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Gewalt, Krieg und Geschlecht im Mittelalter

Edited By Amalie Fößel

Gewalt und Krieg sind heute wie auch in der Vormoderne keine ausschließlich männliche Domäne, sondern Räume der Männer und Frauen gleichermaßen. In Zeiten kriegerischer Auseinandersetzungen werden Geschlechterrollen ausgebildet, konforme und abweichende Verhaltensweisen ausprobiert und Konzepte von Männlichkeit und Weiblichkeit entwickelt. Erstmals für die Epoche des Mittelalters (7.-16. Jahrhundert) werden daraus resultierende Fragestellungen im interdisziplinären und kulturübergreifenden Vergleich untersucht. Die Beiträge erörtern Geschlechterbeziehungen auf Darstellungs- und Handlungsebene und beschreiben Interaktionsformen in Kontexten von Gewalt und Krieg. Über den europäischen Raum mit seinen zahlreichen Fehden und Heerzügen hinaus werden auch die Kreuzzüge in den Blick genommen.

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Wax Kings and Apron Strings: William of Tyre’s Gendering of King Baldwin III and Queen Melisende and the 1152 Civil War (Danielle E.A. Park)

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Danielle E.A. Park

Wax Kings and Apron Strings: William of Tyre’s

Gendering of King Baldwin III and Queen

Melisende and the 1152 Civil War

Abstract: The civil war of 1152 was first and foremost a power struggle between a mother and son: the queen and king. For both William of Tyre and the monarchy it was a potentially embarrassing episode that divided family and kingdom. This paper examines how the archbishop construed the civil war through a perspective informed by gender, age, and status.

Gender Theory and Intersectionality

Since Scott’s seminal study on gender, scholars have recognised its significance “as a way of referring to the social organisation of the relationship between the sexes”.1 Breaking away from the narrower focus on women’s studies, gender historians have been concerned with social as opposed to biological differences: how men and women were defined in relation to each other rather than as a synonym for women’s history. There has been a pronounced shift from defining the Middle Ages as a misogynistic period by acknowledging the importance of social rank and place in society alongside gender.2 It is in this spirit that the present paper is written.3 It is my contention that, for William at least, the gender, age, and status ←215 | 216→of both Queen Melisende and King Baldwin III were central to the origins and impact of the civil war of 1152. I will demonstrate how through close analysis of the symbolic language that William of Tyre employed.

Scott advocated thinking about gender in conjunction with other social constructions.4 For her, it was important to acknowledge that the intersectionality between gender, race, and class should not imply that all these factors were equal. As she pointed out class was dependent on Marxist or Weberian theories while gender and race were not defined by a focus on “economic causality”.5 The links between these factors have particularly gained traction since the publication of Crenshaw’s feminist sociological theory that oppressive institutions (racism, sexism, homophobia etc) are interconnected, interdependent, and cannot be separated.6 More recently, scholarship has recognised social status – encompassing ideas of elites, authority, and power – as an identifier.7 Status is especially important for differentiating between individuals and acknowledging that women and men did not share common defining experiences; ←216 | 217→instead scholarship notes fluidity and multiple categories of masculinities and femininities.8 Gender, age, and status have considerable implications for the 1152 civil war. The key players were Queen Melisende, a widow with two male children and her eldest son Baldwin III, a young unmarried king. Both mother and son had a share in King Baldwin II’s will which had named his daughter, son-in-law, and grandson as his heirs.9

The civil war did not solely depend on the male-female dichotomy: Baldwin’s age coupled with his increasingly undermined status within the kingdom of Jerusalem – at the hands of his mother – demanded action.10 He was above the age of minority, was of marriageable age, and a proven, if reckless, military leader. His mother was a widow, discredited among the Ibelin family through her association with Manasses of Hierges – her kinsman and constable, but she had secured the future of the dynasty, and according to William she was a calm and established ruler.11 In contrast, the archbishop saw Baldwin as a pliable youth, ←217 | 218→prone to take advice from the wrong counsellors – potentially a sign of his inexperience as well as William’s use of a familiar trope to apportion blame away from the king and queen. Irrespective of their gender, both saw power as their birthright and the subsequent stalemate resulted in an intergenerational conflict that manifested in political crisis and civil war.


Mayer’s seminal study detailed the deterioration of Melisende and Baldwin III’s relationship through their charters: specifically, her control of the power and prestige of the written word by asserting her own claims and reducing his involvement.12 My purpose in using William of Tyre to interrogate this relationship is not to return to an older scholarship that ignored the place and importance of the charters, but to consider William’s text as a construction of an event that he must have interpreted as deeply embarrassing for the royal family.13 Therefore I will explore how he used the concepts of gender, age and status (as he understood them) to obviate his concerns and, to an extent, exculpate both Melisende and Baldwin.14 This was a tall order but a necessary one. Edbury and Rowe suggest that “Melisende can be seen as an ambitious, scheming woman who clung to power and whose behaviour endangered the stability of the kingdom […] But William did not present her in that light”.15 She was too important as the ←218 | 219→lynchpin of the dynasty.16 I suggest that alongside a woman seeking her right to rule by virtue of her lineage, we should also see the culpability of Baldwin III; having turned 21 in 1151 he was six years over the age of majority and consequently he was an of age king attempting to show his independence, ultimately through violence.17

Aird’s work has implications for this paper since there are a number of similarities between the Anglo-Norman and Jerusalem intergenerational conflicts. However, the stakes were higher since the throne of Jerusalem was on the line and the mother-son conflict entangled the kingdom in a civil war. In contrast, in the case of William and Robert conflict erupted between them on two separate occasions, in 1077–9 and 1083. It is significant for our purposes that Robert would have settled for a duchy – a form of economic autonomy while still remaining under the rule of his father.18 Aird examined this relationship through the narrative sources to provide more complex motives besides the notion of patriarchy; a methodology that can equally be applied to Melisende and Baldwin in light of the similarities between the cases.19 The family dynamic was based on Mosaic Law (“Honour thy father and mother”) a stipulation that both Robert and Baldwin ignored.20 In doing so both went against the notion of a patriarchal society: a successful dynasty needed the heir’s patience and co-operation within the ruler’s household until it was time for him to succeed to the throne in his own right.21 Violently seizing power before the proper time was not supposed to be an option. For Aird and Bennett, military prowess was “only valorised when it was displayed in appropriate contexts and with the required level of caution: in itself, military prowess did not make the man”.22 Siege warfare and wars of attribution were more common than one significant battle and recklessness was not a desirable quality in a potential king.23

