The Reconquest Kings Of Portugal Political And

Cultural Reorientation On The Medieval Frontier

Stephen Lay Auth download

https://ebookbell.com/product/the-reconquest-kings-of-portugal-
political-and-cultural-reorientation-on-the-medieval-frontier-
stephen-lay-auth-5368848

Explore and download more ebooks at ebookbell.com

Here are some recommended products that we believe you will be
interested in. You can click the link to download.

The Reconquest Kings Of Portugal Stephen Lay

https://ebookbell.com/product/the-reconquest-kings-of-portugal-
stephen-lay-18650232

The Reconquest Of Burma 194445 Robert Lyman

https://ebookbell.com/product/the-reconquest-of-burma-194445-robert-
lyman-59481772

The Reconquest Of Burma 194445 From Operation Capital To The Sittang

Bend Robert Lyman

https://ebookbell.com/product/the-reconquest-of-burma-194445-from-
operation-capital-to-the-sittang-bend-robert-lyman-50881600

The Reconquest Of The New World Multinational Enterprises And Spains

Direct Investment In Latin America Pablo Toral

https://ebookbell.com/product/the-reconquest-of-the-new-world-
multinational-enterprises-and-spains-direct-investment-in-latin-
america-pablo-toral-44004112
The Reconquest Of Burma 194445 From Operation Capital To The Sittang
Bend Robert Lyman Johnny Shumate

https://ebookbell.com/product/the-reconquest-of-burma-194445-from-
operation-capital-to-the-sittang-bend-robert-lyman-johnny-
shumate-59481770

The River War An Historical Account Of The Reconquest Of Soudan 2012

Winston Churchill

https://ebookbell.com/product/the-river-war-an-historical-account-of-
the-reconquest-of-soudan-2012-winston-churchill-11802388

Retribution The Soviet Reconquest Of Central Ukraine 1943 Prit Buttar

https://ebookbell.com/product/retribution-the-soviet-reconquest-of-
central-ukraine-1943-prit-buttar-35165804

Retribution The Soviet Reconquest Of Central Ukraine 1943 Prit Buttar

https://ebookbell.com/product/retribution-the-soviet-reconquest-of-
central-ukraine-1943-prit-buttar-10558876

The World Of El Cid Chronicles Of The Spanish Reconquest Simon Barton

https://ebookbell.com/product/the-world-of-el-cid-chronicles-of-the-
spanish-reconquest-simon-barton-46276224
The Reconquest Kings of Portugal
This page intentionally left blank
The Reconquest Kings
of Portugal
Political and Cultural Reorientation
on the Medieval Frontier

Stephen Lay
© Stephen Lay 2009
Softcover reprint of the hardcover 1st edition 2009 978-0-230-52561-0
All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this
publication may be made without written permission.
No portion of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted
save with written permission or in accordance with the provisions of the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, or under the terms of any licence
permitting limited copying issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency,
Saffron House, 6-10 Kirby Street, London EC1N 8TS.
Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication
may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
The author has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this work in
accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First published in 2009 by
PALGRAVE MACMILLAN
Palgrave Macmillan in the UK is an imprint of Macmillan Publishers Limited,
registered in England, company number 785998, of Houndmills, Basingstoke,
Hampshire RG21 6XS.
Palgrave Macmillan in the US is a division of St Martin’s Press LLC,
175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
Palgrave Macmillan is the global academic imprint of the above companies
and has companies and representatives throughout the world.
Palgrave® and Macmillan® are registered trademarks in the United States,
the United Kingdom, Europe and other countries.
ISBN 978-1-349-35786-4 ISBN 978-0-230-58313-9 (eBook)
DOI 10.1057/9780230583139
This book is printed on paper suitable for recycling and made from fully
managed and sustained forest sources. Logging, pulping and manufacturing
processes are expected to conform to the environmental regulations of
the country of origin.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Lay, Stephen.
The Reconquest Kings of Portugal: political and cultural
reorientation on the medieval frontier / Stephen Lay.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
1. Portugal – Politics and government – To 1580. 2. Monarchy –
Portugal – History. 3. Kings and rulers – Portugal – Biography. I. Title.
DP536.1.L39 2008
946.9⬘02072—dc22 2008029961
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 09
For my parents and for Yue Siew
This page intentionally left blank
Contents

Abbreviations viii

Introduction 1
1 Portuguese Society in the Eleventh Century:
Conquest, Reconquest or Convivencia? 6
2 Ambition in a World of Turmoil: Count Henry
(1096–1112) and Infanta Teresa (1112–1128) 37
3 The Nascent Kingdom: Consolidation and
Expansion under Afonso Henriques (1128–1148) 71
4 Papal Recognition of Portuguese Royalty (1147–1179) 103
5 Consolidation and Opportunity (1179–1211) 143
6 Shifting Priorities: Portuguese Relations with the
Latin Church in the Thirteenth Century 171
7 The Science of Kingship: Institutional Innovation
during the Reign of Afonso II (1211–1223) 205
8 The Final Campaign: Sancho II, Afonso III and the
Completion of the Reconquest in Portugal (1223–1250) 231
Conclusion: The Reconquest Kings of Portugal 261

Appendix: Portuguese Voices 265

Figures 270
Notes 273
Bibliography 309
Index 325

vii
Abbreviations

ADA ‘Annales D. Alfonsi Portugallensium regis’, ed. M. Blöcker-Walter.

APV ‘Annales Portugalenses veteres’, ed. P. David.
CAI Chronica Adefonsi Imperatoris, ed. A. Maya Sánchez.
CCCM Corpus Christianorum. Continuatio Mediaevalis.
CMP-A Chancelarias Medievais Portuguesas. Documentos de Chancelaria de
D. Afonso Henriques, ed. A. E. Reuter.
DMP Documentos Medievais Portugueses, Documentos Régios, ed. R. P. de
Azevedo.
DDS Documentos de D. Sancho I (1174–1211) eds R. P. de Azevedo,
A. de Jesus da Costa, and M. R. Pereira.
ES Espanˉa Sagrada, ed. E. Flórez.
HC Historia Compostellana, ed. E. Falque Rey.
JL Regesta Pontificum Romanorum, eds P. Jaffé, S. Löwenfeld,
W. Wattenbach, F. Kaltenbrunner and P. Ewald.
MGH Monumenta Germaniae Historica inde ab anno Christi quingentesimo
usque ad annum millesimum et quingentesimum, eds G. H. Pertz et al.
MGH SS MGH Scriptores in Folio et Quarto.
PL Patrologiae cursus completus, series Latina, ed. J.-P. Migne.
PMH Portugaliae Monumenta Historica, ed. A. Herculano.
PP Papsturkunden in Portugal, ed. C. Erdmann.

viii
Introduction

On 8 August 1064, after a gruelling six-month siege, the Muslim defenders

of Coimbra surrendered to forces led by King Fernando I of León-Castile.
This strategic riverbank city was to become the Portuguese capital for much
of the medieval period, and its capture marked a critical juncture in the
long struggle between Christendom and Islam for possession of the Iberian
Peninsula – the Reconquista – which in Portugal came to an end with the fall
of the last Muslim enclaves on the Algarve coast in 1250. The reconquest
in Portugal has frequently been subsumed into more general accounts of
the reconquest in Spain. Yet during the period between the mid-eleventh
and mid-thirteenth century Portugal developed from a small, embattled
county under the authority of the neighbouring monarch of León-Castile
into an independent kingdom with stable borders that have remained
largely unchanged until the present day. The successful prosecution of the
reconquest appears to have been intricately interconnected with a process
of national formation and the achievement of political independence from
Spain. The Portuguese historian Joaquim Veríssimo Serrão thus reflected an
opinion commonly held among his compatriots when he insisted: ‘Portugal
was, above all, a product of the reconquista.’1
The origins of the reconquest lie in the early decades of the eighth century –
when an invading Arab and Berber army brought Islam forcibly into the
Iberian Peninsula. The Christian Visigothic defenders were scattered at
the decisive battle of Gaudalete River in 711, and the last Visgothic king,
Roderick, was assumed killed in the melee. Organised opposition rapidly col-
lapsed, and the remnants of Visigothic society either submitted to Muslim
domination or fled into the distant north. These fugitives were eventually
rallied by Pelayo, the first king of Asturias, who then confronted the all-
conquering Muslim forces on a small hill known as Covadonga. Despite
Muslim numerical superiority and the blandishments of Bishop Oppa, who
spoke for those Christians willing to accept the domination of the invaders,
Pelayo remained resolute.

1
2 The Reconquest Kings of Portugal

[The bishop began] ‘My son, I think you are not unaware that all Spain
was formerly governed as one realm under the rule of the Goths and out-
shone all other lands in wisdom and learning. Also, as I said before, the
whole of the Goths when gathered together were not strong enough to
withstand the onrush of the Ishmailites [i.e. the Muslims]. How will you
therefore be able to defend yourself ... ?’
To this Pelayo replied: ‘Have you not read in Holy Scripture that the
Church of God can become as small as a grain of mustard and can then,
by God’s grace, be made to grow again even larger?’
The bishop answered: ‘Indeed it is so written.’
Pelayo said: ‘Then Christ is our hope [that] Spain may be saved and the
army of the Gothic people restored.’2

This stirring account from the anonymous Crónica de Alfonso III was accepted
by later historians as a classic statement of the defeated Visigothic people’s
desire to reclaim their usurped inheritance. The subsequent southern
expansion of the kingdom of Asturias could then be represented as a recon-
quest of lost territory that followed directly from Pelayo’s original act of
defiance. This connection neatly legitimised military aggression with both
a divine mandate and an appeal to natural justice. For generations of Iberian
historians the reconquest became the cornerstone of their perception of the
past. Ramón Menéndez Pidal followed a long and illustrious historical tradi-
tion when he assured his readers: ‘The proposal to recover all the soil of the
Fatherland, which never ceased to appeal to the mass of people ... had been
the united enterprise of all Spain.’3
Yet the concept of the reconquest, for all its political and patriotic utility,
was more complicated than jingoistic interpretations might suggest. Despite
exhaustive efforts by generations of Spanish historians, no physical evidence
of the encounter at Covadonga, either archaeological, numismatic or docu-
mentary, has been brought to light. There are no eighth-century accounts
of the battle, and almost two hundred years of silence lie between the event
and the earliest extant descriptions of it. Nor were these tenth-century
authors merely disinterested antiquarians. Behind the composition of this
epic tale of defiant resistance was a clear agenda: to link their own monarch,
Alfonso III of Asturias (866–910), to the long-defunct Visigothic kings. The
aim was nothing less than (to borrow Peter Linehan’s forceful metaphor)
the hijacking of a royal body and the theft of its identification papers!4 Even
before the Arab invasions, the Asturias region does not seem to have been
considered a part of the Visigothic kingdom; those few who took refuge
there had no greater claim to the Visigothic heritage than did the many of
their co-religionists who remained on their ancestral lands under Muslim
authority. Nor is the uncertain pedigree of the Asturian kings the only fac-
tor undermining the traditional construction of the reconquest. For there is
something inherently implausible, even contrary to human nature, in the
 Introduction 3

idea of an implacable sectarian animosity being maintained for centuries.

Over time relations appear to have evolved beyond the simple, unremitting
hostility attributed to Pelayo. Warfare, when it was waged, had concrete and
limited aims. A culture of convivencia, or coexistence, gradually prevailed,
in which economic, political and cultural links were maintained within
an atmosphere of pragmatic tolerance and enlightened self-interest. During
the tenth century faith-based antagonism was dwindling and many of the
more strident expressions of sectarian fervour appear to have been the polit-
ically motivated interpolations of later generations. Certainly in Portugal
this seems to have been the case. Large Muslim and Jewish communities
lived in relative harmony under Christian rule. Effective relationships were
maintained between cultures at all social levels. Only towards the end of
the eleventh century is there evidence of resurgent sectarian animosity.5
This re-emergence in Iberia of an ideology of confrontation appears to
have originated outside the peninsula. Portuguese leaders nevertheless chose
to place themselves at the forefront of the resulting clash of cultures, and
their efforts paid a handsome dividend in terms of territorial and political
gain. Among the most significant of these gains was a papal bull, Manifestis
probatum, issued on 23 May 1179 by Pope Alexander III (1159–1181). In this
bull Pope Alexander formally recognised Afonso Henriques (1128–1185),
the ruler and self-proclaimed king of Portugal, as monarch of a sovereign
realm. ‘You have been an intrepid destroyer of the enemies of the name of
Christ and a diligent supporter of the Christian faith,’ the pontiff approved,
‘leaving to posterity a praiseworthy name and an example to imitate.’6 The
delivery of Manifestis probatum marked a climax in the long campaign by
the ruling house of Portugal to establish an authority independent of the
neighbouring Spanish monarchs. Pope Alexander made clear in his endorse-
ment that a major factor in his support for Afonso’s royal pretensions was
the Portuguese leader’s success as a warrior defending the frontier between
Christendom and the Islamic world. What is less apparent, however, is the
means by which the Portuguese ruling house was able to translate military
success against Muslim forces to the south of Portugal into political inde-
pendence from the Christian Spanish kingdoms to the east.
A clue to where part of the answer might lie is in the nature of Manifestis
probatum itself. That Pope Alexander was in a position to determine the sta-
tus of a Portuguese ruler is a striking demonstration of the pervasive influ-
ence European institutions had come to exert in the Iberian Peninsula. In
his groundbreaking work The Making of Europe Robert Bartlett traced the
formation during the medieval period of an aggressively expansive Latin
Christian culture. This culture was created when a reform-minded Church,
eager to impose ecclesiastic conformity on Christian society, found a con-
vergence of interest with an adventurous, land-hungry and militarily profi-
cient secular society.7 From the tenth century onwards, pressure from this
expansionist Latin Christendom began to be felt throughout the Iberian
4 The Reconquest Kings of Portugal

