Michael Schmicker's Blog - Posts Tagged "knights"
HOLY WAR (Book Review)
What do you get when you mix Ivanhoe, Horatio Alger and a dash of Simone de Beauvoir?
You get Helena Schrader’s “Knight of Jerusalem: A Biographical Novel of Balian d’Ibelin” – a cultured, captivating, 12th century love story packing a feminist punch.
Balian, a young, landless knight dispossessed by primogeniture, heads for Jerusalem to try his luck. By the grace of God, Christian Crusaders now occupy the Holy City, having wrested it from the heathen Muslims in 1099 – who themselves snatched it, inshallah, from the infidel Byzantine Empire in 638; whose pagan Roman forefathers, with Jupiter’s divine blessing, seized it from the Jews in 36 BCE; who, following their tribal God’s command, expropriated the city from its Canaanite owners a thousand years earlier. But it's 1171 now, and the Kingdom of Jerusalem is tense, anxious. Salah-ad-Din’s Saracen hordes are closing in on the tiny, Christian enclave. The wily Sultan of Damascus and Cairo is preaching jihad, determined to drive the godless Western invaders out of the Levant.
Balian finds the royal court crowded with young men from every noble house in France and England pestering the sovereign for favors and appointments. King Amalric quickly sizes up the penniless, idealistic d’Ibelin and makes him an offer – the promise of an orphan heiress if he agrees to teach horsemanship to young, crown prince Baldwin, son of his discarded first wife. The catch? Baldwin is a leper; it could be a death sentence. The pious Balian wrestles with his conscience. To refuse the boy help would be cowardice, perhaps even a sin (leprosy is a “holy disease,” a possible sign of Divine grace). Balian reluctantly accepts, and the relieved King turns his attention back to his pretty doll-child bride, determined to sire another male to replace his defective first.
Eighteen-year-old Queen Maria Zoe Comnena knows she’s simply a baby machine, gifted to Almaric at age 13 by her great-uncle, the Emperor of Constantinople, to cement political ties between the two kingdoms. In five years, she’s only produced a worthless girl for her balding, muscle-going-to-fat husband. The court gossip is cruel and scary. The King is contemplating dumping her for a more fecund bedmate – perhaps a mature widow with the proven ability to pop out sons. The 18-year-old Queen and her 10-year-old diseased stepson share a bond of affection, and understanding of the realpolitik they face – both of them are expendable.
By chance, the Queen one day bumps into the crown prince and his gallant tutor saddling up their steeds at the stable. Balian’s kindness to Baldwin impresses Maria; his handsome looks stir forbidden longings. When the prince suggests she join them for a ride, she accepts, and the rest is (largely factual) historical fiction at its finest – Almaric unexpectedly dying of dysentery; squabbling and intrigues over succession; forbidden love blossoming between Dowager Queen Maria and a courageous Balian beginning his rags-to-riches ascent; Salah-ad-Dinh’s horde of 10,000 soldiers marching on a weakened Jesusalem defended by a desperate, outnumbered band of Christian knights.
Schraders description of the decisive battle of Montgisard (November 25, 1177) is a delight. From strategy (attack at dusk or dawn?); to cavalry tactics (compact formation, stirrup to stirrup, initial shock, use of infantry to to protect knights and their destriers during hand-to-hand combat); to battlecries (“Jerusalem!” “Vive Dieu St. Amour!” “Allahu Akbar!”), to yellow-turbaned Salah-ad-Dinh bursting from his tent, scimitar flashing – the scene is sustained, vivid, tightly-written.
Schrader masterfully works into her narrative a sobering subtext highlighting the sexism pervasive in Medieval times. Source material on gender and history continues to grow. Simone de Beauvoir’s 1949 classic "The Second Sex" (placed on the Index Librorum Prohibitorum by the Vatican) included a groundbreaking look at sexist thought and practices in Western history. Her pioneering study – since augmented by volumnous research produced by women’s history programs – have made possible a wave of fresh, compelling historical fiction reflecting a female perspective. Schrader’s cast of women suffer a slew of historically accurate indignities, including forced, early marriages (by Canon Law, girls can “consent” to marriage at age seven); divorce if they can’t produce a boy (“Do they think we decide the sex of our children?” wonders Queen Maria’s maidservant); and sexual assault perversely turning the victim into a pariah. In one horrific scene, the fort at Ibelin is overrun by Muslims who gang-rape one of their own, a 13-year old girl who vainly recites the Koran to prove she is a Believer. The girl survives, and Balian’s forces retake the town, but the girl’s betrothed indignantly refuses to take her back because she’s now “unclean.” The girl meekly accepts his judgment. She’s now “worthless,” and “filthy,” and begs Balian’s sister-in-law to kill her. Hard times for women.
Schrader is eminently qualified to spin out a Balian biographical novel. She’s spent much of her life researching the Middle Ages and so far has penned six books set in this era, including her Knights Templar Trilogy. She also knows the Middle East. She’s presently on assignment as a diplomat with the U.S. Foreign Service in sub-Sahara Africa, 20 short miles across the Bab-el-Mandeb strait from the religious wars wracking the region today (including Jerusalem – which ISIL is vowing to retake as part of its 21st century caliphate.) Icing on the cake? Schrader’s a fanatical horsewoman who currently owns a hot, little Arabian stallion. Fighting on horseback, she emailed me, is something she can "visualize" with every muscle of her body. In short, she’s the perfect bard for Balian d’Ibelin.
