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Homage: Popes and Homage in the Twelfth Century

From the mid-eleventh century onwards, the popes and the Norman rulers of Sicily and southern Italy built an alliance. This alliance involved oath-swearing, paying an annual ‘pension’, investiture (until c.1122) and homage. Older historiography saw the eleventh- and twelfth-century Norman-papal relationship as ‘feudal’: the Normans became vassals of the pope and the pope ultimately owned their land.¹ More recent approaches have emphasized instead that the relationship was contractual, a series of alliances between independent powers.² That is surely correct. However, this shift has not altered the belief that the alliance made use of feudal language or rituals—especially homage—even though such a feudal overlay was a smokescreen.³ Because our interest here is the form of the relationship—the language and ideas—we must focus on this supposed ‘feudal’ element. This chapter, therefore, is about homage.

Homage was, supposedly, the most important outward sign of the feudal relationship between the Normans and the papacy. Homage is—implicitly or explicitly—assumed to be characteristic of feudal relationships. Homage was a ceremony where one person placed their hands into the hands of another, often accompanied by an oath to be faithful and loyal. Throughout the twelfth century, the Norman rulers—from 1130, kings of Sicily—were supposed to perform homage to the popes. Investiture had gone, replaced by coronation, but the Normans still did homage and swore an oath to the pope. Because homage has been so closely associated with ‘feudalism’, the performance of homage has been taken as a key indicator that the kingdom of Sicily was a papal fief.

Homage has, in recent decades, become almost a field of its own.⁴ There are several points which need to be made. First, the Latin words—hominium, homagium, hominaticum—can denote a specific ceremony but do not always do so. For example, when someone said that they received a person ‘into homage’ (in hominium) this might not necessarily mean that the ceremony of homage has been performed; perhaps it was simply synonymous with receiving a person under one’s lordship. The ritual of homage—familiar to all medieval historians—involved one person placing their hands into the hands of another, often while swearing an oath of fidelity. There must have been much variation in how this was actually done in each specific case. Fidelity (fidelitas) and homage often seem to have been used interchangeably, although strictly speaking fidelity must mean an oath and homage the hand-holding ceremony.⁵ Finally, there is the question of what homage signified.

Classical studies of ‘feudalism’ argued that homage was a ritual by which one man became the ‘vassal’ or ‘man’ of another. Thus homage automatically entailed a feudal relationship. Any exceptions to this were dismissed as being ‘late’ or ‘deviant’ or ‘bastardizations’.⁶ More recently, however, the plurality of homage has been emphasized, as ‘a reciprocal act, designed to restore friendship between two parties’.⁷ Homage might be essentially an extra-strong oath of loyalty;⁸ part of a penitential act;⁹ a way of ending a dispute;¹⁰ or a form of warranty—confirming an agreement or treaty.¹¹ Receiving—or giving—homage could be a way for one party to recognize the status of the other, in the case of a new king acceding to the throne.¹² Homage could signify amicitia—friendship—as much as lordship.¹³

It is necessary to examine the homages performed by the Norman rulers of southern Italy not as the outward sign of a permanent legal relationship—vassalage or fiefdom—but as ad hoc rituals needed in politicking between neighbouring powers. Homage was a flexible ritual responding to the needs of the moment.

The performance of homage was mandated in important treaties and grants. In 1130 Pope Anacletus II—one of two rival popes elected in that year—granted Roger II of Sicily the title of king. The new king was supposed to perform homage and fidelity. In 1139, Pope Innocent II—who had, by now, defeated Anacletus—also granted Roger the royal title and, again, stipulated the performance of homage and fidelity. In 1156, Pope Adrian IV and King William I agreed a new modus vivendi—The Treaty of Benevento. Homage was performed. In 1192, Celestine III and King Tancred of Lecce renegotiated the terms of the Treaty of Benevento in the Treaty of Gravina but homage remained present.

If we want to know more than this, we must turn to letters and chronicles. Several papal and royal letters give us important information about when, whether and why the Norman kings did homage to the pope. The chronicles provide even more information since the Italian chroniclers—Falcone of Benevento (d.c.1143), Romuald of Salerno (attrib.; fl.c.1153–81), Alexander of Telese (fl.c.1127–43), Cardinal Boso (d.c.1178)—actually described the homage ceremonies.¹⁴ Caution must be exercised, however. When we have a textual account of a ritual, we do not have access to the ritual itself. What we have is a story written to emphasize particular aspects and present a picture corresponding to the particular requirements of the author.¹⁵ Fortunately, that is what we want. We can examine the chronicle accounts to see what picture the various different authors sought to present. Some emphasized different aspects or suggested different interpretations; some tried to use the submissive nature of homage to conceal points when the Norman rulers were coercing the papacy; some introduced suggestions that the Normans and the papacy saw each other as equals to detract from the submissive nature of homage.

Homage—in the twelfth and later centuries—was often presented as submissive. The person performing homage might be kneeling, for example.¹⁶ The Norman homages to the pope in the twelfth century were no exception: the chroniclers often described these rituals in explicitly submissive phraseology. The points when the Norman rulers performed homage were normally after a new agreement, treaty, or modus vivendi had been reached between the dukes or kings and the pope. Amusingly, however, for most of the twelfth century, when a new agreement was reached, it was the Normans—not the pope—who got the better deal. In one case—when Innocent II confirmed the royal title to King Roger II in 1139—the pope was actually a prisoner of King Roger. One route of analysis is therefore to examine whether elements of submission were used by chroniclers to hide any suggestion that the pope was being coerced. Some chroniclers mixed elements of submission and equality when describing homage. Frequently, for example, chroniclers emphasized the length of the negotiations prior to an agreement: if both sides were able to veto the terms put forward by the other side then clearly—the chroniclers imply—neither side held a superior position to the other. It was the specifics of the ceremony which mattered to the chroniclers, not homage itself.

The earliest contemporary appearance of the word ‘homage’—hominium/homagium—in our sources describing the relationship between the Norman rulers and the papacy comes from 1120. Two letters of Pope Calixtus II described the same event. In late 1120:

After we had been most honourably received in the City, we descended into the parts of Benevento and thence into Apulia and up to Bari. We received the Duke of Apulia, Prince of Capua and other counts and barons into our homage and fidelity (in homigium [sic] et fidelitatem suscepimus). Then, happily returning to the city, we visited St Peter’s, which our faithful men (fideles) had freed from the hands of enemies. We celebrated a solemn mass at the altar of St. Peter, and in the same Church—with the Lord’s aid—we ordained priests, deacons and sub-deacons. Now we remain securely and peacefully in the Lateran palace, through the grace of God.¹⁷

Calixtus had, first, been ‘most honourably received in the City’. Calixtus had already described his reception in Rome a few months earlier in a different letter: he had been received ‘with the highest honour’, escorted to the Lateran palace (and made secure there) and received oaths from the City prefect and the noble families of Rome, Peter Leone, Leo Frangipane, Peter Colonna.¹⁸ Susan Twyman spotted why this claim mattered.¹⁹ In 1120 Calixtus was not the only pope. Maurice Bourdin, Archbishop of Braga, was claiming to be Pope Gregory VIII.²⁰ It was therefore essential for Calixtus to emphasize his own legitimacy in his acts and letters. Calixtus’ successful arrival—adventus—in Rome confirmed that he had been recognized as the lord of Rome by the Roman people. What further proofs of his legitimacy might he offer? Possession of the Lateran palace would be an obvious test of the ‘correctness’ of a pope and, in the letter quoted above, we find that, once the pope returned from receiving the Normans into his homage, he was remaining ‘securely’ in the Lateran palace. It therefore seems likely that all three sentences of this part of Calixtus’ letter—adventus into Rome; taking the Normans into his homage; taking possession of the Lateran—had the same purpose: to show Calixtus’ legitimacy. They were all evidence that Calixtus was the true pope. The two letters which began with this account—to Archbishop Diego of Compostela and Bishop Guido of Chur—both went on to ask the recipients to ‘aid and love’ the Roman Church; Calixtus was presumably asking for support against Bourdin, while confirming to the recipients that they had not made the wrong choice in recognizing Calixtus. It is not inconceivable that versions of this letter were dispatched quite widely, in the hope of proving or confirming to recipients that Calixtus was the true pope. The point of Calixtus’ tour of the south was not that he recognized the Norman rulers—and confirmed their right to rule—but that they recognized him—and confirmed his right to rule. Homage cut both ways. Paul Kehr’s belief that Calixtus was trying to strengthen direct papal control of southern Italy (by taking not just Apulia and Capua but ‘other counts and barons’ into his homage) misses the point. Calixtus’ aim was not so lofty: the pope wanted to maximize the number of local potentates who recognized him.²¹

