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COOPERATION AND CONFLICT: CHRISTIAN AND MUSLIM GROUP IDENTITY
AND ACCOMMODATION BETWEEN THE SECOND AND THIRD CRUSADES,
1145-1192
A Thesis Submitted to the Committee on Graduate Studies in Partial Fulfillment of the
Requirements for the Degree of Master of Arts in the Faculty of Arts and Science
TRENT UNIVERSITY
Peterborough, Ontario, Canada
© Copyright by Leah Ensing 2014
History M.A. Graduate Program
September 2014
ABSTRACT
Cooperation and Conflict: Christian and Muslim Group Identity and Accommodation
between the Second and Third Crusades, 1145-1192
Leah Ensing
This study examines interaction and accommodation between Western Christians and
Muslims in the Levant between the Second and Third Crusades, 1145 to 1192, examining
three groups: short term crusaders, members of military orders, and permanent settlers.
While members of these groups possessed several personal and group identities, most
shared a prescriptive religious identity that encouraged a common goal: holy war for the
protection of the Holy Land from Muslims, whom they identified as a distinct, enemy
‘other.’ Despite these prescriptive beliefs, when Christians came into contact with
Muslims, particularly following longer and more varied contact, most engaged in some
convergent accommodation, such as diplomatic accommodation, development of shared
languages and gestures, or admiration for chivalric qualities. Those settled in the Levant
accepted the existing economic and social structures, assuming the roles of previous
elites, adopting certain local customs, sharing sacred spaces, medical knowledge, or even
developing personal ties with Muslims.
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KEYWORDS
Crusades, Second Crusade, Third Crusade, crusaders, Christianity, Christians, Crusader
Kingdoms, Islam, Muslims, religion, ‘other,’ identity, Military Orders, Order of the
Temple of Solomon of Jerusalem (Templars), Order of the Hospital of St John of
Jerusalem (Hospitallers), holy war, jihad, Jerusalem, Holy Land, Levant, Outremer,
convergent accommodation, divergent accommodation, intercultural contact,
interreligious contact, Richard I, Saladin, chivalry, knights, group belief, group identity.
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This thesis would not have been possible without the support, encouragement, and
expertise of a number of people.
Many thanks to my supervisor, Fiona Harris-Stoertz, for her expertise, advice, and sage
wisdom throughout this process. She always had the right words of encouragement when
they were most needed.
Thank you to my committee members Ivana Elbl, Marion Boulby, and Deborah Gerish,
for helping to shape this thesis into its completed form, particularly in regards to the
theoretical framework.
Thank you to the librarians at Bata Library for their cheerful assistance in acquiring
“hundreds” of interlibrary loan requests for me.
Thank you to my parents, Fred and Elizabeth, and my sister Erin, for always supporting
me, and for always believing this degree would be finished. It has meant the world to me.
Thank you to my nieces, Nixie and Piper, for many laughs and smiles along the way.
Thank you to Deb, Matt, and Zo, for walking the road together, and for always providing
a listening ear when needed.
iv
Thank you to all my fellow Wallis Hallians, Colleen, Michelle, Andrea, Naveera,
Stephanie, Latchmi, and Melissa for many shared cups of tea, slices of cake, and for
whiling away the hours.
Finally, thank you to all the members of St. John the Evangelist Anglican Church who
provided me with a much needed home away from home. In particular, thank you to
Emily, Christopher, Lisa, Terry, John, Mark, Christian, Sheila, Simon, Jenny, Rachel,
Hermione, Robin, Lucinda, Paul, Sharon, Don, and Christian.
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
Abstract
ii
Keywords
iii
Acknowledgements
iv
Introduction
1
Chapter 1: The Ideological Context of the Second and Third Crusade
37
Chapter 2: The Crusaders
68
Chapter 3: Members of the Military Orders
99
Chapter 4: The Permanent Settlers
135
Conclusion
183
Bibliography
193
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INTRODUCTION
The period between the Second Crusade (1145-49) and the Third Crusade (1187-92)
provides rich evidence of contact between elite Latin European Christians and Muslims.
For some individuals, as in the case of those who embarked upon a crusade and then
quickly returned home, the contact was brief and limited in nature. For others residing in
the Holy Land for a prolonged time, though, as in the case of members of the military
orders and the settlers in the crusader states, interactions with Muslims could be extensive
and complex. The present study examines the impact that different kinds of interactions
with Muslims had on the religious ideology, behaviours and attitudes of elite Latin
Christians towards Muslims between 1145 and 1192, and the degree to which
accommodation with Muslims took place as a result of interaction and other factors. 1
While papal calls to crusade and clerical preaching usually encouraged attitudes of
hostility towards Muslims—attitudes that were already entrenched in European society
by the mid-twelfth century—closer contacts with Muslims often increased Christians’
respect for Muslims and decreased the religious hostility dictated by prescriptive religious
ideology, at least in secular interactions, allowing for convergent accommodation. This
was at times encouraged by individual situations and personalities as well as the needs
and values associated with other group identities making up the mental world of
individual Latin Christians, although an increased respect for Muslims could bring a loss
1
In this study accommodation is defined as the ways in which a group’s or individual’s attitudes, beliefs
and behaviours towards another group are affected or changed through contact with them. This can be
either divergent, where the group seeks to affirm the differences between the groups by acting in ways that
separate them from another group, highlighting their own uniqueness, or convergent, where attitudes,
beliefs or behaviours become more similar to those of the opposite group. See below for further discussion.
1
of respect from fellow Christians, who believed their fellow believers had appeased those
who were enemies of the faith.
Theoretical Framework
This study examines how the group identities of elites as members of a crusading
mission, military order, or Christian state were challenged, and to some degree
transformed, through interactions with Muslims, and how this at times led to
accommodation with Muslims. In understanding questions of group identity and the
process of its transformation, sociological ideas regarding group belief and group
identity, as well as theories of cultural accommodation have been particularly important.
In particular the work of Daniel Bar-Tal, Group Beliefs, on group identity, and Giles,
Coupland, and Coupland, “Accommodation Theory,” on convergent and divergent
accommodation in individual and group interactions have provided a framework for the
discussion in this study. In addition, Gallois and Callan, “Interethnic Accommodation,”
have also provided some useful insights into accommodation between cultures. 2
According to Daniel Bar-Tal, in his work Group Beliefs, every individual belongs to
many groups that collectively make up his or her identity. Each of these groups possesses
group beliefs that are used by the group to help define what makes them a group, what
defines the boundaries of the group, and who lies outside of the group. 3 Bar-Tal defines
group beliefs as “convictions that group members (a) are aware that they share and (b)
2
Daniel Bar-Tal, Group Beliefs: A Conception for Analyzing Group Structure, Processes, and Behavior
(New York: Springer-Verlag, 1990); Howard Giles, Nikolas Coupland, and Justine Coupland,
“Accommodation Theory: Communication, Context, and Consequence,” in Contexts of Accommodation:
Developments in Applied Sociolinguistics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991).
3
Bar-Tal, Group Beliefs, 1-2.
2
consider as defining their ‘groupness.’ … [T]he contents of group beliefs usually pertain
to group identity, myths, goals, values, ideology, norms, tradition, or history.” 4 He
suggests that the groups that make up an individual’s identity vary in importance and that
an individual’s behaviour is regulated by the beliefs of the groups to which the individual
belongs. An individual’s behaviour in relation to any specific group is based on the
importance of each group.5 It will be argued that the Latin Christians who went to the
Holy Land on crusade, or who remained there, had many identities, related to language,
ethnicity, nationality, political affiliation, and professional and social status, among other
factors. However, there was one identity that brought these groups together in a single
overall purpose, and that was their identity as members of Christendom.6 As will be
argued in Chapter One, this shared Latin Christian identity provided crusaders with
certain ideas about the Muslim ‘other,’ holy war, and also about the meaning of
Jerusalem and the Holy Land in Christian history, which encouraged them to undertake
the crusades. However, as will be argued in subsequent chapters, once Christians reached
the Eastern Mediterranean and came into contact with Muslims, such overarching group
identities and beliefs often broke down. While the prescriptive beliefs of Christianity
were universal in nature – all those who did not belong within the Christian faith were
identified firmly as an ‘other’ and belonging outside the bounds of Christianity – other
identities and needs were also powerful and challenged the universal nature of Christian
4
Bar-Tal, Group Beliefs, 36.
Bar-Tal, Group Beliefs, 41-2.
6
The crusaders considered all Christians, both Latin Christians in the West, and Eastern Christians in Syria
and Palestine, to be members of Christendom. It was this identification of Eastern Christians as members of
Christendom that encouraged Latin Christians to go to the Holy Land to free their brothers and sisters in
Christ from what they considered to be oppression by Muslim infidels.
5
3
group identity. Even the identities provided by the military orders, or as permanent
settlers, changed the response of Latin Christians to Muslims in the Holy Land.
When the crusaders arrived in the Levant and came into contact with Muslims, in many
cases their respect for their professed enemy appears to have increased, with a
corresponding decrease in the hostility their religious beliefs decreed, at least in secular
interactions. Increased contact between Latin Christians and Muslims appears in many
cases to have led to increased accommodation between the groups. In understanding this
process, the theories and definitions of accommodation by Howard Giles, Nikolas
Coupland, and Justine Coupland, have been important, as has the more specific work on
interethnic accommodation by Cynthia Gallois and Victor J. Callan.7 Accommodation, as
used within this study, refers to the way in which an individual or group is changed by
contact with another individual or group. Accommodation can result in changes to a
person’s, “underlying beliefs, attitudes, and sociostructural conditions.”8 Accommodation
can be considered either convergent or divergent. Convergent accommodation occurs
when contact causes increased agreement between two groups in their behaviours or
thought patterns within an interaction, whereas divergent accommodation occurs when
contact causes a group to emphasize the differences between the two groups, with their
behaviours or thought patterns enforcing their own group’s unique characteristics, outside
of the interaction.9 Convergence and divergence can happen in one or many aspects of an
7
Giles, Coupland, and Coupland, “Accommodation Theory,” 1-68; Cynthia Gallois and Victor J. Callan,
“Interethnic Accommodation: The Role of Norms,” in Contexts of Accommodation: Developments in
Applied Sociolinguistics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), 245-69.
8
Gallois and Callan, “Interethnic Accommodation,” 246; Giles, Coupland, and Coupland,
“Accommodation Theory,” 2.
9
Giles, Coupland, and Coupland, “Accommodation Theory,” 7-8, 27.
4
interaction, and can also happen with only one or both parties converging or diverging. 10
Convergence and divergence are not mutually exclusive concepts and can happen
simultaneously within an interaction. The ideology of the crusades presented in papal
bulls and clerical preaching suggested that no convergent accommodation with Muslims
should take place, for the goal was to rid the Holy Land of all those who did not follow
Christ. There was no room in the prescriptive ideology for a decrease or lack of
hostilities. Rather, holy war presented a divergent form of accommodation, where the
group beliefs of the crusaders were reinforced and heightened through active warfare
against Muslims. However, as Christians came in closer contact with Muslims it appears
that there was often a reduction in hostilities in favour of less aggressive kinds of contact
as well as convergent accommodation. The Christians who interacted with Muslims
experienced different levels of convergence. Some were simply spatial, where there was
mutual tolerance to share a location. Some was inegalitarian, experienced particularly in
the sharing of sacred locations where one group led worship, while others joined. Other
forms of convergence were developed more equally between parties, such as the
convergence between diplomats where a shared system of gestures was developed that
were shared and understood by both sides. What remained limited was intellectual
convergence, though this was found to a limited extent through the practice of medicine.
This analysis explores the factors, including other group identities and beliefs and other
situational elements that challenged the primacy of religious hostilities and led to
increased respect for and accommodation with Muslims.
10
Giles, Coupland, and Coupland, “Accommodation Theory,” 9, 11-12.
5
While the analysis of group beliefs is a fundamental element of this work, it must be
recognized that neither Christians nor Muslims ever formed completely homogenous
groups, and that disagreements and animosity within faith groups could lead to suspicion
and negative interactions, just as they did between faith groups. Divisions among
Muslims and divisions among Christians could at times be so serious as to encourage
inter-faith alliances against co-religionists and other forms of accommodation. The
divisions between Latin and Eastern Christians in particular could be extreme in terms of
ethnicity, creed, and political affiliations, although their interactions are not, for reasons
of space, a focus of this thesis. Despite the diversity that existed even among Latin
Christians in the East, some general subgroups are apparent and show overall patterns of
action and accommodation that can lead to fruitful discussion of the nature of contact
between Latin Christians and Muslims during the Second and Third Crusade. The unique
experience of individual elites will also be discussed, as some convergent
accommodation was the direct result of individual experience and personality.
This study focuses on the experiences of elite members of three groups of Latin
Christians: short term crusaders (Chapter Two), military orders (Chapter Three), and
settlers (Chapter Four). The focus is primarily on elites because their activities are better
documented, and they were more likely to come into close and personal contact with the
religious ‘other.’11 While much of the contact between the Christians and Muslims was
divergent, with each side acting in ways that asserted their own group identities, elites in
all three groups experienced convergent accommodation, where their attitudes and
11
Jonathan Riley-Smith, “The Crusading Movement and Historians,” in The Oxford Illustrated History of
the Crusades, ed. Jonathan Riley-Smith (New York: Oxford University Press, 1995), 8.
6
behaviours shifted towards those of the other group they were in contact with, as a result
of interactions between the two.12 However, the types of accommodation and degree to
which this happened varied. For short-term crusaders, contact with Muslims was mostly
limited to events surrounding military engagements, or diplomatic negotiations to make
treaties or truces.13 Much of this contact remained divergent, rooted in hostility, and
served to highlight the differences between the faiths. Still, such contacts sometimes led
to greater respect for the ‘other’ and even some shared customs, particularly among
leaders. Members of the military orders also experienced a significant amount of
divergent accommodation, being highly committed to the protection of the crusader states
against Muslim enemies, but also some convergent accommodation through diplomatic
encounters. As members of permanent organizations in the Levant, the brothers of the
military orders recognized the necessity of some convergent accommodation, as their
limited numbers made constant warfare impossible, and they also experienced personal
contact off the battlefield with the Muslim nobility in social settings. In addition, they
were property owners who were landlords to Muslim peasants, and owners of Muslim
slaves who worked their estates.14 These relationships were mediated through Muslims
who worked as translators and managers of estates for military order overlords.
Permanent settlers and rulers experienced the most extensive and intimate convergent
contact with Muslims. Living among the indigenous populations forced the settlers into
the realization that continuous warfare was neither practical nor desirable, and this
encouraged a willingness to negotiate for peace to allow settlement, trade, and travel to
12
Giles, Coupland, and Coupland, “Accommodation Theory,” 7-9.
Mahmoud Said Omran, “Truces Between Moslems and Crusaders (1174-1217 A.D.),” in Autour De Le
Premiere Croisade, ed. Michael Balard (Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne, 1996), 423-441.
14
Alan Forey, “The Military Orders and the Ransoming of Captives from Islam (twelfth to early fourteenth
centuries),” in The Military Orders and Crusades, ed. Alan Forey (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1994), 274-5.
13
7
occur unimpeded.15 Such relationships were also furthered by the fostering of other
identities, for example, as members of a chivalric community, as merchants, or medical
professionals, that encouraged convergent accommodation beyond what was dictated by
their prescriptive religious beliefs. While limited intellectual exchange took place, both
military orders and settlers shared sacred spaces with Muslims, adopted some of the
customs of their Muslim subjects, and integrated some Muslim practices and ideas into
their lives. Individual Christians often displayed respect for individual Muslims based on
their personal interactions, although there were always limits to such relationships.
Overall, greater time and familiarity resulted in greater respect for the Muslim ‘other’ and
willingness to engage in convergent accommodation, though this was always done within
limits, as the religious identity of Latin Christians and Muslims remained an important
aspect of their identities, and limited the amount of accommodation that was possible.
Historical Context
Many of the changes that led to convergent accommodation happened over an extended
period of time, as the establishment of the crusader states and the military orders created
new group identities with different values and priorities than Christians back in Western
Europe. The period between the Second Crusade (1145-49) and the Third Crusade (118792) is a rich one for the study of interactions and accommodations between Latin
Christians and Muslims in the context of a variety of forms of contact. In the decades
15
Hadia Dajani-Shakeel, “Diplomatic Relations Between Muslim and Frankish Rulers 1097-1153 A.D,” in
Crusaders and Muslims in Twelfth-Century Syria, ed. Maya Shatzmiller (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1993), 209215; Ronnie Ellenblum, “Settlement and Society in Crusader Palestine,” in Knights of the Holy Land: The
Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem, ed. Silvia Rozenberg (Jerusalem: Israel Museum, 1999), 35-41; John
France, “The Second Crusade: War Cruel and Unremitting,” in Crusades: The Illustrated History, ed.
Thomas F. Madden (Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 2004), 66.
8
between the First Crusade (1095-99) and the Second Crusade, crusaders continued to
arrive and fight for the protection and expansion of the newly established crusader states,
as crusading ideology, hostile to Muslims, was widely disseminated in Europe. 16
However, during this period, Christian groups, including settlers in the crusader states
and the military orders established themselves in the Holy Land, developing trade and
commerce, and other social and economic activities, forging more extensive and complex
relationships with local Muslims. At the same time, Muslims began to recognize the
threat the crusaders in the Levant posed to surrounding Muslim powers, and solidified
their ideological and physical opposition towards them. Thus, Christians and Muslims on
the eve of the Second Crusade already had a well-established set of ideological positions
regarding each other, but also a complex web of real-life relationships and interactions
that did not always reflect religious ideology. The calling of the Second and Third
Crusades in response to Muslim reconquests of territory would create even more
opportunities for contact, and deepen and complicate relationships between Muslims and
Christians.
In 1144 the Muslim atabeg Zengi (`Imad al-Din Zengi, d. 1146) conquered the crusader
city of Edessa, and subsequently the county. This marked the start of a concerted effort
on the part of Muslims to reconquer territory lost in the First Crusade (1095-99).17 This
loss forced the Latin Christians of the East to seek aid from Europeans in the West, and at
16
Jonathan Phillips, The Second Crusade: Extending the Frontiers of Christendom (New Haven: Yale
University Press, 2007), 21-2, 26.
17
Phillips, The Second Crusade, 17; Christopher Tyerman, God’s War (New York: Penguin Books, 2006),
354, 372; Carole Hillenbrand, “‘Abominable Acts’: The Career of Zengi,” in The Second Crusade: Scope
and Consequences, ed. Jonathan Phillips and Martin Hoch (Manchester: Manchester University Press,
2001), 114; Norman Housley, Fighting for the Cross: Crusading to the Holy Land (New Haven: Yale
University Press, 2008), 8; Carole Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives (New York: Routledge,
2000), 110-12.
9
the end of 1145 and again in early 1146 Pope Eugenius III (1145-53) issued the bull
Quantum praedecessores that would lead to the Second Crusade, the first large campaign
since Jerusalem’s capture in 1099.18 The crusade saw the first European monarchs
participating directly in crusades, including King Louis VII of France (1137-80) and King
Conrad III of Germany (1138-52). To lead a crusade provided great prestige to rulers, at
least theoretically, but they could not be away from their home territories for great
lengths of time. This led to them having different goals from the rulers and inhabitants of
the crusader states who resided there permanently, leading to conflicts within the
Christian armies.19 The army’s siege upon Damascus was ultimately unsuccessful, in
large part because of the disputes between the Christian rulers, and supposed treason on
the part of the nobility and rulers of the crusader states. Conrad and Louis eventually
returned home having spent much and achieved nothing, and with the stigma of having
failed on God’s mission, something that implied both military incompetence and a lack of
God’s favour. The failure of the crusade caused many Christians in the West to question
the validity of the crusading movement and the accusations of treason dissuaded many
potential crusaders from coming to the Levant. It was not until the Third Crusade that
another large wave of crusaders came to the East, though smaller contingents of crusaders
continued to arrive during the intervening period.20
18
Phillips, The Second Crusade, 37-8, 50; Tyerman, God’s War, 274-5; Eugenius III, “Pope Eugenius III,
writing to King Louis VII of France and his subjects, proclaims the Second Crusade on God’s behalf
(Quantum praedecessores), 1 March 1146,” in The Crusades: Idea and Reality, 1095-1274, ed. and trans.
Jonathan and Louise Riley-Smith (London: Edward Arnold, 1981), 57-59.
19
Tyerman, God’s War, 298, 329; Phillips, The Second Crusade, 37, 61, 64, 81, 96; Housley, Fighting for
the Cross, 9-10; Jonathan Phillips, Holy Warriors: A Modern History of the Crusades (New York: Random
House, 2009), 81-4; Phillips, The Second Crusade, 207-227.
20
Roger of Wendover, Roger of Wendover’s Flowers of History Comprising The History of England from
the Descent of the Saxons to A.D. 1235. Formerly Ascribed to Matthew of Paris, trans. J. A. Giles, vol. 1.
(New York: AMS Press, 1968), 502; Tyerman, God’s War, 341; Phillips, Holy Warriors, 98. For an
extensive overview of the siege of Damascus see Phillips, The Second Crusade, 207-227.
10
After the loss of Edessa in 1144 and the failure of the Second Crusade, three crusader
states of the original four remained: Tripoli, Antioch, and Jerusalem. All three states were
politically independent, had their own unique character and at times were at loggerheads
with one another. However, there were many political connections between them, and it
was in the best interest of the states to work together against surrounding Muslim
territories.21 The crusader states never had large numbers of knights on whom they could
call. Historians estimate that the total number of knights who owed service to Frankish
rulers was not above 2,000. When the Franks sought aid from the West in times of greater
conflict with neighbouring Muslim powers, they did so as a combined entity. 22 In
addition to soldiers from within the crusader states, in part because of the short term
nature and unreliability of crusaders, by the 1140s military orders such as the Templars
(Knights of the Temple of Solomon of Jerusalem) and Hospitallers (Hospital of St John
of Jerusalem) had evolved to serve as permanent organizations committed to the defence
of the Holy Land.
The death of King Amalric of Jerusalem (1163-74) in 1174 began a slow decline of
power in the crusader states as Amalric was succeeded by a string of weak and incapable
21
Jonathan Phillips, “The Latin East, 1098-1291,” in The Oxford Illustrated History of the Crusades, ed.
Jonathan Riley-Smith, 112-140 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1995), 121; Tyerman, God’s War,
346.
22
Housley, Fighting for the Cross, 7; Josiah C. Russell, “Demographic Factors of the Crusades,” in The
Meeting of Two Worlds, ed. Vladimir P. Goss (Kalamazoo: Western Michigan University, 1986), 56; John
France, The Crusades and the Expansion of Catholic Christendom 1000-1714 (New York: Routledge,
2005), 140. Russell suggests that at the peak of the crusader states there were about 2500 knights with 1500
of them being crusaders. John France suggests a core number of knights between 1200 and 1500. For an
example of a letter from the rulers seeking aid see “Princes and Ecclesiastics Beyond the Sea to Emperor
Frederick Barbarossa (July 1187),” in Letters from the East: Crusaders, Pilgrims and Settlers in the 12th13th centuries, ed. Malcolm Barber and Keith Bate (Farnham: Ashgate Publishing Limited, 2010), 75-7.
11
rulers. This opened the door to further Muslim conquest of Christian territory.23 The
sultan Salah al-Din (Salah al-Din Yussuf Ayyub, Saladin to western writers, 1137/81193) forced the Christians into one of their greatest defeats, at Hattin, 4 July 1187. This
was swiftly followed by the devastating loss of Jerusalem on 2 October 1187. This defeat
ended Western indifference to the plight of the Franks and caused Pope Gregory VIII
(1187) to issue the bull Audita tremendi, which launched the Third Crusade to try and
bring Jerusalem back under Christian control.24 Even more than the Second Crusade, the
Third Crusade was a crusade led by kings and undertaken by skilled warriors. Three
European monarchs responded to this call to crusade: King Richard I of England (118999); King Philip II of France (1180-1223); and King Frederick I Barbarossa of Germany
(1152-90), although Frederick drowned on his way to the Holy Land, and the majority of
his troops returned home. Far more than previous crusades, the Third Crusade was clearly
recognized as a military encounter; crusaders identified themselves not as pilgrims or
travellers, as in past crusades, but as crucesignatus (one signed by the cross), soldiers
who had taken vows to fight the infidel in the Holy Land. 25 While the Third Crusade did
23
Tyerman, God’s War, 357-8; Thomas Asbridge, The Crusades: The Authoritative History of the War for
the Holy Land (New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 2010), 301-3, 342; Peter W. Edbury, “Propaganda
and Faction in the Kingdom of Jerusalem: The Background to Hattin,” in Crusaders and Muslims in
Twelfth-Century Syria, ed. Maya Shatzmiller (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1993), 175.
24
Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 172; Helen Nicholson, The Knights Templar: A New
History (Phoenix Mill: Sutton Publishing Limited, 2001), 70; Norman Housley, “Saladin’s Triumph over
the Crusader States: The Battle of Hattin, 1187,” History Today 37, no. 7 (1987): 17-23; Helen J.
Nicholson, trans., The Chronicle of the Third Crusade: The Itinerarium Peregrinorum et Gesta Regis
Ricardi (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1997), 38-9; Asbridge, The Crusades, 370-1; France, The Crusades and the
Expansion, 150; Gregory VIII, “In the Face of Disaster Pope Gregory VIII Summons Christians to
Repentance and Describes the Crusade as a Test Imposed by God (Audita tremendi), October-November
1187,” in The Crusades: Idea and Reality, 1095-1274, ed. and trans. Jonathan and Louise Riley-Smith
(London: Edward Arnold, 1981), 63-67.
25
Asbridge, The Crusades, 372; Jonathan Riley-Smith, What Were the Crusades? (London: Macmillan,
1977), 12; Giles Constable, “The Historiography of the Crusades,” in Crusaders and Crusading in the
Twelfth Century by Giles Constable (Farnham: Ashgate, 2008), 18; Tyerman, God’s War, 389-90. Phillip’s
personal contingent of soldiers was made up of 2,000 knights. Richard managed to contribute 6,000 knights
through his own funding, and to provide transport for another 9,000, including some he directly contributed
to their financial support.
12
have some successes, such as the siege of Acre, efforts were hampered by infighting
among the various leaders, as had been the case in the Second Crusade.26 By 1192, the
end of the Third Crusade, the crusader territories had been reduced to a small strip of land
along the coast from Jaffa to Tyre. 27 Participants in the Third Crusade returned home in
1192 without having attempted to win back Jerusalem, following negotiations with Salah
al-Din to end hostilities. This forms a logical stopping point in the research. After the
Third Crusade both the Christian and Muslim powers were weakened and facing political
instability. After Salah al-Din’s death in 1193, his three sons and brother al-`Adil entered
into a dynastic struggle, drawing attention away from Christian territories. The Franks
made a temporary truce with al-`Adil and re-established a more stable rule in what was
left of the crusader states.28
Historiography
The modern study of the crusades began in the eighteenth century and has covered many
varied aspects of the crusades, but only recently have scholars begun to look at issues of
identity and accommodation. Some of the earliest considerations of issues of identity
arose from questions of motivations, specifically the beliefs or values that brought
Europeans to the East. Before the 1950s historians variously suggested crusaders were
26
Asbridge, The Crusades, 435-6; Tyerman, God’s War, 450-1, 454; Phillips, Holy Warriors, 146, 149.
Thomas Asbridge, “Talking to the Enemy: The Role and Purpose of Negotiations between Saladin and
Richard the Lionheart during the Third Crusade,” Journal of Medieval History 39, no. 3 (2013): 291;
Housley, Fighting for the Cross, 14; Phillips, Holy Warriors, 162; France, The Crusades and the
Expansion, 155; Ibn al-Athir, The Chronicle of Ibn al-Athir for the Crusading Period from al-Kamil fi’lta’rikh Part 2: The Years 541-589/1146-1193: The Age of Nur al-Din and Saladin, trans. D. S. Richards
(Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007), 401-2.
28
Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspective, 201; Sir Hamilton Gibb, The Life of Saladin: From the
Word of ‘Imad ad-Din and Baha ad-Din (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1973), 75-6; Asbridge, The Crusades,
513-14, 540-1; Ibn al-Athir, The Chronicle, vol. 2, 408-9; Steven Runciman, A History of the Crusades,
Volume III: The Kingdom of Acre (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1951: London: Penguin
Books, 1971), 76, 82. Citations refer to the Penguin edition.
27
13
motivated by blind religious fanaticism, the pursuit of wealth, enjoyment of violence, the
search for land and adventure by younger sons, or simple ignorance and superstition. 29
While some of these factors, or combinations of them, are still accepted by some
historians, more recent considerations of this question have become more complex and
broad-ranging, with scholars looking to other fields such as sociology, psychology, and
economics to provide explanations for the motivations of crusaders.30
Consideration of other fields has encouraged a recent trend among some historians to
view the crusaders’ motivations, actions, and identity in terms of their own “selfdefinitions and self-perceptions” as presented through contemporary sources of the
twelfth century.31 Many of these scholars, following Jonathan Riley-Smith, suggest that
crusaders’ dominant identity was a religious one, and that crusaders were often drawn to
the Holy Land for sincere religious motivations.32 They wished to aid fellow Christians
they viewed as being oppressed by Muslims, to reclaim the Holy Land for Christianity,
and do penance for their sins and thus receive forgiveness for them, for to go on crusade
was an act of penance in and of itself.33 This view acknowledges that the crusaders came
29
Andrew Holt and James Muldoon, introduction to Competing Voices from the Crusades: Fighting Words
(Oxford: Greenwood Publishing Group, 2008), xv, xvi; Riley-Smith, “The Crusading Movement and
Historians,” 6, 8; Tyerman, Fighting for Christendom, 14. For more on these issues see Russell,
“Demographic Factors,” 55; Christopher Tyerman, Fighting for Christendom: Holy War and the Crusades
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), 138-40.
30
Constable, “The Historiography of the Crusades,” 5-6, 25-6.
31
Alan V. Murray, “Ethnic Identity in the Crusader States: the Frankish race and the settlement of
Outremer,” in Concepts of National Identity in the Middle Ages, ed. Simon Forde, Lesley Johnson and Alan
V. Murray (Leeds: Leeds Studies in English, 1995), 60; Constable, “The Historiography of the Crusades,”
6, 16-18, 28; Riley-Smith, “The Crusading Movement and Historians,” 10; Jonathan Riley-Smith, The First
Crusaders, 1095-1131 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 1-2.
32
Phillips, Holy Warriors, xix; Holt and Muldoon, introduction to Competing Voices of the Crusades, xv;
Riley-Smith, “The Crusading Movement and Historians,” 6-8; Riley-Smith, The First Crusaders, 83-4.
33
Constable, “The Historiography of the Crusades,” 25; Riley-Smith, “The Crusading Movement and
Historians,” 10; Riley-Smith The First Crusaders, 28; Asbridge, The Crusades, 11, 102; Giles Constable,
“Medieval Charters as a Source for the History of the Crusades,” in Crusade and Settlement: Papers Read
14
from many different backgrounds, and had varying individual motives, that potentially
included a desire for earthly benefits as well as the promotion of familial or kinship ties. 34
However, these scholars argue that most crusaders shared an overarching religious
ideology that gave them a collective identity. While these scholars do not reject financial,
or other, motives entirely, they tend to consider them less important than religious
motives. As Riley-Smith has pointed out, the crusades in general were highly expensive
and unpleasant experiences. There is almost no proof in later crusades of financial gain,
yet crusaders, who must have been aware of this, continued to travel far from their
families and estates for extended periods of time, and faced great danger and possible
death.35
While these arguments are compelling and the existence of a powerful shared Christian
identity among crusaders at least at the onset of their journey to the East, is largely
accepted in this work, it must be noted that acceptance of such theories has not been
universal among scholars examining the self-perception of crusaders. Christopher
Tyerman and John France have suggested that the desire to fight a holy war and to
receive material gain were not in conflict. Rather, the crusaders viewed material gain as
at the First Conference of the Society for the Study of Crusades and the Latin East and Presented to R.C.
Smail, ed. Peter W. Edbury (Cardiff: Cardiff University College Press, 1985), 81-3.
34
Riley-Smith, The Crusades: A Short History (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1987), 11-12; Jonathan
Riley-Smith and Louise Riley Smith, ed. and trans., The Crusades: Idea and Reality, 1095-1274 (London:
Edward Arnold, 1981), 10; Jonathan Riley-Smith, “The Motives of the Earliest Crusaders and the
Settlement of Latin Palestine, 1095-1100,” English Historical Review 98, no. 389 (1983): 734; Phillips, The
Second Crusade, 1-2, 99-100.
35
Jonathan Riley-Smith, Atlas of the Crusades (London: Swanston Publishing Limited, 1990), 7; RileySmith, “The Motives of the Earliest Crusaders,” 723, 734; Holt and Muldoon, introduction to Competing
Voices from the Crusades, xvi; Constable, “The Historiography of the Crusades,” 3. Riley-Smith asserts, “It
cannot be stressed often enough that crusades were arduous, disorientating, frightening, dangerous, and
expensive.” Riley-Smith, “The Crusading Movement and Historians,” 10.
15
God’s blessing and favour for their work.36 Simon Lloyd places greater emphasis on
lordship and kinship ties as motivating factors, as well as local and regional
associations.37 Geoffrey Barraclough sees the crusades not as defensive holy war against
perceived enemies of Christianity, but rather as aggressive ventures, which created
“radically unstable centers of colonial exploitation.”38 The present study accepts that
other, sometimes competing, motivations contributed to the individual identity of
crusaders, and that sometimes such motivations superseded religious motivations when
Latin Christians were faced by conditions in the East and interacted with Muslims.
The increasing historiographical debate about the role of sincere religious intentions in
bringing crusaders to the Holy Land has tended to bring the actions of crusaders that
seem contrary to religious motivations into the spotlight. Ideologically, the crusaders
should not have had accommodative or peaceful contact with Muslims, as they were
perceived to be enemies of God against whom the crusaders were sworn to fight in a holy
war. However, as a number of scholars have pointed out, the crusaders’ response towards
36
John France, Victory in the East: A Military History of the First Crusade (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1996), 11-16; John France, “Patronage and the Appeal of the First Crusade,” in The First
Crusade: Origins and Impact, ed. Jonathan Phillips (New York: Manchester University Press, 1997), 1417; Tyerman, God’s War, 84-86.
37
Simon Lloyd, “The Crusading Movement, 1096-1274,” in The Oxford Illustrated History of the
Crusades, ed. Jonathan Riley-Smith, (New York: Oxford University Press, 1995), 50-3.
38
Constable, “The Historiography of the Crusades,” 5-6. Some other historians such as Prawer, The Latin
Kingdom of Jerusalem, ix, 380; Joshua Prawer, Crusader Institutions (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1980), 23,
and Smail, Crusading Warfare, 62-3 have termed the settlement of the Franks in the Latin East as
colonialism. I have chosen not to do so. Along with Phillips “The Latin East,” 112-13, I would suggest that
the term colonialism now has come to be associated with more modern events such as Britain’s
establishment of colonies in North America or the Spanish conquest of the New World, and does not
accurately express the situation in the Levant. In addition, the crusades were undertaken, at least in part, for
neither political nor economic gain of a homeland, but for the protection of the Holy Sepulchre and the city
of Jerusalem. Phillips suggests a term of ‘religious colonization’ may be appropriate. For more views on
colonization and the crusades see Kenneth M. Setton, gen. ed., A History of the Crusades, vol. 5
(Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1985), 193; Murray, “Ethnic Identity,”59-60; Constable,
“The Historiography of the Crusades,” 15; Susan Reynolds, “Empires: A Problem of Comparative
History,” Historical Research 79, no. 204 (2006): 151-65.
16
Muslims was not exclusively hostile.39 In addition to fighting in battles, the crusaders
made treaties and truces with Muslims, entered into diplomatic contact and at times even
formed alliances with them against other Muslims or even fellow Christians. Among
elites, chivalric behaviour on the part of a brave warrior was respected regardless of their
faith. For members of the military orders and settlers who choose to remain in the
crusader states permanently, their interaction with Muslims was even more varied, and
not always violent.
The study of personal and group identity and group beliefs seems to be one of the most
promising approaches to this problem. The first major scholar to address group identities
of crusaders was Jonathan Riley-Smith, who differentiated between the identity of the
crusaders and the established settlers, who became collectively known as the Franks. 40
Riley-Smith, in his seminal article “Peace Never Established” made a clear distinction
between the relationships that existed between the crusaders and the Muslims and
between the settlers and Muslims, but his focus remained largely on the ideological views
of the crusaders and settlers that made permanent peace with Muslims an impossibility. 41
Several other recent historians, particularly Thomas Asbridge, Jonathan Phillips, and
39
Phillips, Holy Warriors, xvii; Thomas S. Asbridge, “Knowing the Enemy: Latin Relations with Islam at
the Time of the First Crusade,” in Knighthoods of Christ: Essays on the History of the Crusades and the
Knights Templar, Presented to Malcolm Barber, ed. Norman Housley (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007), 17-25;
Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 195, 258-62; Niall Christie and Deborah Gerish, “Parallel
Preachings: Urban II and al-Sulami,” Al-Masaq 15, no. 2 (September 2003): 144; Bernard Hamilton,
“Knowing the Enemy: Western Understanding of Islam at the Time of the Crusades,” in Crusaders,
Cathars and the Holy Places, ed. Bernard Hamilton (Aldershot: Ashgate Publishing Limited, 1999), 379.
40
Jonathan Riley-Smith, “Peace Never Established: The Case of the Kingdom of Jerusalem,” Transactions
of the Royal Historical Society 5, no. 28 (1978): 87-102; Asbridge, The Crusades; Thomas S. Asbridge,
“The ‘Crusader’ Community at Antioch: The Impact of Interaction with Byzantium and Islam”
Transactions of the Royal Historical Society 9 (1999): 305-25; Asbridge, “Knowing the Enemy,” 17-25;
Phillips, Holy Warriors; Murray, “Ethnic Identity,” 59-73; Alan V. Murray, “National Identity, Language
and Conflict in the Crusades to the Holy Land, 1096-1192,” in The Crusades and the Near East, ed. Conor
Costick (New York: Routledge, 2011), 107-25.
41
Riley-Smith, “Peace Never Established,” 87-102.
17
Alan Murray, have followed Riley-Smith in using identity as a key category of analysis,
and have been influential in forming this study’s approach. Asbridge and Phillips in their
recent surveys of crusade history both recognize the many varied relationships that
existed between Christian groups and Muslims. They emphasize the importance of not
considering all Christians or all Muslims as a single group, but addressing the varied
identities that existed within each, which influenced the amount of contact and ultimately
the amount and nature of accommodation between groups. 42 Murray’s concern lies
largely with the ways in which prolonged time in the Levant made the identity of the
Franks diverge from that of the crusaders. While he acknowledges that this made their
reactions towards Muslims different from that of the crusaders, the comparison of
changes in identity between the two groups of Christians dominates his discussion.43
While the work of these scholars has had an important influence on this project, for many
their primary focus is not on the period surrounding the Second and Third crusades, and
they have looked mainly at the factors that shaped the varied identities of crusaders,
rather than how that identity in turn influenced the nature of contact with Muslims and
any resulting accommodation. This study intends to address these gaps.
Some other medieval historians who have addressed the ideas of group identities and
beliefs have done so in terms of national identities, as defined by Benedict Anderson and
his work on “imagined communities,” debating whether such communities can be found
in the Middle Ages. Anderson suggests that a nation is “an imagined political community
42
43
Asbridge, The Crusades, 2-3; Phillips, Holy Warriors, xvi, xx.
Murray, “Ethnic Identity,” 59-70; Murray, “National Identity,” 107-125.
18
– and imagined as both inherently limited and sovereign. 44 While Anderson does not see
such communities existing before the eighteenth century, historians such as Linda Colley,
Sarah Buchanan and Lesley Johnson have all suggested that many of the characteristics
he discusses can be found in medieval religious or political entities and that nascent
national communities can be seen before the modern age.45 While the insights of such
scholars are valuable in understanding medieval identity, this study will use the broader
sociological frameworks of group identity and accommodation theory, rather than
Anderson’s more limited ideas on nationhood, as they allow for a more nuanced
understanding of group and personal identity.
Sources
The crusades have not only been studied by modern historians, but those who participated
in the crusades themselves recorded their experiences. From the earliest days of the
crusade movement Christian clergy, chroniclers, travellers and troubadours found
inspiration and motivation for writing in the events of the Latin East. Muslim writers also
found the crusades to be worthy of recording. Thus a considerable number of sources
relating to Christian and Muslim interaction and accommodation from both Christian and
Muslim perspectives have survived for the period between 1145 and 1192, although the
uneven production and survival of sources, inherent biases, difficulties in interpretation,
44
Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities (New York: Verso, 1991), 4-6.
Linda Colley, Britons: Forging the Nation, 1707-1837 (London: Pimlico, 2003), 5-6; Susan Reynolds,
“The Historiography of the Medieval State,” in Companion to Historiography, ed. Michael Bentley
(London: Routledge, 1997), 109-15; Sarah B. Buchanan, “A Nascent National Identity in ‘La Chanson
d’Antioche’,” The French Review 76, no. 5 (Apr. 2003), 918-932; Lesley Johnson, “Imagining
Communities: Medieval and Modern,” in Concepts of National Identity in the Middle Ages, ed. Simon
Forde, Lesley Johnson and Alan V. Murray (Leeds: Leeds Studies in English, 1995), 4-5.
45
19
and other issues present challenges to scholars exploring this field.46 While few sources
are entirely satisfactory in and of themselves, this study attempts to overcome this
difficulty by using a variety of sources from different genres. Still, significant gaps
remain, for example in the limited number of sources that record the experience of nonelites and women. This has limited the scope of this project, although significant insights
into the experience of elite men can still be achieved.
Latin and Muslim chronicles and histories are foundational for this project, as they are the
most substantial sources that record the actions and interactions of Christians and
Muslims in the Holy Land. Some, like those of Ambroise, the Itinerarium Peregrinorum,
Odo of Deuil, Baha’ al-Din and Ibn al-Athir, among others, were written by eyewitnesses, who lived in or journeyed to the Holy Land. 47 William of Tyre was unusual
among Latin Christian chroniclers in having been born in the Holy Land, and writing
from a specifically Frankish perspective.48 Other chronicles, such as those by Richard of
Devizes or Roger of Wendover, were written by clergy back in Europe, who collected
46
Benjamin Z. Kedar, “The Subjected Muslims of the Frankish Levant,” in Muslims Under Latin Rule,
1100-1300, ed. James M. Powell (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990), 138; John France,
“Crusading Warfare,” in Palgrave Advances in the Crusades, ed. Helen J. Nicholson (New York: Palgrave
Macmillan, 2005), 67; Robert Irwin, “Usamah ibn Munqidh: An Arab-Syrian Gentleman at the Time of the
Crusades Reconsidered,” in The Crusades and Their Sources: Essays Presented to Bernard Hamilton, ed.
John France and William G. Zajac (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1998), 73.
47
Ambroise, The History of the Holy War: Ambroise’s Estoire de la Guerre Sainte, trans. Marianne Ailes, 2
vols. (Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2003); Nicholson, The Chronicle of the Third Crusade; Odo of Deuil,
De profectione Ludovici VII in orientem: The Journey of Louis VII to the East, ed. and trans. Virginia
Gingerick Berry (New York: Columbia University Press, 1948); Baha’ al-Din Ibn Shaddad, The Rare and
Excellent History of Saladin or al-Nawadir al-Sultaniyya wa’l-Mahasin al-Yusufiyya by Baha’ al-Din Ibn
Shaddad, trans. D. S. Richards (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2002); Ibn al-Athir, The Chronicle of Ibn al-Athir for
the Crusading Period from al-Kamil fi’l-Ta’rikh. Part 1. The Years 491-541/1097-1146: The Coming of the
Franks and the Muslim Response, trans. D.S. Richards (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2005), Ibn al-Athir, The
Chronicle, vol. 2.
48
Emily Atwater Babcock and A. C. Krey, ed. and trans., introduction to A History of Deeds Done Beyond
the Sea, vol. 1 (New York: Octagon Books, 1976), 4-5, 28-33.
20
and recorded the accounts of the crusaders.49All must be used with caution, as all focus
primarily on the military and political exploits of elites, particularly rulers, and all were
written to promote specific ideas and messages. 50 For example, Latin chroniclers served
not only to record the history of the crusades, but also as propaganda to promote further
missions and the ideology underlying them. Overwhelmingly, Christian chronicles were
written by clergy. Secular perspectives are rare, although parts of the Itinerarium
Peregrinorum may have been written by a crusader, and an author of significant
proportions of the Old French continuation of William of Tyre, the work of multiple
authors, was likely a retainer of the nobleman Balian of Ibelin.51 Despite the occasional
exception like these, most Christian chronicles espouse a distinctly clerical view on the
crusades which makes non-religious perspectives difficult to come by.
Muslim histories were often connected to political rulers of Muslim dynasties, for
example Ibn al-Athir’s family was employed by the Zengids, while Baha’ al-Din was
employed by Salah al-Din, and, like Christian sources, seek to promote specific
agendas.52 The Syrian warrior and gentleman, Usamah, wrote The Book of Contemplation
likely for Salah al-Din. His work is even more challenging, for it belongs to the adab
tradition of literature, written for the elite to be used for meditation and entertainment.
49
Richard of Devizes, The Chronicle of Richard of Devizes of the Time of King Richard the First, ed. John
T. Appleby (London: T. Nelson, 1963); Roger of Wendover, Roger of Wendover’s Flowers of History
Comprising The History of England from the Descent of the Saxons to A.D. 1235. Formerly Ascribed to
Matthew of Paris, trans. J. A. Giles, 2 vols. (New York: AMS Press, 1968).
50
Riley-Smith, “The Crusading Movement and Historians,” 8.
51
Nicholson, introduction to The Chronicle of the Third Crusade, 8; Peter W. Edbury, trans., introduction
to The Conquest of Jerusalem and the Third Crusade (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1998), 5.
52
D. S. Richards, introduction to Ibn al-Athir, The Chronicle, vol. 2, 1; D. S. Richard, introduction to The
Rare and Excellent History of Saladin, 2; Jonathan Phillips, “Odo of Deuil’s De profectione Ludovici VII in
Orientem as a source for the Second Crusade,” in The Experience of Crusading: 1. Western Approaches,
ed. Marcus Bull and Norman Housley (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2003) 81; France,
“Crusading Warfare,” 64; P. M. Holt, The Age of the Crusades: the Near East from the Eleventh Century to
1517 (London: Longman, 1986), 209-11.
