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Showing posts with label High Court of Jerusalem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label High Court of Jerusalem. Show all posts

Saturday, April 4, 2026

Barons, Knights and the High Court: The Powerful Vassals of Outremer

 If the kings of Jerusalem were only "first among equals," then logically the barons and knights of Outremer were the equals of their king. Although things weren't quite that simple, the feudal elite in the crusader states enjoyed considerable privileges and on the whole a greater say in the affairs of state than did their contemporaries in the West.

 


In the crusader states, there were a variety of different kinds of fiefs. There were land fiefs (‘fié en terre’) familiar from Western Europe where a knight received one or more rural village (casal), producing sufficient income to finance the maintenance of one or more knights (i.e., the knight[s], including their squires, horses, arms and armour). In the crusader states, however, there were also several money fiefs (‘fié en besans’). These likewise ensured that a knight had sufficient income to maintain himself, horses, equipment and status, but the income was derived from royal revenue. This could be a stipend directly paid from the king’s treasury, similar to a retainer for household knights, but in this case, hereditary. Or it might be something more exotic, such as the tribute owed by the Bedouins, or the revenue collected from markets or bazaars, or a portion of the income from economic monopolies such as salt extraction. It was common across the crusader states for individual knights to have mixed fiefs, that is, to draw income from both land and money fiefs, a practice that suggests knights sought to diversify revenue streams for their financial security. Such diversification was also applied geographically after the conquest of Cyprus. Nearly all lords (and probably many knights) held fiefs on the mainland and Cyprus.

Another unique feature of fiefs in the Holy Land was that there were many ‘sergeantries’, that is, fiefs owing not knights’ service, but rather service of a sergeant. Many of the ‘sergeantries’ were held by non-immigrant and non-Latin tenants. Finally, the laws of the crusader states distinguished between traditional fiefs granted or inherited and fiefs of conquest (‘fié de conquest’). While the former had to be bequeathed to the rightful heirs in accordance with the laws of the land, fiefs of conquest could be disposed of at will, bypassing legal heirs. One generation later, however, they were no longer viewed as fiefs of conquest and had to pass to the legal heirs.

The inheritance laws in the crusader states were shaped by the overriding imperative to ensure an adequate military force for the defence of the realm. To prevent the concentration of fiefs in one pair of hands with the effect of denying the kingdom needed fighting men, the inheritance of more than one fief was initially prohibited. However, the laws were soon modified to allow a man to inherit and hold more than one fief, on the condition he could meet all feudal obligations by financing knights for the fiefs he did not represent in-person. This could be done through sub-enfeoffing, i.e., creating ‘rear vassals’ or retaining knights (hiring knights for wages). It was common practice for a knight holding multiple fiefs to divide them among his heirs at his death, but this was not a legal requirement. An alternative was for the knight to designate his eldest son as his heir and for the heir to enfeoff his siblings as rear-tenants. Significantly, however, an heir who was physically or mentally incapable of rendering military service could be passed over in favor of a sibling.

Surprisingly for states so dependent upon feudal service for defence, female inheritance was recognised and rigorously upheld. The explanation is likely the exceptionally high mortality rate among men, which often made women the standard-bearers of their families. However, an heiress between the ages of 12 and 60 was required to have a husband capable of performing military service. If not already married, heiresses 12 and older were summoned by their lord and given a choice between three candidates of comparable rank. Refusal to marry one of these candidates theoretically resulted in the loss of the fief for one year and a day, after which the process was repeated. In practice, some heiresses, such as Constance of Antioch, got away with rejecting candidates without forfeiting their fiefs.

The duties of vassals in Outremer were first and foremost military service, and unlike in England, military service could not be commuted to a monetary payment (scutage). Furthermore, fief-holders were required to be physically present in the kingdom; absence of more than one year resulted in forfeiture — again to ensure they would meet feudal obligations. Military service in the Holy Land could be commanded for up to one year, a length of service far in excess of the usual forty days familiar from England and France. Military service included garrison duty for castles and cities and mustering with the feudal army for mobile operations.