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Here it is important to contextualise our main source. From 1120 to 1184 William of Tyre’s is the only Latin account of the so-called Crusader States written in the Levant.24 However, it must be noted that the archbishop was not an eyewitness to Melisende’s reign.25 In fact, he spent most of the period from 1143 to 1165 in the West pursuing his education.26 But the archbishop was an eyewitness to the attitudes of the twelfth century and particularly memories of the royal family.27 He was a trusted and high-profile member of the Latin East government. By the end of 1170, he was tutor to King Amalric’s son (Melisende’s grandson – the future Baldwin IV), in 1174 he was appointed chancellor of the kingdom and by 1175 he reached the pinnacle of his ecclesiastical career when he became archbishop of Tyre. His office as chancellor allowed him access to governmental records and as the archbishop he was second only to the patriarch of Jerusalem as an ecclesiastical official.28 From 1170 onwards he was extremely well-placed to record the key events touching the Levant. For the earlier period, he was less than well-informed.29

The civil war of 1152 between Melisende and Baldwin III was an “embarrassing episode” for the royal family; it detracted from the prestige of the Kingdom of Jerusalem and painted a less than ideal image of the monarchy – one that was at odds with the agenda that underpinned William of Tyre’s work.30 First, he was anxious to encourage men to emulate the glorious deeds of past rulers – three of whom were First Crusaders – second, he was defending the legitimate monarchy from potential charges of sin and corruption.31 He was an “apologist for the dynasty” that the queen was a key member of, which partly explains why William wrote such a pro-Melisende account when his general opinion of women was considerably different. The queen’s sister Alice of Antioch, her niece Constance ←220 | 221→of Antioch, and her erstwhile daughter-in-law Agnes of Courtenay – the first wife of her younger son Amalric I – all came in for considerable censure.32 William, by contrast, glorified Melisende:

The mother, was a most prudent woman having full experience in almost all secular business, overcoming the condition of the female sex so that she set her hand to emulate the magnificence of the great and mighty princes […] For as long as the son was willing to be directed by her advice, the people rejoiced in desirable tranquillity and the business of the kingdom advanced on a favourable course.33

Queen Melisende of Jerusalem was in a significantly different position to earlier queens of Jerusalem – Baldwin I’s wives: first, the so-called Arda (an Armenian noblewoman) and second, Adelaide of Sicily and Baldwin II’s wife Morphia.34 Unlike these women, Melisende was a queen by blood not by marriage, and consequently as the eldest daughter of King Baldwin II of Jerusalem she was the heiress to the kingdom by hereditary right. Thus, in 1131 she and her husband Fulk – the former count of Anjou – succeeded her father. Second, Melisende was a consecrated queen crowned not once but twice – first in 1131, and again when she and her son Baldwin III, then an adolescent of 12 to 13 years of age, were crowned together and he was anointed king following Fulk’s death in a hunting accident in 1143. As a frontier society the Kingdom of Jerusalem had a high rate of female succession, but female rulers could be perceived to be at a significant military disadvantage.35 To combat this in the earlier years of their co-rule ←221 | 222→Melisende had taken advantage of her son’s lack of military prowess.36 After his first successful military campaign to crush a revolt at Wadi Masa in 1144, Baldwin was only associated with the failed military expedition in the Hauran region in 1147 which had undermined his position.37

To consider whether it was more than a power struggle between a man and a woman, we should examine the complexity of the causes of the civil war. Was more at the heart of this matter than a woman prepared to cling to power at all costs? Did Melisende believe that her son was not ready for sole rule?38 William gives this as his impression on several occasions. He frequently juxtaposed Baldwin’s inexperience to his mother’s knowledge and prudence. In the process, William highlighted her mature age and status as opposed to Baldwin’s youth and vigour, which the archbishop believed was hampered by a pliable personality and a tendency to seek advice from the wrong counsellors. Melisende would not be the first mother to have contested an elder son’s rights. Women such as Adela of Blois (c. 1067–1137) were capable of advancing a younger son at the expense of the elder if they felt it advisable.39 When the ruler of Damascus, Shams al-Mulūk (1132–5) attempted to surrender the city to Zengi (1127–46) the people appealed to his mother, Safwat al-Mulk, believing that she could exert her maternal influence to dissuade him. Her attempt at diplomacy failed; such was the extent of her son’s threat to Damascus that she arranged his murder ←222 | 223→and his younger brother, Shihāb al-Dīn was raised to throne. In a sign of the continued maternal role Safwat was expected to fulfil, an oath of allegiance was given to both Shihāb and his mother.40

Here it is important to address the significance of language in William of Tyre’s work. Historians have disputed whether Melisende was the queen regnant or the queen mother or even queen regent. It is an oft-cited point that Melisende’s position as a female ruler was ambiguous but the main obstacle to understanding her status is not her gender but the ambivalence of William’s language when describing her succession and the ceding of plenary royal power.41 By looking more broadly at how he refers to the Kingdom of Jerusalem, we can see that William of Tyre can be equivocal on the contrasts between rulers and regents – for example he refers to the care and administration of the kingdom in both cases ←223 | 224→whether the ruler was temporary or part of the ruling dynasty. However, some general points can be made through an examination of his treatment of the line of succession. Godfrey of Bouillon the first ruler of the kingdom as advocate of the Holy Sepulchre held the royal power.42 Baldwin of Boulogne – Godfrey’s brother – entered the kingdom owed to him by hereditary right and he succeeded his brother in the same care.43 Baldwin of Bourg, Baldwin I’s cousin and count of Edessa was ordained king […] against the laws of hereditary succession because Baldwin’s brother Eustace had the better claim.44 Fulk of Anjou succeeded into royal power […] to whom as aforesaid the king [Baldwin II] had given to wife his first born daughter, by name Melisende.45 Elsewhere William tells us that the same count [Fulk] was solemnly and in accordance with custom crowned and consecrated with his aforesaid wife [Melisende].46 Their son Baldwin III succeeded to royal power […] he was consecrated and crowned with his mother Melisende.47

The importance of ritual can be clearly determined in what marked the difference between a royal and a regent or other official; for example, when Baldwin III married Theodora he conferred the grace of royal anointing on the queen and celebrated the marriage with familiar solemnity.48 Amalric I, Melisende’s second son succeeded Baldwin III receiving the royal power by hereditary right as with the rulers before him, Amalric received the grace of royal anointing and was crowned with royal insignia.49 Equally, Amalric’s son Baldwin IV succeeded by hereditary right.50 Baldwin V was crowned in 1183 despite being a little boy scarcely five years old; the line of succession skipped his mother Sibylla and the child was solemnly crowned and adorned with royal anointing.51 There was a clear difference between regencies and royals through the crown and its symbolism.