In 1127 Duke William II of Apulia (the same duke who recognized Calixtus II in 1120) died childless. William’s cousin, Count Roger II of Sicily, therefore claimed the duchy of Apulia. Pope Honorius II (1124–30) opposed Roger’s takeover of Apulia, possibly because he feared that Roger would start encroaching on the papacy’s own territory in central Italy.²²

The two sides—Honorius and his allies and Roger and his Sicilians—met at the river Bradano in Apulia. Alexander of Telese and Falcone of Benevento, both writing fairly close in time to these events, described what followed. There was no battle but, according to Alexander, Count Roger sent embassies to the pope. ‘[B]oth sides remained there for a long time without accomplishing anything.’²³ These negotiations took place publicly between the two forces. Alexander was suggesting that Roger and Honorius were equals because each side felt they could reject the demands of the other. But such equality was just the initial position.

While the negotiations were going on, Alexander of Telese continued, the pope realized that his allies were deserting him because of a lack of funds. Honorius therefore communicated with Roger secretly, ‘promising to grant the duchy to him; however he requested him first to come to Benevento and render his homage to him.’ Roger agreed to this and, shortly after, near Benevento, Roger swore an oath of fidelity to the pope and was ‘handed the ducal government through a banner’ in front of his entire army. There is some tension here between public submission and private victory, but such secret concessions—hidden from public display—were hardly unusual in meetings between rulers (and, one suspects, are still not unusual today).²⁴ Honorius conceded everything Roger wanted—but in secret—and tried to hide his defeat by demanding that Roger submit in public, thus mitigating the pope’s humiliation. But, of course, Alexander of Telese removed even that fig leaf by telling everyone what ‘really happened’ in his panegyrical biography of Roger.

Falcone of Benevento’s account was not very different: ‘many issues’ had needed negotiation and so ‘the whole of the day’ had been spent in argument between Roger and Honorius. But, eventually, ‘in the sight of nearly 20,000 men on the riverbank’, Roger swore an oath to Honorius and received the ducal honour.²⁵ Falcone did not mention Honorius’ secret surrender—although negotiations only began after the pope was abandoned by his allies—but we still see both equality (long negotiation) and public submission. Falcone does add the detail that the oath-swearing took place on the bridge outside Benevento ‘[s]ince the count was reluctant to enter the city’. Roger forced the pope to come to him, or at least met the pope halfway; Roger did not go to the pope. For those willing to see, Falcone was giving another hint here either of Roger’s superiority or at least the two sides’ equality.

Romuald’s chronicle—admittedly rather later than Alexander or Falcone—is fairly terse. Honorius was forced to the negotiating table by the desertion of his allies. Then, ‘envoys were exchanged and they [Honorius and Roger] came to an agreement by which Roger did liege homage and swore an oath to him, and was invested by him [the pope] with the duchy of Apulia, through a banner, on the bridge over the Sabato’.²⁶ Romuald did not emphasize the length of the negotiation, or that a large number of people witnessed Roger’s submission. The Chronicle of Montecassino—a probably contemporary account—laconically stated ‘[t]he pope marched with an army against him [Roger], but finally they came to an agreement and he confirmed the duchy to him.’²⁷ Not a hint of any submissive ritual.

We have an interesting mix of accounts. What we do not have is a uniform account of a ritual of lordship. Falcone and Alexander both tell us that the pope asked for Roger’s public submission to hide the pope’s own weak position and surrender. Ritualized submission hid an imbalance of power, although Alexander sought to show that Roger had really been in the driving seat. Falcone also dropped sufficient clues that, at worst, both sides were on an equal footing.

Two years after Roger’s seizure of Apulia, Honorius II died. His death was followed by the papal schism of 1130–9: two popes were elected—Anacletus II and Innocent II. Anacletus was able to take control of Rome; Innocent, however, got the recognition of the rest of the world.²⁸ Or rather, most of the world. The king of Scotland, the duke of Aquitaine and Roger of Sicily and Apulia sided with Anacletus. In return, Anacletus, in a privilege, ‘conceded, granted and authorized’ the title of king, rulership of ‘the kingdom of Sicily, Calabria and Apulia’, and the right to be crowned and anointed into kingship (by an archbishop of his choosing) to Roger.²⁹ The privilege stipulated that Roger and his successors had to perform homage and fidelity to the pope and pay an annual census of 600 gold coins.³⁰ Unfortunately for Roger, Anacletus and his successor (Victor IV) lost the schism. The accounts of Roger’s elevation to kingship in 1130—Falcone, Telese, Romuald of Salerno—consequently offered different interpretations of Anacletus’ grant. Romuald and Telese both wrote Anacletus out of the story, although Telese made sure that Roger’s kingship was approved by SS Peter and Paul instead. Again we can see that the accounts were carefully manipulated by the authors to present the picture they needed.³¹

By 1139, Innocent II had been accepted as pope and so Roger now needed to come to terms with him after backing the wrong side. Alexander of Telese had stopped writing by 1139, but Falcone and Romuald’s chronicles have accounts of Roger’s negotiations with Innocent II. According to Falcone, the prospects for peace initially seemed promising.³² Innocent received Roger’s envoys and sent two cardinals in return. The cardinals invited Roger to meet the pope at San Germano. San Germano—the location of the abbey of Montecassino—was on the border between the kingdom of Sicily and the central Italian domains governed by the pope. The choice of a border area—midway between each side—is notable. Roger came to San Germano but eight days of negotiation foundered on Roger’s refusal to give up the principality of Capua (conceded to him by Anacletus in 1130). Presumably to cow Innocent, Roger launched a punitive attack on several nearby fortresses. Innocent responded in kind, laying siege to Gallucio, a neighbouring fortification. Roger, however, came upon the papal army, scattered them and captured Innocent and the senior cardinals. Innocent was held ‘as a captive, loaded with insults’. Then Roger ‘at once sent envoys to Pope Innocent (whom he was holding captive) begging him more humbly than one would have thought possible to grant him the hand of peace and concord’. The pope agreed (as if he could have done otherwise) and ‘the king, and his sons the duke and prince came into the pope’s presence, flung themselves at his feet and begged for mercy, and bowed to his authority.’ They all swore fidelity to the pope. The people of Benevento were then apparently ‘seized with joy’ that ‘the king was now obedient to the pope’s will.’