Non-military feudal obligations included maintaining law and order within the realm by participating in inquiries into crimes, delivering summonses and providing counsel to pleaders and defendants before the lower courts. Last but not least, vassals holding knight’s fiefs (but not sergeantries) were required to participate in the government of the realm by sitting on the High Court, which is significant and unique to the crusader kingdoms. In most kingdoms, only selected or elected representatives of the knightly class sat in parliament. In the Kingdoms of Jerusalem and Cyprus, on the other hand, the number of knights was sufficiently small for all to be required to give council via the High Court. Thus the thirteenth-century jurist Geoffrey Le Tor wrote:

All liege-knights of the king … are peers, whoever they are, high or low, poor or rich … they protect one another in their rights and maintain one another in law and also as they are called upon to act as counsel, to give judgements and issue recorts. And the speech of one carries as much force as that of any of the others.[i]

 The concept of all knights being equal can be traced back to the reign of Amalric I. In a move to increase royal power over the magnates, King Amalric I introduced the ‘Assise sur la ligece’, which required the so-called rear vassals, the vassals of the prominent ‘tenants-in-chief’, to do ‘liege-homage’ to the king in addition to the homage they gave to their direct overlord. ‘Assise sur la ligece’ also gave the king the right to demand fealty from the rear vassals and effectively force them to abandon their direct overlord in the event of disputes between the king and his great vassals. However, it also had the collateral effect of making rear vassals peers of the realm, entitled to sit on the High Court and raise issues directly before the king. 

Legal scholars agree that the High Courts of Jerusalem and later Cyprus were more powerful than the parliament in England during this period. La Monte summarised the High Court’s powers as follows:

It included within its sphere of activity the modern departments of executive, legislative, and judiciary. Its word was law … and the king who endeavored to act without the advice of, or contrary to the decisions of, his High Court found himself confronted with a legalized rebellion on the part of his subjects.[ii]

 Specifically, the High Court elected the kings, determined the regents of minors and selected the consort of heiresses to the crown. Furthermore, the High Court controlled the ‘purse strings’ because its approval was required for levying taxes. Likewise, no treaty was valid without the High Court’s consent. It oversaw the registration and transfer of all feudal property and — curiously — horses. It settled disputes concerning the forfeiture and inheritance of fiefs. It served as the jury in cases indicting any member of the court (i.e., any fief-holder in the kingdom, including the king) for criminal offensives such as murder, rape and assault, and in cases of feudal law, such as the default of service or homage. Last but not least, it tried all cases of high treason.

Strikingly, under the leadership of the rebel barons, Balian of Beirut and his cousin Philip de Montfort (the latter a cousin of Simon de Montfort, the English parliamentary reformer), non-nobles were invited to attend a session of the High Court in June 1242. Thereafter, the military orders, Italian communes and other confraternities took part in more than a half-dozen political assemblies with a quasi-parliamentary character.

Despite this trend towards expanding the franchise in the formal structure of the High Court, political reality made some vassals a little more equal than others. In the hands of powerful lords, the prominent frontier baronies were virtually free of royal control. They administered justice within their territories, they minted their own coins, and most importantly, they conducted independent foreign policy. This happened in 1186 when the Count of Tripoli and Prince of Galilee (by right of his wife) made a separate truce with Saladin. It explains why Reynald de Châtillon refused to compensate the crown for violating a truce signed by King Guy, with words to the effect that he was lord of his land just as Lusignan was lord of his.[iii] Possibly, Lusignan’s attempt to curb the autonomy of his great magnates led to their intense hostility to him. The problem re-emerged in the thirteenth century when Mamluk pressure mounted, and royal authority decayed under the absentee Hohenstaufen and Angevin kings. Once again, the barons began to make separate treaties with their enemies, disregarding the interests of the kingdom as a whole.

Finally, a last note on the High Court of Jerusalem: while much has been made of the fact that non-Franks could not bring charges against the feudal elite in the High Court, this was not a discriminatory privilege but rather the consistent application of the fundamental concept of judgement by one’s peers. Those outside the feudal elite could bring charges against vassals before the Cour de Bourgeois. If the jury here found the evidence of wrong-doing sufficient to indict a member of the feudal elite, the case was then referred to the High Court, where the defendant had to answer the charges and submit to a judgement by his/her peers.[iv]

 In Cyprus, in contrast, the power of vassals’ power was greatly reduced. Surrounded by water rather than hostile states, there was no need for marcher baronies, massive fortifications, or large garrisons and feudal armies. To be sure, vassals owed feudal service, but in practice, it was rarely required, so even the most celebrated magnates had no independent armies with which to defy the king. Yet there was one anomaly about the barons of Cyprus: most of them held titles derived from lordships they had once held on the mainland. For example, the Lord of Beirut was one of the foremost landowners in Cyprus. The same is true for the Lords of Caesarea and Arsur, the Count of Jaffa and others. However, it appears their Cypriot fiefs, rather than being geographically consolidated, were scattered across the island, similar to the situation in England after the Norman conquest. Without a territorial base, disaffected barons were in no position to either rebel or conduct independent foreign policies.