The archbishop was consistent in his portrayal of the kings and queens of Jerusalem ruling by hereditary right. Unsurprisingly hereditary right is never used in his chronicon to describe a regent: although strong kinships were common between regents and minors it was an unnecessary qualification. Neither Philip ←224 | 225→of Flanders nor Guy de Lusignan both of whom probably had the closest familial ties to King Baldwin IV were depicted with any sense of hereditary right to the regency: yet Philip was closely related to Baldwin through his mother Sibylla of Flanders (Fulk of Anjou’s daughter from his earlier marriage to Ermengard) and Guy was Baldwin IV’s brother in law (but this close affinity was through Guy’s wife, Sibylla of Jerusalem). Instead, Philip was offered free power and general administration over the whole kingdom and Guy the care and administration of the kingdom.52 While this might be a narrow distinction – notably it is one that William of Tyre makes himself. It was Melisende who inherited, and she continued to rule alongside her son by virtue of her bloodline. Equally when William related the line of succession – despite structuring his chronicon by successive kings – Fulk was not mentioned in a list which included only those who had inheritance rights.53 By the lord Baldwin was born Queen Melisende, from Melisende in truth were born the kings the lord Baldwin III and lord Amalric.54 All of which suggests that William was often clearer in his demarcation between roles than he is given credit for. While Melisende was associated with the care and administration of the kingdom (language most commonly associated with regents) she was also crowned twice on the succession of herself and her husband and again alongside her son. Her position is attested to on multiple occasions as by hereditary right – William’s marker for a ruler a queen regnant not a regent.55 Despite his clear partisan status for the legitimate monarchy, Edbury and Rowe argue that “William managed to portray the kings as worthy if sometimes fallible men, and above all, as wise and able monarchs who had provided the leadership ←225 | 226→their kingdom needed”.56 Melisende, as we can see from William’s portrayal fits neatly into the archbishop’s paradigm of the just and legitimate monarch despite the setbacks that her gender arguably provided:

The lady queen Melisende, of glorious record and pious memory in the Lord, on the death of her husband, as we have said before, left with two children as yet below the age of adulthood, acting as legitimate guardian for her sons, by hereditary right the care and administration of the kingdom was assigned to her. Until that day she had ruled vigorously with the advice of the princes of the kingdom, transcending the strength and spirit of women. Even after he was raised to the throne of the kingdom, her first born son, Lord Baldwin, remained subject to her orders […]57

1152: A Case of Intergenerational Conflict

Baldwin III was arguably at a disadvantage in terms of the balance of power on these grounds since his mother was the senior partner in their co-rule of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, especially given that “Medieval masculinity involved proving oneself superior to other men”.58 Superiority also affected the dynamic between men and women but more commonly this has been considered between lovers rather than the focus here on the mother and son relationship.59 Of course, medieval gender was a fluid idea and the concepts of medieval masculinity in particular were often in a state of flux.60 Nonetheless, some general points can be made and a close parallel to the circumstances affecting Baldwin and Melisende can be seen in the relationship between William the Conqueror and his eldest son Robert Curthose. The conflict between these two has been approached from the aspect of gender theory. Intergenerational conflict was marked on this occasion because “in Anglo-Norman aristocratic society in the eleventh and twelfth centuries there were normative codes of masculine behaviour and the aristocratic iuvenis was not permitted to adopt the attributes of adult masculinity until the adult had deemed it appropriate for him to do so”.61 Aird concluded that “where one man sought to prevent another from fully expressing his masculine ←226 | 227→identity and attaining manhood, it should not be surprising that conflict was the result”.62

Youth in the Middle Ages referred largely to bachelordom and knighthood.63 Aird’s source, Orderic Vitalis reiterated Robert’s status as a youth throughout his narrative. For Aird, “Robert’s conduct betrayed an immaturity which impaired his attainment of full adult status”.64 Similar points can be made for Baldwin’s actions, except there is one crucial difference – by raising his arms against his mother, the young king of Jerusalem cemented his transition from titular co-king to the undisputed ruler of the Kingdom of Jerusalem. While Orderic Vitalis showed that Robert’s supporters were largely members of the disenchanted young nobility, with the older monarch retaining the bulk of support, in the frontier society of Jerusalem Baldwin swiftly gained the upper hand; once he had engaged in open warfare most of Melisende’s partisans defected to the king.65 The fluid political circumstances of that frontier society, which had initially facilitated Melisende’s succession, allowed Baldwin to sidestep his mother in the line of succession – since a male ruler would always be preferable because of the masculine and military nature of Crusader Kingship.66 It should also be noted that the rise of Zengi and Nur ad Din, and the loss of the alliance with Damascus following the Frankish incursions on the Hauran region – which supplied most of the food for Damascus – contributed to a more fraught political environment where military conflict was more likely, and reinforced the need for a strong, military leader.67

William the Conqueror was an obstacle to Robert’s position in society – preventing his access to political power, much as Melisende had done to Baldwin ←227 | 228→III through her sidelining of him in their supposedly joint charters.68 After William and Robert’s reconciliation in 1080, Robert was given an increased role; it is possible that he was even trusted with the diplomatic mission to King Malcolm III of Scotland, a mission which also removed the king’s son from Normandy. At the same time, King William raised the political profile and position of his younger sons, William Rufus and Henry, in the process ensuring their loyalty to their father and diminishing Robert’s status. Robert – seeing this as a threat to his seniority as the eldest son – rebelled again this time attacking Rouen. Aird argues that “William’s conception of his own power would not allow even a part of it to be relinquished, as the loss of Maine or Normandy would expose him to additional demands from his other sons”.69 Melisende favoured this strategy too, including her second son in joint charters with Baldwin and raising Amalric to the countship of Jaffa in 1151, moves that were designed to be detrimental to Baldwin’s honour and status as co-ruler.70 While Melisende – and certainly William of Tyre – held similar notions of the hereditary nature of the queen’s claims to power, she was less fortunate than William the Conqueror in being able to fully uphold her status, dividing power with her eldest son on two occasions both before and after the civil war of 1152, each time diminishing her own political position in the process.71

Robert on the other hand, had little chance of displacing his father and ultimately was less ambitious asking for a duchy of his own rather than attempting an outright coup, aware he had no chance of governing the kingdom while his father still lived.72 In Orderic’s account Robert proclaims to his father I am not prepared to be your hireling forever […] grant me the legal control of the duchy, just as you rule over the Kingdom of England, I, under you, may rule over the duchy of Normandy.73 Elsewhere making use of a familiar trope, Orderic blames rash, ←228 | 229→youthful, unwise and deceitful counsellors for Robert’s decisions.74 Their speech incites Robert to action, shaming him on the basis of his economic status. Royal prince, they said, how long can you live in such wretched poverty? […] It is a great dishonour to you and injury to us and many others that you should be deprived of royal wealth in this way […] as if you were a nameless beggar.75 While this passage displays the gendered language of dependency, here economic freedom was at the root of the issue rather than the “apron strings” that we will see were at the heart of Baldwin’s discontent.

