Miracles, martyrs and the cult of Henry the crusader in Lisbon.
Keywords. Crusades; cult; martyrdom; Henry the Crusader
Resumo. Em 1147, uma frota de cruzados com destino a Terra Santa prestou auxilio aos Portugueses para conquistar Lisboa aos mouros. No decurso do cerco resultante varios cruzados estrangeiros foram mortos, sendo estabelecidos cemiterios particulares para receber os seus restos mortais. Muitos dos seus companheiros consideravam a morte no combate pela fe uma forma de martirio, crenca esta reforcada por boatos da ocorrencia de milagres relacionados com os supostos martires. Com o decorrer do tempo desenvolveu-se um culto dos 'santos' cruzados, centrado no mosteiro de Sao Vicente de Fora. As reaccoes variadas dos habitantes e dos visitantes ao local permitem um olhar invulgar sobre o sentido das cruzadas como elas foram vividas pelos proprios participantes, assim como sobre o impacto do ideario das cruzadas em Portugal.
Palavras chave. Cruzadas; culto; martirio; Henrique o Cruzado
The church of Sao Vicente de Fora in Lisbon, founded in the twelfth century as an Augustinian monastery, was completely rebuilt between 1582 and 1629. Long recognized as a centrepiece of the Portuguese cultural patrimony, this imposing structure is both a triumph of the Mannerist architectural style and a testimony to the wealth and power of the Portuguese clergy during the glory days of empire. (1) In a quiet side chapel, just off the central nave, can be found a discrete stone block marking the tomb of a foreign knight known only as 'Henry'. This simple monument identifies Henry as one of the Jerusalem-bound crusaders killed in the summer of 1147 while wresting the city of Lisbon from Muslim control. The capture of Lisbon was the only real Christian success of the Second Crusade and so has become relatively well known. Less widely studied, however, is the remarkable religious cult that subsequently grew up around Henry and his fallen comrades. Death in battle against non-Christians was for the crusaders a highly meritorious act and many of them believed that a series of miraculous events at Henry's grave confirmed his status as a true martyr. Surviving eyewitness accounts, written by Anglo-Norman, Germanic, Flemish and Portuguese authors, provide an unusually nuanced description of the establishment and growing popularity of Sao Vicente de Fora's cult of Henry the crusader. Not only do these accounts reveal the shrine to have been an important point of contact between the fledgling kingdom of Portugal and the wider Latin Christian world, they also offer an intriguing insight into the development of the crusade and the transference of crusading ideology into the Iberian Peninsula.
The Northern Crusaders in Portugal: Frustrated Pilgrims or Holy Warriors?
Early crusaders most commonly spoke of themselves as peregrini--pilgrims--and in doing so reflected an essential ambiguity in the journey they had undertaken. The twelfth-century crusade was an ill-defined concept. (2) Contemporary writers provided only nebulous descriptions of the new form of militant spirituality arising in their midst; nor was there a general consensus, even among the crusaders themselves, about the meaning and purpose of their own actions. To become a crusader was a life-altering decision that might be influenced by personal beliefs, social status, geographical location, or a host of other factors. This certainly seems to have been the case in 1147, for during the four tense months of combat around the walls of Lisbon the attackers revealed a broad range of fears, hopes and preconceptions. Eyewitness accounts emphasize the many, sometimes contradictory, motives of individual participants. Yet just as these accounts highlight the complexities of the crusading impulse, so too they offer a means to separate at least some of its twisted strands. For the development of the cult of crusader martyrs at Sao Vicente de Fora can provide a unique vantage point from which to assess some of the deepest attitudes motivating the crusaders of the twelfth and early thirteenth century.
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When Pope Urban II (1088-99) declared the First Crusade at Clermont, in 1095, the response was spectacular. The heady offer of spiritual reward for pursuing the call to arms reverberated across much of the Latin Christian world, but at its core lay a fusion of two quite contrary ideas of pilgrimage and holy war. (3) Pilgrimage was an ancient and well understood means of obtaining spiritual benefit, and while the geography of the sacred abounded with holy places to be reached after long travail, the pinnacle of pilgrim ambitions was the holy city of Jerusalem. (4) The justification for holy war, on the other hand, rested on more contentious theoretical grounds. Churchmen of the reform papacy had long advocated the ideal of a united Christian people, an identity based on religious belief, as opposed to the more localized feudal loyalties of secular society. From the ecclesiastical point of view the highest calling for a knight, indeed the central obligation of knighthood itself, was to defend the entire Christian community. Yet this premise was by no means clearly understood, much less accepted, by all participants; and Jonathan Riley-Smith sounds a note of caution in ascribing wider motives to the early crusaders: Crusaders knew that they had been summoned to fight a war-pilgrimage on God's behalf--indeed they claimed their decisions to take the cross had been made under divine inspiration--and the liberation of Jerusalem was their goal from the start, but they were far more interested in freeing the place than in the sufferings of the eastern Christians [...] for them as individuals the crusade was only secondarily about benefiting the Church of Christianity; it was primarily about benefiting themselves. (5)
The early crusaders thus present a rather confused picture in which, regardless of Pope Urban's actual intentions, the participants focused their efforts on reaching the city of Jerusalem. This tension between the roles of pilgrim and holy warrior was exacerbated still further when crusaders were called upon to direct their religious fervour away from the Holy Land and toward the Iberian Peninsula.
Even before the council of Clermont, the Holy See had attempted to support the military efforts of Spanish Christians through the provision of spiritual benefits to bolster frontier defences, or by encouraging French knights to assist in Spanish campaigns. (6) Following the success of the First Crusade these efforts were redoubled, and the conceptual link between the Spanish and Palestinian campaigns strengthened. By the time of the First Lateran Council (1123), the assembled churchmen were able to agree that vows taken for the defence of either Spain or the Holy Land should be equally binding. (7) Spiritual rewards comparable to those offered for the defence of Jerusalem were granted to participants--be they Iberian, French or Italian--in Spanish-led campaigns against Muslim strongholds in the Balearic Islands, along the Mediterranean coast, and in the Ebro Valley. Ecclesiastical enthusiasm for holy war reached a peak in 1145, with the declaration of the Second Crusade by Pope Eugenius III, (1145-53). Many of the personalities behind this effort, most notably Bernard of Clairvaux, appear to have envisaged the expedition not as an armed pilgrimage, but rather as a coordinated Christian campaign against enemies on all sides. (8) Ecclesiastical assurances were one thing, however; a widespread acceptance of this vision by the secular knighthood was quite another. Despite the efforts of the senior clergy to equate the journey to Jerusalem with other theatres of operations, including those in Spain, in practice many pilgrims remained uncertain. Bishop Pedro Pitoes of Porto (1146-52), who welcomed the newly arrived crusaders to Portugal in 1147, recognized these lingering doubts in the men before him and attempted to meet them directly:
To you the mother church, as it were with her arms cut off and her face disfigured, appeals for help; she seeks vengeance at your hands for the blood of her sons [...] Therefore, be not seduced by the desire to press on with the journey which you have begun; for the praiseworthy thing is not to have been to Jerusalem, but to have lived a good life on the way; for you cannot arrive there except in the performance of [God's] works. (9)
Bishop Pedro then put the ecclesiastical conception of the crusade to the sternest of tests by instructing his impromptu congregation that 'God's work' would be to join with local Portuguese troops in an attack on Muslim-held Lisbon.
The bishop's audience was a fractious one and not all of them were easily swayed. The crusader fleet was in fact a conglomerate force made up of contingents from across northern Europe. While the German and Flemish soldiers reacted positively to the Portuguese request, a number of the Anglo-Normans, particularly the English, were strident in their opposition. (10) Uppermost among their concerns was a distrust for the Portuguese leader, the self-proclaimed king Afonso Henriques (1128-85), but they also argued that the prevailing easterly winds could not last, and that more lucrative opportunities for piracy would be found closer to Jerusalem. The argument became so heated that it seemed the Anglo-Norman contingent might ultimately be forced to break up. For beneath the readily apparent issues of xenophobic animosity and hope for material gain there seems to have been an undercurrent of feeling among the English that their primary concern as pilgrims should be to reach the Holy Land, and that wayside operations in obedience to the tenets of holy war were not in themselves adequate justification for delay. Was it then piety or cupidity that lay behind this dispute? The reaction of the different groups to the very real possibility of dying before the walls of Lisbon can bring us closer to an answer to this critical question.
