Medieval Islam: origins (sticky)

Islam and the Christian West: in a chronic face-off since 600 AD, and yet we in the West know so little about Islam and its adherents. When I worked on this topic in the past, it became clear to me that many of our misunderstandings come from knowing little of the history. What would it look like, trying to understand America without knowing England’s history? What about comprehending Jesus without knowing anything of either Jews or the Roman Empire? That’s the position we’re in, and usually we don’t even know it.

This time, I want to go through the story of Islam’s emergence in the world by starting before Islam, in Arabia. I want to lay out how Arabian culture shaped Muslim practice, in both sameness/continuation and difference/rejection. I want to spend some time on what we know of the life of Muhammad, and even more importantly, how we know what we know—-and how we don’t always know which things those are. What are the records like? How should they be judged? What are differences between the way Muslims tell the story and the way Western scholars do?

I won’t be writing in a way to persuade anyone to convert to Islam, but I won’t be writing in a way to condemn everything in it, either. It won’t be my business to mark history up with merits and demerits, generally. I think we are all better off when we know more about the same facts, regardless of how we feel about them. A historically neutral tone tells you what the evidence shows and what the records say, including what people say about themselves. When there’s doubt, you can judge for yourself.

So if you want to follow this series through my blog, START HERE. The series will follow chronologically after. What you see on this page, below the sticky note, could be much farther along in the series.

If you want to use the categories search feature to find a section of the story, the life of Muhammad is classified as Islam History A. From the moment after his death through the fall of the Umayyads is Islam History B. The rise of the Abbasids at the expense of the Umayyads begins Islam History C. The Crusades begin at Islam History D. The invasion of the Mongols is at Islam History E. The Ottoman Empire period begins at Islam History F.

The sources I am primarily using for the origins story are:

Arabia and the Arabs: From the Bronze Age to the Coming of Islam, by Robert Hoyland.

Arabs: A 3000 Year History of Peoples, Tribes and Empires, by Tim Mackintosh-Smith.

Revelation: The Story of Muhammad, by Meraj Mohiuddin and Sherman Jackson.

Muhammad: His Life Based on the Earliest Sources, by Martin Lings.

After the Prophet, by Lesley Hazelton.

The Heirs of Muhammad, by Barnaby Rogerson

Great Arab Conquests, by Hugh Kennedy

The War of the Three Gods: Romans, Persians, and the Rise of Islam, by Peter Crawford.

The Lives of the Twelve: A Look at the Social and Political Lives of the Twelve Infallible Imams. Shaykh Mahdi Pishvai, translated by Sayyid Ali Musawi.

A Historical Research on the Lives of the Twelve Shi’a Imams. Mahdi Mahgrebi

I have read many other books and articles in the past writing stretches, and I frequently check facts and opinions on internet sources, many of which are linked in the essays. Maybe some day I’ll try to collect them in a list. For now, just enjoy reading the essays.

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How should Beowulf be translated?

Most people today have heard of Irish poet Seamus Heaney’s translation of Beowulf, since it won an award when it was published in 1999, four years after he won the Nobel Prize for Literature. By the time Heaney attempted the poem, it had been translated at least 42 times before, and I think many more. 42 is the number I can count at Wikipedia’s list of translations, but when I was doing research for my book in 2004, I noted more than 100. As I was writing my book, I knew a young man who was working on his own translation at the time.

Each translator feels, probably rightly, that something is missing from the attempts that have been made so far. I think this feeling is inherent in the relationship of modern English to Old English. It’s a foreign language, all right, but it’s one that keeps tossing familiar words our way. In some ways it’s an easy foreign language, especially for anyone who first learned German (which I did not), because it does feel familiar. It’s not nearly as close to our daily speech as Biblical Hebrew is to Israeli Hebrew, nor even as close as modern Greek is to Homer’s Greek. And yet: it feels like there should be some way to just draw a magic circle, turn round three times, and find the old language leaping into our speech without much alteration.

The translations into English run parallel to English poetry norms, too. In Tennyson’s time, they aspired to capture the story in iambic pentameter or heroic couplets, or at least in some kind of meter and rhyme. That’s how Professor Wackerbarth put it, in 1849:

“But haughty Hunferth, Ecg-láf’s Son
Who sat at royal Hróth-gár’s Feet
To bind up Words of Strife begun
And to address the noble Geat.

In 1876, Thomas Arnold gave us prose:

Hunferth spake, the son of Ecglaf, who sat at the feet of the master of the Scyldings; he unbound the secret counsel of his malice.

And between these two extremes, in 1860, Benjamin Thorpe provided verse, but only in a literal word-for-word translation, abandoning any attempt at poetic decoration:

Hunferth spake,
Ecglaf’s son,
who at the feet sat
of the Scyldings’ lord;
unbound a hostile speech.