Not only was gender fluid but social status was changeable. Lifecycle stages such as marriage and parenthood manifestly affected status. In 1077, at the age of 26 Robert was still unmarried; marriage would have strengthened his political position and his bachelorhood only served to emphasise his prolonged status as a youth.76 Instead “Robert’s sexuality was expressed through the casual liaison devoid of the political and dynastic significance of the fully adult marriage”.77 Baldwin was depicted in a similar fashion,78 however, he did not marry until 1158, a further six years after this conflict. This suggests that in the political context of the Latin East marriage was not quite the symbol of manhood that it was in the West in William the Conqueror’s time. Baldwin did not need a wife to prove his masculine credentials for kingship; as we will see he could do this decisively through an act of military aggression against his mother which was probably a more useful signifier of his change in status than his marriage in the martial Kingdom of Jerusalem.

There is a key difference in the way each author – William of Tyre and Orderic Vitalis – presented their young, male protagonists. Orderic gives Robert agency by having him express his dissatisfaction at his status through direct speech, whereas William used King Baldwin’s counsellors to insult him, pointing to his ←229 | 230→unseemly dependence on his mother through the infantilising image of Baldwin as a ‘suckling child’ when he should be a king. William of Tyre marshals Horace’s characterisation of the inexperienced beardless youth to illustrate the root cause of the civil war in 1152; the young Baldwin was according to the customs of his estate ‘supple as wax to be fashioned into vice, he is rude to those who give him advice’.79 Here Orderic Vitalis’ portrayal of Robert as the hasty youth anxious for power in his own right bears striking similarities with William of Tyre’s account of Baldwin, in which Baldwin III’s impatient youth was set against Melisende, his measured and proven mother. William tells us that:

By their persuasions they [men of capricious character] induced [the lord king] to withdraw himself from the tutelage of his mother to rule the kingdom of his ancestors himself, saying that it was unworthy that a king, suited to have charge over all others should hang from his mother’s breast like the son of a private person. Although the matter had arisen from the indiscrete levity, or from the malice of certain men, it almost destroyed the entire kingdom […].80

The unweaned infant image carries with it more of a sense of unreserved dependency on his mother; Baldwin is presented as without agency here entirely subject to Melisende’s decisions – whereas Robert as the hireling at least implies some economic and political freedom to act in a male capacity – albeit not in an entirely independent right. The portrayal of the King of Jerusalem dependent on his mother’s breast portrays a clear image of the challenge presented to Baldwin’s manliness not merely to his financial independence. The use of the counsellors to express this idea illustrates the importance of real or constructed male peer groups in establishing gender identity.81 The gendered insult shamed and infantilised the king and illustrated that the agency in this situation belonged to Queen Melisende – the king’s mother. By constructing the origins of the civil war in these gendered terms, William of Tyre showcased the importance of gender, age, and status in family relations behind the ensuing violence – a young man coming of age and denied his entry into adulthood, seemingly by the frequent interventions of his mother who was the heiress to the Kingdom of Jerusalem in her own right.

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The image of a kingdom almost brought to ruin by the young king and his manipulative advisors is a striking one in terms of the extent of the disruption and political dislocation that it implies. William’s construction of these events also removes some blame from Baldwin, since he is cast in the role of the archetypal youth it is his “advisors” who bear the brunt of William’s criticisms, but more importantly within the dynamic of William’s narrative, these events are marshalled in such a way as to show that Melisende’s influence denied these conniving counsellors agency.82 But Melisende also had her own advisors, and as he did with Baldwin’s counsellors, William of Tyre laid much of the blame for the political crisis on Melisende’s constable and her kinsman Manasses of Hierges, in the process exculpating mother and son from complete blame over the effects of this mother-son conflict.83

William tells us that only the authority of the queen prevented the nobility from turning their hatred against Manasses into action. According to the archbishop, even Baldwin believed that Manasses was the reason that his mother withheld her grace and munificence from her son.84 Once again the king’s capricious advisors impelled the lord king that the mother should be removed from power, saying that now he had come to adult estate it was unworthy that a woman should rule.85 Baldwin had hoped to be crowned alone on Easter Sunday 1152 in the Holy Sepulchre: a gesture of independent kingship and a power display that Patriarch Fulcher of Jerusalem refused to sanction. Instead, on Easter Monday 1152, Baldwin appeared in public crowned with a laurel wreath without either his mother’s presence or consent as a sign of his independent kingship.86 Symbolic power was not enough; William laments that even after the crown wearing ←231 | 232→and appointment of his own constable, Humphrey of Toron in 1152, not even in this was his desire for the persecution of the lady queen at peace […] the capricious men […] rekindling the fire which lurked in the cinders, burning greater and much more dangerous than before.87 Once again William placed Baldwin and his advisors as the primary antagonists – casting Melisende as the defender. Baldwin summoned the high court and demanded that the kingdom be divided between mother and son: Melisende would retain control over Judea – including the capital – Jerusalem and Nablus; Baldwin would take control over the maritime cities of Tyre and Acre – the economic heartlands of the kingdom.88

This settlement unsurprisingly did not last long; according to William, Baldwin was more ambitious and would not settle for half of the kingdom: the king, having been urged by the same [men] to whose advice he had first acquiesced, began to trouble his mother a second time, he set forth to demand the portions that each of them had obtained from the good will of the other to exclude his mother from all of them.89 Having raised an army in the north, Baldwin invaded Melisende’s territories. First, he besieged Manasses of Hierges in Mirabel, effectively leaving the queen to organise her own defences. In response, Melisende advanced from Nablus to Jerusalem, meanwhile Baldwin occupied Nablus before pursuing his mother to the capital. At this point, she lost the support of a significant number of her men, retaining only the backing of the Church, Amalric, Philip of Nablus, Rohard the Elder, and less high-profile men whose names were unknown to William.90 Knowing that Baldwin was advancing with his army, the queen withdrew to the tower of David, trusting to the protection of the fortress. Patriarch Fulcher attempted to dissuade Baldwin from what William terms his perverse intention ←232 | 233→to overthrow his mother but ultimately failed to reconcile the king to accepting Tyre and Acre and leaving the capital under the rule of his mother.91

The king, however, pressing his intention before the city made camp, at length indeed the citizens, seeking to avoid royal wrath, opened the gates and admitted him with his troops.92 There he immediately set up his siege machines to take the citadel in which his mother had placed herself by assault, taking position in hostile fashion, the weaponry included throwing machines, ballistae, and bows. The attacks were continuous and the besieged – including Melisende – were denied rest.93 On the queen’s side, the besieged strove to repel force by force inflicting equal injuries on Baldwin’s forces. Although the king made little progress, he refused to desist and at great danger to both sides the contest lasted several days.94 At no point did William ascribe feminine gender values to Melisende’s side in this armed conflict. In fact, both sides were depicted as tireless in their response to fierce opposition, but Baldwin’s superior numbers, coupled with an untenable political situation meant that Melisende was at a considerable disadvantage and probably had little choice but to step aside.95 Separated from her military commander, the queen was shown to appear on the defensive by taking refuge in a tower while the people of the city opened the gates to her son – a gesture that William of Tyre had previously marshalled to illustrate the recognition of a king and his authority over a perceived usurper.96 As an heiress with a recognised right to the throne, it was Melisende’s status as a woman not her age or position as queen that ultimately undermined her position because a younger, ←233 | 234→male leader was waiting in the wings and the succession rules could be bent to sideline the queen.