Many of the northern mariners considered those of their comrades who were killed during the siege to be martyrs. This was a conviction that had wide implications. A belief in martyrdom for the faith lay at the very centre of conventional Medieval piety, yet traditionally this form of spiritual commitment had been a passive act in the face of deadly persecution. The 'aggressive martyrdom' of the holy warrior was a more problematic concept. Early popes had faced many enemies and they used various forms of exhortation and encouragement to rouse soldiers to the defence of the Holy See. During the late eleventh century, reformist popes had sought to bind secular knights more closely to their cause, and conspicuously rewarded those who died in their service. One early and highly controversial example was Erlembaud, the violent leader of the Pataria movement in Milan. Erlembaud, an enthusiastic supporter of Pope Gregory VII (1073-85), was killed in 1075 while battling the pope's ecclesiastical enemies. Gregory declared the fallen knight a martyr and gave papal countenance to the tales of miracles occurring at his tomb. Two decades later, in 1095, Pope Urban II reinforced the martyr's status by arranging to have his 'relics' transferred to Rome. (11) The declaration of the First Crusade in that same year gave the question of the spiritual status of soldiers killed in battle against the pope's enemies an even greater urgency. (12) Yet there was no simple answer. Although the relationship between the fallen crusader and the more traditional martyr quickly blurred, an important distinction did remain. The reward enjoyed by crusaders, whether construed by the individual as a remission of sins or merely of penance, was in effect a papal promise that drew on the authority of the pontiff himself. (13) The crown of the martyr, on the other hand, was a privilege granted directly from heaven. It was a special status that could only be made manifest by the type of miracle Colin Morris has termed 'visionary insurance'. (14)
This distinction between papal promise and divine demonstration has important implications when applied to the cult of crusading martyrs at Lisbon. Unlike the martyr status accorded to Erlembaud by Pope Gregory (which appears to have had blatantly political ends), the veneration of the martyrs at Lisbon was a grassroots expression of popular piety. It was the comrades of the crusaders, rather than the senior ecclesiastics accompanying them, who first drew attention to the miraculous occurrences at Henry's grave. Moreover, even though the cult never gained official recognition outside Lisbon, a belief that the fallen soldiers were martyrs was tantamount to an endorsement of the papal conception of the crusade. For if 'visionary insurance' proved to surviving soldiers that their comrades were secure in paradise, it also provided the highest possible sanction for those who believed that their duty as crusaders went beyond the successful completion of pilgrimage to include an obligation to assist threatened co-religionists along the way. What is less clear, however, is the degree to which the various contingents who took part in the siege actually believed that the miracles had occurred.
The Creation of a Cult: Eyewitness Accounts of the Miraculous
Once all the newly arrived crusaders were at last reconciled to the idea of assisting the Portuguese, and a formal agreement had been reached with Afonso Henriques concerning the terms of their association, the besieging armies took up position around Lisbon. The Anglo-Normans established a camp to the west of the city, the Germans and Flemish to the east, and Portuguese royal troops were stationed to the north. On 1 July 1147 the attack began in earnest; and the crusaders suffered their first casualties. Cemeteries for the fallen soldiers were laid out close to their respective camps and two commemorative churches--Santa Maria dos Martires for the Anglo-Normans and Sao Vicente de Fora for the Germans and Flemish--were subsequently constructed to honour the dead. Reports of a number of miraculous events at Sao Vicente de Fora soon began to enliven the routine of camp life. Yet just as specific groups of crusaders had reacted differently to the Portuguese plea for assistance, so too the claims that marvels had been witnessed in the cemetery to the east of the city did not meet with immediate or universal acceptance.
The miracles attributed to the crusader martyrs all took place around the German and Flemish graves, and descriptions written by compatriots of the fallen soldiers recalled these events in some detail. Three letters penned by Germanic crusaders at Lisbon are extant, although they are similar enough to suggest that some form of collusion took place in their composition. The briefest of these communiques, sent by Winand to Archbishop Arnold of Cologne, concludes on the satisfying note of victory. Susan Edgington has argued convincingly that Winand's letter was in fact the original, and was subsequently used as a model by the two other authors. (15) One of these derivative texts was sent by Arnulf to Bishop Mio of Therouanne; and the second, by Duodechin of Lahnstein, was addressed to Abbot Cuno of Disibodenburg. (16) Arnulf and Duodechin both added details and personal glosses to Winand's basic text, extending their narratives beyond the fall of the city to include descriptions of the marvels that took place within the crusaders' camp. Because each of these authors described the miracles using quite distinctive language, it seems likely that, here at least, they did not draw upon a common source, or upon each other, to complete their accounts. Indeed Duodechin readily reveals his own source of information, for he claims to have witnessed these events with his own eyes and touched with his own hands.
From their separate perspectives Duodechin and Arnulf provided almost identical accounts of the miracles in the cemetery. Duodechin recalled the burial of the fallen soldiers, 'our martyrs' (martirum nostrorum) as he called them, and described the subsequent appearance to the faithful of mysterious nocturnal lights around the newly dug graves. The resulting spiritual excitement rose even higher when two men who had been mute since birth were miraculously healed. Duodechin noted with considerable satisfaction the dates on which these marvels took place. The first miracle occurred on 10 October, the feast day of St Gereon, a soldier-saint much revered in Cologne. The second mute was healed on the first day of November, All Saints Day. (17) Arnulf, for his part, recorded much the same series of events, although he added the further information that the second mute received a vision in which a glorious figure led him by the hand to the martyr's tomb, there to receive his blessing. Arnulf was in complete agreement with Duodechin on points such as the dates when these events took place, and he also sought to portray the martyrs as their close comrades (fratrum nostrorum). (18) Similarly, neither author betrayed any doubts concerning the spiritual rewards enjoyed by their comrades or the correctness of the decision to fight in Lisbon--in this respect it is also significant that only Duodechin felt the need to extend his account to include their ultimate arrival in the Holy Land. (19) This high level of confidence in the legitimacy of their cause presents a striking contrast to the more ambivalent impression given by an Anglo-Norman account of the same events.
The Anglo-Norman perspective at Lisbon was revealed in an extended letter that has come to be known as De expugnatione Lyxbonensi [The Conquest of Lisbon]. The identity of the author of this letter has been the subject of a long-running debate, but Harold Livermore's suggestion of an Anglo-Norman priest named Raol has been widely accepted. (20) The description provided by Raol of the marvellous events that took place within the camp is significantly different to that found in the letters of either Arnulf or Duodechin. Raol briefly noted the foundation of cemeteries outside Lisbon and the construction of churches to commemorate the fallen crusaders. The healing of two mutes during the siege warranted only a few terse words and Raol did not elaborate at all on the circumstances surrounding these events. Certainly the healing of the two crusaders was not attributed to the intervention of their martyred comrades (indeed, 'martyr' is not a term that Raol used). Instead he saved his attention for another series of miraculous events altogether.
In the final days of the siege the camp was disturbed by unnerving portents when the bread used by the Flemings to celebrate the Mass appeared to be permeated with blood. This terrifying omen continued for a number of days, even after the city had fallen, and Raol recalled the reaction of his Anglo-Norman comrades:
Some, interpreting it, said that this fierce and indomitable people [i.e. the Flemings], covetous of the goods of others, although at the moment under the guise of pilgrimage and religion, had not put away the thirst for human blood. (21)
This portent, then, led at least some of the Anglo-Normans to conclude that warfare against the Muslims could not be viewed as in itself meritorious--in effect, their acceptance of this miracle of the bloodied bread brought them to a diametrically opposite view to that reached by the Germans and Flemish on the basis of the miracles attributed to the martyrs. Indeed Raol's suggestion is that, due to the temptations of greed, the actions of the crusaders at Lisbon might even be injurious to their own spiritual well-being. That the goods taken were held by Muslims in no way excused their forcible seizure from the stain of covetousness, even when the booty was to be used to support the pious action of pilgrimage.