In practice what happened was that Innocent agreed to all Roger’s requests, and granted Roger essentially the same things that Anacletus had granted Roger in 1130: the title of king, government of the ‘kingdom of Sicily, of the duchy of Apulia and the principality of Capua’, and the right to be crowned and anointed. In return, the pope should receive homage and fidelity and 600 gold coins annually (although the homage could be remitted and it was envisaged that circumstances might prevent the census being paid).³³

One interpretation of Falcone’s account would be that the obvious humiliation Innocent suffered, and his coerced concessions to Roger, were being ameliorated by Roger’s submission and humility. Falcone was, on the surface, trying to save papal face. But considering that Falcone (twice) reminds us that Innocent was Roger’s captive, and considering the ludicrous claim that ‘the king was now obedient to the pope’s will’, one wonders if Falcone was actually intending to reveal how implausible Roger’s submission was. How could anyone take the king’s submission seriously when Falcone reminded the reader that the pope was Roger’s prisoner at this time? Rather than trying to hide the pope’s humiliation, Falcone might have been emphasizing it, by suggesting that Roger’s public submission was unbelievable. If that is what Falcone was doing, then it explains why Cardinal Boso—in his Vita of Pope Innocent II—adopted a different approach: Boso did not mention the events of 1139 at all. He mentioned the expedition launched by Emperor Lothar II against Roger in 1137 (not a long-term success) but not Innocent’s defeat in 1139.³⁴ Boso realized that no amount of homage and humility was going to disguise Innocent’s total defeat.

Romuald’s chronicle—a source from the later twelfth century—recounted Innocent’s defeat and capture, and that ‘[t]he king […] wished to approach the pope’s feet in a sufficiently humble manner.’³⁵ Interestingly though, Romuald now threw in the detail that Innocent ‘at first refused to receive him’. Considering that Innocent was a prisoner and guarded by Roger’s soldiers one might ask how precisely Innocent was able to refuse to see Roger, but that is not the point. The point is that this addition returned a small degree of agency to Innocent. Eventually Innocent ‘received oath and homage from him [Roger] […] at length, after envoys had scurried between them negotiating a peace treaty’. This was a better solution than Falcone’s (if Falcone actually intended to lessen Innocent’s humiliation). The author of this part of Romuald’s chronicle did not try to suggest that Roger was submissive. Roger wanted to approach Innocent satis humiliater—‘in a sufficiently humble manner’ (a phrase open to interpretation)—but there was no other suggestion of humility or submission. Instead, Romuald gave Innocent the power to refuse to see Roger and to negotiate ‘at length’ (tandem).³⁶ If Romuald was trying to hide Innocent’s humiliation, he did a better job than Falcone. Suggesting that Roger submitted to Innocent was implausible; suggesting that Innocent still had some cards to play was conceivable. Already it should be hard to see the Norman-papal homages simply as ‘feudal rituals’. The contemporary chroniclers could all take different approaches—Cardinal Boso did not even mention Roger’s homage in 1139—and homage was instrumental, dependent on the needs of the moment.

Despite (or perhaps because of) the one-sided agreements of 1128 and 1139, the relationship between the papacy and the Norman kingdom continued to be frosty. In 1144–5 (when Lucius II was pope) and in 1150 (when Eugenius III was pope) there were periods of détente. Romuald described the negotiations of 1144–5, as did the Chronicle of Santa Maria di Ferraria. This latter source might well be based on lost sections of Falcone, potentially making it contemporary with the events it describes.³⁷ Romuald does not tell us much. Celestine II (Lucius’ predecessor) cast doubt on Innocent’s 1139 grant of kingship to Roger and refused to confirm it. When he was succeeded by Lucius II, Roger rejoiced because Lucius was the king’s compater et amicus, and met the new pope at Ceprano. Ceprano was another town between Roger’s territory and papal territory—indeed, the river Ceprano was used, in the mid-twelfth century, as the border between the two.³⁸ ‘They negotiated about peace between them for a long time, but were unable to come to an agreement because of the opposition of the cardinals.’³⁹ There was no suggestion of homage or submission here but, on the other hand, Roger did not get anything from Lucius. No ceremonial submission was needed.

The Chronicle of Ferraria told a similar story. Roger wanted Celestine II to confirm the 1139 grant but Celestine would not. Roger then started harassing the papal enclave of Benevento, intending ‘to give him [Celestine] no alternative’. Celestine sent an embassy to Roger but then died. Roger sent ambassadors to the new pope, Lucius II, with a request to meet. When they met at Ceprano, Roger and his sons ‘prostrated (prosterno) [themselves] on the ground and kissed the pope’s feet’ (pedes […] deobsculantur). They then then received the kiss on the mouth (in oris osculo) and proclaimed themselves to be the pope’s servants (famulos). Unfortunately the actual negotiations came to nothing since Lucius wanted Roger to give up Capua. Roger kept control of Capua but Lucius would not confirm Innocent II’s 1139 grant.⁴⁰ The story here is broadly the same as Romuald’s. The novel addition is that Roger hoped that his prostration would help to persuade Lucius to confirm the grant of the kingdom. Even here the emphasis was not only on submission: Roger gave both the osculum pedum—the kiss on the feet—and the osculum oris or pacis—the kiss on the mouth or the kiss of peace. According to thirteenth-century papal ceremonial books, the kiss on the feet showed, obviously, the pope’s superiority. When the pope gave the kiss on the mouth, however, ‘showing his humility, he demonstrates himself to be one with us’.⁴¹ Elements of equality and submission thus mixed.⁴² Roger was not said to have performed homage or sworn an oath, probably because the pope was unwilling to confirm his royal title. Since Lucius was not Roger’s prisoner—as Innocent had been in 1139—he was free to reject Roger’s demands.

Our source for negotiations between Eugenius III and Roger in 1150 is John of Salisbury. John’s Historia pontificalis (Memoirs of the Papal Court, as its editor and translator put it) covers four years (1148–52) when John was at the curia. In 1150, Eugenius headed for Ceprano—‘in the boundaries between their lands’—to treat with Roger. Roger ‘coming to his [Eugenius’] feet’ granted free elections to all Churches and allowed the pope to inspect any elections already made. Then Roger ‘requested that the pope receive his homage (hominium) and renew his privileges, but he could not achieve this either by prayer or gift’. However, peace was made between the pope and king, they parted as friends (amici) and Eugenius did consecrate most of the unconsecrated Sicilian bishops (whom the popes had been inconsistently neglecting for some years).⁴³

John of Salisbury stated something which had previously only been implied: Roger wanted the pope to accept his homage because it would confirm that Eugenius accepted the legality of Innocent’s 1139 grant. That grant had stipulated that the king and his heirs should do homage to the pope and so, if the pope accepted Roger’s homage, he accepted Roger’s kingship. The explicit link between ‘receiving homage’ and ‘renewing his privileges’ makes this clear. Innocent’s grant—Quos dispensatio—was a privilege. Eugenius, on the other hand, did not want Roger to do homage to him. The pope wanted to preserve his freedom of action. Homage would have been the outward sign of an agreement between papacy and monarchy; a restoration of permanent peace. Again, homage was not a ‘feudal’ ritual which the pope sought; it was a sign of amity desired by Roger II.

The consequence of Eugenius’ refusal to confirm the privilege of kingship can be seen in the first letter sent from the new pope, Adrian IV, to the new king, William I, in 1154. According to Romuald’s chronicle, Adrian’s letters were addressed—to William’s chagrin—to ‘William, lord of Sicily’ rather than ‘William, king of Sicily’.⁴⁴ If Romuald’s story is accurate, then there are three possible explanations: 1) that Adrian was calling into question whether the Sicilian rulers were kings at all; 2) that Adrian was calling into question the validity of William’s coronation; 3) that Romuald made this story up because the author of this section of the chronicle wanted to call William’s coronation into question.

As we have seen, Celestine II, Lucius II, and Eugenius III all refused to confirm the 1139 grant of kingship. Logically, to Adrian IV, the Sicilian royal house would therefore not be kings at all. Note, however, that Adrian was not calling into question William’s possession and right to rule Sicily; William was still ‘lord’. The implication is that, while William needed the pope’s approval for his kingship, no one saw the pope’s approval as being essential to the basic reality of William’s rule over the land. The land was not a papal ‘fief’, granted to William under revocable conditions.

