King Amalric I of Jerusalem, and his first wife, Agnes of Courtenay, had three children. When Amalric was forced to put Agnes aside via annulment in order to be crowned, he first guaranteed that his children would be recognized as legitimate, just in case he did not produce any more heirs.
Sibylla was the oldest of the children of Agnes and Amalric, born before 1161 when her brother Baldwin was born. She was named after Sibylla of Anjou, her father's half-sister, who at the time of the younger's birth had come to Jerusalem on pilgrimage and decided to abandon her husband and children and be a nun.
When Amalric was forced to put Agnes aside, the palace did not have a queen/mother for awhile, so the child Sibylla was sent to be raised by her great aunt, Ioveta, abbess of the Convent of Saint Lazarus (where the elder Sibylla had taken up residence, in fact).
Amalric wanted a good husband for Sibylla and asked the archbishop of Tyre to find someone suitable among the nobility of Western Europe, someone who was outside the orders of consanguinity that was one reason why he had to abandon Agnes. A brother-in-law of King Louis VII of France was available, Count of Sancerre Stephen I, who came to Jerusalem and was well thought of, but who ultimately rejected the marriage. William of Tyre claimed that Stephen backed out "disgracefully and foully"; William also said Stephen was "a man noble in flesh, but not so behavior." Perhaps Stephen was looking for, but not guaranteed to, become king, since other heirs existed.
Upon Amalric's death in 1174, his only son became King Baldwin IV, known as The Leper King because of his illness, with Raymond III of Tripoli as regent. (See illustration) The other option was Sibylla, who was only 15.
One thing Raymond did as regent was allow Agnes of Courtenay back to court to be reunited with her children. As the current king's leprosy advanced and he became increasingly unable to function, urgency increased to find Sibylla a husband. Raymond chose William of Montferrat, called "Longsword" (not to be confused with William Longsword).
William was a cousin of both Holy Roman Emperor Frederick Barbarossa and King Louis VII of France, an excellent connection to the powers of Western Europe. By the time William arrived in Jerusalem, however, the connection was looking less useful, because Barbarossa had suffered some military setbacks and was unlikely to be able to spare his military to help in the Holy Land. Sibylla had been jilted once, however, and her prospects would look less and less good if she were to be jilted a second time, so the marriage had to be accepted by the Jerusalem court.
Baldwin made William Count of Jaffa and Ascalon. Shortly after the marriage, the two conceived a son, Baldwin. Succession seemed assured. Unfortunately, shortly after the couple conceived, William fell ill. He died months later, leaving Sibylla as Countess of Jaffa and Ascalon
Once again needing a husband, claimants for Sibylla's hand arose, but weren't always acceptable to the Court, so they declared that she needed a year of mourning. We'll see tomorrow how she finally found a husband who would last.
In 1173 King of Jerusalem Amalric I tried to make an alliance with the Order of Assassins. They were a sect of Shi'ite Islam whose goals were political as well as religious: they went after the Abbasid Caliphate as well as Christians. They had been subdued by the Templars and were forced into an annual tribute.
Amalric made them a deal: convert to Christianity, and you won't have to pay tribute to the Templars anymore. An envoy from the Order of Assassins to Amalric's court agreed to this. (Yes, hard to believe that this was a serious agreement on the part of the Order, since their entire identity was being faithful to their Shi'ite leader, the "Old Man of the Mountain" Rashid al-Din Sinan.)
Anyway, the envoy was returning from the negotiations when he was discovered by a patrol of Templars led by Walter of Mesnil. Despite being granted safe conduct by Amalric, the Templars killed him. William of Tyre and Walter Map both wrote about the incident, claiming it was a great loss of the chance to convert more Muslims to Christianity. (Walter Map suggested that the Templars did not want the Assassins to convert because it would make the Templars superfluous, but this imagines (quite wrongly) that there weren't plenty of non-Christians for the Templars to guard against and take tribute from.
Amalric was furious and demanded from the Templar master, Odo of Saint Armand, that Walter be turned over to him for punishment. Odo refused, saying that he had already given Walter penance to do and that Walter was being sent to the pope.
Amalric would have none of it. He went to where Walter was staying before heading to the pope and captured him, imprisoning him in Tyre.
On 15 May in 1174, Amalric's rival Nur ad-Din died. Amalric felt this was the best chance to (again) try to conquer Egypt. His first attack on a city there failed, but he accepted money to retreat. Heading back to Jerusalem, he fell ill. By the time he got to Jerusalem, it seemed clear that he had contracted dysentery. No treatment helped, and he died on 11 July. He left behind two daughters and a son, Baldwin, a sickly boy of 13 years. The illustration shows Amalric dying and the boy being crowned.
There were concerns about the young Baldwin IV. He did not seem to feel pain, which meant he was likely suffering from leprosy. In fact, I've talked about him as The Leper King, and that he was the only viable candidate, but he was fairly soon replaced by Baldwin V, his nephew through Sibylla of Jerusalem.