21
While it is presented as an autobiography, its intention is to provide moral and social
lessons, presenting the virtues and faults of subjects. His overall purpose is to show that
God is in control of the fate of all men. This work provides ideas about Usamah’s
perceptions of life among the Franks, though the stories do not necessarily present “truth”
as it would be interpreted today; rather it presents stereotypes and general perceptions of
the Franks.53 These religious and political affiliations lead often in the works to obvious
biases and selective inclusions, although their biases tell us much about the ideology
circulating in Christian and Muslim society, and they remain our best source for the
events of the crusades. The study of both Christian and Muslims sources helps in
overcoming some of the biases of the writers, and helps to elucidate the relationships
between the two faiths. Still, the nature and availability of chronicle evidence has shaped
this projected in significant ways. Far more Christian and Muslim sources survive for the
Third Crusade than the Second.54 Likewise, the lack of evidence on ordinary crusaders
has resulted in a focus on the actions and accommodation of elite members of crusader
and Muslim societies.
Because of some of the inherent biases and weaknesses of chronicles and histories as
sources, this study has also looked to other sources to fill in some of these gaps. Clerical
53
Paul M. Cobb, trans. and ed., introduction to The Book of Contemplation: Islam and the Crusades,
(London: Penguin Classics, 2008), xvi, xxx-xxi; Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 260.
54
The most significant chronicles for the Second Crusade include: Odo of Deuil, De profectione; Otto of
Freising and His Continuator, Rahewin, The Deeds of Frederick Barbarossa, trans. Charles Christopher
Mierow (New York: Columbia University Press, 1953); Ibn al-Qalanisi, Damascus Chronicle of the
Crusades, trans. H. A. R. Gibb (London: Luzac & Co., 1932). The significant works of the Third Crusade
include Nicholson, The Chronicle of the Third Crusade; Edbury, The Conquest of Jerusalem; Ambroise,
Estoire de la Guerre Sainte; Richard of Devizes, The Chronicle; Roger de Hoveden, The Annals of Roger
de Hoveden: Comprising the History of England and of Other Countries in Europe, trans. Henry T. Riley, 2
vols. (repr., Felinfach: Llanerch Publishers, 1997); Roger of Wendover, Flowers of History, 2 vols.; Baha’
al-Din, The Rare and Excellent History of Saladin; Ibn al-Athir, The Chronicle, 2 vols.; William of Tyre, A
History of Deeds Done Beyond the Sea, 2 vols., trans. Emily Atwater Babcock and A.C. Krey (New York:
Columbia University Press, 1941; New York: Octagon Books, 1976).
22
writings, such as papal bulls, have been examined to provide a clearer picture of official
Church teachings that helped develop the group beliefs of Latin Christians coming to the
East and the motivations that brought them there.55 Letters sent to and from the Levant, as
well as travel literature written by both Christians and Muslims, have provided a more
personal and immediate view of the political, social and cultural life that was found in the
crusader states.56 These provide only a snapshot of an individual’s impressions of events
at a specific time and so are limited in what they can tell us about overall life in the East,
but they can provide an impression of life within certain limits.57 Administrative and law
texts, both from the military orders and the crusader states, provide a window into the day
to day running and laws of these institutions and their codified, if not always practical,
attitudes towards the indigenous peoples within their lands.58 Finally, chivalric literature,
such as chansons de geste, epic poems about heroic Christian warriors and their
encounters with Muslim enemies, provide a window into the impressions and attitudes of
the laity towards Muslims. The chansons were meant for a public audience and would be
55
Phillips, Holy Warriors, 79; Colin Morris, “Propaganda for War the Dissemination of the Crusading
Ideal in the Twelfth Century,” Studies in Church History 20 (1983): 86.
56
Malcolm Barber and Keith Bate, Letters from the East: Crusaders, Pilgrims and Settlers in the 12th-13th
centuries, ed. Malcolm Barber and Keith Bate (Farnham: Ashgate Publishing Limited, 2010), 44-91;
Theoderich, “Theoderich’s Description of the Holy Places (Circa 1172 A.D.),” in Palestine Pilgrims’ Text
Society, vol, 5, trans. Aubrey Stewart (1896; repr., New York: AMS Press, 1971); John of Wurzburg,
“Description of the Holy Land (A.D. 1160-1170),” in Palestine Pilgrims’ Text Society, vol. 5, trans. Aubrey
Stewart (1896; repr., New York: AMS Press, 1971); Benjamin of Tudela, The Itinerary of Benjamin of
Tudela: Travels in the Middle Ages, trans. Masaʻot shel Rabi Binyamin, intro. Michael A. Signer, Marcus
Nathan Adler, and A. Asher (Malibu, California: Joseph Simon, 1987); Ibn Jubayr, The Travels of Ibn
Jubayr: Being the Chronicle of a Mediaeval Spanish Moor Concerning his Journey to the Egypt of Saladin,
the Holy Cities of Arabia, Baghdad the City of the Caliphs, the Latin Kingdom, ed. and trans. R. J. C.
Broadhurst (London: Camelot Press Ltd., 1952); Nasir-i-Khusrau, “Diary of a Journey Through Syria and
Palestine (in 1047),” in Palestine Pilgrims’ Text Society, vol. 4, trans. Guy Le Strange, facsimile of 1893
edition (New York: AMS Press, 1971).
57
Kedar, “The Subjected Muslims,” 138.
58
Colonel E. J. King, ed., The Rule Statutes and Customs of the Hospitallers 1099-1310 (New York: AMS
Press, 1980); J. M. Upton-Ward, trans., The Rule of the Templars: The French Text of the Rule of the Order
of the Knights Templar (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 1992); Malcom Barber, and Keith Bate, ed. and
trans., The Templars: Selected Sources Translated and Annotated (New York: Manchester University
Press, 2002); M. Le Comte Beugnot, ed., Recueil des Historiens des Croisades, Lois I and II (1841-43;
repr., Farnborough: Gregg International Publishers Ltd., 1967).
23
told in courts and after tournaments, encouraging skilled fighters to go on crusade.59
Courtly literature formed a propaganda that worked outside the official papal message of
the crusades. It served to encourage lay audiences to take up the cross. When taken
together these sources provide an extensive textual view of the military, social, political
and religious interactions between the elite members of crusader and Muslim society.
Chapter Overview
Through the use of the many varied primary sources available, this study explores the
nature of the group identities, in particular the prescriptive religious identity, of elite
Europeans who came to the Levant between 1145 and 1192, and how direct contact with
Muslims challenged that prescriptive religious identity. It explores the degree and type of
accommodation Latin Christians engaged in with Muslim enemies. This study will first
examine the ideological worlds of Christians and Muslims, the preconceptions and
assumptions that helped shape their initial responses to the ‘other,’ and then the group
identities that experienced different levels of accommodation with Muslims, including
short-term crusaders, members of military orders, and permanent settlers.
Chapter One will examine the ideological context of the Second and Third Crusades and
argue that the prescriptive religious ideology of Christianity shaped and informed the
initial contact of Latin Christians with Muslims and that of Muslims with Christians. The
Christians who came to the East had specific preconceptions and stereotypes about
Muslims, often shaped by teachings of the clergy. The clergy also had a significant role in
59
Phillips, Holy Warriors, 171; Maurice Keen, Chivalry, 2nd ed. (New Haven: Yale University Press,
2005), 33-4, 107-9; Morris, “Propaganda for War,” 100.
24
shaping the Christian view on holy war against Muslims, and the spiritual significance of
Jerusalem, the prize for which the crusaders fought. These areas made up some of the
significant ideological beliefs that influenced initial interactions with Muslims, and were
some of the ideas and beliefs that would be challenged by actual contact.60
Chapter Two will examine the short-term elite crusaders who came to the East to fight in
holy wars against the Muslims who threatened Jerusalem and the Christians of the Holy
Land. This study accepts the position of scholars such as Sarah Buchanan, Lesley
Johnson, Alan Murray and Jonathan Riley-Smith who have argued that the crusaders
formed a group based on their religious convictions that transcended their national,
regional, linguistic, and political identities. 61 The elite crusaders who came for only a
short period had the least amount of time in which to have their prescriptive beliefs
challenged by direct contact with Muslims. The majority of their contact came through
military encounters or diplomatic negotiations, which could often be characterized by
divergent accommodation. However, such contacts still sometimes had an impact on
individual and group beliefs and resulted in convergent accommodation, such as through
the creation of shared gestures of diplomacy. As Jubb has argued, one significant group
identity that did provide a serious, and sometimes overriding, challenge to the religious
beliefs of the crusaders came through their participation and identification with the
60
Norman Daniel, Heroes and Saracens: An Interpretation of the Chansons de Geste (Edinburgh:
Edinburgh University Press, 1984), 2; Riley-Smith and Riley-Smith, introduction to The Crusades: Idea
and Reality, 7; Christie and Gerish, “Parallel Preachings,” 114; H. E. J. Cowdrey, “Christianity and the
Morality of Warfare during the First Century of Crusading,” in The Experience of Crusading: 1. Western
Approaches, ed. Marcus Bull and Norman Housley (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 176.
61
Constable, “The Historiography of the Crusades,” 25; Riley-Smith, “The Crusading Movement and
Historians,” 10; Riley-Smith The First Crusaders, 28; Asbridge, The Crusades, 11, 102; Constable,
“Medieval Charters as a Source,” 81-3. Riley-Smith, “Peace Never Established,” 87-102; Buchanan, “A
Nascent National Identity,” 919-20; Johnson, “Imagining Communities,” 4-5.
25
system of chivalry. The individual identity of leaders as elites could also serve as a bridge
to convergent accommodation, one notable example being the chivalric personal
relationship that developed between King Richard I of England and Salah al-Din’s
brother, Al-`Adil.62
The elite members of the military orders, in particular the Templars (Knights of the
Temple of Solomon of Jerusalem) and Hospitallers (Hospital of St John of Jerusalem),
are the subject of the third chapter. The military orders were permanent organizations in
the Holy Land, which combined a monastic life with knighthood. They saw their work as
a way to live a religious life, combining warfare and charity, a fact that could lead to
contradictions in the response of the members to the Muslims with whom they
interacted.63 Both orders became military orders, though the Hospital started as a
charitable organization, committed to the defence and protection of pilgrims and the
crusader states. As members of religious orders, the prescriptive ideological beliefs of
Christianity were very important to the elite members of the orders, and they led to much
divergent accommodation, with the orders becoming some of the fiercest opponents the
Muslims faced.64 However, the longer terms of service the brothers served led to greater
62
Margaret A. Jubb, “The Crusaders’ Perceptions of Their Opponents,” in The Crusades, ed. Helen
Nicholson (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005), 231-6; Margaret A. Jubb, “Enemies in the Holy War,
but Brothers in Chivalry: The Crusaders’ View of their Saracen Opponents,” in Aspects de l’epopee
romane: Mentalites – ideologies – intertextualites, ed. Hans van Dijk and Willem Noomen (Groningen:
Forsten, 1995): 253-5; Baha’ al-Din, The Rare and Excellent History of Saladin, 185; Giles, Coupland, and
Coupland, “Accommodation Theory,” 18.
63
Tom Licence, “The Military Orders as Monastic Orders,” Crusades 5 (2006): 53; Sophia Menache, “The
Military Orders in the Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem,” in Knights of the Holy Land, ed. Silvia Rozenberg
(Jerusalem: The Israel Museum, 1999), 137; Innocent II, “Innocent II to the Templars (Omne datum
optimum), 29 March 1139,” in The Crusades: Idea and Reality, 1095-1274, ed. and trans. Jonathan and
Louise Riley-Smith (London: Edward Arnold, 1981), 93.
64
Jonathan Riley-Smith, The Knights of St. John in Jerusalem and Cyprus, c. 1050-1310 (London:
Macmillan, 1967), 75; Helen Nicholson, The Knights Hospitaller (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 2001),
23; Ibn al-Athir, The Chronicle, vol. 2, 324.
26
contact with Muslims, and in many cases led to more instances of convergent
accommodation. Their longer terms of service meant the orders were more aware of the
political and military intricacies of the crusader states and this led them to engage more
readily in diplomatic negotiations, and develop convergent diplomatic relationships with
surrounding Muslims. This allowed them, with their limited numbers, to continue to
protect the crusader states, without risking undue harm.65 As longer term residents of the
Levant, the members of the order also came into more frequent contact with peasants and
slaves who worked on their estates, not just with other elites. The orders engaged in
peaceful spatial convergence with these workers. At times the orders made personal
contacts with individual Muslims, developing relatively friendly relations, as well as
sharing certain meaningful religious sites with Muslims who equally recognized their
sacred nature.66 For the Hospitallers, additional convergent accommodation occurred in
their Hospital where they worked with Muslim patients and doctors, even adopting some
Muslim medical practices. While members of the order did not generally experience
intellectual convergence with other Muslims, this did occur in a limited nature through
their medical practice.67 Despite their often fierce military response to Muslims, the
military orders did engage in more convergent accommodation with Muslims than did the
65
Riley-Smith, The Crusades: A Short History, 59; Alan Forey, “The Emergence of the Military Order in
the Twelfth Century,” Journal of Ecclesiastical History 36, no. 2 (April 1985): 184; Alan Forey, “The
Military Orders and the Conversion of Muslims in the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries,” Journal of
Medieval History 28 (2002): 11-12.
66
Riley-Smith, The Knights of St. John in Jerusalem, 75, 78; Helen Nicholson, Templars, Hospitallers and
Teutonic Knights (New York: Leicester University Press, 1993), 131; Nicholson, The Knights Templar, 77,
79.
67
Jonathan Riley-Smith, Templars and Hospitallers as Professed Religious in the Holy Land (Notre Dame:
University of Notre Dame Press, 2010), 2, 26; Jonathan Riley-Smith, “The Military Orders and the East,
1149-1291,” in Knighthoods of Christ: Essays on the History of the Crusades and the Knights Templar,
Presented to Malcolm Barber, ed. Norman Housley and Malcolm Barber (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007), 147,
149; Susan B. Edgington, “Medical Care in the Hospital of St John in Jerusalem,” in The Military Orders
Volume 2: Welfare and Warfare, ed. Helen Nicholson (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1998), 28; Susan B. Edgington,
“Oriental and Occidental Medicine in the Crusader States,” in The Crusades and the Near East, ed. Conor
Costick (New York: Routledge, 2011), 208.
27
crusaders. However, their religious convictions, and the fact that members did not remain
permanently in the East, meant that convergence did remain more limited than that of the
settlers, with the pursuit of holy war remaining an important part of their identity.
The final category to be examined is the elite members of the Latin settlers in the
crusader states. Alan Murray has suggested that the settlers who settled in the East
abandoned their previous identity as members of European countries and came to identify
themselves collectively as Franks. 68 Of all the Christians who came to the East, it was the
Franks who developed the most complex relationships with Muslims, and who engaged
in the most convergent accommodation. The Franks did still experience divergent
accommodation, fighting holy wars against Muslim enemies when the crusader states
were threatened, but they also developed more extensive forms of diplomacy through
learning Arabic, and more extensive shared gestures than the other groups. The Franks
chose not to live directly among Muslims, instead settling in areas inhabited by native
Christians, their religious identity providing direction to their settlement habits. They did,
however, adopt some of the physical trappings of Muslim culture, such as food and
clothing. This was an asymmetrical convergence though, for they actively tried to prevent
Muslims from adopting Frankish styles of dress. There was also a greater degree of
intermarriage between Franks and indigenous Christians than between Franks and
Muslims, for intermarriage generally only occurred when one party had converted to the
faith of the other, another way in which convergence remained limited, and where the
religious identities of the Franks and Muslim played a limiting part. However, the Franks
did develop more identities that offered paths to convergent accommodation, becoming
68
Murray, “National Identity,” 116; Murray, “Ethnic Identity,” 64.
28
engaged in the economic, social, and political life of the Levant. 69 Italian merchants,
though at times committed to the crusading ideal, established significant trade
connections with Muslims, and traded with Muslims during times of war, even
sometimes trading war materials with Muslims, an action that worked to the detriment of
the crusader states.70 Where the greatest intellectual convergence happened was through
the practice of medicine, as happened with the military orders. 71 Religious identity,
though, as in the case of the other groups in question, remained an important identity for
the settlers. While the more extensive contact experienced by settlers did lead to more
convergent accommodation than that experienced by other groups, their identity as
Christians required the continued restriction and exclusion of Muslims in the new power
structure of the crusader states, and the control of the political rights of their Muslim
subjects. Conversion remained the only way truly to enter the group, and this remained a
limited occurrence throughout the crusades.72
69
Benjamin Z. Kedar, “Some New Sources on Palestinian Muslims Before and During the Crusades,” in
Die Kreuzfahrerstaaten als multikulturelle Gesellschaft Einwanderer und Minderheiten im 12 und 13, ed.
Hans Eberhard Mayer (Munchen: Oldenbourg, 1997), 138; Asbridge, “The ‘Crusader’ Community at
Antioch,” 324; Daniella Talmon-Heller, “Arabic Sources on Muslim Villagers under Frankish Rule,” in
From Clermont to Jerusalem: The Crusades and Crusader Societies, 1095-1500, ed. Alan V. Murray
(Turnhout: Brepols, 1998), 106, 111-13; Daniella Talmon-Heller, “Muslims and Eastern Christians under
Frankish Rule in the Land of Israel,” in Knights of the Holy Land: The Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem, ed.
Silvia Rozenberg (Jerusalem: Israel Museum, 1999), 43-5.
70
David Jacoby, “The Supply of War Materials to Egypt in the Crusader Period,” Jerusalem Studies in
Arabic and Islam 25 (2001): 106; David Abulafia, “Trade and Crusade, 1050-1250,” in Cross Cultural
Convergences in the Crusader Period, ed. Michael Goodich, Sophia Menache and Sylvia Schein (New
York: P. Lang, 1995), 1, 14, 16; David Abulafia, The Great Sea: A Human History of the Mediterranean
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011); 290; Tyerman God’s War, 265-6.
71
Piers D. Mitchell, Medicine in the Crusades: Warfare, Wounds and the Medieval Surgeon (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2004), 106; Ann F. Woodings, “The Medical Resources and Practices of the
Crusader States in Syria and Palestine 1096-1193,” Medical History 15, no. 3 (1971): 273-4.
72
Kedar, “The Subjected Muslims,” 156; Riley-Smith, “Government and the Indigenous,” 126, 129;
Hamilton, “Knowing the Enemy,” 380.
29
Ultimately, this study concludes that regardless of how open to accommodation any
individual person or group was, the dominant prescriptive ideology of Christian faith
meant that straying too far from these beliefs would ultimately lead to delegitimization of
Christians within any of the three groups. This held true for Muslims as well. This meant
that while longer and deeper contact did lead to greater amounts of convergent
accommodation, as well as legitimate relationships between Latin Christians and
Muslims, ultimately a barrier remained between the two faiths, and it was only through
the acceptance of another faith, and often not even then, that one could become part of
the other group, regardless of the many other identities one could hold in common with
an ‘other.’
30
CHAPTER ONE: THE IDEOLOGICAL CONTEXT OF THE SECOND AND THIRD
CRUSADE
The initial interactions of Christian crusaders with Muslims in the Holy Land were
shaped to a great extent by the crusaders’ collective identity as members of Latin
Christendom and their Muslim opponents’ collective identity as members of Islam, and
their respective acceptance of some of the group beliefs that accompanied those
identities.1 This study does not argue that either Latin Christians or Muslims were ever
homogenous groups with uniform beliefs and goals. Many subgroups existed within each
religion, and individuals also possessed many other group identities that had distinct
priorities and beliefs that affected their actions. Nevertheless, both religions provided an
overarching prescriptive ideology that defined members of the other religion as a distinct
and to some degree unpalatable ‘other.’ Those prescriptive beliefs were important in
forming the Christians’ initial impressions of, and reactions towards, Muslims in the Holy
Land, as well as Muslims’ reactions towards the Latin Christians. Both Latin Christianity
and Islam held many prescriptive beliefs that separated Christians and Muslims, but this
chapter will focus on three aspects that were particularly important in the initial
encounters of Christians and Muslims: negative stereotypes and preconceptions about the
other propagated by each religion, the sacredness of Jerusalem to both groups and the
desire to possess it exclusively, and the concepts of holy war against those outside the
faith developed by both groups. These prescriptive beliefs should have left no room for
compromise, and often did lead to divergent and hostile responses towards one another,
such as frequent holy war against each other, that accentuated these differences. All
1
Bar-Tal, Group Beliefs, 3, 41, 58.
31
groups are, however, dynamic in nature, and subject to change with exposure to external
forces. With increased contact between Christians and Muslims, the attitudes and actions
of the crusaders towards Muslims did change, often leading to a greater respect and
willingness to engage in limited convergent accommodation, particularly on an individual
level among the elites.2 This chapter explores the prescriptive beliefs that brought the
crusaders to the East and coloured their initial impressions, attitudes and actions towards
the Muslims. Further chapters will examine the ways in which these beliefs were
challenged through interaction with Muslims or by the primacy of other group identities
and their attendant beliefs and needs, leading to some limited forms of convergent
accommodation.
Every group centres itself on the belief that it is a group, but also on a collection of other
beliefs that define its nature, purpose and boundaries. These help the group to define who
belongs within a group and who is an ‘other.’3 For Christians in Western Europe,
Muslims stood outside of their religious group beliefs. Most crusaders internalized
stereotypes and preconceptions about Muslims before arriving in the Holy Land. These
helped to identify Muslims as belonging outside the Christian fold, and reinforced the
group identity of Christianity in the attitudes of crusaders. These ideas are evident in the
writings of clerics and other crusaders. These perceptions often had little basis in reality,
since few people in Western Europe outside Iberia and Southern Italy had ever had direct
contact with Muslims.4 Most of these preconceptions were negative and denigratory of
2
Bar-Tal, Group Beliefs, 79; Gallois and Callan, “Interethnic Accommodation,” 246; Giles, Coupland, and
Coupland, “Accommodation Theory,” 27-8.
3
Bar-Tal, Group Beliefs, 2, 37.
4
Daniel, Heroes and Saracens, 2.
32
Muslims. Norman Housley explains that Muslims “were depicted as brutal, sadistic,
greedy and lascivious people who captured, enslaved and tortured Christians. The atrocity
stories featured in crusade sermons and the like drew liberally on such terms.”5 Muslims
were often described in chronicles and other literature as polytheistic pagans who
worshiped their own ‘trinity’ of Muhammad, Tervagant and Apollo. 6 The Cistercian
Abbot of Clairvaux, and mentor of Pope Eugenius, Bernard (1090-1153), referred to the
Muslims of the Levant as “dogs,” “swine,” and “pagans.”7 Other chronicles, serving both
to record historical events and as propaganda to encourage others to go on crusade,
referred to Muslims variously as a “vile and filthy race,” “curs,”8 a “despised and base
race,”9 “adversaries of the Cross,” “swine,” “dogs,” 10 “Philistines,”11 a “fiendish race,”12
5
Housley, Fighting for the Cross, 210; Penny J. Cole, “‘O God, the heathen have come into your
inheritance’ (Ps. 78.1) The Theme of Religious Pollution in Crusade Documents, 1095-1188,” in Crusaders
and Muslims in Twelfth-Century Syria, ed. Maya Shatzmiller (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1993), 100-1.
6
Jubb, “The Crusaders’ Perceptions,” 229, 231; Cole, “O God,” 100-1; Farhad Daftary, “The Isma’ilis and
the Crusaders: History and Myth,” in The Crusades and the Military Orders: Expanding the Frontiers of
Medieval Latin Christianity, ed. Zsolt Hunyadi and Jozsef Laszlovszky (Budapest: Department of Medieval
Studies, Central European University, 2001), 34; Marcus Milwright, “Reynald of Chatillon and the Red Sea
Expedition of 1182-83,” in Noble Ideals and Bloody Realities: Warfare in the Middle Ages, ed. Niall
Christie and Maya Yazigi (Leiden: Brill, 2006), 242; Dorothy L. Sayers, The Song of Roland
(Hamondsworth: Penguin Books Ltd., 1960), 51, 75; Ambroise, The Crusade of Richard Lion-Heart, trans.
Merton Jerome Hubert, ed. John L. La Monte (New York: Octagon Books, 1976), 218; Susan B. Edgington
and Carol Sweetenham, trans., The Chanson d’Antioche: An Old French Account of the First Crusade
(Farnham: Ashgate, 2011), 103, 105, 138, 177, 187, 198.
7
Translated in Bernard of Clairvaux, “St Bernard to the Eastern Franks and the Bavarians,” in The
Crusades: Idea and Reality, 1095-1274, ed. and trans. Jonathan and Louise Riley-Smith (London: Edward
Arnold, 1981), 95.
8
Translated in Ambroise, Estoire de la Guerre Sainte, vol. 2 63-4. “Genz vils e ordes, la gent culvert.”
Ambroise, Estoire de la Guerre Sainte, vol. 1, 35-6.
9
Translated in Fulcher of Chartres, “Urban II (1088-1099): Speech at Council of Clermont, 1095, Five
Versions of the Speech,” Internet Medieval Sourcebook, last modified November 4, 2011,
http://www.fordham.edu/halsall/source/urban2-5vers.asp.
10
Translated in Otto of Freising, The Deeds of Frederick Barbarossa, 77. “Crucis adversarii; canibus;
porcis.” G. Waitz, ed., Ottonis et Rahewini Gesta Friderici I, Imperatoris (Hanover and Leipzig: Impensis
Biblipolii Hahniani, 1912), 61-2.
11
Translated in The Wurzburg Annalist, “Failure of the Second Crusade,” in Chronicles of the Crusades:
Eye-Witness Accounts of the Wars between Christianity and Islam, ed. Elizabeth Hallam (Godalming,
Surrey: CLB International, 1997), 147.
12
Translated in Nicholson, The Chronicle of the Third Crusade, 90, 33. “Gens larvalis nimis, Gentiles.”
William Stubbs, ed., Itinerarium Peregrinorum et Gesta Regis Ricardi (London: Longman, Green,
Longman, Roberts, and Green, 1864), 83, 15.
33
“crafty,”13 and the Antichrist.14 These stereotypes often painted Muslims as inferior
humans, or less than human, and possessing a religion that stood in direct opposition to
Christianity. Through such writings, Christian authors enhanced their own group beliefs
in the superiority of their faith and created boundaries between themselves and Muslims
who did not belong within their group.
In a similar fashion to Christians who portrayed Muslims in a derogatory manner,
Muslim writers shored up the Islamic group identity by identifying the Christians from
Europe as a distinct and inferior ‘other’ in ways that were often derogatory. Ibn al-Athir
(1160-1233) was a chronicler whose family was connected to the Zengid dynasty (Zengi
and Nur al-Din) and, though he did not work directly for them as did his father and
brother, his close connections to the dynasty caused him to present favourably the deeds
of those leaders, including their exploits against the crusaders.15 In his writings Ibn alAthir called the crusaders “monstrous devils,” “devilish,” “infidels.” 16 The chroniclers
Baha al-Din Ibn Shaddad and `Imad al-Din were both employed by Salah al-Din and
were therefore predisposed, much like Ibn al-Athir, to be critical of the crusaders,
presenting the sultan as a great leader of jihad. `Imad al-Din spoke of the crusaders as
“adorers of the false God,”17 “shadowy abominations,”18 “idolaters,”19 and the “dregs of
13
Translated in Nicholson, The Chronicle of the Third Crusade, 203. “Versipelles.” Stubbs, Itinerarium
Peregrinorum, 213.
14
Translated in Giulio Cipollone, “From Intolerance to Tolerance: The Humanitarian Way, 1187-1216,” in
Tolerance and Intolerance: Social Conflict in the Age of the Crusades, ed. Michael Gervers and James M.
Powell. (Syracuse, New York: Syracuse University Press, 2001), 30-1.
15
D. S. Richards, introduction to The Chronicle of Ibn al-Athir, 1.
16
Translated in Ibn al-Athir, The Chronicle, vol.2, 254, 276.
17
Translated in Imad al-Din, “The Sultan Saladin and His Army Enter Frankish Territory,” in Arab
Historians of the Crusades, ed. Francesco Gabrieli (New York: Dorset Press, 1969), 128.
18
Translated in Imad al-Din, “The Fall of Tiberias,” in Arab Historians of the Crusades, ed. Francesco
Gabrieli (New York: Dorset Press, 1969), 135.
34
humanity.”20 The insults used by the chroniclers that most separated their beliefs from the
crusaders, creating clear group boundaries, were those that dealt with the core of the
Christian faith, the belief in the Trinity (God as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit – a belief all
Muslims firmly rejected). Thus they referred to Christians as “people of the Trinity,” 21
“polytheists,”22 “Hypostatics,”23 and “Trinitarians.”24 Rulers such as Salah al-Din used
such rhetoric to help unite potentially disparate groups of Muslims into fighting against
Christians.25
Through stereotypes and propaganda, Christians and Muslims provided an image of the
‘other’ that emphasized the many differences they perceived to exist between them.
However, there were some similar beliefs and ideas between the faiths that also led to
conflict. These similarities rested around the overarching nature of their faiths, viewing
unbelievers as decidedly inferior, though conversion was never a priority for either faith.
Both religions also attached great importance to Jerusalem as one of the sacred spaces of
their faith. Christians and Muslims between 1145 and 1192 sought to hold Jerusalem in
their exclusive control, asserting their faith’s claim to the city. Jerusalem would remain a
19
Translated in Imad al-Din, “The Capture of the Great Cross on the Day of Battle,” in Arab Historians of
the Crusades, ed. Francesco Gabrieli (New York: Dorset Press, 1969), 136.
20
Translated in Imad al-Din, “Jerusalem Reconquered,” in Arab Historians of the Crusades, ed. Francesco
Gabrieli (New York: Dorset Press, 1969), 147.
21
Translated in Imad al-Din, “The Account of the Battle Given by Saladin’s own Secretary and Chronicler
of his Military Campaigns, Imad ad-Din al-Isfahani, Gives quite a Different Perspective,” in Chronicles of
the Crusades: Eye-Witness Accounts of the Wars between Christianity and Islam, ed. Elizabeth Hallam
(Godalming, Surrey: CLB International, 1997), 158.
22
Translated in Ibn al-Qalanisi, Damascus Chronicle, 278, 288.
23
Translated in Imad al-Din, “The Sultan Saladin and His Army Enter Frankish Territory,” 128.
24
Translated in Imad al-Din, “The Fall of Tiberias,” 136.
25
William J. Hamblin, “Muslim Perspectives on the Military Orders during the Crusades,” Brigham Young
University Studies, 40, no. 2 (2001): 105; France, The Crusaders and the Expansion, 140; Housley,
“Saladin’s Triumph,” 18-19; Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 172, 184-8.
35
point of contention throughout the crusades as both faiths sought to possess and control it
exclusively.
The crusaders were united in their belief in the spiritual and historical significance of the
city of Jerusalem, and the importance of keeping it in Christian possession. Its
significance was rooted in its religious history. 26 Christians believed that Jesus had been
the fulfillment of the Jewish scriptures, their Old Testament, and it was in Jerusalem that
many of the Old Testament fathers had fulfilled their faith. Christians believed the city
held the locations of Jacob’s dream, the threshing floor of King David, the Temple of
Solomon (Templum Domini), and the rock upon which Abraham was called by God to
sacrifice his son Isaac.27
Of even greater importance to the Christians’ religious identity and its ties to Jerusalem
was its connection to Jesus Christ. Jerusalem, as well as the surrounding Holy Land, was
where Jesus had performed his many miracles in life. The city was also where Christians
believed he had been crucified and resurrected, bringing salvation to all believers. 28 As
Riley-Smith explains, Jerusalem provided Christians with a tangible and physical
manifestation of their faith. It was “the place where God had redeemed mankind and in
26
Riley-Smith, The First Crusaders, 25; Bar-Tal, Group Beliefs, 36-7.
Hunt Janin, Four Paths to Jerusalem: Jewish, Christian, Muslim and Secular Pilgrimages, 1000 BCE to
2001 CE (Jefferson, N.C.: McFarland & Co., 2002), 21; The Umayyads: The Rise of Islamic Art (Beirut,
Lebanon: Arab Institute for Research and Publishing, 2000), 44; T. S. R. Boase, Castles and Churches of
the Crusading Kingdom (Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1967), 16; Nicholson, The Knights Hospitaller,
1.
28
Riley-Smith and Riley-Smith, introduction to The Crusades: Idea and Reality, 7; Christie and Gerish,
“Parallel Preachings,” 114; Guibert of Nogent, “Urban II (1088-1099): Speech at Council of Clermont,
1095, Five Versions of the Speech,” Internet Medieval Sourcebook, last modified November 4, 2011,
http://www.fordham.edu/halsall/source/urban2-5vers.asp; Riley-Smith, The First Crusaders, 24; Nicholson,
The Knights Templar, 19.
27
36
which his presence still lingered in the objects he had touched, the streets he had walked,
the ground that had soaked up his blood, the sepulchre in which he had been buried.” 29
The Dome of the Rock, the same rock upon which Abraham’s faith had been tested, was
also believed to be where Jesus had preached. Around the tomb where the crusaders
believed Christ’s body had been laid before he was resurrected, the crusaders constructed
the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.30
Christians venerated Jerusalem’s sacred character not just for what had happened in the
past, but also for the role it would play in their future salvation. Reflecting a theme
running throughout the Old and New Testaments, Christians believed Jerusalem would
serve as the location where Jesus would eventually return, heralding the final resurrection
and the end of days.31 It was in Jerusalem that the anti-Christ would first appear and
where tombs would split open and the bodies of those who had died would be
resurrected.
The spiritual significance of Jerusalem made it a destination for pilgrims from early on.
During the reign of the Roman emperor Constantine I (c. 280-337), his mother Helena
was said to have discovered a relic of the Holy Cross upon which Christ was crucified. 32
Since then pilgrimage to Jerusalem greatly increased and continued even after conquest
29
Riley-Smith and Riley-Smith, introduction to The Crusades: Idea and Reality, 7.
Nicholson, The Knights Hospitaller, 1; Riley-Smith, The First Crusaders, 24-5.
31
Riley-Smith and Riley-Smith, introduction to The Crusades: Idea and Reality, 7; Eva Baer, “Visual
Representations of Jerusalem’s Holy Islamic Sites,” in The Real and Ideal Jerusalem in Jewish, Christian
and Islamic Art, ed. Bianca Kühnel (Jerusalem: Center for Jewish Art, Hebrew University of Jerusalem,
1998), 392; Christie and Gerish, “Parallel Preachings,” 144.
32
Joseph Fr. Michaud, History of the Crusades, vol. 1, trans. W. Robson, (1852; repr., New York: AMS
Press, 1973), 1-2; Riley-Smith, The Crusades: A Short History, 44; John of Wurzburg, “Description of the
Holy Land,” 11; Theoderich, “Description of the Holy Places,” 7.
30
37
by Muslims in 638 CE. Those who came on pilgrimage, including eventually the
crusaders, saw Jerusalem and the Holy Land not as just a place containing sacred relics,
such as the True Cross on which Christ was crucified, but viewed the Holy Land as a
relic in itself to be worshipped.33 Pilgrims continued to come to Jerusalem right through
to the First Crusade (1095-99).
The sacred character of Jerusalem was also recognized by Muslims and over time became
important to their religious identity as well. Muslims did not consider Islam to be a new
religion, but rather they believed Muhammad had been granted revelations that brought
about the fulfillment of Judaism and Christianity. Because of this, Muslim group beliefs
also acknowledged the sacred character of many early prophets, and of Jesus, who was
recognized by Muslims as a prophet, although not as the son of God as Christians
believed.34 Because of their respect for these Judaic and Christian figures, Muslims also
venerated Jerusalem for its historical significance to early spiritual figures. Independently
of the Judaic and Christian faiths, Jerusalem held sacred significance for its connections
to the prophet Muhammad. Jerusalem was considered the third most important city within
Islam, after Mecca, where Muhammad first began to preach after receiving God’s
revelation, and Medina, where Muhammad moved his followers in 622 and where much
33
Riley-Smith, “Peace Never Established,” 90-95; Asbridge, The Crusades, 91; Housley, Fighting for the
Cross, 27; Phillips, The Second Crusade, 53.
34
Hadia Dajani-Shakeel, “Al-Quds: Jerusalem in the Consciousness of the Counter-Crusader,” in The
Meeting of Two Worlds, ed. Vladimir P. Goss (Kalamazoo: Western Michigan University, 1986), 202; Diya
al-Din Al-Muqaddasi, Al-Muqaddasi, The Best Divisions for Knowledge of the Regions: A Translation of
Ahsan al-Taqasim fi Ma`rifat al-Aqalim, trans. Collins, Basil Anthony (Reading: The Centre for Muslim
Contribution to Civilisation and Garnet Publishing Limited, 1994), 138. Palestinian geographer AlMuqaddasi (c. 945-c. 1000) praises Jerusalem for its connection to Abraham, Job, David, Solomon, Isaac
and Jesus.
38
of the Qur’an was revealed to him.35 Jerusalem was the city Muslims were first directed
to pray towards (the qibla) though it was eventually switched to Mecca.36 It was also the
location of the Night Journey, where Muhammad was taken by the angel Gabriel from
Mecca to Jerusalem and up to heaven in one night. 37 Muslims believed it was from this
rock on the haram (the hill on which many of Jerusalem’s holy sites were found) that the
final judgement would take place, as well as the resurrection of believers in the last
days.38 When the caliph Umar b. al-Khattab (r. 634-44) took control of Jerusalem in 638
he built the al-Aqsa mosque on the site of the previous Jewish Temple, while the caliph
`Abd al-Malik ibn Marwant erected the Dome of the Rock over the rock Muslims
believed to be the site of the Night Journey. 39 Islam’s group identity was historically
rooted, and, like Christianity’s, centred on the historical locations of their faith, as well as
the continued spiritual nature of them.
35
Karen Armstrong, Islam: A Short History (New York: Modern Library, 2002), xiii; Al-Muqaddasi, The
Best Divisions for Knowledge, 152. Al-Muqaddasi acknowledges that while Mecca and Medina are more
holy because of their close connection to the life of the prophet Muhammad, the end of days will occur in
Jerusalem and at that time Jerusalem will overshadow both Mecca and Medina.
36
Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 189; Dajani-Shakeel, “Al-Quds,” 202; Nasir-i
Khusrau, “Diary of a Journey,” 26, 43. Nasir-i Khusrau also identifies the significance of the first qibla in
Jerusalem on his journey there in 1047.
37
“Glory be to Him, Who transported His Servant one night from Masjid-i-Haram [the Holy Mosque] to
the distant Temple [al-masjid al-aqsa], whose surroundings We have blessed, so that We might who him
some of Our signs: the fact is that He alone is All-Hearing, All-Seeing.” Qur’an 17:1. Oleg Grabar, “The
Umayyad Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem,” in Early Islamic Art and Architecture, ed. Jonathan M. Bloom
(Aldershot: Ashgate, 2002), 226; M. Anwarul Islam and Zaid F. Al-Hamad, “The Dome of the Rock:
Origin of Its Octagonal Plan,” Palestine Exploration Quarterly 139, no. 2 (2007): 113; Nasir-i Khusrau,
“Diary of a Journey,” 34.
38
Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 190; Christie and Gerish, “Parallel Preachings,” 144;
Nasir-i Khusrau, “Diary of a Journey,” 24.
39
Amikam Elad, Medieval Jerusalem and Islamic Worship: Holy Places, Ceremonies, Pilgrimage (Leiden:
Brill, 1995), 24, 29; Nicholson, The Knights Templar, 19; Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic
Perspectives, 149; Dajani-Shakeel, “Al-Quds,” 209; Boase, Castles and Churches, 16; G. R. D. King,
“Islam, Iconoclasm, and the Declaration of Doctrine,” in Late Antique and Medieval Art of the
Mediterranean World, ed. Eva R. Hoffman (Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing Ltd., 2007), 220.
39
In 1099 the First Crusade (1095-99) reconquered Jerusalem from Muslims and the Latin
Christians established the city as the capital of the new kingdom of Jerusalem. They
reclaimed many of the Muslim holy sites, re-identifying the Dome of the Rock as the
location of the Lord’s Temple of the New Testament and converting it into an
Augustinian church called the Templum Domini.40 The al-Aqsa mosque was identified as
the Temple of King Solomon, the Templum Solomonis, which served first as King
Baldwin I’s (1100-18) residence, and later the headquarters of the Templars.41 The
crusaders believed these structures remained holy, despite the taint of previous Muslim
inhabitation, and needed not to be destroyed, but rather restored to their holy state.
While the crusaders re-appropriated Jerusalem’s sacred spaces for their own worship,
they did not permanently close the city to Muslims. After an initial slaughter of Muslims
during the conquest, Muslims were prevented from living within the city walls, but they
were not prevented from coming as pilgrims to worship.42 The al-Aqsa mosque and the
Dome of the Rock continued to have sections remain open for Muslim worship, as did
sections of other churches in cities around the Levant. 43 This tolerance did not amount to
acceptance of Muslims into the Christianity identity. The Muslims remained second-class
citizens, subject to Frankish rule.
40
Jonathan Riley-Smith, The Crusades: A History, 2nd ed. (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2005), 70;
Boase, Castles and Churches, 16; Benjamin of Tudela, The Itinerary, 83; William of Tyre, A History of
Deeds Done, vol. 2, 122-3.
41
Nicholson, The Knights Templar, 19; Benjamin of Tudela, The Itinerary, 83; Denys Pringle, “A Templar
Inscription from the Haram al-Sharif in Jerusalem,” Levant 21 (1989): 197.
42
Riley-Smith, The Crusades: A History, 70.
43
See for example Usama Ibn Munqidh, The Book of Contemplation, 147; Benjamin of Tudela, The
Itinerary, 83; Ibn Jubayr, The Travels of Ibn Jubayr, 272, 318.
40
The prescriptive religious beliefs of the crusaders and Muslims were widely accepted,
and ultimately caused each faith to view the ‘other’ as possessing an inferior religion.
These beliefs also encouraged both faiths to press their claims upon the city of Jerusalem
and the surrounding Holy Land in an exclusionary and sometimes violent fashion. This
was framed in the rhetoric of holy war and jihad and served as a form of divergent
accommodation.44 Holy war and jihad encouraged members of each faith to come
together in unified action against those whom they perceived as being beyond the
boundaries of their faith and a threat. For Christians the concept of religious warfare was
developed over time and by 1145 had become a significant factor in bringing the
crusaders to the Levant. The ideology of jihad began through revelations in the Qur’an
received by Muhammad and was developed by religious scholars (ulama) and legal
experts (muftis). By the time of the crusades, jihad was used by rulers and theologians to
frame Muslim actions towards the crusaders. As both sides refined their view of holy war
and jihad, these ideas both justified and constrained their interactions with one another.
While Jerusalem had long played a part in Christian group identity and pilgrims had
traveled to the Holy Land for hundreds of years to connect with a physical manifestation
of that identity, the crusades added a new facet to that journey – armed warfare to protect
Christianity’s sacred spaces. Christians had a long history of finding justification for war
within the structure of their faith. Over the course of the eleventh and twelfth centuries
the concept of just war merged with ideas of holy war, reaching a culmination in the
crusades. Holy war served as warfare that was not only legal (just war), but actively
44
Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 272; Cole, “O God,” 100-101; Giles, Coupland, and
Coupland, “Accommodation Theory,” 9, 27-8.
41
encouraged by God for a holy purpose. 45 The concept of holy war provided justification
and motivation for Western Europeans to turn away from war within Europe and to fight
God’s enemies, the Muslim infidels, as well as other pagans and heretics who threatened
the core beliefs and religious domains of Christendom.46
The Bible, the sacred text of Christianity and the root of many of its group beliefs, is
itself ambiguous about the use of violence and against whom it can legitimately be
directed. This ambiguity led to a shifting and changing of group beliefs over time in the
way the Church and society dealt with violence and its relation to sin. In the Old
Testament, God, in many instances, appears to approve and even encourage the Israelites
to fight in wars for their own survival.47 The New Testament is more ambiguous, but does
not forbid the use of violence outright. While Jesus often speaks about not using violence,
as in Matt. 5:9 and Matt. 26:52, he also speaks at the Temple of coming to bring division,
not peace.48 He also does not condemn the centurion he meets for his profession, but
declares that the centurion has more faith than the inhabitants of Israel. 49 Warfare, even in
the New Testament, could have spiritual merit in specific circumstances. These
45
Cowdrey, “Christianity and the Morality of Warfare,” 176; Asbridge, The Crusades, 15.
For primary documents regarding crusades within Europe against pagans see James A. Brundage, The
Crusades: A Documentary Survey (Milwaukee: The Marquette University Press, 1962), 93-109.
47
Instances are to be found particularly in the Pentateuch, Judges, King David’s Psalms and stories of the
Maccabees. Asbridge, The Crusades, 15: Cowdrey, “Christianity and the Morality of Warfare,” 176;
Jonathan Riley-Smith, The Crusades, Christianity, and Islam (New York: Columbia University Press,
2008), 10; Tyerman, God’s War, 31.
48
“Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword.”
Luke 12:49, 51. “I have come to bring fire on the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!...Do you
think I came to bring peace on earth? No, I tell you, but division.” Matt. 10:34 (NIV). “Blessed are the
peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God.” Matt. 5:9 (NIV). “Put your sword back in its
place…for all who draw the sword will die by the sword.” Matt. 26:52. Nicholson, The Knights
Hospitaller, 14; Frederick H. Russell, The Just War in the Middle Ages (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1975), 10; Asbridge, The Crusades, 15.
49
Nicholson, The Knights Hospitaller, 14.
46
42
ambiguities led Western European Christians to interpret the use of violence and warfare
in a variety of ways.
Early Christian theologians such as Origen (145/6-352/4 CE) generally rejected the idea
of public warfare, but when the Romans made Christianity the official state religion in
381, Rome’s brutal warfare had to be justified in Christian terms.50 Eusebius of Caesarea
(c. 260-c. 339) therefore distinguished between the clergy, who were not to participate in
warfare, and the laity, who could.51 Augustine of Hippo (354-430) took the concept of
just war even further, and it was he who would make the greatest contributions to the
concept of just war that would influence the crusaders. He asserted that war itself was not
inherently evil, but, rather, it was a love of violence that was evil. Peace was to be the
goal of all war, and war should be fought to restore a state of peace.52 He likewise
supported Eusebius’ distinction allowing soldiers to wage war, while preventing clergy
and private citizens from doing so.53 Augustine developed conditions to decide if a war
could be considered ‘just’ and therefore legitimate to participate in. For a war to be just
the cause must be just (causa justa), which meant righting a wrong committed in the past
or present. It had to be defensive in character, and be called by a legitimate, sanctioned
authority (auctoritas principis). Finally, those fighting had to possess a right intention
(intention recta); their motives have to be pure, with warfare being the only possible
means to achieve a justified outcome. Through these conditions warfare, which could so
50
Asbridge, The Crusades, 5-6; Tyerman, God’s War, 32-33; Russell, The Just War, 11-12; Christie and
Gerish, “Parallel Preachings,” 142; Cowdrey, “Christianity and the Morality of Warfare,” 176.