The second and third options—that either Adrian or Romuald were specifically denying the validity of William’s coronation—are suggested by the particular title: ‘lord of Sicily’ (dominus Sicilie). In twelfth-century Norman England, ‘lord of England’ (dominus Anglie) was the title borne by the king prior to his coronation (or queen prior to her coronation).⁴⁵ Thus ‘lord of Sicily’ might refer to an as yet uncrowned king. Adrian might have had doubts about William’s coronation. According to John of Salisbury, William had been crowned in 1151—in his father’s lifetime—‘without consulting the pope’. ‘The pope took it ill but oppressed by the evils of the time could offer no resistance’.⁴⁶ It is also possible that it was the author of the chronicle—rather than the pope—who wished to sow doubts about the coronation: William I had been crowned by the archbishop of Palermo. The privilege granting the royal title to Roger II had allowed his heirs to be crowned and anointed by an archbishop of their choice. Romuald’s chronicle was written by clerics in the following of Romuald Guarna, archbishop of Salerno. When William I’s son, William II, was crowned and anointed in 1166, the ceremony was led by Archbishop Romuald of Salerno (as Romuald’s chronicle itself tells us).⁴⁷ Romuald might have been trying to suggest that Salerno—not Palermo—was the more legitimate officiant for Sicilian coronation ceremonies, hence William I’s coronation was not valid.

Whatever the truth behind the letter of 1154, the following two years saw renewed conflict between the pope and the Sicilian king, leading to a new, long-term agreement. The 1156 Treaty of Benevento has often been seen as a new dawn for papal–Norman relations; after that date the relationship between the two was fairly good for the rest of the century.⁴⁸ Admittedly, for the entire period 1159–78, there was a papal schism during which the Norman kings were the main supporters of Pope Alexander III. It is therefore perhaps unsurprising that Alexander took care to keep Kings William I and William II onside.⁴⁹ Once Alexander won the schism in 1177–8, the memory of the Norman monarchy’s aid certainly kept them in the papacy’s good books. Irrespective of the reason, however, the Treaty of Benevento was the agreement which structured the papal–Norman alliance for the next forty years. A considerable amount of ink has been spilt on the run-up to 1156 but this need not detain us.⁵⁰ Concisely: in 1155 the German emperor Frederick I had made no effort to move against the new king of Sicily, William I, and a joint expedition by Norman rebels and the Byzantine Empire had failed to achieve anything. While this conflict—between William I, internal rebels, and the Byzantines—had been raging, William had approached Pope Adrian IV and asked the pope to receive his homage and fidelity, according to the Vita of Adrian IV written by Cardinal Boso. Adrian—apparently—wanted to accept this offer but his cardinals were opposed.⁵¹ This is probably an ex post facto justification since, the next year, William, having defeated the Byzantines, trapped Pope Adrian IV at Benevento and forced him to terms. The terms of the treaty were mainly not in papal interests. As in 1128 and 1139, the Norman king was able to extort favourable terms when he held clear military superiority. The Treaty of Benevento dealt with the problem of episcopal consecration; it confirmed William’s right to veto appeals to Rome and refuse legatine access to insular Sicily. Most importantly, it confirmed William’s kingship. In return William did homage and fidelity to the pope. His heirs would also swear fidelity and the kingdom would pay an annual census of 1,000 gold coins.⁵²

We have two chronicle accounts of the negotiations at Benevento: Boso’s Vita of Adrian IV, and Romuald. For context, before his account of Benevento, Boso explained that William defeated the Greeks and Apulian rebels ‘whence it came to pass that such fear and trembling suddenly entered all Apulia and its borders that henceforth no one dared to resist him [William], but all fled from his face and the most powerful fortresses and cities returned to his lordship without battle or coercion.’ William then came with his army to Benevento. Adrian sent several cardinals to meet him and ‘after some disagreement on both sides about some clauses (post mutuam diversorum altercationem capitulorum) the king came to an agreement with the pope.’ The king and pope then met in the church of San Marciano ‘near Benevento’ (again the place for the meeting was between the two camps) and the king ‘humbly prostrated himself (humiliter se prostravit) at the feet of the pope and performed liege homage (ligium hominium) and fidelity in the presence of a large number of bishops, cardinals, counts […]’ and so on. Once William had sworn fidelity he received the kiss of peace and distributed gifts of gold, silver, and cloth.⁵³ There is quite a lot to unpack here: William prostrated himself at the pope’s feet and performed homage in public. On the other hand, the length of the negotiation, the location between the city and the king’s army and the kiss of peace all suggest equality. The gifts can be interpreted either way, as tribute from a subject to his master or as benevolent gifts. Finally, the passage began with a description of William’s total victory over his enemies and his power in Apulia. The somewhat scattergun approach might reflect Boso’s concern to remove any suggestion that William was coercing Adrian, hence the indications both that William submitted to Adrian and that the two sides were equal.

Romuald’s account is fairly similar. As Boso did, Romuald gave a detailed account of William’s re-conquest of Apulia—including hanging or blinding of enemies and razing cities to their foundations—then moved on to William’s arrival at Benevento: ‘he [William] came to an agreement with the pope, after many envoys had scurried between them and the terms of the peace treaty had been negotiated back and forth.’ At the church of San Marciano, near the river Calore, the pope ‘kindly received him [William], [who was] humbly coming to his [the pope’s] feet’. William ‘having taken the oath, became the liegeman (liggius homo) of the pope, and the pope invested (investivit) him with the kingdom of Sicily through one banner, through another with the duchy of Apulia’, and so on.⁵⁴ As I have already said in chapter one, we might be suspicious of Romuald’s claim that papal investiture continued until 1156, since there was no mention of it in the privileges of 1130 and 1139, nor in the Treaty of Benevento itself. Like Boso, Romuald recounted the king’s humble submission while throwing in a few indications that both sides were equal negotiators, and all within the general context of William’s superior military power.

At the halfway point of the twelfth century—1156—we can stop and survey the variety of homage, this supposedly fixed ritual. Calixtus II had received the Norman rulers into his homage in 1120 to confirm his own position; Roger had sought to perform homage in 1150 to show that Eugenius III accepted the legality of his kingship. William I wanted the same thing from Adrian IV in 1155 and 1156. The Italian chroniclers claimed that Roger performed homage or submitted to the pope in 1128 and 1139 to disguise (or accentuate) Roger’s actual superiority and the obvious coercion which was at work. In the preamble to the Treaty of Benevento William I had said ‘it has always been our custom to show ourselves humble at heart at moments of triumph and greatest success.’⁵⁵ That sentiment certainly seems true when considering William and Roger II’s relationship with the papacy; the kings were very willing to perform homage or humble themselves before the pope while dictating terms (or so the chroniclers tell us). Homage fulfilled a variety of functions—confirming who was king, confirming who was pope, showing amity, hiding where the real power was—none of which can be boiled down to an ‘entry into vassalage’.