[i] Geoffrey Le Tor, quoted in Jonathan Riley-Smith, The Feudal Nobility and the Kingdom of Jerusalem, 1174-1277 (London, Macmillan, 1973), 13.

[ii] See note 2, La Monte, Feudal Monarchy in the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem, 87.

[iii] Peter Edbury, Law and History in the Latin East (Farnham: Ashgate, 2014), II-53.

[iv] Edbury, Peter. Law and History in the Latin East. [Farnham: Ashgage, 2014] VI, 236.

 

The bulk of this entry is an excerpt from Dr. Schrader's comprehensive study of the crusader states.

Dr. Helena P. Schrader is also the author of six books set in the Holy Land in the Era of the Crusades.

                         


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Wednesday, August 15, 2018

A Kingdom Divided

 In his introduction to Downfall of the Crusader Kingdom: The Battle of Hattin and the Loss of Jerusalem W.B Bartlett writes

During the latter decades of the twelfth century, Outremer was sleepwalking to disaster. Seemingly oblivious to the dangers of a resurgent Islam, the kingdom began to split apart. The nobles who governed with the king sought to outmaneuver one another, seeking to raise themselves up and bring their political opponents down.

This is by no means an isolated view, and most modern fiction about the period has followed the portrayal whether it is Cecilia Holland’s Jerusalem in which, according to the New York Times review, she brings to life the “atmosphere of conspiracy, betrayal…and political intrigue….” or Ridley Scott’s “Kingdom of Heaven” in which the fictional Tiberius condemns the struggles for power and land that he claims corrupted the ideals of the Holy City.
I question this interpretation.

The character of Tiberius, loosely based on Raymond of Tripoli, in the film "The Kingdom of Heaven."

But let’s be realistic. There has never been a kingdom or state that has been entirely without factions — not even totalitarian dictatorships.  To expect a state to have perfect harmony and unity is not merely idealistic, it is naive. Where there is power, there will be differences of opinion on policy, and where there are competing policy options there will be factions — usually aggravated by personalities, rivalries and the prospect of personal gain associated with proximity to power or the execution of one policy over another.

It is, in short, absurd to expect the Kingdom of Jerusalem to be without factions supporting competing policies.  Whether these can be divided into “hawks” and “doves” or “insiders” and “outsiders” is not the issue here. The fact is that the mere presence of advisors advocating competing policies and/or even passionate rivalry between powerful noblemen in a medieval kingdom is neither unusual nor inherently self-destructive.

The question is whether the divisions within the Kingdom of Jerusalem in the second half of the twelfth century mortally crippled the kingdom to the point where the threat posed by Salah-ad-Din was ignored.  Let's look at the historical record.
The Arms of the Kingdom of Jerusalem

Although it is safe to say that no kingdom on earth would have welcomed the ascension of a man suffering from leprosy, the High Court of Jerusalem took no longer than usual to recognize Baldwin IV as his father’s heir.  Furthermore, a powerful regent was rapidly installed who peacefully surrendered the keys to the kingdom to the leper prince when he turned fifteen. No sign of exceptionally destructive factions here, despite the explosive situation of a leper boy being heir to the throne.

Just a little over a year after Baldwin IV came of age, the Kingdom of Jerusalem faced the first full-scale invasion led by Salah-ad-Din.  The Count of Tripoli, the Hospitallers and hundreds of other knights from the Kingdom were at the time laying siege to Hama in Syria; Salah-ad-Din invaded from Egypt and immediately invested Ascalon. It was a very dangerous situation. The sixteen-year-old king, with no experience of battle whatsoever, gathered his forces — some 376 knights — and rode to the relief of Ascalon. He then broke out of Ascalon, met up with a Templar force from Gaza and called up the army of Jerusalem. And they came. At Montgisard, under Baldwin IV’s personal leadership, the Christian army dealt Salah-ad-Din a devastating and humiliating defeat. The bulk of the Saracen army was killed or captured, and Salah-ad-Din barely escaped on a pack camel. Nothing about this suggests a kingdom divided against itself — nor blind to the threat posed by Salah-ad-Din.