A commonly held, if sometimes unstated, opinion concerning the author of the De expugnatione Lyxbonensi is that he was himself in favour of the crusaders' decision to undertake the siege of Lisbon, and that his sympathies lay with those who believed it was their duty to assist the Portuguese in the attack. Harold Livermore has gone so far as to suggest that the letter itself was written in an attempt to justify the decision to delay their pilgrimage at the siege. (22) However a consideration of Raol's unusual treatment of the miraculous events within the camp reveals a more equivocal attitude behind his work. The descriptions of these events by Arnulf and Duodechin make it clear that news of the miraculous healings spread rapidly throughout the crusading armies, yet Raol barely mentions this excitement, despite the support a miracle-working martyr would undoubtedly provide any effort to justify the decision to remain in Lisbon. This is even more surprising given that the second of the healings took place on All Saint's Day, a festival that had special significance for the Anglo-Norman contingent. On this day, as Raol himself records, the English priest Gilbert of Hastings was elected bishop of the newly captured city of Lisbon. Yet the healing of a mute crusader, which could so easily have been construed as divine approbation for this event, was passed over in silence. (23) Instead, when Raol alludes to the miraculous, far from using supernatural events to establish the justice of the crusaders' own cause, the striking image of the bloodstained bread actually highlighted the essential tension that lay at the heart of crusading ideology itself. Raol, then, in common with many of his Anglo-Norman comrades, seems to have harboured many unresolved doubts concerning his experiences in Portugal.
In the crucible of the siege of Lisbon two distinct attitudes toward the practice of the crusade emerged: the German and Flemish mariners eagerly accepted the Portuguese request for assistance and were prepared to believe that martyrdom would be the reward for those who fell during the attack; however many of the Anglo-Normans appeared more tentative, displaying deep reservations about any halt in their pilgrimage, and doubts as to whether military operations at Lisbon could be morally justified. How are such fundamental differences to be explained? One reason for the divergent attitudes between the Anglo-Norman and the continental crusaders may well have been the degree of contact the general populations in the two regions had had with the most recent developments in crusading ideology. Bernard of Clairvaux, the force behind recruitment for the Second Crusade, embarked on extensive personal preaching tours of both Flanders and the Rhineland, but was unable to cross the Channel. (24) Hence, while the Germans and Flemish were exposed to the newest waves of ecclesiastical thinking, the English remained relatively insulated from these influences. Indeed, the bishop of Porto recognized this and praised the Anglo-Normans for embarking 'without the urging of any preacher, with the zeal of the law of God in their hearts, led by the impulse of the Holy Spirit'. (25) Perhaps for this very reason their conception of the crusade was an older one, in which a more traditional emphasis on pilgrimage had by no means been subsumed into the clerically sanctioned violence of holy war.
What then of the other Christian force participating in the attack on Lisbon? Prior to the Second Crusade senior Portuguese ecclesiastics exchanged messages and possibly gifts with Bernard of Clairvaux in his role as head and spiritual leader of the Cistercian order. Nevertheless, recent suggestions that Bernard's contacts with Portugal were more profound, extending even into collusion with Afonso Henriques in his expansionist plans, seem to have been overstated. While such contacts were theoretically possible, with a number of individuals known to have made the long journey over the Pyrenees, the hypothesis of close communication between Bernard and the king of Portugal rests rather precariously on a single document, usually referred to as letter no. 308, the authenticity of which has not been universally accepted. (26) Moreover those individuals who did make journeys to the courts of Europe were primarily senior ecclesiastics. There is no evidence of local preaching tours being undertaken and it would seem likely that the only direct exposure the majority of Portuguese had to the developing ideology of the crusade was from their interaction with the visiting crusaders themselves. In the face of the confusing, even self-contradictory, beliefs displayed by the different contingents of the northern fleet, how might the local Portuguese have responded?
Although no strictly contemporary description of the siege of Lisbon from the Portuguese perspective survives, it is possible to glimpse something of local attitudes through the prism of Raol's account. The De expugnatione Lyxbonensi describes an embassy Afonso Henriques sent to the citizens of Lisbon in an effort to secure their surrender through negotiation. The ambassadors adopted a legalistic rather than a sectarian approach, appealing to nebulous claims of prior ownership and the pragmatics of realpolitik. Yet perhaps most revealing is the unequivocal rejection of this offer which Raol attributes to a Muslim elder:
Labelling your ambition zeal for righteousness, you misrepresent vices as virtues. For you greed has already grown to such proportions that base deeds not only please you but even delight you [...] you adjudge us to exile and destitution in order that you may become famous. (27)
To some onlookers, Raol among them, rather than being impelled by either piety or ideology, Afonso Henriques simply pursued his own longstanding, expansionist ambitions. For in common with many frontier communities, the Portuguese adopted in practice a ready pragmatism when dealing with non-Christian groups. To Afonso and his subjects, their Muslim neighbours were no more mysterious or alien than were the crusaders themselves. A detailed knowledge of Muslim language and customs had proved decisive in a Portuguese surprise attack on nearby Santarem in March 1147; furthermore Afonso was punctilious in abiding by agreements made with Muslim leaders, and through the use of such treaties was able to effectively isolate Lisbon from outside support. (28) Overall, throughout the siege, the Portuguese were wary of extreme measures and quick to attempt compromise wherever possible. It seems likely, therefore, that their attitude toward the crusader saints would have been more akin to that of the sceptical Anglo-Normans than the fervent Flemings and Germans. As time passed, however, and the presence of the crusader saints became more familiar, there are indications that these attitudes began to converge.
The Indiculum fundationis S. Vincentii: A Sea-Change in Portuguese Attitudes?
Following the fall of Lisbon the majority of the crusader fleet sailed eastwards, laden with the spoils of victory. Behind them they left an indelible mark on Portuguese history. The capture of the city was a watershed moment in the Portuguese reconquista and secured the River Tagus as the new frontier with the Islamic world. A more subtle legacy was left by those crusaders who remained in Portugal--whether by choice, such as Bishop Gilbert, or as venerated martyrs, continuing to attract worshippers to Sao Vicente de Fora. Increased exposure to Latin Christian attitudes appears to have had a significant effect on the perceptions of some local people. The depth of this change is highlighted by a description of the crusader martyrs written in Portugal toward the end of the twelfth century. Although eyewitnesses accounts by the Anglo-Norman and Teutonic authors have come to be preferred as sources for events in 1147, the locally produced Indiculum fundationis S. Vicentii does provide an important insight into Portuguese attitudes toward the crusade in the late 1180s, a time of rapidly rising European-wide concern for the future of the Holy Land. (29)
The Indiculum fundationis S. Vincentii was written at Sao Vicente de Fora and describes the foundation of the monastery as a memorial to the fallen crusaders. While the author remained carefully unassuming concerning his own identity, he was precise in recording the details of composition. He claims to have completed the work in 1188, during the third year of the reign of King Sancho I (1185-1211) and under the authority of Prior Paio Goncales. Despite the author's precision, this dating has been questioned due to his omission of any reference to the sensational events that took place some fifteen years earlier. (30) In 1173, Afonso Henriques, buoyed by military and political success, had resolved to discover the burial place of the original Sao Vicente and restore his relics to Lisbon. However, his success led to an acrimonious dispute between the bishop of the city and the canons of Sao Vicente de Fora over where the saint's bones should eventually rest. After a bitter test of local influence, Afonso finally declared in favour of the cathedral; one can only imagine the feelings of the canons as they watched their eponymous saint being conveyed by jubilant citizens into the bishop's care. (31) Yet does the absence of any mention of these tumultuous events actually prove that the earliest sections of the Indiculum fundationis S. Vincentii were composed prior to 1173? There is every possibility that this reticence was in fact a deliberate act. Rather than linger over the bitter dregs of failure the author seems to have chosen to concentrate instead on those 'saints' to whom his house could lay uncontested claim. Taken in this context, the date of composition becomes highly significant. In 1188 a new wave of crusading fervour sweep across Europe following the loss of Jerusalem to Saladin's victorious Muslim armies the previous year. It seems only natural that the canons of Sao Vicente de Fora would at such a time compile a chronicle emphasizing their own links with the suddenly incandescent crusading movement.