Between 1156 and 1188 the Norman kings did not swear an oath or do homage to the pope. William I and William II were amongst the most important supporters of Pope Alexander III during the schism, but they did not perform homage or fidelity.⁵⁶ Probably early in 1188 William II swore fidelity to Pope Clement III, thus reconfirming the Treaty of Benevento (‘saving the concord made between Pope Adrian and King William and henceforth affirmed by writing’).⁵⁷ At this time, William’s aunt Constance had recently married Henry VI of Germany.⁵⁸ William’s oath was very similar to that of the eleventh-century Norman dukes. This oath—or rather one of Clement’s letters about it—apparently caused some discussion in the king’s court. Clement had to write again to William, in July 1188, replying to a question which the pope’s previous letter had raised in William’s mind: ‘do each of [William’s] heirs have to offer an oath of homage and of fidelity (fidelitatis […] et hominii iuramentum) to each of [Clement’s] successors?’ Clement told William that each king of Sicily only had to swear fidelity once, not to each new pope. Clement also noted that homage (hominium) might be ‘relaxed to any of them, as [it was] to your person, by beneficence of the Apostolic See’.⁵⁹

The letter suggested some confusion as to the difference between homage and fidelity (e.g. ‘an oath of homage and of fidelity’).⁶⁰ There also appeared to be two, slightly different, issues: first, does each king have to swear fidelity to each new pope? Clement decided not. Secondly, do the kings have to perform homage? Although Clement claimed he had ‘relaxed’ the requirement to perform homage, this was not entirely right. There was no requirement to do homage. The 1156 Treaty of Benevento had stated that ‘[f]or all these [the kingdom] we [William I] have sworn fidelity to you [Adrian IV] and your successors and the Holy Roman Church and done liege homage (ligium hominium) to you.’ But also that ‘[y]ou will concede all the aforesaid (which you have conceded to us [William]) to our heirs (whom we shall choose of our free will) as you did to us, and they shall willingly make fidelity (fidelitatem facere) to you and your successors and the Roman Church (as we did) and observe that written above.’⁶¹ William I did homage to Adrian in 1156, but there was no commitment for his successors also to perform homage. They only had to make fidelity.

William’s homage to Adrian in 1156 was symbolic of the ending of enmity between pope and king and proved that each recognized the status of the other. It implied nothing about the constitutional position of the kingdom vis-à-vis the papacy. It certainly did not mean that all future kings had to become vassals of the pope through homage, because neither side envisaged homage automatically being repeated in the future. The bond between the pope and king was an oath of fidelity, akin to that sworn by archbishops, papal office holders, and the eleventh-century Norman dukes. While Clement might have thought he had ‘relaxed’ the requirement for homage—perhaps a further indication of his confusion as to what the difference was—in fact there was no such requirement.

William II died a year later in 1189. The succession was disputed. Henry VI of Germany claimed the crown in right of his wife Constance, daughter of Roger II, half-sister of William I and aunt of William II. Within the kingdom, Constance and Henry were opposed by Tancred of Lecce, an illegitimate grandson of Roger II. Tancred was able to establish himself as king within the kingdom—he was crowned in 1190—and sought papal recognition.⁶² Tancred weathered a German invasion in 1191 and even captured Queen Constance. The new pope, Celestine III, ordered her to be released. Following her release, Tancred and Celestine began negotiations. In June 1192, Tancred and the papal representatives agreed the Treaty of Gravina, which replaced the 1156 Treaty of Benevento. This treaty redressed some of the advantages kept by the Sicilian kings in 1156—from 1192 legates could be sent to insular Sicily every five years, and appeals were allowed from the entire kingdom—but the clauses about homage and fidelity stayed nearly identical:

For all this we have sworn fidelity to you and your successors and the Holy Roman Church and made liege homage (ligium hominium) to you […] You will concede all the aforesaid (which you have conceded to us) to our heirs (who will succeed us in the kingdom) as you did to us, and they shall willingly make fidelity (fidelitatem facere) to you and your successors and the Roman Church (as we did) and observe that written above’.⁶³

Tancred had done homage—at the moment of a new alliance between the Norman monarchs and the papacy—but his heirs did not have to, necessarily. Even this, however, was inaccurate. Pope Celestine III had not been present at Gravina and so Tancred had not done homage to him. The perfect tense was used in the Treaty because the clause was inserted verbatim from the Treaty of Benevento. Alongside the text of the Treaty, Tancred sent a letter to Celestine:

We make known through this letter that because the pre-eminence of your holiness is not able to come to parts of our kingdom for the receipt of homage from us according to the customs of our progenitors […] the venerable cardinals Albinus and Gregory […] sent to our highness, came to Alba for the receipt of the oath of fidelity from us […]. We promise that at whatever time you or your successors should signify to us or our heirs, in whatever part of our kingdom which lies under our power, [we will approach and perform homage].⁶⁴

Apparently Celestine could not be bothered to go and receive Tancred’s homage, while Tancred seems to have been quite keen to do homage. The king had to be content with swearing fidelity, in much the same manner as William II had sworn.⁶⁵ Again, we see that the performance and receipt of homage would have bound both parties into the new agreement and meant that each recognized the other; obviously Tancred desperately wanted the pope to recognize him as king. The pope—suspecting another German invasion—might have been less keen to tie himself publicly to Tancred.

The homages of the second half of the twelfth century—1156 and (almost) 1192—show that homage was an outward sign of a new agreement between the Norman king and the pope, and a public recognition of status. Homage was not necessarily mandatory for new kings. Swearing an oath of fidelity was, but not homage. Hence homage was not necessary to the relationship—the king was not becoming a vassal of the pope. Homage was necessary for a treaty, however, to show a new peace had been agreed by both sides.

One might well suspect that the Norman rulers’ willingness to humble themselves before the pope stemmed from the pope’s general superior status, rather than some kind of ‘feudal’ hierarchy. The pope was above the king and so it was appropriate for the Norman king to humble himself. Other twelfth-century kings—Henry I of England, Henry II of England, Louis VII of France—humbled themselves before the pope.⁶⁶ During the negotiations to end the 1159–77 conflict between Emperor Frederick I and the antipope (on one side), and Pope Alexander III, the king of Sicily, and the Lombard cities (on the other), Frederick had to humble himself before Pope Alexander (pope being higher than emperor). The Lombard representatives, however, had to submit themselves to the emperor (emperor being higher than civic rector). Our chronicle accounts for these peace negotiations—mainly Boso and Romuald—speak of the Lombard rectors on their knees before Frederick.⁶⁷ The emperor, when concord was restored with the pope, ‘prostrated (prosterno) himself on the ground’ or ‘fell entirely at the feet of the pope with his body outstretched (extenso corpore)’.⁶⁸ These accounts are very similar to those found for the Norman kings. Roger II in 1144 and William I in 1156 were described as ‘prostrate’ (prosterno) before the pope (but not explicitly ‘outstretched’, presumably meaning flat on the floor). Clearly, when conflict ended, it was important that status differences be preserved in symbolic communication (even when such formal differences in status did not reflect who had the upper hand). Provocatively, one might suggest that the historiographical assumption that the homages and submissions from Norman rulers to popes indicated a continuous relationship of ‘vassalage’ is mainly down to the fact that the Norman kings personally met the pope far more frequently than, say, the kings of England, France, or Aragon did.

Conclusion

Homage was, for the popes, the Norman kings and the chroniclers who wrote about it, a flexible ritual, one that altered to the literary and political demands of the time. Calixtus II wanted to receive homage in 1120 to show how many people accepted his papacy. Roger II, William I, and Tancred wanted to perform homage in 1150, 1156, and 1192 to show that the papacy recognized their royal status. Contrary to traditional ideas of feudo-vassalic relations, it does not seem that homage was necessarily mandatory or expected. Homage was done to the pope numerous times between 1120 and 1156, but it was not always stipulated for the future. In Sicily—and in England, Melgueil, Corsica, and Sardinia—the thirteenth century saw a greater codification of the relationship between pope and king. Duties were written down; feudal contracts were drawn up. The kings of Sicily only became vassal-kings of the pope in the thirteenth century. In the twelfth century the Sicilian kings and the popes had to deal with each other frequently—they were the two most powerful people in central and southern Italy—but they did not develop a continuous relationship which can reasonably be called ‘vassalage’.