In 1892, Stopford Brooke produced the fourth possibility, which was only made possible by the growing body of Old English poetry scholarship. His version may have been the first to attempt using modern English vocabulary to imitate the Old English poetry style:

There at haven stood, hung with rings the ship,
Ice-bright, for the outpath eager, craft of Aethelings.
So their lord, the well-beloved, all at length they laid
In the bosom of the bark, him the bracelet-giver,—
By the mast the mighty king.

Those are really the only four logical choices for how to do it. Each way has some gain, some loss. The Victorians’ love of meter and rhyme is not shared by our time, so that option has not been much attempted in the last century. But taking the other three, with prose there is the most clarity of meaning, as it just tells the story. With literal word-for-word translation, something like modern free verse emerges, but the rhythm of the Old English verse is lost. With an attempt to capture Old English’s alliteration and four-beat meter, but in modern words, we lose literal precision.

I had to choose a translation in 2004, for the purpose of quoting lines in my book. I chose the 2000 translation by Roy Liuzza, a professor at the University of Tennessee. I wasn’t trying to slight Heaney, and one consideration was that I needed to get reprint permission and once you’ve won the Nobel Prize, your publisher will charge dearly for the privilege. Heaney was too expensive. But as good as his translation is, I really liked Liuzza’s better. But if you want to read along in Beowulf as I blog about it on Facebook, really you may choose any translation that suits you. After his death, Tolkien’s prose translation was published, so that is also a good choice. In our time, they’re really all very good.

Reference: Project Gutenberg’s The Translations of Beowulf, by Chauncey Brewster Tinker

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Early interpretations of Beowulf

The first early attempts to make sense of the poem that Thorkelin published were made by Thorkelin himself and an Englishman, Sharon Turner. At this time, very little was known of the Old English (Anglo-Saxon) language. These early interpretations were generally filled with mistakes, to the point that they missed the gist of the story. An excellent source concerning these early attempts is The Translations of Beowulf, by Chauncey Brewster Tinker (Yale, 1903).

Thorkelin translated Beowulf into Latin, which was still the universal scholarly language. Sharon Turner translated into English, and he was working on his while Thorkelin was still watching his printed copies go up in smoke. Naturally, they became rivals who sniped at each other’s errors. Both of them interpreted Beowulf as a Viking king, literally a pirate. They misunderstood side stories as main story, they assumed he was the hero of every side story, and it’s not clear that they even grasped the monster’s role.

Turner, like Wanley and other antiquarians before him, learned his Old English mainly from copying texts in the British Museum. He probably learned a lot from a school text from the early 1000’s, which was supposed to teach Latin to Old English speakers. Using this basic vocabulary, antiquarians had been able to read simple prose like the history written by Venerable Bede. Turner tackled passages, and he published three editions, always adding more but never presenting the whole. And never actually getting it.

The first scholar to grasp the basic story and its significance was Nicolas Gruntvig, a Danish scholar of old Germanic literature. Gruntvig was already the author of a book on Germanic mythology, which gave him a background the others missed. He bought Thorkelin’s text but couldn’t read it with clarity, so he began reading through the entire thing, committing it to memory. This unorthodox approach allowed him to see the whole before he understood the parts. With his expertise in mythology, he recognized some names, such as Scyld, the first person we hear about in the poem. Thorkelin and Turner had assumed Scyld must be a character in the story; Gruntvig recognized that he was not.

With his friend Rasmus Rask, who was writing a grammar of Old English, Gruntvig tackled the entire poem. But he explained in his 1820 Danish version that “I have studied the poem as if I were going to translate it word for word . . . but I will not and have not translated it in that way.” (quoted in Tinker) And he didn’t. He hoped his paraphrased poem would become a study text for schools, but he sold barely any copies.

In 1835, there was finally a decent, full translation into English. John Kemble of Cambridge had full access to the rapidly growing field of linguistics, and he even corresponded with Jakob Grimm, who with Rasmus Rask had been formulating the famous “Grimm’s Law.” The Old English text as he printed it was basically the same as our modern one, with spelling and other nuances correct. He was even able to hazard a guess at an unknown word by comparing it to Gothic.

Once Kemble’s scholarly translation was available, the game changed. After Kemble, there could still be many scholarly studies of the words, but now the raw material was out there for translators to play with. In 1849, Professor Wackerbarth at St. Mary’s, Oscott (Roman Catholic) seminary came out with an improved translation. He, too, was a scholar of the original language, but the task became much easier after Kemble. His poem was in meter and rhyme…and this brings us to the question: what is the best way to recast the poem? Meter and rhyme? Imitation of the Old English sounds? Prose? There are arguments for all three, and all three have been done far more than once.