Since all that has been covered before, I want to turn to the mother of Baldwin V and sister of Baldwin IV, Sibylla of Jerusalem.
On the morning of 29 June 1170, the inhabitants of what are now western Syria, central southern Turkey, and Lebanon were rocked by one of the largest seismic events ever to occur along the northern part of the Dead Sea Transform Fault System (also called simply the Levant Fracture).
We've mentioned earthquakes before, during a synod in England in 1382, the 1386 Destruction of Basel, and the Monday before Easter 1185 in the East Midlands. The 1170 Syrian quake was so devastating that an uneasy truce was formed between enemies Emir of Aleppo and Damascus Nur ad-Din and King Amalric I of Jerusalem.
The day had begun in 1170 and people were going about their business when it struck. In Antioch, Patriarch Athanasius I was performing Mass in the Cathedral of Saint Peter, where 70 years earlier a version of the Holy Lance had been found. Athanasius was pulled out alive but died soon after from his injuries. About 50 others were killed in the collapse of the dome. Several other churches in Antioch were also destroyed, as were the defensive walls along the Orontes river.
Damage reached from Antioch to Tripoli in the south. Bohemond III, Prince of Antioch, was so distressed by the destruction all around that he cut his hair and donned sackcloth as a sign of mourning. The Knights Templar and Knights Hospitaller had been given several castles by Count Raymond II of Tripoli as a shield on his borders to hold against the Turks. They were all reported as destroyed.
This earthquake has been estimated to have been a magnitude 7.7 on the moment magnitude scale (see illustration). The illustration shows the destructive force of the scale. Damage was so widespread that it appears in several records. In all, an estimated 80,000 people were killed, and aftershocks were felt for three months.
Although Nur ad-Din and Amalric were agreed to hold off on hostilities while rebuilding their kingdoms, others were not so kind. In December, Saladin came with an enormous force to besiege Amalric's fortress of Darum in the south while Tripoli was still trying to rebuild. For some reason, however, Saladin destroyed part of Darum and left without occupying it. Amalric rebuilt Darum to be stronger, but the threat from Egypt was clear.
Amalric did his best to preserve the kingdom. We will see how that turned out tomorrow.
January 1169 saw the death of Bertrand of Blancfort, the master of the Templars. Bertrand was not as keen on invading Egypt as was Amalric I, King of Jerusalem. In August of that year, no doubt with the influence of Amalric, Philip of Milly had been elected to lead the Templars.
Amalric and Philip had been allies for several years: the two had supported Amalric's mother, Queen Melisende, in her opposition to Amalric's brother, King Baldwin III. Around the same time Amalric convinced his ally through marriage, Byzantine Emperor Manuel I Comnenos, to send soldiers to help in the invasion of Egypt (see illustration). Amalric also had the Hospitallers on his side.
This combination Franco-Byzantine expedition thought they would be served by unrest in Egypt. Egypt was being ruled by outsiders, and Shirkuh had been killed. Rough seas hindered the fleet, however, and the mouth of the Nile was blocked, making it difficult to reach the port city of Damietta, their first goal.
William of Tyre reported that Damietta could be taken quickly; however, constructing siege engines took too long, and boats from the south could provide Damietta with fresh supplies. Also, the Egyptians launched a ship on fire at the Byzantine fleet, causing the loss of six ships.
Weather was also a problem. Heavy October rains were demoralizing, and the food stores of the attackers were running low. They were unable to land and find fresh supplies. The Greek leaders felt Amalric was being too timid. Amalric worried that they had not battered the walls of Damietta enough to try to take the city. The Greeks prepared to ignore Amalric and attack, but Amalric started negotiations with Damietta before the attack could take place. For a sum of gold, Amalric retreated. He was back home on 12 December.
It was not wise to stay away from Jerusalem for overlong, since Nur ad-Din was constantly harassing the borders. Then something happened on 29 June 1170 that caused Amalric and Nur ad-Din to declare a temporary truce, something devastating to both men and their people, with a death toll estimated at 80,000. It was not a plague.
Yesterday's post introduced the phrase more muris in pera, "like a mouse in a wallet." It was said by William of Tyre about Andronikos Comnenos, a cousin of the Byzantine Emperor, who came to the Kingdom of Jerusalem.
To explain this phrase, we first have to understand that the word "wallet" was first used in the late 14th century and referred to a very different way of carrying valuables than the pocket-sized device we think of today. The wallet at the time was a satchel (from Latin saccellus, referring to a small bag or pouch) or a knapsack. (The word was first used as a "flat case for carrying money" in 1834 in American English.)
What was a "wallet" centuries ago? A larger pouch, perhaps with a flap, for carrying many things necessary for life: currency, surely, but also items of daily necessity and food. It was something not easily lived without if something happened to it.
So when William of Tyre said that Andronikos acted like a mouse in a wallet, he was describing an ungovernable destructive force, taking advantage of access to important things.