Twelfth-century Sicily was not described as a ‘fief’ (feudum) of the pope, nor were the kings called papal ‘vassals’ (vassalli).⁶⁹ As Susan Reynolds pointed out, the papacy made use of the term feudum in, for example, January 1157 when two cardinals granted lands in Lazio (central Italy) to Oddo di Poli ‘in fief’ (in feodo).⁷⁰ Famously, of course, in 1157 Adrian IV managed to offend the Emperor Frederick I by describing the Empire as a beneficium conferred by the pope. Adrian then had to clarify hastily that a beneficium was a ‘good deed’ (bonum factum) not a fief (feudum).⁷¹ Adrian knew the word ‘fief’ had connotations of subordination and no twelfth-century pope called the kingdom of Sicily a fief. Alexander III did, in 1163, claim that the kingdom belonged especially to the ‘right and property of St Peter’ (ad ius et proprietatem beati Petri specialiter spectat) but, as we have seen in chapter one, this did not imply any relationship other than immediacy: being directly under the pope.⁷² One can more easily point to moments when the popes and kings were each other’s ‘friends’ (amici) or even ‘compadres’ (compatres), than to moments when the kings were papal subjects.⁷³ Neither homage, nor other language used in the twelfth century, suggests that the popes saw themselves as the real owners of the Norman kingdom. There is no trace of the traditional feudal interpretation here. Homage was not the outward sign of vassalage but a flexible ritual which changed to meet the demands of the moment.

Papal Overlordship and European Princes, 1000–1270. Benedict Wiedemann, Oxford University Press. © Benedict Wiedemann 2022. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780192855039.003.0003

¹ For an overview, see Stroll, Calixtus II, p. 316; Robinson, The Papacy, pp. 367–397.

² Especially Graham Loud: Latin Church, p. 141; idem, Age of Robert Guiscard, pp. 190, 226; idem, Church and Society in the Norman Principality of Capua (Oxford University Press: Oxford, 1985), pp. 58–65; idem, Creation, p. 15; Vincenzo D’Alessandro, ‘Fidelitas Normannorum. Note sulla fondazione dello stato normanno e sui rapporti con papato’, Storiografia e politica nell’Italia normanna (Liguori: Naples, 1978), pp. 99–220; Thomas Bisson, The Crisis of the Twelfth Century: Power, Lordship, and the Origins of European Government (Princeton University Press: Oxford, 2009), p. 92.

³ Carocci, Vassalli del papa, p. 49; Duggan, ‘Alexander ille meus’, p. 43.

⁴ Reynolds, Fiefs and Vassals, pp. 213–214; Paul Hyams, ‘Homage and Feudalism: A Judicious Separation’, Die Gegenwart des Feudalismus, ed. Natalie Fryde, Pierre Monnet, Otto-Gerhard Oexle (Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht: Göttingen, 2002), pp. 13–50; Hyams, ‘Faith, fealty and Jewish infideles in Twelfth Century England’, Christians and Jews in Angevin England: The York Massacre of 1190, Narratives and Contexts, ed. Sarah Rees-Jones, Sethina Watson (Boydell and Brewer: Woodbridge, 2013), pp. 125–147; West, Feudal Revolution, pp. 206–213; Jürgen Dendorfer, ‘Das Wormser Konkordat: Ein Schritt auf dem Weg zur Feudalisierung der Reichsverfassung?’, Das Lehnswesen im Mittelalter. Forschungskonstrukte—Quellenbefunde—Deutungsrelevanz, ed. Jürgen Dendorfer, Roman Deutinger (Thorbecke: Ostfildern, 2010), pp. 299–328; Klaus van Eickels, Vom inszenierten Konsens zum systematisierten Konflikt: die englisch-französischen Beziehungen und ihre Wahrnehmung an der Wende vom Hoch- zum Spätmittelalter (Thorbecke: Stuttgart, 2002); idem, ‘Homagium and Amicitia: Rituals of Peace and their Significance in the Anglo-French Negotiations of the Twelfth Century’, Francia 24 (1998), pp. 133–140; idem, ‘L’hommage des rois anglais et de leurs héritiers aux rois français au XII^e siècle: subordination imposée ou reconnaissance souhaitée?’, Plantagenêts et Capétians: confrontations et héritages, ed. Martin Aurell, N.-Y. Tonnerre (Brepols: Turnhout, 2006), pp. 377–385; van Eickels, ‘Gleichrangigkeit in der Unterordnung. Lehensabhängigkeit und die Sprache der Freundschaft in den englisch-französischen Beziehungen des 12. Jahrhunderts’, Der Weg in eine weitere Welt: Kommunikation und ‘Außenpolitik’ im 12. Jahrhundert, ed. Hanna Vollrath (LIT: Berlin, 2008), pp. 13–34; John Burrow, Gestures and Looks in Medieval Narrative (Cambridge University Press: Cambridge, 2002), pp. 11–38; Alice Taylor, ‘Homage in the Latin Chronicles of Eleventh- and Twelfth-Century Normandy’, Peoples, Texts and Artefacts: Cultural Transmission in the Norman Worlds of the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries, ed. David Bates, Elisabeth van Houts, Edoardo D’Angelo (Institute of Historical Research: London, 2017), pp. 231–252; Taylor, ‘The Scottish Clause in Magna Carta in Context: Homage, Overlordship and the Consequences of Peace in the Early Thirteenth Century’, Magna Carta: New Interpretations, ed. Nicholas Vincent, Sophie Ambler (forthcoming); Levi Roach, ‘Submission and Homage: Feudo-Vassalic Bonds and the Settlement of Disputes in Ottonian Germany’, History 97 (2012), pp. 355–379; Jenny Benham, Peacemaking in the Middle Ages: Principles and Practice (Manchester University Press: Manchester, 2011), pp. 90–106; Björn Weiler, ‘Knighting, Homage, and the Meaning of Ritual: The Kings of England and their Neighbors in the Thirteenth Century’, Viator 37 (2006), 275–299; Benedict Wiedemann, ‘The Kingdom of Portugal, Homage and Papal “Fiefdom” in the Second Half of the Twelfth Century’, Journal of Medieval History 41 (2015), pp. 432–445; idem, ‘Papal Authority and Power during the Minority of Emperor Frederick II’, p. 69; Jerry Root, The Theophilus Legend in Medieval Text and Image (D. S. Brewer: Cambridge, 2017), pp. 13–61.

⁵ Cf. Magnus Ryan, ‘The Oath of Fealty and the Lawyers’, Political Thought and the Realities of Power in the Middle Ages, ed. Joseph Canning, Otto-Gerhard Oexle (Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht: Göttingen, 1998), pp. 211–228.

⁶ François-Louis Ganshof, Feudalism, trans. Philip Grierson, 3rd edn. (Harper: New York, 1964 [1952]), p. 74; Marc Bloch, Feudal Society, trans. L. A. Manyon 2 vols., reprinted in 1 vol. (Routledge: Abingdon, 2014 [1962]), p. 171 12n; Hilda Grassotti, ‘Homenaje de García Ramírez a Alfonso VII: dos documentos inéditos’, Príncipe de Viana 25 (1964), pp. 57–66.

⁷ Taylor, ‘Homage in Latin Chronicles’, p. 232.

⁸ Dendorfer, ‘Das Wormser Konkordat’, pp. 326–328.

⁹ Damian Smith, ‘The Reconciliation of Guillem-Ramon de Montcada, the Albigensian Crusade and Fourth Lateran’, The Fourth Lateran Council and the Crusade Movement: The Impact of the Council of 1215 on Latin Christendom and the East, ed. idem, Jessalynn Bird (Brepols: Turnhout, 2018), pp. 131–150, at 145.

¹⁰ Hyams, ‘Homage and Feudalism’, pp. 26–34.

¹¹ Wiedemann, ‘Kingdom of Portugal’, pp. 438–440.

¹² Dendorfer, ‘Das Wormser Konkordat’, pp. 316–320.

¹³ Van Eickels, ‘Homagium and Amicitia’.

¹⁴ Falcone: Loud, Creation, pp. 55–58; Falcone, Chronicon Beneventanum, ed. D’Angelo; Romuald: Loud, Creation, pp. 58–60; Romoaldi Annales, ed. Arndt, pp. 387–461; Telese: Loud, Creation, pp. 52–55; Telese, Storia di Ruggero, trans. Matarazzo; Boso: Le Liber pontificalis: Texte, introduction et commentaire, ed. Louis Duchesne, 2 vols. (Thorin: Paris, 1886–92), p. ii.