Peninsula. Encroaching foreign influence had many manifestations: the

direct immigration of individuals and institutions; the development of
commercial and social networks; and, perhaps most pervasively, the transfer
of ideas and social mores. As a result of this increased communication there
gradually emerged among European and Iberian Christians a sense of com-
monality, of an identity based on shared faith and through it a shared cul-
ture. But even as community identities widened to include peoples widely
separated geographically, those of alternative faiths were correspondingly
excluded. Crucially for the future direction of Portugal, Afonso Henriques
personified the cultural dichotomy of his society: for he was the son of an
Iberian princess, Infanta Teresa, and an immigrant Latin Christian noble-
man, Count Henry of Burgundy. By virtue of this mixed ancestry Afonso –
and subsequently the royal dynasty he founded – were well placed to take
fullest advantage of the gradual reorientation of Portuguese society from a
characteristically pluralistic Iberian culture into the south-western frontier
of an uncompromisingly orthodox Latin Christendom.
This book is certainly not the first attempt to assess the impact of the
reconquest on the development of Portugal. The debt owed to the body of
work already directed towards these critical centuries will be immediately
apparent from the footnotes presented. Nevertheless, over a period of time,
significant gaps have opened between several different spheres of schol-
arly interest. Portuguese historians have built up an impressive tradition
of research on the early history of their country, yet it is a historiography
that is not always easily accessible to the non-Portuguese reader. Moreover,
an underlying agenda for much of this scholarly effort has been to trace
(and thus to justify) the achievement of political independence from Spain.
Traditional Portuguese historiography of the reconquest period has, as
Derek Lomax observed, ‘preferred to stress the individuality of Portugal as
against the rest of the peninsula, and so [has] laid more emphasis on rela-
tions with the Leonese and Castilians than with the Muslims.’8 This focus
on the local has similarly tended to marginalise the role of Latin Christian
cultural influence during this decisive period in Portuguese history. On the
other hand, scholars working outside the Iberian Peninsula have tended to
concentrate their attention on Portugal’s larger neighbour, Spain. Although
this approach is readily explained by factors such as the relative size of the
two countries, the similarities in their historical development, and the often
arbitrary geographical border between them, there is a danger that the very
real distinctiveness of Portuguese development can be obscured.
The purpose of this book, therefore, is twofold. The initial aim is to provide
for the Anglophone reader an entry point into a remarkable period in the
history of a remarkable country. Yet Portugal did not develop in isolation.
A secondary aim of this book is to highlight the pervasive and multifaceted
nature of Latin Christian influence in the region during this formative his-
torical phase. Admittedly, this focus on the strengthening links between
 Introduction 5

Portugal and Europe cannot help but marginalise a number of important

internal historical processes – although references in the footnotes should
allow those with special interests in these areas to pursue them further.
The compensations, however, are many. As Robert Bartlett has observed,
‘the expansionary power of [Latin Christian] civilization sprang from its
centres, even if it may be seen most starkly at its edges.’9 While this book
is primarily intended as an introduction to the fascinating early history of
one small kingdom, it approaches this history by examining the profound
and ultimately decisive effects of the very forces that forged Latin Christian
Europe as a whole.
1
Portuguese Society in the
Eleventh Century: Conquest,
Reconquest or Convivencia?

Eleventh-century Portuguese society was the product of a unique combina-

tion of geography and history. Rugged mountain ranges rising to heights
of almost 2,000 meters hedge the region to the east, making direct travel
into central Spain difficult and hazardous. This isolation encouraged self-
sufficiency and a mistrust of outside interference, characteristics that were
embedded more deeply by the passage of time. Prehistoric tribes, Celts,
Phoenicians, Romans and Visigoths all left their mark upon the landscape
and on the consciousness of its inhabitants. An accumulation of legends,
ancient place names and overgrown ruins linked the eleventh-century
Portuguese with the distant past. Yet the realities of day-to-day existence
during this period were shaped above all by the cataclysmic events of the
Arab invasions in 711.1
The first dire tidings of the Visigothic defeat at the Guadalete River
reached the peoples in the westernmost reaches of the peninsula quickly,
and perhaps in the most dramatic of forms. There is a persistent local legend
that the body of the slain King Roderick, last of the Visigothic monarchs,
was borne in secret to the Portuguese city of Viseu for burial in the church
of S. Miguel do Fetal.2 The armies of the first Muslim invasion force, led by
Tāriq b. Ziyād under the authority of Mūsā b. Nusayr, the governor of Africa,
initially concentrated their efforts in the Visigothic heartland and did not
press their advantage into the west of the peninsula. This respite lasted only
three years. In 714, a second Muslim army, commanded by Mūsā b. Nusayr’s
son ‘Abd al-‘Azı̄z, marched westwards in search of further conquests. The
unfortunate citizens of Beja, Mértola and Ossónoba (Faro) resisted and their
walls were taken by storm, although this may well have been a convenient
fiction on the part of the invaders, since under Muslim law a failed defi-
ance allowed the victors to claim the goods and lands of the vanquished.
Perhaps these events cowed the peoples of the north into submission, or
perhaps the invaders had simply secured sufficient land for their needs in

6
 Portuguese Society in the Eleventh Century 7

the fertile south. In any event, treaties were made with northern magnates
leaving Christians in possession of their estates, governed under their own
law codes and liable only for a special tax levied on all non-Muslims living
under Islamic rule.3
Relatively few of the invaders established themselves in the less hospitable
regions north of the Mondego River. These hardy settlers were in the main
Berber tribesmen, and along with their religion and culture, they carried
with them their inherited feuds and ethnic prejudices. In 741 these tensions
flared into open conflict when the Berber peoples revolted against the rule of
their Arab co-religionists. Al-Andalus, as Muslim Spain came to be known to
its inhabitants, was cast into turmoil and the northwestern territory – the al-
Gharb – denuded of defenders as the Berber tribesmen marched southwards
to eventual defeat at the hands of an Arab-Syrian army. The repression of
the Berber peoples in the wake of this defeat, coupled with a major famine
in 750, caused many of the survivors to abandon Iberia altogether.4 They
were to be sorely missed by those they left unguarded, for in the mountains
of Asturias the descendents of Pelayo had consolidated their strength and
were beginning to expand southwards. The Chronicon Albeldense records a
series of attacks by Pelayo’s son-in-law, Alfonso I (739–757), which devastated
the Douro region. The towns of Porto, Braga, Chaves and Viseu were sacked
and their populations forcibly resettled in Asturian-controlled lands to the
north.5 Florid contemporary descriptions of Alfonso’s raids encouraged later
commentators to portray the Douro valley during this period as a desolate
no-man’s land, completely devoid of inhabitants. Although this seems to
exaggerate the level of destruction caused, civic centres were apparently laid
in ruins; the population declined sharply as a southwards retreat took place;
and political authority devolved into the hands of regional aristocracies.6
In the decades that followed, Muslim and Christian leaders would both
attempt to fill this power vacuum. The Ummayad amir ‘Abd al Rahmān II
(822–852) ordered the construction of an impressive citadel (which survives
to the present day) in the southern city of Mértola. Just how far northwards
these troops could have imposed Ummayad authority is uncertain; in any
event, the death of ‘Abd al Rahmān’s in 852 ended the attempt.7 Initiative
inexorably passed to the resurgent Christian forces. The discovery in the 830s
of a tomb at Compostela believed to be that of St James the Apostle provided
the Christian kingdoms with an enviable heavenly patron; the elevation of
Alfonso III three decades later ended a long period of uncertain leadership
and offered the firm rule necessary to direct this energy into a new wave of
expansionism. In 868, the region between the Minho and the Douro rivers
was secured and constituted as the county of ‘Portucale’ under Vímara Peres
(869–873). Among the legacies of the first count of Portucale was the found-
ing of the city that bore his name: Vimaranis – modern day Guimarães.
The ancient religious centre of Braga was also occupied and resettled, as
was the border town of Chaves to the north, along with Viseu and Lamego
8 The Reconquest Kings of Portugal

to the south. In 878, a full decade after the re-establishment of Porto, the
strategically vital city of Coimbra on the Mondego River was finally secured
by Christian forces. This city quickly grew to become the centre of another
county under the authority of Hermenegildo Guterres (878–911), and the
Mondego River was thus established as the semi-permeable frontier with the
Islamic world. During this period authority was further concentrated into
the hands of the local aristocratic families, particularly the descendants of
Vímara Peres and Hermenegildo Guterres, who guarded their growing pres-
tige jealously.8
The final years of the tenth century saw the pendulum of relative strength
begin to swing again, this time against the Christians. The Galician sea-
board was menaced by the return of an old enemy, when a series of Viking
raids struck at the coastal communities. In 966 the bishop of Iria was killed
in battle defending the shrine of St James, and for the next half-century the
dragon-ships of the North would remain a constant danger. Spanish resist-
ance was undermined by internal divisions among the defenders; revolts
by leading magnates, including the counts of both Portucale and Coimbra,
squandered military capacity at what was to prove a particularly dangerous
time, for to the south a new threat was rising. In order to unify the disparate
communities of al-Andalus Muhammad b. Abı̄ ‘ mir (981–1002) adopted a
policy of directing the belligerence of his subjects outward, against the dis-
organised Christian kingdoms, and his success earned him the cognomen
‘al-Mansūr’ (the victorious). In a series of extended campaigns, during which
the disunity of the defenders often told against them, Christian forces were
pushed back over the Douro River and the city of Coimbra was retaken by
Muslim forces in 987. Al-Mansūr emphasised his military superiority a dec-
ade later by leading an army across the river and blazing a trail of destruc-
tion through Galicia to Compostela, where the sanctuary was destroyed and
the church bells carried back to Cordoba in triumph.9 As the tenth century
drew to a close over the ashes of Compostela the Christian Spanish may well
have wondered whether their patron saint had abandoned them. With the
dawning of a new century, however, the pendulum began to swing back in
their direction once more.

The eleventh-century Christian resurgence

Military strategy in northern Portugal was to a large extent dictated by the

realities of physical geography. Mountains dominate the topography and
create a significant barrier to any travel towards the east. The most densely
settled areas were (and are) in the coastal zone and along the river valleys
that transect the region. These river valleys could constitute formidable bar-
riers to north–south travel and possession of strong points commanding the
banks were necessary to establish a defensible frontier. At the end of the tenth
century the campaigns of al-Mansūr had forced the Christians back to a ten-
uous hold on the northern bank of the Douro River; there they consolidated
 Portuguese Society in the Eleventh Century 9

their strength and awaited an opportunity to return in force to the Mondego

valley. This patience was finally rewarded in the middle years of the eleventh
century, and the resulting campaign established permanent Christian con-
trol over the territorial heartland of the future nation of Portugal.
To the great relief of the battered Spanish forces, their fearsome enemy
al-Mansū r breathed his last in 1002. The attempt by ‘Abd al-Malik al-
Muzaffar, al-Mansū r’s able and energetic son, to continue military opera-
tions against the Christians ended with his own death in 1008. An unclear
line of succession led to a civil war that lasted for over two decades and,
when no single leader proved strong enough to restore unity, the caliphate
fractured into a number of independent taifa states (from the Arabic taifa
meaning ‘banner’). In al-Gharb the largest of these newly emerged states
was centred on Badajoz. Initially the smaller territories of Mértola, Silves,
Gibraleon, Huelva and Niebla remained autonomous, but in the decades
after 1040 these were gradually annexed by Seville, bringing the two most
powerful states into direct rivalry.10 In the Christian North, meanwhile, a
strong leader had emerged in the person of King Fernando I of León-Castile
(1037–1065). Through a combination of good fortune and military prow-
ess King Fernando was able to unite the fractious Christian communities
under his authority. Taking advantage of Muslim disunity Christian forces
launched a series of bold military operations against the border strong-
holds of al-Andalus.
In the far west of the peninsula the groundwork for this crucial campaign
had already been laid. Gonçalo Trastamires, the head of a powerful local aris-
tocratic family, took advantage of a chance opportunity to capture the town
of Montemor-o-Velho in 1034. Four years later he consolidated this success by
securing nearby Avenoso.11 As discord among the Muslims deepened, King
Fernando committed royal forces in a concerted effort to extend his influ-
ence further into the south. This advance began in 1057 with the capture
of Seia and then Lamego, the last Muslim-held city in the Douro valley. The
following summer Christian forces began their advance to the Mondego with
the reduction of Viseu in July 1058. This victory was particularly satisfying
for King Fernando because his grandfather, Alfonso V of León (999–1028),
had been killed by a chance arrow while attacking the same city three dec-
ades earlier. Having exacted his belated revenge, Fernando returned to over-
see operations in the eastern marches of his kingdom, leaving the task of
securing the countryside around Viseu to local forces. However, by 1064, the
king was back in the west undertaking a six-month siege that ended with the
negotiated surrender of Coimbra early in July. The capture of the city was a
decisive strategic success, particularly with the benefit of hindsight. Though
Muslim raiding parties might occasionally cross the Mondego River, posses-
sion of the northern bank had passed to the Christians and the process of
resettling the captured territory could begin afresh.12
Fernando moved quickly to consolidate his newly captured territory.
Authority in Coimbra was granted to Sisnando Davides, a man whose
10 The Reconquest Kings of Portugal

remarkable career had more than prepared him for this delicate task.
Sisnando was born in the Coimbra region, possibly at Montemor-o-Velho,
and as a child he suffered the misfortune of being captured by a Muslim raid-
ing party from Seville. Despite this inauspicious beginning, and his choice
to remain faithful to the Christian religion, Sisnando was able to reach high
office in Seville – an example indeed of the culture of religious tolerance
that prevailed in the Muslim taifa states. A disagreement of unknown cause
with the rulers of the city eventually urged Sisnando northwards in search
of new opportunities. He was warmly welcomed by Fernando of León-
Castile, who immediately recognised Sisnando’s special qualifications. For
even though Sisnando had continued to profess the faith of his birth, he
was one of the many Christians who through close association with Islamic
society had adopted the culture and language of the Arabs. Members of
this peculiarly Iberian cultural subgroup were known in Christian soci-
ety as ‘Mozarabs’, from the Arabic term musta’rab or musta’rib (one who
claims to be an Arab).13 There was already a sizeable Mozarabic community
in Coimbra, and Fernando no doubt hoped to encourage their loyalty by
appointing Sisnando to rule over them. At the same time, because Sisnando
was something of an outsider among the local aristocracy, his appointment
was less likely to strengthen the hands of jealous noble families in resisting
royal authority. Finally, Sisnando’s knowledge and familiarity with Muslim
society made him an ideal royal representative to develop relations with
the taifa rulers that went beyond simple belligerence. Sisnando would soon
be called upon to demonstrate all his political and diplomatic skills.14
One short year after the capture of Coimbra the long period of Christian
military success came to a sudden end with the unexpected death of King
Fernando on 24 June 1065. Spanish unity dissolved almost immediately as, in
accordance with both Iberian tradition and the king’s last wishes, the realm
and its assets were divided among his heirs. The king’s two daughters, Urraca
and Elvira, received the cities of Zamora and Toro, respectively. The eldest
of his sons, Sancho II (1065–1072), inherited the Castilian component of his
father’s territories along with a lucrative financial tribute paid to the royal
treasury by the Muslim city of Zaragoza. The second son, Alfonso VI (1065–
1109), received what was potentially the richest of the inheritances: the royal
lands of León along with the annual gold tribute from Toledo. An awkward
amalgam consisting of the territories of Galicia and Portucale, combined with
the newly captured lands between the Douro and Mondego rivers, and the
financial tribute paid by Muslim Badajoz, became the kingdom assigned to
the youngest of Fernando’s sons, Garcia II (1065–1073).15 King Garcia was
probably in his early twenties at the time of his accession and the policies he
adopted reflect a certain youthful impetuousness. His reign, though a tumul-
tuous and ultimately unsuccessful one, nevertheless did have important long-
term ramifications for the future development of Portugal.16
 Portuguese Society in the Eleventh Century 11

