Maritime Predation – Blog der Arbeitsgemeinschaft Iberomediaevistik

Die Bedeutung der Seeräuber im Krieg gegen Granada

Silvia Girona Espino, Ruprecht-Karls-Universität Heidelberg

Resumen: El siguiente artículo presenta parte de los resultados de la tesis de fin de grado (18.06.2023) que realicé sobre el corso y la piratería castellana. Se exponen algunas fuentes que deben ayudar a comprender el papel que desempeñó el robo marítimo tanto en la preparación como en la ejecución de la guerra contra Granada. Se confirmará así la tesis de que desde los altos mandos se reconocía el valor y la aportación que podía hacer el corso en la campaña militar.

^{Iberome.Girona.02.11.2023_Espanol}

Zusammenfassung: Der folgende Beitrag stellt ein Teil der Ergebnisse einer Bachelorarbeit (18.06.2023) dar, die sich mit dem kastilischen Seeraub befasst. Es werden einige Quellen erläutert, die zum Verständnis der Rolle des Seeraubs sowohl in der Vorbereitung als auch in der Ausführung des Krieges gegen Granada beitragen sollen. Die These, dass das Korsarentum als ein wichtiger Bestandteil für den Erfolg in der Kampagne aufgefasst wurde, soll damit bestätigt werden.

Der Krieg gegen Granada wurde hauptsächlich zu Lande geführt, dennoch hatte er eine maritime Komponente, die in seinem Verlauf eine große Rolle spielte. In der letzten größeren Kampagne gegen Granada (1482-1492) rief König Ferdinand V. seine Kapitäne auf zur andalusischen Küste zu kommen, sodass sie von dort aus den Feldzug unterstützen konnten. Er richtete sich in einem Brief an alle Autoritäten, um die Fahrt seiner Kapitäne bis zur andalusischen Küste zu ermöglichen und besonders um ihre Sicherheit zu garantieren.¹ Unter diesen Kapitänen befand sich Charles de Valera, Bürgermeister von Puerto de Santa María, welcher namentlich genannt wird und zwei Jahre zuvor wegen Diebstahl im Wert von 103.200 Maravedís angeklagt worden war.² Er sollte eine nach Valencia fahrenden Karavelle überfallen und die Ware behalten haben. Die seeräuberische, und illegalen, Taten des Kapitäns waren zu diesem Zeitpunkt für den König kaum von Bedeutung.

Seeräuber wurden nicht nur toleriert, sondern im Kontext des Granada-Krieges sogar gefördert. Die kastilischen Könige verliehen Privilegien an Adlige oder Kanoniker, die solche Raubzüge fördern sollten. Im Jahr 1472 erhielt der Markgraf von Cádiz, Rodrigo Ponce de León, von Heinrich IV. das Recht, das königliche Fünftel (quinto real) einzuziehen und zu behalten. Diese Steuer, die die lizensierten Seeräuber mit jeder Beute an den König zahlen mussten, wurde in Cádiz zur Förderung von Seeraub sowohl gegen Muslime als auch gegen Christen verwendet.³ Besonders ab 1485, als der Markgraf den Kapitänen ein Drittel des besagten Fünftels zugestand und sich somit der Gewinn der Kapitäne mit jeder Beute, die sie dem Markgrafen übergaben, erhöhte. Die Rechnungen des Hafens von Cádiz zeigen für das Jahr 1485 Einnahmen aus dem Fünftel des Markgrafen (quinto del marqués) von 234.399 Maravedís aus. Dieser Betrag, der nur auf den Beutezügen gegen Muslime beruht, spiegelt wider, dass die Schiffe aus Cádiz jede Gelegenheit nutzten, um die Flüchtlinge von Granada auf ihrem Weg nach Afrika abzufangen.⁴

In einem Privileg von 1481, welches für Pedro Jiménez de Preaño, Kanoniker der Kirche von Toledo, ausgestellt wurde und dem des Markgrafen von Cádiz ähnelt, ist jedoch eine erhebliche Veränderung der Erhebungsbedingungen des Fünftels zu erkennen. Zu diesem Zeitpunkt war der erwähnte Krieg gegen Granada bereits in Vorbereitung und beeinflusste dementsprechend das Privileg, welches der Kanoniker erhielt. Ab April 1481 sollte die Kirche von Toledo drei Jahre lang das Fünftel jeder Beute, die von Muslimen erbeutet wurde, einziehen. Der König gewährte dem Kanoniker Preaño das königliche Fünftel mit der Absicht, das gesammelte Geld für den „Krieg und die Eroberung“ (guerra e conquista) des Reiches Granada und Nordafrikas zu verwenden und ernannte ihn somit zum ‚Schatzmeister‘ dieser Steuer.⁵