¹⁵ Philippe Buc, The Dangers of Ritual: Between Early Medieval Texts and Social Scientific Theory (Princeton University Press: Princeton, 2001); Geoffrey Koziol, ‘The Dangers of Polemic: is Ritual still an Interesting Topic of Study?’, Early Medieval Europe 11 (2002), pp. 367–388; Timothy Reuter, ‘Velle sibi fieri in hac forma: Symbolic Acts in the Becket Dispute’, idem, Medieval Polities and Modern Mentalities, ed. Janet L. Nelson (Cambridge University Press: Cambridge, 2006), pp. 167–190.

¹⁶ John Gillingham, ‘Doing Homage to the King of France’, Henry II: New Interpretations, ed. Christopher Harper-Bill, Nicholas Vincent (Boydell and Brewer: Woodbridge, 2007), pp. 63–84, at 83 1n; Thomas N. Bisson, ‘Medieval Lordship’, Speculum 70 (1995), pp. 743–759, at 748. Cf. Adam J. Kosto, ‘The Liber feudorum maior of the Counts of Barcelona: The Cartulary as an Expression of Power’, Journal of Medieval History 27 (2001), pp. 1–22, at 18–19.

¹⁷ Bullaire du pape Calixte II, 1119–1124, ed. Ulysse Robert, 2 vols. (Picard: Paris, 1891), i: 1119–1122, no. 201, pp. 296–297; the other letter is Bullaire du Calixte, i, no. 217, p. 319. The same event—with the addition of several named ‘counts and barons’—was described in the Vita of Calixtus, Liber Pontificalis, ii, p. 322.

¹⁸ Bullaire du Calixte, i, no. 176, pp. 261–262.

¹⁹ Susan Twyman, Papal Ceremonial at Rome in the Twelfth Century (Boydell and Brewer: Woodbridge, 2002), pp. 143–144; eadem, ‘Papal Adventus at Rome in the Twelfth Century’, Historical Research 69 (1996), pp. 233–253, at 240–242.

²⁰ Francesco Renzi, ‘Imperator Burdinum Hispanum Romanae sedi violenter imposuit: A Research Proposal on the Archbishop of Braga and Antipope Gregory VIII, Maurice “Bourdin”’, Imago temporis. Medium Aevum 12 (2018), pp. 211–235.

²¹ Paul Kehr, Die Belehnungen der süditalienischen Normannenfürsten durch die Päpste 1059–1192 (De Gruyter: Berlin, 1934), pp. 35–36; Robinson, The Papacy, p. 379; Stroll, Calixtus II, pp. 321–322.

²² Loud, Creation, pp. 15–17. For other interpretations—explicitly based on the view that, as feudal overlord, the pope could either confiscate the duchy or claim that it reverted to him in default of legitimate heirs—see Robinson, The Papacy, pp. 368–374; József Deér, Papsttum und Normannen: Untersuchungen zu ihren lehnsrechtlichen und kirchenpolitischen Beziehung (Böhlau: Cologne, 1972); Hubert Houben, Roger II of Sicily: A Ruler between East and West, trans. Graham Loud, Diane Milburn (Cambridge University Press: Cambridge, 2002), p. 44.

²³ Telese, Storia di Ruggero, trans. Matarazzo, pp. 16–18; Loud, Creation, pp. 70–71.

²⁴ Weiler, ‘Knighting, Homage, and Ritual’.

²⁵ Falcone, Chronicon Beneventanum, ed. D’Angelo, p. 102; Loud, Creation, pp. 181–182.

²⁶ Romoaldi Annales, ed. Arndt, p. 418; Loud, Creation, p. 253.

²⁷ Chronica Monasterii Casinensis, ed. Hartmut Hoffmann (Hahn: Hanover, 1980), MGH SS. XXXIV, p. 556; Loud, Creation, p. 279.

²⁸ Damian Smith, ‘Innocent II: A Very Short Introduction’, Innocent II (1130–43): The World vs. the City, ed. idem, John Doran (Routledge: London, 2016), pp. 1–4.

²⁹ Hoffmann, ‘Langobarden, Normannen, Päpste’, pp. 173–176; Loud, Creation, pp. 304–306.

³⁰ For the earlier pensio from Apulia, see chapter one. For Roger II’s privilege of 1134 for the Pierleone, see Paul Kehr, ‘Il diploma purpureo di re Roggero II per la casa Pierleoni’, Archivio della R. Società Romana di storia patria 24 (1901), pp. 253–259, 511.

³¹ Buc, ‘1701’, pp. 106–111.

³² Falcone, Chronicon Beneventanum, ed. D’Angelo, p. 222; Loud, Creation, pp. 238–239.

³³ BAV, Arch. Cap. S. Pietro G.44, fols. 69r–v; Hoffmann, ‘Langobarden, Normannen, Päpste’, pp. 176–178; Loud, Creation, pp. 310–312.

³⁴ Liber Pontificalis, ii, pp. 379–384.

³⁵ Romoaldi Annales, ed. Arndt, p. 423; Loud, Creation, p. 259.

³⁶ Although this was a ‘special case’ (papal privileges were not normally issued when the beneficiary was keeping the pope captive), it was usual for privileges to have considerable input from the beneficiary, see Jochen Johrendt, ‘Der Empfängereinfluß auf die Gestaltung der Arenga und Sanctio in den päpstlichen Privilegien (896–1046)’, Archiv für Diplomatik 50 (2004), pp. 1–12; Judith Werner, Papsturkunden vom 9. bis ins 11. Jahrhundert: Untersuchungen zum Empfängereinfluss auf die äussere Urkundengestalt (de Gruyter: Berlin, 2017); The Letters of Peter of Celle, ed. Julian Haseldine (Oxford University Press: Oxford, 2001), no. 65, pp. 310–313; Historia Compostellana, ed. Falque Rey, lib. 2 cap. 64.

³⁷ Loud, Creation, p. 55.

³⁸ Toubert, Les structures, ii, p. 1169.

³⁹ Romoaldi Annales, ed. Arndt, p. 424; Loud, Creation, p. 261.

⁴⁰ Ignoti Monachi Cisterciensis S. Mariae de Ferraria Chronica et Ryccardi de Sancto Germano Chronica priora, ed. Augusto Gaudenzi (Giannini: Naples, 1888), p. 27; Loud, Creation, pp. 247–249.

⁴¹ Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, ‘I baci liturgici del papa nel Medioevo. Prime ricerche’, Come l’orco della fiaba: Studi per Franco Cardini, ed. Marina Montesano (SISMEL: Florence, 2010), pp. 533–544, at 539. On kisses in imperial inauguration see Dale, Inauguration and Liturgical Kingship, pp. 71–72.

⁴² Cf. Burrow, Gestures and Looks, p. 53.

⁴³ John of Salisbury, Memoirs of the Papal Court, trans. Marjorie Chibnall (Nelson: London, 1956), pp. 66–67; Loud, Latin Church, pp. 160–163.

⁴⁴ Romoaldi Annales, ed. Arndt, p. 428; History of the Tyrants of Sicily, trans. Loud, Wiedemann, p. 222.

⁴⁵ Stephen Church, ‘Political Discourse at the Court of Henry II and the Making of the New Kingdom of Ireland: The Evidence of John’s Title dominus Hibernie’, History 102 (2017), pp. 808–823; idem, ‘Succession and Interregnum in the English Polity: The Case of 1141’, Haskins Society Journal 29 (2017), pp. 181–200.

⁴⁶ John of Salisbury, Memoirs, trans. Chibnall, pp. 68–69. Cf. John Guy, Thomas Becket (Penguin: London, 2013), p. 381.