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Beowulf: the discovery, 1786

Copenhagen, Court of King Christian VII, 1786: The royal archivist Grim Johnson Thorkelin goes to London on a research expedition. Thorkelin is an Icelander whose native tongue is closer to the language of the Vikings than is Copenhagen’s “modern” Danish. He is going to London to search old archives, looking for anything pertaining to the period of Danish rule in England.

There was not yet any British Museum per se, but there are collections that have been donated to the government. When King Henry VIII ordered monasteries to be looted, destroyed, and sold in the mid-16th century, some of the wealthy men living nearby were able to purchase monastic libraries before they could be burned. When the new owners opened these manuscripts, many were shocked at how incomprehensible the words were. Nobody had previously stopped to think about the rate of language change, but now it was borne in on them that recent history might soon be lost. And so these men became antiquaries, collecting everything old that they could find.

First, Thorkelin sat down with a list made by Humphrey Wanley around 1700. Wanley was a former draper’s apprentice who had educated himself by copying old books until he was among the leading antiquarian scholars of his time. Wanley was tasked with cataloging the book collections that had been donated to the government. He opened every scroll and book, trying to see what was in each one, making a master list. Thorkelin’s attention was caught by one item’s description: Anglo-Saxon poetry, a description of the wars of Beowulf, a Danish prince, against the Swedes.

The collection that contained what we know as Beowulf came from Sir Robert Cotton, a leading collector whose teacher and mentor had been born right around the time that the monasteries were broken up. Using his teacher’s guidance, Cotton had collected all of the very old books he could buy from their original rescuers. He kept them in his Shropshire home’s large library, where the room was lined with heavy bookcases. On top of every bookcase was a bust of a Roman emperor: this matters because these emperors were used to map the library’s contents.

The manuscript we’re interested in was on Emperor Vitellius’ shelf. It was the fifteenth book on the top shelf, so when Wanley catalogued it, it was called Cotton Vitellius A.xv. Cotton Augustus II.106 was a copy of the Magna Carta from 1215, while Nero A.x contained “Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.” Julius A.x was a book of martyrs, while Domitian A.viii was a copy of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle.

Cotton Vitellius A.xv had two manuscripts bound together, and each one had multiple books in it. The second collection is known as the Nowell Codex, after Laurence Nowell, an early antiquarian collector. Could Nowell have been the one who rescued the codex from destruction? Probably not, since he was about eight years old in 1538, when the sacking of monasteries began. But we have no record of an earlier collector, and he probably paid someone to bind together these works: The Life of St. Christopher, Wonders of the East, A Letter of Aristotle to Alexander, Beowulf, and Judith. There are other copies of most of these works, but only in the Nowell Codex do we find Beowulf.

Grim Johnson Thorkelin found the Nowell Codex in parlous condition. In 1731, the house storing Cotton’s donated collection caught fire. Men pushed the bookcases out the windows, but some manuscripts had already begun to smolder. They caught fire at the back, so the outer edges of many pages were charred, but most of the library was saved, including the Nowell Codex. Fifty years of storage had passed since that charring. Thorkelin carefully turned pages that were faded, smudged by smoke, and crumbling.

Working with a scribe, Thorkelin created two transcriptions of the letters on each page, now known as Thorkelin A and B. Each copy had some errors, but they could compare the copies and fix most errors. Leaving Cotton Vitellius A.xv in the nascent British Museum, Thorkelin returned to Copenhagen with his copies. There, he began getting “Beowulf” set in type. Yet one more disaster loomed: during the Napoleonic Wars, Britain decided to destroy Denmark’s navy at anchor in Copenhagen harbor. Some of the artillery fired from British ships sailed too far and struck the town, and as luck would have it, Thorkelin’s house caught fire. Only the original hand copies A and B were saved. Thorkelin started over, and in 1815, he finally published a printed copy.

For a long time, Thorkelin’s printed manuscript was the only full poem that translators could consult, since the original Nowell Codex was in such a fragile condition. Only in recent years has the British Museum made high-quality photographs of each page, making the digital images available to scholars. Professor Kevin Kiernan of the University of Kentucky made the actual physical manuscript his chief subject of study, and he also has the digital MS posted. I’ll talk more about his studies later.


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“Beowulf” in Time

In our libraries, you can find over 200 translations of Beowulf. Most college-educated people have met the poem in their last year of high school or their first two years of college; it is typically the first item in a survey course of English literature. If you’re a movie buff, there are about a dozen film and television versions, each “unhappy in its own way.” We think of Beowulf as something that has always been around, like Shakespeare.