Die Kaperfahrt erfüllte in dieser Hinsicht eine doppelte Funktion: Einerseits würde sie den Feinden der Krone direkten Schaden zufügen, indem sie ihren Handel, und damit ihre Wirtschaft, schwächte, und andererseits würde sie Geld einbringen, welches ausdrücklich für den Krieg gegen die Muslime bestimmt war. Die Könige von Kastilien förderten dieses Verhalten schon lange vor 1482 und machten es im Jahr 1481 zu einem grundlegenden Bestandteil ihres Krieges.

Photo: Handwerktafel mit Rittern, Galeeren und einem Schiff mit hohem Deck (Ausschnitt), wahrscheinlich aus dem Chor des Schreins der “Nuestra Señora de la Fuente de Peñarroya de Tastavins” (Teruel), 14. Jh., in: Museu Nacional d’Art de Catalunya, Katalog Nr.: 015839-000, URL: [https://www.museunacional.cat/es/colleccio/tabla-de-artesonado-con-caballeros-galeras-y-nave-de-alta-borda/anonim-arago/015839-000 ] (02.11.2023).

1482-05-25. AMJF. AC. 1482, f. 110r, veröffentlicht in: Fuentes Históricas Jerezanas. Documentos de los Reyes Católicos (1474–1482), hg. von Juan ABELLÁN PÉREZ (Libros EPCCM. Fuentes 6), Cádiz 2015, Dok. 194, S. 418–420. [↩]
1480-05-08. AGS, RGS, LEG, 148005, 78, veröffentlicht in: Fuentes Históricas Jerezanas. Documentos de los Reyes Católicos (1474–1482), hg. von Juan ABELLÁN PÉREZ (Libros EPCCM. Fuentes 6), Cádiz 2015, Dok. 144, S. 318–319. Obwohl das Anliegen rechtlich verfolgt wurde, konnte ich das Schicksal von Charles de Valera aufgrund fehlender Quellen nicht nachgehen. [↩]
1476-04-30. AHNOB – OSUNA, C. 183, D. 45, veröffentlicht in: Hernández Sande, Corso y piratería. Anexos, 2019, Dok. 54, S. 319–324. [↩]
LADERO QUESADA, Miguel Ángel, Unas cuentas de Cádiz (1485–1486), in: Cuadernos de estudios medievales y ciencias y técnicas historiográficas 2–3, 1974–1975, S. 85–120, hier: S. 87, 98–99. [↩]
1481-11-04. AMJF, AC. 1482, f. 63r.–v., veröffentlicht in: Fuentes Históricas Jerezanas. Documentos de los Reyes Católicos (1474–1482), hg. von Juan ABELLÁN PÉREZ (Libros EPCCM. Fuentes 6), Cádiz 2015, Dok. 172, S. 376–378, hier: S. 376. [↩]

Tailored Terms – Catalan and Genoese maritime predators in Venetian words

Laurin Herberich, Ruprecht-Karls-Universität Heidelberg

Zusammenfassung: Heutzutage verfügen wir über eine Fülle von Begriffen, mit denen wir uns dem mittelalterlichen Phänomen der Seeräuberei nähern können. Von ‚Korsar‘ über ‚Seeräuber‘ bis hin zu ‚Pirat‘ ist alles dabei. Aber wie nannten die Menschen, die fast täglich mit maritimen Raubüberfällen zu tun hatten, ihre Plagegeister? Um sich diesem umfangreichen Thema zu nähern, ist Laurin Herberich in den Ozean des Archivio di Stato di Venezia eingetaucht. In diesem Beitrag stellt er eine Studie zur spätmittelalterlichen Terminologie vor, die auf zwei katalanischen und einem genuesischen Fall von Seeraub aus dem ersten Viertel des 15. Jahrhunderts basiert.