Only a handful of charters survive from King Garcia’s royal chancery, but
the story they tell is a revealing one. The young king inherited an unstable
realm dominated by an entrenched local nobility. During his father’s reign
great efforts had been made to curb the influence of these noble houses
through the appointment in the region of royal agents such as Sisnando
Davides.17 Garcia, however, adopted a more direct approach. On 24 March
1066 the king summoned together the dignitaries of his realm to witness
the formal humiliation of one of their number: the Portuguese nobleman
Garcia Monnioniz, governor of Anegia (modern Arouca). The unfortu-
nate nobleman and his wife were forced to sign an oddly sinister docu-
ment in which they testified that it was not through fear of punishment
or death, but rather with great joy, that they signed over their ancestral
lands to the king. Both husband and wife were then exiled to Castile. While
King Garcia’s justification for this precipitous act of royal autocracy went
unrecorded, the reaction of the local aristocracy to such an attack on their
ancient rights and privileges can be easily imagined. Such misgivings were
no doubt intensified when Garcia used the confiscated territory to enrich
his own followers. On 4 January 1068 the title of governor and a portion
of the land seized from Garcia Monnioniz were granted to Munio Venegas;
and on 16 May 1070, a similar substantial grant was made to another royal
favourite, Afonso Ramires, in return for unspecified services.18 Meanwhile,
King Garcia complemented this direct assault on aristocratic autonomy with
a more subtle policy of royal intervention in the affairs of the realm through
the installation of sympathetic church officials.
Ecclesiastical authority in the newly established kingdom of Galicia-
Portugal was complicated by the ambitions of several leading churchmen.
Bishop Vistuario of Lugo saw in the arrival of the new king an opportunity
for the preferment of his church and became a frequent attendee at Garcia’s
court. Did he aspire to the archbishop’s mitre as metropolitan of the king-
dom? If so, his ambitions would have brought him into direct competition
with the equally ambitious Bishop Cresconio of Iria, whose responsibilities
encompassed the increasingly popular (and thus wealthy) pilgrimage site at
Compostela. However, King Garcia appeared to have an agenda of his own.
Ostensibly responding to a pious request from the two rival bishops, the
king supported the re-establishment of the ancient and illustrious see of
Braga. A local man, Bishop Pedro (1071–1091), was given authority over the
church that, prior to the Arab invasion, had been the metropolitan of the
ecclesiastical province of Galicia.19 Nor was this the end of the young king’s
enthusiasm for church reconstruction: he also drew up plans to install new
bishops in Lamego and Túy. While Garcia’s ecclesiastical initiatives may
well have contained an element of personal piety, there were also concrete
benefits to be gained. Newly installed bishops were in effect royal agents,
expected to intervene in local affairs at the king’s behest. At the same time,
the lands required to support the new benefices was sequestered in large
12 The Reconquest Kings of Portugal

part from the local families themselves – thus, not only did the aristocratic
houses find themselves with unwanted ecclesiastics forced upon them, but
they were also obliged to pay for their upkeep. Passions rose across the king-
dom, ultimately with tragic consequences, for in 1069, Bishop Cresconio
of Iria’s successor, Bishop Gudestes (1068–1069), was murdered by his own
uncle.20 If the unfortunate bishop was the first victim of the growing oppo-
sition to Garcia’s style of leadership, as seems highly probable, he was cer-
tainly not to be the last.
Even as Bishop Pedro was taking up his new responsibilities at Braga, aris-
tocratic disenchantment reached a point of crisis. One of the leading local
magnates, Count Nuno Mendes of Portucale, rose in revolt against royal
authority. Fully aware of the danger posed by this rebellion, King Garcia
moved with alacrity and caught Count Nuno unprepared at Penderosa,
north of Braga, in February 1071. Royal troops scattered the rebel forces
and Nuno Mendes, the last male descendant of Vímara Peres, founder of
Portucale, was killed in the rout.21 Yet King Garcia was granted little lei-
sure to savour his military triumph. The rise of domestic turmoil within
the kingdom had attracted opportunistic attention from beyond its borders;
and while the sequence of event is uncertain, it seems most likely that King
Alfonso of León, whose territory bordered that of Garcia, struck the first
blow.22 In the absence of strong local support, Garcia was forced to retreat
before his brother’s invading forces. Meanwhile, King Sancho of Castile,
carefully watching events from a distance, decided he could not allow
Alfonso unchallenged occupation of Galicia-Portugal, and so launched an
attack of his own. The elder brothers met at the battle of Golpejera in June
1072, from which Sancho emerged victorious. The defeated Alfonso of León
was first imprisoned in Burgos and subsequently exiled to Muslim Toledo.
Sancho followed up his success at Golpejera with an invasion of Galicia-
Portugal that ended with Garcia being captured near Santarém and then
banished to Seville.
Fortune, however, had another twist in store, and Garcia’s exile in Muslim
lands proved to be a short one. Only a few of months after his arrival mes-
sengers reached Seville bearing the sensational news that King Sancho had
been assassinated outside the walls of Zamora while attempting to force obe-
dience on his sister, Urraca. Sensing an opportunity to restore his position,
Garcia enlisted the aid of the ruler of Seville, al-Mu’tamid, and then hurried
northwards to press his ancestral claims. But the young king was already
too late. His elder brother Alfonso had reached the kingdom first and moved
quickly to secure their joint inheritance. He had no interest in sharing
power. Aided, it would seem, by their formidable sister Urraca, Alfonso lured
the trusting Garcia to a prearranged meeting place on the pretext of seeking
a negotiated settlement, then promptly ordered him arrested. The hapless
younger brother was subsequently confined to the castle of Luna. Though
relatively well treated during his long imprisonment, the former king was
 Portuguese Society in the Eleventh Century 13

forced to wear chains until his death almost two decades later. According to
legend, on his deathbed Garcia refused his elder brother’s offer to have the
manacles removed, and so was buried still wearing them. His tumultuous
life and unhappy fate would subsequently make King Garcia a favourite sub-
ject for poets and balladeers. Meanwhile, however, the short-lived kingdom
of Galicia-Portugal was absorbed into a reunited León-Castile.23
Although King Garcia has never been numbered among the Portuguese
monarchs, his reign did have important long-term repercussions for the
region. Garcia’s most obvious legacy was in the ecclesiastical initiatives that
had provoked such strong local unrest. The reconstruction of Braga created
another node in the pattern of ecclesiastical tension in western Iberia, and
over time the ambitious churchmen of the ancient metropolitan were to
play a key role in the development of Portugal. Garcia’s rule also highlighted
the difficulty any central authority faced in countering the influence of the
local aristocracy. Entrenched interests might be shaken, as with the death
of Count Nuno Mendes; yet new power arrangements were constantly being
formed. Thus Sisnando Davides, who held authority in Coimbra throughout
Garcia’s reign, had married Nuno Mendes’ daughter Loba Aurovelido and
integrated into local aristocratic circles. Sisnando’s success, moreover, high-
lighted another aspect of eleventh-century Portuguese society: its pragma-
tism towards cultural difference. The count of Coimbra’s Mozarabic heritage
appears to have presented no barriers to his advancement up the aristocratic
ranks. Similarly too, sectarian issues played little part in Garcia’s dealings
with external powers. The young king maintained effective relations with
the Muslim taifas to the degree that, despite the rising turmoil in the king-
dom, he never faced attack from the south. In fact, as his position deterio-
rated, Garcia may well have sought aid from the taifa rulers. His eventual
capture near Santarém, deep in Muslim territory, certainly suggests some
form of collusion had taken place; and following Sancho’s death, Garcia
seems to have won the support of al-Mu’tamid in his failed bid to regain
the throne. In the final analysis, Garcia’s pragmatic policies towards the
Muslims, in common with his attempts to harness the power of the Church
and the local nobility, proved insufficient to bring political stability to his
realm. Nevertheless, these strategies were not inherently flawed. From his
gilded royal prison, Garcia may well have taken some cold comfort in the
knowledge that his elder brother Alfonso pursued many of the same policies
in the region with far greater success.

The triumph of political pragmatism under

Alfonso VI (1072–1085)

By the beginning of 1073 Portugal had come under the control of Alfonso
VI, king of the reunited realm of León-Castile. This formidable monarch
would continue to exercise undisputed suzerainty over the region until
14 The Reconquest Kings of Portugal

his death in 1109. During Alfonso’s reign the pragmatic approach to cross-
cultural relations adopted by earlier monarchs came to full fruition. The
Leonese king displayed an unusual ability to consider alternative cultural
perspectives – both Christian and non-Christian – and this characteristic
would underpin his most important long-term legacies in Portugal. During
the long southern expansion significant numbers of Jewish and Muslim
people had been overtaken by the tides of war and incorporated into
Spanish society. The western regions of the peninsula, in common with
many other areas under Alfonso’s control, developed a cultural pluralism in
which large Jewish and Muslim communities coexisted relatively peacefully
under Christian authority. In Portugal, however, the delicate task of ruling
this multicultural society was complicated by the presence of an unusually
large concentration of Mozarabic Christians.
The Jewish presence in Iberia stretched back into antiquity. Under the rule
of the Visigothic kings Jewish communities suffered significant persecution,
and so had considerable justification for welcoming the eighth-century Arab
invasions. The Muslim rulers of al-Andalus granted the Jewish minority the
protected status of dhimm or ‘people of the book’ (in common with the
Christian minority) and allowed them a measure of self-government under
their own religious laws. Individuals pursued artistic and literary excellence,
or filled high administrative office in Muslim cities.24 Later, as the Spanish
kings forced the frontier southwards, many Jewish communities fell under
their control and were able to retain significant rights. Senior clergymen
outside the peninsula viewed this situation with some disapproval, and in
1081, Pope Gregory VII (1073–1085) admonished Alfonso against allowing
Jews any authority over Christians. The repetition of such papal injunctions
suggests that secular powers were slow to obey.25 Similar conditions seem
to have prevailed in Portugal, with Jews appearing as merchants and prop-
erty owners in major cities. In Coimbra, for example, a prosperous Jewish
quarter had developed and one of its residents was in a position to sell to
Afonso Henriques the land on which the royal monastery of Santa Cruz was
subsequently built.26
The situation for Muslims under Christian authority in many ways paral-
leled that of the Jews.27 The Muslim minority was known to their Christian
rulers as ‘Mudejars’, from the Arabic al-mudajjan (those allowed to remain)
and there was a certain rough irony in this designation. It referred not
only to those Muslims who elected to remain on their land after it had
come under Christian control, but also to those unfortunates captured and
enslaved during military operations.28 The latter were in all likelihood the
more numerous. With Muslim legal scholars arguing that the duty of the
faithful was to withdraw rather than submit, the majority of those wealthy
enough to relocate to Muslim-held areas generally did so. Those who stayed
appear to have been predominantly agricultural workers and the urban
poor.29 Nevertheless, when gathered in sufficient numbers, these people
 Portuguese Society in the Eleventh Century 15

could usually obtain rights of self-jurisdiction along with freedom of wor-

ship. Rodrigo Diaz, ‘the Cid’, provides a famous example of the powers of
collective bargaining. When the Cid captured Valencia in June 1094 he
sought to reassure the anxious citizens with the following observation:

God has bounteously given me Valencia and I rule it. If I conduct myself
justly here and put affairs in order, God will leave me in possession of
the city; but if I do wrong here by injustice or out of pride, I know that
He will take it from me. From today, let each one go to his estate ... and
resume ownership of it as the law of the Moors requires ... .30