Andronikos (born c. 1120) was an adventurous sort, with a history of scandals, both political and romantic. When he arrived in the area c.1167, he was in his 40s. Byzantine Emperor Manuel made him governor of Cilicia, but he was bored in that post and went to Antioch where there was much more excitement, like seducing Philippa of Antioch, sister of the current Prince of Antioch, Bohemond III, as well as the sister of Manuel's second wife, Maria of Antioch. Bohemond complained to Manuel, who named someone else governor of Cilicia and recalled Andronikos.
Andronikos refused to return, and Philippa turned down the offer of marriage to the newly-appointed governor of Cilicia, berating him for being inferior in all ways to Andronikos. Andronikos and Philippa went to Jerusalem where King Amalric I gave him Beirut to govern.
Andronikos abandoned Philippa a year later, and went to Acre where he seduced Theodora Comnena, the dowager widow of Amalric's predecessor and brother, Baldwin III. The two were about 30 years apart in age. For reasons mentioned yesterday, Amalric did not want Theodora to remarry, and consanguinity said they should not (Theodora was the daughter of Andronikos' cousin Isaac).
Again, Manuel was furious and demanded Andronikos return to Constantinople. When he did not, Manuel sent a command that Andronikos be blinded. This would, of course, make him ineligible to become emperor, no matter his standing in the imperial family. (This was a common way for the Byzantines to eliminate rivals.) Theodora got word of the letter demanding the blinding and warned Andronikos.
Andronikos could not be sure that Amalric would support him rather than help Manuel, and so the two eloped and went to a place they figured they could not be touched by either Manuel or Amalric: the court of Nur ad-Din, currently the biggest rival/enemy of both those rulers! In a way, this was fortunate for Amalric: the two were well out of the way, Amalric got Acre back, and through his own wife was still allied with the Byzantines.
Andronikos had much more ahead of him, including eventually becoming emperor (the illustration shows the gold coin struck showing him being crowned by Christ), but let's at least finish the love story before we return to the Kingdom of Jerusalem under Amalric.
The two traveled a lot over the next decade before settling in northeastern Anatolia just beyond the Byzantine border as guests of the 8th King of Georgia, George III. They had children, and life was fine until Byzantine imperial forces found them and captured Theodora and their children, taking them back to Constantinople.
Andronikos himself went to Constantinople and appeared before Manuel with a chain around his neck, pleading humbly for Theodora and the children to be returned to him. Manuel relented, and the family was sent to Paphlagonia where they lived in a castle on the Black Sea coast. Andronikos was there to govern, and took his duties seriously this time. In 1182, he would return to politics, by which time Theodora was probably dead, since she no longer appears in records.
The mouse had found his soulmate, apparently, and finally was out of the wallet. Now we can go back to the wallet and see what Amalric was up to.
(I said we would get back to Amalric, but I've discovered a side story that I would rather not put off.)
King of Jerusalem Amalric I did not want to give up on his dream of bringing Egypt under Christian control, but he could not persuade the king of France to work with him. He needed to find powerful allies, and he chose to create one through marriage. In 1165, he sent envoys, including his royal butler Odo of Saint-Amand and Archbishop Ernesius of Caesarea, to Byzantine Emperor Manuel I Comnenos to find a bride in the imperial family.
Amalric had been married to Agnes of Courtenay, but when he was ready to succeed his brother Baldwin III as king he was told he would have to get rid of her. In 1167 he married Maria Comnena, the grand-niece of the emperor. Her cousin Theodora (pictured, with attendants) had been Queen of Jerusalem as the wife of Amalric's older brother and predecessor, Baldwin III.
What happened to Theodora?
Theodora became the Kingdom of Jerusalem's first dowager queen upon Baldwin's death. She retired to Acre. Why Acre? Emperor Manuel made it part of the marriage contract, that Theodora be given Acre as her dower (a provision made by a husband to his intended wife). Theodora came to Jerusalem with over 100,000 gold coins and goods worth thousands more, so this seemed like a good deal to all.
Life in Acre may have been fine for her, but for the young woman, it was quite boring. She was born c.1145, so with Baldwin's death in 1162 she was still very young and, in situations like this, she might have been used to make a marriage that would connect some other powerful ally to the Kingdom of Jerusalem. This was not to be the case, however.
She was not allowed to remarry without Amalric's permission, which he was not about to give. Acre was in her possession, and if she remarried and had children they would stand to inherit Acre. Amalric wanted her childless so that Acre would revert to possession by the king.
Although the Kingdom of Jerusalem was ruled by Franks, the majority of the Christian population was Greek Orthodox, like Theodora. She would not have been completely "out of her element" among strangers, but life would have been dull. Into this situation came Andronikos Comnenos, a first cousin of Emperor Manuel. According to William of Tyre, Andronikos behaved more muris in pera, "like a mouse in a wallet."
What that means, and what it meant to the kingdom and for Theodora, I'll explain tomorrow.