But during the lifetime of Shakespeare, there was no Beowulf. That is to say, there was one single unread copy in one obscure library. It physically existed, but as literature in society, it didn’t exist. Samuel Johnson, who used countless rare old books to write the first English dictionary, had never heard of it. Jane Austen’s literary family knew nothing of it. The German poet Goethe probably never read it, though he may have heard rumors that it existed.

Being able to read Beowulf goes firmly with our modern world. The first full translation of Beowulf appeared in 1837, the year Victoria became Queen and Charles Dickens began publishing Oliver Twist. That same year the daguerrotype, earliest photographic method, and the first telegraph were patended, and Proctor & Gamble. Michigan became the 26th state, and Charles Darwin had just finished his second HMS Beagle voyage.

And yet the story itself takes us far enough back in time that we aren’t sure exactly where it fits. It may have been written during the Viking Age, but it isn’t about Viking conquests and references neither Ireland nor England. Its heroes are the Danes, but it’s written in Old English, not Danish. Some of its characters can be connected with historical kings in the sixth century, but the language and writing style belong to the 11th century.

Some scholars believe that the poem began as a memorized, chanted oral tradition, probably composed not long after the sixth century. Other scholars believe it’s a work of historical fiction composed only a few decades before the Norman Conquest. Others including Tolkien believed it was the work of a Christian writing around 750, during the height of Christian Anglo-Saxon culture.

In this series, I’ll cover all of these topics, and we’ll also go through the story. You can buy my book and read all this faster, if you like. It was published in 2005 in a library-bound hardcover edition by Greenwood Press, who had commissioned it in the first place. I bought paperback rights from Greenwood, which was not a typical thing for a Greenwood author to do. Greenwood still owns both hardcover and digital rights, but my much less expensive paperback competes with both. And it has a cooler cover.

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Medieval Heraldic Animals

The charge was often more than a geometric ordinary. A wide variety of animals were favored for coats of arms. The lion was the most favored, especially for royalty. It was not native to Europe, and it was only seen alive in royal menageries or depicted in traditional bestiary books. As a result, most medieval heraldic lions did not look much like real lions. Very similar beasts might be called tigers or leopards. The chief artistic difference was that lions had to be standing up, called rampant. In French heraldry, any lion standing on four feet was a leopard, even if other nations still called it a lion.

A lion rampant was standing on its back legs with its front paws in the air, claws outstretched and mouth open. A lion passant was shown walking, a lion statant was standing, a lion sejant was seated, and a lion couchant was lying down, with his head up. They could be gardant, looking forward, or regardant, looking back toward their tails. Artists took liberties with animals to give them variety. The lion passant might have two tails or two heads.

Animals that took part in aristocratic hunts were the next most popular heraldic animals, and they had the advantage of not implying royalty. When a family’s surname or estate sounded like an animal, it was often incorporated into the arms, such as bears for Barnard. Wolves, boars, bears, and stags were the most popular heraldic quarries. Horses and dogs also figured in arms. Bulls, not hunted but viewed as noble and strong, could be used. Like lions, all these animals could be posed standing, sitting, or walking and could look forward or back. Heraldic painters could differentiate each coat of arms, making it unique in an increasingly crowded field of registered designs.

Some birds were common figures as charges. Eagles were by far the favorite choice. They could be in different positions, but most were shown with the belly toward the viewer, wings spread and head turned to one side. This view was called displayed. Some eagles had two heads. The only other birds that figured in medieval heraldry were the mythical phoenix, shown on its fiery nest, the falcon, and the raven.

Monsters were equally popular. There were monsters borrowed from classical mythology, such as the dragon, the centaur, and the unicorn. Dragons and unicorns were the most popular heraldic monsters, and dragons appeared on some English and Welsh battle flags. Other monsters were combinations of animals. Griffins had a lion’s body, an eagle’s wings, and a head of an eagle but with a lion’s ears. Their back feet were lion’s paws, and their front feet had eagle’s claws. Some other hybrids were the invention of artists. Lions could have wings, or they could have a back half like a fish—literally a sea lion. Wings were particularly popular; there were winged stags, goats, and bulls, as well as Pegasus, the winged horse from Greek mythology.

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Medieval Zoos

Many kings and noblemen (and even some Popes) kept menageries of exotic animals, following the example of Roman emperors. The Roman emperors used some of the animals for public displays at the Circus. Medieval monarchs rarely, if ever, had fighting exhibitions in the Roman style. Some had public parades of their animals to show their magnificence. A favorite theme was to have exotic animals paraded with foreigners from Arabia or Ethiopia in order to suggest that the king was dominant over these far-off regions.