Don’t miss this book. She’s nailed it.
You get Helena Schrader’s “Knight of Jerusalem: A Biographical Novel of Balian d’Ibelin” – a cultured, captivating, 12th century love story packing a feminist punch.
Balian, a young, landless knight dispossessed by primogeniture, heads for Jerusalem to try his luck. By the grace of God, Christian Crusaders now occupy the Holy City, having wrested it from the heathen Muslims in 1099 – who themselves snatched it, inshallah, from the infidel Byzantine Empire in 638; whose pagan Roman forefathers, with Jupiter’s divine blessing, seized it from the Jews in 36 BCE; who, following their tribal God’s command, expropriated the city from its Canaanite owners a thousand years earlier. But it's 1171 now, and the Kingdom of Jerusalem is tense, anxious. Salah-ad-Din’s Saracen hordes are closing in on the tiny, Christian enclave. The wily Sultan of Damascus and Cairo is preaching jihad, determined to drive the godless Western invaders out of the Levant.
Balian finds the royal court crowded with young men from every noble house in France and England pestering the sovereign for favors and appointments. King Amalric quickly sizes up the penniless, idealistic d’Ibelin and makes him an offer – the promise of an orphan heiress if he agrees to teach horsemanship to young, crown prince Baldwin, son of his discarded first wife. The catch? Baldwin is a leper; it could be a death sentence. The pious Balian wrestles with his conscience. To refuse the boy help would be cowardice, perhaps even a sin (leprosy is a “holy disease,” a possible sign of Divine grace). Balian reluctantly accepts, and the relieved King turns his attention back to his pretty doll-child bride, determined to sire another male to replace his defective first.
Eighteen-year-old Queen Maria Zoe Comnena knows she’s simply a baby machine, gifted to Almaric at age 13 by her great-uncle, the Emperor of Constantinople, to cement political ties between the two kingdoms. In five years, she’s only produced a worthless girl for her balding, muscle-going-to-fat husband. The court gossip is cruel and scary. The King is contemplating dumping her for a more fecund bedmate – perhaps a mature widow with the proven ability to pop out sons. The 18-year-old Queen and her 10-year-old diseased stepson share a bond of affection, and understanding of the realpolitik they face – both of them are expendable.
By chance, the Queen one day bumps into the crown prince and his gallant tutor saddling up their steeds at the stable. Balian’s kindness to Baldwin impresses Maria; his handsome looks stir forbidden longings. When the prince suggests she join them for a ride, she accepts, and the rest is (largely factual) historical fiction at its finest – Almaric unexpectedly dying of dysentery; squabbling and intrigues over succession; forbidden love blossoming between Dowager Queen Maria and a courageous Balian beginning his rags-to-riches ascent; Salah-ad-Dinh’s horde of 10,000 soldiers marching on a weakened Jesusalem defended by a desperate, outnumbered band of Christian knights.
Schraders description of the decisive battle of Montgisard (November 25, 1177) is a delight. From strategy (attack at dusk or dawn?); to cavalry tactics (compact formation, stirrup to stirrup, initial shock, use of infantry to to protect knights and their destriers during hand-to-hand combat); to battlecries (“Jerusalem!” “Vive Dieu St. Amour!” “Allahu Akbar!”), to yellow-turbaned Salah-ad-Dinh bursting from his tent, scimitar flashing – the scene is sustained, vivid, tightly-written.
Schrader masterfully works into her narrative a sobering subtext highlighting the sexism pervasive in Medieval times. Source material on gender and history continues to grow. Simone de Beauvoir’s 1949 classic "The Second Sex" (placed on the Index Librorum Prohibitorum by the Vatican) included a groundbreaking look at sexist thought and practices in Western history. Her pioneering study – since augmented by volumnous research produced by women’s history programs – have made possible a wave of fresh, compelling historical fiction reflecting a female perspective. Schrader’s cast of women suffer a slew of historically accurate indignities, including forced, early marriages (by Canon Law, girls can “consent” to marriage at age seven); divorce if they can’t produce a boy (“Do they think we decide the sex of our children?” wonders Queen Maria’s maidservant); and sexual assault perversely turning the victim into a pariah. In one horrific scene, the fort at Ibelin is overrun by Muslims who gang-rape one of their own, a 13-year old girl who vainly recites the Koran to prove she is a Believer. The girl survives, and Balian’s forces retake the town, but the girl’s betrothed indignantly refuses to take her back because she’s now “unclean.” The girl meekly accepts his judgment. She’s now “worthless,” and “filthy,” and begs Balian’s sister-in-law to kill her. Hard times for women.
Schrader is eminently qualified to spin out a Balian biographical novel. She’s spent much of her life researching the Middle Ages and so far has penned six books set in this era, including her Knights Templar Trilogy. She also knows the Middle East. She’s presently on assignment as a diplomat with the U.S. Foreign Service in sub-Sahara Africa, 20 short miles across the Bab-el-Mandeb strait from the religious wars wracking the region today (including Jerusalem – which ISIL is vowing to retake as part of its 21st century caliphate.) Icing on the cake? Schrader’s a fanatical horsewoman who currently owns a hot, little Arabian stallion. Fighting on horseback, she emailed me, is something she can "visualize" with every muscle of her body. In short, she’s the perfect bard for Balian d’Ibelin.
Don’t miss this book. She’s nailed it.