Baldwin – already proven in battle for example at the failed siege of Damascus during the Second Crusade in July 1148 and more successfully through his actions in the Hauran in the spring of 1151 which had forced Nur ad-Din to abandon his siege of Damascus – effectively secured his military dominance by attacking Jerusalem and the tower of David – his display of violence resulted in him taking almost complete control of the Kingdom of Jerusalem. The final result of this short lived civil war (30 March to 20 April 1152) was a further division of the kingdom, the administration reverted to Baldwin while Melisende retained control over Nablus and continued to exert her influence in royal affairs albeit in a more limited and ad hoc capacity for example, she attended Baldwin’s council at Tripoli in 1152 which discussed the potential remarriage of Melisende’s niece Constance of Antioch, she was involved in the peace between Baldwin III and the merchants of Pisa in 1156, and she had some role in an attack on and the capture of the Muslim stronghold east of the Jordan (el-Hablis) in 1157.97


William of Tyre’s constructions of the civil war relied on the themes of shame, dependency, motherhood, and youth as a framework. Baldwin and Melisende themselves fell into traditional gender roles: unsurprising since for William this was fundamentally a mother and son conflict. The gender dynamics between Melisende and Baldwin were different to other intergenerational conflicts because they involved male and female antagonists and the reversal of patriarchy with an older woman in the position of authority over a young man. But otherwise the origins of the conflict were very similar to that between William the Conqueror and Robert Curthose. Yet Baldwin could be portrayed as even more emasculated than his counterpart Robert because before 1152 the King of Jerusalem’s mother was by far the senior partner.

The protagonists were at very different times in their lives – Baldwin was a young man in his early twenties; Melisende a widow who had played her role in securing the dynasty and further offspring from the queen might have led to future conflict over the succession. The shaming of Baldwin III by his “counsellor” had to be answered. I suggest then the significance of intergenerational conflict was even greater when the protagonists were male and female, and a woman was ←234 | 235→perceived to stand in the way of her son’s adulthood. Hence the insults attributed to Baldwin’s advisors to shame him into cutting the “apron strings”; it would be inappropriate for a future king to let such insults stand. He was open to criticism since he did not follow the prudent advice of his wise mother (whose maternal qualities permeated her rule) and instead was led astray by capricious men who did not have the best interests of the kingdom at heart. Instead for William, they wanted a pliable “wax” king whom they could mould in their own image – the wrong image – as William construed these events Baldwin’s mother should have been the young king’s model. The archbishop depicted Baldwin as an unready king, constructing his role in the narrative as that of a rash youth dependent on the wrong counsellors, who pushed the kingdom into civil war. Her prestige was significantly damaged by Baldwin III’s capable performance as a king showing royal wrath, gaining a reputation as a commander, and decisively defeating his rival. Thus, it was not just Melisende’s gender that made her surrender of power likely, but the gender, age, and status of her son which, coupled with his reaction to the perceived shame of co-rule, and the nascent threat of the counter-crusade,98 underpinned both the origins and his victory in the civil war of 1152.

←235 | 236→

* An early version of this paper was given at Gewalt, Krieg und Gender im Mittelalter, Hannover, July 2016. I am grateful to those in attendance for their cogent comments and insightful questions.

1 Joan W. Scott: Gender: A Useful Category of Historical Analysis, in: The American Historical Review 91 (1986), pp. 1053–1075, p. 1053.

2 Scott: Gender (see note 1), p. 1054, p. 1056; Bea Lundt: Das nächste Ähnliche. Geschlecht in der Vormoderne, in: Bea Lundt (ed.): ‘Geschlecht’ in der Lehramtsausbildung. Die Beispiele Geschichte und Deutsch, Berlin 2013, pp. 93–115, p. 93, p. 107.

3 There is a vast historiography on gender and crusading, for example: Susan B. Edgington and Sarah Lambert (eds.): Gendering the Crusades, Cardiff 2001; David Hay: Gender Bias and Religious Intolerance in Accounts of the ‘Massacres’ of the First Crusade, in: Michael Gervers, James M. Powell (eds.): Tolerance and Intolerance, Social Conflict in the Age of the Crusades, New York 2001, pp. 3–10; Christoph T. Maier: The Roles of Women in the Crusade Movement: A Survey, in: JMH 30 (2004), pp. 61–82; Helen Nicholson: Women on the Third Crusade, in: JMH 23 (1997), pp. 335–49; James M. Powell: The Role of Women on the Fifth Crusade, in: Benjamin Z. Kedar (ed.): The Horns of Hattin, Jerusalem 1992, pp. 294–301; Megan McLaughlin: The Woman Warrior: Gender, Warfare and Society in Medieval Europe, in: Women’s Studies 17 (1990), pp. 193–209; Rasa Mazeika: “Nowhere was the Fragility of their Sex Apparent”, Women Warriors in the Baltic Crusade Chronicles, in: Alan V. Murray (ed.): From Clermont to Jerusalem, The Crusades and Crusader Societies 1095–1500, Turnhout 1998, pp. 229–48; Natasha R. Hodgson: Women, Crusading and the Holy Land in Historical Narrative, Woodbridge 2007; Sabine Geldsetzer: Frauen auf Kreuzzügen, 1096–1291, Darmstadt 2003.

4 Scott: Gender (see note 1), p. 1075.

5 Ibid., p. 1055.

6 Kimberlé Crenshaw: Demarginalizing the Intersection of Race and Sex. A Black Feminist Critique of Antidiscrimination Doctrine, Feminist Theory and Antiracist Politics, in: University of Chicago Legal Forum 1 (1989), pp. 139–67; Kimberlé Crenshaw: Mapping the Margins. Intersectionality, Identity Politics, and Violence Against Women of Colour, in: Stanford Law Review 43 (1991), pp. 1241–99; Andrea Griesebner and Susanne Hehenberger: Intersektionalität. Ein brauchbares Konzept für die Geschichtswissenschaften?, in: Vera Kallenberg, Jennifer Meyer, Johanna M. Müller (eds.): Intersectionality und Kritik. Neue Perspektiven auf alte Fragen, Wiesbaden 2013, pp. 105–24, p. 106; Katharina Walgenbach: Gender als interdependente Kategorie, in: Katharina Walgenbach, Gabriele Dietze, Antje Hornscheidt, Kerstin Palm (eds.): Gender als interdependente Kategorie. Neue Perspektiven auf Intersektionalität, Diversität und Heterogenität, Opladen 2007, pp. 23–64, p. 23, p. 62.