In 1163, the young Fatimid caliph of Egypt was al-Adid, who was only 12 and a puppet of several strong nobles and viziers. His current vizier, Shawar, was overthrown by the military commander Dirgham. Shortly after, Amalric I, King of Jerusalem, attacked on the pretense that Egypt was not keeping up tributes promised to Baldwin III, Amalric's brother and predecessor.
Amalric failed, but it motivated Nur ad-Din, Emir of Aleppo, to attack Crusader forces in Syria to keep their attention away from Egypt. While Nur ad-Din was attacking Tripoli, Shawar visited him asking for help to be restored to power in Egypt.
Nur ad-Din did not want to divide his forces, but gave a Kurdish mercenary general employed by the Zengid Dynasty permission to invade Egypt. General Shirkuh was happy to do so, but his approach to Egypt frightened Dirgham enough to forge an alliance with Amalric to fight Shirkuh. Unfortunately, Amalric assembled his forces but did not arrive in time to help. Dirgham was killed, and Shawar was restored to power over the kingdom and the young caliph.
But Shawar and Shirkuh fell out and Shawar called Amalric for help. Amalric attacked Shirkuh's forces, but they came to a stalemate and each agreed to leave Egypt. In 1166, however, Shirkuh came back. Shawar called on Amalric again, who arrived in January 1167. Another stalemate was reached, and again the two agreed to retreat and leave Egypt to Shawar (although Amalric left a garrison in Cairo). Amalric also demanded more tribute from Egypt.
Amalric came back in the winter of 1168, at which point Shawar re-allied himself with Shirkuh. They could not drive Amalric out of Cairo, and Amalric progressed until he was camped at Fustat (now called Old Cairo). Shawar decided to destroy the city rather than let it fall into Christian hands. An Egyptian historian, writing at least two centuries later, says:
Shawar ordered that Fustat be evacuated. He forced [the citizens] to leave their money and property behind and flee for their lives with their children. In the panic and chaos of the exodus, the fleeing crowd looked like a massive army of ghosts.... Shawar sent 20,000 naphtha pots and 10,000 lighting bombs and distributed them throughout the city. Flames and smoke engulfed the city and rose to the sky in a terrifying scene. The blaze raged for 54 days.
Shirkuh did not give up, however. He fought until Amalric was forced out of Egypt, conquered Cairo himself, executed Shawar, and ruled Egypt for ... two months. He was succeeded by his nephew, a name better known to modern readers: Saladin.
Amalric would continue to invade Egypt. Tomorrow we'll return to see how his reign was going.
Born into the Zengid Dynasty, Al-Malik al-Adil Abu al-Qasim Nūr al-Dīn Maḥmūd bin Imad al-Dīn Zengī, known as Nur ad-Din, became Emir of Aleppo in 1146 when he was 28 years old.
He set out to eliminate the Frankish kingdoms that had been created by Crusaders. He attacked Antioch and rebuffed attempts to recover the County of Edessa, which had fallen to the Zengid Dynasty in 1144. An attempt to recapture Edessa by the Franks led to Nur ad-Din executing the male population of Armenian Christians and enslaving the women and children.
(The illustration shows in dark orange Zengid territory when Nur ad-Din became Emir. The lighter orange shows how the territory expanded by 1174 when Nur ad-Din died.)
The Second Crusade in 1148 was an attempt to recover Edessa. They were unable to do so, and looked for another suitable goal. Aleppo was too far, so attacking Nur ad-Din directly was not feasible. They considered Damascus, but a siege there lasted only four days before the Crusade gave up.
After the departure of the Crusade, Nur ad-Din prepared another attack on Antioch. This led to the Battle of Inab in 1149, during which Prince Raymond of Antioch was killed, along with the husband (at the time) of Agnes of Courtenay, and many Franks. He conquered so much of the territory around Antioch that he was content to leave the city itself alone. (Antioch soon after became part of the Byzantine Empire, which Nur ad-Din was not prepared to go against.) He was able to march all the way to the Mediterranean, a symbolic goal.
In 1163, the new King of Jerusalem, Amalric I, began an offensive against Egypt. Egypt at the time was weakened by a series of very young Fatimid caliphs who were undermined and overruled by their viziers and other powerful nobles. Amalric failed, but it motivated Nur ad-Din to attack the Crusaders in Syria to draw their attention and forces away from Egypt.
What followed was a dance of shifting alliances between Turks and Franks. I'll explain soon.
Baldwin III, King of Jerusalem, contracted dysentery in 1162 after taking some pills from a Syriac physician. He was only 33 years old, and healthy prior to the pills, so poison was suspected, but no investigation turned up any sign of wrongdoing. Trying to get home from Antioch, he got as far as Beirut. He summoned his nobles to him, announcing his younger brother, Amalric, as his heir. He died on 10 February 1163.