^{Iberome.Herberich.07.06.2023_Deutsch}

Abstract: Nowadays we find ourselves sitting on a treasure trove of terms with which to approach the medieval phenomenon of maritime predation. From ‘corsair’ to ‘sea robber’ to ‘pirate’ we have it all. But how did the people dealing with maritime predation on a near-daily basis call their nuisances? To approach this vast topic Laurin Herberich took a dip in the ocean that is the Archivio di Stato di Venezia. In this paper he presents a study of late medieval terminology based on two Catalan and one Genoese case of maritime predation from the first quarter of the fifteenth century.

In winter 1416 the Catalan Nicolas Sampier robbed the vessel of Venetian Nicolaus Lombardo in the upper Levant.¹ Not being satisfied yet, he went on to rob two further Venetian vessels of Acre shortly before 8 May 1417.² Still not having had enough Sampier tried his luck again in early July 1417, but was captured by the captain of the Venetian Beirut galley convoy.³ Not only had he caused damages on the order of 14,333 ducats total,⁴ but he had also done so without the approval of his licensor, the Hospitaller Order.⁵ Nowadays we would probably be comfortable calling him a ‘pirate’. Not less ‘piratical’ seem the actions of another Catalan, Moysius Servente. In late July 1423 he robbed a Venetian vessel in the harbour of Rhodes.⁶ There Servente proceeded to detain the Venetian merchants on their ship for several days, while he and his crew carried goods to their own vessels and even sold them to bystanders.⁷ The audacity to steal around 4,649 ducats worth of goods for all of Rhodes to see seems pretty swashbuckling and would certainly make Servente a ‘pirate’ in our book.⁸ Similarly ‘piratical’ seem the incidents that the Genoese Antonio Gentil was responsible for. Sometime in early 1402 he took advantage of the still chaotic situation in the Levant following Timur’s capture of Damascus and treated himself and his crew to 18 tons of cotton from the Venetian magazines in Tripoli, worth roughly 2,075 ducats.⁹ But robbing Venetians went against the provisions of his Genoese predation license and so Gentil was told to compensate the damages.¹⁰ Instead, only two months after avoiding payment, he was out for booty again, this time in Rhodes harbour. On 25 November 1402 he plundered the vessel of Venetian Francesco Pampano taking goods worth around 1,000 ducats.¹¹ Gentil was definitely aware of the illegality of his actions, because he was transporting Genoese envoys, who not only tried to stop him, but also sent complaints to Genoa and Venice.¹²

So what did their employers and the Venetian senate have to say about these three who fulfill popular modern criteria for being ‘pirates’. In the case of Nicolas Sampier, his employer, the Hospitaller Order, referred to him as someone who caused ‘damna’ or ‘damages’.¹³ Internal Venetian documents called Sampier a ‘pirata’ or ‘cursarius’ 19 times instead.¹⁴ The copious internal use of these fitting terms is even surpassed by the 28 times Venetian envoys used them when negotiating with the Hospitallers.¹⁵

Judging from Sampier’s case, one would expext the senate to be no less vocally upset about Moysius Servente. And indeed, in one internal document the senate called him a ‘pirata’ two times.¹⁶ Externally Venice seems to have been more reserved, resorting to the seemingly tamer ‘derobator’ five times in four documents.¹⁷ Interestingly, Venice’s tone changed drastically once it decided that the monarch of the Crown of Aragon should be paying for Servente’s misdeeds and that the Hospitallers should help them get said restitution.¹⁸ After that Venice did not stray far from the words of Servente’s king, Alfons V,¹⁹ which were more neutral. Like the Hospitallers had done with Sampier, Alfons described Servente as someone who caused ‘damna’.²⁰

In the case of Antonio Gentil his Genoese employers described him alternately as the patron of a galley or,²¹ like the Hospitallers and Alfons V before them, as someone who caused damages.²² Looking at it from the internal Venetian perspective, one notes that Gentil is called a ‘pirata’ twice.²³ Looking at the external Venetian correspondence with Genoa instead, it is surprising that he is not once called ‘pirata’. The maximum amount of naughtiness Venice is willing to engage in when negotiating with Genoa is calling Gentil a version of ‘derobator’ eight times in five of 14 documents.²⁴ Compared with Sampier’s 25 ‘pirata’ and three ‘cursarius’ in all five pieces of external correspondence, Gentil really seems to have been let off the hook. Furthermore, the longer the negotiations took the more the senate seems to have wanted to get on Genoa’s good side, as is indicated by the initially timid but in the end almost generous use of euphemisms for Gentil’s deeds.²⁵