7 For example, Katherine Weikert and Elena Woodacre: Gender and Status in the Medieval World, in: Historical Reflections 42 (2016), pp. 1–7, p. 1; p. 4; Griesebner, Hehenberger: Intersektionalität (see note 6), pp. 105–24, p. 108.

8 Bea Lundt: Mönch, Kleriker, Gelehrter, Intellektueller: Zu Wandel und Krise der Männlichkeiten im 12. Jahrhundert, in: L’Homme. Europäische Zeitschrift für Feministische Geschichtswissenschaft 19 (2008), pp. 11–29; R. Claire Snyder: What is Third-Wave Feminism? A New Directions Essay, in: Signs 34 (2008), pp. 175–96; p. 184; Amy S. Wharton: The Sociology of Gender. An Introduction to Theory and Research, Malden, MA, 2005, p. 5; Dawn M. Hadley: Introduction: Medieval Masculinities, in: Dawn M. Hadley (ed.): Masculinity in Medieval Europe, London 1999, pp. 1–17, p. 1, p. 3.

9 For Mayer, this will represented a shift from the initial offer of the throne to Fulk, see Hans E. Mayer: Studies in the History of Queen Melisende of Jerusalem, in: Dumbarton Oaks Papers 26 (1972), pp. 93–182, p. 100. For the view that the will was compatible with the original terms of Melisende and Fulk’s marriage see Bernard Hamilton: Women in the Crusader States: The Queens of Jerusalem (1100–1190), in: Derek Baker (ed.): Medieval Women (Studies in Church History. Subsidia 1), Oxford 1978, pp. 143–74; p. 150. For Murray, tripartite rule is not supported by the coronation ceremony which excluded the young Baldwin. Alan V. Murray: Women in the Royal Succession of the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem (1099–1291), in: Claudia Zey, Sophie Caflisch, Philippe Goridis (eds.): Mächtige Frauen? Königinnen und Fürstinnen im europäischen Mittelalter (11.-14. Jahrhundert) (Vorträge und Forschungen 81), Ostfildern 2015, pp. 131–162, pp. 131–62, p. 140. Phillips attributes the boy’s omission from the ceremony to his young age. Jonathan P. Phillips: Holy Warriors, A Modern History of the Crusades, London 2009, p. 57.

10 Mayer offers compelling analysis of the gradual breakdown in relations through Melisende and Baldwin’s charters: from 1147 “Melisende began to push Baldwin into the background in the charters”. Mayer: Studies (see note 9), p. 115, p. 124.

11 Manasses of Hierges arrived in the Holy Land in 1140 and rose to the position of constable swiftly. His marriage to the widow of Barisan (the former head of the Ibelin family) made him the lord of Ramla and Mirabel but impacted on the inheritance of Barisan’s sons Hugh, Baldwin and Balian: leaving the three brothers with Ibelin and the prospect of losing any claim to Ramla and Mirabel if Manasses and his new wife had children. Mayer: Studies (see note 9), p. 116, pp. 155–6.

12 Mayer: Studies (see note 9), p. 115, p. 124.

13 Peter Edbury and John G. Rowe: William of Tyre, Historian of the Latin East, Cambridge 1988, p. 80.

14 For how William constructed a tidier, early political history of Antioch “that replaced nagging difficulties with the appearance of continuity of rule and clarity of succession” see Thomas Asbridge: William of Tyre and the First Rulers of the Latin Principality of Antioch, in: Susan B. Edgington, Helen Nicholson (eds.): Deeds Done Beyond the Sea, Essays on William of Tyre, Cyprus and the Military Orders Presented to Peter Edbury (Crusades – Subsidia 6), Farnham 2014, pp. 35–42, p. 42.

15 William of Tyre: Chronicon, ed. Robert B.C. Huygens (Corpus Christianorum LXIII–LXIII A), Turnhout 1986, p. 717; Edbury, Rowe: William of Tyre (see note 13), p. 82. See also Mayer: Studies (see note 9), p. 164; Martin Aurell: Introduction: Rompre la concorde familiale: typologie, imaginaire, questionnements, in: Martin Aurell (ed.): La parenté déchirée: les luttes intrafamiliales au Moyen Âge, Turnhout 2010, pp. 9–59, p. 15.

16 William of Tyre (see note 15), p. 717; Edbury, Rowe: William of Tyre (see note 13), p. 82.

17 See Hodgson for the view that William of Tyre presented Melisende’s actions as “an extension of her maternal desire to protect him (and their inheritance)”. Hodgson: Women, Crusading and the Holy Land (see note 3), p. 239.

18 William M. Aird: Frustrated Masculinity: The Relationship between William the Conqueror and his Eldest Son, in: Dawn M. Hadley (ed.): Masculinity in Medieval Europe, London 1999, pp. 39–55, p. 40.

19 Ibid., p. 40.

20 Ibid., p. 42.

21 Ibid., p. 43.

22 Hadley: Introduction (see note 8), p. 3.

23 Aird: Frustrated Masculinity (see note 18), p. 48.

24 Edbury, Rowe: William of Tyre (see note 13), p. 1.

25 For the dating of William’s writing over a fifteen-year period from c.1171 to the 1180s see Benjamin Z. Kedar: Some New Light on the Composition Process of William of Tyre’s Historia, in: Susan B. Edgington, Helen Nicholson (eds.): Deeds Done Beyond the Sea, Essays on William of Tyre, Cyprus and the Military Orders Presented to Peter Edbury (Crusades – Subsidia 6), Farnham 2014, pp. 3–11.

26 Ibid., p. 13.

27 See Cha for a similar argument on Lambert of Ardres, Yongku Cha: The Relationship between Fathers and Sons in the Twelfth Century: Baldwin of Guines and His Eldest Son, in: Journal of Family History 39 (2014), pp. 87–100, p. 89.