Amalric was 27, and therefore unlike Baldwin at his ascension needed no regent (besides, his mother Queen Melisende had died on 11 September 1161) and was ready to rule. Unfortunately, the High Court refused to recognize him as king until he got rid of his wife, Agnes of Courtenay, for reasons on which historians cannot agree.
Amalric and Agnes already had children, and the need for an heir was a concern. Amalric gained papal agreement from Pope Alexander III that his children would be seen as legitimate even if his marriage was annulled. The marriage was annulled, presumably on the grounds of consanguinity.
Eight days after Baldwin's death, he was interred in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. On the same day in the same place, Amalric was crowned (see illustration) by the patriarch, Amalric of Nesle, the chief spokesman who told him he had to give up Agnes. (Although king and patriarch often worked together, this king excluded this patriarch from his councils, possibly because of the Agnes decision.)
One of Amalric's first pieces of legislation was the Assise sur la ligece ("Assize on liege-homage"). This declared all lords to be vassals of the king. This change allowed the vassals of Amalric's vassals to appeal directly to the king if they felt their overlords were not being fair or trustworthy. It disallowed the seizing of fiefs by lords, but allowed the king to confiscate fiefs from anyone.
Amalric's chief military goal during his reign was to conquer Egypt. This was not just a "land grab." The Crusaders were constantly threatened by Muslim neighbors, chief of whom was Nur ad-Din, Emir of Aleppo since 1146. Nur ad-Din also saw the strategic importance of Egypt: if he could control it, he would have the Crusader states surrounded.
The next decade saw these two men working against each other over Egypt. So let's learn more about Nur ad-Din next time.
Some women in the Middle Ages became pawns as wives to powerful men. Some women had power in their own right and wielded it despite opposition from their husbands, like Eleanor of Aquitaine and Queen Melisende of Jerusalem. Agnes of Courtenay, who became Melisende's daughter-in-law, found herself in similar straits.
Agnes was born c.1136, daughter of Count Joscelin II of Edessa (a second cousin of Melisende) and Beatrice of Saone. She was married to Reginald of Marsah, who was killed in the Battle of Inab (along with several others) in 1149.
Her next husband was...well, there historians disagree. She came to Jerusalem and married Amalric, Melisende's son, in 1157. When Amalric was about to succeed his brother and become King of Jerusalem, there was opposition to the marriage from Fulcher of Angoulême, the Latin patriarch of Jerusalem.
William of Tyre (who was a contemporary and writing a history of the Crusader states) claims it was because the two were too closely related. A later chronicler claims she was essentially abducted by Amalric because she was betrothed to another, Hugh of Ibelin, and that the objection was the impropriety of Amalric's abducting her.
Modern historians have other theories. One is that she was already married to Hugh of Ibelin, and therefore Amalric's actions made the two guilty of bigamy. Another theory was an objection from the Jerusalem nobles that she would wind up wielding too much power and give favors to exiles from Edessa. Also, it might have been that Amalric could make a more advantageous match.
Whatever the case, Amalric did not let a wife stand in the way of the kingship: he had the marriage annulled in 1163 (see them being separated in the illustration) rather than be excommunicated for bigamy or reasons of consanguinity.
Immediately after the annulment, she married Hugh of Ibelin, removing from Amalric any responsibility for supporting her. Hugh died c.1169, and Agnes (only in her 30s) married Reginald Grenier, heir to the Lord of Sidon.
But Agnes was not done with the Kingdom of Jerusalem. She had given birth to two children with Amalric: Sibylla of Jerusalem and Baldwin IV of Jerusalem. Let's go back to Amalric and what happened when he died.
Queen Melisende and Fulk of Anjou had a second son, Amalric, born in 1136. When his grandfather, King Baldwin II of Jerusalem, was on his deathbed in 1131, he conferred the kingdom on Melisende, Fulk, and the elder son, Baldwin III. Fulk tried to cut Melisende out of authority, but she had enough regard from the local nobles that he had to offer peace and cooperation. It is possible that she, in turn, accepted reconciliation because she only had one son, whereas Fulk had adult children from an earlier marriage and might have tried to put them in the line of succession.
Amalric is seen as the result of that reconciliation, a "spare" to follow the "heir."
Fulk died in 1143, and Melisende became co-ruler with her son, the 15-year-old Baldwin. Years later, when she and Baldwin continued to be at odds, she named the 15-year-old Amalric the Count of Jaffa, giving him power and making him beholden to her.
A year later, in 1152, Baldwin took the bold move of besieging his mother and her most loyal advisors in the Tower of David. Baldwin was successful. He managed to depose his mother and return Jaffa to Baldwin's own control. Two years later, in 1154, Baldwin gave his younger brother Jaffa and Ascalon.
Melisende was retired to Nablus, 30 miles north of Jerusalem: sufficient territory to give her an income, but no fortifications that she could hide behind if she tried to stir up trouble for Baldwin.