Rodrigo made no reference to a religious or historical mandate of any

kind. Instead he based his claims on his own ability and the expectation
that God would grant justice on strictly non-doctrinal lines. In Portugal
too, documents record the presence of significant minorities within fron-
tier towns, and efforts were made to formalise relations between different
cultural groups. Thus, a charter granted by Afonso VI to the border town
of Santarém in 1095 includes measures to regulate interaction between
Christians, Muslims and Jews. Such measures remained an important fea-
ture of Portuguese town charters and royal initiatives to protect minority
groups continued throughout the eleventh and the twelfth century.31
While the positions of Jews and Muslims under Christian rule were
in many ways similar, a third significant minority group, the Mozarabic
Christians, could not be so easily categorised or contained. Many Mozarabs
were the descendents of those Visigoths who had remained on their land
after the Arab invasions and accepted Muslim authority; others, such as
Sisnando Davides, were northerners who had for various reasons been
brought up within Islamic society. In all cases, however, even as these
people had adopted the manners and language of their Muslim overlords,
they clung tenaciously to the religion of their forefathers.32 These religious
forms, sometimes rather misleadingly termed the ‘Mozarabic rite’, were
in reality a slightly archaic variant of the same Visigothic rites adhered to
by the Christian Spanish. In fact the characteristic that most differenti-
ated the religious practices of the Mozarabs from those of their northern
co-religionists was the depth of the Mozarabic attachment to traditional
religious forms, since these rituals had sustained their culture while under
Muslim domination and continued to constitute their only defence against
ethnic disintegration. Nor was their piety in any way unorthodox. In 1068
Pope Alexander had been asked to confirm the suitability of Mozarabic reli-
gious practice and, after examining their texts, had done so.33
Ironically, however, the very orthodoxy of the Mozarabic faith in many
ways highlighted their equivocal position, even within Christian society.
The name ‘Mozarab’ is in itself indicative of the ambivalent attitudes many
northern Spanish held towards members of this cultural subgroup. Although
16 The Reconquest Kings of Portugal

the word was probably derived from the Arabic musta’rab or musta’rib, (one
who claims to be Arab), this was not a term the Muslims used themselves.
Instead, it was employed by Spanish Christians to define a branch of their
co-religionists in cultural terms.34 It was a label denoting difference rather
than commonality, for in the socially fluid Iberian kingdoms a shared
Christian faith was not enough in itself to ensure sympathy between cul-
turally diverse peoples. The Spanish seem to have had little expectation that
Mozarabs living in Muslim lands might constitute a potential fifth column.
Instead the opposite seems to be the case; and in 1064 the Mozarabs of
recently captured Coimbra were accused of secretly preferring Islamic rule to
that of King Fernando. Even into the mid-twelfth century the Spanish made
scant effort during military operations to discriminate between Muslims
and Mozarabs among their enemies. Individuals from either faith who
were unfortunate enough to be seized by northern raiding parties appar-
ently received much the same rough treatment.35 For more than any other
group in Iberian society, the Mozarabs demonstrate both the pervasiveness
and the practical limits of pragmatic coexistence. In Christian society they
were categorised not by their religious beliefs but by their cultural accou-
trements; the Muslims saw past their appearance to focus on their faith.
Thus, defined as they were by their difference, the Mozarabs could live in
both worlds, or in neither; their political orientation was essentially a mat-
ter of circumstance or indeed personal choice. Nevertheless, they were not
excluded from either society and could be accepted as loyal subjects on both
sides of the frontier.
Interestingly, but perhaps not surprisingly, it was among the Mozarabs
that the most definite statements of what might be called an ideology of
reconquest were to be found. Despite their unique position between the
Christian and Muslim worlds, the Mozarabic peoples had lost most in the
Arab invasions. As a cultural group they maintained an awareness of the
past and their literature betrays a strong sense of historical grievance.36 Yet
perhaps the most striking statement of the Mozarabic attitude towards the
righting of ancient wrongs was in fact penned by a Muslim, ‘Abd Allāh of
Granada, and attributed to none other than Sisnando Davides. In a descrip-
tion of an embassy sent by Alfonso of León-Castile, ‘Abd Allāh recalled
Sisnando adding to his king’s message a warning of his own.

Al-Andalus originally belonged to the Christians. Then they were defeated

by the Arabs and driven to the most inhospitable region, Galicia. Now
that they are strong and capable, the Christians desire to recover what
they have lost ... .37

Nevertheless Sisnando, like all Mozarabs, was deeply inured to Arabic cul-
ture; indeed his attempt to justify the expansionism of his co-religionists
in historical terms is indicative of the close connections that still bound
 Portuguese Society in the Eleventh Century 17

him to the Muslim world in which he had grown up, for his implication
is that the Spanish were impelled not by sectarian animosity, but by the
demands of natural justice. The aim of his reconquest was not necessar-
ily to expel the Muslims from Spain, rather it was to impose Christian
rule over them. Thus, Sisnando’s position could be seen to be simply an
inversion of the cultural convivencia he had experienced during his time in
Muslim service.
Culturally Arabic and yet faithful to their traditional forms of Christianity,
the Mozarabs constituted a unique social subgroup. By the eleventh century
a great number of Mozarabs had migrated to the north or been enveloped
as the frontier moved southwards. There were numerous Mozarabic com-
munities across Christian Spain, particularly in urban areas; but for a vari-
ety of reasons, there was an unusual concentration of these communities
in Portugal. The westernmost regions of the peninsula had great cultural
resonance for the traditionally minded Mozarabs. Braga, a religious centre
which could trace its history back to ancient times, was associated with
such ecclesiastical luminaries as Paulus Orosius in the fourth century and St
Martin of Braga 200 years later. Until 1085 Braga was also the only ancient
metropolitan city under Christian control. In Portugal too, Mozarabs could
find political and ecclesiastical leaders who shared their cultural leanings.
Both Count Sisnando Davides and Bishop Paternus of Coimbra (1092–1098)
were Mozarabs, while Bishop Pedro of Braga had strong sympathy for the
ancient forms of worship the Arabised Christian community favoured.38
By the middle of the eleventh century, the Coimbra region had become
something of a Mozarabic stronghold and this was reflected as a strong local
sense of the past, a respect for tradition, but most of all a deep conservatism
in matters of religious practice. At the same time, the Mozarabic community
also had much to contribute to Christian society as a whole, including a
close familiarity with the Muslim world and an ability to operate effectively
across cultural barriers. During the early reign of Alfonso of León-Castile,
such qualities were highly valued and could be the key to considerable indi-
vidual advancement.
The ambitions of the Leonese monarch extended far beyond the sover-
eignty of his own multicultural kingdom. In an exchange of letters with
al-Mu’tamid of Seville, Alfonso is purported to have styled himself ‘the
emperor of the two religions’. This title was intended to infer influence,
even authority over the fractious Muslim states to the south. While the
veracity of these letters has been difficult to establish with certainty, the
attitudes of inclusiveness implicit in them also underpinned the Leonese
monarch’s wider relationships with Muslim al-Andalus.39 For Alfonso, in
common with other Spanish Christian leaders of his time, had come to
recognise that coexistence with the Muslim taifa states could yield far
richer results than anything that might be gained through a policy of
unremitting belligerence. In the chaotic world that emerged following the
18 The Reconquest Kings of Portugal

break-up of the caliphate and the emergence of the mutually suspicious

taifa states a complicated network of cross-cultural diplomatic relations
had developed, linking rival states in cooperation or rivalry. Issues of reli-
gious orientation were frequently ignored as rulers on both sides of the
highly permeable frontier struck bargains and made alliances on the basis
of practical gain.
Throughout the eleventh century and indeed well into the twelfth-
century diplomacy – albeit diplomacy backed by force – was the premier
tool of Iberian statecraft. Treaties between Christian and Muslim rulers
were common, with perhaps the most famous of these agreements being the
mutual defence pact negotiated by al-Muqtadir of Zaragoza and Fernando of
León-Castile in 1062. King Ramiro I of Aragon (1035–1063) paid dearly for
underestimating the strength of Fernando’s resolve when, less than a year
after this agreement was concluded, he launched a disastrous attack on the
Zaragozan stronghold of Graus. The Leonese king fulfilled his obligations
under the terms of the treaty and sent five hundred knights to support
his Muslim ally. The strengthened garrison routed the attacking Aragonese
army and King Ramiro himself was slain.40 Nor was this military alliance
unusual: the texts of other agreements have survived to provide striking
illustrations of convivencia in action. A pact signed in April 1069 by Sancho
IV of Navarra (1054–1076) and al-Muqtadir, for example, bound Sancho to
support his ally against all enemies, be they Christians or Muslims; and
this close relationship was renewed in May 1073. Other less vaunted indi-
viduals struck similar deals, with the best known of these being Rodrigo
Díaz, ‘the Cid’. During an eventful career (including a presence at Ramiro’s
fatal denouement at Graus in 1062) Rodrigo served several taifa rulers as a
mercenary commander. The victories he won on their behalf, over both
Christian and Muslim opponents, merely served to increase his stature
among his own co-religionists.41
The creation of military treaties between members of different faiths
presupposed a degree of mutual respect, and such agreements could
sometimes be sealed with the closest of bonds. Thus, Alfonso cemented
an alliance with al-Mu’tamid of Seville by entering into official concu-
binage with the Muslim ruler’s daughter-in-law, Princess Zaida. Far from
being considered in any way unsuitable, this relationship became grist for
romantic literature and a son from the union, Sancho, was later considered
the primary contender for the throne of León-Castile.42 A reputation for
fair dealing among the Muslims was an asset highly prized by Christian
rulers. Consequently, despite the Cid’s proven military prowess, he was
exiled because he contravened Alfonso’s agreements with al-Muqtadir by
launching unauthorised attacks against Zaragozan territory.43 Some years
later, ‘Abd Allā h of Granada recalled Alfonso’s eagerness to ensure a busi-
nesslike atmosphere prevailed. ‘God forbid,’ the Leonese monarch suppos-
edly exclaimed, ‘that people should say that a man as great as I among the
 Portuguese Society in the Eleventh Century 19

Christians came to you, equally great among your kind, and then betrayed
you.’44 In the volatile climate of Spanish politics rival leaders struck deals
where they could, and such arrangements were firmly based in political
expediency. This is nowhere more evident than in the evolution of the
gold tributes, known as parias, exacted by the Christian kings from the
taifa rulers.
The wealth of Iberia was concentrated in the south, in the sophisticated
urban culture of al-Andalus; the mountainous north, on the other hand,
produced skilled and restless warriors. This disparity presented clear oppor-
tunities for an enterprising Christian ruler. King Fernando first demanded
the payment of paria tribute from Seville, Zaragoza and Toledo in 1062. These
tributes were then paid fairly regularly for over twenty years, enhanced from
1074 by the imposition of similar obligations on Granada, and represented
a huge financial resource for the Christian kings. The Zaragozan paria alone
has been calculated at somewhere between 10,000 and 12,000 gold dinars
per annum. ‘Abd Allāh of Granada ruefully recalled that to secure the friend-
ship of Alfonso VI in 1074 he was forced to pay a lump sum of 30,000 dinars
in advance and promise the Leonese king a further 10,000 annually.45 It
was nothing less than protection money and as such bought security from
attack. With hindsight later authors would read into Alfonso’s actions a
long-term strategy of economic warfare – yet there is a thin line between
extortion and taxation. While these huge payments certainly allowed the
Spanish monarchs who controlled them to field large, professional armies,
they also dictated the uses to which such forces could be put. The Christian
kings guarded their revenues jealously, mounting campaigns not to cap-
ture territory, but to menace defaulters into payment. Moreover great care
was taken to ensure that these sources of income remained financially via-
ble, a policy that often included strengthening chosen taifas against both
Christian and Muslim incursion.46
What then was Alfonso’s idea of reconquest? Rather than being impelled
by the burning desire to reclaim ancient ancestral lands in the name of
Christendom, Alfonso’s intention was simply to control the wealth these
lands produced. His campaign to achieve this control was careful, slow and
wherever possible non-violent. In his remarkable autobiography ‘Abd Allā h
of Grenada recalled the Leonese king quite candidly expounding on his
overall strategy and the objectives he hoped to secure.

The best plan, indeed the only plan, is to threaten one with the other
and take their money all the time until their cities are impoverished
and weakened. When they are weakened they will surrender to me and
become mine of their own accord.47

This was a policy of pragmatic convivencia in which the aim was not to kill
or even to banish the enemy, but instead to subject them to royal authority.
20 The Reconquest Kings of Portugal

While this pragmatism had much in common with the reconquest as envis-
aged by Sisnando Davides, it was closer in spirit to the Cid’s recognition of
Muslim rights at Valencia. Alfonso seldom looked to the Visigothic past
for justification, rather he simply eschewed overt sectarian or cultural ani-
mosities to embrace practical reality. This was a policy of tolerant Realpolitik
and it reached a triumphant climax in 1085.
The city of Toledo, on the northern bank of the Tagus River, was an
ancient, populous and wealthy urban centre. Alfonso knew the city well,
having been sent there as an exile during the 1070s. The Muslim ruler of
the city, al-Ma’mūn, had been instrumental in the young king’s triumphant
return to power and had in all likelihood extracted an oath of future soli-
darity from Alfonso in return for this support. When al-Ma’mūn was sub-
sequently poisoned at Cordoba in 1075, his son, al-Qādir, inherited author-
ity in Toledo, but demonstrated little capacity for effective rule. During
al-Qādir’s troubled reign Alfonso was forced to intervene to maintain his
old ally’s dynasty in power, and to do so more effectively the Leonese mon-
arch gradually took control of the fortresses surrounding the city – always
with al-Qādir compliance. When al-Qādir was finally driven from Toledo by
a popular uprising, Alfonso moved against the city itself. Resistance was vir-
tually nonexistent: after a short siege the citizens capitulated and received
generous terms.48 Any who wished to leave were allowed to take their move-
able goods; those choosing to stay would retain possession of their property,
their customary laws and freedom of religion. Separate agreements were
reached with the Muslim, Jewish and Mozarabic communities under which
the Great Mosque was to remain under Muslim control, the Jews kept their
synagogue and the Mozarabs were guaranteed continued authority over
churches they had previously held in the city.
The capture of Toledo was the most significant territorial gain made by
Alfonso during a long, eventful reign and was a direct result of royal poli-
cies of pragmatic engagement with the Muslim world. In a move calcu-
lated to reassure the inhabitants of the multicultural city Alfonso chose
Sisnando Davides, the Mozarabic governor of Coimbra, to rule in Toledo.49
This appointment elevated the count of Coimbra into the highest level of
royal politics – a remarkable rise for the former child-prisoner, and a posi-
tion he owed primarily to his ability to operate effectively across cultural
boundaries. Certainly he brought these qualities to his new office in Toledo.
Both Christian and Muslim authors described Sisnando as a highly efficient
governor whose moderation and even-handed approach to all members of
the city’s diverse population brought calm in the aftermath of the Spanish
takeover, and indeed won many converts to Christianity from the Muslim
and Jewish communities. Yet even as Sisnando worked to establish an effec-
tive government based on the accommodation of cultural difference, the
principles of pluralism he sought to champion were decisively challenged
from an unexpected quarter. For almost as soon as a relative tranquillity
 Portuguese Society in the Eleventh Century 21

had fallen over the city, Christian authorities seized the Great Mosque and,
in direct defiance of the surrender terms, consecrated it as a cathedral.
The breach of faith appears to have been the result of a conspiracy between
Bernard of Sedirac, the newly appointed bishop of Toledo (1086–1124/1125),
and Alfonso’s second wife, Queen Constance of Burgundy. Acting in concert,
the bishop and queen overrode Sisnando’s objections and, without waiting
to consult the absent King Alfonso, ordered the seizure and consecration of
the mosque. When news of this act of bad faith broke in the royal court the
enraged king swept back to Toledo intent, it was later believed, on burning
both bishop and queen alive in punishment for their actions. Alfonso’s pre-
cipitous response to the besmirching of his good name in the Islamic world
was only prevented by the intercession of an embassy from the Muslim
community of Toledo. On bended knees the wronged Muslims convinced
the king to take no action, for they prudently foresaw that any backlash of
popular anger would inevitably fall on them.50 For a time an uneasy peace
was restored within the city, but the Jewish, Muslim and Mozarabic com-
munities would have had strong cause to wonder whether the cultural toler-
ance that they had been promised was already beginning to evaporate.
During the early decades of his reign Alfonso of León-Castile had pur-
sued a pragmatic strategy in his dealings with his own subjects and also in
his relations with rival Iberian rulers. One striking result of this approach
was the creation of a culture of pluralism within his realm, much to the
benefit of those who were capable of operating effectively across social
and political frontiers. It was a multicultural world and a time when indi-
viduals such as Sisnando Davides could rise rapidly. Yet events in the wake
of the capture of Toledo highlighted another side to Alfonso’s policy of
social inclusion. The Spanish monarch was deeply attracted to the devel-
oping culture of Latin Christendom, and under his patronage the pace of
cultural exchange quickened. An ironic consequence of Alfonso’s social
eclecticism was the translocation into Spain of an alternative ethos that
was fundamentally intolerant of cultural diversity. Bishop Bernard and
Queen Constance can be seen as exemplars of the Latin Christian world
and their actions in Toledo reflected the attitudes of cultural exclusivity
developing beyond the Pyrenees. The consecration of the Great Mosque
was the first substantial Spanish victory for these attitudes of exclusivity
over the more moderate policies of Iberian Realpolitik. It was a victory,
moreover, which was not an isolated incident, but rather a critical point
in an ongoing process of Latin cultural permeation of Iberia. Few regions
of the peninsula were to be more deeply affected than the western coastal
zone. Sisnando Davides was only one of many Portuguese who were to
find this growing Latin Christian cultural influence both unwelcome and
deeply unsettling.
22 The Reconquest Kings of Portugal