The earliest medieval zoos were in Muslim Spain. The caliphs in Cordoba kept a large zoo of exotic animals, many imported from Africa and Asia. It was surrounded by a moat to keep the animals secure. In the ninth century, Charlemagne kept a menagerie at Aachen, in a climate colder than most of the animals were adapted for. The caliph of Baghdad sent an elephant for his collection, which had to make a long journey on foot over the Alps and only lived a few years. Charlemagne also kept camels, lions and monkeys, and a few bears.

Beginning with William I, the English kings kept a menagerie that by the middle of the 13th century was housed at the Tower of London. The records are not clear as to which animals lived there at which times, nor how they were fed or cared for. One chronicler stated that Henry I had a victory parade in Normandy that included a leopard riding a horse and a panther pulling a chariot. Another reported that King Henry II of England kept a menagerie of exotic animals at his palace at Woodstock. Reportedly, he had lions, leopards, camels, and a porcupine.

Henry III kept a pair of leopards or lions at the Tower of London, a gift of Emperor Frederick II of Germany. His son, Prince Edward, became known as the “Leopard Prince” in association with both the heraldic and the menagerie cats. Henry III added a polar bear, a gift from the king of Norway. The keepers allowed the white bear to swim in the Thames on a leash, catching its own fish, but kept it muzzled the rest of the time. In 1254, Henry’s brother-in-law, King Louis IX of France, sent him an elephant. It lived in a special house in London and was eagerly viewed by the public, but it did not live more than a few years.

The Tower of London continued to have a royal menagerie, probably housed mainly in the gatehouse of the Lion Gate. As animals died, they replaced the lions, leopards, and bears, with at least one more polar bear making its appearance in the reign of Edward I. Tower records show that each lion ate one quarter of a sheep every day, making them very expensive pets. By the 15th century, the collection was not large, but it was still in existence. The Lion Tower began to admit some paying visitors to see the animals. King Henry VI decreed that in lieu of a cash fee, visitors could offer an animal, such as a dog, cat, or sheep, to feed the lions. In 1436, the lions died, presumably of an illness, and the collection had to be started again.

The largest royal menagerie on the European continent may have been the one owned by Frederick II of Germany in the 13th century. He kept it at his palace in Palermo, Sicily. Frederick was a highly educated, intelligent man with a keen interest in science. He kept lions, leopards, camels, elephants, and a giraffe and sometimes displayed them in parades. The kings of France also had menageries at some of their castles: elephants, bears, lions, and porcupines are among those recorded, as well as exotic birds. King Charles V kept a porpoise in a pool, and even the duc de Berry kept bears. The 14th-century Popes who lived in splendor at Avignon kept exotic animals, including peacocks, ostriches, and camels, as well as the common lions and bears.

Italian city menageries kept many lions. Medieval Rome, like ancient Rome, kept lions as a symbol of its dominance. Florence kept a pit of 24 lions and sometimes used them in fighting displays against other animals. Venice’s lions were observed as the lioness gave birth to three cubs, and to everyone’s amazement, the cubs were born alive. Bestiaries had explained confidently that lion cubs are born dead, and are licked back to life after three days, as a picture of Jesus’s death and resurrection. Once Europeans had even a limited opportunity to observe lions and other animals firsthand, they stopped trusting the ancient myths passed down by the bestiaries.

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Medieval War Horses

Byzantine troops depended heavily on mounted archers, who also carried spears and a sword. They could use lassos, as could other Eastern cavalrymen, and they occasionally used them as weapons. Byzantine cavalrymen fought in a unit and were trained to stay together in ranks. They were a fighting unit, not individual knights.

The western Germanic tribes—the Franks and Anglo-Saxons—had no tradition of fighting on horseback. The eastern Ostrogoths, Visigoths, Vandals, and Lombards did, but they did not combine cavalry with bows. Avars, Turks, Mongols, and Magyars, invaders from Asia, all rode small horses and were able to shoot arrows on horseback.

The first Muslim armies were cavalry and rode both camels and horses. Some did not use saddles, and they did not adopt stirrups at first. By the ninth century, after taking over Byzantine and Persian territories, they were using both wooden and iron stirrups. They fought with bows, but also with long spears. Arab horses were famous for their small size and great speed. The Arabs called them Faras and kept their breeding separate from the Barb horses of North Africa. The Muslim conquest of Spain was mostly carried out by North African Berbers commanded by Arab generals. They brought their Barb horses and also used the existing strains of horses in Spain, now called the Andalusian breed. They were larger than true Arab horses. Muslim emirs and caliphs in Spain used selective breeding to blend Spanish and North African horses.