On what, then, did the author of the Indiculum fundationis S. Vincentii base his account of the events that had occurred over four decades earlier? Although he makes no claim to first-hand knowledge of the siege of Lisbon, he was able to interview two eyewitnesses, the Portuguese nobleman Fernando Peres and an elderly German canon named Otho, to ensure the accuracy of his work. (32) No mention is made of any contemporary written accounts and it seems highly unlikely that he had access to the letters written by Duodechin, Arnulf or Raol (which had been sent to their intended recipients decades earlier). He was nevertheless able to use the sources that were available to describe all the same events as his predecessors, along with a considerable amount of additional material. The attitude he reveals toward the crusade is more fervent than the Anglo-Norman; indeed it is more fervent than the Germanic! He described in some detail the commitment and courage of the fallen crusaders, who 'for the love of Christ, though mortally wounded, fought on to the death'. He allowed no hint of doubt that these soldiers had been rewarded for their steadfastness with the crown of martyrdom. (33) In addition, unlike the earlier Germanic and Anglo-Norman authors, the Portuguese chronicler was able to identify--and so to humanize--one of the martyrs as Henry of Bonn, a knight serving with the contingent from Cologne. According to the Portuguese account, this Henry was a man of gentle birth and upright bearing. After his courageous death during the siege his grave became the focus for the miraculous events that followed.
Two prodigies recounted by the Anglo-Norman and Germanic correspondents were also described by the Portuguese author, yet with significant additional gloss. In each case the author of the Indiculum fundationis S. Vincentii quite clearly sought to reinforce the status of the fallen soldiers as crusaders and true martyrs. The first and most sensational of the miracles to occur in the cemetery of Sao Vicente de Fora, the healing of the two mutes, was recalled in the letters of Arnulf, Duodechin and Raol. The Portuguese account includes a more elaborate version of the story in which the two fortunate youths were in fact loyally guarding Henry's tomb. During the night they received a vision of the martyred crusader bearing a palm frond, the symbol of pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Henry asked that they continue their vigil and then freed them from their congenital infirmities. In an interesting aside the anonymous author of the Indiculum fundationis S. Vincentii noted that the youths were French, rather than German, thus emphasizing that Henry of Bonn was not bound by the petty rivalries and parochial attitudes of other crusaders. Similar themes emerge in a second story. Although neither Arnuf or Duodechin recorded the portent of the bloodstained sacramental bread, Raol vividly recalled the Anglo-Norman belief that this was a divine warning to the more bloodthirsty of the crusaders, whose covetous nature had overcome their religious motivation. By the time the author of the Indiculum fundationis S. Vincentii came to write his account, a different explanation had emerged. In this version of the story, when the troubled priest investigated the terrifying phenomenon further, the source of the 'blood' was eventually traced to a store of discoloured grain. Since this grain had been the gift of a recently killed crusader, the miraculously bleeding bread could now be interpreted as a sign of his martyrdom. (34)
The nuances the Portuguese author applied to his account of those events also described by his predecessors suggest a total acceptance of the crusading ideology, and this attitude is equally apparent in two miracle-stories he related that were unknown to the earlier correspondents. The first concerns Henry of Bonn's squire. Soon after Henry's death the squire, whose name went unrecorded, also fell in battle against the defenders of Lisbon and was buried in the cemetery at Sao Vicente de Fora. Unfortunately, in the post-battle confusion and haste to decently inter the fallen, the squire was buried some distance from his lord. This omission was soon rectified when the martyr appeared to the cemetery custodian in a series of dreams, each more insistent that the one before, until the faithful squire was relocated to a plot beside his master. The second story describes a miraculous event that took place some time after the capture of the city; and once again, the miracle has a definite crusading aspect to it.
A palm frond, such as pilgrims take onto their shoulders in Jerusalem, was placed at the head of [Henry's] tomb, and after a short while it sprouted living from the earth. This grew taller and became a tree, clad in vigorous foliage. All who were ill came to the tomb to ask for succour and took pieces from the palm, which they suspended around their necks or ground into powder to drink; and immediately they were cured of whatever infirmity troubled them. [The palm] stood there, so those who had seen it reported, until the hands of the sick had taken it all away. But there are some who say that when nobody was on guard it was secretly uprooted and transplanted elsewhere. (35)
The repetition of the palm motif had powerful symbolic reverberations. Such palm fronds were originally gathered by supplicants in the Garden of Abraham, but by the end of the twelfth century a whole street in Jerusalem was given over to the selling of fronds to newly arrived pilgrims. So prevalent was this practice that returning crusaders came to be known as 'Palmers'. (36) Moreover the highly visible presence of the monastery of Sao Vicente de Fora and the church of Santa Maria dos Martires became in themselves constant symbols to visitors, and indeed to the local Portuguese population, of the spiritual dimension to the pursuit of holy war. To what extent, however, were these ideas more widely accepted? Only a few short months after the probable date of the compilation of Indiculum fundationis S. Vincentii another major crusading effort brought sizeable contingents of foreign soldiers to Portugal. Although they professed the ideology of the crusade, their actions were certainly not in accord with those the anonymous author in Lisbon sought to idealize.
Toward the end of 1187 the momentous news that Jerusalem and almost all of the Holy Land had fallen under Muslim control reverberated around Europe. Christian dismay rapidly transformed into a renewed zeal for holy warfare and this outpouring of energy was soon channelled into a new military expedition to the east: the Third Crusade. As had been the case four decades earlier, many of the crusaders chose the sea-route to Jerusalem. As they passed along the Portuguese coastline a number of these maritime crusaders were inveigled into local campaigns. The crusaders met with mixed success, and their actions suggest that basic tensions still remained at the heart of the crusade when applied in Iberia. Early in the summer of 1189 thirty-six ships from Holland and Germany reached Portugal. The author of the short account of their adventures provides only a bare description of the city of Lisbon. He did not elaborate on the successes of his predecessors, perhaps for good reason. The Portuguese enlisted the newcomers' aid in an attack on the southern city of Silves and even though the attack itself was a success, considerable acrimony subsequently arose between the mariners and their Portuguese hosts. As one of the visiting crusaders recalled:
With the city taken the [Portuguese] king endeavoured to secure from us the foodstuffs, which were abundant and of greater value than any other thing, as his share. Yet because we had forbidden anything to be taken from the city, so that we could divide the booty there, some of our men, particularly the men of Flanders, secretly sold grain outside the walls to the Portuguese. This greatly angered the king, who declared that it would be better not to have captured the city than to lose it through lack of bread [...] in fact the king took all for himself and distributed nothing to us. So the crusaders, having been treated so badly, took their leave of the king with less friendship. (37)
While on one level this disagreement was a relatively petty squabble over the spoils of the city, the dispute was exacerbated by differing attitudes toward the crusade itself. The Portuguese king sought to emphasize the obligations of the crusaders to the ideals of holy war: their duty, he implied, was not simply to take the city, but also to leave it adequately supplied to resist counter attack. For the crusaders, however, the imperative was only indirectly financial. Their justification for delay was to secure the means to continue their pilgrimage to Jerusalem. For them, the defence or extension of Christendom was a secondary aim, at best. Similar tensions and miscommunications continued to hamper relations between the Portuguese and the maritime crusaders when further fleets arrived the following year.