28 Edbury, Rowe: William of Tyre (see note 13), pp. 17–9.

29 Ibid., p. 57.

30 Ibid., p. 80.

31 Ibid., p. 61.

32 For example, ibid., p. 65, pp. 80–3.

33 William of Tyre (see note 15), p. 717.

34 For example, Hamilton: Women in the Crusader States (see note 9), p. 149.

35 For the frequency of female succession see Murray: Women in the Royal Succession (see note 9), p. 133; Hamilton: Women in the Crusader States (see note 9), pp. 143–74. For Melisende’s possible disadvantage see Mayer: Studies (see note 9), p. 117; Huneycutt argues that “at the comital level, female does not seem to have operated too differently from male leadership”. Lois L. Huneycutt: Power: Medieval Women’s Power through Authority, Autonomy, and Influence, in: Kim M. Phillips (ed.): A Cultural History of Women in the Middle Ages, vol. 2, London 2013, pp. 153–78, p. 157. Truax states that women “were not barred from leadership positions that might include military command”. Jean A. Truax: Anglo-Norman Women at War: Valiant Soldiers, Prudent Strategists or Charismatic Leaders?, in: Donald J. Kagay, L.J.A. Villalon (eds.): The Circle of War in the Middle Ages. Essays on Medieval Military and Naval History, Woodbridge 2000, pp. 111–25, p. 123. Grant argues that “the real difference between queen and king as convenor and leader of a military force was that no one would expect the queen to take part in actual fighting”. Lindy Grant: Blanche of Castile, Queen of France, New Haven 2016, p. 5. McLaughlin asserts that after the eleventh century a sharp rise in criticism of females engaged in warfare emerged in canonical sources, McLaughlin: The Woman Warrior (see note 3), pp. 193–209; Hay investigated the canons before the eleventh century to determine that canonists such as Bonizo of Sutri (c.1045–94), Burchard of Worms, Ivo of Chartres and Regino of Prüm all operated within an already established context of criticising ruling women who engaged in warfare. While McLaughlin uses the terms warrior and commander interchangeably, Hay argues that there is no evidence that women wielded weapons themselves. David Hay: Canon Law regarding Female Military Commanders up to the Time of Gratian: Some Texts and their Historical Context, in: Mark D. Meyerson, Daniel Thiery and Oren Falk (eds.): ‘A Great Effusion of Blood’? Interpreting Medieval Violence, Toronto 2004, pp. 288–89, p. 291, pp. 295–8.

36 Grant recently questioned the extent to which power displays were gendered and it seems that Melisende operated within a similar context: Grant: Blanche of Castile (see note 35), p. 5.

37 Mayer: Studies (see note 9), p. 117.

38 Hodgson: Women, Crusading and the Holy Land (see note 3), p. 186.

39 For instance, Kimberly A. LoPrete: Adela of Blois: Familial Alliances and Female Lordship, in: Theodore Evergates (ed.): Aristocratic Women in Medieval France, Philadelphia, PA 1999, pp. 7–43, p. 35.

40 Niall Christie: “No People Will Prosper Who Appoint a Woman to Rule over Them”: Gender and Government in Muslim Sources for the Crusades (forthcoming), p. 11. I am especially grateful to Dr Christie for providing me with an advance copy. Ibn al-Qalānisī: The Damascus Chronicle of the Crusades, trans. Hamilton A.R. Gibb, London 1932, reprinted New York 2002, pp. 211–20, pp. 224–33.

41 Mayer describes her as regent (alongside the constable) for her son Baldwin III; Mayer: Studies (see note 9), p. 95. Elsewhere, he states that she “rightfully claimed a share in the kingship under the will of Baldwin II”, p. 114. He refers to Melisende as a “royal guardian”, p. 115 and states that “the Queen Mother was the one who actually ruled the country”, p. 127. Goridis argues that Melisende was a prime example of queenship but often as a regent, Philippe Goridis: Rex Factus est uxorius. Weibliche und männliche Herrschaftsrollen in Outremer, in: Das Mittelalter 21 (2016), pp. 22–39, p. 30. For Gerish, “although Melisende’s position as a regent was constitutionally recognised, it was also highly controversial”. Deborah Gerish: Ancestors and Predecessors: Royal Continuity and Identity in the First Kingdom of Jerusalem, in: Christopher Harper-Bill (ed.): Anglo-Norman Studies XX, Proceedings of the Battle Conference in Dublin, Woodbridge 1998, pp. 127–50, p. 132. Murray prefers the term joint rule, Murray: Women in the Royal Succession (see note 9), pp. 133–5. For Asbridge, Melisende “did not have an overwhelming legal claim to power”, Thomas Asbridge: Alice of Antioch: a case study of female power in the twelfth century, in: Peter Edbury, Jonathan Phillips (eds.): The Experience of Crusading, Vol. 2: Defining the Crusader Kingdom, Cambridge 2003, pp. 29–47, p. 41 “but she was appointed as joint ruler with her son”, Thomas Asbridge: The Crusades, The War for the Holy Land, London 2010, p. 173. For Hodgson, Melisende was both regent and “an heiress in her own right”. Hodgson: Women, Crusading and the Holy Land (see note 3), p. 182. For a wider discussion of this issue see Sarah Lambert: Queen or Consort, Rulership and Politics in the Latin East, 1118–1228, in: Anne J. Duggan (ed.): Queens and Queenship in Medieval Europe, Proceedings of a Conference Held at Kings College London, April 1995, Woodbridge 1997, pp. 153–69.

42 William of Tyre (see note 15), p. 431.

43 Ibid., p. 453.

44 Ibid., p. 550.

45 Ibid., p. 631.

46 Ibid., p. 634.

47 Ibid., p. 714, p. 717.

48 Ibid., p. 843.

49 Ibid., p. 864.

50 Ibid., p. 961.

51 Ibid., p. 1058.

52 Ibid., p. 979, p. 1058; a similar study of Antioch reveals that William used “general administration […] with full jurisdiction” to describe Tancred taking control of the principality. Asbridge argues that William was “almost deliberately vague on the question of whether Tancred actually became a fully fledged prince of Antioch after 1104”. Asbridge: William of Tyre and the Latin Principality of Antioch (see note 14), p. 40–1. It is likely that William used similar tactics to describe the civil war of 1152, to lessen the impact of a consecrated queen being deposed by her son: making her status ambiguous to render Baldwin’s rule more acceptable.

53 However, William structured his chronicon ‘according to the reigns of the kings of Jerusalem’ and he placed Fulk not Melisende within this context. Murray: Women in the Royal Succession (see note 9), pp. 133–5.

54 William of Tyre (see note 15), p. 869.

55 As Christie states, “in the patriarchal context in which women of royal or noble status moved, it was easier for them to have an impact as powers behind the thrones rather than on them”. Christie: No People Will Prosper (see note 40), p. 11.