51
Tyerman, God’s War, 33; Russell, The Just War, 12.
52
Augustine, City of God (New York: Doubleday, 1958), 452-56; Russell, The Just War, 16; Frederick H.
Russell, “Love and Hate in Medieval Warfare: The Contribution of Saint Augustine,” Nottingham Medieval
Studies 31 (1987): 110-12; Cowdrey, “Christianity and the Morality of Warfare,” 186.
53
Russell, The Just War, 18, 22; Russell, “Love and Hate,” 112; Tyerman, God’s War, 33.
43
easily be sinful, could be sanctioned and justified.54 Augustine believed that war could be
not only a consequence of sin, but now also a remedy to sin.55 Just war was a way to
prevent sinners from perpetrating further wrongs. 56
With the collapse of the western half of the Roman Empire, from the sixth century
onwards, the complexities of Augustine’s arguments were lost and the group beliefs of
just war were adapted towards the localized political and social situations clerics found
themselves in.57 For example, Isidore of Seville (d. 636) in Visigothic Spain favoured an
approach in which a formal declaration of war was made to recover lost goods or to
punish or fend off enemies.58
This dispersion of beliefs did not last, and by the tenth century the Church’s teachings on
just war began to coalesce again. Concern began to return about the idea that though war
could be just, killing was still sinful and needed to be followed by penance. 59 This
concern brought the issue of just war back to a more central place in the beliefs of
Christians in Europe. The Peace and Truce of God movements developed out of these
concerns. The Peace of God movement that started late in the tenth century sought to
prohibit clergy, who were usually also members of the aristocracy, from participating in
54
Riley-Smith, What Were the Crusades?, 16; Tyerman, God’s War, 34; Riley-Smith, The Crusades: A
Short History, xxviii; Asbridge, The Crusades, 15.
55
Russell, The Just War, 16; Malcolm Barber, “The Social Context of the Templars,” in Crusaders and
Heretics, 12th-14th Centuries (Aldershot: Ashgate Publishing Limited, 1995), Essay VIII: 29; Tyerman,
God’s War, 34; Nicholson, The Knights Hospitaller, 14.
56
Russell, The Just War, 17; Jonathan Riley-Smith, “Crusading as an Act of Love,” in Crusaders and
Settlers in the Latin East, ed. Jonathan Riley-Smith (Farnham: Ashgate, 2008), 188.
57
Russell, The Just War, 27.
58
Russell, The Just War, 27; Cowdrey, “Christianity and the Morality of Warfare,” 177.
59
Cowdrey, “Christianity and the Morality of Warfare,” 181, 183; Asbridge, The Crusades, 15.
44
warfare as they had often done during the early Middle Ages. 60 It also sought to protect
monks, clergy, the weak, and poor from war, by having soldiers swear to protect the nonmilitary classes. 61 The Truce of God movement started at the beginning of the eleventh
century and restricted soldiers from fighting at specific times, including holiday days,
Sundays, etc.62 These movements sought to limit the effects of warfare, and, by
extension, the impact of sin.
Pope Gregory VII (1073-85) and Bishop Anselm II of Lucca (1073-86) both believed that
warfare could be just, but that killing was still inherently sinful, and they sought ways to
mediate that sin. They suggested that the sinfulness of soldiers could be tempered by
acting through love.63 In a letter to Italian bishops regard their soldiers Gregory wrote,
…as the duty of your office requires, you should most diligently warn them to
perform proper penance, and to keep good faith towards their leaders as befits
Christians. In all their deeds they should have before their eyes the fear and love
of God, and they should persevere in good works. And thus, strengthened by the
authority of ourself, or rather by the power of blessed Peter, absolve them from
their sins.64
60
James A. Brundage, “Crusades, Clerics and Violence: Reflections on a Canonical Theme,” in The
Experience of Crusading: 1. Western Approaches, ed. Marcus Bull and Norman Housley (New York:
Cambridge University Press, 2003), 148-9; “Peace of God, Proclaimed in the Synod of Charroux, 989,” in
A Source Book for Medieval History, ed. Oliver J. Thatcher and Edgar Holmes McNeal (New York:
Scribners, 1905), 412; Russell, The Just War, 34.
61
Jean Flori, “Knightly Society,” in New Cambridge Medieval History, ed. Paul Fouracre, et al., vol. 4
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995-2005), 164-5; Tyerman, God’s War, 43.
62
Flori, “Knightly Society,” 166; “Declaration of the Truce of God,” in The Crusades: A Reader, ed. S.J.
Allen and Emilie Amt (Peterborough, ON: Broadview Press, 2003), 28-31; Henry IV, “Decree of the
Emperor Henry IV Concerning a Truce of God; 1085 A.D.,” The Avalon Project: Documents in Law,
History and Diplomacy, last modified 2008, http://avalon.law.yale.edu/medieval/dechenry.asp; “Truce of
God – Bishopric of Terouanne,” Internet Medieval Sourcebook, last modified November 4, 2011,
http://www.fordham.edu/Halsall/source/t-of-god.asp.
63
Cowdrey, “Christianity and the Morality of Warfare,” 182-3; Tyerman, God’s War, 47-8; Ryan, “Holy
War,” 140.
64
Gregory VIII quoted in Cowdrey, “Christianity and the Morality of Warfare,” 183.
45
With this concept of love as mediating the effects of the sinfulness of war, Gregory began
the path towards the merging of just war with the concept of holy war that was so
significant to the crusades. Through love of God, and the proper intentions of that love,
warfare could become not only less sinful, but meritorious.
Up to the tenth century only just war was part of the consciousness of Christians in their
consideration of sin and its effect on their lives. Just war – a war fought within the legal,
secular sphere, called by a legitimate ruler, and fought to accomplish a limited objective –
was considered lawful, but still sinful. In the tenth century a doctrine of holy war
developed, and encompassed war that was actively supported by God, not just tolerated. 65
Holy war worked within the religious, transcendent sphere, as opposed to just war’s legal,
secular sphere. Historian H. E. J. Cowdrey explains holy war “is warfare undertaken
according to the purposes of God and with his self-effecting blessing; in an answer to
urgent prayer to him, God, by a judgement that is sure if unsearchable in wisdom and
unequivocal in its decisiveness, settles which side in a conflict is just and righteous.”66
The test to decide whether a war was a holy war was to ensure it conformed to God’s
will.67 The doctrine of holy war suggested that as long as Christians were following
God’s calling under the leadership of a legitimate authority, their actions would not be
considered sinful, but praiseworthy.
65
Cowdrey, “Christianity and the Morality of Warfare,” 176; Asbridge, The Crusades, 15; Christie and
Gerish, “Parallel Preachings,” 143; Morris, “Propaganda for War,” 79; Tyerman, God’s War, 45; Flori,
“Knightly Society,” 177.
66
Cowdrey, “Christianity and the Morality of Warfare,” 175.
67
Cowdrey, “Christianity and the Morality of Warfare,” 175; Jonathan Riley-Smith provides a simpler
definition of medieval holy war, “Holy war…may be defined as being considered to be authorized directly
or indirectly by God and as being fought to further what are believed to be his intentions.” Riley-Smith, The
Crusades, Christianity, and Islam, 14.
46
Augustine had not specifically addressed a concept of holy war in his framework and this
allowed for other theologians and scholars to develop their own interpretations in the late
eleventh and into the twelfth century. 68 In holy war God was declared to rest his
intentions and will with a single party, with only their aims being declared legitimate,
unlike just war where both sides could be equal in God’s eyes. 69 Yet, war still had to be
authorized by a legitimate authority in holy war, and by the 1070s the papacy was
considered such an authority. Soldiers were also recognized to hold a legitimate place in
society under the leadership of a legitimate authority. 70
Both Pope Gregory and Pope Urban II (1088-99) asserted the idea of the pope as a
legitimate authority to declare God’s will to fight a holy war. In 1074 Gregory tried to
call soldiers to aid fellow Christians against the Turks in the East, focusing specifically
on Jerusalem, but the campaign never transpired.71 Pope Urban was more successful in
his call to war. Robert the Monk’s (d. 1122) record of Urban’s speech at Clermont in
1095 records Urban calling soldiers to turn away from sinfully fighting fellow Christians
in Europe, and instead to put their efforts into a holy war against the Muslim infidel, “an
accursed race, a race utterly alienated from God.” 72 Though crusading would take on
68
Tyerman, God’s War, 34, 47; Russell, The Just War, 38; Asbridge, The Crusades, 15; Christie and
Gerish, “Parallel Preachings,” 143; Riley-Smith, The Crusades: A Short History, xxviii.
69
Riley-Smith, “Peace Never Established,” 88-9; Riley-Smith, The Crusades, Christianity, and Islam, 1112; Christie and Gerish, “Parallel Preachings,” 143.
70
Riley-Smith, “Peace Never Established,” 88-9; Christie and Gerish, “Parallel Preachings,” 143.
71
Tyerman, God’s War, 49-50; Patrick J. Ryan, “Holy War: A Comparative Study of a Religious and
Political Category,” Thought: Review of Culture and Ideas 58, no. 229 (1983): 140; Cowdrey, “Christianity
and the Morality,” 183-4; Riley-Smith and Riley-Smith, introduction to The Crusades: Idea and Reality, 5;
Christie and Gerish, “Parallel Preachings,” 143; Gregory VII, “Gregory VII: Call for a “Crusade”, 1074,”
Internet Medieval Sourcebook, last modified November 23, 1996,
http://www.fordham.edu/halsall/source/g7-cde1078.asp.
72
Translated in Robert the Monk, “Urban II (1088-1099): Speech at Council of Clermont, 1095, Five
Versions of the Speech,” Internet Medieval Sourcebook, last modified November 4, 2011,
47
many forms, in each incarnation there would be common elements: each was a holy war
that was fought for God; it was penitential in that going on crusade serving an act of
penance in and of itself; and it was authorized by the pope, a legitimate authority as
God’s representative on earth.73
In 1140, the Italian monk Gratian (d. c. 1159) wrote an influential book on canon law, the
Decretum, which systematically brought together centuries of thought from Augustine to
his own time.74 Like Augustine, Gratian concluded that violence and warfare were to be
used to prevent damage and to punish wrongdoing.75 Gratian asserted that not all warfare
was sinful – one’s internal disposition, or intention, was the most important factor in
deciding whether an action was sinful, not the outward action itself. Those who acted on
the command of a legitimate authority to punish a sinner and to prevent them from
committing further harm acted out of love and benevolence. It was this right intention
that legitimised their efforts.76
The doctrines of just war and holy war were very much present and central to crusaders’
group beliefs in the calls for the Second Crusade.77 After Zengi’s capture of the city and
principality of Edessa in 1144, Pope Eugenius III (1145-53) issued a call to crusade in
http://www.fordham.edu/halsall/source/urban2-5vers.asp; Maurice Keen, “War, Peace and Chivalry,” in
War and Peace in the Middle Ages, ed. Brian Patrick McGuire (Copenhagen: C.A, Reitzels, 1987), 96-7.
73
Riley-Smith, The Crusades, Christianity and Islam, 9; Riley-Smith and Riley-Smith, introduction to The
Crusades: Idea and Reality, 1; Riley-Smith, What Were the Crusades?, 15.
74
Russell, The Just War, 55; Cowdrey, “Christianity and the Morality,” 186.
75
Russell, The Just War, 57; Cowdrey, “Christianity and the Morality,” 187.
76
Russell, The Just War, 58, 64; Riley-Smith, “Crusading as an Act of Love,” 189. For example see
Phillips, The Second Crusade, 43.
77
France, The Crusades and the Expansion, 98-100; Eugenius III, “Quantum praedecessores,” 57-9;
Constable, “The Second Crusade as Seen by Conteomporaries,” 237-41, 247; Russell, The Just War, 36-7;
Bar-Tal, Group Beliefs, 57-8. For an in-depth discussion of the Second Crusade see Phillips, The Second
Crusade.
48
which he portrayed the disaster as the outcome of the sin of Christendom. It was therefore
the duty of all Christians, for the remission of that sin, to take up arms against the infidel
in an act of penance against God’s legitimate enemies and defend the Church in the
East.78 The Cistercian Abbot Bernard of Clairvaux (1090-1153) brought the developing
ideas of holy and just war to fruition in preaching for the Second Crusade. He effectively
synthesized Gregorian teachings on warfare with the crusading ideal. Bernard ascribed
control and direction of material warfare to the pope. Secular authorities were merely to
be the physical manifestation of that power and to carry out its wishes. 79 Bernard saw the
crusaders carrying out a new kind of warfare. Crusaders were militia, soldiers fighting for
God, whereas secular knights were malitia, driven by earthly desires.80 For Bernard, like
Gratian, intention was the most important factor in undertaking war. A just cause
undertaken with the right intention would lead to a successful outcome. When soldiers
killed unrighteous men for God’s cause, they did not commit homicide, but rather
‘malicide,’ killing the sin and unbelief they were fighting against. 81
In the period between 1145 and 1192, the idea that crusaders were fighting God’s
enemies was well-developed and this became a group belief and an important motivating
factor for both the short term crusaders and the military orders. It became a means of
78
Eugenius III, “Quantum praedecessores,” 57-9; Phillips, The Second Crusade, 37-8, 50-1, 58.
Russell, The Just War, 36; Sylvia Schein, “Bernard of Clairvaux’s Preaching of the Third Crusade and
Orality,” in Oral History of the Middle Ages: The Spoken Word in Context, ed. Gerhard Jaritz and Michael
Richter (Budapest: Central European University, Department of Medieval Studies, 2001), 189; Bernard of
Clairvuax, The Letters of St Bernard of Clairvaux, trans. Bruno Scott James (Stroud, Gloucestershire:
Sutton, 1998), 464.
80
Aryeh Grabois, “Militia and Malitia: The Bernardine Vision of Chivalry,” in The Second Crusade and
the Cistercians, ed. Michael Gervers (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1992), 49-50. Bernard of Clairvaux
makes this distinction for the Templars in Bernard of Clairvaux, In Praise of the New Knighthood: A
Treatise on the Knights Templar and the Holy Places of Jerusalem, trans. M. Conrad Greenia and intro.
Malcolm Barber, Cistercian Father Series 19B (Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias Press, 2010), 33-43.
81
Russell, The Just War, 37; Bernard of Clairvaux, In Praise of the New Knighthood, 39-40; Barber, “The
Social Context,” 32, 34; Phillips, The Second Crusade, 73.
79
49
divergent accommodation, bringing together the Christians in delineating the boundaries
between fellow Christians and enemies of other faiths.82 The preaching of clerics greatly
affected the crusaders’ approach towards their Muslim enemies and the way they saw the
intricate connection between their religious faith and warfare. They saw themselves as
fighting God’s enemies, and doing so with God’s approval in a holy war. The crusaders
were highly motivated for not only were they fighting God’s enemies (those who had
fallen away from the true faith and were flouting the laws of Christ) to protect God’s
land, but in the process they were achieving their own personal salvation as well. Success
in the Levant was deeply connected to both their own individual spiritual motivations and
well-being and their group identity as Christians.83
In a similar fashion to the crusaders, Muslims, by the time of the Second Crusade, were
brought together and motivated in their fight against the crusaders by a concept of holy
war – jihad. Jihad in the decades before the Second Crusade grew in its centrality as a
group belief among Muslims and served as a means of divergent accommodation among
Muslims, identifying them as a group that was unique and separate from other faiths
around them, providing a concept around which to unify and putting religious concerns
ahead of secular ones.84 Jihad for Muslims meant to struggle or strive to live in
accordance with the will of God.85 This was comprised of two components, a greater
82
Constable, “The Second Crusade as Seen by Contemporaries,” 225, 237-40; Giles, Coupland, and
Coupland, “Accommodation Theory,” 30.
83
Tyerman, God’s War, 248; Flori, “Knightly Society,” 179.
84
Christie and Gerish, “Parallel Preachings,” 139; Bar-Tal, Group Beliefs, 57-8; Giles, Coupland, and
Coupland, “Accommodation Theory,” 30.
85
John L. Esposito, Unholy War: War in the Name of Islam (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), 27;
Abdulaziz A. Sachedina, “The Development of Jihad in Islamic Revelation and History,” in Cross,
Crescent, and Sword, ed. James Turner Johnson and John Kelsay (Westport: Greenwood Press, 1990), 37;
50
jihad (al-jihad al-akbar) and a lesser jihad (al-jihad al-asghar). Greater jihad was the
struggle within oneself to follow the will of God and to struggle against one’s selfishness
and ego. Lesser jihad was a physical war against non-believers. The greater jihad was
considered the more noble pursuit.86 Jihad as a doctrine developed over time through the
interpretation of the Qur’an and hadith by many different people within their own
historical contexts, creating nuances in the concept over time.87 In the period from 114592 Muslim rulers such as Zengi, Nur al-Din and Salah al-Din interpreted jihad in
response to the threat posed by the crusaders, uniting their followers together to direct
military attentions against the Christian infidel, thus reducing conflict among Muslims
groups. The reclamation of Jerusalem and its importance as a sacred place became one of
the motivators to fight jihad.88
The roots of jihad are found in the seventh century. In seventh-century Arabia, warfare
and violence were the normal way of life, with many tribes gaining the necessities of life
through raiding. The prophet Muhammad received revelations from God, suggesting a
different way to live, to unite people from many tribes to live in a community devoted to
Ryan, “Holy War,” 134; Rudolph Peters, “Jihad,” in The Encyclopedia of Religion, ed. Mircea Eliade (New
York: Macmillan Publishing Company, 1987), 88.
86
Ryan, “Holy War,” 139; Christie and Gerish, “Parallel Preachings,” 142; Hillenbrand, The Crusades:
Islamic Perspectives, 97; Peters, “Jihad,” 88.
87
Esposito, Unholy War, 64; Roy Parviz Mottahedeh and Ridwan al-Sayyid, “The Idea of the Jihad in
Islam before the Crusades,” in The Crusades from the Perspective of Byzantium and the Muslim World, ed.
Angeliki E. Laiou and Roy Parviz Mottahedeh (Washington, D.C. : Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and
Collection, 2001), 23; Sachedina, “The Development of Jihad,” 35-6.
88
Esposito, Unholy War, 64; Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 118-19, 123, 141;
Sachedina, “The Development of Jihad,” 36; P. Partner, “Holy War, Crusade and Jihad: An Attempt to
Define Some Problems,” in Autour de la Premiere Croisade: Actes du Colloque de la Society for the Study
of the Crusades and the Latin East, ed. Michel Balard (Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne, 1996), 339;
Yehoshua Frenkel, Yehoshua. “Muslim Responses to the Frankish Dominion in the Near East, 1098-1291,”
in The Crusades and the Near East, ed. Conor Costick (New York: Routledge, 2011), 28.
51
a life following God. 89 This was a radical change to the way of life followed by most
people and after coming into conflict with the people of Mecca, Muhammad moved his
followers to Medina (the hijra) in 622. Because they were leaving the safety that was
provided by tribal associations, they were forced into a position where they had to defend
themselves physically. Because of this, jihad as a means of protection was addressed in
early Qur’anic verses. Surah 22:39-40 states, “Permission (to fight) has been granted to
those against whom war has been waged, because they have been treated unjustly, and
Allah is certainly able to help them. These are the people who have been expelled
unjustly from their homes only for the reason that they said, ‘Our Lord is Allah.’” 90 More
variants would be added to the original revelations and teachings over time.
Shortly after Muhammad’s death there was a split in the religious community. His
followers disagreed over who should lead the community, his father-in-law Abu Bakr,
believed by some to be the most religious man, or the head of the family, Muhammad’s
son-in-law Ali. The majority followed Abu Bakr, and became known as Sunnis, while
those who followed Ali became the Shi’ites.91 These two groups generally retained
similar beliefs about jihad. They both saw jihad as a communal and sometimes individual
struggle to follow God and to defend the Muslim community. They differed, however, in
who they believed could legitimately call a jihad. Sunnis believed the caliph, the political
leader of the Muslims, had the right to call jihad, while the Shi’ites believed that power
89
Esposito, Unholy War, 30, 38-9; Armstrong, Muhammad: A Biography of the Prophet, 46, 169; Ryan,
“Holy War,” 135.
90
Qur’an, Surah 22:39; Esposito, Unholy War, 31-2; Armstrong, Muhammad, 168; Peters, “Jihad,” 89.
91
Holt, The Age of the Crusades, 9; Robert Irwin, “Islam and the Crusades, 1096-1699,” in The Oxford
Illustrated History of the Crusades, ed. Jonathan Riley-Smith (New York: Oxford University Press, 1995),
218-19; Esposito, Unholy War, 37.
52
rested with the true successor to Muhammad, the imam. However, they believed the
Imam had been hidden from the world and therefore only defensive jihad could be
undertaken.92
In the first century of Islam, the community expanded dramatically, and it was believed
that Islam would eventually extend its faith over the entire world.93 The community
sought to replace unbelief with a religious society that brought justice and God’s will. 94
As the community expanded, legal scholars developed Sharia law and teachings on jihad,
based on the Qur’an, hadith (sayings of the prophet), and legal texts. The Shafi’i tradition
of law stated that jihad was a communal and perpetual duty and, in times of danger to the
community, it could become the duty of individuals to take up arms.95 In the eighth
century expansion slowed after Muslims led many unsuccessful attempts to overtake the
Byzantine city of Constantinople. These failures caused Muslims to realize that continued
expansion was not going to happen, and the community turned to stabilization rather than
conquest.96
With this stabilization Sharia law developed a distinction between the House of Islam
(dar al-Islam), the community within which all Muslims lived, and the House of War
92
Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 98; Esposito, Unholy War, 38-9; Christie and Gerish,
“Parallel Preachings,” 142; Sachedina, “The Development of Jihad,” 41, 44-5.
93
Mohhahedeh and al-Sayyid, “The Idea of the Jihad,” 28; Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic
Perspectives, 92.
94
Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 93; Esposito, Unholy War, 33; Sachedina, “The
Development of Jihad,” 37.
95
Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 97.
96
Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 93; Mottahedeh and al-Sayyid, “The Idea of the
Jihad,” 28.
53
(dar al-Harb), containing all people who were not part of the House of Islam. 97
Theoretically, there was to be perpetual conflict between these houses until all people had
either become Muslim or submitted to its authority, although for much of their history
conversion was not a focus for Muslims. Because of this distinction, a permanent peace
treaty between Muslims and anyone else was impossible under the law. All there could be
was a temporary truce that was to be no longer than 10 years, the time of the truce
between Muhammad and the Meccans.98 However, in the tenth century the `Abbasid
caliphate fragmented into a number of smaller dynasties and lost its political power. In
response to a lack of united power, it appears that peace with neighbouring powers
became more common than war. In addition to the House of Islam and the House of War,
jihad doctrine had added to it a House of Peace (dar al-sulh). Neighbouring non-Muslim
states could keep their autonomy and be exempt from attacks from Muslims as long as
they acknowledged Muslim overlordship. They received this in exchange for paying a
tribute, or poll tax (jizya). It was also possible for non-Muslims to travel into Muslim
territories under a safe conduct. These changes were made to allow for trade and
diplomacy to take place.99 Jihad during this period appears not to have been a priority of
the caliphs, but along some frontiers Muslim soldiers did take on jihad as personal
duty.100 For Shi’ites in this period, a minority of the Muslim population, the true imam
was believed to be hidden from the world, and, therefore, as imams were the only true
97
Sachedina, “The Development of Jihad,” 47; Hadia Dajani-Shakeel, “A Reassessment of Some Medieval
and Modern Perceptions of the Counter-Crusade,” in The Jihad and Its Times, ed. Hadia Dajani-Shakeel
and Ronald A. Messier (Ann Arbor: Center for Near Eastern and North African Studies, University of
Michigan, 1991), 44; Dajani-Shakeel, “Diplomatic Relations,” 209; Mottahedeh and al-Sayyid, “The Idea
of the Jihad,” 28.
98
Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 97; Christie and Gerish, “Parallel Preachings,” 142;
Peters, “Jihad,” 90.
99
Christie and Gerish, “Parallel Preachings,” 142; Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 98;
Asbridge, The Crusades, 26; Dajani-Shakeel, “A Reassessment,” 44; Esposito, Unholy War, 34-5.
100
Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 98.
54
authority who could call jihad, the obligation for offensive jihad was lapsed, though
defensive jihad could still be undertaken.101
Though no period ever completely lacked a spirit of jihad, there were times when peace
was more common and there was less concern for continued lesser jihad. By the end of
the tenth century in Syria and Palestine, according to Muslim writers, there was a lack of
jihad spirit. The famous Arab writer al-Muqaddasi wrote of Syria, “The inhabitants have
no enthusiasm for jihad and no energy in the struggle against the enemy.” 102 The eleventh
century saw many political disputes among Muslims, with rulers often paying less
attention to the necessity of jihad against enemies outside the faith, and more attention to
internal Muslim disputes. Both Sunni and Shi’ite political rulers were concerned with
spreading their own versions of Islam, and less concern was focused on other groups. 103
Carole Hillenbrand suggests, along with others, that it was the appearance of the
crusaders that rekindled jihad among political and military leaders. “When the Crusaders
approached the Holy Land in 1099, the disunited and strife-ridden Muslim world had, it
seems, buried the idea of jihad deep into the recesses of its mind. Indeed it was the
Crusaders who possessed the ideological edge over the Muslims.”104
While political rulers appeared less concerned about jihad, religious writers continued to
declare its importance in the early crusading period. One of the earliest Muslim jurists to
101
Sachedina, “The Development of Jihad,” 44-5; Christie and Gerish, “Parallel Preachings,” 142; Irwin,
“Usamah ibn Munqidh,” 78-80; John Esposito, Islam: The Straight Path (New York: Oxford University
Press, 2011), 50.
102
Al-Muqaddasi quoted in Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 103.
103
William J. Hamblin, “To Wage Jihad or Not: Fatimid Egypt During the Early Crusades,” in The Jihad
and Its Times, ed. Hadia Dajani-Shakeel and Ronald A. Messier (Ann Arbor: Center for Near Eastern and
North African Studies, University of Michigan, 1991), 31, 35.
104
Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 103.
55
respond to the threat of the crusaders was `Ali b. Tahir al-Sulami (d. 1106), a Damascene
jurisprudent. In the Kitab al-jihad (Book of the Holy War) in 1105 al-Sulami suggested
that it was Muslim indifference to the arrival of the Franks and a failure of Muslims to
carry out jihad that had resulted in the conquest of Jerusalem by the Christians. He called
for rulers once again to fight jihad and come back to the true path of God. 105 A few
military encounters can be seen to have been undertaken in the name of jihad between
1099 and 1144, but it was not until Zengi (`Imad al-Din Zengi ibn Aqsunqur, r. 1127-46)
captured the city and county of Edessa that jihad spirit became immersed in military
rhetoric again.106
The First Crusaders had arrived to find a Muslim world that had been weakened by
political instability, and Muslim societies who appear to have to have misunderstood the
motives of the earliest crusaders.107 By the Second Crusade the Muslims of Syria and
Palestine had regained strong political leaders who recognized the strong religious
ideology of the crusaders. In response to these changed realities, Muslim leaders began to
shape the doctrine of jihad to the political realities they faced and launch their own
105
Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 107; Christie and Gerish, “Parallel Preachings,” 145;
`Ali ibn Tahir Al-Sulami, “A Translation of Extracts from the Kitab al-Jihad, of `Ali ibn Tahir Al-Sulami
(d. 1106),” trans. Niall Christie, accessed September 17, 2011,
http://falcon.arts.cornell.edu/prh3/447/texts/Sulami.html.
106
Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 108-11; Frenkel, “Muslim Responses to the Frankish
Dominion,” 38-9.
107
Niall Christie, “Religious Campaign or War of Conquest? Muslim Views of the Motives of the First
Crusade,” in Noble Ideals and Bloody Realities: Warfare in the Middle Ages, ed. Niall Christie and Maya
Yazigi (Leiden: Brill, 2006), 57, 62, 68; Irwin, “Islam and the Crusades,” 218. Daftary, “The Isma’ilis,” 26;
Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 33, 47; Phillips, Holy Warriors, 16-17; Helen Nicholson,
“Muslim Reactions to the Crusades,” in Palgrave Advances in the Crusades, ed. Helen J. Nicholson
(Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005), 272; Riley-Smith, The Crusades, Christianity, and Islam, 70;
Daniella Talmon-Heller, “Islamic Preaching in Syria during the Counter-Crusades (Twelfth-Thirteenth
Centuries),” in In Laudem Hierosolymitani: Studies in Crusades and Medieval Culture in Honour of
Benjamin Z. Kedar, ed. Iris Shagir, Ronnie Ellenblum and Jonathan Riley-Smith (Aldershot: Ashgate,
2007), 65.
56
counter-crusade.108 The doctrine of jihad has always changed in response to the historical
and political situation of the day.109 During the second half of the twelfth century political
policies combined true piety with political expediency, and jihad grew in its centrality to
Muslim beliefs.110 Sunni rulers took the rhetoric of jihad and used it to bring together the
Muslim world and directed their militaristic energies towards the emerging threat of the
crusaders. In particular, three major Muslim rulers emerged from 1145 to 1192 who
skillfully used the rhetoric of jihad to further their own political and religious goals:
Zengi; Nur al-Din (al-`Adil Nur al-Din Mahmud ibn Zanki, 1118-15 May 1174); and
Salah al-Din (Salah al-Din Yussuf Ayyub, 1137/8-1193).111
Muslim rulers acted out of a wide variety of motivations, including political, personal and
family, but through the use of jihad rhetoric, they came to be remembered in sources as
upholders of jihad who acted out of pure religious motivations to protect Islam and to
defend its people. Zengi was the first to use such rhetoric to his advantage. While a brutal
and ruthless warrior who enforced a strict moral code and discipline, he was remembered
as a great leader of jihad against the infidel. His official titles reflect this, as he was given
108
Christie and Gerish, “Parallel Preachings,” 139, 141; Christie, “Religious Campaign,” 60, 63-5, 70;
Hamblin, “To Wage Jihad,” 36; Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 103; Talmon-Heller,
“Islamic Preaching,” 65.
109
Esposito, Unholy War, 64; Mottahedeh and al-Sayyid, “The Idea of the Jihad,” 23; Sachedina, “The
Development of Jihad,” 35-6.
110
Dajani-Shakeel, “Some Aspects,” 110; Sachedina, “The Development of Jihad,” 36; Yasser Tabbaa,
“Monuments with a Message: Propagation of Jihad under Nur A-Din,” in The Meeting of Two Worlds, ed.
Vladimir P. Goss (Kalamazoo: Medieval Institute Publications, 1986), 223; Housley, “Saladin’s Triumph,”
18-19; Bar-Tal, Group Beliefs, 57-8.
111
Nicholson, “Muslim Reactions,” 274; Asbridge, The Crusades, 191, 227-8, 249; Hillenbrand,
“Abominable Acts,” 123-4; Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 116-50, 171-213; Partner,
“Holy War,” 339; Tabbaa, “Monuments with a Message,” 223-4; Phillips, The Crusades, 93; France, The
Crusades and the Expansion, 140; France, “Crusading Warfare,” 66; Housley, “Saladin’s Triumph,” 18-19;
Esposito, Unholy War, 64.
57
the title shahid, or martyr, normally reserved for those who died performing jihad.112 Nur
al-Din’s chroniclers likewise refer to him as a great religious leader of jihad, with his
Arabic titles emphasizing his dedication to jihad and to Sunni orthodoxy. 113 Nur al-Din’s
most important titles became al-mujahid (fighter in the Holy War), perhaps gained after
saving Damascus from the crusaders after the Second Crusade, and al-`adil (the just).114
Salah al-Din’s historian Baha’ al-Din Ibn Shaddad (Baha al-Din Abu’l-Mahasin Yusuf
ibn Ragi’ ibn Tamim, 1145-1234) glowingly spoke of Salah al-Din’s commitment to the
five pillars of Islam, and above all of his dedication to jihad, suggesting the sultan had
spent all his money and time, shunning all the normal pleasures of life, in its pursuit. 115
Jihad provided legitimacy to the power held by rulers, though such power had not always
been gained legitimately, and provided a way to encourage the religious group identity of
their Muslim followers through divergent accommodation.116 For Nur al-Din, it was a
way to continue to establish the legitimacy and control of the Zangid Empire of his father
Zengi.117 Many Muslims during this period considered jihad to be warfare that was
carried out for purposes of territorial expansion of the Islamic state, and directed against
112
Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 112-13; Hillenbrand, “Abominable Acts,” 123-4; Ibn
al-Athir, The Chronicle, vol. 1, 383; Ibn al-Qalanisi, Damascus Chronicle, 230; Usama Ibn Munqidh, The
Book of Contemplation, 168-9; Tabbaa, “Monuments with a Message,” 224. Zengi’s other titles included
isfahsilar (commander of the army), alp ghazi (invader hero), shahriyar (protector of the province) and
others that emphasized his legitimacy and sovereignty.
113
Tabbaa, “Monuments with a Message,” 224-6, 231; Yaacov Lev, “The Social and Economic Policies of
Nur al-Din (1146-1174): The Sultan of Syria,” Der Islam 81, no. 2 (2004): 220-1; Partner, “Holy War,”
339; Frenkel, “Muslim Responses to Frankish Dominion,” 40.
114
Tabbaa, “Monuments with a Message,” 226.
115
Baha’ al-Din, The Rare and Excellent History of Saladin, 18-20, 29.
116
Sachedina, “The Development of Jihad,” 36; Giles, Coupland, and Coupland, “Accommodation
Theory,” 28.
117
Partner, “Holy War,” 330, 339; Lev, “The Social and Economic Policies,” 220-1. Ibn al-Athir, The
Chronicle, vol. 2, 89, 215, 224; Ibn al-Qalanisi, Damascus Chronicle, 296, 315, 343, 354.
58
the unjust.118 Sunni jurists considered jihad a political tool that had been granted divine
approval as a means to continue the expansion of the House of Islam (dar al-Islam) and
its interests and to contain the House of War (dar al-Harb).119 It was within this context
that writers described Nur al-Din directing jihad against the Franks. 120 It was Nur alDin’s perceived commitment to jihad and his pursuit of orthodox Muslim causes, such as
his establishment of hospitals and educational institutions, or sending troops to protect
the city of Medina, that solidified his legitimacy as an Islamic ruler.121 Salah al-Din
wrested control of Nur al-Din’s followers after the early death of Nur al-Din’s rightful
heir, his son al-Malik al-Salih Isma`il (d. 1181). Salah al-Din had no legitimate claim to
power, so instead he presented himself as carrying on Nur al-Din’s ideological policies,
claiming to be his rightful successor through adherence to his policies, and to Muslim
orthodoxy.122
The renewed pursuit of jihad developed around the recognition of the sacred character of
Jerusalem to Muslim religious identity and the necessity of its recovery, for by 1145 it
118
Sachedina, “The Development of Jihad,” 44, 46; Hadia Dajani-Shakeel, “Some Aspects of MuslimFrankish Christian Relations in the Sham Region in the Twelfth Century,” in Christian-Muslim Encounters,
ed. Yvonne Yazbeck Haddad and Wadi Zaidan Haddad (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 1995),
201.
119
Sachedina, “The Development of Jihad,” 47; Dajani-Shakeel, “A Reassessment,” 44; Dajani-Shakeel,
“Diplomatic Relations,” 209.
120
Nicholson, “Muslim Reactions,” 274.
121
Lev, “The Social and Economic Policies,” 220-1; Frenkel, “Muslim Responses to Frankish Dominion,”
40.
122
Baha’ al-Din, one of Salah al-Din’s chroniclers spoke of his commitment and dedication to jihad,
“Saladin was very diligent in and zealous for the Jihad. If anyone were to swear that since his embarking on
the Jihad he had not expended a single dinar or dirham on anything but the Jihad or support for it, he would
be telling the truth and true in his oath…In his love for the Jihad on the path of God he shunned his
womenfolk, his children, his homeland, his home and all his pleasures, and for this world he was content to
dwell in the shade of his tent with the winds blowing through it left and right.” Baha’ al-Din, The Rare and
Excellent History of Saladin,” 29; Ibn al-Athir, The Chronicle, vol. 2, 221-4, 277-8; Asbridge, The
Crusades, 296, 317-18; Housley, “Saladin’s Triumph,” 18-19; Frenkel, “Muslim Responses to the Frankish
Dominion,” 41.
59
had become clear that the crusaders were both staying in the Levant and keeping their
hold on the city of Jerusalem. Jihad united warring groups of Muslims together under a
single faith and a united goal, encouraging them to practice convergent accommodation
with each other and diverge from their shared Christian enemies.
Nur al-Din’s state policy declared that Jerusalem’s sacred nature was being corrupted and
tainted by the religious associations it shared with Jews and Christians, and needed to be
reclaimed.123 Salah al-Din similarly encouraged the many varied ethnicities that made up
his army to take up jihad against the Franks, and in particular to reclaim Jerusalem, rather
than to direct their military efforts towards fighting the many different groups of Muslims
contained within his lands.124 Jihad focused Muslims on expelling the Franks from the
Holy Land under the guidance of their Muslim rulers. The doctrine of jihad endowed
rulers with a legitimacy they would have otherwise been lacking, and focused Muslims in
a way that other motivations could not.
For the crusaders, the beliefs around which they shaped their group identity and that
encouraged them to go to the East were in large part shaped by the official message of the
papacy and the ecclesiastics who spread that message. These messages revolved around
the need to protect fellow Christians and the Holy Land, in particular Jerusalem, through
a reinterpretation of warfare into a religious duty and right of Christians – holy war – and
also a form of penance that could assist Christians in their quest for salvation. In response
to the threat posed by the crusaders to surrounding Muslim groups, Muslim military
123
Poet Ibn al-Qaysarani declared, “May it, the city of Jerusalem, be purified by the shedding of blood/The
decision of Nur al-Din is as strong as ever and the iron of his lance is directed at the Aqsa.” Quoted in
Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 150.
124
Dajani-Shakeel, “Al-Quds,” 208-9; Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspective, 188-192; Housley,
“Saladin’s Triumph,” 18-19.
60
leaders launched a counter-crusade, based on the resurgence of the centrality of the
doctrine of jihad to Muslim group identity. During the counter-crusade Muslim political
and military leaders continued to develop and define jihad rhetoric, legitimizing their
political rule through the presentation of their power as their spiritual right and a spiritual
necessity to fight Christians in jihad and bring Jerusalem back under Muslim control.
Both faiths presented their calling in a universalist fashion that should have maintained
tension and aggression between the religions when they met in the East, and often did,
encouraging the followers of each faith to resist accommodation with ‘the other’ and
pursue divergent practices. The crusades were primarily military efforts and violence
against Muslims was the priority of many Latin Christians. However, as will be discussed
in subsequent chapters, the crusades put Latin Christians and Muslims in close proximity
to one another. Through closer contact a greater respect for Muslims was often fostered in
Latin Christians, and led to greater convergent accommodation between the faiths. In
addition, as the crusaders spent increased time in the East, they assumed more group
identities that challenged the primacy of their prescriptive religious ideologies and
challenged the continued engagement in jihad and holy war. However, prescriptive
ideology remained important to both groups, and placed limits on the degree of
accommodation that could take place. Ultimately, excessive accommodation with an
‘other’ carried the risk of delegitimization of one’s identity as a member within the group
and therefore total acceptance into a faith group required conversion.
61
CHAPTER TWO: THE CRUSADERS
Throughout the crusades, including the specific period in question (1145-92), a steady
stream of pilgrims and crusaders arrived from the West to worship at holy sites in and
around Jerusalem, and, in the case of the crusaders, to fight in holy wars against Muslims.
These numbers increased whenever a disaster occurred in the crusader states, and
permanent settlers called to the West for aid. In response to these crises, the papacy
issued calls to crusade that were circulated widely by the clergy. Most of the crusaders
who came in response to these calls remained in the East for only a short period, a few
years at most, and, once they had fulfilled their crusading vows, returned to Europe.
Crusaders arrived in the East holding many stereotypes and preconceptions about
Muslims and about their role in the Holy Land. Upon arrival in the East, through contact
with actual Muslims, many of these preconceptions were challenged. The contact of
short term crusaders with Muslims was limited in comparison to that of the military
orders or settlers, but still they gained some familiarity with Muslims through warfare,
particularly sieges, and also through diplomatic negotiations, the taking of prisoners by
both sides, ransoming, and other encounters. Given their military mandate, crusaders did
often pursue divergent paths, acting in ways that reinforced their group identity, such as
through the pursuit of holy war, but sometimes as a result of other competing needs and
identities, they engaged in convergent accommodation with those they had originally
considered only enemies. Convergent accommodation can be seen in a willingness to
negotiate rather than fight, the acquisition of shared languages and gestures, the
recognition of shared chivalric qualities and values, adjustments in response to pragmatic
62
considerations of the realities of life in the East, and occasionally through conversion and
the acceptance into the group identity of the crusaders. While crusaders did retain their
religious identity, contact with Muslims sometimes led to convergent accommodation and
challenged the centrality and importance of the religious identity of the crusaders.
It was suggested in the previous chapter that crusaders shared a prescriptive ideology and
sense of Christian history as a result of their shared identity as Latin Christians, although
they individually possessed a variety of other group identities and associated beliefs and
values. Historians have identified some elements that appear consistently in all crusading
movements that were rooted in the religious ideology of the crusaders. Each crusade was
identified as a holy war; given legitimacy through papal authorization; and focused, at
least to some degree, on returning to the control of Christendom lands believed to belong
to God or Christian peoples. In exchange for taking crusader vows, crusaders received
spiritual and temporal privileges, including indulgences that they believed would help
them achieve salvation.1 This has led many recent historians to assert that religious faith
provided a strong motivating factor to go on crusade, although it is clear that crusaders
had a variety of other motives.2 Jonathan Riley-Smith argues that the crusaders knew that
the crusades “would disrupt their lives, possibly impoverish and even kill or maim them,
and inconvenience their families, the support of which they would anyway need if they
1
Riley-Smith and Riley-Smith, introduction to The Crusades: Idea and Reality, 1; Riley-Smith, “The
Crusading Movement and Historians,” 8; Constable, “The Historiography of the Crusades,” 12.
2
Constable, “The Historiography of the Crusades,” 5; Riley-Smith, The First Crusaders, 83-4, 93; Holt and
Muldoon, introduction to Competing Voices, xv, xvi. For more extensive discussion of the reasons
suggested by historians for crusading see Riley-Smith, “The Crusading Movement,” 6-8; Asbridge, The
Crusades, 11.
63
were to fulfill their promises.”3 It was, at least in part, the strength of their religious
ideologies, and the belief in the spiritual benefits of such a journey, that convinced them
to undertake such an arduous endeavour and provided a strong group belief for crusaders
who came from many different areas, spoke different languages and belonged to different
ethnicities.4 Certainly, as has been demonstrated, such religious ideologies circulated
widely in Latin Christian Europe.
These shared group religious beliefs that the short-term crusaders arrived with in the
Levant prescribed uncompromising holy war against the Muslims. The papal calls to
crusade that brought two great waves of crusaders during the second half of the twelfth
century emphasized the need for holy war against the enemies of Christians, and
protection of the holy places. In the bull Quantum praedecessores (1 March 1146) Pope
Eugenius III (1145-53) called for the Second Crusade. In response to the capture of
Edessa in 1144, Eugenius spoke of how his listeners’ fathers in the First Crusade had
wrested the holy places of Christ from the hands of the infidels. Now that Edessa had
been captured, it was once again up to faithful believers to fight the enemies of Christ and
free the Holy Land and their brothers and sisters in Christ from continued oppression. 5
The message had changed little by the final months of 1187 when Pope Gregory VIII
(1187) issued the bull Audita tremendi. In response to the Muslim capture of Jerusalem,
Gregory called on believers to go to the East to prevent the continued profanation of holy
3
Riley-Smith, The Crusades, Christianity, and Islam, 36; Riley-Smith, “The Crusading Movement and
Historians,” 10.
4
Asbridge, The Crusades, 11; Bar-Tal, Group Beliefs, 2.
5
Eugenius III, “Quantum praedecessores,” 57-8; Phillips, The Second Crusade, 50, 52; Nicholson, The
Knights Hospitaller, 20; Asbridge, The Crusades, 202-5; Phillips, Holy Warriors, 78.
64
places by the “savage barbarians.”6 In these bulls, Muslims were clearly defined as the
enemy ‘other,’ and such messages allowed little room for the possibility of convergent
accommodation.
Nevertheless, religious beliefs were not the only consideration that informed the actions
of the crusaders once in the East. While the participants of the Second and Third Crusade
found themselves in the Levant generally for less than two years, even their relatively
short exposure to Muslims in the Levant changed the beliefs and attitudes they arrived
with.7 Crusaders individually possessed multiple group identities and beliefs, which
sometimes took precedence over religious ideology, something encouraged by contact
with Muslims. Thus we sometimes find Latin Christians, including crusaders, members
of the military orders, and settlers, allying themselves with Muslims against other
Christians.8 Warfare, while intensifying differences in some ways, also bred respect for
the prowess of the enemy. Christian elites found kinship with Muslim elites in sharing
similar codes of codes of honour, both on and off the battlefield. The realities of warfare
and daily existence in the Levant also shifted and challenged the crusaders’ priorities and
behaviours, encouraging diplomatic negotiation, rather than fighting, which could lead to
convergent accommodation, such as truces, shared gestural language, and respect and
6
Gregory VIII, “Audita tremendi,” 65; Phillips, Holy Warriors, 137-8.
In the Second Crusade the French and Germans arrived in the Levant in the spring of 1148 and Conrad’s
army departed in September 1148 while Louis’ forces returned in the spring of 1149. For the Third
Crusade, Philip arrived in April of 1191 and Richard in June of the same year. Philip decided to leave
shortly after the conclusion of the siege of Acre in early August of 1191, while about half of his army
remained. Richard returned to England October of 1192.
8
Nicholson, The Knights Hospitaller, 20; Daftary, “The Isma’ilis,” 27; France, “Thinking about Crusader
Strategy,” 93; Hillenbrand, “Abominable Acts,” 114; Asbridge, “The Crusader Community,” 317-19.