Alfonso VI, the Latin Church and the estrangement

of the Portuguese clergy

Bernard of Sedirac, the newly appointed bishop of Toledo, personified one

strand of the Latin Christian cultural expansion: the transfer of orthodox
Roman ecclesiastical ideas and personnel across the Pyrenees into Iberia.
Perhaps the most striking indication of the advance of this cultural influence
is the form of surviving official documents. Early Spanish records were writ-
ten in the Visigothic script, a characteristically Iberian style of calligraphy.
During the eleventh century, in a clear illustration of the pace of cultural
change, this style was abandoned in favour of the Carolingian techniques
commonly used in Europe.51 Acceptance of the new form of calligraphy was
quite fitfull in Portugal, where a ‘transitional Visigothic’ came into use dur-
ing the second half of the eleventh century, with the more venerable styles
still very much in evidence well into the twelfth century. 52 A consideration
of the story told by these documents suggests some of the reasons why such
stylistic novelties were unwelcome in many Portuguese scriptoriums – and
why several of the most sensational scenes of resistance to Latin ecclesiasti-
cal innovation were played out in the west of the peninsula.
The eleventh century was a period of rapidly increasing communica-
tions between the Spanish kingdoms and the Latin Christian Church.
The Aragonese kings Ramiro I and his son Sancho I Ramirez (1063–1094)
forged early relations with the rising power of the reform papacy. These
links grew in significance until in 1068 Sancho Ramirez formally conferred
his kingdom on St Peter and agreed to pay an annual tribute as a token
of his loyalty.53 Rather than compete with Aragonese efforts to win papal
approval, the kings of León-Castile directed their attentions towards the
other great ecclesiastical institution of Europe: the Benedictine monastery
at Cluny. Sporadic gifts of booty won during Fernando’s successful frontier
campaigns were gradually formalised into an annual grant, an act of gener-
osity that was made possible by the imposition of paria tributes on the taifa
states. The formal tribute to Cluny fell into abeyance on Fernando’s death
in 1065, although Alfonso maintained links with the monastery through a
series of valuable donations including San Isidro de Dueñas, San Salvador de
Palaz del Rey, Santiago de Astudillo and San Juan de Hérmedes de Cerrato.54
Alfonso appears to have been prompted primarily by personal religious
feelings and a genuine respect for the monastery’s reputation for orthodox
piety. Nevertheless the Leonese monarch could not have been unaware of
the political possibilities inherent in his support for the Cluniac monks.
This dimension of the relationship took on a greater importance in 1073,
when the election of Pope Gregory VII opened a new and turbulent phase
of papal–Spanish relations.
The new pontiff initiated contact with a series of sweeping and completely
unrealistic claims for authority in the peninsula. Two of Pope Gregory’s
 Portuguese Society in the Eleventh Century 23

earliest letters, both dated 30 April 1073, dealt with proposed French mili-
tary operations in Spain, and made abundantly clear that Gregory’s under-
standing of the situation beyond the Pyrenees was extremely partial and
in all probability informed primarily by Aragonese interests. In these let-
ters Gregory assumed complete sovereignty over the peninsula. The pon-
tiff nominated a French nobleman of uncertain reputation, Count Ebles of
Roucy, as a papal operative who would lead a military expedition into Spain
and hold any land he managed to secure there as a vassal of the Holy See.
Pope Gregory warned any other knights contemplating similar operations
that if they wished for St Peter’s blessing they must similarly pledge their
obedience to the papal throne.55 The pope made no reference whatsoever to
the Spanish leaders and his clumsy intervention drew an immediate, hostile
reaction. In an impressive example of cross-cultural solidarity Sancho IV
Garcés of Navarra responded to the threat of unwanted northern interlop-
ers by concluding a defensive alliance with al-Muqtadir of Zaragoza in May
1073. Alfonso of León-Castile appears to have acted less directly, and when
Count Ebles’ expedition ultimately came to nothing, spoiling actions by
the monks of Cluny in protection of Leonese interests may well have been
the cause.56
Undeterred by the abject failure of this first attempt to establish author-
ity over the Iberian Peninsula through the use of papal agents, Gregory
reiterated his claims directly to the Spanish leaders. In a missive dated 28
June 1077 the pope warned the Iberian kings that St Peter’s long-neglected
ancient rights must be restored through the payment of tribute and the
acknowledgement of papal authority.57 Alfonso of León-Castile responded
by recommencing payment of tribute not to Pope Gregory, but to the monks
at Cluny, and he raised the amount to the astronomical figure of 2,000 gold
dinars per annum.58 In return for this generosity, the largest single benefac-
tion the monks ever received, Cluny became a stalwart supporter of Leonese
interests in Spain, France and, perhaps most importantly, in the papal court.
Alfonso further signalled his resistance to Pope Gregory’s claims for Iberian
hegemony by officially adopting the title of emperor from 1077 onwards.
The pope refused to acknowledge this new title in subsequent communica-
tions, but beset as he was by threats closer to home, he found himself unable
to challenge Alfonso’s self-declared imperial status. 59
Pope Gregory could display an obstinate resolve when defending those
rights he believed pertained to the Holy See; at the same time, however,
he was also capable of accepting patent political reality. In the face of
the formidable alliance of Alfonso’s secular power and Cluny’s spiritual
reputation the pope quietly shifted his ground. Rather than continuing
to press for secular acknowledgement of papal authority, Gregory initi-
ated a campaign to impose ecclesiastical conformity and obedience on the
Spanish Church. In the pursuit of these new goals, old opponents could
become effective allies. Alfonso and the monks of Cluny were willing to
24 The Reconquest Kings of Portugal

support such a campaign and so papal efforts met with far greater success.
A primary aim of Pope Gregory’s programme was the imposition of Roman
liturgical orthodoxy upon the Spanish Church. While previous popes had
been willing to countenance the ‘Mozarabic liturgy’ and indeed only a dec-
ade earlier Alexander II had publicly declared it to be doctrinally sound,
Gregory peremptorily overturned previous rulings and insisted that any
non-Roman liturgies must be completely expunged. The scene was set for
a decisive confrontation between Iberian custom and Latin innovation.
The pope launched his campaign against traditional Spanish religious
forms in March 1074 by praising the king of Aragon for his success in impos-
ing the Roman liturgy throughout his realm. Further letters petitioned the
kings of Navarra and León-Castile to do likewise.60 Alfonso appeared per-
sonally willing to comply and to this end arranged a judicial duel to decide
the issue. In a detail that warns against ethnic generalising, the Castilian
knight defending the local liturgy triumphed over the Mozarabic champion
of Roman novelty. Undeterred, Alfonso ordered an ordeal by fire, and when
the Mozarabic books survived immolation, the monarch kicked them back
into the flames while shouting in true autocratic style: ‘The horns of the law
must bend to the will of kings!’61 The intensity of the campaign increased in
1080 when the papal legate, Cardinal Richard of St Victor in Marseilles, con-
vened an ecclesiastical council at Burgos. King Alfonso was in attendance
and was prevailed upon to formally agree to enforce the rite throughout
his territories.62 Yet the pronouncements of ecclesiastical councils did not
guarantee the obedience of wider society. The imposition of the Roman rite
provoked considerable grassroots resistance, and in a letter to Abbot Hugh
of Cluny, Alfonso bemoaned the desolation the change had cast over his
people.63 Consequently, even after the king had formally prescribed the use
of the Roman rite throughout his realm, other forms of liturgy were main-
tained in some regions with tacit or even overt official approval.64
Portugal, with its large Mozarabic population and ancient tradition
of ecclesiastical pre-eminence, became a front line in the battle between
proponents of the Spanish and the Roman liturgies. The leading figure in
the local church was Bishop Pedro of Braga – a city with a glowing history
of intellectual and ecclesiastical achievement – and he was categorically
opposed to the new liturgical forms. During his incumbency documents
produced in Braga betray limited Carolingian influence and throughout
the diocese traditional forms of worship and ecclesiastical organisation
were retained. Consequently his successor, Bishop Gerald (1096–1108), was
obliged to write to Rome enquiring as to whether the ordinations Pedro had
conducted, ‘following the Toledan manner’, should be allowed to stand. In
subsequent years, after the Roman forms of worship had been more fully
accepted, a new generation of clergymen in Braga wrote critically of their
predecessor’s conservatism.65 Nor was Bishop Pedro the only Portuguese
clergyman uncomfortable with change. The see of Coimbra may have lacked
 Portuguese Society in the Eleventh Century 25

the glittering historical pedigree of Braga, but the city had a large Mozarabic
population, including the royal governor, Sisnando Davides, and the local
ecclesiastical authority, Bishop Paternus; and here too the imposition of the
Roman rite seems to have provoked significant unrest. The final reference to
Bishop Paternus – his leaving to undertake an indefinite pilgrimage to the
Holy Land – suggests a disappointed or discredited man.66 Bishop Paternus’
expected replacement, Martim, had been prior of the cathedral chapter and
was a protégé of Sisnando. However, Martim only ever appeared in docu-
ments as ‘bishop-elect,’ and the delay in confirming his appointment as
bishop of Coimbra may well have been the result of the struggle between
proponents of the Roman and Mozarabic liturgical rites. Certainly it was not
until after the death of Sisnando in 1091 that Alfonso felt able to impress his
own choice on the church of Coimbra: Cresconio, a French Benedictine and
the former abbot of St Bartholomew of Túy.67
Yet the Latin Christian reform programme did not end with the imposi-
tion of an unpopular foreign liturgy; a second phase of ecclesiastical reform
was to produce even greater local discord. As Robert Bartlett has observed:

The theory of Latin Christendom was that of a cellular body and the cells
were the dioceses. Every part of Christendom was meant to be a named
and known see, and no part was meant to be in more than one ... .68

In addition to forcing the Roman liturgy upon the peninsular churches,

Pope Gregory insisted that the ecclesiastical structure of the Spanish Church
be reorganised to conform to Roman ideals. Every church would be assigned
its rank in the formal, magisterial hierarchy that encompassed the whole of
Latin Christendom. Each institution, indeed each individual, would have
a place in the conceptual edifice that was the Holy Church – and at the
apex of this structure of obedience was the throne of St Peter. For his part,
Alfonso of León-Castile was not unwilling to support the rearrangement
of the Spanish Church. Such a rationalisation of ecclesiastical administra-
tion had much to recommend it to a monarch eager to encourage politi-
cal centralisation in his own sprawling realm. However, local clergymen in
Portugal had cause to feel less sanguine at the prospect of Roman adminis-
trative innovation.
In any reordering of authority there must be winners and losers. The
clergy of Braga were resolved to ensure that they were not among the latter.
Bishop Pedro of Braga had long entertained high ambitions for the prestige
of his church. When Alfonso came to power in 1072 the incoming mon-
arch had confirmed the bishop of Braga as the leading regional church-
man. This royal recognition encouraged Bishop Pedro to seek even greater
preferment. Of the five ancient Spanish metropolitans (which were Braga,
Tarragona, Toledo, Mérida and Seville) only Braga was under Christian con-
trol when Alfonso returned to the throne. Bishop Pedro clearly believed
26 The Reconquest Kings of Portugal

