Doomed Queens (19 page)

Be they of royal or common blood, women of ye olde times considered childbirth a dark passage that could drag both mother and child to early graves. Puerperal fever, a form of blood poisoning linked to unsanitary conditions, was recorded by Hippocrates in ancient Greece. It took until 1847 for the connection between puerperal fever and germs to be made. Viennese physician Ignaz Phillippe Semmelweis noted a dramatic decline in postpartum maternal deaths after he began washing his hands before attending a birth. Afterward, the good Herr Doktor confessed, “God only knows the number of women whom I have consigned prematurely to the grave.”

Puerperal fever was Scylla to the Charybdis of obstructed births. Forceps were not introduced until the 1700s, so too many women expired after days of unproductive labor. Sawbones foolhardy enough to attempt a cesarean usually saved the child at the expense of the mother.

Even if a woman survived with a healthy, living child, there was still the torture of labor to endure without an epidural. Many judged these pains punishment for Eve’s trespasses in Eden.

CAUTIONARY MORAL

Biology can be a bitch.

1190

eanwhile, in other parts of the Western Hemisphere, the Crusades were in full swing. These holy wars were initially intended to return the Muslim-occupied lands of Jerusalem and beyond to the dominion of those who followed the Christian faith. However, the Crusades soon became a venue for mercenary knights to seek their fortunes and for the pious to sacrifice their lives, conveniently reducing the population on both counts. Good times.

By the end of the First Crusade in 1099, Jerusalem had been dragged back into the Christian fold, though the holy war festivities would continue for another two centuries. The new-and-improved Kingdom of Jerusalem was set up as a traditional monarchy and began acquiring neighboring territories to flesh out its skeletal realm—an encroachment not unnoticed by border Muslim states. It was into this powder keg of a situation that Sibyl inherited the throne of Jerusalem in 1186.

Queen Sibyl was born around 1160 to Amalric I and Agnes of Courtenay. Amalric became king of Jerusalem in 1162 after his brother died. Interestingly, Sibyl’s mother was never crowned queen because the church considered their union incestuous—Amalric and Agnes shared a common great-great-grandfather. The royal marriage was annulled after Amalric became king, though Sibyl’s and her brother Baldwin’s legitimacy were upheld.

Gettin’ hitched, medieval style. Adapted from a period manuscript.

Sibyl’s hand in marriage was a hot property, especially after it came out that Baldwin had leprosy—ergo, anyone who gained her hand would wind up king of Jerusalem once father and brother bit the dust. Sibyl’s marital history took on Liz Taylor proportions as she became engaged, married, widowed, and annulled in varying combinations. She met her soul mate in Guy of Lusignan, whom she wed in 1180. Two daughters soon followed, joining her son, Baldwin V, from an earlier marriage.

Six years later, Amalric and Baldwin the leper were cold in their graves and Sibyl became queen. For numerous reasons, the powers that be decided that Guy was a less than desirable king. They pressured Sibyl to dump him pronto. But the new queen proved to be wily beyond her twentysomething years. She agreed to their request, as long as she could choose her next husband. Sibyl remarried Guy before the ink had a chance to dry on the annulment decree.

While all these matrimonial shenanigans were taking place, the Muslims had been united in their outrage by Saladin, sultan of Egypt. A mere year after Sibyl became queen, Saladin successfully invaded Jerusalem, kicking Sibyl and Guy into exile and setting the stage for the Third Crusade.

Queen Sibyl died in 1190 during the Third Crusade after an epidemic infected most of her military camp. Her two young daughters expired with her.

or

If at First You Don’t Succeed

As a ruling monarch, Queen Sibyl was quite the catch on the medieval-era matrimonial market.

CAUTIONARY MORAL

When you wage war for God,
you may inherit the kingdom of heaven.

1213

everal hundred years before Shakespeare wrote “To be or not to be,” there was another Queen Gertrude who was not to be. This Gertrude was born in the seaside duchy of Meran and became the wife of Andrew II, the king of Hungary, at the beginning of the thirteenth century. But like Hamlet’s ill-starred mother, she became entangled in unseen conspiracies that would lead to the grave.

Much of Gertrude’s misfortune can be traced to timing. She married into the Hungarian nobility during a tricky period of transition. Her husband, Andrew, was in the midst of transferring lands from the crown to the people, a process that had begun during his predecessor’s reign. Some of the lesser nobles became impatient for their share and perceived any favor shown to another as a slight against their rights. Gertrude took the fall after several of her relatives were granted high positions at court. True, Andrew was the crown behind the appointments, but it mattered not. Several jealous Hungarian aristocrats expressed their extreme displeasure by murdering the queen in 1213.