Amalric married Agnes of Courtenay in 1157, the daughter of Melisende's second cousin. William of Tyre wrote that the Patriarch of Jerusalem, Fulcher of Angoulême, objected because the couple were too closely related. A later chronicle of the lineages of the Crusader families states that the marriage was inappropriate in another way: Agnes, recently widowed, had been about to marry another, Hugh of Ibelin, but Amalric married her instead. A more recent historian claims Agnes was already married to Hugh, and Amalric kidnapped her to marry her, making them bigamous.
Amalric, like Baldwin, kept good relations with the Byzantine Empire, especially through Manuel I Comnenos (Baldwin was married to Manuel's niece, Theodora). They had no children, and so when Baldwin was nearing death, he named Amalric as his heir.
Tomorrow I want to take a look at Agnes of Courtenay, her life, her marriage to Amalric, and what happened when Amalric wanted to be King of Jerusalem. It didn't work out in Agnes' favor.
All the pages for Chapter Six, no longer sweating it out on the “incomplete” shelf (top), but tucked safe and sound onto the “finished” shelf.
For the last… (checks most recent blog post) …360 days, I’ve had my head down, working away furiously at PRACTICAL DEFENCE AGAINST PIRACY. Since this time last year, I’ve finished Chapter Five and posted it in its entirety, made a few secret things for secret reasons, sent off grant applications, written and thumbnailed Chapter Seven, and drawn Chapter Six!
I’m currently colouring Chapter Six and will begin posting finished pages within a week! They’ll be available exclusively to Secret Readers over on the ol’ Patreon.
That is also where I have exclusively been publishing my Production Diary — regular updates and insights on the comic’s progress. This was not intentional, I just started focusing on the work more. Here’s a roundup of some highlights from the last year or so!
Last Spring, I was sitting in a local coffee shop and, I don’t know, got kind of entranced by a large-scale photo on the wall. There wasn’t anything especially engaging about the subject except maybe that it was familiar subject matter (I’ve lived around this sort of thing my whole life), so I wondered what exactly about it meant I kept wanting to look at it. It has an almost abstract quality, so I figured it would be a good image to test a bunch of compositional ideas against. Over the years, as someone practicing the visual arts, I’ve encountered a ton of guidelines, rules, and methods for tackling the composition of an image. Were any of them at work here? I thought I might find out. Click through (it’s a public post, just like all of them in this section) to see what I discovered.
There’s a lot in this one, but it was written primarily to scratch an itch I encounter every now and then: sometimes, when an artist is rendering a nighttime or other dark scene, they will decide the resulting image must, necessarily, be dark, to the point where it sacrifices “readability,” or the viewer’s ability to interpret the image. The results don’t look “dark,” they just look murky and hard to understand. I think night or day, your image should be readable. So I offered some suggestions as to how to illuminate a scene that needs to feel dark, but which still needs to be understood.
I also used video game series ASSASSIN’S CREED as a jumping-off point to talk about how writing and a sense of character affects the game-playing experience.
I have a hard time shifting gears between the different processes involved in making this book. It’s a bit tough to go from colouring to writing, but it’s most difficult to go from writing and thumbnailing to “pencilling.” This was once more the case with Chapter Six, so once the gears were turning smoothly again, I shared some of the tricks I use to help myself get there.
Long-time readers may or may not know that my first published comics work was as part of the anthology, FLIGHT: VOLUME THREE. That was back in 2005 or so. As of last year, the books are being reprinted! I took the opportunity to reflect on what FLIGHT means to me, and the things that editor Kazu Kibuishi did to create and nurture a community of artists. At the time, I took his efforts for granted. In retrospect, they are exceptional, and deserve recognition.
This post starts off with a quick acknowledgement of miserable current events. Not personal ones, just the sort that (as of this writing) seem to be occurring regularly. I share some links in case you want to know where I get my news. I’m just one guy in Canada making comics; I’m doing what I can among my own communities, to the extent of my abilities, and I hope you’ll do the same. I only mention this because of a general feeling that everyone who puts things online ought to be talking about The Big Topics. But there’s too much noise, and I think it distracts from more meaningful uses of our time (perhaps by design). I’ll keep posting about the comic I’m making, and I hope that as far as interacting with an internet stranger goes, that is sufficient for you and me.
The most recent post: a grab-bag of nice things. There’s a video interview with George Saunders and articles by Oliver Burkeman, both touching on themes of human connection. That seems like a silly thing to have to emphasize, except, of course, for “AI.” I also can’t help but share my favourite, deeply silly podcasts.
Finally, for you tea perverts out there, I happened upon a tea blend at a friend’s house that was surprisingly similar to one that reader Nikki Beifel concocted way, way, way back in the Livejournal days, very early in the history of Delilah Dirk, before the first book had been properly published. I revised THE TURKISH LIEUTENANT to include her recipe as the one that Selim rifles off in at the beginning (see above). It’s available from “Tea Time” here. (I am not affiliated, I’m just a fan.)
Plus much more…
Those four posts are available to anyone who wants to enjoy them, but there are many more tucked away for Secret Readers to discover.