7
65
even friendship for their opponents.9 Capture or exchanges of hostages could create
situations where Muslims and Latin Christians became more familiar with each other. On
rare occasions, members of each faith converted to the faith of the ‘other,’ though this
was generally more due to circumstance, rather than through true conviction. The
prescriptive beliefs with which the crusaders arrived in the East did not always remain
central to their identity, and with the lessening of these beliefs, and the formation of other
group identities, convergent accommodation became possible.
The most common forms of contact between crusaders and Muslims described in the
sources are military interactions, such as sieges, raids, and, more rarely, battles. As this
suggests, the group identity provided by religious convictions remained strong within the
crusader community, and tended to lead to a strengthening of divergent accommodation,
the unique identity of the crusaders apart from the Muslims, in a continued commitment
to, and pursuit of, holy war.10
The realities of war and life in the Levant, however, as well as competing pressures from
other identities and their attendant beliefs, particularly that of chivalry, sometimes meant
that groups of crusaders chose not to go to war with Muslims, or found ways to mitigate
the effects of war. These practices often gave the armies the ability to avoid bloodshed
and negotiate with Muslims over contested ground. 11 The prescriptive beliefs of both
9
Jubb, “Enemies in the Holy War,” 252-6; Friedman, “Gestures of Conciliation,” 31-2; Giles, Coupland,
and Coupland, “Accommodation Thoery,” 7-8; Gallois and Callan, “Interethnic Accommodation,” 246.
10
John Gillingham, “Richard I and the Science of War in the Middle Ages,” in Medieval Warfare 10001300, ed. John France (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2006), 196, 200; Giles, Coupland, and Coupland,
“Accommodation Theory,” 8, 27-8.
11
Gillingham, “Richard I and the Science of War,” 197; R. C. Smail, Crusading Warfare, 1097-1193
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1972), 18.
66
Christianity and Islam did not ultimately allow for a permanent cessation of hostilities,
but some temporary or limited concessions from both side allowed the armies to avoid
risking large losses of life and to survive to be able to fight later on.12
War between crusaders and Muslims presented itself in different forms, some of which
provided little contact beyond the strictly violent, whereas others allowed for a certain
amount of non-violent contact, and challenged the primacy of the group commitment to
holy war. Three major forms of combat were present in the crusades: direct pitched
battles, raids and sieges. Pitched battles and raids were inherently violent, and lacked
broader contact with Muslims. Pitched battles were relatively uncommon, as they were
risky and could lead to great loss for an army, as can be seen in the slaughter of the
Christian army at Hattin in 1187. Because of this risk, pitched battles were avoided if
other options were available.13 Raids were far more common. These were quick forays
into enemy territory, with limited objectives. These objectives could include seizing
caravans, capturing castles, or stealing supplies from an enemy camp. These could be part
of a larger venture, or could be retaliation for a previous action by the enemy. 14 Out of
these raids the aggressors would hopefully gain captives or booty. These forms of
military engagement did not generally last any great length of time or include extensive
12
Christie and Gerish, “Parallel Preachings,” 141, 143-5; Sachedina, “The Development of Jihad,” 43;
Nicholson, “Muslim Reactions,” 278; Nicholson, The Knights Templar, 80.
13
Gillingham, “Richard I and the Science of War,” 197; Smail, Crusading Warfare, 12, 15. For an
overview of the events of Hattin see Housley, “Saladin’s Triumph.” For full contemporary accounts of the
battle see Baha’ al-Din, The Rare and Excellent History of Saladin, 72-5; Ibn al-Athir, The Chronicle, vol.
2, 315-17, 322-4; Nicholson, The Chronicle of the Third Crusade, 32-3; Edbury, The Conquest of
Jerusalem, 29-38, 45-49, 158-166.
14
Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 544. Nicholson, The Chronicle of the Third Crusade,
29-30, 233-4; Ibn al-Athir, The Chronicle, vol. 2, 87, 165, 183, 185, 262; Baha’ al-Din, The Rare and
Excellent History of Saladin, 59, 71, 132; William of Tyre, A History of Deeds Done, vol. 2, 440; Ibn alQalanisi, Damascus Chronicle, 330.
67
contact between enemies, except through the taking of prisoners, which will be discussed
below, although they could lead to greater respect for the military prowess of the enemy.
Sieges, on the other hand, a very common form of military engagement, led to far greater
contact between enemies, for they could become prolonged encounters, often with
extensive negotiations conducted by diplomats or envoys between the defenders and
besiegers throughout. Such negotiations could result in the reduction or even rejection of
holy war to further other objectives such as the protection of the combatants or a leader’s
return to Europe. Sieges could last for as little as a few days or, as in the case of the siege
of Acre during the Third Crusade, almost two years. 15 During these encounters
sometimes the crusaders’ responses to Muslim enemies were dictated more by on-theground military concerns, than prescriptive religious beliefs. If the army was unable to
outlast a siege because of a lack of manpower or resources, which would lead to eventual
starvation, and if no external aid was coming, instead of fighting to the death in a holy
war as the papacy called on them to do, they would attempt to negotiate a surrender with
the enemy. While they were committed to the defence of the Holy Land, if the crusaders
were the besieged, they often chose to protect the bulk of the army and save the lives of
the non-military inhabitants of cities, rather than to die in the name of Christ. If they were
the besiegers they also appear to have been willing to negotiate the lives and sometimes
15
For examples see Ibn al-Athir, The Chronicle, vol. 2, 339, 346, 348, 354-5; Baha’ al-Din, The Rare and
Excellent History of Saladin, 91, 161-2; Nicholson, The Chronicle of the Third Crusade, 45, 67, 218-22;
Edbury, The Conquest of Jerusalem, 50; William of Tyre, A History of Deeds Done, vol. 2, 184-92; 217-23.
The siege of Acre lasted from 28 August 1189 to 12 July 1191.
68
the possessions of the Muslim inhabitants of cities to gain control of more land and
strongholds.16 Holy war was not fought to the exclusion of all other considerations.
The response of the crusaders to Muslims, fighting in holy war, was, by definition,
divergent accommodation, and in many cases the response of the crusaders to Muslims
was solely divergent. However, even in warfare crusaders did sometimes engage in
convergent accommodation. One way sieges and other forms of conflict did lead to a
convergent change in attitude between Latin Christians and Muslims was through the
observation of elite warriors as they fought in close proximity. Through this contact on
the battlefield there developed an admiration for the skills of elite enemies. This contact
challenged some of the stereotypes the crusaders arrived with in the East and led to
individually convergent attitudes.17 In these cases, the faith of the enemy came second to
their skill in battle. The author of the Itinerarium Peregrinorum had great admiration for
some of the warriors of the Turkish force holding Acre during the Third Crusade. In part,
facing a skilled enemy, a worthy adversary, helped explain the suffering the crusaders
faced. The author of the Itinerarium Peregrinorum speaks of a Turkish knight killed in
battle, “He was a very daring and extremely doughty man of renowned name. He was
said to have been of such great strength that no one would ever be strong enough to throw
16
For examples of many outcomes of sieges see Edbury, The Conquest of Jerusalem, 55; Ibn al-Athir, The
Chronicle, vol. 2, 332; Baha’ al-Din, The Rare and Excellent History of Saladin, 85, 160-1, 220. Significant
among Christian sites that were surrendered to Muslims for the protection of inhabitants was the city of
Jerusalem. See Edbury, The Conquest of Jerusalem, 58; Adrian Boas, Jerusalem in the Time of the
Crusades (London: Routlege, 2001), 16; Benjamin Z. Kedar, “The Patriarch Eraclius,” in Outremer:
Studies in the History of the Crusading Kingdom of Jerusalem, ed. B. Z. Kedar, H. E. Mayer and R. C.
Smail (Jerusalem: Izhak Ben-Zvi Institute, 1982), 200; Ibn al-Athir, The Chronicle, vol. 2, 332.
17
Jubb, “Enemies in the Holy War,” 251-4; Jubb, “The Crusaders’ Perceptions,” 234, 237; David Jacoby,
“Knightly Values and Class Consciousness in the Crusader States of the Eastern Mediterranean,”
Mediterranean Historical Review 1, no. 2 (1986): 160; Gallois and Callan, “Interethnic Accommodation,”
250.
69
him off his horse, in fact they would not even dare to attack him.”18 Ambroise likewise
records respect for an emir who led his men against the Christians during the siege of
Acre, “Among them came an emir, a great man of high degree, by the name of
Bellegemin; he was valiant, bold and of great renown.”19 While these writers
acknowledged the enemy status of their opponents, their skills and prowess rendered
them worthy of respect, and challenged the primacy of the writers’ Christian group
identity and their distaste for those who did not possess the same faith.
An important underlying reason behind the respect for the military skills of elite enemies
was their participation in and acceptance of similar codes of honour and military prowess,
known to European Christians as chivalry. While the crusaders’ religious beliefs dictated
a view of Muslims as enemies, chivalric group values fostered an admiration of other
elite warriors for their skills and virtues of character, regardless of their faith.20 In the
twelfth century knighthood was associated with elite social status and a code of behaviour
and manners that was shared by knights and nobles. This created a group identity separate
from other warriors.21 This system of chivalry developed into a group identity based on a
chivalric lifestyle, incorporating not only skill on the battlefield, but a whole moral and
behavioural code to underpin it. As Margaret Jubb explains, chivalric group identity
18
Translated in Nicholson, The Chronicle of the Third Crusade, 243. “…maximæ virum audaciæ, et
probitatis eximiæ, et nominis famosi, qui tantarum prædicabatur virium fuisse, quod eum nunquam
quisquam ab equo prævaleret dejicere, vel auderet ipsum saltem invadere.” Stubbs, Itinerarium
Peregrinorum, 256.
19
Translated in Ambroise, Estoire de la Guerre Sainte, vol. 2, 83.
20
Jubb, “Enemies in the Holy War,” 252-8; Bar-Tal, Group Beliefs, 3, 9.
21
Flori, “Knightly Society,” 149-50; Sarah Lambert, “Crusading or Spinning,” in Gendering the Crusades,
ed. Susan B. Edgington and Sarah Lambert (New York: Columbia University Press, 2002), 1; Jubb,
“Enemies in the Holy War,” 252; Jacoby, “Knightly Values,” 159.
70
“went beyond military prowess and valour to include loyalty, courtesy, and generosity.” 22
The elite crusaders came to value and respect the ‘civilised’ aristocratic nature of a
knight, regardless of his faith, and this included a worthy opponent.23 For elite crusaders,
this identity of chivalry meant knights could, and did, develop a respect for their Muslim
opponents, despite their religion.
The group beliefs of chivalric knighthood were greatly influenced and supported by
literature, in particular chansons de geste and romances. These forms of literature were
written for the laity, and in the case of literature about the crusades, could serve as
propaganda to encourage warriors to take up the cross and go on crusade.24 These works
presented an ideal of knighthood, praising knights for their chivalric qualities, such as
bravery, courage, largesse, etc.25 These works encouraged respect and admiration for
knights, including Muslims, who upheld the chivalric ideal, regardless of their faith.
While Muslims in general were presented as possessing a hideous appearance, providing
a visual signifier of their exclusion from the Christian fold, knights who were presented
as members of the chivalric group were described as possessing an attractive appearance,
similar to Christian knights.26 For example, Ambroise’s Estoire presents al-`Adil (al`Adil Sayf al-Din Abu Bakr ibn Ayyub, 1145-1218), Salah al-Din’s brother (Saphadin in
22
Jubb, “Enemies in the Holy War,” 252; Flori, “Knightly Society,” 182.
Daniel, Heroes and Saracens, 27; Flori, “Knightly Society,” 149-50, 163; Keen, “War, Peace, and
Chivalry,” 95.
24
For example Edgington and Sweetenham, The Chanson d’Antioche. Keen, “War, Peace and Chivalry,”
99-100. The use of vernaculars allowed for the mobilization of a larger percentage of the population for the
extension of Christendom.
25
Daniel, Heroes and Saracens, 30-1; Sayers, The Song of Roland, 67, 114, 187; Edgington and
Sweetenham, The Chanson d’Antioche, 277, 299; Ambroise, Estoire de la Guerre Sainte, vol. 2, 70.
26
According to Margaret Jubb, “The chansons de geste were performative acts of establishing a sense of
community, with the Arabs, Turks, and Saracens functioning as the necessary Other.” Jubb, “Enemies in
the Holy War,” 251-2. Buchanan, “A Nascent National Identity,” 920. For examples of the hideous
appearance of Muslims see Edgington and Sweetenham, The Chanson d’Antioche, 15, 25, 35, 149, 120;
Ambroise, Estoire de la Guerre Sainte, vol. 2, 79.
23
71
western literature), as bold, noble, generous, courteous and like a brother to Richard.27
The Song of Roland, the written version of which is dated sometime around or shortly
after the First Crusade, speaks of an emir as possessing a noble form with eyes that are
“bold and clear. When on his horse he’s mounted in career/He bears him bravely armed
in his battle gear,/And for his courage he’s famous far and near.”28 In chivalric literature,
Muslim elites were presented as belonging to the same group as Christian knights, though
they fought on opposing sides. When a western knight and a Muslim met in single
combat, it was not their religious persuasion, but rather their noble lineage and chivalric
values that made them worthy competitors.29
As elite Muslims came into contact with elite Christian warriors, they too developed a
respect for worthy opponents that challenged their religious beliefs, as they possessed
moral and behavioural codes in some respects similar to that of Christian chivalry, and
this led to convergent accommodation. While Muslims often considered Christians
inferior to them in general, they found some exceptions in Frankish knights. 30 The
warrior Usamah ibn Munqidh (4 July 1095-15 November 1188) had little respect for the
Frankish people in general, but he held Christian knights in great esteem. He writes, “The
Franks (may God confound them) have none of the human virtues except courage. They
27
Ambroise, The Crusade of Richard Lion-Heart, 429. “C’ert li preuz Saffadin d’Arcade,/Cil qui fesoit le
granz pröesces/E les bontez e les largesces.” Ambroise, Estoire de la Guerre Sainte, vol. 1, 186. “It was the
noble Saphadin of Arcadia, a man of valiant deeds, kindness and generosity.” Ambroise, Estoire de la
Guerre Sainte, vol. 2, 184.
28
Translated in Sayers, The Song of Roland, 87; Keen, Chivalry, 25; Tyerman, God’s War, 50; Michael
Routledge, “Songs,” in The Oxford Illustrated History of the Crusades, ed. Jonathan Riley-Smith (New
York: Oxford University Press, 1995), 91. Keen suggests a manuscript date between 1100-1130. Tyerman
dates the earliest known manuscript to survive as c. 1100. Michael Routledge suggests its origins as around
the First Crusade.
29
Daniel, Heroes and Saracens, 35, 37.
30
Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 260, 272-3.
72
have neither precedence nor high rank except that of the knights, and they have no men
worthy of the name except knights – it is they who are the masters of legal reasoning,
judgment and sentencing.”31 There are some limits to how far this respect stretches for
Usamah, for he refuses to send his son with a Christian friend, a knight of King Fulk,
who wants to teach the boy chivalry in Europe.32 In Muslim sources, the most glowing
praise of an enemy warrior was given to King Richard. Salah al-Din’s chronicler, Baha’
al-Din wrote of Richard being a powerful warrior, who fought his battles with great
bravery and fearlessness, and possessed extensive experience.33 Ibn al-Athir similarly
praised the English king. He saw the Muslims facing a disaster in Richard for he was an
unusually skilled knight full of courage and bravery, as well as being able to endure
throughout a battle.34 While the overall opinion of Muslims about crusaders remained that
they were inferior to Muslims and were enemies who needed to be fought, individual
knights who possessed the skill and the character traits of knights were to be respected.
While chivalry provided a competing identity that encouraged convergent
accommodation, there were limits to such accommodation. While Christian knights could
hold great respect for the military skill and personal qualities of Muslim elites, those
qualities did not overcome a supposed inferiority based on a lack of shared religious
beliefs.35 The group identity provided by religion was ultimately prioritized over chivalry
in most cases, and ultimately limited the accommodation that was possible between the
31
Translated in Usama Ibn Munqidh, The Book of Contemplation, 76.
Usama Ibn Munqidh, The Book of Contemplation, 144.
33
Baha’ al-Din, The Rare and Excellent History of Saladin, 146.
34
Ibn al-Athir, The Chronicle, vol. 2, 387.
35
Jubb, “Enemies in the Holy War,” 253, 258; Jubb, “The Crusaders’ Perceptions,” 235; Hamilton,
“Knowing the Enemy,” 381.
32
73
groups.36 Contemporary writers, of both chronicles and chivalric literature, suggested that
while Muslim knights possessed many noble qualities, they could never truly belong to
the Christian knighthood until they shared the same faith. In a typical passage in the
Itinerarium Peregrinorum, in discussing the Turkish troops who were guarding the city
of Acre during the siege, the author laments, “They certainly ought to be admired for
their valour in war and their integrity. If only they held the right faith, there would be
none better – according to human reasoning that is.”37 The Chanson d’Antioche similarly
both lauded the Turkish commander’s son Sansadoine and regretted his lack of Christian
faith, saying, “Sansadoine swung proudly into the saddle. He was an exceptional
specimen: had he been a Christian he could have inflicted serious damage on ten Turks
by his charge on the battlefield.”38 While their chivalric qualities made them respected,
they could never be embraced into the Christian knighthood.
While Salah al-Din and Richard never met in person, Salah al-Din’s brother al-`Adil and
Richard forged a close bond, though one that retained limits.39 Al-`Adil often served as
an envoy between the two leaders, and through that contact experienced a convergence of
shared military and moral attitudes and behaviour towards Richard, forging a close bond
36
Jubb, “Enemies in the Holy War,” 258; Bar-Tal, Group Beliefs, 42-4, 77, 108-9.
Translated in Nicholson, The Chronicle of the Third Crusade, 216. “Miranda quidem erat et virtutum
meritis bellicarum, et totius genere probitatis, quæ si recta fide fuisset insignita, melior ea, secundum
hominem dico, non esset.” Stubbs, Itinerarium Peregrinorum, 228. See also Nicholson, The Chronicle of
the Third Crusade, 220.
38
Translated in Edgington and Sweetenham, The Chanson d’Antioche, 214.
39
Asbridge, “Talking to the Enemy,” 279; Baha’ al-Din, The Rare and Excellent History of Saladin, 193.
Though Richard requested meetings, Saladin refused, for he felt it would be disgraceful to continue to be at
war with someone with whom he had shared a meal. He promised Richard a meeting once they had come to
a settlement, but this never came to pass.
37
74
with him, and eventually even calling him ‘brother.’40 Richard of Devizes (fl. 1191)
speaks of al-`Adil as, “A man of long military experience, very polished and wise, whom
the king’s magnanimity and munificence had won over to his friendship and to favouring
his side.”41 This mutual esteem could be seen not just in diplomatic encounters, but also
on the battlefield. The Itinerarium Peregrinorum recounts that during fierce fighting at
the battle of Jaffa Richard’s horse fell. When al-`Adil became aware of this, he sent a
retainer with two horses to Richard in the midst of battle, “in recognition of his noted
prowess.”42 In the relationship between these warriors, the tension between the group
identities provided by religious beliefs and chivalry can be seen. These warriors held one
another in high esteem, and, despite religious differences, Richard and al-`Adil formed a
close bond based on mutual admiration of one another’s military and moral attributes.
However, their religious group identities generally remained more central to their overall
decisions and place within the Levant and prescribed that they ultimately remain enemies,
despite their bond.43
Some of the greatest degree of contact, as well as convergent accommodation, between
crusaders and Muslims occurred through diplomatic exchanges, participated in by
crusade leaders or through the diplomats and envoys that travelled between them to
negotiate treaties and truces. The crusaders were separated from the Muslims they fought
40
Jubb, “Enemies in the Holy War,” 254; Baha’ al-Din, The Rare and Excellent History of Saladin, 185;
Giles, Coupland, and Coupland, “Accommodation Theory,” 18.
41
Translated in Richard of Devizes, The Chronicle, 75. “Uir militia ueteris, multum viuilis et sapiens, quem
regis magnanimitas et munificentia in sui amorem et sui fauorem partis illexerant.” Richard of Devizes,
The Chronicle, 74.
42
Translated in Nicholson, The Chronicle of the Third Crusade, 364. “Propter ipsius notam probitatem
destinavit.” Stubbs, Itinerarium Peregrinorum, 419.
43
Jubb, “Enemies in the Holy War,” 258; Jubb, “The Crusaders’ Perceptions,” 235; Bar-Tal, Group Beliefs,
16.
75
by language, religion, and social, political and intellectual culture. Behavioural and
linguistic accommodation was used to overcome these many differences, with the
development of a shared system of gestures and practices to communicate effectively. 44
For short-term crusaders, overcoming this communication barrier meant employing
indigenous inhabitants or longer term residents who were bilingual to communicate with
Muslims, as well as developing certain shared gestures, such as the giving of gifts during
negotiations, to create productive diplomatic conduct.45
A basic barrier to any productive communication and accommodation that needed to be
overcome was the issue of language. As many of the crusader nobility in the kingdom of
Jerusalem were French, French was the dominant language among the elites, with Latin
being used for legal and ecclesiastical matters. In the county of Tripoli, Provençal was
used, while in the principality of Antioch, a Norman dialect was favoured. Other
vernaculars were also used by common soldiers.46 Arabic was the common language used
by Muslims, including non-Arabic Muslims such as Kurds, Seljuks or Turks, who spoke
Arabic in addition to their own languages.47 To address the communication and
accommodation barrier the lack of a shared language posed to crusaders and Muslims, the
short term crusaders looked to those who would have a greater knowledge and
understanding of their enemies. This might include Frankish settlers who had learned
44
Friedman, “Gestures of Conciliation,” 31-2; Giles, Coupland, and Coupland, “Accommodation Theory,”
2, 18.
45
Yvonne Friedman, “Gestures of Conciliation: Peacemaking Endeavors in the Latin East,” in In Laudem
Hierosolymitani: Studies in Crusades and Medieval Culture in Honour of Benjamin Z. Kedar, ed. Iris
Shagrir, Ronnie Ellenblum and Jonathan Riley-Smith (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007), 31, 34; Housley,
Fighting for the Cross, 216.
46
France, “The Second Crusade,” 67; Murray, “National Identity,” 119.
47
Hussein M. Attiya, “Knowledge of Arabic in the Crusader States in the Twelfth and Thirteenth
Centuries,” Journal of Medieval Studies 25, no. 3 (1999): 209.
76
native languages and customs or native Christians, Armenian and Muslim converts. In
addition, as will be seen later, captives and hostages might also serve as translators. These
groups were able not only to speak a number of languages, but also to comprehend the
subtleties of the religious beliefs and cultural practices of both parties.48 At this time it
was acceptable for diplomatic engagements to be carried out through the use of a trusted
interpreter (dragoman), or an elite who was capable of interpretation.49 During the Third
Crusade, as the crusader army was marching towards Ascalon, al-`Adil, the sultan’s
brother, was sent to King Richard to negotiate for potential peace. The Frankish
nobleman Humfrey of Toron served as a trusted interpreter between the two. 50 At the end
of the Third Crusade King Richard wanted to return home to Europe, as the political
situation there had become volatile. Richard faced competing demands from his identity
as a political ruler in Europe and as a leader of the crusades in the Holy Land. His
obligation to his European polity proved greater than his need to continue crusading, and
he chose to return to Europe. To do so he needed to ensure that the crusader states would
be protected when he left. He turned to Salah al-Din to negotiate a peace agreement so he
could go home. Humfrey served as the interpreter in these negotiations as well.51 Such
interpreters became crucial to a shared diplomatic communication between crusade
leaders and Muslims, valued for their ability to speak Arabic fluently and their abilities to
48
Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 333; Dajani-Shakeel, “Diplomatic Relations,” 210;
Attiya, “Knowledge of Arabic,” 206-7.
49
Murray, “National Identity,” 113. For examples see Baha’ al-Din, The Rare and Excellent History of
Saladin, 36-7, 173; Nicholson, The Chronicle of the Third Crusade, 219; Odo of Deuil, De Profectione, 5859; Richard of Devizes, The Chronicle, 44.
50
Baha’ al-Din, The Rare and Excellent History of Saladin, 173.
51
Baha’ al-Din, The Rare and Excellent History of Saladin, 193-5. For other examples on the use of
interpreters between crusaders and Muslims see Nicholson, The Chronicle of the Third Crusade, 219;
Baha’ al-Din, The Rare and Excellent History of Saladin, 37, 145, 148.
77
work within the political, religious and social culture of those with whom they were
negotiating.52
The giving of gifts was another accommodative gesture that had to be adapted during the
crusades.53 While both Christians and Muslims attached great significance to the giving
of gifts, the implied meaning differed greatly, and both sides had to accommodate and
come to an agreed understanding as to what it would mean in the context of the crusades,
creating new norms. For Muslim rulers, to send a gift to an enemy was a way to request
the opening of diplomatic negotiations. For European rulers, the giving of a gift was used
to signify the conclusion of a treaty with a vassal. 54 One similar factor for both was that
gifts were given in relation to hierarchy with the superior, more powerful party sending
gifts to the lesser.55 The giving of gifts for elites of both sides highlighted their
generosity, a key chivalric quality.
King Richard was the ruler during the Third Crusade who proved most adept at
convergent accommodation and negotiating gift giving with enemy rulers, a trait that
would bring him criticism from his army, who did not all understand the cultural
meanings underlying such exchanges as Richard did. The Christian army believed
52
Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 333; Dajani-Shakeel, “Diplomatic Relations,” 210. For
examples see Nicholson, The Chronicle of the Third Crusade, 219, 378; Baha’ al-Din, The Rare and
Excellent History of Saladin, 96, 173, 193; Richard of Devizes, The Chronicle, 44.
53
Friedman, “Gestures of Conciliation,” 35-6, 39-46; Giles, Coupland, and Coupland, “Accommodation
Theory,” 7, 12. More examples of accommodative gestures used in diplomacy will be discussed in Chapter
Four.
54
Friedman, “Gestures of Conciliation,” 35. For examples of European gift giving see T. J. Oleson, “Polar
Bears in the Middle Ages,” Canadian Historical Review 31, no. 1 (Mar. 1950), 47-55.
55
Friedman, “Gestures of Conciliation,” 42, 44; Yvonne Friedman, “Peacemaking: Perceptions and
Practices in the Medieval Latin East,” in The Crusades and the Near East, ed. Conor Costick (New York:
Routledge, 2011), 236.
78
Richard was being tricked by Salah al-Din and his brother al-`Adil when they sent gifts to
him to initiate negotiations that would allow Richard to return to England at the end of
the Third Crusade.56 However, Yvonne Friedman rightly argues that in fact Richard was
showing a sense of acculturation in accommodating to the Muslim convention of gift
giving to open negotiations, and was aware of the offence his rejection of gifts would
cause. He knew that accepting gifts was the way into further negotiations.57 Generosity
was a prized value within the chivalric system and this would have added to Richard’s
appreciation of such a gesture. By the Third Crusade, western leaders were coming to
realize the importance of accommodating to the system of gestures and customs that had
been adapted over the previous century by the crusaders and Franks in the East and their
Muslim neighbours.
While sieges offered a chance for greater contact between Latin Christians and Muslims,
they did not always generate greater trust or understanding between parties, and chivalric
principles were certainly not always followed. After an almost two year siege against the
Muslim inhabitants of the city of Acre (28 August 1189 to 12 July 1191), terms were
eventually reached by which the Franks would receive the city’s equipment, ships,
200,000 dinars as well as 1,500 common prisoners, 100 specified prisoners of higher
ranks and the return of the Holy Cross. In exchange it was agreed the Muslim inhabitants
56
“For Saphadin [as Salah al-Din’s brother al-`Adil was known to Western writers] so deceived the king
that he accepted his gifts. Messengers came and went, bringing these gifts to the king, for which he was
much blamed and much criticised. However, Saphadin gave him to understand that he truly wanted peace.”
Ambroise, Estoire de la Guerre Sainte, vol. 2, 132. “Mais Saffadins lui fist entendre,/Qu[ë] il voleit a la
pais tender/E lis reis tost la pais preïst/Qui honoree lui feïst/Por eschaucier nostre creance,/E por ço que li
reis de France/S’[en] iert alé don’t il to dote, Qu’il saveit qu’il ne l’ameit gute.” Ambroise, Estoire de la
Guerre Sainte, vol. 1, 120.
57
Friedman, “Gestures of Conciliation,” 45; Friedman, “Peacemaking,” 245; Asbridge, “Talking to the
Enemy,” 284; Nicholson, Chronicle of the Third Crusade, 229, 273,364-5.
79
would be allowed to leave in safety, taking with them their wives, children, and wealth. 58
When Salah al-Din delayed in fulfilling his end of the terms, Richard, who was leading
the siege, executed 2,700 Muslim captives he was holding hostage until the terms of the
surrender were completed.59 Though Richard often was more willing to engage in
negotiations with Muslims than some of his other crusader comrades, he was only willing
to extend his trust so far. He never forgot that Salah al-Din, despite his chivalric virtues,
remained an enemy to be feared.60
One of the ways the crusaders dealt with sieges, and other military engagements, with the
enemy was through truces. Truces could be entered into for a number of reasons,
including facilitating surrenders, to unite groups of different faiths against a common
threat, or because it was the best option open.61 While the crusaders were willing to
negotiate in the case of sieges, in general they were far more reluctant to negotiate larger
periods of peace than were settlers in the crusaders states. As will be discussed in Chapter
Four, the settlers appear to have been more willing to enter into treaties with enemies, or
even on occasion, ally with Muslim groups if the political necessity arose. 62 The
crusaders of the Second Crusade believed they had been betrayed by the Franks when the
Franks entered into a treaty with the Atabeg of Damascus, Unur, to assist in driving Zengi
58
Baha’ al-Din, The Rare and Excellent History of Saladin, 160-61; Nicholson, The Chronicle of the Third
Crusade, 219; Ibn al-Athir, The Chronicle, vol. 2, 388-90; Edbury, The Conquest of Jerusalem, 104-6, 1678; Asbridge, The Crusades, 443-5.
59
Nicholson, The Chronicle of the Third Crusade, 231; Baha’ al-Din, The Rare and Excellent History of
Saladin, 165; Edbury, The Conquest of Jerusalem, 108; Asbridge, The Crusades, 450-55; Tyerman, God’s
War, 455-6.
60
Asbridge, The Crusades, 450-55; Phillips, Holy Warriors, 153. Richard was criticized for this slaughter
by Christian chroniclers, as he had failed to live up to the treaty agreement.
61
Omran, “Truces between Moslems and Crusaders,” 426-34.
62
Riley-Smith, “Peace Never Established,” 99.
80
back from his attack on the city. 63 When the siege failed the crusaders blamed the Franks
whom they believed had acted treacherously by fraternising with the enemy. 64 In such
cases, short term crusaders showed much more commitment to the prescriptive ideology
associated with the crusades, than did the settlers whose identities were as permanent
residents, and who possessed a greater familiarity with the enemy, making them more
willing to reach accommodations.
While it was mostly the crusader states that negotiated longer peaces, some examples of
short term crusaders negotiating peace can be found. One of the most significant, and for
them successful, truces the crusaders took part in during the Third Crusade was the
above-mentioned siege of Acre. The crusaders also sought a truce with Salah al-Din
when he attacked the city of Jaffa, then held by the crusaders. When the sultan put the
city under siege, the patriarch in the city sought a safe conduct to negotiate a surrender.
The sultan and the crusaders arranged that they would be given a day’s reprieve to await
any coming aid and, if that failed, they would pay a ransom (the same that had been
offered at Jerusalem in 1187) to free themselves. 65 The crusaders sought to protect their
army so they could make an assault on Jerusalem, the ultimate goal of the crusade. While
both sides used their faith to frame their arguments, what they were willing to agree to
was often necessitated by military, as well as sometimes religious, concerns.
63
Phillips, Holy Warriors, 96-7; Asbridge, The Crusades, 192-3; William of Tyre, A History of Deeds
Done, vol. 2, 190-191.
64
Roger of Wendover, Flowers of History, vol. 1, 502.
65
Nicholson, The Chronicle of the Third Crusade, 349-51; Edbury, The Conquest of Jerusalem, 116-17;
Baha’ al-Din, The Rare and Excellent History of Saladin, 219-23; Ibn al-Athir, The Chronicle, vol. 2, 4001.
81
For Muslims, while jihad had become an important, and often driving, force in military
practices by the second half of the twelfth century, Islam allowed for a temporary
cessation of hostilities through a treaty with enemies, called a hudna. Hudnas served as
legal temporary truces which many jurists contended could be held for a maximum of ten
years, the amount of time Muhammad held a truce with the Meccans.66 In all known
cases of truces between Muslims and crusaders or Franks, according to Riley-Smith,
truces lasted for less than ten years, with only a single known exception, that of King
Amalric’s 1167 treaty with the Fatimids of Egypt that was to last indefinitely. 67 These
agreements were entered into for a number of purposes, including having the truceholders fight one another’s enemies, allowing for captives to be returned in safety, as well
as letting merchants travel through territories in safety.68 These arrangements lessened the
centrality of the importance of jihad, while still maintaining the overall religious group
identity of Islam.
Surrenders were often used to conclude a siege and protect the lives of the inhabitants.
Such surrenders offered crusaders and Muslims opportunities to avoid unnecessary
bloodshed that would damage the abilities of their armies to continue to defend their
territories. Such contact did not generally lead to a deeper understanding of the ‘other,’
but it at least acknowledged that while the crusaders were declared to be in the Levant to
participate in holy war, and while Muslims were reviving calls to jihad within military
circles, it was not always prudent to fight or prolong sieges and risk losing large numbers
66
Dajani-Shakeel, “Diplomatic Relations,” 211-12; Dajani-Shakeel, “Some Aspects,” 201-2; Rudolph
Peters, “Jihad,” in The Oxford Encyclopedia of the Modern Islamic World, ed. John L. Esposito (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 2001), 371.
67
Riley-Smith, “Peace Never Established,” 100.
68
Dajani-Shakeel, “Some Aspects,” 202.
82
of lives in the process. Both sides often found it preferable to save the lives of the faithful
than to die for principles of the faith.69
Through successful sieges, and raids of settlements or caravans, or through the intentional
exchange of hostages, both civilians and soldiers could be taken captive, and this opened
a whole new realm of contact, one that sometimes saw captives engaging in asymmetrical
convergence to their captors by accommodating to the behaviours and beliefs of those
who held them hostage.70 Once these varied people ended up in captivity, their survival
was usually subject to mercenary considerations, with prisoners being kept alive only if
there was a good economic or political reason for doing so. 71 Prisoners who were not
automatically killed were sold into slavery, used as labour, put in prison, or held to be
ransomed.72 The most significant factors that decided the fate of a captive were linked:
the social rank of the captives and whether they could be held for a significant ransom.
Yaacov Lev suggests that one of three things was likely to happen to high ranking
military captives: they might be seen as an economic boon and held for as large a ransom
as captors believed could be provided, exchanged for prisoners of the side holding them
captive, or treated savagely to make an example of them if they could not raise a ransom.
69
Nicholson, The Knights Templar, 62; Friedman, “Gestures of Conciliation,” 32; Francesco Gabrieli,
introduction to Arab Historians of the Crusades (New York: Dorset Press, 1969), xvi.
70
Yvonne Friedman, “Women in Captivity and their Ransom during the Crusader Period,” in Cross
Cultural Convergences in the Crusader Period, ed. Michael Goodich, Sophia Menache and Sylvia Schein
(New York: P. Lang, 1995), 77; Yaacov Lev, “Prisoners of War During the Fatimid-Ayyubid Wars with the
Crusaders,” in Tolerance and Intolerance: Social Conflict in the Age of the Crusades, ed. Michael Gervers
and James M. Powell (Syracuse, New York: Syracuse University Press, 2001), 12, 16-19; Jean Dunbabin,
Captivity and Imprisonment in Medieval Europe 1000-1300 (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002), 64;
Giles, Coupland, and Coupland, “Accommodation Theory,” 12.
71
Friedman, “Women in Captivity,” 80; Lev, “Prisoners of War,” 14, 16.
72
Dajani-Shakeel, “Diplomatic Relations,” 213; Dunbabin, Captivity and Imprisonment, 67; DajaniShakeel, “Some Aspects,” 205.
83
Rich merchants also were also held for a significant ransom.73 It was the poor soldiers,
who would raise very little money if held for ransom, who commonly faced enslavement
or death upon being taken captive.74 Because of this, only a minimal level of trust and
cooperation was accorded in negotiations between captors and those who wished to
ransom prisoners. Even at the most elite levels, therefore, where respect for a fellow
knight and nobleman was the most powerful challenge to the religious group identity, a
lack of trust persisted between captor and captive.75
Some captives were not taken by force, but were put in the hands of enemies as hostages.
By holding hostages, captors could help guarantee that the terms of a surrender, a treaty,
or a truce were carried out. Hostages could also be held for ransoms. 76 Hostages were
often nobles, and while in captivity it was expected that they would be cared for and
returned to their own people unharmed once the terms of the treaty had been fulfilled. For
some this was the case, but the treatment of prisoners in captivity varied greatly and did
not always conform to the chivalric virtues extended to other warriors, sometimes leading
73
Lev, “Prisoners of War,” 16.
Lev, “Prisoners of War,” 16; Yvonne Friedman, “The Ransom of Captives in the Latin Kingdom of
Jerusalem,” in Autour de la Premiere Croisade: Actes du Colloque de la Society for the Study of the
Crusades and the Latin East, ed. Michel Balard (Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne, 1996), 186.
75
Jubb, “Enemies in the Holy War,” 257-8. According to Jubb, in fictional literature of the time, treatment
of captives could be more favourable. In the Itinerarium Regis Ricardi Salah al-Din is held captive by
Humphrey of Toron and is knighted by his captor. In the thirteenth-century Ordene de Chevalrie,
Humphrey is the captive, but his captor Salah al-Din still seeks knowledge about the Christian knighthood,
its virtues, and ceremonies, but Humphrey is reluctant to supply this, because of Salah al-Din’s inferior
faith. This later version was likely meant to be preached in churches, and is more clerical in its outlook.
76
Dajani-Shakeel, “Some Aspects,” 197; Kedar, “The Patriarch Eraclius,” 201; Omran, “Truces between
Moslems and Crusaders,” 433-4; Helen Nicholson, “The Third Crusade: A Campaign of Europe’s Elite,” in
Crusades: The Illustrated History, ed. Thomas F. Madden (Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press,
2004), 97; Friedman, “Women in Captivity,” 77; Dajani-Shakeel, “Diplomatic Relations,” 213. See for
example Kedar, “The Subjected Muslims,” 141; Ibn al-Athir, The Chronicle, vol. 2, 345-6.
74
84
to divergent accommodation.77 Sometimes hostages also faced outright mistreatment and
cruelty.78 Usamah ibn Munqidh recounts a tale where a Frank named Robert FitzFulk was
taken captive in a battle by Il-Ghazi and Tughdakin. Robert set his own ransom at ten
thousand dinars, but Il-Ghazi sought more. He sent him to Tughdakin to scare him into
paying more, but Tughdakin, who had been drinking, cut his head off with a sword before
he could pay the ransom.79 When Joscelin II of Edessa (1131-50) was taken captive in
1150 by Turcomans, he was going to be released for a ransom. However, Nur al-Din took
Joscelin from them, and blinded him and kept him captive for nine years at Aleppo until
Joscelin’s death.80 Many elites possessed a sense of chivalric honour that mandated that
captives be treated well, according to their status, particularly as fellow warriors, but
enmity towards members of another faith, or personal enmity, could prevent hostages
being cared for.
Some nobles were cared for, and during their captivity, which could be lengthy,
sometimes years, they engaged in asymmetrical convergent accommodation towards their
captors, learning to speak their language, Arabic. 81 Through the process of learning their
captors’ language, some captives came to be acquainted, in addition to Arabic, with many
77
Friedman, “Gestures of Conciliation,” 34; Dajani-Shakeel, “Diplomatic Relations,” 214; Friedman, “The
Ransom of Captives,” 186; Lev, “Prisoners of War,” 16.
78
Piers D. Mitchell, “The Torture of Military Captives in the Crusades to the Medieval Middle East,” in
Noble Ideals and Bloody Realities: Warfare in the Middle Ages, ed. Niall Christie and Maya Yazigi
(Leiden: Brill, 2006), 97, 101-5; Friedman, “Women in Captivity,” 81; Lev, “Prisoners of War,” 18.
79
Usama ibn Munqidh, The Book of Contemplation, 132.
80
Tyerman, God’s War, 189; William of Tyre, A History of Deeds Done, vol. 2, 201.
81
Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 333; Giles, Coupland, and Coupland,
“Accommodation Theory,” 12; Ibn al-Qalanisi, Damascus Chronicle, 287-8; William of Tyre, A History of
Deeds Done, vol. 2, 283-5. At the end of the Second Crusade, Bertrand of Toulouse and his sister were
taken captive and held for 12 years. Reynald of Chatillon, the prince of Antioch was taken captive by Nur
al-Din and held captive for 16 years.
85
of the cultural and religious practices, beliefs, and mores of their Muslim captors.82 These
captives subsequently sometimes even became involved in conducting diplomatic
negotiations due to this learned knowledge. For example, the Muslim general Shirkuh
brought Hugh of Caesarea, one of his captives, to act as an envoy in negotiations with
King Amalric of Jerusalem in 1169.83 Such an arrangement benefitted both sides as Hugh
had extensive knowledge of both parties and was able to interpret what each side wanted
and was willing to give.
The ransoming of captives and hostages to release them from captivity became a value
that was held by both Muslims and Christians religiously and chivalrously. The
combination of these two values allowed for the development of ties of respect and
understanding in the ransom of captives, and therefore, convergent accommodation. For
those who shared religious ties with captives, ransoming them was believed to bring
personal spiritual rewards. For Muslims, the Qur’an called for a portion of alms to be set
aside for the purpose of ransoming slaves.84 Muslims already had a long history of
ransoming with their Byzantine neighbours, and they adapted these practices to their
interactions with the crusaders.85 Usamah ibn Munqidh spent much of his life interacting
with the Franks and during periods of truce he would travel to Jerusalem where he would
ransom Muslim captives from King Baldwin II (1118-31).86 Usamah’s family ruled the
city of Shayzar and paid tribute to Baldwin. When the king was taken captive, Usamah
82
Friedman, “Gestures of Conciliation,” 35; Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 333.
William of Tyre, A History of Deeds Done, vol. 2, 339-41.
84
“Zakat collections are only for the needy and the indigent, and for those who are employed to collect
them and for those whose hearts are to be won over and for the ransoming of slaves and for helping the
debtors and for the Way of Allah and for the hospitality of the way-farers. This is an obligatory duty from
Allah: and Allah is All-Knowing, All-Wise.” Qur’an 9:60. Lev, “Prisoners of War,” 20.
85
Lev, “Prisoners of War,” 23; Friedman, “The Ransom of Captives,” 179.
86
Usama Ibn Munqidh, The Book of Contemplation, 93-4; Lev, “Prisoners of War,” 26.
83
86
used his political connections to help ransom him, keeping the king at Shayzar and later
holding captive for his release while his ransom was raised. 87 By the Second and Third
Crusades, the crusaders had adopted this tradition of ransoming and saw it as both a
valued spiritual exercise as well as a practical means to negotiate peace. 88 The crusaders
saw ransoming as similar to other acts of charity like giving food or clothing to the poor,
and as such it was a way for them to identify themselves with Jesus Christ (see Matt.
25:36).89 Yet the practice of ransoming was also a way to evade holy war and attain
peace. Thus, while it supported prescriptive ideology to some degree, ransoming can also
be seen as a form of convergent accommodation.
Ransoming could also be seen in light of chivalric virtues. Elite captors who allowed for
the ransom of captives were admired by fellow elites of the other faith, and this could
lead to respective convergence in the freeing of captives. Salah al-Din’s generosity, an
important chivalric quality, was well-noted, not only in Muslim sources, but also in
Christian sources.90 When he captured Jerusalem in 1187, he reduced the ransoms he had
originally demanded and allowed many of the poor to go free or pay a far smaller ransom
than he had demanded, proving his virtue and generosity, and increasing his esteem
among both Muslims and Christians.91 The Old French Continuation of William of Tyre
also speaks of a group of women whose husbands had either been killed or taken captive
87
Usama Ibn Munqidh, The Book of Contemplation, 115-16; Asbridge, “The ‘Crusader’ Community at
Antioch,” 322; Dajani-Shakeel, “Diplomatic Relations,” 214.
88
Dajani-Shakeel, “Diplomatic Relations,” 213; Housley, Fighting for the Cross, 216; Friedman, “The
Ransom of Captives,” 184; Giles, Coupland, and Coupland, “Accommodation Theory,” 11.
89
“I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came
to visit me.” Matt. 25:36 (NIV); Friedman, “Women in Captivity,” 76; Friedman, “The Ransom of
Captives,” 179.
90
Hamilton, “Knowing the Enemy,” 385. For examples of Salah al-Din’s chivalric qualities in Muslim
sources see Baha’ al-Din, The Rare and Excellent History of Saladin, 19, 36.
91
Edbury, The Conquest of Jerusalem, 61-3; Ibn al-Athir, The Chronicle of Ibn al-Athir, vol. 2, 332.
87
at Jerusalem going to Salah al-Din and begging for mercy. He took pity on them and
agreed to release any of the husbands of those women who remained alive.92 Salah al-Din
was greatly admired for his chivalric qualities, his generosity in particular, even towards
certain Christians. The ransom of captives at times fostered a respect between members
of both faiths, and within the chivalric community.
Another convergent form of accommodation towards captors was the conversion of
captives to the faith of their captor. Women in particular were among those who
converted to the faith of their captors, attested to by the Arab-Syrian gentleman Usamah
ibn Munqidh. These conversions do appear at times to have been conversions based on
circumstance rather than on a true change of belief, as they did not always last. 93 Men
who remained prisoners for an extended period also at times chose to convert, sometimes
even for reasons of faith rather than convenience. Ibn Jubayr (Abu’l-Husayn Muhammad
Ibn Ahmad ibn Jubayr, 1145-1217), the secretary to the Moorish governor of Granada,
went on pilgrimage to Mecca, and on his return in 1184 travelled through the crusader
states, recording in a diary his impressions of the lands he journeyed through. In his
writings Ibn Jubayr recalled an encounter with a Muslim who converted to Christianity
after being released from a Frankish prison. Ibn Jubayr lamented how this man was
seduced to turn away from the faith of Islam and become baptized, thereby making
92
Edbury, The Conquest of Jerusalem, 64.