A Depiction of Montgisard, Copyright Fireforge Games

The very next year, King Baldwin ordered the construction of a castle at Jacob’s Ford — a clear indication that he recognized the threat posed by the Kurdish leader. Two years later, during the next invasion by Salah-ad-Din, Baldwin again successfully mustered his forces and successfully broke the Saracen vanguard.  Unfortunately, the Templars (who were not under Baldwin’s command) were routed by Salah-ad-Din’s main forces at the same time. When the Templars fell back, the entire Christian army withdrew. While the Templars lack of coordination is certainly to be condemned, it has nothing to do with internal rivalries or factions among the barons of Outremer.

The first hint of serious internal divisions surfaces in 1180. According to William Archbishop of Tyre, who was chancellor to Baldwin IV and so not only a contemporary but an insider, Baldwin IV’s illness had taken a dramatic turn for the worse by this time. It was clear, therefore, that the crown of Jerusalem would pass through Baldwin’s older sister Sibylla to whoever her husband might be; Sibylla in 1180 was a twenty-year-old widow. 

Sibylla as depicted in Ridley Scott's "The Kingdom of Heaven"

For whatever reasons (and they are controversial), the Baron of Ramla and Mirabelle with the backing of the Count of Tripoli and the Prince of Antioch considered himself the best candidate for Sibylla’s hand, but Sibylla — with or without her brother’s consent — married a young French noblemen of dubious character, Guy de Lusignan. 

Now Guy de Lusignan was a younger son with no title or wealth, and, more important, he had allegedly been expelled from the realm and territories of Baldwin IV’s first cousin, Henry II Plantagenet, for killing the Earl of Salisbury by stabbing him in the back.  Not a very savory character, to say the least, and I submit it is entirely understandable that the barons of Jerusalem did not think him a suitable man to become their liege lord — not to mention be crowned in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and wear a crown of gold where Christ had worn a crown of thorns…..

The Church of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem today.

And yet! The uproar did not tear the country apart. To be sure, Ramla refused to do homage to the new Count of Jaffa (the title given by Baldwin to his sister’s husband) — but he still brought his troops to muster at each of the subsequent invasions by Salah-ad-Din — as did the other barons. Admittedly, in 1182 during the full-scale invasion that led to the battle at La Forbelet, Baldwin IV was still personally in command of the army, leading from a litter. But a year later, in September 1183, Baldwin IV had officially abdicated his authority, retaining only the title of King, the city of Jerusalem and an annual income of 10,000 gold pieces, while naming Guy de Lusignan regent.  Yet the barons of Jerusalem all mustered — even Tripoli and Antioch and Ramla. It was allegedly the largest army ever mustered by the crusader kingdoms. Indeed, the force was so big that Salah-ad-Din preferred not to give battle and withdrew to lay siege to the castle of Kerak on his way home to Egypt instead.

View from Kerak Castle today.

Nevertheless, something happened here that has escaped the pages of history. William of Tyre had been passed over for the post of patriarch and apparently lost his insider knowledge. He was to die shortly afterward, and with him, we lost our window into what was happening inside the Kingdom of Jerusalem at this crucial moment. But one thing is clear, the barons of Jerusalem refused to go to the relief of Kerak under the leadership of Guy de Lusignan. Baldwin IV — whether reluctantly or furiously — dismissed him from the regency and had himself dragged in a litter all the way to Kerak with his army around him. Salah-ad-Din abandoned the siege rather than face the leper in a liter across a battlefield.

Baldwin IV returned from Kerak determined to find a way to dissolve his sister’s marriage to Guy de Lusignan. Why? Regardless of possible personal slights, the most obvious reason is simply that the barons of Outremer, who had rallied readily enough in September of 1183, were by November of the same year not prepared to follow Lusignan. Baldwin IV knew he could not leave his kingdom in the hands of a man who did not command the respect of the barons. 

So here is a dangerous rift — but hardly one in which the kingdom is “sleepwalking to disaster.” Baldwin IV was obviously acutely aware of the danger. He sent out a desperate, indeed almost pathetic, plea to the most powerful Christian monarchs, the Holy Roman Emperor, the King of France, and the King of England, to come to Jerusalem’s aid. He offered whichever Western monarch would come to the defense of Outremer the keys to the Tower of David, effectively offering to abdicate — and bypassing both his sisters — turn the crown over to whoever would pick up the burden of defending Jerusalem.