In the twelve months that followed the departure of the disgruntled victors at Silves the strategic situation in Portugal changed dramatically. In response to Portuguese provocations the Almohad caliph, Abu Yusuf Ya'qub al Mansur (1184-99), crossed over from Africa at the head of a huge Muslim army. Into this fraught situation, even as the Portuguese were being forced back into a desperate defence, came new fleets of maritime crusaders. The harbinger of these timely potential reinforcements was a lone ship bearing a crew of Englishmen. This vessel had been separated from the main London flotilla during a fierce storm in the Bay of Biscay and the crew had already experienced a brush with the supernatural when in the midst of the tempest their city's special patron, St Thomas, had appeared in a vision to console them. The awe-struck and weather-beaten sailors were able to make landfall at Silves, although so lost had they become that they were unsure if the city was in Muslim or Christian hands. They were right to be concerned: the local citizens were close to panic in the face of the Almohad threat. Bishop Nicholas of Silves (1189-91), a Flemish clergyman and himself a crusader from the previous year, immediately petitioned the new arrivals for aid. Yet despite their own visionary experiences during the crossing and the dire situation faced by their fellow Christians in Silves, it seems that the crusaders might well have refused to lend their assistance. Any departure was prevented, however, when the desperate citizens of Silves took matters into their own hands by forcibly scuttling the crusaders' ship. Only after receiving a guarantee of a replacement vessel and compensation did the crusaders agree to take their places on the battlements. (38)
Meanwhile the remaining nine ships of the London flotilla also managed to weather the storm and had come safely to Lisbon. Like their compatriots, they found a scene of confusion as local forces attempted to resist the Muslim incursion. The bulk of the caliph's army had marched north from Silves to press their attack across the Tagus River and King Sancho was faced with the task of rallying the defenders of both Lisbon and Santarem. Roger of Hoveden recounted with evident pride that five hundred of the boldest and most adventurous of the crusaders agreed to march inland to succour the wavering citizens of Santarem. 'They preferred to die in battle for the name of Jesus Christ,' it was claimed, 'than to see his people slain.' (39) Nevertheless, Roger does not seek to mask the fact that not all of the available English soldiers joined this courageous expedition. A significant percentage of the new arrivals apparently remained in their ships and refused to be persuaded that their duty as crusaders included an obligation to assist the beleaguered Portuguese. (40) In the event the brave few proved sufficient for the cause. A dogged defence by the Templar garrison at Tomar broke the momentum of the Muslim campaign, and with supplies dwindling and disease depleting his army the caliph was forced to withdraw southwards. Meanwhile the crusaders, though not called upon to put their commitment to the ultimate test, had nevertheless earned the goodwill of Sancho and his people, along with a promise from the king that his gratitude would find concrete expression. (41)
Unfortunately this convivial atmosphere was not to last. The arrival at Lisbon of sixty-three additional English ships was initially welcomed by the Portuguese, but the new arrivals proved to be ungracious guests, and soon abandoned their self-restraint in the unfamiliar streets. Groups of unruly crusaders were bemused to discover Moorish and Jewish minorities living peacefully within the city; and so promptly assaulted and robbed them. This violence quickly escalated into a general riot. When news reached Santarem, King Sancho hurried back down the river to protect his Muslim and Jewish subjects. Order was gradually restored and Sancho, who was no doubt still mindful of the assistance he had received from the earlier crusaders, merely obliged the rioters to swear oaths to keep the local peace. Three days later a second dispute degenerated into another violent street brawl. This time the Portuguese king acted more forcefully: the city gates were closed and all English within the walls were arrested. Some seven hundred crusaders were gaoled, to be released only after returning all goods and arms stolen, and swearing once again to act peaceably in all the ports of the kingdom. On 24 July the fleet sailed onwards to the Holy Land, leaving a decidedly mixed reaction among the Portuguese to this most recent manifestation of crusading fervour. (42)
If the conquest of Lisbon in 1147 highlighted the equivocal attitudes many of the participants in the Second Crusade held toward the nature of crusading itself, four decades later a new generation of crusaders demonstrated that many of these same tensions still remained very close to the surface. The anonymous author of the Indiculum fundationis S. Vincentii clearly sought to celebrate the links between Sao Vicente de Fora and the crusade, and in doing so constructed a carefully embroidered account, portraying Henry of Bonn as a quintessential crusader and a true martyr. In the world outside the monastery walls, however, attitudes appeared to be far more complicated. The people of Lisbon remained tolerant of other faith groups and accepted sizeable Muslim and Jewish communities into their society. Portuguese leaders understood the nature of the crusade, but their own fervour was tempered with the pragmatism born of a greater familiarity with non-Christian cultures. The northern crusaders, for their part, continued to display a significant variety of attitudes towards their own actions. Some among them were prepared to fight the crusade on an Iberian front and could be convinced by an effective preacher that violence in defence of threatened Christians was meritorious in itself. Many others, though, retained the doubts of their predecessors and for them pilgrimage to Jerusalem still remained their primary objective. Nevertheless, the crusade continued to evolve, as did popular reactions to it, in the decades that followed.
The Thirteenth Century and Beyond
The riotous attack on Lisbon's Muslim and Jewish minorities was the last recorded action by English crusaders in Portugal, and it is a sad irony that this chapter of Anglo-Portuguese relations closed with a mob of hooligans being forcibly loaded back into their ships and ordered to leave the city that their predecessors had helped to capture. Yet these turbulent Englishmen were not the final contingent of maritime crusaders to visit Portugal, nor did the cult of Henry of Bonn lose its relevance for their successors. In July 1217 a fleet from Frisia and the Rhineland bound for the Fifth Crusade paused in the Tagus estuary to repair their vessels and restore their crews. While in Lisbon, many of them visited Sao Vicente de Fora and knelt in reverence at the shrine of the crusader martyrs. Nevertheless, when the local Portuguese once again sought to enlist the aid of the newcomers in a military operation against the Muslims, the crusaders were unable to agree on an appropriate response. The resulting dispute within the crusader fleet was recorded by several eyewitnesses and reveals much about thirteenth-century crusading ideology, particularly when considered in light of the general willingness to accept Henry of Bonn's exalted spiritual status.
The Fifth Crusade had been the work of Pope Innocent III, (1198-1216). Few pontiffs could rival him in crusading zeal and even after the Fourth Crusade had been controversially diverted into the conquest of Christian Constantinople in 1204, Innocent remained hopeful that another major effort might still be directed toward Palestine. For over a decade he sought to turn European attention eastwards until at last, in 1215, the Lateran Council endorsed papal plans for a major expedition to restore Jerusalem. The result was the Fifth Crusade. In May 1217 a large flotilla of Frisian and Rhenish ships set sail for the East to rendezvous with other contingents from across Europe. Several eyewitness accounts of their eventful journey were produced. (43) The metred Gosuini de expugnatione Salaciae carmen and the Gesta crucigerorum Rhenanorum reflect the experiences of the German contingent, while the Frisian perspective is represented by the De itinere Frisonum. (44) The latter, which provides the most detailed description of the city of Lisbon, was included in a chronicle compiled in the Premonstratensian monastery of Bloemhof, near the town of Wittewierum in Groningen, by Abbot Emo (d. 1237). The anonymous Frisian crusader recalled his positive first impression of the shrine to Henry of Bonn thus:
To the east, outside the city, is a venerable cenobium where a beautiful palm rose into the air from the sepulchre of a martyr of Christ and leader of the Christian soldiers, Lord Popteto Ulvinga, who had changed his name to Henry. Seventy years ago, along with his squire, he ended life in Christ; and has been canonized by divine revelation. (45)
Where did the Frisian author come by the information that Henry had originally been known as Popteto Ulvinga? Although no clarification is provided, the most likely explanation would seem to be that Henry's alternative name was common knowledge at his shrine. Why then was this important fact omitted by the author of Indiculum fundationis S. Vincentii? Rohricht notes that 'Popteto Ulvinga' means 'son of the wolf' and Armando de Sousa Pereira may be correct in linking this name to the sacred rites of the early Germanic tribes. (46) Could it be that the earlier author found such a connection incompatible with the image of the perfect crusader he wished to create? In any event, it was as Henry of Bonn that the German crusader came to be considered a martyr, and the soldiers of the Fifth Crusade betrayed no doubts at all that he had gained the reward of paradise for his service in Portugal. They were less certain, however, when it came to the legitimacy of emulating his actions seven decades later.