By far the funniest thing to happen over the last little while is this: I’ve been drawing sailing ships for years now. During all that time, I’ve been cobbling together reference from all sorts of sources, all over the place. And all that time, I’ve had this book within arm’s reach, and I didn’t even know it…
…it’s Stephen Biesty’s CROSS SECTIONS: MAN OF WAR. It’s chock full of drawings and information about every tiny little detail about exactly the type of ship I’ve been drawing for so long. This would have been so handy to have while I was working on DD2, and I could have had it, if only I’d known to ask or look. Take a deeper look and laugh along at my gentle misfortune right here.
Of course, the entirety of Chapter Five is available to read, handily organized into this collection.
Over the course of last summer I got buried in some secret tasks and challenges, but I also discovered the beautiful work of Georges Beuville, and posted some highlights.
If you’d like a deep-dive into what my thumbnailing process looks like, this post is for you. It also includes fun tangents on “writing as a puzzle,” and whether that’s a good way to look at it, and “comics versus storyboarding,” two disciplines which are less alike than it may seem.
This post is the first of many filled with photos of raw, inked pages. I also took some time to dive into the topic of intangible terms and the value they might have for discussing artwork. Things like “fuzz,” “sauce,” “spice,” and one that I like, “placeness.” They are indefinable terms. Years ago, I would have dismissed them as useless, but I think I’ve changed my mind. That sort of language can be misused — it’s hard to know how to work toward an intangible target — but I think it’s also useful to have words that at least acknowledge the intangible qualities we can see in artwork.
More recently, as I was working on the colour keys for Chapter Six, I posted about one of my very favourite ideas: most of the time, light-dark values are much more important to an image than any specifics of the colour. I got to dig up one of my favourite examples (above), “Nuclear Cows” by Lisa Palombo, as featured in Nita Leland’s EXPLORING COLOR. Knowing that “if it works in black and white, it’ll work in colour” has always made it a lot easier for me to tackle the sometimes-overwhelming task of colouring the comic.
I hope you’ll consider becoming a Secret Reader. Of course, PRACTICAL DEFENCE is entirely hand-made, and for better or worse, the person doing all that work is me. There’s still a daunting amount of it left, but I’m heartened to know that while I am the only one moving the pencils around, I’m not alone. Secret Readers make all of this possible — thank you! — and I love the challenge of making exciting new things to share with them.
Whether you’re involved in a creative field yourself, whether you’d like to know more about a very human process at a time when such things seem to be devalued, whether you’d like the thrill of catching me in stupid mistakes (like having chickens out of their coop at night), or whether you’re simply curious, there’s a lot to dive into in the PRACTICAL DEFENCE AGAINST PIRACY Production Diary.
The young King Baldwin III of Jerusalem really wanted to be seen as a military commander. To do this, he would have to take steps to overcome people's (and his mother's) memories of his previous lack of success with the Second Crusade and in Bosra.
A year after the Second Crusade debacle over Damascus he had his chance. The Prince of Antioch, Raymond of Poitiers, and others were killed in the Battle of Inab against Nur al-Din and Unur of Damascus. Antioch was pillaged.
In the past, Baldwin's father and grandfather had each been in a position to assume the regency of Antioch, and Baldwin took up the mantle. He marched his troops north to lay siege to Harim, a city taken by Nur al-Din, but was unsuccessful. He sent an advisor with a troop of knights to protect another city, Azaz. He himself could not stay in Antioch (William of Tyre recorded that affairs in Jerusalem needed his attention).
Around this time, however, the split between Baldwin and his mother, Queen Melisende, began to widen. (See the illustration in which he is admonishing her.) Troops loyal to Melisende refused to march to Antioch, perhaps wanting to prevent Baldwin from achieving victory.
There was also a problem in the kingdom's chancery. Melisende wanted to make Ralph the Englishman, the current chancellor of Jerusalem, the archbishop of Tyre. There was opposition to this from the bishops, and Melisende abandoned the conflict with the Church by giving up on Ralph and dismissing him. She could not appoint another with the consent of her co-ruler. Baldwin decided to keep Ralph as his advisor after Melisende dismissed him.
After this incident, the two co-rulers issued charters separate from each other through chancery. Melisende's charters mentioned Baldwin's name; Baldwin dropped Melisende's name from his pronouncements.
Melisende's most loyal supporters were in the southern part of the kingdom. Baldwin tried to consolidate power in the north, in the coastal cities of Acre and Tyre. When Melisende granted land in that area to the Hospitallers, however, Baldwin did not object, probably to maintain good relations with that particular fighting force. He found his own method of passive retaliation by re-fortifying Gaza in the south.
Baldwin made one very smart move. Byzantine Emperor Manuel I Comnenos asked for the six fortresses of the County of Edessa (it was an exchange, but the details are not important for us). Baldwin, seeing how difficult it was to defend these, gave them willingly. Within months they were lost to the Turks, and Baldwin avoided the blame for their loss.