After Charles Martel’s heavy infantry defeated Arab cavalry at the Battle of Poitiers, the Franks began to use mounted warriors. The Avars, invading from the East, were defeated in 976, and the Franks adopted their use of stirrups. They did not develop methods of horseback archery and instead trained to charge with lances and fight with swords on horseback. Their horses may have been mostly purchased from Spain, since later Charlemagne sent “Spanish” horses to the caliph of Baghdad as a gift.

The Franks also learned to hunt on horseback. Charlemagne spent many hours on horses every day, both hunting and training for war. He required horses as part of the taxation of his nobles; his royal farms carried out breeding programs. Each stallion had a small herd of mares, but they were rotated out to other herds to prevent inbreeding. Inferior horses spread into civil society as riding horses and packhorses. Unlike later Christian Europeans, the Franks had no taboo against eating old horses.

More horse-based invaders came into Europe. Magyars from Hungary and Mongols from central Asia both used mounted warriors exclusively. They traveled in horse-drawn wagons and lived in tents. Their ponies foraged on grass and did not need extra provisions, so both the Magyars and the Mongols could travel faster than Frankish armies. Their ponies knew how to dig for grass under the snow, while European horses did not. However, their style of horse warfare was better suited to the flat grasslands of central Asia. Western Europe was forested and did not have as much foraging pasturage. Even without military defeat, their onrush was slowed because their horses could not graze as they were used to once they left Asia.

Henry of Saxony became king of Germany in 919, during the invasions of the Magyars. He built walled towns and trained a cavalry force that was able to stop the invasion. The Magyars settled down as horse-breeders in Hungary. The new Christian kingdom of Hungary continued to use light cavalry with mounted archers, although they also adopted Western Europe’s technology of heavy mounted knights. Hungary’s horse ways were no longer distinctively Asian.

During the 10th and 11th centuries, some Norman knights traveled to Spain and fought against the Muslim armies as part of the Christian effort to reconquer the peninsula. Some brought back Spanish stallions and used them to improve Norman horses. By the 11th century, Normans were expert cavalry warriors. When the Normans invaded Anglo-Saxon England in 1066, they transported about 2,000 horses in open boats across the English Channel. The Anglo-Saxons had horses, but they only used them for travel. They fought on foot, using a shield wall. At first, they were able to withstand the Norman cavalry charge, but their shield wall broke after several charges and retreats, and the Norman mounted soldiers ran them down. From that time, mounted warfare was dominant in Europe until the era of gunpowder.

The chief use for heavy warhorses was the chevauchée, a mass charge by many knights in a line. Saddles for this tactic had rigid walls and essentially locked the knight onto the horse’s back. The knight held a lance tucked under his arm, reaching well in front of the horse. He could also fight with his sword on horseback, but his lance was his primary weapon. The horse was trained to charge into danger and to stop and turn quickly.

During the 12th century, selective breeding by kings and other wealthy lords sought to create the best kind of warhorse. While size was an object, overall strength mattered more. Once knights had been trained and armed for horseback fighting, they were dependent on their mounts. If the horses tired or could not carry them, they were more likely to be killed out from under them, and a knight without a horse was not an effective fighter. A knight whose leg was trapped by a fallen horse had to surrender.

In spite of selective breeding for size, knights’ horses were not large until the 14th century. Most warhorses whose skeletons have been examined were not taller than 14 or 15 hands. Modern racehorses are usually taller than 15 hands, and modern draft horses are about 18 hands tall. A typical 14th-century knight stood shoulder to shoulder with his horse.

However, by the late Middle Ages, there was a distinctive type of horse—the destrier, or “great horse”—for jousting. These horses were not large by modern standards, but they were heavy and tall by medieval measure. They were 15 or 16 hands, and they were heavily muscled so that they could carry a great deal of weight for their size. Horses were expected to carry not only their rider and his armor, but also their own armor. First it was thick leather padding for the horse’s chest and head, and then steel plates. The armor and the padded drapery, decorated with heraldic designs, were called a caparison. The increase in padded horse armor then drove spurs to greater size, since a horse protected from lances was also protected from his own rider’s spurs.

Knights rode on palfreys or coursers to travel and had their destriers led to spare their strength. Coursers were faster than warhorses, and they could be mares or gelded horses. Destriers were always stallions, and they were fiery in temper and fantastically expensive compared to lesser horses. A warhorse could cost more than a year’s income, but the horse for a servant, or for an archer to ride on to move about from battle to battle, might cost less than a tenth of a warhorse.

The Crusaders were heavily dependent on horses, both for travel and for fighting. They shipped the horses in special transport ships that could carry between 30 and 100 horses. The ship voyage across the Mediterranean, which lasted more than two months, had to be broken into stages so the horses could get fresh air and exercise on islands. Once in Palestine, the horses had to be brought back to full strength after so much inactivity. When they were injured or died in battle, it was difficult for the knights to replace them, and some knights had to ride mules.