Three patterns catch the eye. First it seems like ‘pirata’ was a naughty word. In all three cases it was used internally, but externally only in the case of Sampier. Second, the Venetians seem to have changed their terminology depending on their audience. Only Sampier was ‘out’ as a ‘pirate’, while Gentil and Servente were called ‘pirata’ only behind closed doors. Looking at the Servente case, we find that the senate switched terminology even while negotiating the same case. Third, faced with certain maritime powers like Genoa, the Venetian senate was even willing to use euphemisms for what was according to an eyewitness “a violent robbery”.²⁶ So why did Venice mince its words in these three patterns to let Servente and Gentil off the hook and ‘out’ only Sampier as a ‘pirata’?

Looking at the larger contexts of each case, it all seems to have come down to power and evidence. If Venice had superior power and evidence, say, because the other maritime power was not as capable and also vulnerable to a bad reputation because it relyed on donations and papal approval, like the Hospitallers,²⁷ and on top of that, the Venetian senate was in possession of not only the alleged ‘pirate’ but also his ‘predation license’,²⁸ Venice employed pressure strategies to get its restitution. These included in the case of Nicolas Sampier using the naughty word in their allegation that the Hospitallers were equipping ‘pirates’ despite their vow to protect Christians²⁹ as well as blatant threats like the enforcement of a Venetian embargo on Rhodes.³⁰ If Venice had superior power but no evidence, say, because it had not captured the alleged ‘pirate’, but was still facing a minor power, e.g. the Hospitallers, like in the case of Moysius Servente, it resorted to the use of tamer vocabulary like ‘derobator’, more neutral terms in general, and even went as far as not to allege the Hospitallers were in league with ‘pirates’, because they refused to help Servente’s Venetian victims.³¹ As soon as Venice switched to the king of Aragon as the target of its restitution demands though, we can see how Venice behaved, if it had neither power nor evidence. If strongarming a minor power was off the table, because the audience was a capable maritime power and thus more likely to prolong negotiations or counteract to Venetian strongarming attempts, like the Crown of Aragon or Genoa, Venice resorted to even more or mostly neutral terms, like in Servente’s case. It even went as far as to employ euphemisms, post factum legitimisations for the incident itself or to ignore missed deadlines. All in all the likelihood of being called a ‘pirate’ seems to have decreased with the amount of evidence Venice had and the capabilities of the maritime power it chose to demand restitution from.

Photo: Grünenberg, Konrad von, Beschreibung der Reise von Konstanz nach Jerusalem, Bodenseegebiet ca. 1487, in: Chart. A 541, folio 10v–11r, URL: [https://dhb.thulb.uni-jena.de/receive/ufb_cbu_00025778urn: nbn:de:urmel-ufb-152779-8-0011] (07.06.2023).