Friedman, “Women in Captivity,” 85-6; Niall Christie, “Just a Bunch of Dirty Stories? Women in the
‘Memoirs’ of Usamah ‘Ibn Munqidh,” in Eastward Bound: Travel and Travellers, 1050-1550, ed.
Rosamund Allen (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2004), 74; Usama Ibn Munqidh, The Book of
Contemplation, 143; Giles, Coupland, and Coupland, “Accommodation Theory,” 12.
93
88
himself unclean, suggesting this was not a conversion of convenience but one of true
conviction94
The crusaders in the twelfth century generally expressed very little interest in converting
the general Muslim population, and it was never the express goal of any papal summons
to crusade. Nor did converts ever play a significant role in the politics or administration
of the kingdom of Jerusalem.95 The crusaders’ response to those belonging to the Muslim
warrior elite, however, was different. The desire to bring conversion to chivalric knights
was strongly evident in both chronicles and literature. A tension always existed in knights
between prescriptive Christian beliefs that saw Muslims as an ‘other,’ and the respect that
was engendered through chivalric identity. Through conversion Muslims would be
brought into the Christian group identity and this act would legitimize the respect the
crusaders held for them.96 Sometimes this desire was realized and Muslim knights did
convert. The Old French Continuation of William of Tyre records during the 1187 siege
of Tyre by Salah al-Din the son of one of his emirs becoming angry with his father. He
came to Conrad of Monteferrat, converting to Christianity, and helped Conrad capture
five of the Muslim army’s ships. 97 While there were some legitimate conversions,
conversions through a change in belief remained rare. Apostasy from Islam was a capital
offence, so converting was a serious decision, taken most often when the alternatives
94
Ibn Jubayr, The Travels of Ibn Jubayr, 323; Hadia Dajani-Shakeel, “Natives and Franks in Palestine:
Perceptions and Interaction,” in Conversion and Continuity: Indigenous Christian Communities in Islamic
Lands, Eighth to Eighteenth Centuries, ed. Michael Gervers and Ramzi Jibran Bikhazi (Toronto: Pontifical
Institute of Medieval Studies, 1990), 174; Benjamin Z. Kedar, Crusade and Mission: European
Approaches toward the Muslims (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1984): 80.
95
Kedar, Crusade and Mission, 60, 75.
96
Hamilton, “Knowing the Enemy,” 380; Jacoby, “Knightly Values,” 174-6; Jubb, “The Crusaders’
Perceptions,” 235; Daniel, Heroes and Saracens, 38-9.
97
Edbury, The Conquest of Jerusalem, 68; Kedar, Crusade and Mission, 76.
89
were equally dire, for example to avoid death or starvation. Most converts reverted to
their own faith again when it was possible. For example, at the conclusion of the siege of
Acre, when crusaders took the city, they promised all Muslims who converted to
Christianity would be freed. Those who were afraid they would be killed converted, but
as soon as they were freed, they returned to Salah al-Din.98 Because of this, deep levels of
trust did not exist between converts and those who shared their newfound faith. This fact
did not decrease the desire of knights to see Muslim elites join the Christian group
identity and therefore belong to two complementary groups, where they could be admired
for their chivalric qualities and their religious convictions.
Salah al-Din was one of the Muslims greatly admired by the crusaders, and whom they
desired to convert, but, unsurprisingly, he showed no desire to convert. In fact, many of
the warriors the crusaders most admired showed no inclination to convert.99 To legitimize
the respect westerners had for him, particularly in literature after his death when he no
longer posed a threat, his ferocity and enmity towards the Christian world were
downplayed, with focus shifting to his chivalric virtues such as his prowess in battle or
his generosity.100 He was appropriated into the Western chivalric tradition and claimed as
a Western hero. This involved presenting Salah al-Din as having a French bloodline
98
Kedar, Crusade and Mission, 83; Hamilton, “Knowing the Enemy,” 376; Hillenbrand, The Crusades:
Islamic Perspectives, 375-7; James Muldoon, “Tolerance and Intolerance in the Medieval Canon Lawyers,”
on Tolerance and Intolerance: Social Conflict in the Age of the Crusades, ed. Michael Gervers and James
M. Powell (Syracuse, New York: Syracuse University Press, 2001), 119; Nicholson, The Chronicle of the
Third Crusade, 132, 218; Ibn al-Athir, The Chronicle, vol. 2, 104; Roger de Hoveden, The Annals of Roger
de Hoveden, vol. 2, part 1, 214-15.
99
Hamilton, “Knowing the Enemy,” 381-2.
100
Jubb, “The Crusaders’ Perceptions,” 238-9; Jubb, “Enemies in the Holy War,” 255; Maragaret A. Jubb,
“Saladin Vu Par Guillaume de Tyre et Par L’Eracles: Changement de Perspectives,” in Autour de la
Premiere Croisade, edited by Michel Balard (Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne, 1996), 447; Ann Kontor,
“The Bold and the Beautiful: A Courtois Saladin?” Chimères 28 (Spring 2004): 73, 76.
90
through his mother, or having been knighted or baptized, bringing him into the Christian
faith and identity.101 After his death, when Salah al-Din was no longer threatening the
existence of the crusader states, audiences in the West became more interested in hearing
of a noble knight rather than an enemy. Salah al-Din became an adoptive hero of
chivalric literature.102 In doing so these works downplayed his ‘otherness’ and began to
claim him as a Christian, as well as a chivalric warrior, merging two disparate group
identities.
When the crusaders arrived in the Holy Land, one of their main driving forces was a
universalist Christian identity that sought to have the crusaders fight a holy war against
Muslim infidels as an act of penance, to protect fellow Christians and the Holy Land.
Most crusaders had never met any Muslims before their arrival in the Levant, and their
preconceptions were based on stereotypes and religiously charged ideas preached by
ecclesiastics. However, when the crusaders, in particular the elite crusaders, came into
contact with actual Muslims, some of their group beliefs and behaviours towards
Muslims were challenged. This direct contact caused certain group beliefs of the
crusaders, in particular the need to engage in constant holy war, to be reduced in
importance, and allowed for limited convergent accommodation through diplomatic
exchanges. Other group identities, in particular, that of chivalry among elite warriors,
also encouraged a change in attitude towards Muslim fellow elite warriors, breeding a
respect for military and moral values possessed by Muslims that was otherwise
101
Jubb, “The Crusaders’ Perceptions,” 238-9; Jacoby, “Knightly Values,” 175; Kontor, “The Bold and the
Beautiful,” 74; Nicholson, The Chronicle of the Third Crusade, 27.
102
Jubb, “Saladin vue par Guillaume de Tyr,” 450-1; Jubb, “Enemies in the Holy War,” 258; Jacoby,
“Knightly Values,” 174-6.
91
impossible. However, while other group identities, in particular chivalry, challenged the
primacy of religious belief for crusaders, their identity as Catholic Christians ultimately
remained one of the most important group identities, and played a significant role in
shaping their actions. Only through conversion, a limited occurrence, could a Muslim
truly become part of the crusader community. Because of the universalist nature of the
crusaders’ religious identity, their relationship with the Muslims of the Levant remained
one of limited contact and accommodation.
92
CHAPTER THREE: MEMBERS OF THE MILITARY ORDERS
For most crusaders, the trip to the Holy Land on crusade was a relatively short term one.
Crusaders came to participate in a military endeavour, and, ideally, worship at many of
the holy places within the Levant. Once this was accomplished and their vows were
fulfilled they returned home. Some warriors, particularly dedicated to the crusading ideal
and a religious life, however, joined military orders, religious orders that committed
themselves to the care and defence of fellow Christians in the East. The two orders that
will be the focus of this chapter are the Hospitallers (Hospital of St John of Jerusalem)
and the Templars (Knights of the Temple of Solomon of Jerusalem). Members of these
orders usually served much longer tours of duty in the East than did ordinary crusaders,
although they also spent periods of time at posts in Europe as well. For the military
orders, the defence of the Latin East against Muslim enemies became long term
occupations.1 Members of the military orders shared a group identity with the crusaders
as members of Christendom who embraced the value of crusading, but their identity as
members of military-religious orders and their longer experience in the East made their
attitudes and behaviours towards the Muslims of the Levant somewhat different from
those of the crusaders, and resulted in a greater degree of both divergent and convergent
accommodation.2
1
Riley-Smith, The Crusades, Christianity, and Islam, 10; Riley-Smith, The Crusades: A Short History,
xxx, 59; Riley-Smith, “The Military Orders and the East,” 137; Alan Forey, “Constitutional Conflict and
Change in the Hospital of St John during the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries,” Journal of Ecclesiastical
History, 33, no. 1 (January 1982): 27-8.
2
Nicholson, The Knights Templar, 152; Bar-Tal, Group Beliefs, 1-3, 8; Giles, Coupland, and Coupland,
“Accommodation Theory,” 11.
93
The military orders combined monasticism and knighthood with both warfare and
charitable acts expressing members’ devotion to a religious life.3 These two distinct
aspects could lead to contradictions in the lives of the brethren, particularly in the case of
the Hospitallers, and led to a continual balancing of priorities, which also led to a variety
of both convergent and divergent accommodation with Muslims. 4 Fundamental to the
identity of both groups by the 1140s was military opposition to the Muslims, although the
Hospitallers initially were not a military order. As this suggests, the military identity of
the orders intensified over time, reflecting divergent accommodation. Between the 1150s
and 1190s, the orders were integral to many significant campaigns against the Muslims,
and gained the reputation among Muslims of being their most dangerous opponents.5
Nevertheless, the long service of members in the East and their extensive knowledge of
the intricacies of political and military matters meant that their leaders were frequently
chosen to serve as intermediaries in diplomatic situations between Christians and
Muslims, encouraging a high degree of contact. This knowledge and the fact that the
orders’ primary residences were in the Levant made them more inclined to accept the
advantages of certain forms of convergent accommodation, such as negotiations and
peace treaties. An important factor in the identity of the members of the orders was their
residence in the Levant, which meant they routinely had contact with Muslims, not only
elites, but also the peasants and slaves who worked on their estates. This familiarity led to
various forms of convergent accommodation, such as friendly relations with individual
3
Licence, “The Military Orders as Monastic Orders,” 53; Menache, “The Military Orders in the Crusader
Kingdom,” 137; Innocent II, “Omne datum optimum,” 93.
4
Nicholson, The Knights Templar, 129; Giles, Coupland, and Coupland, “Accommodation Theory,” 7-8,
27; Bar-Tal, Group Beliefs, 79.
5
Baha’ al-Din, The Rare and Excellent History of Saladin, 74; Ibn al-Athir, The Chronicle, vol. 2, 185;
Riley-Smith, The Knights of St. John in Jerusalem, 75, 78; Nicholson, Templars, Hospitallers and Teutonic
Knights, 131; Nicholson, The Knights Templar, 77, 79.
94
Muslims, and the sharing of religious sites that had meaning to both faiths. 6
Additionally, the Hospitallers regularly came into contact with Muslim patients and
doctors in medical facilities, something that led to the adoption of some Muslim practices
and ideas. Despite these varied levels and types of contact, brothers did not generally
engage in a deeper intellectual exchange with Muslims, except, to a limited extent,
through the medical profession.7 The members of the military orders, despite their often
fierce response to Muslim armies, did engage in more convergent accommodation than
the crusaders. However, their religious convictions, and the fact that only certain
members remained permanently in the East, meant that fighting holy wars against
Muslims remained relatively central to their identity, and they were less inclined towards
convergent accommodation than the permanent settlers.
Modern scholarly interest in the military orders began in the 1950s with Jonathan RileySmith’s volume on the Hospitallers in Jerusalem and with the work of Jean Richard and
Joshua Prawer on the Latin kingdom of Jerusalem.8 These works highlighted the role of
the military orders in the protection of the Levant and the role they played in the daily life
of the crusader states. In the last thirty years, interest in the military orders has flourished
among historians. This has been fuelled by the growth of the study of crusading, with the
6
Riley-Smith, The Knights of St. John in Jerusalem, 75, 78; Nicholson, Templars, Hospitallers and
Teutonic Knights 131; Nicholson, The Knights Templar, 77, 79.
7
Riley-Smith, Templars and Hospitallers as Professed Religious, 2, 26; Riley-Smith, “The Military Orders
and the East,” 147, 149; Edgington, “Medical Care in the Hospital of St. John,” 28; Edgington, “Oriental
and Occidental Medicine,” 208.
8
Riley-Smith, Templars and Hospitallers as Professed Religious, vii; Riley-Smith, The Knights of St John
in Jerusalem; Jean Richard, The Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem trans. Janet Shirley (Paris: Presses
Universitaires de France, 1953; New York: North-Holland Publishing Company, 1979). Citations refer to
the North-Holland edition; Joshua Prawer, The Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem: European Colonialism in the
Middle Ages (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1972).
95
development of the military orders being contextualized within the crusades.9 Also
important has been the rediscovery and use of the western archives of the Orders in
Europe, which initially tended to be ignored in favour of those in the East.10 This research
has helped elucidate the structure of the orders and their involvement in their
communities, including their role in the commerce and economy of the crusader states,
something that is very important for this project.11 Another important development for
this project has been a renewed interest in the identity of the orders and their significance
as religious orders. Whereas older scholarship focused on the orders primarily as military
organizations, new scholarship is recognizing the piety and religious convictions that
drove the orders and were fundamental to their role and purpose both in the Latin East
and in the West.12 This chapter will argue likewise that religion was fundamental to the
9
Jonathan Riley-Smith, introduction to The Military Orders Volume 2: Welfare and Warfare, ed. Helen
Nicholson (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1998), xxv.
10
Riley-Smith, Templars and Hospitallers as Professed Religious, 2; Riley-Smith, “The Crusading
Movement and Historians,” 10; Riley-Smith, introduction to The Military Orders Volume 2, xxv; Michael
Gervers, ed., The Cartulary of the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem in England, 2 vols. (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1982-1996).
11
For examples see Alan Forey, “The Militarisation of the Hospital of St. John,” in The Military Orders
and Crusades (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1994), 75-89; Forey, “The Emergence of the Military Order” 175-95;
Helen Nicholson, “Before William of Tyre: European Reports on the Military Orders’ Deeds in the East,
1150-1185,” in The Military Orders Volume 2: Welfare and Warfare, ed. Helen Nicholson (Aldershot:
Ashgate, 1998), 111-18; Riley-Smith, “The Military Orders and the East” 137-49; Jochen Burgtorf, “The
Military Orders in the Crusader Principality of Antioch,” in East and West in the Medieval Eastern
Mediterranean, ed. Krijnie Nelly Ciggar and David Michael Metcalf (Leuven: Uitgeverij Peeters en
Departement Oosterse Studies, 2006), 217-46; Malcolm Barber, “Supplying the Crusader States: The Role
of the Templars,” in Crusaders and Heretics, 12th-14th Centuries (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1995), Essay XII,
314-26; Riley-Smith, The Knights of St John in Jerusalem.
12
Riley-Smith, introduction to The Military Orders, Volume 2, xxvii; Helen Nicholson, “The Changing
Face of the Templars: Current Trends in Historiography,” History Compass 8, no. 7 (2010): 656; RileySmith, Templars and Hospitallers as Professed Religious, 2. For examples see Grabois, “Militia and
Malitia” 49-56; Rudolf Hiestand, “Some Reflections on the Impact of the Papacy on the Crusader States
and the Military Orders in the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries,” in The Crusades and the Military Orders
Expanding the Frontiers of Medieval Latin Christianity, ed. Zsolt Hunyadi and Jozsef Laszlovsky
(Budapest: Department of Medieval Studies, Central European University, 2001), 3-20; Licence, “The
Military Orders as Monastic Orders,” 39-53; Riley-Smith, Templars and Hospitallers as Professed
Religious; Jonathan Riley-Smith, “Towards a History of Military-Religious Orders,” in The Hospitallers,
the Mediterranean and Europe: Festschrift for Anthony Luttrell, ed. Karl Borchardt, Nikolas Jaspert and
Helen J. Nicholson (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007), 269-284; Riley-Smith, “Crusading as an Act of Love,”
177-192.
96
identity of the members of the military orders. Similarly, the role of the Hospitallers as
medical practitioners and the type of care they provided in the East also has recently
attracted scholarly interest, making it clear how regular interaction with Muslims was in
this context.13
While such studies provide an important foundation for this chapter, the precise nature of
the relationship forged between members of the military orders and their Muslim enemies
and subjects in the Levant has been accorded only limited attention in modern research.
Nevertheless, several historians have examined the forms of contact between the
members and Muslims, including their military and diplomatic encounters, their medical
interactions, their contact through religious sites and ceremonies, and their settlement of
the Levant and connections to Muslim peasants and slaves on their estates.14 While these
studies provide important insights into contacts between the military orders and Muslims,
and will be discussed in the relevant sections of this chapter, the current study deepens
the analysis by discussing such contacts in the broader context of the identity of Latin
Christians in the East and the way in which that identity affected the types of contact and
the amount of accommodation with Muslims. As this chapter will suggest, their group
13
For examples see Edgington, “Medical Care in the Hospital of St John,” 27-34; Edgington, “Oriental and
Occidental Medicine,” 189-215; Woodings, “The Medical Resources and Practices,” 268-277; Benjamin Z.
Kedar, “A Twelfth-Century Description of the Jerusalem Hospital,” in The Military Orders Volume 2:
Welfare and Warfare, ed. Helen Nicholson (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1998), 3-26; Barber, “The Charitable and
Medical Activities,” 148-68.
14
For examples see Forey, “The Militarisation of the Hospital,” 75-89; Forey, “The Military Orders and the
Ransoming of Captives,” 259-79; Hamblin, “Muslim Perspectives,” 97-118; Nicholson, The Knights
Hospitaller; Nicholson, The Knights Templar; Riley-Smith, Templars and Hospitallers as Professed
Religious; Riley-Smith, The Knights of St John of Jerusalem; Barber, “The Charitable and Medical
Activities,” 148-68; Edgington, “Medical Care in the Hospital,” 27-34; Kedar, “A Twelfth-Century
Description,” 3-26; Forey, “The Military Orders and the Conversion of Muslims,” 1-22; Benjamin Z.
Kedar, “Convergences of Oriental Christian, Muslim and Frankish Worshippers: The Case of Saydnaya and
the Knights Templar,” in The Crusades and the Military Orders: Expanding the Frontiers of Medieval
Latin Christianity, ed. Zsolt Hunyadi and József Laszlovszky (Budapest: Department of Medieval Studies,
Central European University, 2001), 89-100.
97
identity as members of religious-military orders provided warriors with an ideology that
made them some of the fiercest military opponents of the Muslims. The permanent status
of their organizations in the East, and more extensive non-military contacts with
Muslims, however, led to more instances of convergent accommodation than between
Muslims and crusaders.15
The focus of this chapter is often on the collective actions of the military orders as a
group, rather than on individuals, although individual elite members are discussed when
possible. This is a consequence of the institutional nature of many of the available
sources. Chronicles recorded the military and diplomatic activities of the military orders,
but most often focused on the action of the orders as a whole along with the Christian
army, rather than on specific individuals, though the role of the master is often
highlighted.16 The statutes and rules that governed the running and administration of the
orders reveal prescriptive expectations, but not individual realities. 17 Some letters written
by leaders of the orders, often masters, to the West have survived, providing some
information about individual elite members, but overall little personal writing by
15
Bar-Tal, Group Identity, 3, 7-8; Giles, Coupland, and Coupland, “Accommodation Theory,” 7-8.
Chronicles that provide details on the military orders’ military exploits include Nicholson, The Chronicle
of the Third Crusade; Edbury, The Conquest of Jerusalem; William of Tyre, A History of Deeds Done, vol.
1-2; Baha’ al-Din The Rare and Excellent History of Saladin; Ibn al-Athir, The Chronicle, vol. 1-2.
17
For examples see Paschal II, “Papal Bull Confirming the Foundation of the Order, 1113-13,” in The Rule,
Statutes and Customs of the Hospitallers, 1099-1310, ed. Colonel E. J. King (New York: AMS Press,
1980), 16-19; Raymond du Puy, “The Rule of Blessed Raymond du Puy, 1120-60,” in The Rule Statutes
and Customs of the Hospitallers, 1099-1310, ed. Colonel E. J. King (New York: AMS Press, 1980), 20-8;
Jobert, “Statutes of Fr. Jobert, 1172-7,” in The Rule, Statutes and Customs of the Hospitallers, 1099-1310,
ed. Colonel E. J. King (New York: AMS Press, 1980), 29-33; Roger des Moulins, “Statutes of Fr. Roger
des Moulins, 1177-87,” in The Rule, Statutes and Customs of the Hospitallers, 1099-1310, ed. Colonel E. J.
King (New York: AMS Press, 1980), 34-40; Barber and Bate, The Templars: Selected Sources, 31-53, 6773; Upton-Ward, The Rule of the Templars, 19-55, 82-105.
16
98
members survives.18 This, in part, is because the orders emphasized the community, and
it was against the nature of the orders to single out individual members’ actions.19 The
surviving records of the orders also tend to be focused on institutional, rather than
individual matters.20 Because of these restrictions, therefore, this chapter will focus on
the role of members as a whole within the order, as well as the function of specific
positions within the orders, and the way these positions influenced the interactions
between members of the military orders and surrounding Muslim enemies.
A fundamental role for both the Templars and Hospitallers in the period between the
1150s and 1190s was military protection of the Holy Land against Muslims. They played
an active and often leading role in most military conflicts during this period and were
among the Muslims’ most feared opponents. This was not the original function of either
group, and their evolution in this direction, particularly in the case of the Hospitallers,
should be seen as a significant example of divergent accommodation.21 As will be
discussed in the next chapter, the permanent Frankish population of the crusader states
was always relatively small and the number of short-term crusaders usually inadequate to
deal with the continual threat posed by surrounding Muslim states. 22 The transformation
18
For numerous examples of letters written by military order members see Barber and Bate, Letters from
the East, 47-87.
19
Nicholson, The Knights Templar, 512.
20
Alan Forey, “The Career of a Templar: Peter of St Just,” in Knighthoods of Christ: Essays on the History
of the Crusades and the Knights Templar, Presented to Malcolm Barber, ed. Norman Housley (Ashgate:
Aldershot, 2007), 183.
21
Phillips, “Archbishop Henry of Reims,” 84; Nicholson, The Knights Templar, 23; Giles, Coupland, and
Coupland, “Accommodation Theory,” 9-10, 32.
22
The settlers were always a minority. At their height, their numbers were approximately equal to a third of
the indigenous inhabitants of the crusader states. In the 1180s it is estimated the Frankish population
measured around 100,000-140,000 while the subject population numbered somewhere in the range of
300,000-360,000. Kedar, “The Subjected Muslims,” 148; Ronnie Ellenblum, Frankish Rural Settlement in
the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 31; Riley-Smith, The
Crusades: A Short History, 51.
99
of these orders into organizations dedicated to protecting the crusader states from
Muslims reflects this pressing problem, as well as the orders’ adherence to the
prescriptive ideology associated with their identity as members of Christendom.
Military opposition to the Muslims formed part of the collective identity of the Templars
from the start. Around 1119 Hugh of Payns formed the order specifically to protect
Christian pilgrims travelling to and from Jerusalem against Muslim attacks and raids. 23
The Church expanded this mandate to the protection of all Christians in the Holy Land
when Pope Innocent II (1130-43) issued the bull Omne datum optimum, in which he
called on the Templar brothers to commit themselves to the protection and defence of the
Church itself from all who came against it.24 In 1149 the brothers of the order took on
official protection of the kingdom of Jerusalem and were given control of the castle at
Gaza to keep watch on the Muslim-controlled city of Ascalon, a city which served as a
gateway to Egypt and was a weak point in the protection of the crusader states.25 The
group identity of the original brethren of the Temple was based on a coming together of
monastic, religious life, and knighthood, based on a belief in the necessity and
virtuousness of living an active spiritual life, by providing fellow Christians in the Holy
23
Nicholson, The Knights Templar, 23-6; Riley-Smith, Templars and Hospitallers as Professed Religious,
10; Adrian J. Boas, Jerusalem in the Time of the Crusades: Society, Landscape and Art in the Holy City
under Frankish Rule (London: Routledge, 2001), 27; Bar-Tal, Group Beliefs, 49; See Barber and Bate, The
Templars, 25-31 for four contemporary descriptions of the foundation of the Templars.
24
Menache, “The Military Orders in the Crusader Kingdom,” 139; Innocent II, “Omne datum optimum,”
93; Nicholson, Templars, Hospitallers and Teutonic Knights, 15; Gregory VIII, “Audita tremendi,” 66.
Pope Celestine II (1143-4) provided a similar call, comparing the Templars to the Maccabees, as did Pope
Gregory VIII in the 1187 bull Audita tremendi. See “Latin Rule, 1129,” in The Templars: Selected Sources
Translated and Annotated, ed. and trans. Malcolm Barber and Keith Bate (New York: Manchester
University Press, 2002), 31-54 for the first Rule of the Templars.
25
Nicholson, Templars, Hospitallers and Teutonic Knights, 2; Nicholson, The Knights Templar, 54-5.
100
Land with protection from the Muslim infidel.26 In his work In Praise of the New
Knighthood, the preacher Bernard of Clairvaux saw the Templars as militia, fighting for
God, whereas secular knights were malitia, driven by earthly desires.27 They viewed their
role in the East as a defensive one.28 Whereas most religious orders demanded that
members abandon their military activities, the order provided a way for laymen to use
their military skills in legitimized warfare against the Muslims, while continuing to
embrace many of the other aspects of monastic life, such as prayer, obedience, chastity,
and personal poverty. Therefore, both fighting the Muslims and the elements of a
monastic life, such as prayer, and following monastic hours, were integral to their identity
and sources suggest that members took the vows of the order seriously and followed the
Rule and statutes of their order closely in the twelfth century at least. 29
The original identity of the Hospitallers was, like that of the Templars, rooted in Christian
faith and monastic values, but, in contrast to the Templars, they initially had no
association with violence and military activity, though they gradually took on a military
role in the Holy Land. As a result, their relationship with Muslims was always more
ambiguous than that of the Templars.30 The original Hospitallers were Amalfitan
merchants who started a hospice in 1071 with the permission of the Fatimid caliphate at
26
Riley-Smith, Templars and Hospitallers as Professed Religious, 12; Grabois, “Militia and Malitia,” 50;
Menache, “The Military Orders and the Crusader Kingdom,” 137; Bar-Tal, Group Beliefs, 53-4.
27
Bernard of Clairvaux, In Praise of the New Knighthood, 33-43; Grabois, “Militia and Malitia,” 49-50;
Phillips, The Second Crusade, 73.
28
Forey, “The Emergence of the Military Order,” 184.
29
Nicholson, The Knights Templar, 138, 140; Forey, “the Military Orders, 1120-1312,” 213-16. The orders
were not always regarded as following a spiritual and monastic life. In 1307 the Templars in France were
arrested by Philip IV, who claimed the Templars had violated their calling. Pope Clement V extended the
call to all Western rulers to arrest the Templars and take possession of all their estates. During their trial it
was claimed that recruits were forced upon initiation to deny Christ, that the brothers worshipped idols, and
that homosexuality was encouraged. For summarized list of charges against the Templars see Nicholson,
The Templars, 206.
30
Phillips, The Second Crusade, 3; Bar-Tal, Group Beliefs, 77.
101
the church of St Mary of the Latins in Jerusalem.31 In addition to providing a place for
fellow merchants to stay, the Amalfitans took in destitute pilgrims and fed and cared for
them.32 After the First Crusade and Latin Christian take-over of Jerusalem, the hospice
came under the rule of the canons of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and the
Hospitallers were established. The first master Raymond du Puy (1129-60) instituted a
Rule, based on the Augustinian Rule, which laid out the running of the monastic order. 33
Instituted in the first Rule, and reaffirmed in the statutes of Roger des Moulins (1177-87),
the brothers were to care for all poor with “zeal and devotion” as if they were lords. 34
This commandment extended to all religions, including Muslims and Jews, for, as Acts
10:34 said, “God is not a respecter of persons” and wishes “no one to perish.”35 The
brothers of the Hospital also hired Muslim physicians, along with Christian ones,
respecting their medical skills.36 It was only after the foundation of the Templars that
brothers of the Hospital gradually extended their order’s involvement in the East to
include military opposition to Muslims.37 By the Second Crusade, like the brothers of the
Temple, the members of the Hospital committed themselves to the hiring of men to escort
and protect pilgrims from Muslim raids, and by the 1140s they were involved in
31
Barber, “The Charitable and Medical Activities,” 149; William of Tyre, A History of Deeds Done, vol. 2,
242; Phillips, The Second Crusade, 3.
32
Edgington, “Medical Care in the Hospital,” 31-2; Riley-Smith, The Knights of St John in Jerusalem, 34;
William of Tyre, A History of Deeds Done, vol. 2, 243-5; Phillips, The Second Crusade, 3.
33
King, introduction to The Rule, Statutes and Customs, 2; Riley-Smith, The Knights of St John in
Jerusalem, 43-4.
34
Translated in Raymond du Puy, “The Rule,” 26; Roger des Moulins, “Statutes,” 37; Riley-Smith,
Templars and Hospitallers as Professed Religious, 19; Barber, “The Charitable and Medical Activities,”
150-6.
35
Barber, “The Charitable and Medical Activities,” 156; Kedar, “A Twelfth-Century Description,” 6.
36
Riley-Smith, Templars and Hospitallers as Professed Religious, 19; Edgington, “Medical Care in the
Hospital of St John,” 27-8. In the statutes of Roger des Moulins an alternative oath was provided for
doctors who were not Christians. Doctors either had to swear by the saints or vow to do everything they
could for a patient without expectation of payment. For more on medical interactions between Christians
and Muslims, see below and chapter four.
37
King, introduction to The Rule, Statutes and Customs, 3; Forey, “The Militarisation of the Hospital,” 7582, 86; Nicholson, The Knights Hospitaller, 11-13, 21.
102
protecting the Holy Land from surrounding Muslim powers, working both with the rulers
of the crusader states, and independently. 38 The Hospitallers, in their gradual
transformation into an order dedicated to the military defence of the Holy Land against
Muslims, provide a striking example of divergent accommodation. Yet, their original
identity as carers for the needy, regardless of religion, persisted, resulting ultimately, as
will be argued later in this chapter, in a considerable degree of convergent
accommodation.39
The military orders were international organizations that recruited from across Western
Christendom, with many recruits originating in France, mostly from the lesser nobility,
merchant classes, craftsmen, agriculturalists, and free peasants, rather than from the high
nobility.40 Because those who joined the orders came from across Europe, and from a
variety of professions, they possessed many different individual and group identities.
However, upon joining the orders, they received a new, overarching group identity, that
of a member of a religious-military order, dedicated to fighting for the protection of the
Holy Land from Muslim enemies. All professed brethren, like most other religious
orders, took religious vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. But, unlike most other
38
Nicholson, The Knights Hospitaller, 10-11, 21; Riley-Smith, The Knights of St John in Jerusalem, 55, 66;
Forey, “The Militarisation of the Hospital,” 77.
39
Nicholson, The Knights Templar, 129; Bar-Tal, Group Beliefs, 7-9, 79; Giles, “Accommodation Theory,”
11-12.
40
Alan Forey, The Military Orders: From the Twelfth to the Early Fourteenth Centuries (Toronto:
University of Toronto Press, 1992), 133; Nicholson, The Knights Templar, 54; Nicholson, The Knights
Hospitaller, 85; Nicholson, Templars, Hospitallers and Teutonic Knights, 63; Beatrice A. Lees, M.A., ed.,
Records of the Templars in England in the Twelfth Century: The Inquest of 1185 with Illustrative Charters
and Documents (London: British Academy by Humphrey Milford, Oxford University Press, 1935), lxi-lxii..
103
religious orders, their identity was tied to combat, rather than contemplation. 41 Brothers
who were engaged in combat were either knights, skilled soldiers who fought on
horseback, or sergeants, soldiers who had less skill and heavy armour, and who had not
been knighted. In addition to professed brothers, the orders also accepted temporary
members who supported the goals and needs of the orders, including crusaders would
join the orders’ field armies, as well as associates who did not take full membership.42
Others served with the orders as penance. For example, the two men who murdered
Thomas Becket were sent to serve with the Templars for 14 years. 43 While members
joined the orders for a number of reasons, and from wide geographical areas, the common
goals and religious structure provided a shared group identity that separated them from
other Christians in the East and would come to influence their interactions with Muslims
and the level of accommodation they engaged in.
The length of time members of the military orders spent in the East could vary greatly,
but members of the order in general, and their leaders in particular, usually served longer
periods in the East than the short-term crusaders, and thus were more aware of the
political and social conditions of the East. This heightened knowledge often led them to
more extensive contact with Muslims, and encouraged them to engage in more
convergent accommodation as well. Members of the military orders were generally sent
41
Licence, “The Military Orders as Monastic Orders,” 46; Barber, “The Social Context of the Templars,”
41; Upton-Ward, The Primitive Rule of the Templars, 22, 34-5; Forey, “The Emergence of the Military
Order,” 179.
42
Nicholson, The Knights Templar, 124; Forey, The Military Orders, 55; Riley-Smith, The Knights of St.
John in Jerusalem, 230, 243-4.
43
Forey, The Military Orders, 56.
104
to the East almost immediately after recruitment if they were militarily skilled.44 For most
brethren their service in the Levant was not permanent, and many brothers later in their
careers returned to Europe to work in the commanderies that produced the goods and
finances needed to supply the orders in the Holy Land. 45 According to the depositions of
Templars when the order was put on trial starting in 1307, the average length of service
was 14.6 years, with times of service ranging from less than a month, to over 45 years. 46
Many senior members of the central convent of the Hospital before 1291 had spent their
careers going between posts in the East and the West, but had been members of the order
for over 20 years.47 The orders were usually led at the highest level by those most
familiar with the realities of the life the East, although lesser officials like bailiffs
(administrators) might serve shorter terms, at the beginning of their careers. The master
of each order was elected for life.48
The long-term service of the masters and other leaders was important in providing an
understanding to the orders of the political and military situation in the East, and making
them more open to accommodation with Muslims than short-term crusaders. Both orders
were overseen by a master who was in charge of the administration of the order, as well
44
Helen Nicholson, “Myths and Reality: The Crusades and the Latin East as Presented during the Trial of
the Templars in the British Isles, 1308-1311,” in On the Margins of Crusading: The Military Orders, the
Papacy and the Christian World (Farnham: Ashgate, 2011), 96; Riley-Smith, Templars and Hospitallers as
Professed Religious, 54. Brethren without military skills generally remained in Europe.
45
Riley-Smith, The Knights of St. John in Jerusalem, 280-2; Forey, “The Military Orders and the
Conversion,” 15; Riley-Smith, Templars and Hospitallers as Professed Religious, 55; Forey, The Military
Orders, 86.
46
Barber, “Supplying the Crusader States,” 320; Forey, “Constitutional Conflict and Change,” 200; RileySmith, “The Military Orders and the East,” 137.
47
Nicholson, “Myths and Reality,” 96; Riley-Smith, Templars and Hospitallers as Professed Religious, 54.
48
Riley-Smith, The Knights of St. John in Jerusalem, 274, 280-2; Forey, “The Military Orders and the
Conversion,” 15; Riley-Smith, Templars and Hospitallers as Professed Religious, 55; Forey, The Military
Orders, 86, 152; Nicholson, The Knights Hospitaller, 69; Nicholson, The Knights Templar, 113.
105
as its military exploits.49 The master served many functions within the order. He was the
military leader of the orders, leading the brothers in battle, as well as overseeing the daily
running of the convents, along with the bailiffs. He was also the orders’ spiritual leader.
In addition, the master was the person who served as the representative of the order to the
outside world.50 This last function was particularly important to the relationship of the
order with both the Christian rulers of the Latin states as well as surrounding Muslim
powers. The masters of the military orders often worked with the kings of Jerusalem,
advising them on their military policies with Muslims. At least three of the masters of the
Temple are known to have served as royal ministers before joining the order.51 The
masters also played a crucial role in diplomacy between the orders or other Christians,
and the Muslims of the East. It was often the masters who were responsible for
negotiating with Muslims, either on behalf of the order, or for the rulers of the Latin
states.52 The masters, along with certain other officials, provided continuity to the orders,
as they served for long periods of time, and came to be acutely aware of the nature of
politics and social life within the Levant among the various peoples who lived there. This
continuity led to deeper relationships with Muslims, and at times to deeper convergent
accommodation than that found among the short-term crusaders, though military
protection of the crusader states remained important to the orders throughout.
49
Riley-Smith, The Knights of St. John in Jerusalem, 231, 274, 286; Forey, The Military Orders, 152, 158
160; Nicholson, The Knights Hospitaller, 68-9.
50
Nicholson, The Templars, 114; Riley-Smith, The Knights of St. John in Jerusalem, 113.
51
Nicholson, The Templars, 69. These masters were Philip de Milly, Odo de St. Amand and Gerard de
Ridefort.
52
Forey, “Literacy and Learning,” 200; Forey, “The Military Orders and the Conversion,” 12; Nicholson,
The Knights Templar, 79; Burgtorf, “The Military Orders,” 229.
106
By the 1140s, the identity of the Templars and to some degree the Hospitallers centred on
a belief in the sacredness of the Holy Land and the necessity of its protection from
Muslim forces, and they were widely recognized by Christians, and would come to be
recognized by Muslims, as the Holy Land’s most committed and effective defenders.
Their considerable experience, familiarity with the enemy, and ideology made them
especially effective and dedicated fighters. When the brothers fought alongside the
crusader armies, they routinely took on some of the most dangerous roles within the
military operations. During the Third Crusade, when the army was on the march, they
worked as guards, protecting the Latin Christian armies, and serving as the vanguard and
rearguard, where the enemy’s harassment was most intense.53 An anonymous pilgrim
wrote of the brothers of the Temple, “The Templars are most excellent soldiers…They go
in silence. Their first attack is the most terrible. In going they are the first, in returning the
last. They await the orders of their master.” 54 The brothers were committed to the
protection of the people who shared their faith, and the land they considered sacred,
willing to put themselves in harm’s way to defend the Holy Land and its inhabitants. In
this way their commitment to the service of God in the protection the Holy Land and
fellow Christians led to divergent accommodation with the Muslims, making them fierce
opponents, reluctant to back down from a fight.55
53
Forey, “The Emergence of the Military Order,” 184. 186; Hamblin, “Muslim Perspectives,” 103;
Nicholson, The Knights Templar, 60; Nicholson, The Knights Hospitaller, 23; Nicholson, The Chronicle of
the Third Crusade, 75, 240-262; Tyerman, God’s War, 457-460; Riley-Smith, The Knights of St. John of
Jerusalem, 112-13. The members of the military orders were highly trained and disciplined. See “French
Rule (c. 1165),” in The Templars: Selected Sources Translated and Annotated, ed. and trans. Malcolm
Barber and Keith Bate (New York: Manchester University Press, 2002), 67-75, for more on the discipline
and command of Templars in the field.
54
Translated in Aubrey Stewart, trans., “Anonymous Pilgrims, I.-VIII. (11th and 12th Centuries),” in
Palestine Pilgrims’ Text Society, vol. 6 (1894; repr., New York: AMS Press, 1971), 29-30.
55
Riley-Smith, The Knights of St. John in Jerusalem, 75; Nicholson, The Knights Hospitaller, 23; Ibn alAthir, The Chronicle, vol. 2, 324; Giles, Coupland, and Coupland, “Accommodation Theory,” 8-9, 27.
107
The commitment and discipline of the brethren in battle over time came to be recognized
by their Muslim opponents, encouraging divergent accommodation on their part as well
in the form of harsher treatment. In their initial interactions with members of military
orders, Muslims rarely identified them as separate from the crusaders, and up to the
1180s treated them much like other Christians, holding them hostage or ransoming them
when members were taken captive in battle.56 For example, on 18 June 1157 at Safed the
Templar Grand Master, Bertrand of Blancfort, along with 87 other knights, was captured
by Nur al-Din. They were held in captivity until May 1159 when they were ransomed by
Emperor Manuel of Byzantium.57 This treatment appears to be similar to that of any other
hostages. As the Muslims’ knowledge and experience of the orders grew, however, they
came to see that members of the orders were intransigent in their faith and presented a
greater threat than other soldiers.58 The courtier, military theorist and propagandist for
Salah al-Din, al-Harawi (Abu al-Hasan Ali bin Abi Bakr al-Harawi, c. 1145-1215), wrote
of the orders in his book Al-Harawi’s Discussion on the Stratagems of War (written
sometime after 1192), “[The Sultan] should beware of [the Hospitaller and Templar]
monks…for he can not achieve his goals through them; for they have great fervor in
religion, paying no attention to the [things of this] world; he can not prevent them from
interfering in [political] affairs. I have investigated them extensively, and have found
nothing which contradicts this.”59 By the 1180s, due to their military skills and refusal in
56
Hamblin, “Muslim Perspectives,” 101-2; Ibn al-Qalanisi, Damascus Chronicle, 330; William of Tyre, A
History of Deeds Done, vol. 2, 443; Malcolm Barber, The New Knighthood: A History of the Order of the
Temple (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 95.
57
William of Tyre, A History of Deeds Done, vol. 2, 261, 280; Hamblin, “Muslim Perspectives,” 102.
58
Riley-Smith, The Knights of St John in Jerusalem, 76.
59
Translated in Hamblin, “Muslim Perspectives,” 104.
108
many cases to make peace, Muslim leaders, including Salah al-Din were treating the
military orders more harshly than other Christian opponents. 60 This can be seen most
starkly in the treatment of brothers of the Templars and Hospitallers after the battle of
Hattin, 4 July 1187.61 While some of the prisoners were sent off to captivity, Salah al-Din
chose to kill all the brethren he captured.62 The Christian Itinerarium Peregrinorum
stated that this was done because Salah al-Din “knew that they surpassed all others in
battle.”63 The Muslim chronicler Ibn al-Athir stated that Salah al-Din “singled these out
for execution because they were the fiercest fighters of all the Franks.” 64 The brothers’
ferocity led Salah al-Din to further separate himself from these Christians, in a form of
divergent accommodation, treating them with more animosity and violence than he did
regular Christian soldiers.
The consequences of military encounters between the military orders and Muslims were
not always divergent in nature. The military identity of the orders, particularly the
Templars, led them to oppose Muslims ferociously. However, the fact that the orders they
served were permanent institutions in the Holy Land, with a few members, such as the
masters, also being permanently situated in the East, and their extensive knowledge of
60
Hamblin, “Muslim Perspectives,” 103.
For primary accounts of this famous battle see Edbury, The Conquest of Jerusalem, 36-48; Nicholson,
The Chronicle of the Third Crusade, 31-35; Baha’ al-Din, The Rare and Excellent History of Saladin, 7275; Ibn al-Athir, The Chronicle, vol. 2, 320-24.
62
Riley-Smith, The Knights Hospitaller, 75; `Imad al-Din, “Saladin’s Treatment of the Templars and
Hospitallers, Beheading Them and Causing General Rejoicing at Their Extermination,” in Arab Historians
of the Crusades, ed. Francesco Gabrieli (New York: Dorset Press, 1969), 138; Roger de Hoveden, The
Annals, vol. 2, 65-6; Terricus, Grand Precepto of the Temple, “Terricus, “Grand Preceptor of the Temple,
to all preceptors and brethren of the Temple in the West (between 10 July and 6 August, 1187),” in Letters
from the East: Crusaders, Pilgrims and Settlers in the 12th-13th centuries, ed. Malcolm Barber and Keith
Bate (Farnham: Ashgate Publishing Limited, 2010), 78.
63
Translated in Nicholson, The Chronicle of the Third Crusade, 34. “In bello cæteris noverat prævalere.”
Stubbs, Itinerarium Peregrinorum, 16.
64
Translated in Ibn al-Athir, The Chronicle, vol. 2, 324.
61
109
political and military conditions at times encouraged a willingness to engage in
diplomacy and negotiation with Muslims, and meant that their leaders were often the
ones chosen to act as negotiators for crusading armies.65 The crusader leader Richard I of
England depended on the brothers of the military orders throughout the Third Crusade,
relying on them to negotiate treaties with various Muslims. During the siege of Acre the
commander of the Hospitallers conducted peace talks with Salah al-Din. Salah al-Din
also looked to the Templars to aid in negotiations.66 While they were members of
religious orders, deeply committed to their faith, the brothers also recognized the
precarious nature of the Latin states meant they could not live in perpetual combat. 67
While this often brought them criticism from less informed sources in the West, the
members of the orders realized that commitment to their vows to protect the crusader
states needed to include elements of diplomacy. 68 This unwillingness to make rash
military decisions brought the members of the order into frequent extensive diplomatic
contact with Muslim rulers and diplomats, and extended the convergent accommodation
between the two.
The military force of the orders appears to have always been quite small, a factor that
greatly influenced the attitudes the brethren held towards surrounding Muslims and the
way they interacted with them. Estimates as to the size of the orders vary, but there seem
to have been around 300 knights in each of the Templars and Hospitallers in the kingdom
65
For example see Roger de Hoveden, The Annals of Roger de Hoveden, vol. 2, part 1, 214, 269; Roger of
Wendover, Flowers of History, vol. 2, 122.
66
Baha’ al-Din, The Rare and Excellent History of Saladin, 159; Ibn al-Athir, The Chronicle, vol. 2, 389;
Roger de Hoveden, The Annals, vol. 2, 214.
67
Nicholson, The Knights Templar, 113; Riley-Smith, The Knights of St. John in Jerusalem, 274; Forey,
The Military Orders, 214-15; Helen Nicholson, Love, War and the Grail (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 83-4.
68
Nicholson, Love, War and the Grail, 83-4; Forey, The Military Orders, 209, 213-14.