Crusading orders of knights like the Templars kept large stables of horses, with all the supplies needed: farriers, harness makers, grooms, and large supplies of hay and water. In addition to their destriers, Templars needed palfreys to ride while traveling and rounceys for the servants or squires who led the warhorses. All war undertakings required workhorses to carry equipment and supplies. Crusaders were in constant need of buying replacement horses in order to remain effective in hostile territory. They began to use Arabian horses and mules more than the heavy Norman horses they had brought with them. Food and water shortages killed many horses during campaigns and sieges. It was a prolonged struggle to maintain a Northern European war style in the Holy Land.

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Medieval Horses in Peacetime

Horses became more important on farms when towns grew and farmers needed to carry food to market in carts. Horses had been used as pack animals before, but carts and wagons could carry much more. A packhorse could not carry more than 400 pounds, but with a cart, the same horse could transport a ton of hay. Horse breeding and care became more important, and horse markets grew. Horses were bred for size, and, over the last centuries of the Middle Ages, the average horse size grew by one or two hands.

Large international horse markets were held in cities like Antwerp, Cologne, and Genoa. Breeders sent agents into North Africa to buy Arabian horses and combed Europe for the best stock. Horses from the various regions across Europe were considered different breeds. The most prized horses in Northern Europe came from Spain and were often called Castilian horses. They were part North African Barb and perhaps part Arabian. They were among the tallest horses. Arabian horses in the Middle East and parts of Spain were small but very swift, had thin, elegant heads and legs, and were valued for breeding. Hungarian and Danish horses were smaller but were considered very strong, and Hungarian horses often had slit nostrils to help them breathe better while running. Horses bred in Normandy were heavily muscled. Horses from southern Italy were light boned and made good palfreys for riding but not destriers; northern Italian horses were larger.

In the 12th century, London’s Smithfield Fair became known for weekly horse sales that continued into the 19th century. Medieval horses were generally divided into the uses they were trained for. A visitor to the Smithfield Fair described seeing tall palfreys, warhorses, rounceys for general riding, plow horses (also called affers), and pack horses (also called sumpter horses). Some pack horses were mules, since donkeys were even more plentiful than horses during the Middle Ages.

Palfreys were somewhat smaller than destriers but were nearly as expensive and carefully bred. They were supposed to have quiet temperaments, unlike the destriers. Palfreys were used for hunting, ceremonial parades, and general travel among the aristocracy. Rounceys were grouped by the gait they were trained to use. The gallopers were called coursers and were ridden by men at arms and messengers. Some rounceys were trained to trot and were used by gentlemen as their main riding horse. Amblers were trained to walk with a simple rocking gait by moving their same-side legs at the same time. Both left legs, then both right legs, moving in tandem. This gait is not natural to horses. Amblers were the lady’s choice of a riding horse; Chaucer’s Wife of Bath rode an ambler. Amblers were slow moving, and they were bred and chosen for their easy-going natures. People who were inexperienced riders always hired amblers for journeys. Jennets were smaller horses for aristocratic ladies. They were probably more Arabian in breeding, since they came out of Spain. In Spain, jennets were used as warhorses.

In towns, few people owned horses. Towns were small, and most people could do their business on foot. Horses were for long journeys and had to be rented. On these journeys, horses ate a special type of bread baked for them, made of beans and peas, along with the ordinary hay. Businessmen who rented horses for a living were called, in medieval English, hackneymen. The daily hire for a horse might equal the day wages of a skilled laborer, so hackneymen were certainly able to make a good living. On routes with high traffic, such as London to Dover, hackney horses were often branded to discourage theft. Chaucer’s Tabard Inn, where his company of pilgrims met to start for Canterbury, was one place to rent horses. These horses made the journey to and from Canterbury repeatedly.

Medieval people raced horses, although, in most times and places, the game was restricted to those who could afford horses: the aristocracy. In Italy, however, the cities organized horse races to celebrate the holidays of their patron saints. By the 14th century, the races, called palios after the traditional prize of a costly palio robe, were well organized and traditional. Boys, sometimes dressed in the livery of the guild that employed them, were the jockeys, and the races were often run in the city square, rather than in a field outside the city.

The game of polo was developed in Central Asia during the Middle Ages. Polo was their war training game, as jousting at tournaments was battle training for Northern European knights. Polo required the horses and riders to be trained to work together and to make quick turns and sudden stops.

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Medieval Horses

Europe already had herds of ponies and small horses when it was part of the Roman Empire. Cold regions had smaller ponies with thicker hair. Cool, wet regions tended to raise horses with larger bones and heavy muscle. Hot, dry regions favored horses with thin, dense bones, light bodies, and short hair.