⁴⁷ Romoaldi Annales, ed. Arndt, p. 435; History of the Tyrants of Sicily, trans. Loud, Wiedemann, p. 239.

⁴⁸ Loud, Latin Church, pp. 163–166.

⁴⁹ On the schism, see Alexander III, ed. Duggan, Clarke.

⁵⁰ Recently, see Anne Duggan, ‘Totius christianitatis caput: The Pope and the Princes’, Adrian IV, ed. eadem, Bolton, pp. 105–155.

⁵¹ Liber pontificalis, ii, p. 394.

⁵² Constitutiones et acta publica, ed. Weiland, i, nos. 413–414, pp. 588–591; History of the Tyrants of Sicily, trans. Loud, Wiedemann, pp. 248–252.

⁵³ Liber pontificalis, ii, pp. 394–395; History of the Tyrants of Sicily, trans. Loud, Wiedemann, pp. 246–247.

⁵⁴ Romoaldi Annales, ed. Arndt, pp. 428–429; History of the Tyrants of Sicily, trans. Loud, Wiedemann, pp. 223–224.

⁵⁵ Constitutiones et acta publica, ed. Weiland, i, no. 413, pp. 588–590; History of the Tyrants of Sicily, trans. Loud, Wiedemann, p. 248.

⁵⁶ Loud, Norman Church, p. 168.

⁵⁷ Jean Huillard-Bréholles, ‘Examen des chartes de l’église Romaine contenues dans les rouleaux dits rouleaux de Cluny’, Notices et extraits des manuscrits de la bibliothèque impériale 21 (1865), pp. 267–363, at no. 3, pp. 323–324; Constitutiones et acta publica, ed. Weiland, i, no. 415, pp. 591–592.

⁵⁸ Loud, Latin Church, p. 169; Walter Fröhlich, ‘The Marriage of Henry VI and Constance of Sicily: Prelude and Consequences’, Anglo-Norman Studies, XV: Proceedings of the Battle Conference 1992, ed. Marjorie Chibnall (Boydell and Brewer: Woodbridge, 1993), pp. 99–115.

⁵⁹ X. 2. 24. 14: Corpus Iuris Canonici, ed. Emil Friedberg, 2 vols. (Tauchnitz: Leipzig, 1879–81), ii: Liber Extra, cols. 363–4. For the date, see Uta-Renate Blumenthal, ‘Cardinal Albinus of Albano and the Digesta pauperis scholaris Albini: MS. Ottob. Lat. 3057’, Archivum Historiae Pontificiae 20 (1982), pp. 7–49, at 28 85n.

⁶⁰ As noted by Ryan, ‘Oath of Fealty’, p. 223.

⁶¹ Constitutiones et acta publica, ed. Weiland, i, no. 413, pp. 588–590; History of the Tyrants of Sicily, trans. Loud, Wiedemann, pp. 248–252.

⁶² Anne Duggan, ‘Hyacinth Bobone: Diplomat and Pope’, Pope Celestine III (1191–1198): Diplomat and Pastor, ed. John Doran, Damian Smith (Ashgate: Farnham, 2008), pp. 1–30, at 18–27; Donald Matthew, The Norman Kingdom of Sicily (Cambridge University Press: Cambridge, 1992), pp. 286–288; Dione Clementi, ‘The Circumstances of Count Tancred’s Accession to the Kingdom of Sicily, Duchy of Apulia and the Principality of Capua’, Mélanges Antonio Marongiu (Istituto di storia medievale: Palermo, 1967), pp. 57–80.

⁶³ Huillard-Bréholles, ‘Examen des chartes’, no. 11, pp. 331–334; Constitutiones et acta publica, ed. Weiland, i, no. 417, pp. 593–594.

⁶⁴ Huillard-Bréholles, ‘Examen des chartes’, no. 10, pp. 330–331; Constitutiones et acta publica, ed. Weiland, i, no. 418, pp. 594–595. There is a lacuna in the document, but it is easy enough to reconstruct. Blumenthal strangely takes fidelity and homage to be synonymous in this letter, which they are not: ‘Cardinal Albinus’, p. 31 100n; cf. Kehr, Belehnungen, pp. 51–52.

⁶⁵ Huillard-Bréholles, ‘Examen des chartes’, no. 10 (par. 2), p. 331; Constitutiones et acta publica, ed. Weiland, i, no. 416, pp. 592–593.

⁶⁶ Nicholas Vincent, ‘Beyond Becket: King Henry II and the Papacy (1154–1189)’, Alexander III, ed. Duggan, Clarke, pp. 257–299, at 265–267; Pascal Montaubin, ‘Innocent II and Capetian France’, Innocent II, ed. Smith, Doran, pp. 107–151, at 121.

⁶⁷ Knut Görich, ‘Frieden schließen und Rang inszenieren. Friedrich I. Barbarossa in Venedig 1177 und Konstanz 1183’, Staufen and Plantagenets: Two Empires in Comparison, ed. Alheydis Plassmann, Dominik Büschken (Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht: Bonn, 2018), pp. 19–52, at 27–29.

⁶⁸ Liber pontificalis, ii, p. 439; Romoaldi Annales, ed. Arndt, p. 452; Rodney Thomson, ‘An English Eyewitness of the Peace of Venice, 1177’, Speculum 50 (1975), pp. 21–32, at 31. Görich, ‘Frieden schließen und Rang inszenieren’, pp. 37–38, suggests that such prostration—beyond the normal kissing of the pope’s feet—was the form in which a repentant sinner asked for reconciliation with the Church, but all three of our sources for Frederick’s proskynesis are unequivocal that the emperor had already been absolved by the cardinals before meeting the pope.

⁶⁹ Geoffrey Malaterra, in his late eleventh-century Deeds of Count Roger, claimed that Pope Leo IX gave ‘all the land which they had seized and which they might be able to seize henceforth’ to the Normans to be held as a ‘hereditary fief’ (hereditali feudo) in 1053. On which see Dione Clementi, ‘The Relations between the Papacy, the Western Roman Empire and the emergent Kingdom of Sicily and Southern Italy (1050–1156)’, Bullettino dell’istituto storico Italiano per il medio evo 80 (1968), pp. 191–212; Geoffrey Malaterra, Histoire du Grand Comte Roger et de son frère Robert Guiscard, ed. trans. Marie-Agnès Lucas-Avenel, book 1, ch. 14: https://www.unicaen.fr/puc/sources/malaterra/tdm (accessed 8/4/2020).

⁷⁰ Liber censuum, i, no. 102, p. 383; Reynolds, Fiefs and Vassals, pp. 443–444.

⁷¹ Monumenta Germaniae Selecta ab anno 768 usque ad annum 1250, ed. Michael Doeberl, 5 vols. (Lindauer: Munich, 1889–94), iv, pp. 107–115.

⁷² Alexandri III pontificis Romani epistolae et privilegia, no. 211, PL 200, cols. 268–9.

⁷³ On compaternitas and amicitia, see van Eickels, ‘Homagium and Amicitia’; Julian Haseldine, ‘Understanding the Language of amicitia: The Friendship Circle of Peter of Celle (c.1115–1183)’, Journal of Medieval History 20 (1994), pp. 237–260; Joseph Lynch, Godparents and Kinship in Early Medieval Europe (Princeton University Press: Princeton NJ, 1986), pp. 5–6, 48–49, 192–201; idem, Christianizing Kingship: Ritual Sponsorship in Anglo-Saxon England (Cornell University Press: Ithaca, NY, 1998), pp. 119–120; Thomas Noble, The Republic of St Peter: The Birth of the Papal State, 680–825 (University of Pennsylvania Press: Philadelphia, PA, 1984), pp. 269–270; Janet Nelson, King and Emperor: A New Life of Charlemagne (University of California Press: London, 2019), pp. 75–76.