On their arrival at Lisbon the crusaders were met by a Portuguese delegation consisting of Bishop Soeiro Viegas of Lisbon (1210-32), Bishop Soeiro II of Evora (1205-29) and local representatives of the military orders. (47) The bishop of Lisbon greeted the new arrivals with a sermon that culminated in a proposal for a joint attack on the nearby Muslim stronghold of Alcacer do Sal. While the three extant descriptions are in broad agreement on the sequence of events, each emphasized distinct aspects of the Portuguese request and of the crusaders' response. In the more florid of the accounts, the Gosuini de expungnatione Salaciae Carmen, Bishop Soeiro explained to the crusaders that the fortress of Alcacer was the key to the defence of Muslim Spain and so adept had its garrison become in raiding the surrounding countryside that they were able to send an annual tribute of one hundred Christian prisoners to the Almohad caliph in Morocco. The bishop added for good measure that, since travelling conditions to the East were worsening, the prudent course would be to turn the necessary winter delay into a worthwhile sojourn in Portugal. The Gesta crucigerorum Rhenanorum, while in accord over most of these details, diverged slightly by emphasizing the contribution made by the crusader leaders themselves to the argument for attacking Alcacer. Rather than the bishop it was these men, according to the anonymous author, who noted the deterioration of the weather, and they reinforced their case by pointing out that other crusader contingents had been delayed and could not be expected to arrive in the East until the following season. (48) The third account, however, presents a markedly different picture. De itenere Frisonum glosses over the military and nautical arguments emphasized by the other authors and notes only the pecuniary aspects of the bishop's offer. According to the Frisian author the crusaders were simply offered the customary inducement of all moveable spoils in the city. (49) These differences become highly significant in light of the varied reactions that the Portuguese request prompted from the northern crusaders.
The leaders of the expedition, Count George of Wied and Count William of Orange, responded positively to the Portuguese petition, as did the majority of the Rhinelanders. But not all were in agreement. Objections were raised by the Frisians, led by the formidable Abbot Heribert II of Werden (1197-1226). (50) Earlier disputes had been underpinned by the tensions inherent in extending crusading ideology to encompass Iberian campaigns. Yet by 1217 all the disputants appeared to share a conception of the crusade as incorporating both armed pilgrimage and the duty to assist fellow Christians. Thus even the Frisians, who were most eager to continue their voyage, had drawn considerable inspiration from the tombs of their predecessors killed in 1147. The point of contention for Abbot Heribert and his followers seems, rather, to have been the avowed intent of the Holy See. For during the planning stages of the crusade both Pope Innocent and his successor, Pope Honorius III, (1216-27), had actively discouraged impromptu operations of the kind the Portuguese proposed, going so far as to suspend crusading indulgences for all theatres of operations except the Holy Land. Moreover only two years earlier, at the Lateran Council, Pope Innocent had expressly rejected a petition made by Bishop Soeiro for permission to enlist the support of passing crusaders for exactly this type of local campaign. To the Abbot of Werden, therefore, their duty seemed clear. Despite strenuous efforts by the Portuguese and the Rhinelanders to persuade the Frisians to change their minds, in the end they refused to be swayed from their strict obedience to papal will. On 28 July, amid considerable rancour, the eighty Frisian ships weighed anchor and continued their eastward journey. Never before had the tensions involved in cooperative military operations in Portugal proved stronger than the bonds of common cause or the sworn oaths of association. Never had such tensions brought about the division of a crusader fleet before the completion of their vows.
These events would seem to suggest that different groups involved in the crusade continued to hold significantly divergent attitudes toward their own actions. The Portuguese had always tended to display a more practical attitude toward the crusade than the northerners, and this they appeared to have retained. Local ecclesiastical leaders seemed well aware that in proposing an attack on Alcacer they were directly defying papal injunctions. They appeared to view the crusade primarily in pragmatic terms: as a source for timely reinforcements, rather than a penitential opportunity for spiritual renewal. The crusaders, on the other hand, seemed to have accepted the contentious notion that holy war was as much an inherent part of the crusade as was pilgrimage. This belief is quite clearly manifested in their willingness to aid their co-religionists and was confirmed by their reverence for the crusader martyrs. Such convictions were no doubt also bolstered by their own experience of the miraculous during the siege, for when faced with a strong Muslim counterattack many of the crusaders believed they had been assisted by a company of ethereal troops bearing the sign of the cross. (51) On a more subtle level too, there were indications that the northern crusaders had come to place a greater moral weight on their own actions. While earlier Jerusalem-bound mariners had been unselfconscious about their hopes for financial benefit, those who elected to stay in 1217 were carefully reticent about such inducements. The departing Frisians, on the other hand, recalled the promise of spoils as the major point in the argument they had rejected. This artful manipulation of events by authors on both sides of the debate suggests that, by the time they came to record their memories, the pursuit of pecuniary gain had come to be seen as incompatible with the higher aims of the crusade. However the most marked change, superficially at least, was in the position taken by the senior churchmen accompanying the fleet.
Although hampered by distance and uncertain communications papal policy-makers had consistently worked to strengthen the military position in Christian Iberia, primarily through appeals to unity among the faithful. (52) But in 1217, in what was a remarkable reversal, the main opposition to the idea of taking up arms on behalf of the Portuguese came not from secular soldiers pursing an older and simpler concept of pilgrimage, but rather from the very ecclesiastics who until then had sought to broaden the concept of the crusade to encompass an obligation to defend fellow Christians. Nevertheless, the explanation for this clerical volte-face was simple: from the outset of the crusading movement popes experienced extreme difficulties in controlling a crusade once it had been launched. The diversion of the
Fourth Crusade toward Constantinople provided the organizers of the Fifth Crusade with a recent and stark reminder of this problem. One of the few effective levers the papacy possessed was the obligation represented by the crusader vow. Consequently, papal insistence on directing all aid to the Holy Land in 1217 led to an anachronistic re-emphasizing of the pilgrimage aspect of the crusade. Pope Honorius reiterated this position shortly after the capture of Alcacer. In an attempt to maximize the possibilities of the new strategic situation in Portugal, the bishop of Lisbon sped a letter to the papal court asking that the Rhineland fleet be allowed to remain for another year. Although Count William of Orange added his weight to the petition and suggested that the complete conquest of the Peninsula had become possible, the pope remained adamant. Only those crusaders who were physically unable to continue their pilgrimage could be released from their vows. The remainder of the ships were ordered to put to sea immediately and rendezvous with the main crusading armies in the East. (53)
The departure of the Rhenish fleet marked the last recorded participation of maritime crusaders in Portuguese campaigns; the account in De itinere Frisonum contains the final eyewitness description of the crusaders' shrine in Sao Vicente de Fora. Like the miraculous palm itself, the cult had sprouted over the graves of the fallen to become a vivid symbol of the crusaders' self-sacrifice. For a large number of visiting crusaders did come to accept the original miracles as evidence of divine favour and proof of the merit of their actions--and by doing so they revealed much about their own wider attitudes toward the crusade. Thus a belief in these miracles among the Germans and Flemings in 1147 reflected their acceptance of the tenets of holy war and presented a stark contrast to those of their English comrades who pursued a more traditional ideal of pilgrimage. Four decades later, despite the miraculous tales penned by the anonymous author of the Indiculum fundationis S. Vicentii, the actions of a new generation of visiting crusaders suggest that many of the tensions within the concept of the crusade remained unresolved. Even into the thirteenth century the cult of Henry the Crusader continued to illuminate the complex attitudes underpinning the crusade, since the willingness of the Frisians to accept Henry's spiritual status suggests that their disinclination to remain in Portugal arose not from any doubts concerning the concept of holy war, but rather from their obedience to papal directions. Over time, however, as decades became centuries, popular veneration for the crusader martyrs appears to have faded, until even the location of Henry's grave was lost. Like the miraculous healing palm, the cult seemed to have disappeared without trace. Through long years the crusaders' bones lay undisturbed, until workmen during the sixteenth century unexpectedly came upon the graves beneath the old sacristy floor. (54) With great pomp and reverence the bones of Henry of Bonn, the 'Knight of the Palm', were relocated to a place of honour in the new monastery church, there to become an enduring monument to a unique and uniquely revealing expression of crusading piety transplanted into a foreign land.