The average horse in medieval Europe would be considered small today. Horses are measured to the top of a shoulder, called the withers. One hand equals four inches. A typical modern horse is about 15 hands high, while a modern pony is typically between 12 and 13 hands. But most medieval horses were more nearly pony sized. Their “great horse” for war was the size of an average modern horse.

Providing horses for war and civil use was a constant endeavor. A mare can produce no more than one foal per year, and often less. There was growing demand for horses as both warfare and agriculture in Europe came to depend on them. The old methods of keeping a herd of horses to breed undirected were not good enough, and, by the close of the Middle Ages, Europe had many aggressive breeding programs and an international market.

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Medieval Falconry

Falcons and hawks are natural predators of birds and small mammals, but, although fierce, they can be tamed. Both are raptors—birds that kill live prey—and diurnal hunters, not nocturnal like owls. Hawks follow their prey at a low altitude, while falcons swoop down from above. Falcons have a wider wingspan than hawks. Falcons were more often used in medieval hunting, so the sport is generally known as falconry. Falconry was especially popular with ladies, since they were strong enough to ride a horse and hold a small bird. It was the most popular kind of hunting in medieval Spain and Italy, perhaps because game was smaller in these warmer, more settled regions where deer had become scarce.

Female falcons and hawks were always larger and stronger, and better hunters, than males. The largest of the raptors were the Greenland gyrfalcons, which were strong enough to catch water birds like cranes and herons, as well as small animals such as hares. They were heavy and hard to train, and they were relatively scarce. Peregrine falcons were more common; they were native to Africa and Europe and were the most common Spanish falcon. The merlin was a small peregrine hawk used to catch birds up to the size of quail. Some minor falcons are not well-known today. The hobby was a very small falcon, too small to use for useful prey but a good starting bird for beginning falconers. The saker was an Arabian falcon used in Spain, while the lanner was a bird whose range used to be all over Europe but is now restricted to the Mediterranean. Two raptors were true hawks, the goshawk and the sparrow hawk. The goshawk was larger and could catch hares as well as quail and even herons. The female sparrow hawk was a convenient size for many ladies to carry, and it could take down small birds like larks or even partridges.

Most birds were captured in the wild. Young adults were favored, since birds in the nest were easy to tame but did not know how to hunt. Falcons were gentler and easier to train than hawks, and some lords kept a favorite falcon in their chambers. All training followed basic principles that began with blinding the bird, either by covering its eyes with a leather hood or stitching its eyelids closed. The bird became dependent on human contact for food and grew tame. When its sight was restored, it was trained to fly away and return to its home and to sit on a keeper’s leather-gloved fist. It wore jesses—leather collars around its ankles—each with a ring to which a leash could be clipped. In many regions, birds wore tiny bells to help the falconer find them after they had seized prey. They were also trained to seize a lure that was shaped somewhat like a bird, with meat attached, and whirled through the air on a rope. This allowed the falconer to recapture a bird. The birds also had to be trained to go after prey they did not naturally favor. Large prey, such as herons and cranes, required special training to give the falcon or hawk confidence. Most cruelly, some royal trainers used crippled live cranes. In some training, raptors were permitted at first to eat the prey, but they were otherwise strictly trained to think that bits of meat always came from the hand of a human.

Falcons and hawks lived in mews, if they did not live in the trainer’s or lord’s chamber. The mews were kept clean, with sand sprinkled on the floor, so the keepers could tell if the birds were coughing up or excreting materials that indicated illness. The birds sat on perches both in the mews and in the cages (at that time spelled cadges) that transported them. The cages hung over a man’s shoulders on straps and were filled with padded perches. Because falcons were such expensive creatures, their veterinary care was the greatest of all medieval animals, even more than dogs and horses. All falcons and hawks molted once a year, losing all their feathers and growing them back. During this time, their keepers watched their health anxiously, and keepers employed favorite methods for helping the feathers regrow as quickly as possible.

In the hunt, both dogs and human assistants were needed. Spaniels and setters helped locate the birds or hares and could chase them into the air or into the open. Some falconers paid small children to beat the bushes so ground birds or hares would dart out. When the birds killed game across or in water, either the dogs or the beaters were expected to swim out and retrieve it. A well-trained falcon brought its catch back to its master’s feet. The bird was rewarded with meat tidbits, and the hunters cut up the game in an informal curée ritual so the raptor could be rewarded with pieces of its quarry.

Falconry was the main source of game birds such as partridge and quail. In some places, by the 15th century, commoners were catching and training falcons and hawks. Falconers also went to war with kings to provide entertainment and to catch game for dinner between battles. Expert falconers were in demand all over Europe and often found employment in foreign courts.

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