that this allowed him to speak as the highest ecclesiastical authority in the
peninsula. Early documents issued at Braga contain phrases such as cathedre
Bracarensis metropolitane and baselica metropolitana, and while such preten-
sions received no outside recognition, they signalled the direction of Bishop
Pedro’s future ambition.69 Unfortunately for the aspirations of the clergy in
Braga, even though Alfonso did indeed hope to create an archbishop within
his realm, the pontiff urged him to delay – seemingly because of doubts in
Rome about the suitability of Bishop Pedro himself for such a promotion.70
As a result, the king consistently refused to support Bishop Pedro’s attempts
to advance the prestige of his church. The growing sense of frustration
this produced in Braga was ultimately to find expression in the precipitous
actions of several of the most eminent Portuguese churchmen.
During the 1080s a series of political and social upheavals shook the
foundations of the Church both north and south of the Pyrenees, and
the aftershocks of this turmoil would impact even in distant Portugal. In
March 1080 a rising tension between papal and imperial authority reached
a crisis when Pope Gregory intervened in German politics by formally
deposing and excommunicating Emperor Henry IV for a second time. This
proved to be a major miscalculation, not only because Gregory’s chosen
imperial candidate, Duke Rudolf of Swabia, died soon afterwards, but also
because the pope had dangerously overplayed his hand. Three years earlier
Pope Gregory had used the same methods to force contrition on Henry at
Canossa; now though, a more experienced emperor enjoyed the backing of
majority opinion. The defiant Emperor Henry summoned an ecclesiastical
council in Brixen the following year and secured the deposition of Pope
Gregory. Archbishop Guibert of Ravenna was elevated as Pope Clement III
(1080–1100), and Emperor Henry moved to install the anti-pope on the
throne of St Peter. Pope Gregory found to his chagrin that the number of
his supporters dwindled almost as quickly as did his financial resources.
By 1084 the pope’s position had become untenable and he was forced to
flee Rome. During this crisis, Bishop João II of Porto, who had been one
of Gregory’s closest advisors, suddenly defected to Clement’s camp, taking
with him a dozen other cardinals. Bishop João’s actions, whether motivated
by opportunism or conviction, thrust the Portuguese Church to the centre
of both imperial and papal attention. Gregory responded by dispatching
a papal legate, Abbot Jarento of Saint-Bénigne, with letters of instruction
for Count Sisnando Davides – and it is significant that rather than entrust-
ing the task to Bishop Pedro of Braga the pope chose to deal directly with
the local representative of secular royal power. Bishop Pedro’s conspicuous
failure to enforce orthodoxy and order upon those clergymen closest to
him had thus done nothing to further his hopes for a wider recognition of
Braga’s ancient prestige.71
That a crisis in distant Germany could have this impact in Portugal is
testimony to the growing importance of an international dimension in
 Portuguese Society in the Eleventh Century 27

ecclesiastical politics; but events within the peninsula were soon to deliver
an even sharper blow to Bishop Pedro’s aspirations. On 25 May 1085 Alfonso
received the formal surrender of Toledo, and amid the general Christian
rejoicing, there were those in Braga who may have found less cause to cel-
ebrate. Braga’s valuable distinction of being the sole ancient metropolitan
in Christian hands ended with the elevation of the former monk of Cluny,
Bernard of Sedirac, as the first bishop of the recaptured city. Bishop Bernard
soon made it clear that, as far as he was concerned, the ancient Visigothic
capital of Toledo should also be considered the pre-eminent church for all of
Christian Spain. By 1088 the bishop’s position in Toledo was secure enough
for him to seek a hearing in the papal court. Before presenting his petition
he took the precaution of visiting his old monastery to obtain advice and
a blessing from Abbot Hugh. On his appearance before the curia Bishop
Bernard received a sympathetic hearing from Pope Urban II (1088–1099),
who was himself also a former monk of Cluny. The metropolitan status of
Toledo was recognised, and Bernard was furthermore granted the authority
of Primate for the entire peninsula. Pope Urban promulgated his decisions
in a series of bulls issued to Archbishop Bernard, Alfonso of León-Castile,
the prelates of Spain, and the abbot of Cluny.72
Bernard’s complete success during his visit to Rome was bitter news to
Bishop Pedro, who would have had considerable justification for believing
himself the victim of a Cluniac conspiracy. Nevertheless the redoubtable
bishop of Braga was unwilling to relinquish without a struggle the rights and
dignities he firmly believe to be his own. An opportunity appeared to arise
in 1090 when the papal legate, Cardinal Rainer (the future Pope Paschal II),
summoned together a council at León to discuss outstanding ecclesiastical
business. Bishop Pedro seized his chance to demand the restitution of Braga’s
ancient stature and independence from the church of Toledo. Once again
his efforts were to no avail. Cardinal Rainer, who was himself a former monk
of Cluny, refused point-blank to reconsider these earlier papal decisions.73
A sense of unjustified persecution coupled with wounded pride proved too
much for Bishop Pedro and he came to the same conclusion Bishop João of
Porto had reached almost two decades earlier. In 1091 Bishop Pedro took
his case to the imperial pope, Clement III, in the hope of receiving a more
favourable judgement. Clement immediately acceded to his requests and
freed Bishop Pedro from Archbishop Bernard’s control. It was to prove a
hollow victory. Pedro was declared deposed, and the Spanish clergy imme-
diately united in opposition to the turbulent bishop, allowing Alfonso to
force him into monastic retirement. Bernard of Toledo was then able to
appoint a new bishop, Gerald of Moissac, who was yet another former monk
of Cluny. The triumphant appearance of Archbishop Bernard in Braga on
28 August 1092 to oversee the consecration of the new cathedral was a sig-
nal that, for the time being at least, the struggle for the restitution of the
city’s ancient ecclesiastical rights was over.74
28 The Reconquest Kings of Portugal

Bernard of Toledo’s victory in 1092 over the proponents of local cus-

tom was as decisive for the Latin reformers as had been the seizure of the
Great Mosque seven years earlier. The regional clergy learned to their cost
that they could not effectively resist the combined authority of a reformist
papacy, a formidable monarch, and an ever-increasing number of Cluniac
monks appointed to high ecclesiastical office across the peninsula. The
deposition of Bishop Pedro and his replacement by Bishop Gerald marked
the effective end of local resistance to Roman demands for liturgical con-
formity. Nevertheless, the bitter humiliation of their church’s submission
to the authority of Bernard of Toledo was something the local clergymen
could never bring themselves to accept. Fortunately for their future hopes,
times were changing once again. The same forces of Latin Christian cul-
tural expansionism that had carried Bernard of Toledo and Gerald of Braga
to high office in the Spanish Church had also impelled others from across
the Pyrenees to pursue their ambitions in the Iberian peninsula. With the
arrival of these energetic new immigrants would come new opportunities
for local ecclesiastical resistance.

A history of violence: the Latin Christian military

aristocracy in León-Castile

When Bernard of Toledo seized the Great Mosque in 1085 for use as a
Christian cathedral he had been encouraged and supported by Alfonso’s
wife, the formidable Queen Constance of Burgundy. The queen represented
a second strand to the Latin Christian cultural expansion into the Iberian
Peninsula, for alongside the Latin ecclesiastics who travelled southwards in
order to direct the reorganisation of the Spanish Church came an equally
significant immigration of adventurous Latin nobles. Many of these indi-
viduals appear to have been attracted by the prospect of booty that might
be easily transported back across the mountains; others though hoped
for more permanent advantage in Spain. The role of early Latin military
expeditions into Iberia has been closely scrutinised by historians seeking
to trace the rise of the European sectarian militancy that coalesced as the
First Crusade in 1095. In the west of the peninsula, however, the activities
of these adventurous immigrants would have very different ramifications.
For as the eleventh century drew to a close the dynastic ambitions of some
of the greatest noble houses of Latin Christendom, ambitions excited and
guided by Queen Constance herself, brought one immigrant Burgundian to
a decisive position of power in Portugal.
Of the many early Frankish visitors to Spain the most famous was
Charlemagne, who in 778 led a large army through the Pyrenees, perhaps
with the aim of taking Cordoba and incorporating Spain into the western
empire. Carolingian hopes quickly foundered amid the turbulent realities
of peninsular politics and the most enduring legacy of the expedition was
 Portuguese Society in the Eleventh Century 29

the literary epic Chanson de Roland, a celebration of heroic failure that did
much to keep the Spanish frontier at the forefront of aristocratic imagina-
tion in Europe. Through the long centuries that followed, individuals or
small bands of warriors undertook the long journey into Spain, inspired by
the romance of foreign lands, by the increasing popularity of Santiago de
Compostela as a focus for international pilgrimage and by pragmatic hopes
of securing booty. Their activities left little record beyond infrequent refer-
ences in chronicles to an exotic visitor alleviating the routine of monas-
tic life.75 During the eleventh century these expeditions grew in frequency
and size. One such operation, an attack on Muslim-held Barbastro in 1064,
was unusually well documented and has attracted considerable subsequent
attention.
The army that attacked Barbastro was a conglomerate of French and
Spanish contingents and may have marched under some form of papal
aegis; as a result, the expedition has on occasion been described as a ‘proto-
crusade’.76 On closer consideration, however, the evidence for papal involve-
ment in the operation has proven to be rather ephemeral.77 The trigger for
the expedition, far from being an act of Islamic aggression, was the death of
King Ramiro of Aragon in the ill-fated attack on Graus in 1063 – an attack
that failed due to the intervention of five hundred Leonese troops sent
by King Fernando to reinforce al-Muqtadir of Zaragoza. The targeting of
Barbastro, moreover, was in all likelihood orchestrated by Fernando and
his allies at Cluny simply to divert the crusaders away from the more politi-
cally sensitive city of Graus.78 The apparent ease with which the objective
of the campaign was switched away from the more strategically important
city seems to betray an indifference among the foreign troops to any over-
all Spanish strategy. In addition, their inherently mercenary attitude was
very clearly, and indeed tragically, displayed immediately after the city fell.
Following a bloodthirsty massacre of the unfortunate citizens of Barbastro
the majority of the northern troops, now laden down with their booty,
turned immediately for home. Their departure left the city fatally under-
manned and several months later it fell to a vengeful Muslim army with still
further loss of life.79
The brief Christian occupation of Barbastro brought no tangible bene-
fit to the Spanish kingdoms; indeed the sanguinary episode filled many
Iberians with dismayed disgust. The northern soldiers had displayed a mur-
derous hostility towards non-Christians that shocked a local people more
acquainted with the type of measured aggression exhibited at the negotiated
surrender of Coimbra in the same year to Leonese and Portuguese forces.
Muslim authors expressed understandable outrage; significantly though,
the Christian Spanish were also appalled by the brutality of their comrades-
in-arms. This unease was reflected in a treaty concluded in 1069 between
Sancho of Navarra and al-Muqtadir of Zaragoza agreeing not to entertain
further alliances with French or other foreign forces.80 The cross-cultural
30 The Reconquest Kings of Portugal

animosity of the visiting troops also extended beyond Muslims to members

of the Jewish minority they encountered. Thus, Alexander II felt obliged to
write to the bishops of Spain soon after the expedition praising their efforts
in protecting the local Jewish population from the violence of those jour-
neying ‘to fight against the Saracens.’81 These early Latin Christian visitors
in fact displayed all the worst aspects of their own aggressively xenopho-
bic culture; and due in large part to this narrowness of vision, they were
unable to make any enduring strategic contribution in Spain. At the same
time, however, the expedition to Barbastro may well have had a more last-
ing impact in a strictly non-military sphere.
Among the participants in the Barbastro campaign was Duke William III
of Aquitaine who, during his stay in Iberia, seems to have struck up a friend-
ship with King Fernando. Cordial relations between them were maintained
in the years that followed, perhaps with the assistance of the ubiquitous
monks of Cluny, as both men were generous patrons of the order. Eventually
the developing relations between Aquitaine and León-Castile were formal-
ised with that most important of medieval links, a dynastic marriage. The
betrothal of Duke William’s daughter Inés to the king’s second son Alfonso
took place in around 1069. The vicissitudes of Alfonso’s early career delayed
the final ceremony, but after his success in combining the thrones of León
and Castile the value of such foreign links to a reigning monarch became
more clear. Both the sweeping claims of Pope Gregory and the ill-fated mili-
tary expedition of Count Ebles de Roucy had ultimately been countered
by Alfonso’s adroit diplomatic tactics. Yet the size of Count Ebles failed
expedition – which Abbot Suger likened to armies usually fielded by kings –
made clear to intelligent observers that there remained abundant enthu-
siasm for adventures in Spain among the European military aristocracy.82
Alfonso, therefore, took the prudent step of cementing relations with his
own northern allies by concluding his marriage with Inés of Aquitaine in
or soon after 1073. Representatives from the monastery of Cluny may well
have assisted in these arrangements when they met with Alfonso at Burgos
to formally accept his gift of the monastery of San Isidoro.83
However, the political expediency of the marriage did not guarantee its
success. After several years had passed without any sign of an heir, Alfonso
was driven to repudiate the unfortunate Inés some time after 1077. Despite
this first unsuccessful match, the Leonese monarch’s choice for a second
wife drew him even more firmly into a web of alliances involving both
Cluny and the French noble houses. In 1078 Duke Hugh I of Burgundy vis-
ited Spain to test his martial prowess against the Muslims of al-Andalus, and
between forays along the frontier he became aware of Alfonso’s domestic
situation.84 The duke of Burgundy was closely associated with the monks
of Cluny; they agreed to act as intermediaries on his behalf, and before
the end of the year, his recently widowed sister Constance was betrothed
to Alfonso of León-Castile. Pope Gregory raised an objection on canonical
 Portuguese Society in the Eleventh Century 31

grounds due to the close relationship between Alfonso’s first and second
wives, but eventually allowed himself to be persuaded to accept the match
in return for royal promises concerning the abolition of Visigothic liturgy in
the kingdom.85 By 1080 Constance of Burgundy had become queen and so
five years later was in a position to intervene imperiously in affairs of state
by encouraging Bishop Bernard of Toledo to consecrate the Great Mosque
as his cathedral – thus demonstrating herself to be a formidable proponent
of Latin cultural exclusivity in Spain. Yet in the immediate aftermath of
her actions in Toledo, the next wave of foreign influence into the peninsula
would come not from beyond the Pyrenees, but from across the Straits of
Gibraltar.
The Christian capture of Toledo was a watershed moment in the reign
of Alfonso VI and indeed in Iberian history more widely. The loss of this
strategic territory brought the future viability of al-Andalus into ques-
tion and prompted several of the taifa leaders to seek aid from their co-
religionists in North Africa. This was a perilous course, as the taifa rulers
were fully aware. The African Almoravids professed a more fundamentalist
expression of the Islamic faith than did the peoples of al-Andalus, and the
price for their assistance was likely to be high. Yet as al-Mu’tamid of Seville
bleakly observed: ‘Better to pasture camels than be a swineherd’. 86 A plea for
assistance was sent. The Almoravid ruler, Yūsuf b. Tāshfı̄n, heeded the call
and his subsequent arrival in al-Andalus at the head of an army of North
African troops quickly swung the balance of power against the Christians.
Alfonso’s forces were scattered by the combined Almoravid-Andalusi army
at Zallaqa in 1086, and the king himself barely escaped the rout with his
life.87 News of the defeat inflicted on the previously all-conquering Leonese
army reverberated across Spain and was heard even beyond the Pyrenees.88
Both the monks of Cluny and the short-lived Pope Victor III (1086–1087)
roused themselves to impassioned appeals for aid from the knighthood of
Christendom, and they found many who were prepared to listen. In the
spring of 1087 Duke Eudes I of Burgundy and William the Carpenter of
Mélun mustered a substantial army for a campaign in Spain.89 But by the
time the army was actually in the field, the situation on the Spanish frontier
had already begun to change.
Although the defeat at Zallaqa seemed initially to foreshadow disaster for
the Spanish kingdoms, the immediate threat soon receded. The Almoravids
were unable to capitalise on their victory as doubts concerning the commit-
ment of their local allies, coupled with disturbing reports of instability in
North Africa, obliged Yūsuf b. Tāshfı̄n to return to Morocco. The removal of
this unifying force allowed the old rivalries and animosities to arise among
the taifa leaders and all too soon their fragile alliance had broken down.
Alfonso moved eagerly to exploit this fragmentation and restore the pat-
terns of alliance that had served him so well in the past. Within two years
the taifa leaders of Zaragoza, Valencia and Granada had agreed to renew
32 The Reconquest Kings of Portugal

