter. The most that can be said with certainty was that she was a 22-year-old princess eager to control her destiny.
Unfortunately for Alice, Tripoli was defeated in the field by Fulk, weakening her coalition significantly. At the same time, Fulk, with the help of the feudal army of Antioch, defeated a Muslim threat lead by the sultan of Aleppo. This later event swayed public opinion in Antioch back in Fulk’s favour. Yet, Alice continued to build her power base on the coast. There, she established a princely administration complete with chanceries, constables and other household officials – and steadfastly styled herself as the Princess of Antioch.
In the autumn of 1135, five years after the death of her husband, she rode back into Antioch and assumed the role of regent without protest on the part of the High Court, the Church or the population. Significantly, this occurred after Fulk’s attempt to sideline Melisende had failed. It is hard to imagine that Alice’s move in 1135 was not coordinated and approved by her sister Queen Melisende in advance. It appears that Melisende, now firmly back in the saddle, told her husband not to interfere in her sister’s affairs, and Fulk obeyed.