ASV.Secreti.6.142r (04.05.1417), l. 10–13, Thiriet, Sénat, vol. II, p. 153, reg. 1648. [↩]
ASV.Ducha.Missive.1, lett. 3, 7 (21.04.1417); Thiriet, Délibérations des Assemblées Vénitiennes. Régestes des Années 1364–1463, Reg. 1220, p. 139; ASV.Ducha.Missive.1, lett. 5, 6 (08./16.05.1417); Thiriet, Délibérations des Assemblées Vénitiennes. Régestes des Années 1364–1463, Reg. 1222, p. 140; ASV.Libri.10.197v, l. 3–5. [↩]
ASV.Misti.52.41v (21.08.1417), Z. 4–10; Sathas, Documents, vol. 1,3, p. 165, reg. 719. [↩]
ASV.Libri.10.197v, l. 20–21. [↩]
ASV.Misti.52.41v (21.08.1417), 41v, l. 31, 42r, l. 8; Sathas, Documents, vol. 1,3, p. 165–166, reg. 719. [↩]
ASV.Misti.54.141v. (28.08.1423), l. 24–28; Thiriet, Sénat, vol. II, p. 209, reg. 1902. [↩]
ASV.Misti.54.141v. (28.08.1423), l. 28–31; Thiriet, Sénat, vol. II, p. 209, reg. 1902. [↩]
ASV.Misti.54.141v. (28.08.1423), l. 39–42; Thiriet, Sénat, vol. II, p. 209, reg. 1902. [↩]
ASV.Misti.46.43r (22.09.1402), l. 1 —5; ASV.Secreti.1.82r (19.12.1402), l. 36–39; Delaville, La France en Orient au XIV. siècle, vol. II, p. 106, Pièce XXV. Conversion: 1 North Syrian kintar = 217 kg, 1 Sack = 144 kg, 125 sacks of cotton x 144 kg = 18,000 kg, 18.000 kg / 217 kg = 83 kintar, 1 North Syrian (Tripoli) kintar in the first half of the fifteenth century = 25 ducats, 83 kintar x 25 ducats = 2,075 ducats, 125 sacks = 2,075 ducats, cf. Ashtor, Levant Trade in the Middle Ages, 173–179, 184, 188–189, 257. [↩]
ASV.Misti.46.43r (22.09.1402), l. 1–5; ASV.Secreti.1.121v (18.12.1403), l. 10–16, 41–44, Delaville, La France en Orient au XIV. siècle, vol. II, p. 136, Pièce XXXIII. [↩]
ASV.Libri.9.141r, l. 9–11, 11–12, 12–17, 21–23, 19–54; Secrete.1.90r (05.03.1403), l. 2–4, 90v, l. 9–11; Libri.9.141v, l. 23–25, 26–29, 30–38, 50–53, 142r, l. 1–7. The name Grimaldi is no surprise here, cf. Favreau-Lilie, Diplomacy (2013), p. 301. [↩]
Secrete.1.90r (05.03.1403), l. 4–6, 90v, l. 1–4; Secrete.1.112v (16.11.1403), l. 41–46; Secrete.1.134r (23.02.1404 [m.V. 1403]), l. 17–23; Surdich, Venezia (1970), D.20, pp. 188–192. If said envoys were among the witnesses named in the Rhodian notarial act sent to Venice, which confirmed Pampano’s story, remains to be verified, cf. Libri.9.141v, l. 46–50. [↩]
ASV.Libri.10.197v (31.10.1417), l. 19–20, (18.02.1418), l. 50. [↩]
ASV.Misti.52.7r (05.04.1417), l. 2, 14v (16.05.1417), l. 1, 5; ASV.Maggior Consiglio.Deliberazioni. Ursa, f.15 (17.08.1417), l. 2; ASV.Misti.52.41r (21.08.1417), l. 1, 4, 9, 42r, l. 23, 37; ASV.Misti.52.86v (07.04.1418), l. 6, ASV.Libri.10.197v, l. 3, 5; ASV.Sindicati.Reg.1.213r–213v (22.08.1419). [↩]
ASV.Secreti.6.142r (04.05.1417), l. 1; ASV.Secreti.6.142r (04.05.1417), l. 2, 11; ASV.Secreti.6.142r (04.05.1417), l. 10; ASV.Secreti.6.142r (04.05.1417), l. 12, 17; ASV.Secreti.6.156v (28.07.1417), l. 4, 7, 12, 17, 19, 22; ASV.Secreti.6.156v (28.07.1417), l. 12; ASV.Misti.52.41r (21.08.1417), l. 20, 41v, l. 1, 6, 12, 17, 20, 23; ASV.Misti.52.41v (21.08.1417), l. 12; ASV.Libri.10.198r, l. 28, 30; ASV.Misti.53.32r (05.03.1420), l. 10, 11. [↩]
ASV.Misti.54.143r (30.08.1423), l. 30, 31. [↩]
ASV.Misti.54.141v. (28.08.1423), l. 33; ASV.Misti.54.163v (13.12.1423), l. 2; ASV.Misti.54.163v (13.12.1423), l. 3, 17, 21. [↩]
ASV.Misti.54.167v (30.12.1423), Z. 9–15; Sathas, Documents, vol. 1,3, p. 260, reg. 834. [↩]
ASV.Misti.54.141v. (28.08.1423), l. 28, 33, 38, 40, 42, 142r, l. 3, 163v (13.12.1423), l. 9, 13, 15, 19, 22, 167v (30.12.1423), l. 1–3, 9, 14, 16; ASV.Misti.55.52v (06.09.1424), l. 1–2, 10, 14, 16, 19, 23, 28, 125v (13.06.1425), l. 1, 4–5, 8–10, 12–14, 15, 17–18, 126r, l. 1–4. [↩]
ASV.Misti 55.125v (13.06.1425), l. 11. [↩]
ASV.Misti 46.43r (22.09.1402), l. 1–3; ASV.Libri.9.153r (27.04.1402), l. 28–29. [↩]
ASV.Libri.9.153r (22.05.1403), l. 42. [↩]
ASV.Libri.9.141r, l. 15, 17. [↩]
ASV.Secreti.1.82r (19.12.1402), l. 38, 90v (05.03.1403), l. 9, 119r (13.12.1403), l. 48, 120v (15.12.1403), l. 3, 8, 121r, 8, 125r (29.12.1403), l. 12. [↩]
ASV.Secreti.1.82r (19.12.1402), l. 38, 87v (08.02.1403 (m.V. 1402), l. 19, 90v (05.03.1403), l. 5, 6, 120v (15.12.1403), l. 22, 121v (18.12.1403), l. 10, 13–14, 41, 122v (22.12.1403), l. 4, 125r (29.12.1403), l. 12. [↩]
ASV.Libri.9.141r (07.12.1402), l. 12–17. [↩]
Luttrell, The Hospitallers of Rhodes and their Mediterranean World, 1992, II, p. 82, XIX, pp. 141–142, XIX, p. 133. [↩]
ASV.Misti.53.32r (05.03.1420), l. 14–18; Sathas, Documents, vol. 1,3, p. 205–206, reg. 762; Thiriet, Sénat, vol. II, p. 180, reg. 1764. [↩]
ASV.Misti.52.41v (21.08.1417), l. 11–13; Sathas, Documents, vol. 1,3, p. 165, reg. 719. [↩]
ASV.Misti.52.42r (21.08.1417), l. 11–14; Sathas, Documents, vol. 1,3, p. 166, reg. 719; ASV.Misti.52.42v (21.08.1417), l. 1–2, 43r (27.08.1417),l. 1–7, 86v (07.04.1418), l. 1–14; Sathas, Documents, vol. 1,3, p. 172, reg. 727. [↩]
ASV.Misti.54.141v. (28.08.1423), l. 30–36; Thiriet, Sénat, vol. II, p. 209, reg. 1902. [↩]