110
of Jerusalem, with perhaps the same amount again in Antioch and Tripoli combined. In
addition, sergeants, Turcopoles and mercenaries may have created an army three times
larger.69 Still, this was a relatively small force. At the peak of the Hospitallers’
militarization under the mastership of Gilbert d’Assailly (1162-70), the order was able to
send 500 knights and 500 sergeants with the crusader army to invade Egypt. 70 At the peak
of the Templars before the battle of Hattin, Malcolm Barber suggests numbers as high as
600 knights with 2,000 sergeants and 50 priests.71 With such small numbers, despite the
members’ commitment to the protection of Christian land and peoples, the members were
quick to realize that continuous warfare was impractical, and often counterproductive. In
addition, as will be discussed in Chapter Four, the settlers and soldiers of the crusader
states themselves were always a minority compared to the non-Latin Christian
inhabitants. Once crusaders returned back to Europe the brothers did not always have the
manpower necessary to protect and maintain any conquests the short term crusaders had
made, and the masters and commanders often decided that some degree of
accommodation that led to peace was in the best interests of the crusader states, rather
than unceasing warfare, which could threaten the size and strength of the armies.72
Diplomacy became a form of limited convergent accommodation for the members of the
military orders and Muslims in the East. Both orders developed relationships with many
69
Menache, “The Military Orders in the Crusader Kingdom,” 139; Dajani-Shakeel, “Natives and Franks,”
174; Barber and Bate, introduction to The Templars: Selected Sources, 12; Nicholson, The Knights
Hospitaller, 13; Nicholson, The Knights Templar, 54; Nicholson, Templars, Hospitallers and Teutonic
Knights, 4.
70
King, introduction to The Rule Statutes and Customs, 4; Riley-Smith, The Knights of St. John in
Jerusalem, 61; Barber, “The Charitable and Medical Activities,” 158; Nicholson, The Knights Templar, 54.
71
Barber, “Supplying the Crusader States,” 318.
72
Nicholson, Templars, Hospitallers and Teutonic Knights, 131; Riley-Smith, Templars and Hospitallers
as Professed Religious, 5.
111
of the surrounding Muslim powers and they used their influence with these rulers to help
rulers of the Latin states and crusader leaders to negotiate with their enemies. 73 While
Christian leaders on the whole did not extensively cultivate these relationships, they
relied on the connections between the military orders and Muslims to aid in the protection
of the crusader states. In 1142/4 Raymond II of Tripoli agreed to make no truces with the
Muslims “without the advice and approval of the brothers of the house [Hospitallers],” 74
while Bohemond III of Antioch (1163-1201) made a similar agreement with the
Hospitallers, who were given freedom either to fight Muslims or make treaties with them
with his support. He also agreed not to make truces with Muslims without the advice and
consent of the order.75 The masters and other leaders of the orders viewed part of their
role in protecting the crusader states as cultivating diplomatic ties with Muslims.
The leaders of the orders often helped other Christians in their negotiations with
Muslims, but they also negotiated when most other Christians wanted to fight,
particularly when they felt military actions could threaten the Latin states. They showed
more awareness of the realities of the East and displayed more willingness to admit that
there were costs that could not be overcome. This can be seen in 1192 at Jerusalem when
the crusaders were keen to try to wrest Jerusalem back from Salah al-Din’s control, for
they had taken vows to do so. When the military orders and nobles from the Levant
opposed the idea, a council of five Templars, five Hospitallers, five native Syrians and
five French chiefs were appointed. The council advised Richard not to undertake a siege
73
Nicholson, The Knights Templar, 79; Forey, “Literacy and Learning,” 200; Giles, Coupland, and
Coupland, “Accommodation Theory,” 11.
74
“Absque consilio et assensu fratrum ejusdem domus.” Forey, “The Militarisation of the Hospital,” 77, 81;
Nicholson, The Knights Hospitaller, 21; Forey, The Military Orders, 51-2.
75
Riley-Smith, The Knights of St. John in Jerusalem, 66; Forey, The Military Orders, 51-2.
112
for, though Jerusalem was sacred, it could not be held even if it was taken.76 The
Templars also refused to join King Amalric in his invasions of Egypt in the 1160s
because it would violate treaty agreements they had with the Egyptians. 77 While the
orders were dedicated to the protection of the Holy Land and the possession of Jerusalem,
there were limits to their abilities and they were not opposed to backing away from a
fight when necessary, something the crusaders, who did not have to deal with the long
term consequences of such actions, were far less keen to do.
As in the case of crusaders, extended diplomatic negotiations could lead to personal ties
between Muslims and members of the military orders, and special personal
accommodations.78 Usamah ibn Munqidh relates that when he was praying in a chapel
reserved for Muslims in the al-Aqsa mosque (the Temple of Solomon), where the
Templars had their residence, a crusader who had recently arrived from the West and had
never seen a Muslim praying towards Mecca, tried to reposition him to point towards the
east. The Templars, who knew Usamah well through diplomatic interactions, removed
the crusader, allowing Usamah to complete his prayers. 79 In this case, the Templars
actively defended Usamah against a Christian, showing that relationships developed
between members of the military orders and nobles like Usamah that at times transcended
their religious beliefs. However, this accommodation was limited and did not necessarily
run deep. On another occasion, Templars attempted to kill Usamah when he was
76
Riley-Smith, The Knights of St John in Jerusalem, 112-13; Nicholson, The Knights Templar, 71;
Nicholson, The Chronicle of the Third Crusade, 283, 335-7; Nicholson, The Chronicle of the Third
Crusade, 280, 283-4.
77
Forey, The Military Orders, 1163; William of Tyre, A History of Deeds Done, vol. 2, 350.
78
Forey, “The Military Orders and the Conversion,” 11-12; Gallois and Callan, “Interethnic
Accommodation,” 250.
79
Usama Ibn Munqidh, The Book of Contemplation, 147: Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives,
378.
113
travelling with Rukn al-Din `Abbas and his son Nasr al-Din in 1154.80 The members of
the orders were most likely to accommodate those Muslims with whom they had
developed personal ties when it did not interfere with their larger objectives.
Another of the ways brethren in the orders used their diplomatic connections with
Muslims, adapting to the conventions of the Levant, was through the practice of
ransoming. This brought them into both divergent and convergent accommodation with
the Muslims of the Levant. Within the orders themselves, the response to ransoming was
generally divergent, and large payments to affect the ransom of their own brethren were
not encouraged; rather they attempted to negotiate their release and safe conduct without
payment.81 While the brothers did not want their members to remain in captivity, the
finances needed to secure their release were more critical to the running of their mission
than the brothers themselves.82 In 1179 the Templar master Odo of St. Amand was
captured by Salah al-Din. Robert of Torigny reports that Odo refused an offer by Salah
al-Din to be released for it was the practice of the Templars to ransom themselves only in
exchange for their sword-belt and knife. Because of this he died in captivity. 83 Other
sources suggest that Odo died in battle rather than in captivity, and so it is unknown how
accurate the rest of Robert’s account is, but there are other sources that also suggest it
was not the orders’ policy to ransom their brethren for large sums of money. In the few
cases where the specific details of a payment for ransom are known, most do not involve
80
Usama ibn Munqidh, The Book of Contemplation, 36-7; Nicholson, The Knights Templar, 79.
Forey, “The Military Orders and the Ransoming of Captives,” 260.
82
Forey, “The Military Orders and the Ransoming of Captives,” 265.
83
Forey, “The Military Orders and the Ransoming of Captives,” 263-4; Hamblin, “Muslim Perspectives,”
102-3.
81
114
large sums.84 The orders were hesitant to accept the ransoming traditions that had been
developed in the Levant for the protection of their own members.
The members of the orders generally refused to pay large sums to ransom themselves, but
they were willing to accommodate with Muslims and use their diplomatic connections to
assist royalty and nobility, who did not share such relationships with Muslims, to secure
their own ransoms or those of family members.85 In 1174 Raymond III of Tripoli was in
captivity and it was the Hospitallers who negotiated with Muslims to free him. William
of Tyre writes that Raymond declared that the Hospitallers, “used all their efforts and
faithful endeavours to secure my freedom with the aid of divine mercy,” freeing him after
eight years in confinement.86 The commander of the Hospital also assisted in the
negotiations between Salah al-Din and the Christian army in Jerusalem in 1187 when the
sultan captured the city. The commander helped to negotiate the rate of ransom, and also
put forward some money for the release of captives, though many suggested the order did
not contribute enough.87 The leaders of the orders committed themselves to the survival
of the crusaders states and their inhabitants, allowing a certain amount of convergence
with Muslims to do so. They were willing to use their contacts and knowledge of the
Levant to bring fellow Christians from the chains of captivity.
84
Forey, “The Military Orders and the Ransoming of Captives,” 264.
Nicholson, The Knights Templar, 72.
86
Translated in William of Tyre, A History of Deeds Done, vol. 2, 390; Forey, “The Military Orders and
the Ransoming of Captives,” 276; Riley-Smith, The Knights of St. John in Jerusalem, 66
87
Riley-Smith, The Knights of St John in Jerusalem, 108; Forey, “The Military Orders and the Ransoming
of Captives,” 274; Edbury, The Conquest of Jerusalem, 59-61; Nicholson, The Chronicle of the Third
Crusade, 38-9.
85
115
An important factor in convergent accommodation between Muslims and the military
orders was the regular contact between Muslims and members of the military orders
through their daily interactions.88 While regular monastic orders, ideally at least,
generally followed a policy of enclosure, living their religious lives away from the world,
members of the military orders viewed their membership in orders as a way to live a
religious life that did not completely separate them from the secular world. Tom Licence
suggests that the orders viewed their role as following principles of asceticism and
charity, rather than asceticism and withdrawal from the world.89 The members of the
orders, particularly the leaders, interacted with those outside the order for business, to
deal with property, to assist rulers and other authorities, all of which activities brought
them into frequent contact with Muslims. At times this led to fierce hostility, while at
others this led to limited convergent accommodation.
The economic realities of life in the East encouraged contact and some forms of
convergent accommodation. One of the ways the orders came into limited contact with
Muslims was through the estates the orders owned, which were worked largely by
Syrians, either Muslim prisoners of war who were slaves, or by local peasants, some of
whom were Muslim.90 These lands were necessary for the support and running of the
orders, providing food and other necessities.91 Thus both groups experienced spatial
convergence. The orders also accommodated with local customs to a considerable degree,
acting as landlords, while leaving the day to day running of the lands to a dragoman or
88
Giles, Coupland, and Coupland, “Accommodation Theory,” 19.
Licence, “The Military Orders as Monastic Orders,” 40, 52-3.
90
Riley-Smith, The Knights of St. John in Jerusalem, 426; Nicholson, The Knights Hospitaller, 85.
91
Nicholson, The Knights Hospitaller, 98.
89
116
ra’is, local headmen.92 In return the orders were given a portion of the crops and
produce.93
While the members of the order experienced generally peaceful spatial convergence with
agricultural workers on their estates, they rarely experienced religious convergence, being
willing, and often preferring, to allow the faith of their workers to remain unchanged. In
the case of slaves, religious convergence was actively discouraged, in large part because
their work was so necessary to the economic survival of the orders.94 Slaves were taken
through raids or captured as prisoners of war, and served the brethren in a variety of
capacities, such as household servants, agricultural labourers, shoemakers, carpenters,
smiths, or other craftsmen. Such tasks sometimes placed slaves in close physical
proximity to members of the orders. Slaves who served for a long time within the orders
could rise to positions with considerable responsibility, though the potential threat they
posed during a siege was never forgotten, and there was never complete trust or
acceptance into the group of the orders.95 Religious convention dictated that if a slave
converted to Christianity they were to be set free, essentially joining the group identity of
those who had previously been positioned over them. Thus conversions meant that the
orders would lose the manpower and skills provided by slaves and the resultant labour
92
Riley-Smith, The Knights of St. John in Jerusalem, 426. For more information on dragomans and ra’is,
see Chapter Four.
93
Riley-Smith, The Knights of St. John in Jerusalem, 426.
94
Forey, “The Military Orders and the Conversion,” 1; Giles, Coupland, and Coupland, “Accommodation
Theory,” 11-12.
95
Nicholson, The Knights Hospitaller, 85; Raymond du Puy, “The Rule,” 22; Bar-Tal, Group Beliefs, 76;
Giles, Coupland, and Coupland, “Accommodation Theory,” 11-12. For more information on the castles and
fortresses given to the orders see Nicholson, The Knights Hospitaller, 11, 13; Nicholson, Templars,
Hospitallers and Teutonic Knights, 2; Nicholson, The Knights Templar, 54-5; John of Wurzburg,
“Description of the Holy Land,” 44; Theoderich “Description of the Holy Places,” 22, 32, 60, 63; Forey,
“The Military Orders and the Ransoming of Captives,” 275; “Grant of the castle of Ahamant by King
Amalric of Jerusalem (17 January 1166),” in The Templars: Selected Sources Translated and Annotated,
ed. and trans. Malcolm Barber and Keith Bate (New York: Manchester University Press, 2002), 77.
117
and monetary gain. In light of the fact that the military orders in the Levant were always
short on manpower, they were eager to hold onto their slaves and were reluctant to
promote conversion.96 In fact, members of the military orders often actively discouraged
conversion, preferring to remain in a position of power, identified through their separate
religious convictions. The loss of manpower to the orders outweighed any perceived
benefits of creating new Christians (even if the slaves did experience a legitimate
conversion).97 Similarly, the orders also showed a distinct reluctance to exchange Muslim
slaves to ransom Christian captives, an activity that was otherwise considered to be
spiritually meritorious.98 Such cases illustrate the conflict that occurred between the
identity of the brethren as members of the military orders and their identity as members
of Christendom.
The reluctance of the orders to encourage conversion among Muslims in favour of
economic concerns was not limited strictly to their slaves. It could also affect decisions
regarding noble hostages as well. In 1154 a group of Templars captured Nasr, the son of
Abbas, Egypt’s vizier. William of Tyre narrates that the Templars kept him captive for a
lengthy period, and during that time Nasr expressed an interest in learning of Christianity
and being baptized. The brothers appear to have complied with his request until they were
offered 60,000 gold pieces by the Egyptians for his ransom. While they do not seem to
96
Forey, “The Military Orders and the Conversion of Muslims,” 5.
Forey, “The Military Orders and the Ransoming of Captives,” 275; Nicholson, The Knights Hospitaller,
85; Forey, “The Military Orders and the Conversion of Muslims,” 7-8.
98
“I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came
to visit me.” Matt. 25:36 (NIV). Friedman, “Women in Captivity,” 76; Forey, “The Military Orders and the
Ransoming of Captives,” 275.
97
118
have opposed his conversion, winning a convert for Christ was ultimately less important
than their own financial gain.99
The lack of interest of the orders in converting Muslims, while closing one form of
accommodation, potentially opened a path to the sharing of sacred spaces, a significant
form of convergent accommodation that resulted to some degree from the orders’
familiarity with the ‘other’ through frequent contact. The orders with their extensive
knowledge of Muslims and Muslim customs, recognized that their own sacred spaces
sometimes overlapped with those of Muslims and sometimes were willing to share them
with Muslims. This spatial convergence, which, as noted by Benjamin Kedar, rarely
involved a convergence of religious ideas, can be seen in the Templars allowing Muslim
nobility to worship in what the Christians considered to be some of Jerusalem’s most
holy sites, and even, on occasion, their defence of the rights of Muslims to worship as
they chose, as in the case of Usamah ibn Munqidh told above. Usamah commented that
whenever he would come to Jerusalem he would pay a visit to the holy sites, including
the al-Aqsa mosque (the Temple of Solomon) where the Templars had their residence.
The Templars provided a small chapel where Muslims could come to pray. 100 Such
toleration was possible because conversion was so seldom a goal of crusading efforts.
Such spatial accommodation was not limited to Christians. The brothers of the Temple
liked to worship at the shrine of Our Lady of Saydnaya, a Greek convent 25 km northeast
of Damascus during periods of truce with Muslims, celebrating festivals and bringing
99
William of Tyre, A History of Deeds Done, vol. 2, 252-3; Usama Ibn Munqidh, The Book of
Contemplation, 36; Forey, “The Military Orders and the Conversion of Muslims,” 10-11; Nicholson, The
Knights Templar, 63. For a similar example, see William of Tyre, A History of Deeds Done, vol. 2, 392.
100
Kedar, “Convergences,” 89-91; Usama ibn Munqidh, The Book of Contemplation, 147; Hillenbrand, The
Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 378.
119
back oil for pilgrims.101 At the convent, there was an icon of the Virgin Mary from which
a curative oil flowed that was believed to heal peoples’ ailments.102 There Christians and
Muslims gathered in mid-August and in September to celebrate the Feast of the Virgin, as
both faiths shared a belief in the spiritual character of Mary. 103 This spatial convergence
allowed for members of both faiths to come and gather together in places they both held
to be sacred.
While the military mandate of the orders tended to encourage divergence from the
Muslims, the Hospitallers never abandoned their original identity as carers for the poor
and sick in Jerusalem, regardless of the patient’s religion, ethnicity, gender, or any other
factor. This meant that Muslims were cared for in the Hospital. Moreover, the brothers of
the Hospital also hired Muslim physicians, along with Christian ones.104 This provided
another forum for contact with Muslims, and one that proved fruitful for the sharing of
ideas and practices. Muslims possessed more extensive knowledge of medicine and
treatment, and from them the Hospitallers came to adopt some of these practices. This
intellectual convergence was a factor that was often missing from other spheres of contact
between groups in the Levant.
101
The shrine was brought to the attention of the Frankish world by the Templar Walter of Marengiers, who
visited the shrine on his way home after being released from Muslim captivity upon the truce between
Salah al-Din and Raymond of Tripoli in 1185. Roger of Wendover, the chronicler of St. Albans, records,
“the brethren of the Temple take [the oil of Saidnaya] back to their houses [in the Latin East] when they
have truces with the infidel, so that they may give [phials] to pilgrims who come to pray there, who may
take them back reverently into different parts of the world in honour of the Mother of God.” Quoted in
Bernard Hamilton, “Our Lady of Saidnaiya: An Orthodox Shrine Revered by Muslims and Knights
Templar at the Time of the Crusades,” in The Holy Land, Holy Lands, and Christian History, ed. R.N.
Swanson (Woodbridge, Suffolk; The Boydell Press, 2000), 211. Kedar, “Convergences,” 92, 94-5.
102
Hamilton, “Our Lady of Saidnaiya,” 207; Kedar, “Convergences,” 92.
103
Kedar, “Convergences,” 94-5.
104
Riley-Smith, Templars and Hospitallers as Professed Religious, 19; Edgington, “Medical Care in the
Hospital of St John,” 27-8. In the statutes of Roger des Moulins, an alternative oath was provided for
doctors who were not Christians Doctors either had to swear by the saints or vow to do everything they
could for a patient without expectation of payment.
120
The transfer of intellectual knowledge was in part possible because both Muslims and
Christians at their root shared the same basic conception of illness, though the Muslims
possessed a greater knowledge of treatments and cures. This shared understanding
allowed for a certain amount of transfer of knowledge. The Franks and Muslims both
found the roots of their medical traditions in Greek learning. This shared classical view of
the human body and health stated that the body was comprised of four different humours
(blood, yellow bile, black bile and phlegm). When a person became ill it was because
these humours had become out of balance and balance needed to be restored to bring the
person back to health.105 This balance was achieved through lifestyle changes such as diet
or exercise, through treatment with drugs supplied by an apothecary or through surgical
means, such as phlebotomy (bloodletting).106
Muslim study of Greek medicine was more advanced than that of Western European
Christians in the twelfth century. The Muslim caliphate was established within the
Hellenistic world during the seventh century and adopted its conception and knowledge
of medicine and disease. By the eighth century translation of Greek medical texts into
Arabic was well under way and soon Muslims were writing their own advanced texts.107
105
Edgington, “Oriental and Occidental Medicine,” 190; Christopher Toll, “Arabic Medicine and Hospitals
in the Middle Ages: a Probable Model for the Military Orders’ Care of the Sick,” in The Military Orders
Volume 2: Welfare and Warfare, ed. Helen Nicholson (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1998), 37; Mitchell, Medicine
in the Crusades, 187-8.
106
Edgington, “Oriental and Occidental Medicine,” 190; Mitchell, Medicine in the Crusades, 193, 197; For
examples see R. P. Buckley, trans, The Book of the Islamic Market Inspector, Nihāyat al-Rutba fī Talab alHisba (The Utmost Authority in the Pursuit of Hisba) by `Abd al-Rahmān . Nasr al-Shayzarī (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 1999), 108-113; “The Customs (Usances),” in The Rule, Statutes and Customs of
the Hospitallers, 1099-1310, ed. Colonel E. J. King (New York: AMS Press, 1980), 181.
107
Toll, “Arabic Medicine,” 36-7; Edgington, “Oriental and Occidental Medicine,” 191. The caliph alMa’mun (813-33) founded an academy in Baghdad where Greek texts were translated into Arabic.
121
The extensive medical knowledge that flourished in the Muslim world was slower to
revive in Catholic Europe. In the eleventh century, and especially the twelfth century,
Greek and Arabic medical texts were discovered and translated into Latin, especially in
areas such as Spain and Italy where there was extensive contact with Muslims. 108
Therefore, intellectuals in the twelfth century would have been well aware of the
superiority of Muslims in this field.109 In the Latin East the crusaders inherited important
centres of translation where a wide variety of manuscripts were translated from Arabic
into Latin, among them medical texts. Among the most significant of these were Antioch,
Tripoli and Acre, important cities in the crusader states.110 These translation centres
continued a process of reintroduction of Greek and Arabic medical knowledge, opening
the Christians of the East to a willingness to engage in convergent accommodation with
Muslim scholars and medical practitioners who could extend their knowledge.
When brothers from the Hospital first arrived in the Levant, their conception of the
purpose of medical intervention, and how they undertook medical practice, differed from
the Muslims in the East, though they shared the same basic conception of the root causes
of illness. Over time the theory and practice of the Hospitallers converged with that of the
Muslims, suggesting direct contact with doctors of different faiths and a growth of
108
Among the significant texts were Ibn Sina’s Canon and Hunyan’s Isagoge. Woodings, “The Medical
Resources and Practice,” 268; Mitchell, Medicine in the Crusades, 206-7; Edgington, “Oriental and
Occidental Medicine,” 190-1.
109
Mitchell, Medicine in the Crusades, 140; Toll, “Arabic Medicine,” 37; Edgington, “Oriental and
Occidental Medicine,” 191.
110
Mitchell, Medicine in the Crusades, 207-8; Edgington, “Oriental and Occidental Medicine,” 197.
Among the significant works that were translated at these centres were al-Majusi’s kitab kamil as-sina `a
at-tibbiya (The Complete Book of the Medical Art), which included portions of works which had been
poorly translated by Constantinus Africanus in the eleventh century; The Hundred Books on the Medical
Art, by Eastern Christian physician Ab_Sahl al-Mas_h, who was likely Ibn Sina’s teacher; and medical
texts from Dioscorides. Two early translators of significance in the Latin East were the Englishman
Adelard of Bath (born c. 1080) who arrived in Antioch around 1114 and Stephen of Pisa who worked in
Antioch between 1126 and 1130.
122
Hospitaller medical practices, based on classical and Arabic knowledge. When the
doctors of the Hospital first arrived in the East, they mostly cared for the sick through
good food, a careful diet, and spiritual care, for their primary purpose was not to cure
their patients, but to provide physical and spiritual comfort during their illness. The term
hospitale referred not just to facilities that provided medical treatment, but also to alms
houses or residential houses, often run by the secular clergy, which provided food and
resting places for the poor and weary. 111 This focus on care was brought to the Holy Land
by the military orders, and the early work of the brothers of the Hospital focused on
caring for, rather than curing, patients. In part this was because many of their patients
were poor and weary pilgrims who merely needed nutritious food and sleep to restore
them to health. Other sick pilgrims also came to Jerusalem not to be cured, but to die in a
holy place.112
Arabic medicine at the time of the crusades was more advanced, for it focused on
providing medical cures for illness, not simply providing care.113 Arabic hospitals took a
more specialized approach to medicine, separating patients from one another by the
disorder from which they suffered, as well as by gender. Specialized wards could include
“medicinal, surgical, ophthalmological, psychiatric, orthopaedic, dysentery and fever
cases and a ward for convalescents.”114 When the Jewish merchant traveller Benjamin of
Tudela was in Baghdad, he visited a hospital and was greatly impressed by the facility he
111
Mitchell, Medicine in the Crusades, 46, 53; Toll, “Arabic Medicine,” 39.
Raymond du Puy, “The Rule,” 21-22, John of Wurzburg, Description of the Holy Land, 44; Benjamin of
Tudela, The Itinerary, 83; Theoderich “Description of the Holy Places,” 22; Edgington, “Medical Care in
the Hospital of St. John,” 32-3; Toll, “Arabic Medicine,” 38-9; Woodings, “The Medical Resources and
Practice,” 274.
113
Toll, “Arabic Medicine,” 38, 40.
114
Toll, “Arabic Medicine,” 40; Mitchell, Medicine in the Crusades, 51.
112
123
found there. On the banks of the river there was, “a hospital consisting of blocks of
houses and hospices for the sick poor who come to be healed. Here there are about sixty
physicians’ stores which are provided from the Caliph’s house with drugs and whatever
else may be required. Every sick man who comes is maintained at the Caliph’s expense
and is medically treated.”115 Curing ill patients was the focus of these hospitals. Unlike
Christian institutions in the Holy Land, Arabic hospitals were secular institutions. 116
Rulers provided funding to establish hospitals as well as other civic institutions. Nur alDin established the Nur hospital in Damascus in 1174 while Salah al-Din was responsible
for the establishment of the Nasiri hospital in Cairo.117 Ibn Jubayr also records the sultan
providing funds to run a hospital in Alexandria for the care of strangers who were ill. 118
The establishment of such hospitals was often motivated by the spiritual merit that would
be accrued by the founder.119
Over time the brothers who ran the Hospital in Jerusalem began to expand from
providing care for the ill to a more Islamic focus of actually attempting to provide cures
for the sick, engaging in convergent intellectual accommodation with Muslim medical
professionals.120 In the first Rule of the Hospitallers (date unknown, but before 1145),
instituted by the master Raymond du Puy, the brethren were instructed to give patients
the Holy Sacrament (communion) after they had confessed their sins to a priest, a bed in
115
Translated in Benjamin of Tudela, The Itinerary, 98.
Mitchell, Medicine in the Crusades, 104; Toll, “Arabic Medicine,” 39.
117
Mitchell, Medicine in the Crusades, 51; Ibn Jubayr, The Travels of Ibn Jubayr, 296; Indrikis Sterns,
“Some Aspects of Muslim and Christian Medicine in the Crusader States,” in Proceedings of the PMR
Conference, 7, ed. Joseph C. Schaubelt and Joseph Rieno (Villanova: Villanova University, 1985), 98.
118
Ibn Jubayr, The Travels of Ibn Jubayr, 33.
119
Sterns, “Some Aspects,” 98.
120
Mitchell, Medicine in the Crusades, 106; Woodings, “The Medical Resources and Practice,” 273-4;
Giles, Coupland, and Coupland, “Accommodation Theory,” 6-7, 27.
116
124
which to rest and food to restore them.121 In later years the brethren never lost their focus
on the care and support of pilgrims and travellers, as witnessed by the travellers
Theoderich and John of Wurzburg, but by the institution of the 1182 statutes of Roger des
Moulins the provisions for the ill had taken on a more curative approach, coming closer
to the practice of Arabic medicine.122 These later statutes made provisions for hiring
doctors and other medical practitioners to provide medical treatments for patients. The
statutes instructed the Hospitallers to hire for those who were sick four doctors, “who are
qualified to examine urine, and to diagnose different disease, and are able to administer
appropriate medicines.”123 The Hospital by this period had eleven wards with 143
attendants to assist the doctors, working out to around six or seven patients per
attendant.124 Salah al-Din was greatly impressed by the facility he found in 1187 upon
his conquest of Jerusalem, and allowed it to remain open.125 The instructions in the
statutes and the increased number of medical practitioners make it clear the brethren of
the Hospital were accommodating towards the medical practices they found among
Muslims in the Levant.
The convergence of the intellectual culture of medicine and the adoption of Arabic
medical customs was perhaps facilitated by the acceptance of Muslim patients and the
121
Raymond du Puy, “The Rule,” 26-7; Woodings, “The Medical Resources and Practice,” 273-4.
Woodings, “The Medical Resources and Practice,” 274; Theoderich, “Description of the Holy Places,”
22; John of Wurzburg, “Description of the Holy Land,” 44; Kedar, “A Twelfth-Century Description,” 8.
John of Wurzburg records the Hospital accommodating 2000 patients, double the number suggested by
Theoderich. John would have seen the hospital in a period of emergency.
123
Translated in Roger des Moulins, “Statutes,” 35; Kedar, “A Twelfth-Century Description,” 12.
124
Kedar, “A Twelfth-Century Description,” 8; Mitchell, Medicine in the Crusades, 61.
125
Edgington, “Oriental and Occidental Medicine,” 206; Woodings, “The Medical Resources and
Practice,” 276; Terricus, former Grand Preceptor, “Terricus, former Grand Preceptor of the Temple at
Jerusalem, to Henry II, King of England (January, 1188),” in Letters from the East: Crusaders, Pilgrims
and Settlers in the 12th-13th Centuries, ed. Malcolm Barber and Keith Bate (Farnham: Ashgate Publishing
Limited, 2010), 84.
122
125
employment of Muslim doctors within the Hospital, providing direct and intimate contact
between the brothers of the Hospital and members of the Muslim faith. The Hospital
accepted all patients, except lepers, regardless of their social standing, faith, or gender.
An anonymous cleric in the 1180s, said the Hospital accepted all who came, “as this holy
house rightly understands that the Lord invites all to salvation, wishing no one to perish,
also men of pagan creed find in it mercy, and also Jews, if they flock to it.” 126 Repeatedly
in the rules and statutes of the order, including those of both Raymond du Puy and Roger
des Moulins, the order is directed to care for any and all who require their aid “as if they
were lords” or “for our lords the poor.”127 The Hospital also hired Muslim and other nonLatin Christian physicians, respecting the skills of those doctors, and willing to
incorporate their knowledge and skills into the running of the Hospital. In an Old French
version of the statutes of Roger des Moulins, two oaths are given by doctors employed by
the Hospital. The first one focuses on the treatment of patients. All doctors, “should
earnestly study the qualities of the sick and of their illnesses, inspect their urine and give
syrups, electuaries and other things necessary to the sick, forbidding contrary things and
giving profitable ones.”128 In addition to this first oath, a second oath was sworn by
doctors caring specifically for the critically ill. This oath, significantly, had two
variations. Christian doctors were to swear by the saints, while all doctors of other faiths
were to swear to care for their patients to the best of their abilities without expecting any
sort of recompense.129 The brothers of the Hospital demonstrated a trust in the abilities of
non-Christian doctors and were willing to allow doctors of other faiths treat their patients
126
Translated in Kedar, “A Twelfth-Century Description,” 4, 6-7. For the full Latin text of the treatise see
p. 13-26.
127
Translated in Raymond du Puy, “The Rule,” 26; Roger des Moulins, “Statutes,” 30, 37.
128
Translated in Edgington, “Medical Care in the Hospital,” 27.
129
Edgington, “Medical Care in the Hospital,” 27-8.
126
and help them carry out their calling to aid the ill. In doing so, they gained new skills and
perspectives on medicine and medical care, and engaged in an intellectual
accommodation not seen in many other aspects of life in the crusader states. They also
were open to treating the sick and weary of all faiths, opening a new door of contact as
well, prioritizing in their religious identity the care of all peoples, rather than the enmity
that could be fostered through their military exploits. The brothers of the Hospital were
not the only Franks to practice medicine in the Levant, and the contact and
accommodation between other medical practitioners and Muslims will be discussed in
Chapter Four.
The brethren of the military orders merged concepts of asceticism and charity that
manifested themselves for both the Templars and the Hospitallers as military protection
of crusaders, pilgrims and settlers in the Holy Land against Muslims, but also, especially
for the Hospitallers, physical care for the poor and needy. These two different facets of
the identity of the orders were expressed in both divergent and convergent
accommodation with Muslims in the Levant. The military orders were committed to
living an active religious life, and active warfare against the enemies of Christendom
played a significant part in that. This led to divergent accommodation, as the brethren of
the orders became some of the fiercest opponents of the Muslims, and in response the
Muslims came to fear the orders more than regular crusaders, and treat them more
harshly. However, members of the order possessed more extensive knowledge of the
political and military situation in the East as members spent longer in the Levant than
crusaders. This bred in them a greater awareness of the precarious hold of the Franks on
127
the crusader states, and the limited manpower they possessed to defend them. This led the
orders into convergent accommodation with Muslims through extensive diplomacy, as
well as assisting crusaders in negotiations with Muslims. The orders knew this was often
preferable to direct combat which could threaten the crusader states. Their diplomatic
contacts also brought them into personal contact with Muslims, and sometimes led to
personal convergence, such as between Usamah and the Templars. The economic realities
of the East also brought the military orders to another form of limited convergent
accommodation. As the military orders were permanent organizations in the East they
owned estates that served to support the work of the order, and these were often worked
by Muslim peasants and slaves. Through these estates the military orders came into
spatial convergence with Muslims, but rarely into religious convergence, for they actively
discouraged conversion of their subjects, not wanting to lose their labour, as convention
dictated that converts be freed. Where the members of the military orders came into the
greatest convergence with Muslims was through the adoption of the medical knowledge
of the Muslims. The Hospitallers accepted Muslim patients and employed Muslim
doctors. Through these contacts they received more advanced medical knowledge that
Muslims possessed.
128
CHAPTER FOUR: THE PERMANENT SETTLERS
The Europeans who settled in the Levant in the wake of the First Crusade shared the
same religious, political, military, and cultural beliefs as those crusaders who returned to
Europe. However, over time, the settlers who remained in the Levant formed their own
distinct Frankish identity. 1 The new settlers were separated from their European homes
by great distance, and lived among peoples with whom they did not share languages or
cultural practices. While most chose to settle in lands traditionally populated by native
Christians, not Muslims, native Christians practiced a different form of Christianity than
Catholic Europeans did, so they were separated from their neighbours by religion as
well.2 This society was not simply an amalgamation of the various European cultures of
the immigrants, but a new group with a unique group identity that was influenced both by
the group identities members brought with them, and also by the life and culture they
found in the Levant.3 Group beliefs do not remain static, but change over time as a result
of external conditions and forces, causing a group to adapt to new situations and
realities.4 The Franks did continue to view surrounding Muslim powers as enemies, and
thus did engage in divergent activities such as warfare with them, but as the Franks
became more established, through a process of convergent accommodation they adopted
certain practices and beliefs of the culture they found in the East, at times adopting new
group identities to accommodate these practices. This included engaging in extensive
diplomatic practices with Muslim powers, trading with Muslims, engaging in social and
1
All Europeans who settled in the Latin states, regardless of their place of origin, came to be collectively
known as “Franks,” or Franci in Latin. Murray, “National Identity,” 116, 119.
2
Murray, “Ethnic Identity,” 59.
3
Ellenblum, Frankish Rural Settlement, 14.
4
Bar-Tal, Group Beliefs, 79.
129
cultural rituals such as bathing and hunting with Muslims, gaining medical knowledge
from them, and even, to a limited extent, sharing spatial or inegalitarian convergence,
where one group participated in worship with another party leading, in sacred spaces with
Muslims, though this remained rare. However, their identity as Christians remained
important, and the beliefs associated with this dictated that convergent accommodation
remained limited, and often focused in the secular sphere.5 Much like the crusaders and
members of the military orders, straying too far from the religious strictures of Frankish
society could lead to the exclusion of any group member from the group, and necessitated
that convergent accommodation remained largely in the secular arena. The group
boundaries of the Franks often remained tied to their religious beliefs.6
During the first two decades of crusader presence in the Holy Land, four states were
established: the county of Edessa (1098), the principality of Antioch (1098), the kingdom
of Jerusalem (1099), and the county of Tripoli (1109). Each of the states was politically
independent, with its own character, but headed by elite crusaders and their descendants
who ruled over Latin settlers and multi-ethnic indigenous populations including Muslims,
and was supported by a Latin Christian aristocracy. In 1144 Edessa was regained by
Muslim powers, triggering the Second Crusade, but the other three states survived for
several decades longer. However, after 1174 a succession of relatively weak rulers in
Jerusalem and internal disputes brought instability to all the crusader states. 7 At the end
of the Third Crusade in 1192 the kingdom of Jerusalem had been reduced to a small strip
5
Giles, Coupland, and Coupland, “Accommodation Theory,” 20.
Bar-Tal, Group Beliefs, 2.
7
Phillips, “The Latin East,” 125; Tyerman, God’s War, 200; Asbridge, The Crusades, 195.
6
130
of land between Tyre and Acre, with Antioch and Tripoli also having lost significant
territory.8
While at times the states worked for their own benefit, sometimes to the detriment of the
other states, there were strong political connections between them, and they often worked
together to protect the Christian territories from surrounding Muslim powers.9 Of all the
Latin states, the kingdom of Jerusalem was the most politically influential, a role it
gained in large part because it contained the sacred city of Jerusalem. 10 The kings of
Jerusalem possessed many of the most prestigious lands, as well as the ones which
brought in the most wealth, including the port cities of Tyre and Acre, significant centres
of trade and commerce for both Muslims and Christians. Barons were given lands, where
they were in control of their Christian and Muslim subjects, being able to enforce justice
and dictate their own foreign policies, but they were still vassals of the king, and
therefore owed military service and had their own legal matters dealt with through the
king’s High Court.11 Given the continual threat of surrounding Muslim states, as well as
competing crusader states, a significant part of the king’s power rested on his ability to
lead an army into war.12 The power of rulers in Jerusalem and the other states could never
be absolute, for the rulers had to rely on the military assistance of the nobles and lords,
members of the military orders, as well as powers from the West, against surrounding
Muslim enemies.13
8
Nicholson, The Knights Templar, 48; Riley-Smith, The Atlas of the Crusades, 60; Riley-Smith, The
Knights of St. John in Jerusalem, 88.
9
Phillips, “The Latin East,” 121, Tyerman, God’s War, 346.
10
Phillips, “The Latin East,” 121.
11
Asbridge, The Crusades, 126; Phillips, “The Latin East,” 119-20; Tyerman, God’s War, 204-5.
12
Phillips, “The Latin East,” 125; Tyerman, God’s War, 200.
13
Tyerman, God’s War, 179.
131
The crusaders ruled an indigenous population that far outnumbered them, comprised of
Jews, Muslims (both Sunni and Shi’ite), and various sects of Eastern Christians,
including Greek Orthodox, Armenians, Jacobites, Nestorians, and Zoroastrians.14 The
Franks remained a minority of the total population throughout their control of the Holy
Land. At their peak, it is estimated their population was a third of the indigenous
inhabitants. Their number of knights available for the protection of the crusader states
was also limited, with historians estimating the total number of knights who owed service
to Frankish rulers to be no more than 2,000.15 Frankish control of the indigenous
population, despite a smaller population, was based on a few factors, including control of
trade and the economic structure of the states, and, when necessary, particularly right
after the establishment of the crusader states, military power. 16 The Franks’ small
numbers and permanent presence in the Holy Land, as well as their tendency to be
absentee landlords, encouraged a relative amount of tolerance towards their subjects, as
more extensive interaction unavoidably occurred through the necessities of daily life,
such as trade, and as they were asserting political power over a substantially larger
population.
As in the case of the crusaders and military orders, warfare with Muslims remained a
prominent aspect of life for the Franks, resulting in divergence between the Franks and
14
Phillips, “The Latin East,” 113; Phillips, The Crusades, 41. The ethnic mix of each state was diverse:
Antioch was made up of Franks, Greeks, Armenians and some Muslims. Edessa was mostly Armenian.
Tripoli was more varied with Greek Orthodox, eastern Christians and diverse Muslim sects. The kingdom
of Jerusalem was a mixture of Muslims, including Bedouin tribes and eastern Christians.
15
Kedar, “The Subjected Muslims,” 148; Ellenblum, Frankish Rural Settlement, 31; Riley-Smith, The
Crusades: A Short History, 51; Housley, Fighting for the Cross, 7; Russell, “Demographic Factors,” 56;
France, The Crusades and the Expansion, 140.
16
Tyerman, God’s War, 185.
132
surrounding Muslim territories. The Franks relied on the crusaders and the military orders
for military aid when the danger posed by surrounding powers outweighed their ability to
respond to them. Yet, it can be argued that their group identity as Christians governed the
military activities of the Franks far less than it did the crusaders and military orders. The
military campaigns and alliances undertaken by the Franks did not always follow
religious lines. At times their policies led to convergence with Muslims when there was
another threat that proved more dangerous to the Franks than entering into an alliance
with Muslims. For example, a few years before the fall of Edessa to Zengi in 1144, the
Franks made an alliance with the Muslim governor of Damascus, Unur, when Zengi
threatened Unur’s territory. Such an agreement was accepted for both parties faced
danger from Zengi.17
The Islamic world was significantly more unified by the second half of the twelfth
century than it had been during the First Crusade, but there were still Muslim groups who
were at odds with one another, and Muslims also turned to Franks for convergent action
against other Muslims when it served their interests. For example, in 1163 King Amalric
of Jerusalem was persuaded by the vizier of Fatimid Egypt, Dirgham, to help him in his
fight with Nur al-Din and the former vizier of Egypt, Shawar, who were threatening
Dirgham’s power. He offered to pay the original tribute his successor had paid the
Franks, in addition to handing over hostages.18 When Dirgham was killed in battle,
Shawar turned on Nur al-Din, and appealed to Amalric for help. The Franks accepted, for
Nur al-Din posed more of a threat to the crusader states than Shawar, while the Fatimids
17
18
William of Tyre, A History of Deeds Done, vol. 2, 105-6.
Ibn al-Athir, The Chronicle, vol. 2, 144-5; William of Tyre, A History of Deeds Done, vol. 2, 303-4.
133
viewed Frankish lands as a potential buffer between Egypt and Nur al-Din.19 The Franks
more frequently engaged in convergent alliances with neighbouring Muslims against
other Muslims, than did the crusaders. The Franks did not forget that these alliances
could be tenuous and that the neighbouring Muslim powers remained hostile, but they
were also willing to form alliances with the religious ‘other’ for the overall benefit they
provided.
The necessity of fighting in continued holy war remained important to the identity of the
Franks, but their permanent presence in the Latin states highlighted the impracticality,
and at times the undesirability, of constant warfare.20 This made the Franks more open to
partaking in truces to bring about temporary cessations of hostilities. These could be brief
pauses, such as to allow an army to bury its dead, or a longer duration of years to allow
both sides to pursue more pressing military threats. 21 For example, Nur al-Din made an
agreement with Antioch that the land near Aleppo would belong to Aleppo, and the land
near Antioch would belong to Antioch, allowing both sides to focus their efforts
elsewhere.22 Even Salah al-Din, who consistently established his legitimacy as a ruler on
the importance of jihad, made two significant truces with Franks before Hattin. From
1180-82 both armies agreed to a truce so they could address more imminent military
threats than one another. Between 1185 and early 1187 Raymond III, count of Tripoli (r.
19
Hamblin, “To Wage Jihad,” 31; Christie, “Religious Campaign,” 57-8, 70; Omran, “Truces between
Moslems and Crusaders,” 425-6; Ibn al-Qalanisi, Damascus Chronicle, 276. King Fulk (1131-43) made a
similar treaty with Unur, the regent of Damascus, to create an alliance between the two against Zengi, as
did Joscelin with Kara Arslan.
20
Tyerman, God’s War,” 260; Bar-Tal, Group Beliefs, 16, 42, 58.
21
Giulio Cipollone, “Innocent III and the Saracens: Between Rejection and Collaboration,” in Pope
Innocent III and His World, ed. John C. Moore and Brenda Bolton (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1999), 363; RileySmith, “Peace Never Established,” 99. For examples see Omran, “Truces between Moslems and
Crusaders,” 423-41.
22
Omran, “Truces between Moslems and Crusaders,” 426.
134
1152-87), acting as regent of Jerusalem made a truce with the sultan due to a crippling
famine. During this time the Muslims supplied food to the Franks, saving their lives. 23
This truce ended when Reynald of Chatillon, in late 1186, attacked one of Salah al-Din’s
caravans arriving from Egypt, giving the sultan the excuse to invade Frankish territory,
precipitating the call for the Third Crusade.24
At times the Franks converged even further with Muslims, seeking treaties to prevent
hostilities from erupting in the first place. These treaties were generally concluded to
allow the necessities of daily life to occur, for both sides ultimately benefitted from such
accommodation. For example, safe conducts were negotiated to allow merchants and
foreigners to travel through enemy territories with their goods. 25 When travelling between
Frankish and Muslim lands, Ibn Jubayr remarked on the safety Christian and Muslim
travellers experienced, including the merchant caravan he was travelling with. In
exchange for safe conduct, merchants paid a tax to neighbouring states. 26 Both sides
decided that while their states were often at war, trade and travel were necessities that
they wanted to continue, and often, as long as taxes were paid, the travel of merchants
happened relatively easily. This desire for trade resulted in sometimes conflicting
identities, where the conviction of the necessity of holy war was challenged by a desire
for the economic benefits and physical goods brought into the crusader states through
23
Edbury, “Propaganda and Faction,” 175-6; Tyerman, God’s War, 362, 366; Phillips, Holy Warriors, 119,
124; Edbury, The Conquest of Jerusalem, 17.
24
Baha’ al-Din, The Rare and Excellent History of Saladin, 74; Nicholson, The Chronicle of the Third
Crusade, 29-30; Phillips, Holy Warriors, 125.
25
Riley-Smith, “Peace Never Established,” 99; Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 399;
Dajani-Shakeel, “Some Aspects,” 197-8; Dajani-Shakeel, “Diplomatic Relations,” 212; Phillips, “The Latin
East,” 114.
26
Ibn Jubayr, The Travels of Ibn Jubayr, 300-301, 314-15; Kedar, “Some New Sources,” 132.
135
trade.27 These treaties could be broken, such as was done by Reynald, and bandits were
always feared by all caravans, but treaties allowed trade to continue at least to some
extent, even sometimes during times of war.28
Not all convergent accommodation with the enemy was undertaken for the good of
Christendom as a whole, or even that of the crusaders states. For some Franks, their
personal goals were their priority, rather than the benefit of the larger group or their
identity as Catholic Christians.29 For example, Conrad, the marquis of Montferrat (and
future king of Jerusalem, r. 1192), sought to gain the kingdom for himself, and he was
willing to try many things to get it.30 One of those attempts saw him offering an
agreement with Salah al-Din that he would keep peace with him in exchange for half of
Jerusalem, as well as the cities of Beirut and Sidon and half of the countryside on his side
of the Jordan. This agreement was never concluded, as before he could finish negotiations
with Salah al-Din he was assassinated.31 The Franks were not a homogenous group, and,
while they shared general characteristics, the choices of individuals towards Muslims
could remain unique, and converge or diverge regardless of the greater group identity or
group goals.