(1) An introduction to the early development of the monastery is provided by Carlos Guardado da Silva, O Mosteiro de S. Vicente de Fora. A comunidade regrante e o patrimonio rural (seculos XII-XIII) (Lisbon: Edicoes Colibri, 2002).
(2) A point made most forcefully by Christopher Tyerman, 'Were there any Crusades in the Twelfth Century?', English Historical Review, 110 (1995), 553-75; and The Invention of the Crusade (London: Methuen, 1998).
(3) Many of the terms of the debate on the nature of the crusade were established by Carl Erdmann, The Origin of the Idea of the Crusade, trans. by M. W. Baldwin and W. Groffart (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1977). A classic introduction to the issues, adopting the so-called 'pluralist' conception of the crusade, is Jonathan Riley-Smith, The First Crusade and the Idea of Crusading (London: Continuum, 2003). For a recent review of this debate see Jean Flori, 'Ideology and Motivations in the First Crusade', in Palgrave Advances in the Crusades, ed. by H. J. Nicholson (Basingstoke: Palgrave-Macmillan, 2005), pp. 15-36.
(4) Colin Morris, 'Memorials of the Holy Places and Blessings from the East: Devotion to Jerusalem before the Crusades', in The Holy Land, Holy Lands, and Christian History, ed. by R. N. Swanson (Woodbridge: Boydell, 2000), pp. 90-109.
(5) Jonathan Riley-Smith, The First Crusaders, 1095-1131 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), p. 74.
(6) For an overview of early Latin Christian engagement in Spain see Marcus Bull, Knightly Piety and the Lay Response to the First Crusade (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993), pp. 70-96; and James O'Callaghan, Reconquest and Crusade in Medieval Spain (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2003), pp. 1-44.
(7) Conciliorum Oecumenicorum Decreta, ed. by G. Alberigo, 3rd edn (Bologna: 1973), p. 192; La documentacion pontificia hasta Inocencio III (965-1216), ed. by D. Mansilla (Rome: Monumenta Hispaniae Vaticana, 1955), p. 62.
(8) Giles Constable, 'The Second Crusade as Seen by Contemporaries', Traditio, 9 (1953), 213-79; and more recently Ernst-Dieter Hehl, Kirche und Krieg im 12 Jahrhundert. Studien zu kanonischem Recht und Politischer Wirklichkeit (Stuttgart: Anton Hiersemann, 1980), pp. 137-41, 259-61.
(9) De expugnatione Lyxbonensi: The Conquest of Lisbon, ed. and trans. by Charles W. David, with additional notes by Jonathan Phillips (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2001), p. 79; and A Conquista de Lisboa aos Mouros. Relato de um Cruzado, ed. and trans. by Aires A. Nascimento (Lisbon: Vega, 2001), pp. 66-69. The critical phrase concerning Jerusalem is taken from St Augustine, Epistle, 58.2.4 (PL 22: 580-82) and was also considered at some length by the canonists. James A. Brundage, Medieval Canon Law and the Crusader (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1969), p. 7, n. 19.
(10) De expugnatione Lyxbonensi, pp. 101-11; A Conquista de Lisboa aos Mouros, pp. 86-91.
(11) H. E. J. Cowdrey, Pope Gregory VII, 1073-1085 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998), pp. 281-84; Erdmann, The Origin, pp. 140-43.
(12) Jonathan Riley-Smith, 'Death on the First Crusade', in The End of Strife, ed. by D. Loades (Edinburgh: T. and T. Clark, 1984), pp. 14-31; H. E. J. Cowdrey, 'Martrydom and the First Crusade', in Crusade and Settlement, ed. by P. W. Edbury (Cardiff: University College Cardiff Press, 1985), pp. 46-56 and 'Pope Gregory VII and Martyrdom', in Dei gesta per Francos, ed. by M. Balard, B. Kedar and J. Riley-Smith (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2001), pp. 3-11; Jean Flori, 'Mort et martyre des guerriers vers 1100. L'Exemple de la premiere croisade', Cahiers de civilisation medievale, 34 (1991), 121-39; and Colin Morris 'Martyrs on the Field of Battle before and during the First Crusade', in Martyrs and Martyrologies, ed. by D. Wood, Studies in Church History, 30 (Oxford: Blackwell, 1993), pp. 93-104.
(13) Brundage, Medieval Canon Law, pp. 145-53.
(14) Morris, 'Martyrs on the Field of Battle', p. 103.
(15) Susan B. Edgington, 'The Lisbon Letter of the Second Crusade', Historical Research, 69 (1996), 328-39; and 'Albert of Aachen, St Bernard and the Second Crusade', in The Second Crusade: Scope and Consequences, ed. by J. Phillips and M. Hoch (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2001), pp. 54-70. Giles Constable, 'A Further Note on the Conquest of Lisbon in 1147', in The Experience of Crusading, ed. by M. Bull and N. Housley, 2 vols (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), I, 42, n. 10 observes that Winand may well have been the first prior of the monastery of Sao Vicente de Fora.
(16) 'Arnulf's letter', Recueil des historiens des Gaules et de la France, ed. by M. Bouquet and L. Delisle, 24 vols. (Paris: 1869-1904), xiv, 325-27 and 'Epistola Arnulfi', Portugaliae Monumenta Historica, Scriptores, ed. by A. Herculano (Lisbon: 1856), pp. 406-07; 'Duodechin's letter', in 'Annales sancti Disibodi', Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Scriptores, vol. XVII, ed. by G. Waitz (Hanover: 1861), pp. 27-29.
(17) 'Duodechin's letter', p. 28.
(18) 'Arnulf's letter', p. 327; 'Epistola Arnulfi', p. 407.
(19) 'Duodechin's letter', p. 28.
(20) Harold Livermore, 'The "Conquest of Lisbon" and its Author', Portuguese Studies, 6 (1990), pp. 30-34. There are several difficulties with Livermore's confident assertion, not least the possibility of alternative candidates for authorship, such as Robert, the Anglo-Norman cleric who remained in Lisbon after the siege to become Dean of the Cathedral. See Maria Joao V. Branco, 'Introducao', in Nascimento, A Conquista de Lisboa aos Mouros, pp. 30-34. The attribution to Raol could best be considered a strong possibility rather than a certainty.
(21) De expugnatione Lyxbonensi, pp. 133-35; A Conquista de Lisboa aos Mouros, pp. 106-07.
(22) Livermore, 'The "Conquest of Lisbon" and its Author', p. 16.
(23) De expugnatione Lyxbonensi, pp. 133-35, 178-81; A Conquista de Lisboa aos Mouros, pp. 106-07, 140-43.
(24) Jonathan Phillips, 'St Bernard of Clairvaux, the Low Countries, and the Lisbon Letter of the Second Crusade', The Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 48: 3 (1997), 485-97 and Susan B. Edgington, 'Albert of Aachen, St Bernard and the Second Crusade', in The Second Crusade: Scope and Consequences, ed. by J. Phillips and M. Hoch (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2001), 54-70.
(25) De expugnatione Lyxbonensi, p. 73; A Conquista de Lisboa aos Mouros, pp. 62-63.
(26) The argument for collusion between Bernard of Clairvaux and Afonso Henriques has been championed by Livermore, 'The "Conquest of Lisbon" and its Author', pp. 8-12, and accepted by such influential authorities as Jonathan Phillips, 'Introduction', De expugnatione Lyxbonensi, pp. xv-xx; and Jose Mattoso, D. Afonso Henriques (Lisbon: Circulo de Leitores, 2006), pp. 167-69. Questions remain, however, as noted by Alan Forey, 'The Siege of Lisbon and the Second Crusade', Portuguese Studies, 20 (2004), 1-13. See also Branco, 'Introducao', pp. 26-36.