the payment of the paria tribute; and in this climate of business-as-usual,

the northern allies so desperately summoned in the shadow of Zallaqa had
become a potential embarrassment. In order not to upset Alfonso’s diplo-
matic offensive the newcomers were persuaded to attack the strategically
unimportant Zaragozan stronghold of Tudela and after some desultory
siege-work the army dispersed northwards in April 1087, having achieved
nothing worthwhile from their Spanish sojourn.90 As the soldiers turned
dispiritedly for home, some of their aristocratic leaders rode further south
in order to pursue other, non-military interests in the region.
Underlying royal policy throughout Alfonso’s long reign was the ques-
tion of the succession. His first marriage, to Queen Inés, had been child-
less. Queen Constance bore the king a single daughter, Infanta Urraca,
while Alfonso’s extramarital affair with a Castilian noblewoman, Jimena
Muñoz, had produced two further daughters, the Infantas Elvira and Teresa.
The lack of a male heir to the throne, legitimate or otherwise, was a clear
opportunity that ambitious nobles could not ignore. Following the failure
of the siege at Tudela, Duke Eudes of Burgundy travelled to León where he
confirmed a donation by Queen Constance (who was his aunt), in favour
of the Bugundian abbey of Tournus. While there, and no doubt with his
aunt’s support, Duke Eudes entered into marriage negotiations on behalf
of his brother-in-law, Count Raymond of Amous, for the hand of Infanta
Urraca. These arrangements were carried through successfully and, in what
was nothing short of a coup for the foreign interests in the Spanish court,
the count of Amous was betrothed to the king’s sole legitimate daughter. By
virtue of this marriage, the immigrant Burgundian count was established as
the most likely successor to the Spanish throne; in the interim, Raymond
accepted as dowry the lands of Galicia and Portugal combined into a new
county.91 Consequently, as a result of foreign influences in the dynastic
politics of a distant royal court, the Portuguese suddenly found themselves
given into the authority of an unfamiliar Burgundian nobleman. Yet this
dramatic development was to be only the first of the political surprises vis-
ited on the region by the untrammelled ambitions of immigrant nobles.

The rule of the first Burgundian: Count Raymond of

Galicia-Portugal

Marriage to Infanta Urraca brought Count Raymond to power in a region

traditionally mistrustful of central authority and which had already been
deeply unsettled by the imposition of unwanted Latin ecclesiastical arrange-
ments on the local church. Count Raymond could hope for little popular
enthusiasm from his new subjects. However, despite this initially inauspi-
cious outlook, during the first years of his rule in Galicia-Portugal Raymond
enjoyed considerable good fortune. He was able to consolidate and even
extend his authority over his conglomerate territory. But this honeymoon
 Portuguese Society in the Eleventh Century 33

period was not to last. Less than five years after coming to power in Galicia-
Portugal, Count Raymond faced a dramatic challenge to his position from
within the Burgundian court circle itself – in the person of his cousin,
Count Henry of Burgundy. The machinations and power struggles that fol-
lowed would have decisive implication for the future of Portugal.
The elevation of the immigrant Count Raymond of Amous to a position
as the most likely successor to the thrones of León and Castile caused a
sensation in the kingdom and soon provoked opposition. The first stirrings
of resistance emerged in the region Raymond had claimed as his dowry.
Bishop Diego Peláez of Compostela began preaching rebellion among the
local peoples and several Galician magnates were prepared to listen. The
extent of the rebellion is difficult to gauge, but there are indications of other
civil disturbances in Castile, possibly orchestrated by Count Garcia Alvarez;
and it may be no coincidence that the Mozarabic bishop of Coimbra was
ushered on his way to the Holy Land shortly after royal control was restored.
The probable aim of these insurrections was to free Alfonso’s brother Garcia,
the former king of the lands Raymond now claimed, for only thus could the
rebels hope to legitimise their defiance. Although these rebellious nobles
made unlikely claims that King William of England had offered them his
encouragement on the basis of old promises supposedly made to Garcia, in
the absence of more concrete local support, the insurrection soon faltered
and royal authority was restored. Less than two years later King Garcia of
Portugal-Galicia died in his royal prison cell at Luna, removing the pos-
sibility of a legitimate pretender to the throne and making future rebellion
against Alfonso’s disposition of the kingdom far less likely.92
Count Raymond’s run of good fortune continued in the years that fol-
lowed. In 1091 Count Sisnando Davides, the staunch defender of local tradi-
tion, died at Coimbra and was laid to rest in the city’s cathedral (where his
tomb can still be viewed). The Mozarabic count was briefly succeeded by
his son-in-law, Martim Moniz; clearly though Alfonso considered Martim
to be out of step with the new regime, and within two years the young man
had decided that his future lay elsewhere. Martim left Coimbra to seek his
fortune on the other side of the peninsula, eventually joining the retinue of
the Cid in Valencia. The turnover of ecclesiastical offices during these years
was even more striking. Following the abortive rebellion of Bishop Diego
of Compostela, Alfonso forcibly replaced him with Pedro, the abbot of
Cardeña. This exercise of secular authority in ecclesiastical preferment pro-
voked a long crisis with the papacy, which only ended with the elevation of
a compromise candidate, Bishop Dalmace, who as a former monk of Cluny
could be expected to find favour with Pope Urban. Meanwhile, a similar
period of turbulence had unsettled the Portuguese Church. In 1091 Bishop
Pedro of Braga made his ill-advised appeal to the imperial pope Clement III
and was forced into monastic seclusion; his eventual replacement, Bishop
Gerald, was a monk of Cluny. In Coimbra, Bishop Paternus had departed for
34 The Reconquest Kings of Portugal

the Holy Land in 1188. After an uncertain period in which his Mozarabic
successor Martim was unable to secure his claims, Alfonso stepped in and
imposed his own choice, another former Cluniac monk, Bishop Cresconio.
Thus, in only few short years, the entrenched interests of decades had been
swept away leaving Raymond in firm control of the southern marches of his
new county.
More distant events also seemed to conspire in Count Raymond’s favour.
Relations between the Almoravids and the rulers al-Andalus, which were
never close, soured soon after their joint victory at Zallaqa. Following an
abortive attack on Aledo in 1088, in which the fractiousness of the local
Muslims had frustrated the efforts of their North African allies, Yūsuf b.
Tāshfı̄n decided to assume direct control over al-Andalus. The end came
quickly for the party kings of the taifa states. ‘Abd Allāh was forced from
Granada in September 1090; al-Mu’tamid surrendered Seville the following
year and withdrew to Morocco. When a nervous Al-Mutawwakil of Badajoz
sought the reassurance of a defensive alliance with the ruler of León-Castile,
he found that Alfonso’s price was high. Despite the resulting uproar from
his own subjects al-Mutawakkil agreed in 1093 to cede Lisbon, Sintra and
Santarém into Christian hands. These three strategic strongpoints gave the
Christians control over the Tagus estuary and thus all the lands north to the
banks of the Mondego. This additional territory, when added to the estates
Raymond already controlled, made him the second most influential figure
in the kingdom after Alfonso himself.93
With the benefit of hindsight, the year 1093 appears to have marked the
zenith of Burgundian influence in the royal court of León-Castile. Alfonso
had surrounded himself with a number of individuals who were closely
linked to Cluny and to the noble houses of Southern France: his wife, Queen
Constance, was Burgundian, as was his heir-apparent, Count Raymond, and
his most senior ecclesiastic, Archbishop Bernard. Ironically, however, even
at the point of their greatest influence, this faction – for so it can justly
be called – met the first of a long series of setbacks. The Almoravids were
undeterred by al-Mutawakkil’s alliance with Alfonso of León-Castile and in
1094 their leader, Sı̄r b. Abı̄ Bakr, launched a surprise attack on Badajoz. The
city was taken by storm and the unfortunate al-Mutawwakil was murdered,
along with his sons.94 Count Raymond’s attempt to counter the Almoravid
advance ended in disaster when the Portuguese relief force was ambushed
soon after leaving Santarém and driven back with heavy losses. Diego
Gelmírez, future archbishop of Compostela and confidant of kings, then a
young cleric in the count’s household, barely escaped to tell the tale.95
Portuguese historians have traditionally portrayed Raymond’s military
discomfiture as the beginning of his fall from royal favour. Under this
interpretation, when Alfonso learned of the debacle he lost faith in his
son-in-law’s ability to defend the western marches against the Almoravid
threat, and so began looking for a more suitable field commander. The
 Portuguese Society in the Eleventh Century 35

last mention of Raymond holding authority in Portugal came in the final

months of 1095, and the man chosen to replace him was his own cousin,
Count Henry of Burgundy.96 To induce Henry to take on the task, Alfonso
offered him the hand of his illegitimate daughter, Teresa, in marriage.
Raymond’s unwieldy county was divided into its Galician and Portuguese
components, with the more dangerous southern portion granted to Henry
on terms that as compensation were particularly generous – including
hereditary title over his lands. Unlike Raymond, Henry proved equal to the
challenge presented by the Almoravids and was able to secure the frontier
against further incursion.97
This explanation of events has proved eminently satisfying to Portuguese
pride. Count Raymond was to become the progenitor of the Spanish royal
house, while Henry founded the line of Portuguese kings! Yet two events
immediately prior to the Almoravid attack on Badajoz suggest a different
royal agenda behind the division of Count Raymond’s territory. In 1093,
probably between July and October, the Burgundians lost their most influ-
ential court ally with the death of Queen Constance.98 Later in the same
year Alfonso’s concubine Zaida, daughter-in-law of his one-time ally al-
Mu’tamid of Seville, gave birth to a son, Sancho Alfónsez.99 This child com-
pletely changed the complexion of court politics. Suddenly Alfonso was
presented with the long-cherished possibility that a son of his own might
succeed him on the throne; and the greatest obstacle to this goal became the
predominance of the Burgundians in court. Not only was Count Raymond
the strongest individual rival claimant to the throne, but as a group the
Latin court faction was both culturally and politically far more likely to
support a Burgundian nobleman than the illegitimate son of a Muslim prin-
cess. The social exclusivity of the court Burgundians had suddenly become
a threat to Alfonso’s new goal; and a change in royal priorities soon became
apparent to all. In 1094, the year after Sancho’s birth, the king’s third mar-
riage was arranged and, in a choice that marked a significant policy shift
away from Burgundy, his new wife was an Italian, named Berta.100 To fur-
ther weaken the influence of the Burgundian faction, a logical gambit from
the politically adroit king would be to divide his opponents by setting them
against each other. Fortunately for Alfonso, he had the perfect candidate
close at hand.
Count Henry of Burgundy seems to have spent much of the 1090s operat-
ing as a military commander on King Alfonso’s behalf, and it would have
been difficult to imagine a more effective foil to Count Raymond.101 Of the
two men Count Henry had the more exalted lineage. He was a descendant
of the dukes of Burgundy and could trace his line back to the French royal
family, through his grandfather Duke Robert I Capet (1032–1076), brother of
King Henry I (1031–1060). Count Henry’s elder brothers were Duke Hugh I
(1076–1079), who renounced his title in order to become abbot of Cluny, and
Duke Eudes (1079–1103); their sister was none other than Queen Constance.
36 The Reconquest Kings of Portugal

Duke Eudes of Burgundy had married Sybilla, the daughter of Count William
I of Burgundy (the duchy and county of Burgundy being geographically and
politically distinct entities), and it was from this link that Henry drew his
kinship to Count Raymond. Thus, though the two Burgundian immigrants
were technically cousins, the relationship was in fact quite tenuous. Few
men could have been better placed than Count Henry to split the loyalties
of the Burgundian court faction; and seen in this light, Alfonso’s decision to
divide Count Raymond’s territory becomes an act not of disappointment or
anger, but rather of high politics. Yet it was also a decision that was to have
dramatic, and wholly unintended, implications for the future of Portugal.
The development of relations between the Iberian frontier kingdoms and
Latin Christendom during the eleventh century was a gradual, often pain-
ful process. Direct military and political intervention was frequently ham-
pered by both European ignorance of the situation in Spain and the sharp
resistance to such intervention from the local people themselves. Over time,
the Iberian kings were able to mediate the demands of the Latin Christian
Church and the expansionist ambitions of the southern French nobility to
their own advantage, although this policy was to cause a high level of unrest
among many of their subjects. Few areas of Iberia were as deeply unsettled
by the early phases of the Latin Christian cultural permeation of the penin-
sula as was Portugal. External forces imposed new liturgical practices on an
often unwilling population and transferred the most senior ecclesiastical
offices into the hands of immigrant French clergymen. At the same time,
the tensions created by the Burgundian influence in the royal court brought
first one, and then another foreign immigrant to overall authority in the
region. Nevertheless, despite these many social dislocations, the end result
of this rising foreign influence was that for the first time Portugal was con-
stituted as a discrete political entity, under the authority of Count Henry of
Burgundy and Infanta Teresa.
2
Ambition in a World of Turmoil:
Count Henry (1096–1112)
and Infanta Teresa (1112–1128)

The marriage of Count Henry of Burgundy and Infanta Teresa was a politically
motivated union of two distinct facets of eleventh-century Spanish society.
Count Henry was the embodiment of Latin aristocratic culture; Infanta
Teresa was the illegitimate daughter of an ancient Iberian royal house. Yet
far from being an effort to reconcile two diverse strands of Spanish political
life, the marriage seems in fact to have been an attempt by Alfonso of León-
Castile to divide the Burgundian court faction against itself. The inherent
tensions this created for the couple’s authority in Portugal were evident
almost from the outset, and grew even more acute as the complex tides of
Latin cultural influence that had carried them to power gradually began
to turn. In order to survive and prosper in a changing world, Count Henry
and later Infanta Teresa were increasingly obliged to rely on local resources.
Flexibility and a seemingly boundless energy served Count Henry well.
He succeeded in adjusting to the new political currents and, in a relatively
short period, was able to consolidate his local authority to a remarkable
degree. But the fast-developing world beyond the Pyrenees could not be
safely ignored. When the unexpected death of her husband brought Infanta
Teresa to power in 1112, she was to find to her cost that the maintenance
of effective relations with the institutions of Latin Christendom could on
occasion prove decisive.