27
Jacoby, “Aspects of Everyday Life,” 84-6; Bar-Tal, Group Beliefs, 43.
Talmon-Heller, “Muslims and Eastern Christians,” 45; Dajani-Shakeel, “Some Aspects,” 197-8;
Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 391-2.
29
Gallois and Callan, “Interethnic Accommodation,” 250.
30
Nicholson, The Chronicle of the Third Crusade, 87, 121; Edbury, The Conquest of Jerusalem, 168;
Asbridge, The Crusades, 393-4; Tyerman, God’s War, 429; Phillips, Holy Warriors, 144-5.
31
Nicholson, The Chronicle of the Third Crusade, 302-4; Baha’ al-Din, The Rare and Excellent History,
194, 199-201; Ambroise, Estoire de la Guerre Sainte, vol. 2, 70, 148; Phillips Holy Warriors, 156;
Asbridge, The Crusades, 495-6.
28
136
The Franks were more likely to engage in convergent military accommodation with
Muslims than short term crusaders, due to the realities of the necessities of daily life
presented by permanence in the Levant, and because they faced many enemies on a more
continuous basis. However, many of these truces and treaties remained short lived and
tenuous. In part this was the case because the religious identity held by Franks and
Muslims prevented permanent arrangements. In particular, for Muslims, this was
enshrined in their military practices, as seen in Chapter Two, with the practice of
allowing hudnas, short-term truces. Muslims were permitted only to make truces that
lasted a maximum of ten years, prescribed by the time of the truce between Muhammad
and the Meccans.32 Though these treaties could be renegotiated, in the eleventh to
thirteenth centuries, of all known truces, only one exceeded this. The truce between King
Amalric (1163-74) with the Fatimid caliphate in Egypt in 1167 was to be indefinite.33
Because of the tenuous nature of many of these agreements, treaties did not generally
create lasting intellectual understanding or convergence between both faiths.
Aside from raids, sieges, and pitched battles, much of the military diplomatic contact that
occurred between the crusaders and Franks and the Muslims of the Near East occurred
through the Frankish nobility and rulers, and through the diplomats and envoys they used
to travel between them, negotiating treaties and truces. The crusaders and Franks were
separated from the Muslims they fought by language, religion, and social, political, and
intellectual culture. The Franks went further than the crusaders in creating convergent
accommodative practices to help to bridge some of these separations to engage more
32
33
Christie and Gerish, “Parallel Preachings,” 142; Riley-Smith, “Peace Never Established,” 100-1.
Riley-Smith, “Peace Never Established,” 100; William of Tyre, A History of Deeds Done, vol. 2, 318.
137
effectively in negotiation and diplomacy. While language was one of the biggest hurdles
to cross, gestures and symbols could vary greatly between cultures, and a shared language
of gestures had to be developed. While the crusaders developed this to a limited extent
(see Chapter Two), the Franks were far more adept at this form of convergent
accommodation, and this led to more opportunities for successful diplomacy.
Diplomats and envoys needed to be skilled in understanding the culture and religion of
the people with whom they were coming into contact, and in the language and gestures
used to express their ideas, and needs in negotiations. This need led to greater convergent
accommodation with Muslims by diplomats and rulers than other soldiers.34 For the
emissaries who worked between the Christians and Muslims, some gestures were the
same and could be easily transferred across the cultural divide. For instance, bowing,
kneeling, and prostration were performed in relation to a person’s rank as a sign of
humility.35 Other gestures did not have the same cultural meaning and new meanings
needed to be assigned to them. One such example was the manner in which a ruler was
approached. In the East, a ruler was to be elevated above his subjects, and those
approaching him were to stand lower, or bow forward. A subject’s hand was to extend
towards the ruler, but no physical contact took place. It was considered an insult even to
put a letter directly into a king’s hand.36 In Europe such behaviour was perfectly
acceptable. To clasp a right hand in Europe was a crucial gesture to seal a treaty and
represented putting one’s strength in another’s hand. In the Levant, a treaty was sealed
34
Friedman, “Gestures of Conciliation,” 32, 34,” Giles, Coupland, and Coupland, “Accommodation
Theory,” 7-8, 19-20.
35
Friedman, “Gestures of Conciliation,” 31, 34.
36
Friedman, “Gestures of Conciliation,” 40, 42.
138
through bowing and kneeling, and through the giving of gifts. An envoy usually served as
a proxy to the ruler.37 By the time of the Third Crusade, there had been convergence
between both groups, and the taking of a right hand had become a mutually accepted
gesture to conclude a treaty. In September 1192 Salah al-Din and Richard were engaged
in ongoing negotiations to arrange a hudna (peace treaty) so Richard could return to
Europe. Upon the conclusion of these negotiations, Richard, who was ill, sent an envoy to
Salah al-Din, giving his hand, and Salah al-Din in response, also agreed to give his hand
to confirm the treaty. 38
These shared gestures extended the ability of the Franks and Muslims to engage in
convergent accommodation, but they could also be used in a divergent manner, to assert
power, and could lead to situations of diplomatic discomfort. When King Amalric came
to assist Shawar in Egypt in 1167, the Frankish envoy, Hugh of Caesarea, was brought to
the caliph al-Adid with a treaty proposal. When the proposal was accepted, the caliph
offered a gloved hand, but Hugh insisted that he offer a bare hand. William of Tyre
records, “Finally, with extreme unwillingness, as if it detracted from his majesty, yet with
a slight smile, which greatly aggrieved the Egyptians, he put his uncovered hand into that
of Hugh.”39 With this simple gesture, Hugh was asserting a position of Christian power.
Since this gesture had not yet become one with a shared meaning, Hugh was forcing the
37
Friedman, “Gestures of Conciliation,” 37-8. For examples see Baha’ al-Din, The Rare and Excellent
History of Saladin, 228-9, 230-1; Richard of Devizes, “Richard of Devizes,” in The Crusades: A Reader,
ed. S. J. Allen and Emilie Amt (Peterborough, ON: Broadview Press, 2003), 176.
38
Baha’ al-Din, The Rare and Excellent History of Saladin, 228-9, 230-1; Asbridge, “Talking to the
Enemy,” 294.
39
Translated in William of Tyre, A History of Deeds Done, vol. 2, 321. “Tunc denum invitus plurimum et
quasi maiestati detrahens, subridens tamen, quod multum egre tulerunt Egyptii dexteram suam in manum
domini Hugonis nudam prebuit.” Guillaume de Tyr, Chronique, 889. For examples in literature of contact
with a ruler’s right hand see Sayers, The Song of Roland, 70, 142, 153.
139
caliph in European terms into putting himself into the hands of his enemy, as well as
referencing a sign of surrender. On the Muslim side, to have physical contact with the
caliph was considered to be a sign of grace.40 By forcing physical contact Hugh was
expressing both convergent and divergent behaviour, by concluding the treaty, but doing
so on terms that expressed a position of Christian strength.
The major barrier to convergent diplomacy, as well as trade, was the lack of a shared
language. By the Second Crusade the Franks had realized the importance of learning
Arabic, or employing those who had.41 Attiya has suggested that more Franks learned
Arabic than previous historians recognized, despite the original implications of Urban’s
speech that the hostility of the crusaders towards Muslims would not allow them to gain
any knowledge of Islamic culture.42 By learning to speak Arabic, certain Frankish rulers
and nobility expressed a willingness to undertake convergent accommodation and
negotiate with Muslim enemies, coming into close physical space, as well as beginning to
share a limited cultural space.43 The chronicler William of Tyre records during the siege
of Damascus that a Frankish envoy was selected to negotiate with the atabeg Unur,
“because of his familiarity with the language of the Turks.” 44 Baha’ al-Din records that
Reynald, lord of Sidon and Beaufort (1171-1200) knew Arabic and beyond that, was
familiar with some collections of Hadith (the recorded sayings of Muhammad) and
40
Friedman, “Gestures of Conciliation,” 38.
Attiya, “Knowledge of Arabic,” 203; Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 333; RileySmith, “The Survival in Latin Palestine,” 11; Dajani-Shakeel, “Diplomatic Relations,” 210.
42
Attiya, “Knowledge of Arabic,” 203-4.
43
Dajani-Shakeel, “Some Aspects,” 200; Friedman, “Gestures of Conciliation,” 32.
44
Translated in William of Tyre, A History of Deeds Done, vol. 2, 155. “Propter lingue commercium, quod
habere dicebatur familiare plurimum, iterum ei id muneris iniungitur.” Guillaume de Tyr, Chronique, 731.
41
140
Muslim histories.45 By learning Arabic as well as some of the histories and stories of
Islam, Franks, to a greater extent than the short-term crusaders, began to converge in a
limited manner towards Muslim culture, knowledge that assisted them in their
negotiations and interactions.
The degree and type of interaction and convergent or divergent accommodation that
occurred outside a military setting between the settled European populations and the
native inhabitants of the Levant has been greatly contested by historians over the last
century. Before the 1940s historians such as Munro, Cahen and Grousset posited the
existence of a highly integrated society where the Franks assimilated themselves into the
life of the East, creating a new Franco-Syrian identity.46 This model, supported by French
historians, failed to make a distinction between native inhabitants who were Christian and
those who were of other faiths such as Muslims or Jews.47 This was a significant failure,
for religious convictions were fundamental to the identity of medieval societies, and the
religious identity of the native inhabitants greatly affected the geographic areas in which
the Franks chose to settle.48
After the 1940s new historians challenged this model of assimilation. R.C. Smail and
Joshua Prawer were some of the first to suggest that settlement by the Franks among the
native populations was actually limited, with the Franks mainly remaining an urban
45
Baha’ al-Din, The Rare and Excellent History of Saladin, 90; Attiya, “Knowledge of Arabic,” 206.
Ellenblum, Frankish Rural Settlement, 3. For examples see Dana Carleton Munro, The Kingdom of the
Crusaders (Port Washington, N.Y.: Kennikat Press, 1966); Cahen, Orient et occident au temps de
croisades; Claude Cahen, “Notes sur l’histoire des croisades et de l’orient latin,” II: “Le regime rural Syrien
au temps de la domination Franque,” Bulletin de la Faculté des lettres de Strasbourg, 29 (1950-51);
Grousset, L’Épopée des croisades; Grousset, Histoire des croisades, 3 vols.
47
Ellenblum, Frankish Rural Settlement, 285; Daftary, “The Isma`ilis,” 34.
48
Ellenblum, “Settlement and Society,” 37-8, 40; Asbridge, The Crusades, 177.
46
141
population, congregating in cities, with only limited rural settlement. 49 While the Franks
took on the food, clothing, and other physical assimilations of the Near East, these
elements were only outward trappings, and did not point to a deeper cultural assimilation.
Smail suggests that instances that are often used as proof of a deeper connection at best
prove a connection that was ‘superficial’ contact and was often only experienced by a
small portion of the population, not the whole.50 According to him, this second school of
thought “considers that the basic feature of the organization of the Latin states was the
imposition of a numerically small military aristocracy over the mass of the native
population. This ruling class exploited the subject peoples economically by means of
social arrangements which they found in existence, and which were akin to those they
had known in Europe.”51 But other than this economic imposition, this view suggests the
Franks did not greatly affect the lives of the native populations. They kept to themselves
within the large and protected cities of the East.52
More recently, historians have returned to suggesting a more integrated model of
settlement, with the Franks extending their settlements into rural areas, but making
distinctions between the ethnic and religious backgrounds of the native inhabitants
amongst whom they settled. From 1985-88 and 1989-91 Ronnie Ellenblum conducted
archaeological surveys in the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem, examining over 200 crusader
settlements, consisting of rural burgi (villages) and maisons fortes (manor houses). These
49
Prawer, The Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem, 66; Joshua Prawer, “Colonization Activities in the Latin
kingdom,” in The Medieval Frontiers of Latin Christendom, ed. James Muldoon and Felipe FernandezArmesto (Farnham: Ashgate, 2008), 93; Smail, Crusading Warfare, 57-63; Ellenblum, Frankish Rural
Settlement, 4-5.
50
Smail, Crusading Warfare, 44-5.
51
Smail, Crusading Warfare, 62-3.
52
Prawer, The Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem, 66, 318; Ellenblum, Frankish Rural Settlement, 6.
142
villages were often attached to castles owned by the Franks, and they served as centres
from which agricultural work was done. The maisons fortes also served as centres for
agriculture, usually in more remote locations. 53 Ellenblum’s excavations show that the
Franks gathered in certain areas more than others, and it appears that the preferred areas
were ones where Eastern Christians were either a strong minority or a majority of the
population.54 Adrian Boas suggests that after an initial period of unrest as the Franks
settled themselves, these settlements in rural areas remained largely unfortified until the
Franks’ hold on Outremer began to wane in the 1170s, at which time previously
unfortified structures began to be fitted with outer defensive walls.55 It is this view of
settlement that this study will accept and build upon.
The amount of convergence or divergence initially experienced between the Franks and
Muslims depended largely on the way the Franks conquered the specific territories. When
the takeover was violent, such as the conquest of Jerusalem in 1099, the response was
largely divergent, with much of the Muslim population either killed or taken in captivity.
When the takeover was relatively peaceful and the native population surrendered, more
opportunities for convergent accommodation occurred. Peasants were permitted to
remain on their land, though elite Muslims generally chose to relocate to other Muslimcontrolled territories.56 After this initial period of violent takeovers or negotiated
53
Ellenblum, “Settlement and Society,” 35-6. For a map of the locations of the settlements excavated by
Ellenblum see p. 37.
54
Ellenblum, Frankish Rural Settlement, 232-3.
55
Adrian J. Boas, “Three Stages in the Evolution of Rural Settlement in the Kingdom of Jerusalem during
the Twelfth Century,” in In Laudem Hierosolymitani: Studies in Crusades and Medieval Culture in Honour
of Benjamin Z. Kedar, ed. Iris Shagrir, Ronnie Ellenblum and Jonathan Riley-Smith (Aldershot: Ashgate,
2007), 77-89.
56
Kedar, “The Subjected Muslims,” 149-50; Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 358-9;
Dajani-Shakeel, “Natives and Franks,” 171.
143
surrenders, there was subsequently little resistance from the indigenous inhabitants who
were used to living in a divided country where their ruler changed regularly.57
Throughout their tenure in East, the Franks were always a numerical minority, a fact that
greatly influenced their approach to their new subjects.58 Because their control of the
Levant depended on controlling a population much larger than their own, they offered a
certain amount of convergent accommodation to ensure cooperation from their subjects. 59
Instead of imposing a new administrative and political structure on their subjects, the
Franks converged towards the existing structure, keeping their structures similar to the
ones of those who had ruled before them, though they diverged by placing themselves at
the top of this structure, followed by Eastern Christians, with Muslims finding themselves
now at the bottom, along with the Jews. Yet, daily life and traditions likely changed little
for Muslim peasants. The Franks were generally content to allow the Muslims to keep
their religion and way of life as long as they remained peaceful. In exchange, the peasants
worked for an overlord, overseen by a dragoman or ra’is, Muslim overseers appointed by
the Franks, giving a portion of their goods as taxes. In his travels through the crusader
states, Ibn Jubayr travelled through agricultural lands near Tyre and observed that the
Muslims were living a relatively comfortable life under the Franks. These peasants paid
half their crops and an additional tax on the crop from fruit trees, as well as a poll tax.
These amounts could be similar to or even less than what they would pay in Muslim
territories. Other than these impositions they were left on their own. In fact, Ibn Jubayr
57
Asbridge, “The ‘Crusader’ Community at Antioch,” 318.
At the peak in the 1180s it is estimated the Frankish population measured around 100,000-140,000 while
the indigenous population numbered 300,000-360,000.
59
Setton, A History of the Crusades, vol. 5, 106; Giles, Coupland, and Coupland, “Accommodation
Theory,” 18-19.
58
144
criticizes them for the comfortable life they live under the Franks, when they could be
living in Muslim territories.60 The imposition of the poll tax highlights the divergent
response of the Franks to their subjects. This tax was similar to the Muslim jizya that had
previously been imposed on dhimmis, Jewish and Christian subjects, that the Muslims
themselves were now being charged.61 The Franks placed Muslims at the bottom of the
social scale. They also restricted certain legal rights. 62 While the placement of Muslim
peasants in the social strata changed under the Franks, the Franks converged towards the
administrative structure already in place, allowing peasants to maintain their religious
beliefs and cultural practices, as long as they acquiesced to Frankish political control and
taxation.
While many peasants faced little overall change to their daily life, for some Muslims,
their treatment became far worse under the Franks, as their overlords diverged greatly
from previous practices, asserting their control over the Muslim peasant population. The
Hanbali writer al-Maqdisi (Diya al-Din Abu `Abd Allah Muhammad b. `Abd al-Wahid
al-Maqdisi, 1173-1245) from Damascus wrote a hagiographical dictionary about the
shaykhs (elders) of the community of Nablus (Karamat Masha’ikh al-Ard alMuqaddasa/The Wondrous Deeds of the Shaykhs of the Holy Land) which was
60
Ibn Jubayr, The Travels of Ibn Jubayr, 316-18; Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 364-5;
Talmon-Heller, “Muslims and Eastern Christians,” 45; Talmon-Heller, “Arabic Sources,” 106, 111; Prawer,
The Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem, 374-5; Richard, The Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem, 133; Kedar, “The
Subjected Muslims,” 168-170.
61
Paul L. Sidelko, “Muslim Taxation under Crusader Rule,” in Tolerance and Intolerance: Social Conflict
in the Age of the Crusades, ed. Michael Gervers and James M. Powell (Syracuse, New York: Syracuse
University Press, 2001), 70. For more information on the dhimmis and the collection of the jizya see
Buckley, The Book of the Islamic Market Inspector, 121-2.
62
Kedar, “The Subjected Muslims,” 170; Riley-Smith, “Government and the Indigenous,” 127.
145
conquered by the Franks in 1099.63 The treatment of Muslims in Nablus appears to have
been harsher than that observed by Ibn Jubayr around Tyre. The Hanbalite community
appeared to react with fear of violence when the Franks were near. Under the rule of
Baldwin of Ibelin (1133-86) they also experienced higher taxes.64 Yet even in a
community that faced harsher treatment from their overlord, they were still granted some
freedoms. Al-Maqdisi concedes that the Franks allowed Muslims to pray publically in
mosques, visit shrines, and go on pilgrimage to Mecca.65 `Imad al-Din wrote that the
Hanbalites had “accommodated themselves to living as subjects of the Franks…who
annually collected from them a tax levy and changed not a single law or cult practice of
theirs.”66 While the Franks who ruled Nablus were perceived as creating harsher living
conditions for the Muslim peasants, their relationship was, according to Kedar, one of
“rare resistance, limited collaboration.”67
The Franks primarily chose to settle in areas inhabited predominantly by indigenous
Christians, diverging geographically away from their Muslim subjects, and limiting
chances for other kinds of convergence. Muslim villages and towns were controlled by
Frankish overlords, who were largely absentee landlords, and run on a day to day basis by
a ra’is, or headman, to serve as an intermediary between the village and the Frankish
63
Talmon-Heller, “Arabic Sources on Muslim Villagers,” 104-5.
Talmon-Heller, “Wondrous Doings of the Shaykhs of the Holy Land,” 112-13, 131, 134, 147, 149;
Talmon-Heller, “Muslims and Eastern Christians,” 44; Kedar, “Some New Sources,” 136; Hillenbrand, The
Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 359-61.
65
Ellenblum, “Settlement and Society,” 38-9; Ellenblum, Frankish Rural Settlement, 36, 283; Kedar,
“Some New Sources,” 137; Dajani-Shakeel, “Natives and Franks,” 171; Dajani-Shakeel, “Some Aspects,”
194.
66
Translated in D. S. Richards, “A Text of `Imad al-Din on 12th Century Frankish-Muslim Relations,”
Arabica 25, no. 2 (Jun. 1978): 203; Kedar, “Some New Sources,” 137; Riley-Smith, “Government and the
Indigenous,” 122.
67
Kedar, “The Subjected Muslims,” 247, 249-50; Talmon-Heller, “Wondrous Doings of the Shaykhs of the
Holy Land,” 112-13.
64
146
overlord, a position that was usually filled by one of the heads of the local families. The
ra’is oversaw the agricultural production of the village. 68 When Ibn Jubayr arrived at a
Muslim farm he was met by the ra’is, a man he recognized as holding the Franks’
approval to oversee the land, and it was from him that Ibn Jubayr and his caravan
received hospitality and lodging. 69 The ra’is also served as an arbiter of justice, presiding
over the Cour des Syriens, a continuation of earlier courts dating before the arrival of the
Franks. The Cour des Syriens was granted jurisdiction over all who did not fall under the
jurisdiction of the ‘law of Rome,’ the Latin Christians.70 In some places that had markets,
the Cour des Syriens was eventually replaced by the Cour de la Fonde, a market court,
dealing with commercial and civil matters, which was run primarily by Franks, along
with a few native Syrians. The Franks allowed the Muslims to deal with their own justice,
except in cases, as in markets, where there was contact between the two groups. 71 The
Franks exhibited a certain tolerance, if not extensive convergence, towards their
inhabitants, encouraging a willingness for a population of much greater size to subject
themselves to the rule of the Franks.72
Along with the ra’is, two other important positions were used by the Franks to administer
Muslim settlements. These were the dragoman and the scribe. The dragomans were often
Latins, but sometimes also Muslims who spoke both Arabic and European languages and
68
Riley-Smith, “Some Lesser Officials,” 1, 11-12; Asbridge, The Crusades, 178.
Ibn Jubary, The Travels of Ibn Jubayr, 317.
70
Riley-Smith, “Some Lesser Officials,” 2-3; Richard, The Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem, 138-9; Beugnot,
ed., RHC, Lois I, 25-6. John of Ibelin (1250-66) speaks of how the indigenous populations requested of
Godfrey of Bouillon to be granted their own courts.
71
Richard, The Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem, 138-9; Jonathan Riley-Smith, “Some Lesser Officials in
Latin Syria,” in Crusaders and Settlers in the Latin East, ed. Jonathan Riley-Smith (Farnham: Ashgate,
2008), Essay X: 6-7; Beugnot, RHC, Lois I, 171-3.
72
Kedar, “Some New Sources,” 129; Richard, The Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem, 139.
69
147
worked as interpreters, serving as intermediaries between Muslim inhabitants and
Frankish lords. The amount of power they held varied by their position. 73 In villages they
were also responsible for taking in agricultural produce from peasants and that which
belonged directly to the master.74 Scribes were largely Muslims, though there were also
some who were Latin or Native Christians, fluent in Frankish languages and Arabic. 75
Scribes were clerks who were responsible for the collection of the revenues of a village. 76
When Ibn Jubayr’s caravan arrived at Acre he was impressed by the Christian clerks he
dealt with who were fluent in Arabic.77 Through these positions the Franks experienced
limited convergence with their Muslim subjects, allowing them to retain the social and
administrative structures of their previous rulers. However, most Franks had little contact
with the general Muslim peasant population, choosing to settle among native Christians,
and placing themselves at the top of the social structure, relegating Muslim peasants to
the bottom.
When it came to the faith of their subjects, for the secular and religious leaders of the
crusader states, a limited convergent accommodation was often their approach towards
Muslim subjects. They allowed limited toleration of their subjects’ religious practices,
and did not force conversions.78 In both theology and law, conversions and baptisms were
73
Riley-Smith, “Some Lesser Officials,” 18; Jonathan Riley-Smith, “The Survival in Latin Palestine of
Muslim Administration,” in The Eastern Mediterranean Lands in the Period of the Crusades, ed. P.M. Holt
(Warminster: Aris and Phillips Ltd., 1977), 11; Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 333;
Attiya, “Knowledge of Arabic,” 208.
74
Riley-Smith, “Some Lesser Officials,” 19; Riley-Smith, “The Survival in Latin Palestine,” 11.
75
Riley-Smith, “Some Lesser Officials,” 23; Kedar, “The Subjected Muslims,” 157; Attiya, “Knowledge of
Arabic,” 208.
76
Kedar, “The Subjected Muslims, 157; Riley-Smith, “The Survival in Latin Palestine,” 11; Attiya,
“Knowledge of Arabic,” 208.
77
Ibn Jubayr, The Travels of Ibn Jubayr, 317; Attiya, “Knowledge of Arabic,” 207.
78
Muldoon, “Tolerance and Intolerance,” 119; Phillips, “The Latin East,” 115.
148
not allowed to be forced, and so Muslim subjects were allowed to remain in Frankish
territory and keep their own religion. James Muldoon suggests two reasons for this. First,
if non-Christian subjects were allowed to remain, there was always a chance they would
convert in the future. Second, the Muslims provided labour that was desperately needed
by the Frankish population, always in a numerical minority. The economic advantages
provided by Muslim labourers were greatly valued, and it was better to have Muslim
subjects remain on their land working.79
When conversions did occur, of either Franks or Muslims, they were often a result of
circumstance, rather than genuine belief. When the Franks faced a severe famine, some
fled to the Turks and apostatized, saving their bodies (though, according to the
Itinerarium Peregrinorum, damning their souls).80 Conversions were also found among
Christians and Muslims when they were faced with danger, converting after being
captured in battle to avoid being put to death, or enslaved by their captors.81 However,
these conversions were often impermanent. As soon as danger passed, the newlyconverted reverted back to their original faith.82 When the Franks conquered Acre they
offered to free all those who converted and those who feared for their lives did so, but
once they had been freed they reverted and returned to Salah al-Din.83 As the faith of
each group was one of the key parts of their overall group identity, it often took extreme
79
Muldoon, “Tolerance and Intolerance,” 118-19; Kedar, “The Subjected Muslims,” 164.
Nicholson, The Chronicle of the Third Crusade, 132.
81
Nicholson, The Chronicle of the Third Crusade, 218, 272; Ibn al-Athir, The Chronicle, vol. 2, 104; Roger
de Hoveden, The Annals, vol. 2, part 1, 214-15.
82
Dajani-Shakeel, “Natives and Franks,” 173; Roger de Hoveden, The Annals, vol. 2, part 1, 215.
83
Roger de Hoveden, The Annals, vol. 2, part 1, 215; Usama Ibn Munqidh, The Book of Contemplation,
143. Usamah recounts similar stories of Christians who converted to Islam only to turn their back on their
faith. This will be discussed at greater length in section on intermarriage.
80
149
circumstances for that to change. Members of the group faced delegitimization and
expulsion from their group if they converted.
It was only through conversion that people could enter fully into the group identity of
‘other,’ though, for it was their religious identity that served as one of their most
significant and central identities, and affected many of their attitudes and behaviours
towards others.84 It was only through conversion that one was able to join the Frankish
community as a full group member. A limited number of records do exist of people
choosing to convert of their own volition. While those of the same faith who record them
are highly critical of the converts, the conversions do appear to have happened
voluntarily.85 Ibn Jubayr travelled with a Maghribi man who met with Christians along
the way. He converted and, according to Ibn Jubayr, became a monk, “thereby hastening
for himself the flames of hell, verifying the threats of torture, and exposing himself to a
grievous account and a long-distant return (from hell).”86 Al-Maqdisi records a similar
episode in his writings about the Hanbalite community at Nablus. He records only one
man converting, entering a church and thereafter belonging “to the people of hell.” 87
Through these conversions these members of other faiths became full group members.
The Franks who came to the East settled there to protect the sacred sites of the Holy
Land, and were therefore often very protective of those sites. Muslims too sought control
84
Bar-Tal, Group Beliefs, 16, 42, 58; Giles, Coupland, and Coupland, “Accommodation Theory,” 2.
Kedar, “The Subjected Muslims,” 163; Kedar, “Some New Sources,” 137.
86
Translated in Ibn Jubayr, The Travels of Ibn Jubayr, 323.
87
Translated in Daniella Talmon-Heller, “The Cited Tales of the Wondrous Doings of the Shaykhs of the
Holy Land by Diya al-Din Abu `Abd Allah Muhammad b. `Abd al-Wahid al-Maqdisi (569/1173643/1245): Text, Translation and Commentary,” Crusades 1 (2002): 136.
85
150
of holy places. Both the crusades and counter-crusade were focused on bringing
Jerusalem and other sacred sites into the sole possession of their faith, and this often led
to tension or outright violence.88 In July 1188 Salah al-Din attacked the city of Antartus,
tearing down the city wall, and burning down the city, in particular a church that was a
significant site of pilgrimage for Christians, as well as a church at Lydda in 1191. 89 In
1182/3 the Franks attacked Daryya and planned to demolish its mosque. This was averted
when the Muslims threatened to destroy multiple churches in retaliation.90 The Temple
Mount and Mount of Olives were also places Muslims and Christians fought for
exclusive control.91 The fight for these sites led to religious divergence and hostility.
Interestingly, though, control of sacred spaces did not always lead to divergence. Some
sacred sites for Muslims and Christians inspired peaceful spatial convergence rather than
violence, though not generally greater intellectual understanding or other convergence. 92
One of the ways this happened was through the Franks allowing certain mosques to
remain in use, or keeping a portion of sites for Muslim worship, despite their being now
Christian sites. Ibn Jubayr records that at Tyre he was able to worship at a mosque that
88
Riley-Smith, “Government and the Indigenous,” 123. Yet even Jerusalem found instances of peaceful
worship. While Muslims were not allowed to live within Jerusalem’s walls, they were allowed to come and
worship and would come to pray at the Dome of the Rock as well as the al-Aqsa Mosque. See Chapter One
for Jerusalem’s significance to Christians and Muslims.
89
Baha’ al-Din, The Rare and Excellent History of Saladin, 83; Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic
Perspectives, 380.
90
Ibn al-Athir, The Chronicle, vol. 2, 285.
91
Ora Limor, “Sharing Sacred Space: Holy Places in Jerusalem Between Christianity, Judaism, and Islam,”
in In Laudem Hierosolymitani: Studies in Crusades and Medieval Culture in Honour of Benjamin Z. Kedar,
ed. Iris Shagrir, Ronnie Ellenblum and Jonathan Riley-Smith (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007), 219, 227; Elad,
Medieval Jerusalem and Islamic Worship, 68; Baer, “Visual Representations,” 392.
92
Kedar, “Convergence,” 89-91; Giles, Coupland, and Coupland, “Accommodation Theory,” 11; TalmonHeller, “Arabic Sources on Muslim Villagers,” 107; Riley-Smith, The Crusades: A Short History, 55;
Kedar, “Some New Sources,” 129.
151
had remained in Muslim hands.93 He also recounts that a small portion of a mosque
containing the tomb of the prophet Salih in Acre remained a mosque while the rest was
converted to the Christian Church of the Holy Cross. 94 Like the military orders, the
Franks allowed a limited spatial convergence to occur within certain sacred sites.
In other cases, sacred spaces, including shrines or tombs, were shared, though often one
faith served as a gatekeeper. Some provided simple spatial convergence, whereas others
saw inegalitarian convergence where a service was shared, with one side leading and the
other participating.95 Christians could attend the Frankish cathedral of Sebaste, and its
tomb of John the Baptist for free, while Muslims gained entry with a “gift.” 96 Free entry
was granted to Muslims at the Church of the Holy Nativity in Bethlehem, and at the
Templum Domini in Jerusalem.97 At Hebron, Muslims were custodians of tombs believed
to belong to Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebekah, and Jacob and Leah. Muslims
provided information to pilgrims who paid a fee.98 Muslims were also known to gather at
the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem to witness the miracle of the lighting of
the Easter fire.99 This spatial and inegalitarian convergence saw Christians and Muslims
prioritizing peaceful convergence and access to these sites rather than continued struggle
and exclusive control.
93
Ibn Jubayr, The Travels of Ibn Jubayr, 321; Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives,” 379;
Talmon-Heller, “Muslims and Eastern Christians,” 43.
94
Ibn Jubayr, The Travels of Ibn Jubayr, 318; Kedar, “Convergences,” 91; Riley-Smith, “Government and
the Indigenous,” 123.
95
Kedar, “Convergences,” 91-3; Limor, “Sharing Sacred Space,” 220. Benjamin Kedar provides useful
distinctions between spatial, in-egalitarian and egalitarian convergences at sacred sites as well as examples.
96
Kedar, “Convergences,” 91; Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 372.
97
Hamilton, “Our Lady of Saidnaiya,” 210; John of Wurzburg, “Description of the Holy Land,” 18;
Benjamin of Tudela, The Itinerary, 83.
98
Benjamin of Tudela, The Itinerary, 86; Denys Pringle, “Churches and Settlement in Crusader Palestine,”
in The Experience of Crusading 2. Defining the Crusader Kingdom, ed. Peter Edbury and Jonathan Phillips
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 168.
99
Kedar, “Convergences,” 90; Riley-Smith, The Crusades: A History, 55-6.
152
At a popular level, Franks and Muslims joined together in egalitarian convergence in
seasonal celebrations, where Muslim and Christian celebrations coincided with one
another. When the Franks celebrated Easter the Muslims celebrated their new year
(Nawrūz); at Whitsuntide the Muslims celebrated al-Anṣarah (heat); Christmas fell in the
cold season; and the rainy season coincided with the Feast of St. Barbara (4 December).
Even when the crusaders were at war with Muslims, these celebrations continued among
common people.100
The Franks also adopted many aspects of the physical culture of the society they found in
the East, a decision that was largely of a practical nature in response to the new climate
and physical geography of the Levant. This accommodation was a change in the outward
behaviour of the Franks, but did not necessarily result in a more convergent attitude
overall towards their Muslims subjects.101 The Franks still found ways to identify
themselves as separate, and superior, to their subjects. When the settlers first arrived, they
moved into the houses they conquered, and ate many of the available local foods,
including beans, lentils and peas.102 Usamah tells a story of a Frankish man who invited a
Muslim man to dinner. When the Muslim hesitated to accept, the Frank assured him he
employed an Egyptian cook who followed Muslim customs, so the man could eat without
100
Dajani-Shakeel, “Natives and Franks,” 162; Al-Muqaddasi, The Best Divisions for Knowledge, 166.
Ciggaar, “Adaptation to Oriental Life,” 261; Giles, Coupland, and Coupland, “Accommodation
Theory,” 11-12.
102
Marwan Nader, “Urban Muslims, Latin Laws, and Legal Institutions in the Kingdom of Jerusalem,”
Medieval Encounters 13, no. 2 (2007): 245-6; Krijnie N. Ciggaar, “Adaptation to Oriental Life by Rulers in
and Around Antioch Examples and Exempla,” in East and West in the Medieval Eastern Mediterranean,
ed. Krijnie Nelly Ciggar and David Michael Metcalf (Leuven: Uitgeverij Peeters en Departement Oosterse
Studies, 2006), 261.
101
153
fear of eating foods forbidden by his faith.103 Muslim women, both those who had
converted and those who had not, served as domestic servants to the nobility. They were
also responsible for introducing the Franks to Levantine food, as well as teaching the
children in their care Arabic.104
The clothing of the Levant also highlighted ways in which Franks converged to some of
the physical accoutrements of the East, while maintaining divergent identities overall,
identities that were based at least in part on their religious group identity. Many of the
Frankish settlers chose to wear the loose clothing of the East, more practical garments in
the heat of their new environment.105 The fashions favoured by Muslim women also
transferred over to Frankish women. 106 Yet, while the Franks adopted Muslim styles of
dress, they actively discouraged any reversal, and in this way diverged from their
subjects, as the new political and social elite. A law was instituted at the 1120 council of
Nablus that prohibited Muslims from wearing Western clothing. 107 The council was held
in response to the crushing defeat of Prince Roger of Antioch’s (1113-19) army by the
Artuqid emir of Aleppo, Il-ghazi (r. 1107-22) at the Field of Blood in 1119. Many of the
canons laid out at Nablus sought to reaffirm the “moral purity” of the crusader states, and
their separate religious identity and discourage close mixing between the Franks and
Muslims.108 In addition to restrictions of Muslims from wearing European-style clothing,
103
Usama Ibn Munqidh, The Book of Contemplation, 153.
Dajani-Shakeel, “Natives and Franks,” 175; Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 333.
105
Setton, A History of the Crusades, vol. 5, 45; Dajani-Shakeel, “Natives and Franks,” 175.
106
Dajani-Shakeel, “Natives and Franks,” 175.
107
Asbridge, The Crusades, 178; Phillips, The Crusades, 33; Benjamin Kedar, “On the Origins of the
Earliest Laws of Frankish Jerusalem: The Canons of the Council of Nablus, 1120,” Speculum 74, no. 2
(Apr., 1999), 324.
108
Kedar, “On the Origins of the Earliest Laws,” 322.
104
154
it also prohibited sexual relations between Christians and Muslims.109 The prohibition on
shared clothing was likely meant to serve a similar purpose as the prohibition on sexual
relations, to prevent “inadvertent” intimacy, or convergence, between faiths (see
below).110 By the time of the 1240 Livre des Assises des Bourgeois these laws were no
longer operative. They were a response to the calamities that had befallen the crusader
states before 1120 (particularly at the Field of Blood) and were an attempt to restore what
was perceived as a sinful Christian population back to faith and consequently back into
God’s favour through a distancing of themselves from Muslims. 111
Just as the Franks asserted their dominance by mandating the clothing that could be worn
by their subjects, they also maintained some outward physical divergence themselves, so
that, even though they adopted the clothing of the East, they remained visibly distinct
from their subjects. The men of the Levant wore beards while Western European
crusaders, as well as settlers, tended to go clean shaven. An anonymous pilgrim in the
Holy Land sometime before 1187 recorded of the Franks, “They are warlike men,
practised in arms, are bareheaded and are the only one of all these races who shave the
beard.”112 Exceptions to this rule included pilgrims who would let their beards grow as
they travelled, which led to some being killed by friendly fire when the crusaders
conquered Antioch. Templars, as part of their order’s regulations, also kept their beards.
This made them highly visible in battle as members of a military order, making them
109
Kedar, “On the Origins of the Earliest Laws,” 313-14; Asbridge, The Crusades, 177-8, 183; TalmonHeller, “Muslims and Eastern Christians,” 45. Men who violated the law were castrated and women were
subjected to their noses being cut off (rhinotomy). It is unclear however if the punishments set forth were
ever carried out.
110
Kedar, “On the Origins of the Earliest Laws,” 324.
111
Asbridge, The Crusades, 178.
112
Translated in Stewart, “Anonymous Pilgrims,” 27; Ciggaar, “Adaptation to Oriental Life,” 268-70;
Baha’ al-Din, The Rare and Excellent History of Saladin, 173.
155
more vulnerable upon capture, but also making them potential targets of friendly fire in
battle, when mistaken for a Muslim. Jacques de Vitry provides an exemplum of a pilgrim
being captured by the enemy. His beard suggested he was a Templar but he denied it.
Eventually he decided he was willing to be martyred and confessed to being a Templar
and was duly killed.113 The Franks converged towards certain elements of life in the East,
often out of necessity, but the importance of their Frankish identity, both politically and
religiously, caused them to institute policies and traditions that kept them separate from
their Muslim subjects.
Though adopting some of the physical trappings of the culture of the East, the Franks
retained a separate identity from their Muslim subjects. As seen with both the crusaders
and members of the military orders, what provided one of the most significant group
identities for both the Franks and the Muslims was their religious identity. There were
some Muslims who were accepted into this identity, and this came through conversion to
Christianity. One of the ways this acceptance was expressed was through intermarriage
between Latin Christians and Muslim converts. Through intermarriage, Muslims also
brought with them some of the physical trappings of Eastern life, as mentioned above.
Intermarriage accounted for some of the differences noted by contemporary writers
between settlers whose families had spent a few generations in Syria and new immigrants
who were less familiar with the customs and lifestyles of the Muslims of the Levant. 114
113
Ciggaar, “Adaptation to Oriental Life,” 271, 278, original Latin text provided on 282.
Dajani-Shakeel, “Natives and Franks,” 175; Ciggaar, “Adaptation to Oriental Life,” 267; Bar-Tal,
Group Beliefs, 75-6; Giles, Coupland, and Coupland, “Accommodation Theory,” 11.
114
156
Intermarriage between Franks and native Christians (Greeks, Armenians) was relatively
common.115 Sources are less clear on the rate of intermarriage between Franks and
Muslims, though some did occur, particularly between Frankish men and Muslim women
who had converted to Christianity. 116 The religious identity of both parties remained
important, and sources suggest conversion was an important factor in intermarriage, for it
brought the spouse into one of the most significant group identities of their partner.
Intermarriage appears to have been more common in early sources, but by the thirteenth
century it was more restricted.117 The French chaplain of Baldwin I, Fulcher of Chartres
(1059-1127), in encouraging Westerners to come settle, wrote of settlers who were
already in the Levant, “For we who were Occidentals have now become Orientals…Some
have taken wives not only of their own people but Syrians or Armenians or even Saracens
who have obtained the grace of baptism.”118 While Fulcher suggests early settlers were
accepting of such pairings, the council of Nablus in 1120, as mentioned above, was more
condemnatory of the possibility of intermarriage. After the Frankish defeat at the Field of
Blood in 1119, the council prohibited many kinds of fraternisation with Muslims,
including sexual contact between Franks and Muslims. 119 With both of these sources, it is
difficult to know how much is a reflection of actual experience, or how much they are
115
Asbridge, The Crusades, 177-8; Setton, A History of the Crusades, vol. 5, 46-7.
James A. Brundage, “Marriage Law in the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem,” in Outremer: Studies in the
History of the Crusading Kingdom of Jerusalem, ed. B. Z. Kedar, H. E. Mayer and R. C. Smail (Jerusalem:
Izhak Ben-Zvi Institute, 1982), 263; Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 351.
117
Brundage, “Marriage Law,” 263.
118
Translated in Fulcher of Chartres, Fulcher of Chartres: A History of the Expedition to Jerusalem 10951127, trans. Frances Rita Ryan (Knoxville: The University of Tennessee Press, 1969), 271.
119
Jonathan Phillips, The Crusades 1095-1197 (London: Pearson Education, 2002), 33; Asbridge, The
Crusades, 178; Talmon-Heller, “Muslims and Eastern Christians,” 45. For the relevant Latin text of the
council of Nablus see Kedar, “On the Origins of the Earliest Laws,” 331-334. Male transgressors were to be
castrated, while females who consented were to have their noses cut off.
116
157
trying to encourage or discourage a practice that may or may not have been already
happening in significant numbers.
The theologian Gratian (d. c. 1159), in his work the Decretum, acknowledged the
theological possibility at least of a marriage between a Christian and a Muslim. He
asserted that if one party converted and the other did not, the marriage remained valid, as
long as the spouse lived “peaceably” with the newly converted spouse.120 It is possible
that the children of such a union were still considered legitimate, though the Church and
law disapproved of such unions.121 In the first decades of crusading, this theological
standpoint reflected the possibility of convergence and inclusion into the group identity
of a spouse between the Franks and Muslims through intermarriage, as Fulcher of
Chartres recorded.122 By the mid-thirteenth century, though, this attitude appears to have
waned, with the Franks putting a more divergent emphasis on their relations with
Muslims, asserting their superior position in the crusader states.123
Muslim sources also provide few examples of marriage between Muslims and
Christians.124 However, Usamah provides a few stories of intermarriage. In his accounts,
these marriages fail for the Christians refuse to converge completely, clinging to their
120
Muldoon, “Tolerance and Intolerance,” 120.
Brundage, “Marriage Law,” 263; Beugnot, RHC Lois II, 107.
122
Brundage, “Marriage Law,” 263.
123
Brundage, “Marriage Law,” 262-3; Prawer, Crusader Institutions, 208; Beugnot, RHC Lois II, 107. In
the Livre des Assises des bourgeois, a law book from c. 1240, a previously obsolete Constantinian law was
reintroduced into the kingdom of Jerusalem, prohibiting the marriage of a free person with an unfree or
freed person. In the laws of the kingdom, Latin Christians could not be enslaved, so persons who were in
the second category were almost exclusively Muslims, Jews or Oriental Christians, not Latin Christians.
James Brundage suggests this law was brought back into existence to prevent the marriages of Franks to
members of the indigenous populations. The Assises implied, much like Gratian, that such marriages
between Christians and heretics were valid but not licit. It is possible that the children of such a union were
still to be considered legitimate, though the Church and the law were disapproving of such unions.
124
Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 350-1.
121
158
Frankish Christian identity. 125 In one story a pretty captive Frankish serving girl married
an emir. She had a son who, upon the emir’s death, was made lord. Despite her status and
wealth, the woman returned to the Franks to marry a shoemaker, preferring a lowly
Christian to an important Muslim.126 Another captive woman had a son who converted
and was granted a position as a stonecutter and a marriage to a devout Muslim woman.
The man had two sons with the woman. He took them with him, returning to his own
people, and converting back to Christianity. 127 While it appears intermarriage happened,
the success of such marriages appears often to have been dependent on the genuine
conversion of one member to the faith of the other, not something that could be relied
upon. When conversions did happen, it appears there was often distrust as to the
genuineness of the conversion, and whether the conversion would last.
The Turcopoles were a distinct group that developed in part at least out of intermarriage
between Franks and indigenous populations.128 The name was derived from Greek and
means “Sons of Turks.”129 They appear to have been archers and light horsemen who
used the techniques of Turkish fighters. While some were Muslims who had converted to
Christianity, many were the children of interracial marriages, usually a Christian father
and a native mother.130 Usamah identifies the Turcopoles simply as archers for the
125
Usama Ibn Munqidh, The Book of Contemplation, 142; Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic
Perspectives, 351.
126
Usama Ibn Munqidh, The Book of Contemplation, 142-3.
127
Usama Ibn Munqidh, The Book of Contemplation, 143.
128
Murray, “Ethnic Identity,” 63; France, The Crusades and the Expansion, 140; France, “Crusading
Warfare,” 62; Dajani-Shakeel, “Natives and Franks,” 174.
129
King, Rule Statutes and Customs, 48n.
130
Alan Forey, “The Military Orders, 1120-1312,” in The Oxford Illustrated History of the Crusades, ed.
Jonathan Riley-Smith (New York: Oxford University Press, 1995), 190; Smail, Crusading Warfare, 112,
179; Riley-Smith, The Knights of St John in Jerusalem, 124, 325; Murray, “Ethnic Identity,” 63; DajaniShakeel, “Natives and Franks,” 174. Yuval Harari, “The Military Role of the Frankish Turcopoles: A
159
Franks, while the Itinerarium Peregrinorum describes them as native auxiliaries.131 Both
the Hospitallers and the Templars employed Turcopoles, who made up a significant
portion of the orders’ forces but were not officially brothers of the order. 132 They were
commanded by a Turcopolier. For the Templars this position started as a subordinate one
under the marshal. For the Hospitallers, by the records of the chapter general in 1330, the
position of Turcopolier was one of the high officials.133 For the Turcopoles and those who
worked with them, their ethnic identity played a lesser role to their religious one. Upon
conversion, they were brought into the community of Christendom, and their primary
allegiance became to those with whom they shared a faith.