56 Edbury, Rowe: William of Tyre (see note 13), p. 72.

57 William of Tyre (see note 15), p. 777.

58 Ruth Mazo Karras: From Boys to Men: Formations of Masculinity in Late Medieval Europe, Philadelphia 2003, p. 10.

59 For example, ibid., p. 11.

60 Ibid., p. 4.

61 Hadley: Introduction (see note 8), p. 3.

62 Aird: Frustrated Masculinity (see note 18), p. 55. Cha has undertaken a similar investigation with Baldwin of Guines. Cha: The Relationship between Fathers and Sons (see note 27), pp. 87–100.

63 Michael Bennett: Military Masculinity in England and Northern France c.1050–1225, in: Dawn M. Hadley (ed.): Masculinity in Medieval Europe, London 1999, pp. 71–88, p. 73.

64 Aird: Frustrated Masculinity (see note 18), p. 43.

65 Ibid., p. 50.

66 For the view that it was inevitable that Melisende would step aside for a male heir see Hodgson: Women, Crusading and the Holy Land (see note 3), p. 187.

67 Mayer: Studies (see note 9), p. 123. The historiography on the counter-crusade is vast, see especially Carole Hillenbrand: The Crusades, Islamic Perspectives, New York 2000; Michael Köhler: Alliances and Treaties between Frankish and Muslim Rulers in the Middle East, Cross-Cultural Diplomacy in the Period of the Crusades, trans. Peter M. Holt, Leiden 2013.

68 Mayer: Studies (see note 9), p. 115, 124.

69 Aird: Frustrated Masculinity (see note 18), p. 55.

70 Mayer: Studies (see note 9), pp. 124–5, Murray: Women in the Royal Succession (see note 9), p. 144, Cha: The Relationship between Fathers and Sons (see note 27), p. 88.

71 The terms of the kingdom’s divisions are discussed below.

72 Aird: Frustrated Masculinity (see note 18), p. 46.

73 Orderic Vitalis: Historia Ecclesiastica, ed. and trans. Marjorie Chibnall, 6 vols. (Oxford Medieval Texts), Oxford 1969–1980, vol. 3, Oxford 1972, pp. 98–9. See Cha on Arnold of Guines for anticipatory succession, knighthood as an indicator of manhood, and material motivations: in comparison Baldwin’s motives appear more politically minded. Cha: The Relationship between Fathers and Sons (see note 27), pp. 90–3.

74 Aird: Frustrated Masculinity (see note 18), p. 50. The trope of the evil counsellor also appears in the conflict over Guines. Cha: The Relationship between Fathers and Sons (see note 27), p. 93.

75 Orderic Vitalis: Historia (see note 73), vol. 3, Oxford 1972, pp. 98–99.

76 Aird: Frustrated Masculinity (see note 18), p. 47.

77 Ibid., p. 50.

78 William accuses Baldwin of being more prone to playing dice than befitted his royal status and of disrespecting marriage vows when he sought to fulfil his carnal desires. Notwithstanding the lack of wider political significance attached to Baldwin’s marital status in 1152, elsewhere William made it plain that he believed that the king’s marriage and not his succession marked his final entry to manhood – which the chronicler described as putting childish things away. William of Tyre (see note 15), p. 716.

79 Ibid., p. 717, Horace’s characterisation of the beardless youth, Ars Poetica line 163, trans. Leon Golden, in: J.B. Hardison, Jr. and Leon Golden: Horace for Students of Literature, the ‘Ars Poetica’ and its Tradition, Gainesville 1995, p. 12.

80 William of Tyre (see note 15), p. 717.

81 For example, Hadley: Introduction (see note 8), p. 13.

82 It is worth noting that the trope of the evil counsellor is so pervasive that we should be wary of attaching too much significance to their role. See for instance, Aird: Frustrated Masculinity (see note 18), p. 50; Cha: The Relationship between Fathers and Sons (see note 27), p. 93.

83 William of Tyre (see note 15), p. 777.

84 Ibid., pp. 777–8.

85 Ibid., p. 778.

86 Ibid., p. 778. For the symbolism of the laurel wreath rather than a crown see; Simon John: Royal Inauguration and Liturgical Culture in the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem, 1099–1187, in: Journal of Medieval History 43 (2017), pp. 485–504, p. 497. “Baldwin’s choice of headgear for this display also has symbolic meaning. By adorning himself with a laurel crown (an emblem of Roman rulership which had no Christian resonances) rather than a golden crown, Baldwin may have been trying to convey the message that he had been denied his rightful inheritance, the kingdom of the city of both David and Christ.” Ibid.

87 William of Tyre (see note 15), p. 779.

88 For the impact of this division on the chancery see Mayer: Studies (see note 9), pp. 144–7. For the implications of the refusal of Melisende’s barons to join Baldwin’s army in May 1150 see Mayer: Studies (see note 9), p. 148.

89 William of Tyre (see note 15), p. 779.

90 Mayer suggests that, based on her charters, Melisende’s noble and high-profile supporters included: Archbishop Baldwin of Caesarea, Archbishop Robert of Nazareth, Abbot Geoffrey of the Temple of the Lord, the seneschal of the Temple – Andreas of Montebarro, Philip of Nablus, Rohard the Elder – the viscount of Jerusalem, Viscount Ulric of Nablus and his son Baldwin, Baldwin the Buffalo, the queen’s chamberlain Nicholas, Walter Mauduit, John of Valenciennes, Peter of Perigord, Tosetus, Herbert the Lombard, John Vaccarius, Barisan of Ibelin (d.1150) and his son Hugh, and Amalric of Jaffa. Mayer: Studies (see note 9), pp. 152–3.

91 William of Tyre (see note 15), p. 779.

92 Ibid., pp. 779–80. For the performative nature of royal wrath see G. Althoff: Ira Regis: Prolegomena to a History of Royal Anger, in: Barbara H. Rosenwein (ed.): Anger’s Past. The Social Uses of an Emotion in the Middle Ages, London 1998, pp. 153–70.

93 William of Tyre (see note 15), pp. 779–80.

94 Ibid., p. 780.

95 Although the queen could count on the support of her partisans during the dispute for power with Fulk in 1134, it did not follow that she could rely on their backing in a conflict with her now adult son. Murray: Women in the Royal Succession (see note 9), p. 159.

96 William described how Baldwin II’s allies Fulk of Anjou and Joscelin I of Courtenay were allowed through the gates of Antioch in defiance of Melisende’s younger sister Alice (the princess of Antioch had attempted to rule the principality in her own right after the death of her husband Bohemond II). William of Tyre (see note 15), p. 624. For an assessment of Alice and how she might be seen as a precursor to Melisende see Asbridge: Alice of Antioch (see note 41), p. 42.

97 For example, Hamilton: Women in the Crusader States (see note 9), p. 155. For the dating of the Council of Tripoli see Mayer: Studies (see note 9), p. 160.

98 Mayer: Studies (see note 9), p. 123.