(27) De expugnatione Lyxbonensi, p. 121; A Conquista de Lisboa aos Mouros, pp. 96-97.
(28) 'De expugnatione Scalabis', Portugaliae Monumenta Historica, Scriptores, pp. 93-95; De expugnatione Lyxbonensi, pp. 136-39; A Conquista de Lisboa aos Mouros, pp. 110- 13.
(29) 'Indiculum fundationis monasterii S. Vincentii', Portugaliae Monumenta Historica, Scriptores, pp. 90-93; a more recently edited version can be found in Nascimento, A Conquista de Lisboa aos Mouros, pp. 178-201.
(30) For example Armando de Sousa Pereira, 'Guerra e santidade: o cavaleiro-martir Henrique de Bona e a conquista crista de Lisboa', in A Nova Lisboa Medieval, ed. by Instituto de Estudos Medievais (Lisbon: Edicoes Colibri, 2005), pp. 55-56.
(31) 'Translatio et miracula S. Vincentii', Portugaliae Monumenta Historica, Scriptores, pp. 95-96; see also Aires Augusto Nascimento and Saul Antonio Gomes, S. Vicente de Lisboa e seus milagres medievais (Lisbon: 1988); and Lidia Fernandes, 'O culto vicentino na formacao do reino portugues', Arqueologia Medieval, 3 (1993), 221-31. More generally, Maria de Lurdes Rosa, 'A santidade no Portugal medieval: narrativas e trajectos de vida', Lusitania Sacra, 2nd series, 13/14 (2001-02), 369-450.
(32) 'Indiculum', p. 92; Conquista de Lisboa aos Mouros, pp. 178-79. Although little else is known of the ageing German canon Otho, Fernando Peres may have been Fernao Peres de Soverosa, o Cativo, who appears as alferes-mor for Afonso Henriques from 1129-37 and mordomo-mor from 1146 to 1159. He played a prominent part as the king's representative during the siege of Lisbon. De expugnatione Lyxbonensi, pp. 112-13, 164-65; A Conquista de Lisboa aos Mouros, pp. 130-31. See also Jose Mattoso, Identificacao de um Pais: Ensaio sobre as origens de Portugal (1096-1325). I--Oposicao, 5th edn (Lisbon: Estampa, 1995), pp. 173-75.
(33) 'Indiculum', p. 91; A Conquista de Lisboa aos Mouros, pp. 180-81.
(34) 'Indiculum', p. 92; A Conquista de Lisboa aos Mouros, pp. 186-87.
(35) 'Indiculum', pp. 92-93; A Conquista de Lisboa aos Mouros, p. 192.
(36) Brundage, Canon Law and the Crusaders, pp. 124-25.
(37) Narratio de itinere navali peregrinorum Hierosolymam tendentium et Silviam capientium, A.D. 1189, ed. by C. W. David, Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society, 81 (1939), 631-32. The campaign at Silves is also mentioned by Ralph of Diceto, Ymagines Historiarum. Opera Historica, ed. by W. Stubbs, 2 vols (London: Rolls Series, 1876), II, 65-66; and by Roger of Hoveden, Gesta Regis Henrici SecundI, ed. by W. Stubbs, 2 vols (London: Rolls Series, 1867), II, 89-90 and Chronica, ed. by W. Stubbs, 4 vols (London: Rolls Series, 1868-71), II, 18.
(38) Roger of Hoveden, Gesta, II, 116-17; Chronica, III, 42-43. Interestingly, though St Thomas was a saint specially venerated among Londoners, his cult subsequently found a strong following in Portugal. Anne J. Duggan, 'Aspects of Anglo-Portuguese Relations in the Twelfth Century: Manuscripts, Relics, Decretals and the Cult of St Thomas Becket at Lorvao, Alcobaca and Tomar', Portuguese Studies, 14 (1998), 1-19.
(39) Roger of Hoveden, Chronica, II, 44.
(40) While any attempt to calculate numbers must be uncertain, Roger did note that the armed complement of the lone ship that arrived in Silves was 'more than eighty' and in a second description of the same event he rounded this figure up to one hundred. Roger of Hoveden, Gesta, II, 117; Cronica, III,, 43. As there were nine such ships in the fleet that arrived in Lisbon, a rough estimate might put the total number of armed belligerents at 800 or perhaps 900 soldiers.
(41) Ambrosio Huici Miranda, 'Las campanas de Ya'qub al Mansur en 1190 y 1191', Anais da Academia Portuguesa da Historia, 2nd series, 5 (1954), 55-74.
(42) Roger of Hoveden, Gesta, II, 116-18; Chronica, III,, 43-47.
(43) James M. Powell, Anatomy of a Crusade, 1213-1221 (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1986), pp. 124-27, provides a succinct account of the crusaders' activities in Portugal.
(44) 'Gosuini de expugnatione Salaciae carmen', Portugaliae Monumenta Historica, Scriptores, pp. 101-04; 'Gesta crucigerorum Rhenanorum', in Quinti belli sacri scriptores minores sumptibus Societatis illustrandis Orientis latini monumentis, ed. by R. Rohricht (Geneva: Soc. de l'Or. Lat., 1879), pp. 29-59; and 'De itinere Frisonum', in Quinti belli sacri scriptores, pp. 59-70, also in 'Emonis et Menkonis Werumensium Chronica', ed. by L. Weiland, Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Scriptores, vol. XXIII, ed. by G. Pertz (Berlin: 1874), pp. 478-83.
(45) 'De itinere Frisonum', p. 62; 'Emonis et Menkonis Werumensium Chronica', p. 830.
(46) 'De itinere Frisonum', p, 62, n. 1; de Sousa Pereira, 'Guerra e santidade', p. 66, who also notes a similar case cited by Robert Bartlett, The Making of Europe: Conquest, Colonization and Cultural Change, 950-1350 (London: Penguin, 1994), pp. 270-80, 379 in which the Czech Bishop Zdik of Olomouc changed his name to Henry to conform to Latin Christian usage.
(47) Powell, Anatomy of a Crusade, p. 125 appears to misread the Gesta to include Bishop Martinho of Evora among the Portuguese embassy. The chronicler reports: 'Severus [sic], episcopus Ulixibonensis, episcopus Eborensis, Martinus, commendator milicie de Palmela ..', Gesta, p. 30. 'Martinus' was the military commander rather than the bishop of Evora. Cf. Documentos Historicos da Cidade de Evora, 2 vols (Evora: Casa Pia: 1885), I, 11. The actual Bishop Martinho of Evora did not take office until 1248.
(48) 'Gosuini', p. 102; 'Gesta', pp. 30-31.
(49) 'De itinere Frisonum', pp. 62-63.
(50) For a brief biography of Abbot Heribert II, Graf von Buren, see Paul Jacobs, Geschichte der Pfarreien im Gebiete des ehemaligen Stiftes Werden a. d. Ruhr, 2 vols (Dusseldorf: Schwan, 1893-94), I, 181.
(51) 'Gosuini', p. 103; 'Gesta', pp. 32-33.
(52) For a useful overview of papal intervention in Spain at this time see O'Callaghan, Reconquest and Crusade in Medieval Spain, pp. 50-77.
(53) Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Epistolae saeculi XII, ed. by G. Pertz and C. Rodenburg (Berlin: 1883-94), no. 35, 36; Regesta Honorii Papae III,, ed. by P. Presutti, 2 vols (Rome: Typographia Vaticani, 1888),I, no. 997, p. 170 and no. 1027, p. 174.
(54) A description of this relocation by Nicolau de Santa Maria, Chronica da Ordem dos Conegos Regrantes do Patriarcha S. Agostinho (Lisbon: 1668), pt. 2, liv. 8, cap. 4, pp. 116-19, has been confirmed by recent archaeological discoveries. See Armando Santinho Cunha, Vida e Morte na Epoca de D. Afonso Henriques (Lisbon: Hugin Editores, 1998).
Monash University, Melbourne