In rural areas of the Levant, Muslim peasants had more limited contact with Franks, and
therefore more limited opportunities for convergence as well. However, similarly to
crusading nobility, the elite Franks engaged in more direct and extensive contact with the
Muslim nobility and merchant classes within the cities. The group identity provided by
nobility, and chivalric virtues, again caused a horizontal split in society, where nobility
offered a point of convergence, regardless of religious or ethnic identity.
One of the places where elite Franks came into contact with Muslim neighbours was in
the bathhouse. The bathhouse provided a place to cleanse in a hot climate, but, more than
that, it provided a place for entertainment and relaxation. For Muslims, bathing was part
Reassessment,” Mediterranean Historical Review 12, no. 1 (1997): 75-116. While many historians suggest
an ethnic component to the Turcopoles, Harari suggests the term was strictly a military category and not an
ethnic one.
131
Usama Ibn Munqidh, The Book of Contemplation, 61; Nicholson, The Chronicle of the Third Crusade,
258.
132
Nicholson, The Knights Hospitaller, 76; Nicholson, The Knights Templar, 118.
133
Riley-Smith, The Knights of St John in Jerusalem, 230, 325; Nicholson, The Knights Templar, 118;
Nicholson, The Knights Hospitaller, 72.
160
of their daily religious practices, as well as the bathhouse being a place to socialize and
entertain guests.134 When the Franks first arrived in the Levant, there was a stereotype
among the native Muslim populations that the Franks lacked basic hygiene. 135 The
Frankish nobility challenged this stereotype, adapting to the climate and cultural
traditions and availing themselves of bathhouses frequented by locals. 136 It appears,
though, that they may have brought some changes to the bathhouse culture, such as
challenging the strict segregation of sexes, which would have been a shock to Muslims. 137
Usamah related stories of experiences between Franks and Muslims in bathhouses in
passages typical of adab literature. They provided instruction and entertainment to the
reader, while not being bound strictly to what today would be considered truth, presenting
dichotomies meant to instruct the reader. He suggested that some Franks confirmed all
bad stereotypes of the Franks and did not abide by the customs of the bathhouses. He tells
of a Frankish man who admired the Muslim men’s shaved pubic hair, and insisted a
Muslim man do the same for himself and his wife. This man breached conventions and in
a very inappropriate way. Usamah asserted that the Franks lacked a sense of honour and
propriety.138 In another tale, Usamah provides a counterpoint, in which another Frankish
man breaks convention, but does so for honourable reasons. He tells of a Frankish man
who brought his daughter to the bathhouse to wash her hair, for her mother had died and
there was no one to help her. While the man was doing something that would normally be
considered improper, Usamah’s assessment of the man was that he was honourable, and
134
Ciggaar, “Adaptation to Oriental Life,” 264-5, 267.
Ciggaar, “Adaptation to Oriental Life,” 264-5; Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 272.
136
Ciggaar, “Adaptation to Oriental Life,” 264-5; Al-Muqaddasi, The Best Divisions for Knowledge, 152;
Buckley, The Book of the Islamic Market Inspector, 104-7. Bathhouses were governed by a Muhtasib, or
inspector governed by hisba manual (best practice) to ensure cleanliness and modesty were maintained.
137
Ciggaar, “Adaptation to Oriental Life,” 262.
138
Usama Ibn Munqidh, The Book of Contemplation, 149; Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic
Perspectives, 279.
135
161
would receive a heavenly reward for his actions.139 The bathhouse became a point of
contact between Franks and Muslims, where there was social convergence, as well as
spatial, though it was not without some adjustment for the Muslims as Franks challenged
many of the conventions of the space.
The Franks were engaged in war with the Muslims often, and the Franks did consider
surrounding Muslim forces to be enemies, but the chivalric identity and attitude of the
Frankish and Muslim nobility caused them to prioritize horizontal relationships with
fellow elites over solidarity with those of their own faith at times. One of the ways they
socialized was through hunting together.140 Usamah includes an entire section of his book
recounting episodes of hunting, including with the Frankish nobility. In one instance
King Fulk of Jerusalem (1131-43) invited the emir Mu`in al-Din and Usamah to hunt in
Acre. While there the emir met a Genoese man who had with him a hunting goshawk and
dog. The emir fancied the animals and asked the king to give them to him – a request
which was duly granted.141 While the Franks did not abandon the need for holy war, or
the necessity of the protection of the Latin states, when they were not directly involved in
war they prioritized their chivalric identity and personal relationships with Muslims in a
horizontal structure over the prescriptive beliefs of their faith that discouraged such
friendly interactions.142
139
Usama Ibn Munqidh, The Book of Contemplation, 149-50; Ciggaar, “Adaptation to Oriental Life,” 262.
Talmon-Heller, “Muslims and Eastern Christians,” 45; Friedman, “Gestures of Conciliation,” 45.
141
Usama Ibn Munqidh, The Book of Contemplation, 205-6; Jacoby, “Knightly Values,” 164.
142
Jubb, “The Crusaders’ Perceptions,” 234; Jubb, “Enemies in the Holy War,” 253; Bar-Tal, Group
Beliefs, 3, 16-17.
140
162
Another group in the Levant who possessed an identity that challenged the primacy of
religious identity were the merchants who came to trade in the Levant, establishing
flourishing centres of commerce. Merchants from Italian city states responded to the call
to crusade, much like other Christians, and offered ships and fought in campaigns as well.
But, their identity as merchants challenged this religious military assistance, particularly
since merchants from city states such as Naples, Amalfi, and Venice had already
established trade routes with Muslims in the Middle East and North Africa before the
First Crusade.143 With the crusades these routes expanded and became even more
lucrative. Merchants developed trade relations with Muslims, trading with them in times
of war, even trading military goods to them. Merchants developed a professional identity
based on trade, and this identity led them to convergent accommodation with Muslims,
which sometimes threatened crusading endeavours, despite their religious faith and their
support of crusading ventures.
Italian merchants did respond with concern for the welfare of the Latin states and the
crusading movement, involving themselves in crusades out of religious devotion, though
some historians have suggested they acted solely out of economic motives. 144 While
many rulers granted them trading privileges due to their role in the crusades, it was not
their sole motivating factor.145 The Italians committed resources and ships to a movement
143
David Abulafia, “The Role of Trade in Muslim-Christian Contact during the Middle Ages,” in The Arab
Influence in Medieval Europe: Folia Scholastica Mediterranea, ed. Dionisius A. Agius and Richard
Hitchcock (Reading: Ithaca Press, 1994), 4; Michel Balard, “Notes on the Economic Consequences of the
Crusades,” in The Experience of Crusading, 2: Defining the Crusader Kingdom, ed. Peter Edbury and
Jonathan Phillips (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 233-4.
144
Abulafia, “Trade and Crusade,” 1-2, 5, 19; Abulafia, The Great Sea, 290; Balard, “Notes on the
Economic Consequences,” 233.
145
Abulafia, The Great Sea, 290; Balard, “Notes on the Economic Consequences,” 233; Abulafia, “Trade
and Crusade,” 1-2, 5, 11-13; 19; Abulafia, “The Role of Trade,” 5; William of Tyre, A History of Deeds
163
whose outcome was unknown, and potentially disastrous, without being guaranteed an
economically beneficial outcome. They were willing to risk great financial loss for the
sake of the crusades and their fellow Christians.146 During the Second and Third
Crusades, Italians assisted crusaders transporting armies and goods to the Levant. Once
there they joined the crusading armies against the Muslims. In preparation for the Third
Crusade King Philip of France used the Genoese to bring his army by ship to the East. 147
In the initial siege of Acre Venetians and Genoese made up some of the first combatants,
along with the barons of King Guy of Jerusalem.148 The Pisans were also actively
involved in the siege, protecting the shores, and blockading the city, a position they were
assigned for their skills at sea.149 In exchange for their assistance, the Pisans received a
promise from King Guy for many trading privileges and properties on the island of
Cyprus.150 The Italian merchants identified with the religious goals and beliefs of the
crusading movement, but their identity as professional merchants did see potential
advantages to be had as well.
Italian merchants had a longstanding trade relationship and identity with Muslims,
extending to before the crusades. Amalfitan, Pisan and Genoese merchants had all traded
Done, vol. 1, 552-6; Benjamin of Tudela, The Itinerary, 49, 38, 62. Historians are not the only ones to be
critical. The contemporary Jewish merchant Benjamin of Tudela on his trip through the Near East between
1159/60 to 1173 criticized Italian merchants of Venice, Genoa and Pisa for being too focused on their own
economic gain to prevent the Muslims from harming Outremer. He was also critical of the competition
between the republics when they attacked locations for their spoils, as well as one another. “Venetian
Treaty,” in The Crusades: A Reader, ed. S. J. Allen and Emilie Amt (Peterborough, ON: Broadview Press),
2003, 91-3. In 1124 the Venetians were granted extensive property, trading rights and their own courts in
exchange for previously rendered assistance to the kingdom. William of Tyre lays out the privileges they
received.
146
Abulafia, “Trade and Crusade,” 1; Abulafia, The Great Sea, 290; Tyerman God’s War, 265-6; Phillips,
The Second Crusade, 9-10.
147
Ambroise, The Crusade of Richard the Lion-Heart, 46.
148
Roger of Wendover, Flowers of History, vol. 2, 69.
149
Nicholson, The Chronicle of the Third Crusade, 69-70.
150
Edbury, The Conquest of Jerusalem, 120.
164
extensively with the Fatimids of North Africa, and after 969 with Egypt. By 1060 the
Amalfitans had also gained rights to work within Jerusalem.151 These relationships
carried on into the crusades. Italian merchants engaged in extensive trade with
neighbouring Muslim states, even during periods of war. At times their merchant identity
conflicted with their identity as potential crusaders, and took precedence over it. In some
instances, they can be seen to be working directly against the best interests of the
crusader states. This included trading war materials to neighbouring Muslim states. In
1154 the Pisans confirmed a treaty with the Egypt, providing the Fatimids at Alexandria
with timber, iron and pitch. In return they received alum to trade in the West. In 1156
King Baldwin III of Jerusalem (1143-63) tried to win over the Pisans by offering
privileges in exchange for them quitting trading goods and arms to Egypt. The Pisans
refused because Alexandria was a large trading hub, providing access to extensive trade
routes.152 By the 1170s, the Venetians and Genoese had also begun extensive trade with
Egypt, including goods used in war materials and arms.153 In these cases the merchants
appear to have identified more strongly with their professional identity, and converged
151
Balard, “Notes on the Economic Consequences,” 233-4; Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic
Perspectives, 395-6; William of Tyre, A History of Deeds Done, vol. 2, 241-2. The Geniza documents, a
collection of documents found in a synagogue in Fustat (Old Cairo) dating from the tenth to fourteenth
centuries, reveal extensive Mediterranean trade between East and West during this period. For more
extensive information on the Geniza documents see S. D. Goitein, A Mediterranean Society, 6 vols
(Berkeley: University of California Press, 1967-1993).
152
Jacoby, “The Supply of War Materials,” 106; Abulafia, “Trade and Crusade,” 14, 16. The extent of the
contacts provided through Alexandria can be seen in the list compiled by Benjamin of Tudela of the
merchants he encountered in the port from around the world. “Alexandria is a commercial market for all
nations. Merchants come thither from all the Christian kingdoms. On the one side, from the land of Venetia
and Lombardy, Tuscany, Apulia, Amalfi, Sicilia, Calabria, Romagna, Khazaria, Patzinakia, Hungaria,
Bulgaria, Rakuvia (Ragusa?), Croatia, Slavonia, Russia, Alamannia (Germany), Saxony, Danemark,
Kurland? Ireland? Norway (Norge?), Frisia, Scotia, Angleterre, Wales, Flanders, Hainault? Normandy,
France, Poitiers, Anjou, Burgundy, Maurienne, Provence, Genoa, Pisa, Gascony, Aragon, and Navarra.
And towards the west, under the sway of the Mohammedans: Andalusia, Algarve, Africa, and the land of
the Arabs. And on the other side India, Zawilah, Abyssinia, Lybia, El-Yemen, Shinar, Esh-Sham (Syria);
also Javan, whose people are called the Greeks, and the Turks. And merchants of India bring thither all
kinds of spices, and the merchants of Edom buy of them.” Benjamin of Tudela, The Itinerary, 134.
153
Jacoby, “The Supply of War Materials,” 107.
165
with Muslim traders, which at times potentially undermined the political success of the
crusader states by aiding the war effort of the Fatimids and later of the Sunnis under
Salah al-Din by providing war materials.154
The Franks possessed political control of the crusader states, but their population always
remained a minority compared to that of the indigenous inhabitants, with historians
suggesting their numbers equalling approximately a third of the indigenous inhabitants.
In the 1180s the subject population is estimated to have numbered between 300,000360,000 while the Franks likely numbered around 100,000-140,000.155 This affected their
outlook towards the viability of holy war, the way they lived their daily lives and where
they worshipped. It also affected their practices concerning trade. The Franks did not
radically change the economic structure that was already established in the Levant, but
rather converged towards the existing economic structure, preserving it and working
within it, maintaining the rural workforce and trade structures. 156 This structure allowed
merchants to foster a professional identity that often seems to have taken precedence over
their religious identity. The crusader states possessed centres of trade where there were
merchants of many different religions and ethnicities, including Franks, indigenous
Christian and Muslim populations from within the crusader states, and to a more limited
154
Abulafia, The Great Sea, 297; Abulafia, “Trade and Crusade,” 17; Balard, “Notes on the Economic
Consequences,” 235.
155
Kedar, “The Subjected Muslims, 148; Ellenblum, Frankish Rural Settlement, 31; Riley-Smith, The
Crusades: A Short History, 51.
156
David Jacoby, “The Economic Function of the Crusader States of the Levant: a New Approach,” in
Europe’s Economic Relations with the Islamic World, 13th-18th Centuries, ed. Simonetta Cavaciocchi
(Firenze: Le Monnier, 2007), 169; David Jacoby, “The Fonde of Crusader Acre and its Tariff: Some New
Considerations,” in Dei gesta per Francos: Etudes sur les croisades dédiées à Jean Richard/Crusade
Studies in Honour of Jean Richard, ed. Michel Balard, Benjamin Z. Kedar and Jonathan Riley-Smith
(Aldershot: Ashgate, 2001), 287.
166
extent, Muslims from inland Muslim centres of trade such as Damascus.157 Significant
port cities, including Tyre, Antioch, Tripoli, and Acre, provided a multi-ethnic, and
multi-faith, environment, where merchants from around the world came to trade their
goods.158
In Acre, the largest port city of the Franks, merchants of many faiths, immigrants,
crusaders, and pilgrims all intermingled. In the port cities, such as Acre, merchants of
many identities were gathered together, with the Franks expressing a relative tolerance
for the presence of other faiths. Oriental Christians continued to live in Acre after its
conquest by the Franks in 1104. No permanent Muslim community existed, but a few
Muslim merchants were granted an aman (safe conduct) to establish a residence in the
city.159 Italian merchants, including Pisans, Genoese, and Venetians, had their own
quarters in the city, having received privileges from the Franks. 160 When Ibn Jubayr came
through Acre he observed of the city, “It is the focus of ships and caravans, and the
meeting-place of Muslim and Christian merchants from all regions. Its roads and streets
are choked by the press of men, so that it is hard to put foot to ground.”161 The Franks,
especially merchants, exhibited spatial and economic convergence, working within close
quarters with Muslims for the economic benefit of the Frankish states, allowing their
157
David Jacoby, “Aspects of Everyday Life in Frankish Acre,” Crusades 4 (2005): 90; Abulafia, “Trade
and Crusade,” 15; Jacoby, “The Fonde of Crusader Acre,” 279.
158
Jacoby, “Aspects of Everyday Life,” 86; Ibn Jubayr, The Travels of Ibn Jubayr, 301; Abulafia, “The
Role of Trade,” 6.
159
“Meanwhile, sailors were proceeding on their usual courses to Acre. Some carried merchandise and
others pilgrims, people from all over the Christian world.” Nicholson, The Chronicle of the Third Crusade,
35. Jacoby, “Aspects of Everyday Life,” 73, 84-6; Dajani-Shakeel, “Some Aspects,” 198.
160
Abulafia, The Great Sea, 325.
161
Translated in Ibn Jubayr, The Travels of Ibn Jubayr, 318.
167
merchants to sell their wares, and to bring in necessities and luxuries for the crusader
states.
The Franks allowed merchants from many different faiths to trade in the crusader states,
converging to the system that had been previously established. The identity provided by
the merchant profession, encouraged a mingling for the greatest economic benefit. They
diverged in their accommodations when it came to the power structure, however, for
there was still separation of merchants of different faiths within the system. This system
placed Latin Christians in the most privileged positions, with other faiths below. When
goods arrived at the city by land they were taxed by the funda/fonde (market) based on
the type of product, as well as the ethnic and religious origin of the merchants. 162 When
Christian merchants entered Muslim territories they faced a similar taxation process.
When Ibn Jubayr, the Arabic traveller, travelled with a group of merchants to the
Frankish city of Acre, he seemed to accept this system without hostility. Upon his arrival,
the bags of the caravan he was travelling in were inspected and the appropriate taxes
applied, “with civility and respect, and without harshness and unfairness. 163 The Frankish
merchants used their professional identity to work in close quarters with Muslims, and in
a generally peaceful fashion. However, the religious identity of the Franks in the crusader
states set up a structure in which, while working closely, merchants were still separated
by their religious beliefs, and treated accordingly.
162
Prawer, The Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem, 403, 407. See Beugnot, RHC, Lois II, 173-8; and “The Taxes
of the Kingdom of Jerusalem.” Internet Medieval Sourcebook, last modified November 4, 2011,
http://www.fordham.edu/Halsall/index.asp, for a listing of the kinds of items and rates of taxation in the
Kingdom of Jerusalem.
163
Translated in Ibn Jubayr, The Travels of Ibn Jubayr, 317-18; Dajani-Shakeel, “Some Aspects,” 197-8;
Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives, 401-2.
168
With so many religious and ethnic groups gathered into one place, courts were
established to deal with the inevitable disputes that arose. 164 In these courts, as in the
wider social strata of society, religious identity provided the criteria by which
stratification took place. Latin Christians were placed at the top of the hierarchy, the
Syrian Christians slightly below, with Jews and Muslims falling at the bottom of the
social rungs. Once again, the Franks placed non-Latin Christians outside of their group
identity. Merchants dealt with the Cour de la Fonde, or the Market Court. The Market
Court was granted jurisdiction over all commercial matters as well as over all civil and
criminal matters concerning non-Franks within the city, with the exception of matters that
fell under the jurisdiction of the High Court.165 Muslims and Jews were placed in a
legally inferior position as they lacked any representation on the jury. The court was
presided over by six jurors: four native Syrians and two Franks, with a bailli (a knight or
a burgess) presiding over them.166 Though sources are limited, it seems in Acre, and
perhaps in other places, this court eventually replaced the Cour des Syriens (see above for
more detail) which ruled Muslim populations and was headed by a Muslim ra’is.167
164
Richard, The Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem, 127-8, 131; Setton, A History of the Crusades, vol. 5, 258;
Riley-Smith, “Government and the Indigenous,” 130. The Cour de la Fonde was the court system that dealt
most extensively with inter-religious conflict. Two other major courts existed in the Frankish states that
dealt more exclusively with Frankish inhabitants. Burgess Courts (Cour des Bourgeois) dealt with
commercial and criminal matters between Frankish burgesses and between Franks and Italians, Muslims or
Syrian Christians where the latter were the plaintiffs. These courts were comprised of 12 jurors who were
selected by the king or the local lord. Within this court members of different faiths swore on their own holy
book (ie. Jews swore on the Torah, Muslims on the Qur’an and native Christians, including Syrians,
Armenians, Greeks or Nestorians, swore on the Gospels). The High Court (Haute Cour) dealt with cases in
the royal domain dealing with cases between knights or between knights and burgesses.
165
Jacoby, “The Fonde of Crusader Acre,” 287, 289; France, “The Second Crusade,” 66; Riley-Smith, “The
Survival in Latin Palestine,” 15; Beugnot, RHC, Lois II, 171-3.
166
Richard, The Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem, 139; Kedar, “The Subjected Muslims,” 164-5.
167
Riley-Smith, “Some Lesser Officials,” 7; Prawer, Crusader Institutions, 366; Richard, The Latin
Kingdom of Jerusalem, 139; Beugnot, RHC, Lois II, 171-81. By the time the Livre des Assises des
169
In general, the Franks appear to have resisted engaging in much intellectual convergent
accommodation with Muslims. Historians have suggested a few reasons for this lack of
intellectual interaction. First, there were few intellectuals who arrived with the crusaders,
while most Muslim intellectuals left the crusader states when they were conquered. Of
those who remained, many were separated by a language barrier.168 The religious identity
possessed by both sides also led to each often dismissing the other as being less culturally
or religiously advanced than themselves.169 One area where the Franks found some
intellectual common ground with Muslims counterparts, however, was in the profession
of medicine. As mentioned in the last chapter, at this time Arabic medical knowledge,
through Arabic and Greek medical literature, was starting to make its way to Europe
through Spain and Sicily, centres of learning and translation, as well as through
translation centres in the Latin East.170 While sources are unclear as to the extent to which
physicians were in contact with one another, it is clear that not only Hospitaller
physicians, but also other Frankish physicians adopted common practices, customs, and
in some cases common treatment to their fellow Muslim doctors, suggesting some
intellectual contact and accommodation occurred.171 The group identity provided by
medical practice gave a direct challenge to religious identity, lessening its centrality, and
allowing in this case a more extensive exchange of intellectual knowledge.
Bourgeois was written between 1240-33, non-Latin Christians, Jews and Muslims were all dealt with by the
Cour de la Fonde.
168
Talmon-Heller, “Muslims and Eastern Christians,” 45, 47; Daftary, “The Isma’ilis,” 34; Asbridge, The
Crusades, 177.
169
Talmon-Heller, “Muslims and Eastern Christians,” 45, 47; Asbridge, The Crusades, 179; Cipollone,
“From Intolerance to Tolerance,” 29-31; Talmon-Heller, “Muslims and Eastern Christians,” 45, 47.
170
Woodings, “The Medical Resources and Practice,” 268; Edgington, “Oriental and Occidental
Medicine,” 191; Mitchell, Medicine in the Crusades, 211.
171
Mitchell, Medicine in the Crusades, 26, 207; Edgington, “Oriental and Occidental Medicine,” 189, 191.
170
As was seen in the previous chapter, from the eleventh century onwards, Greek and
Arabic texts began to make their way into the consciousness of Western Europeans,
leading to more of an interest in curing patients, rather than simply caring for them. 172
The Franks also inherited translation centres in Tripoli and Antioch, and through these
centres, Arabic medical knowledge became increasingly accessible to Frankish
doctors.173 Many European scholars came specifically to use these facilities. For example,
Stephen of Pisa was one such scholar who came to Antioch between 1126 and 1130 and
translated al-Majusi’s kitab al-malaki (Complete Book of the Medical Art), into Latin as
Regalis Dispositio (The Royal Arrangement).174 Through these texts, medical knowledge
that had been lost to the European world was reintroduced, and allowed Frankish doctors
to build upon their base knowledge of classical medicine.
The depth and extent of knowledge possessed by Muslim medical professionals is evident
from the testing they were required to undertake to practice medicine. Since the eleventh
century, most Muslim hospitals required doctors to be licensed. Medicine was treated as a
trade and doctors were regulated by a muhtasib, an official who was appointed to oversee
the practical and moral management of Muslim markets.175 The regulations for the
muhtasib were laid out in hisba manuals, which laid out best practice and the knowledge
that was expected of medical practitioners. Regulations were included for a variety of
medical professionals, including apothecaries, those who made syrups; phlebotomists and
172
Edgington, “Medical Care in the Hospital of St John,” 33; Mitchell, Medicine in the Crusades, 210-11.
Mitchell, Medicine in the Crusades, 206; Edgington, “Oriental and Occidental Medicine,” 197.
174
Mitchell, Medicine in the Crusades, 26, 207; Edgington, “Oriental and Occidental Medicine,” 197.
175
Buckley, The Book of the Islamic Market Inspector, 1; Toll, “Arabic Medicine,” 41; Sterns, “Some
Aspects,” 94.
173
171
cuppers; as well as physicians, eye doctors, bone setters and surgeons.176 The manual
required that all physicians be tested on Hunyan b. Ishaq’s The Trial of the Physician, and
Galen’s The Trial of the Physician. Eye doctors were to be tested on Hunyan b. Ishaq’s
The Ten Treatises of the Eye. Bone setters were to know Paul’s sixth book of the
Kunnash and surgeons were to have knowledge of Galen’s Qatajanus and the book alZahrawi wrote on wounds.177 Only those who could prove sufficiently to the muhtasib
that they had knowledge of these books as well as a practical knowledge of their chosen
specialty were to be allowed to practice.
Before the crusades Europeans had no such licensing practices, but by the 1140s Frankish
doctors were starting to be licensed, and by the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries it had
become common practice. This was a practice likely adopted from Muslims, who, by
949, required all physicians to be licensed.178 In the 1240-44 Livre des Assises de la Cour
des Bourgeois, the Frankish licensing practice was similar to that of Muslim
physicians.179 All doctors, of any religion, from outside the kingdom were to be tested by
local doctors and the bishop to ensure they had the necessary theoretical and practical
knowledge to practice medicine safely. 180 Once the doctors were licensed, they were to be
overseen by an official called a mathessep. This post appears to have been an adoption of
176
Mitchell, Medicine in the Crusades, 223; Buckley, The Book of the Islamic Market Inspector, 65, 76,
108, 114.
177
Buckley, The Book of the Islamic Market Inspector, 116-117.
178
Mitchell, Medicine in the Crusades, 222-4; Woodings, “The Medical Resources and Practice,” 269;
Sterns, “Some Aspects,” 93-4.
179
Susan B. Edgington, “Medicine and Surgery in the Livre des Assises de la Cour des Bourgeois de
Jerusalem,” Al-Masâq 18 (2005): 87; Woodings, “The Medical Resources and Practice,” 269; Edgington,
“Oriental and Occidental Medicine,” 204. The Assises were written by a burgess of Acre. They were
originally believed to represent the laws of the kingdom from its inception in 1099 to 1187. It is unclear if
these laws do reflect this earlier period, or if they reflect the laws as they stood at the time of the
document’s writing in 1240-44.
180
Edgington, “Medicine and Surgery,” 95-6; Edgington, “Oriental and Occidental Medicine,” 204. For the
full text of chapters 236 and 238 of the Assises on physicians see Beugnot, RHC Lois II, 164-66, 167-69.
172
the role of the Muslim muhtasib.181 In the practice of licensing, it can be suggested the
Franks were assimilating Muslim practices into their own medical profession.
Medical professionals of different religions usually worked separately, but sources do
make reference to physicians of one faith engaging in convergent accommodation and
treating patients of another.182 Some Franks were willing to be treated by non-Latin
physicians.183 While Franks could have consulted Latin doctors, they appear at times to
have preferred Jewish, indigenous Christian and Muslim physicians, in addition to Latin
ones. Some Latins prioritized the skills of Muslim, and other non-Christian doctors, over
their commitment to their Christian identity. 184 William of Tyre disapproved of this,
being critical of the skills of non-Latin doctors, and believing Franks were putting
themselves in danger by using them. When Baldwin III received a physic from the Syrian
physician Barac, he developed fever and dysentery, leading to his death. William blamed
Barac for Baldwin’s death, “for our Eastern princes, through the influence of their
women, scorn the medicines and practice of our Latin physicians and believe only in the
Jews, Samaritans, Syrians and Saracens. Most recklessly they put themselves under the
care of such practitioners and trust their lives to people who are ignorant of the science of
medicine.”185 But not all Franks felt this way, and they seem not to have been restricted
181
Edgington, “Medicine and Surgery,” 91; Mitchell, Medicine in the Crusades, 225-26. The role of the
mathessep is laid out in an abrégé, or abridgement, Beugnot attaches to the Assises. See Beugnot, RHC
Lois II, 236-44.
182
Giles, Coupland, and Coupland, “Accommodation Theory,” 7-8.
183
Kedar, “The Subjected Muslims,” 160; Sterns, “Some Aspects,” 94.
184
Edgington, “Oriental and Occidental Medicine,” 199; Bar-Tal, Group Beliefs, 43, 58.
185
Translated in William of Tyre, A History of Deeds Done, vol. 2, 292. “Nostri enim Orientales principes,
maxime id efficientibus mulieribus, spreta nostrorum Latinorum phisica et medendi modo solis Iudeis,
Samaritanis, Syris et Sarracenis fidem habentes, eorum cure se subiciunt inprudenter et eis se
commendant, phisicarum rationum prorsus ignaris.” Guillaume de Tyr, Chronique, 859.
173
to using Latin physicians. Rather, doctors could work fluidly among faith groups. 186
When King Amalric got dysentery and a fever, he first looked to Greeks, Syrians and
other physicians for treatment. They refused, possibly because of the harsh fines that
existed for the failure to treat a free man successfully, particularly the king. 187 Only after
their refusal did he look to a Latin physician, agreeing to take responsibility for any failed
treatment.188 The Franks appear to have sought out physicians of other faiths and creeds,
suggesting a trust in the skills and knowledge of these practitioners.
Muslims possibly had more extensive medical knowledge, but they do not appear to have
believed all Latin Christian doctors to be without skill. Usamah provides stories of
Frankish doctors who do lack skill, but also a doctor who provides care beyond Usamah’s
knowledge. Usamah records how his uncle sent Thabit, a Syrian Christian physician, to a
friend whose companions needed a doctor. He was assigned two patients, a knight with
an abscess in his leg for whom he made a poultice, and a woman who was experiencing
dry humours for which he changed her diet, to increase her wetness. While he was
treating them a Frankish physician came and insisted on changing the treatment. The
Frank had the knight’s leg amputated, and insisted the woman was suffering from a
demon in her head and so shaved it and returned her to her regular diet. This caused her
humours to become dry again and she became worse. In response he cut the shape of a
cross into her skull and rubbed the exposed area with salt. In both cases the patient
186
Mitchell, Medicine in the Crusades, 33; Edgington, “Medical Care in the Hospital of St John,” 28.
William of Tyre, A History of Deeds Done, vol. 2, 395; Woodings, “The Medical Resources and
Practices,” 270. For the list of fines to be found in the Assises see Beugnot, RHC Lois II, 164-69. For an
English translation see Edgington, “Medicine and Surgery,” 92-96.
188
William of Tyre, A History of Deeds Done, vol. 2, 395.
187
174
died.189 This view seems to support Usamah’s general opinion that the Franks possessed
less skill than physicians from Syria and Palestine.190 While these were drastically
unsuccessful treatments, Usamah also acknowledged observing Frankish physicians who
saved their patients. A Frankish knight, Bernard, was kicked in the leg and the wound
festered, continuing to open in different places. A Frankish physician took away the
ointments being used to cover it, and instead washed the leg in vinegar and the leg closed
and healed. In another successful case an artisan from Shayzar, Abu al-Fath, had a son
suffering from scrofula on his neck that saw sores form repeatedly. While in Antioch, a
Frankish man offered Abu al-Fath a cure for his son’s illness, if he promised to share it
with others and not demand payment. Abu al-Fath agreed and the man gave him the
remedy, which worked on his son, as well as for Usamah in treating others.191
Muslim and Christian physicians engaged in the intellectual convergent accommodation
that was so often missing from other forms of contact between both faiths in the Levant.
Frankish physicians learned much from Muslim doctors, using Arabic and Greek medical
texts that had been lost to the Western world, and adopting the practice of licensing,
based on the Muslim model. Muslims also appear to have had some trust in the skills of
Latin doctors, for they too were not unwilling to be treated by them.
When the Franks came to settle in the Levant they brought with them the same beliefs,
attitudes and behaviours as those crusaders who only stayed temporarily. Over time,
however, the settlers developed a new identity that separated them from their crusading
189
Usama Ibn Munqidh, The Book of Contemplation, 145.
Ciggaar, “Adaptation to Oriental Life,” 264-5.
191
Usama Ibn Munqidh, The Book of Contemplation, 146.
190
175
counterparts, and their European identities, forming a distinct ‘Frankish’ identity. This
identity was separate from the crusaders, but it was also unique from the Eastern cultures
and peoples they lived amongst. The surrounding Muslim powers were still viewed as
enemies, and the Franks were not averse to fighting in holy wars when necessary. To a
greater extent than the crusaders, however, the Franks found continual holy war to be
untenable and unwanted. They were more willing to engage in treaties and truces to bring
an end to disputes, or to prevent them from breaking out in the first place. In large part,
this was because the Franks were always a minority population, and rarely had the
manpower to fight extensively. They relied on truces for their survival, and turned to the
West for aid when situations were truly beyond their capabilities. In regards to their own
subjects, the Franks adopted a policy of relative tolerance and convergence, keeping
many of the political and administrative structures the Muslims had established, but
placing themselves at the top of this new hierarchy. What differentiated the social strata
of the Levant was the religious identity of each group. They also adopted many of the
physical elements of Eastern culture, including food, clothing, and housing. What
generally eluded the Franks was a deeper intellectual convergence with their subjects, as
their religious identity mostly prevented this. Where greater convergence can be found is
within competing group identities. Elite nobles developed a social relationship with other
Muslim nobles, and merchants traded extensively with Muslims both within and around
the crusader states. The greatest intellectual accommodation occurred through the
practice of medicine.
176
CONCLUSION
This study has argued that the crusaders who came from Europe to the Holy Land
between 1145 and 1192 possessed a wide variety of identities, influenced by their
ethnicity, language, political affiliations, and personal loyalties. They came to the Levant
for a wide variety of reasons as well: to engage in holy war against the infidel as penance,
to come on pilgrimage to worship at Jerusalem, for adventure, or to start a new life.
However, most crusaders did share a religious identity that encouraged a common goal:
to protect the Holy Land, the land where they believed Jesus had lived, performed his
miracles, and brought salvation to all believers through his death and resurrection, from
the Muslim infidel. This meant maintaining the land that had already been conquered, and
fighting to reclaim what had been lost, in particular, during the Third Crusade, the city of
Jerusalem. The Latin Christians possessed strong prescriptive religious beliefs that
identified the Muslims as a distinct and enemy ‘other’ who threatened their protection
and possession of the Holy Land. This otherness placed the Muslims firmly outside of the
Christian identity, and identified them as a legitimate target for holy war. However, this
study argues that when the Christians arrived in the East, and they came into contact with
actual Muslims, the religious identity that prescribed holy war was challenged by other
identities that prized contact and convergent accommodation over divergent warfare, and
by a lessening in the centrality of the commitment to holy war in their religious identity,
due to other concerns based on the actual situations encountered in the East and the
realization that continued warfare was not always practical or desirable. Despite the
convergent accommodation that occurred, the religious identity of the crusaders, military
177
orders and Franks remained one of the primary factors in their attitudes and behaviours to
Muslims. This meant that complete inclusion into any of these communities ultimately
required conversion, something that was not a priority, and so remained limited.
The majority of crusaders served in the Levant for only a few years at most, fulfilling
their vows and returning to Europe. Because of this, their encounters with Muslims in the
East were far more restricted than those who remained for more extended periods of time
or settled permanently, and therefore their views of Muslims as religious enemies were
less open to challenge through direct contact. The brevity of their stay also limited the
forms of contact with Muslims the crusaders experienced. Most of their encounters with
the Muslim ‘other’ were through military encounters – including raids, direct warfare or
sieges – all primarily divergent forms of accommodation, forms of accommodation that
accentuated the differences between groups, and reinforced their own group identity.
Limited contact in a hostile fashion was particularly true of common soldiers. However,
the elite of both Muslims and Latin Christians did come into direct contact more
frequently, and through this contact created instances of convergent accommodation,
accommodation where actions and attitudes encouraged similarities within the interaction
between groups. Envoys and diplomats negotiated treaties and truces between armies,
and, at times, these negotiations were even carried out by rulers themselves. Through
these diplomatic meetings a convergent language of gestures and symbols was developed.
The development of this shared system opened the door to successful diplomacy and
times of peace. For elites an additional point of contact was created through the
development of the system of chivalry, which was an important secondary identity for
178
many elite crusaders. By the twelfth century chivalry was not only a way to identify
trained knights, but had developed into a way of living that valued the skill and bravery
of a knight on the battlefield, and character virtues such as generosity off the battlefield.
Admiration of a fellow knight crossed religious boundaries, and crusader elites felt great
respect for a courageous warrior, regardless of their religion.
Contact between the military orders and Muslims was more complex than between short
term crusaders and Muslims. The military orders combined monastic life with knighthood
into a profession dedicated to the protection of the crusader states, which led to inherent
tensions in their own organizations and in the way they responded to contact with
Muslims. For the Templars the military element was always their focus, whereas the
Hospitallers started as a charitable organization. Members of the Templars and
Hospitallers also served longer terms of service than crusaders, and belonged to
organizations that had a permanent presence in the crusader states. This increased the
amount and type of contact they had with Muslims, increasing opportunities for both
divergent and convergent accommodation. As members of religious orders, they took
their role as defenders of the Holy Land seriously, and became some of the fiercest
enemies the Muslims faced. By the last quarter of the twelfth century they were often
treated with far more violence by Muslims than other Christians, frequently being
slaughtered upon capture instead of held for ransom along with other captives. This
contact was largely divergent and hostile. Yet, as permanent organizations in the East, the
military orders were more aware of the necessity of convergent accommodation with
Muslim foes than their short term crusader counterparts, a fact that brought them much
179
criticism from the West. While crusaders came to the East to assist the crusader states for
short periods of time, the majority of the time there was a shortage of manpower for
adequate protection. In such circumstances the orders saw the benefit of converging and
negotiating with Muslims and forming truces, allowing them to protect the land already
in Christian possession. In some cases, they even developed friendships with elite
Muslims, challenging their religious identity, and reflecting a chivalric respect for fellow
elites, such as that between the Templars and the Arab Syrian Usamah Ibn Munqidh.
Their contact with Muslims was also not limited to the Muslim military and elite. Both
the Templars and Hospitallers owned estates worked by Muslim peasants and slaves. The
orders experienced a good deal of peaceful spatial convergence. These workers were
given a relative degree of tolerance by the orders, being allowed to retain their own faith.
Though committed to the protection and defence of the Holy Land, the orders were
pragmatic in their overall contact with Muslims, allowing for accommodation and contact
when the overall safety and security of the Latin states were preserved by doing so. The
roots of the Hospitallers as a charitable order dedicated to the care of pilgrims and the
poor also challenged the militant nature of the order. The Hospitallers dedicated
themselves to the care of all who needed it, as their Christian duty, and this included the
care of Muslims. In addition, the Hospitallers engaged in limited intellectual convergence
with Muslim medical colleagues, adopting much of their extensive medical knowledge
and practices.
The settlers who chose to stay permanently in the Levant and start a new life there
developed a new identity, collectively identifying themselves as Franks, regardless of
180
where they had originated from in Europe. The Franks retained a strong Christian identity
and desired to control the holy places of the East, leading to divergent accommodation, in
the form of holy war and the military protection of the crusader states, often working in
tandem with crusaders, but the way they dealt with Muslims was one of the ways this
new society differentiated itself from their original European identity. Latin Christians
who chose to settle permanently in the Levant experienced the most extensive, as well as
the most varied, contact and convergent accommodation with Muslims. In the contact
between settlers and Muslims, trends of convergence that began with the crusaders were
intensified. For the settlers, constant warfare was not only impractical, it was undesirable.
Though most settlers chose not to live in Muslim-populated areas, but in or near areas of
traditional Eastern Christian habitation, this did not prevent them from coming into
contact with their Muslim subjects regularly. The settlers moved into the rural,
agricultural lands of the Levant, lands that bordered traditional Muslim settlements, not
just remaining in urban centres, as some historians have argued. Many of the elites also
served as overlords to Muslim peasants, working with intermediaries like a ra’is or
dragoman to run their estates. The permanent residents of the crusader states did not
interfere greatly in the lives of their subjects though. They converged with the resident
population by maintaining many of the administrative structures that had previously
existed, allowing the Muslims to continue working the land as well as maintaining their
Muslim faith, only demanding from them taxes, including produce from their lands, as
past Muslim overlords had done with their subjects. Convergent spatial accommodation
was also experienced between Christians and Muslims at certain sacred sites. Many
sacred spaces were considered to be spiritually significant for both Christians and
181
Muslims. While at times this created great tension and divergence, sometimes including
violence, as was the case periodically over the possession of Jerusalem, at many other
sites both faiths were permitted to come and worship together. Another way convergence
was experienced between Christians and Muslims was through the creation of identities
that competed with the prescriptive religious identity of both faiths. Merchants from the
Italian city states and the crusader states engaged in extensive trade with neighbouring
Muslim states, even at points during times of war. While they valued the goals of the
crusaders, often risking their ships and lives in the crusader causes, they also benefitted
greatly from the trading privileges they received from the crusader states, and used these
to their full advantage. This included providing Muslims with raw materials to make
weapons and ships with Muslim states, even during times of war between Christian and
Muslim states. One of the identities that provided the greatest intellectual convergent
accommodation between Muslims and Latin Christians was through the practice of
medicine. Frankish doctors gained much medical knowledge from Muslims, and adopted
their practice of licensing physicians to ensure those who practiced in the crusader states
had the requisite knowledge. There were even some physicians who treated patients of
other faiths, a seemingly accepted practice, though some questioned the wisdom of this.
While the Franks engaged in more extensive convergent accommodation than any of the
other groups studied, there remained limits to this accommodation. The religious identity
of the Franks remained one of the most important identities, and ultimately restricted the
amount of accommodation that could be undertaken.
182
Despite being bound together by a common Christian identity, this study recognizes that
the many Europeans who came to the East all belonged to many different groups, as well
as having their own distinct individual identities. They identified themselves not just as
followers of the same faith, but also by the rulers they followed, the languages they
spoke, and the geographic regions from which they came. At times these loyalties
superseded religious or crusading goals. The Muslim world was likewise possessed of
more than one competing identity. Dynasties such as the Abbasids and Fatimids, or
branches of Islam, including Sunnis and Shi’ites, as well as various offshoots such as the
Assassins or Bedouins, defied groups coming together as a single Muslim identity. These
competing loyalties at times drove different groups to act in ways that were seemingly
counterproductive to their faith, including encouraging members of Christianity and
Islam to work together in opposition to members of their own faith to achieve their own
goals, goals that were not necessarily those of all Christians or Muslims. Yet, despite the
varied motivations that drove people, this study asserts that there were some group
identities that can be found to act in a relatively unified way, and that can provide insights
into the identity of those in the East and their actions in relation to the ‘other.’
This study has followed the conclusions of recent historians such as Hillenbrand in
arguing that to understand the actions and beliefs of crusaders we must rely on Muslim as
well as Christian sources and perspectives. Until recently, the focus of the study of
crusader and Muslim contact was placed on the crusaders and other Christians, with
Muslims being analyzed only for the impacts the crusades had upon them. More recently
historians have been acknowledging that the Muslims were active members in encounters
183
with Europeans and have been considering the nature and forms of divergent and
convergent accommodation from Muslim perspectives and sources in addition to
Christian ones. This study has relied on a wide range of sources from both Christian and
Muslims perspectives, including chronicles, travel literature, letters and sermons to help
reduce the potential distortion that exists due to the propagandist nature of many of the
chronicles and other sources that survive from the crusades. In this study the examination
of both Christian and Muslim texts has been particularly useful in the study of the
relationship between elite members of crusader and Muslim society, and in the discussion
of the contact between settlers and Muslims.
While this work builds on studies of the military orders and crusader states which have
flourished since the 1950s, it fills an important gap in focusing extensively on the
interactions of the orders and settlers with Muslims. The focus of researchers has often
been directed towards the governance and running of the orders and the Latin states, with
less detailed consideration of how they interacted with the Muslims within or surrounding
the crusader states. Those studies that have looked at such interactions have tended to be
relatively limited in scope. This study has taken a more comprehensive approach to the
question of the nature of accommodation between Muslims and Latin Christians in the
Levant, dealing exclusively with the issue and addressing the wide range of Latin
Christian groups that had contact with Muslims and the variations in the way they chose
to engage in those interactions. This study aims to build on the understanding of the ways
in which the military orders and settlers developed outside of Europe, studying how they
interacted with the surrounding Muslim cultures and those they came to rule over
184
politically. This is important not only to show the ways that the military orders and
settlers adapted and changed their way of life in comparison to their fellow Christians
who came as only short term crusaders, but also how their contact with the Muslims
peoples in the Levant changed the way they viewed Muslims and interacted with them –
how their contact led them at times to accommodate with, rather than fight, those who
had originally been their sworn enemies.
The many groups of Latin Christians who arrived in the Levant all found their religious
identity as members of Christendom, challenged upon their arrival in the Levant. In the
face of a radically different geographic, political and social landscape from that of
Europe, those that remained for a longer time accepted the need for convergent
accommodation with Muslims, and acknowledged the benefits to be had from such
accommodations. Overall though it appears that the only way truly to enter the
community of Christendom or Islam was through a genuine conversion. Such
conversions did happen, but they appear to have been relatively rare, with most cases of
conversion being a matter of necessity and convenience, to avoid captivity or death in
warfare, rather than true conviction. The religious identity of the Christians and Muslims
appears to have offered one of the strongest identifiers when it came to interacting with
members of another faith. In all three Latin Christian groups, divergent behaviours and
attitudes never totally disappeared from responses to Muslims, but relative convergent
accommodation and tolerance developed over time. True understanding and acceptance
of the other, though, was rarely achieved.
185
Overall this study advances the discussion of the different group identities that made up
the Latin Christians who came to the East in connection with the crusading movement,
and the way contact between Latin Christians and Muslims between the Second and
Third Crusades shaped the attitudes and behaviours of Christians towards Muslims,
leading to both divergent and convergent accommodation. It has suggested that all
individuals hold many different, and sometimes competing, identities, and that it was the
tension between these identities that helped shape the way Christians responded to those
perceived to be an ‘other’ and outside of their communities. Contact with Muslims and
the realities of life in the Levant challenged the prescriptive religious beliefs and hostility
that crusaders arrived with. Through more intensive contact more forms of convergent
accommodation were achieved, though deeper intellectual understanding and acceptance
remained limited as long as religious identities were adhered to, with conversion
ultimately being the only path to true acceptance.
186
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