Then Melisende made a move that disturbed Baldwin: she named her younger son, Amalric, as the Count of Jaffa without Baldwin's approval. Amalric was 15, and giving him a title of his own was not an unknown thing for a prince, but Baldwin may have seen this move—and the fact that Melisende was including Amalric's name in her charters—as an attempt to set brother against brother.
Before we go further to see the definitive clash between Melisende and Baldwin, we should learn about Amalric. See you next time.
After the defeat and embarrassment of the Bosra incident, Queen Melisende tried to keep her son and co-ruler, King Baldwin III of Jerusalem, out of the spotlight. Charters issued from the throne after this included her younger son, Amalric, as if he were equal to Baldwin in authority.
When Pope Eugene III called for a Second Crusade in 1148 after the fall of Edessa, France and Germany responded. It would seem to be easier now, since the First Crusade established a foothold in the Middle East. The German forces were led by King Conrad III. They arrived in Jerusalem in April and met Baldwin (a male needed to lead the military, so this was one official function Melisende could not perform), along with the Templars.
Because Edessa had been so thoroughly damaged that it would be difficult to defend if re-taken, the Crusaders decided to attack and conquer Damascus instead. Damascus was controlled by Unur, an ally of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, so Melisende should have been against this course of action. If Baldwin could lead the army along with the Crusade on a successful military mission, his people would see his value and he could become more popular than his mother.
Melisende went with the army to Palmarea, one of their cities near Acre, where on 24 June 1148 they met up with the French contingent led by King Louis VII, who was accompanied by his wife, Eleanor of Aquitaine. All agreed to lay siege to Damascus.
They first approached Darayya, a city a few miles southwest from Damascus, but for some reason did not conquer it, deciding instead to move southeast of Damascus. This new location had little in the way of provisions or even water, and behind them Muslim forces prevented them from going back to Darayya. With the news that more Muslim forces were approaching, and with constant attacks on their hastily constructed defenses, the Crusaders started to panic. They retreated in disorder to save their lives.
Accusations of betrayal arose. Michael the Syrian (1126 - 1199), the Syriac Orthodox Patriarch of Antioch, wrote that Damascus had offered Baldwin 200,000 gold dinars if he could get the Crusade to withdraw from Damascus. The story continues that the dinars were delivered, only to turn out to be gold-plated copper. (There is no proof of this story.)
The failure of the attempted Siege of Damascus (pictured) gave Melisende the opportunity to further reduce Baldwin's authority. Charters after this do not even carry his name.
It was only a year later that he tried, again, to manage a military campaign. Would it surprise you that he was unsuccessful? His mother's confidence in him was steadily deteriorating. A serious clash was forthcoming, which we will see forming tomorrow.
The decision to go to Bosra (pictured) and help Altuntash become ruler of the Hauran against the wishes of Damascene ruler Mu'in ad-Din Unur was taken by Baldwin III of Jerusalem for reasons that had more to do with saving face in front of the army rather than making a sound military decision.
Baldwin and the army had to go east into territory that was unfamiliar, finding provisions along the way. Once they arrived on a plain in southwestern Syria, they found themselves surrounded and outnumbered by Turkish forces they did not anticipate.
They should have anticipated this, however. The Bosra expedition had put them in opposition to Unur, who was an ally of the Kingdom of Jerusalem. By communicating their intent to him, they gave him time to alert others to the incursion. Unur had summoned an ally to keep an eye on the Franks. No battle took place, but the Frankish army had to move slowly, and by the time they reached Bosra, they were in for a disappointment.
While Altuntash was away from home seeking help, his wife had handed Bosra over to the Turks. Caught as strangers in a strange land with no allies and a failed quest, they chose to retreat. The Turks hampered their survival by setting fire to crops, giving the Franks dangers to overcome and a scarcity of food to find.
According to one report, in the midst of the fires, the soldiers offered Baldwin the swiftest horse to allow him to try to reach safety—he was, after all, their king. Baldwin, however, wisely refused, since from such a cowardly act he would never be able to regain the confidence and respect of the army—he was, after all, their king.
William of Tyre claimed the Franks owed their survival to divine intervention. Archbishop of Nazareth Robert I had a piece of the True Cross; he raised it high, and the wind changed direction, blowing the flames away from the Franks. There was also a story of a knight on a white horse with a red banner miraculously appearing and leading the army to safety.
A contemporary Arab chronicler of Damascus, writing a little later from eyewitness accounts, informs us that Unur held back his army, allowing the Franks to leave without incident to avoid a larger military retaliation later.
Melisende (rightly) ascribed the failure of this campaign to Baldwin, and used it to exclude him from future decisions.
But it was 1147, and Europe was already planning what would become known as the Second Crusade. As King of Jerusalem, Baldwin would of course become involved. This would lead to another military failure with lots of finger pointing, and some of the fingers would point at Baldwin, but that's a story for tomorrow.
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