Count Henry and the consolidation of local authority

Negotiations for Count Henry’s marriage to Infanta Teresa were completed

by the end of 1096 and in April of the following year notaries wrote confi-
dently of the count’s rule extending ‘from the Minho River to the Tagus’.1
What, though, was the nature of this authority? The terms under which
Henry received the newly created county of Portugal have taken on con-
siderable importance for Spanish and Portuguese historians in light of the

37
38 The Reconquest Kings of Portugal

subsequent separation of the two countries. Charters issued by Henry and

Teresa from as early as 1097 describe the land as ‘our inheritance’ and imply
that they held absolute rights over it – a situation later construed as legiti-
mising Portuguese independence from Spain. The argument that the initial
grant of Portugal was held under some form of inalienable tenure would
seem to be strengthened by the recollections of the twelfth-century author
of the Chronica Adefonsi Imperatoris:

Because of his love and honour [for Teresa], the king gave her in marriage
to Count Henry and gave her a magnificent dowry by granting her the
land of Portugal to hold by hereditary right.2

However this seemingly forthright statement is not as straightforward as

it seems. The author’s aim was to idealise Alfonso VII, the Leonese king
who first recognised Portuguese independence, and a wise royal biographer
would certainly see the benefit in presenting the recognition of Portugal as
a result of the king’s obedience to his grandfather’s will rather than a humil-
iating loss of territory.3 For while it is certainly possible that Alfonso VI
granted Portugal to Count Henry as an inalienable right, it seems more
likely that there were conditions attached, possibly reflecting the feudal-
ism Count Henry had been familiar with in his homeland. The phrasing of
several documents seems to hint at this form of tenure, and Count Henry
does appear to have subsequently fulfilled the classic feudal duties of mili-
tary service and attendance at court – certainly this is how the relationship
was interpreted in Spain a century later.4 Ultimately, whether or not Count
Henry’s relationship with the king of León-Castile was draped in the trap-
pings of feudalism, the reality of the Burgundian count’s situation was a
direct dependency on the continued support of his royal father-in-law.5
On his arrival in Portugal Count Henry faced a number of potential chal-
lenges to his authority. The Mozarabic community nursed their grievances
after losing in rapid succession their Bishop Paternus, the bishop-elect
Martim, their ruler Sisnando Davides, then his son-in-law and heir Martim
Moniz. The Mozarabs, in common with most of the rest of the local popu-
lation, may not have seen much difference between the newly appointed
Count Henry and his predecessor, Count Raymond. Nor is there any evi-
dence that Count Henry’s authority was bolstered by even a small corps
of Burgundian retainers of his own. Indeed very few Frankish immigrants
of any sort can be traced in the contemporary Portuguese documents and
none of these immigrants held office.6 Count Henry could not even antici-
pate unqualified support from the other source of Latin Christian influence
in the region: French or French-trained clergymen. In the final years of
the eleventh century the local churches had much to occupy their atten-
tion, for the dioceses of the region – Braga, Coimbra, Porto, Viseu, Lamego
and Túy – were in fierce contention with each other in protection of long-
accrued rights and privileges, and as primate of Spain, Archbishop Bernard
 Ambition in a World of Turmoil 39

of Toledo held technical suzerainty over them all.7 Yet the Portuguese
clergymen were simply biding their time, waiting for any opportunity to
challenge the authority of Toledo. On his arrival in this turbulent county,
Henry must have felt far away from all that was familiar, and very much
alone. Moreover, his many obligations outside the county could only have
heightened his feelings of distance from those he was expected to rule.
During the first years of his overlordship in Portugal Count Henry spent
the majority of his time far from his new estates, in the company of the itin-
erant royal court, ensuring that his relations with King Alfonso remained
close. Thus, it was a rare gathering of court nobles that did not include
Count Henry in attendance and he frequently appeared as a signatory to
court documents. The count’s role in Leonese affairs also went beyond
simply witnessing official business and taking part in court routine. In
addition to attendance on the king, Count Henry was also called upon to
command royal armies in military actions far from Portugal. In November
1101, Henry led a large force to defeat south of Toledo, near the hamlet of
Malagón, although he emerged unscathed himself. The following year the
count once again took command of the armies south of Toledo. On this
occasion the Christians were on the defensive and seemed to have enjoyed
greater success.8 Rather than an independent local magnate, Henry thus
appears during this period to have been acting more as an agent of the
crown. Meanwhile, the day-to-day administration of the county rested in
the safe hands of Soeiro Mendes of Maia, the governor of Coimbra and per-
haps also the guardian of the young Infanta Teresa until her coming of age.
In a recognition of Soeiro’s importance as the local caretaker of his interests
one of Count Henry’s first official documents was a rich grant to the gov-
ernor of Coimbra.9
Even as Count Henry was thus attempting to balance his Portuguese
responsibilities with his interests in the Leonese court, developments in the
ecclesiastical sphere were creating further opportunities for local unrest.
The final decades of the eleventh century had been a difficult time for the
clergy of Braga. Bishop Pedro’s poorly conceived submission to the imperial
pope Clement III in 1091 had led to Pedro’s own deposition after which
the cathedra had remained empty for several years. In the absence of strong
leadership Braga’s ecclesiastical rivals were able to advance their causes
unhindered. Neighbouring bishops laid claims to a number of territories
long held by the ancient metropolitan church; looming behind these squab-
bles was the tendentious issue of the extent of the archbishop of Toledo’s
primatial rights over the region, which had yet to be satisfactorily defined.10
The appointment of the saintly Gerald of Moissac as bishop in 1097 marked
a significant turning point in the fortunes of the church in Braga.11 Bishop
Gerald was a former monk of Cluny and protégée of Archbishop Bernard
of Toledo, although his relations with his old mentor soon cooled due
to Bernard’s resistance to the restoration of Braga’s metropolitan status.
Moreover, Bishop Gerald faced a difficult situation almost immediately on
40 The Reconquest Kings of Portugal

his arrival in the disheartened region. In 1098 Bishop Cresconio of Coimbra

died and was succeeded by Maurice, an independent-minded Cluniac monk
also recruited by Bernard of Toledo from France. A dispute of unknown
cause soon arose as the new incumbent sought to test Gerald’s authority.12
In the face of these provocations the bishop of Braga deemed it prudent to
make the long journey to Rome in order to put his case personally to the
papal court. This was a controversial action, in clear defiance of Bernard
of Toledo’s position of overall authority in the peninsula. Nevertheless,
the direct approach soon bore fruit. In 1100 a new papal legate, Cardinal
Richard of Marseilles, arrived in Spain where, despite Archbishop Bernard’s
own legatine status, he convened an ecclesiastical council at Palencia. This
council proved to be a coup for Gerald of Braga: the ancient metropolitan
rights of his church were formally acknowledged and Cardinal Richard
recognised Gerald’s own archiepiscopal status.13
The newly recognised archbishop of Braga had little time to savour this
measure of success, for another threat was rising to the north. In 1095
Bishop Dalmace of Iria had used the opportunity presented by the Council
of Clermont to secure a double triumph. The episcopal seat of Iria was trans-
ferred to Santiago de Compostela and freed from the oversight of either
Braga or Toledo – it was a success that would have dramatic long-term
implications throughout the peninsula.14 The death of Bishop Dalmace the
following year led to a disputed succession and only after papal interven-
tion did Diego Gelmírez, a native of Galicia and long-time administrator
of the see, emerge victorious.15 This was a fortunate development for later
historians as Diego Gelmírez encouraged and supported the production of
an invaluable chronicle of his church: the Historia Compostellana.16 Starkly
revealed in the pages of this history are Bishop Diego’s boundless ambitions
for Compostela, and also his willingness to use forceful, even unscrupulous
methods to gain these ends. The new bishop’s political style was well dem-
onstrated in his early relations with Archbishop Gerald.
One point of contention between the two administrations was
Compostela’s claims over the churches of St Vitor and St Fructuoso in the
suburbs of Braga. Fearing, perhaps, that Gerald’s strengthening position
would see Compostela divested of these assets, Diego Gelmírez resorted to
plundering them. Under cover of an assessment of his holdings, the bishop
seized the relics of several saints and bore them in triumph back to his
own cathedral.17 While the Galicians could describe this ‘pious theft’ (pium
latrocinium) in terms of divine will, the local Portuguese were filled with an
outrage still echoed by modern writers.18 In the face of such provocation
Archbishop Gerald once again set out for Rome, possibly in the company
of Count Henry, and received a sympathetic hearing in the papal court. In
April 1103 Pope Paschal (1099–1118) confirmed the actions of the coun-
cil of Palencia and formally recognised Gerald as archbishop. The depend-
ent bishoprics were named as Astorga, Lugo, Túy, Mondoñedo, Orense and
 Ambition in a World of Turmoil 41

Porto. The contested status of Coimbra, which despite its proximity to Braga
had been claimed by both Toledo and Compostela, was also addressed. In
1103 Coimbra and its controversially dependent sees of Viseu and Lamego
were all placed under Gerald’s authority.19 Nevertheless, Bishop Diego of
Compostela refused to be discouraged. Two years later he returned to Rome
by way of Cluny, hoping to secure the elevation of his own see to metro-
politan status. Pope Paschal was unwilling to grant such a sweeping request,
although he soothed the ambitious prelate by granting him the right to
wear the regalia of an archbishop on certain feast days.20 As a result of these
decisions, the traditional predominance Braga had enjoyed in the region
appeared to have been re-established.
Count Henry’s role in these ecclesiastical machinations had been one of
careful, ostensible neutrality. Publicly he accepted the authority of Bernard
of Toledo in matters of local church organisation and did not demur when
the archbishop placed his own candidates in vacant Portuguese sees. In a
similar spirit, the pragmatic count of Portugal made pious grants to churches
on all sides of these disputes.21 This is not to say that he was disinterested
in the outcome. The Burgundian count would certainly have been aware
that Archbishop Gerald’s success in defending the prestige of the region’s
premier church could only reflect well on his own leadership. There was,
however, another aspect to the archbishop’s activities that Henry may have
viewed with considerably less equanimity. Gerald of Braga saw it as his duty
to take the lead in forwarding the reform that the papacy’s social agenda
called for. He was committed to the imposition of religious conformity
throughout the region and, more controversially, he demanded absolute
ecclesiastical independence from lay authority. Archbishop Gerald’s biog-
rapher, Archdeacon Bernard (himself an immigrant Frenchman, and the
future bishop of Coimbra), recalled with evident pride the firm stand Gerald
took in the face of pressure from such leading local magnates as Count
Soeiro Mendes de Maia, the influential governor of Coimbra.22 Yet such
confrontations between local aristocrats and newly arrived foreign ecclesi-
astics placed Count Henry in a delicate situation. He owed his position to
Latin Christian influences in the royal court and was to a certain degree
obliged to encourage such efforts at Church reform. However, his support
was a careful balancing act in which ecclesiastical expectations had to be
satisfied – without alienating those powerful local interests he simply could
not afford to number among his enemies.
Count Henry realised early that to sustain his authority in Portugal in
the longer term he needed to create an effective base of local support. He
was also astute enough to recognise that the key to local authority was to
translate the resources of the county into effective troops and that the surest
way to secure the respect of his subjects was to lead such troops in successful
campaigns. The traditional means to attract noble supporters was through
the carefully targeted disbursement of goods and lands. Count Henry
Random documents with unrelated
content Scribd suggests to you:
damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer
codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.

1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for

the “Right of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3,
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the
Project Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a
Project Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim
all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR
NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR
BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH
1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK
OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL
NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT,
CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF
YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE.

1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you

discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving
it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by
sending a written explanation to the person you received the work
from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must
return the medium with your written explanation. The person or
entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide
a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work
electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to
give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in
lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may
demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the
problem.

1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO
OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED,
INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF
MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied

warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted
by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.

1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation,

the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation,
anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in
accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with
the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™
electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses,
including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the
following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or
any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or
additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any
Defect you cause.

Section 2. Information about the Mission

of Project Gutenberg™
Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of
computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.
It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and
donations from people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the

assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a
secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future
generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help,
see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at
www.gutenberg.org.

Section 3. Information about the Project

Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws.

The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West,

Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up
to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website
and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact

Section 4. Information about Donations to

the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation
Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without
widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can
be freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the
widest array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many
small donations ($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to
maintaining tax exempt status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating

charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and
keep up with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in
locations where we have not received written confirmation of
compliance. To SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of
compliance for any particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate.

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where

we have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no
prohibition against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in
such states who approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make

any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of
other ways including checks, online payments and credit card
donations. To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate.

Section 5. General Information About

Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project
Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be
freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and
distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of
volunteer support.
Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in
the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not
necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper
edition.

Most people start at our website which has the main PG search
facility: www.gutenberg.org.

This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™,

including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how
to subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
Welcome to our website – the perfect destination for book lovers and
knowledge seekers. We believe that every book holds a new world,
offering opportunities for learning, discovery, and personal growth.
That’s why we are dedicated to bringing you a diverse collection of
books, ranging from classic literature and specialized publications to
self-development guides and children's books.

More than just a book-buying platform, we strive to be a bridge

connecting you with timeless cultural and intellectual values. With an
elegant, user-friendly interface and a smart search system, you can
quickly find the books that best suit your interests. Additionally,
our special promotions and home delivery services help you save time
and fully enjoy the joy of reading.

Join us on a journey of knowledge exploration, passion nurturing, and

personal growth every day!

ebookbell.com