The Tower of David in the Citadel of Jerusalem

Baldwin IV’s appeal went unheeded, and so to prevent Guy de Lusignan from becoming king Baldwin had his nephew, Sibylla’s son by her first husband, crowned in his own lifetime as Baldwin V. At Baldwin IV’s death, the crown passed seamlessly to Baldwin V and the Count of Tripoli was named regent by the High Court of Jerusalem. Again, there is amazing unity here.

Unfortunately, Baldwin V died within a year. Defying Baldwin IV’s wishes and without the consent of the High Court of Jerusalem, Sibylla had herself crowned Queen of Jerusalem and then placed the crown on her husband’s head as her consort.  This was a clear “coup d’etat,” a usurpation of the throne. And here — in the summer of 1186 — the Kingdom started to crack.  Faced with a usurpation, a number of barons considered crowning a rival king, the husband of Baldwin IV’s younger sister, Isabella. But the young man, Humphrey de Toron, rejected the role of rival-king and paid homage to Guy de Lusignan.  So, reluctantly, did all the other barons with two notable exceptions.

The key here is that despite a clear case of usurpation, the danger of division was fully recognized. Humphrey de Toron must be credited with putting the well-being of the kingdom ahead of his personal ambitions, and the bulk of the other barons likewise swallowed their distaste of Lusignan and did homage. The two exceptions were the Baron of Ramla, Guy de Lusignan’s erstwhile rival for the hand of Sibylla, and the Count of Tripoli. Ramla took the unprecedented course of turning his entire inheritance over to his younger brother, Balian d’Ibelin, and leaving the kingdom, never to be heard of again. Tripoli simply withdrew to his own territories and concluded a separate peace with Salah-ad-Din.

This was an act that can best be described by the German term “Landesverrat.” In contrast to “Hochverrat” (treason against the state or government), Landesverrat is treason against the nation. Tripoli might have legally been correct not recognize Guy de Lusignan as his overlord, but by allying himself with the man who had vowed to drive the Christians from the Holy Land, he hurt more than King Guy, he hurt all the crusader states and their inhabitants.

The Sea of Galilee, part of Raymond de Tripoli's lands by right of his wife.

King Guy threatened to invade Tripoli’s territories and “force” his submission, but the rest of the Christian leadership — from the Grand Masters of the Military Orders to the Patriarch of Jerusalem — recognized that this was suicidal in the face of Salah-ad-Din’s threat. No one was stumbling blindly to destruction here except, perhaps the two embittered protagonists themselves!  

Guy was prevailed upon to send mediators instead of troops. The Masters of the militant orders, the Archbishop of Tyre and two leading barons, including Balian d’Ibelin, whose brother had been such an inveterate opponent of King Guy, were sent to Tripoli to effect a reconciliation between Tripoli and King Guy. They were ultimately successful.

When Salah-ad-Din again invaded the Kingdom of Jerusalem, Raymond de Tripoli was among the commanders who mustered, bringing with him one of the largest contingents of troops. His voice in the war councils was a voice of reason, but it went unheeded. Despite this — and unlike the fictional characters of Tiberias and Balian d’Ibelin in “The Kingdom of Heaven,” when Guy de Lusignan marched the Christian army out onto the Horns of Hattin, he led the entire army of Jerusalem including Tripoli and Ibelin. To destruction.

In retrospect, perhaps more division would have served the Christian kingdom better. If Raymond de Tripoli (with the men of Tripoli and Galilee) and Balian d’Ibelin (with the troops of Nablus, Ramla, Mirabelle, and Ibelin) had not been at Hattin, the Kingdom — or at least Jerusalem — might have been defensible even after this devastating defeat. But no one believed that the combined forces of Jerusalem could be so poorly led that they would be obliterated by the same man the Leper King had forced to withdraw on no less than five occasions. And had Tripoli and Ibelin failed to muster, they would have been blamed for the defeat. With the benefit of hindsight, we know that Guy de Lusignan alone lost Jerusalem. 

My award-winning biographical novel of Balian d'Ibelin in three parts is set in the Kingdom of Jerusalem in the last quarter of the 12th Century.




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Dr. Helena P. Schrader holds a PhD in History.
She is the Chief Editor of the Real Crusades History Blog.
She is an award-winning novelist and author of numerous books both fiction and non-fiction. Her three-part biography of Balian d'Ibelin won a total of 14 literary accolades. Her most recent release is a novel about the founding of the crusader Kingdom of Cyprus. You can find out more at: http://crusaderkingdoms.com