A “Pestilential Disease” – Piracy in Times of War in the Late Medieval Crown of Aragon

Dr. Victòria Burguera i Puigserver, Ruprecht-Karls-Universität Heidelberg

Resumen: La violencia marítima en el Mediterráneo bajomedieval podía adoptar variadas formas en diferentes contextos. Así, la concepción de los piratas y la percepción de la piratería eran igualmente diversas dependiendo de los actores en cuestión. Detrás de la amenaza percibida por las ciudades de la Corona de Aragón en la primera mitad del siglo XV, se esconden intereses cambiantes y competencias a nivel interno y externo ¿Y si el rey y los piratas estuvieran en el mismo equipo?

^{Iberome.Burguera.05.04.2023_Espanol}

Abstract: Maritime violence in the late medieval Mediterranean could take various forms in different contexts. Thus, the conception of pirates and the perception of piracy were equally diverse depending on the actors involved. Behind the threat perceived by the cities of the Crown of Aragon in the first half of the 15th century, there were shifting interests and competitions both internally and externally.What if the king and the pirates were on the same team?

2^nd April 1440. The galleys of the Majorcan Ponç Descatllar, the Valencian Jaume de Vilaragut and the Catalans Bernat and Galceran de Requesens lay an ambush in the mouth of the Ebro River from which the ships passing through the area cannot escape.¹ They are engaged in rounding up and looting ships carrying wheat and other supplies to various coastal cities, including the capital of the principality of Catalonia: Barcelona.

The Barcelona authorities, along with those of the city of Tortosa, the closest city to the conflict zone, are the first to take notice of the events. The skippers, who are subjects of the king and members of his fleet, used force and their rank to capture people, plunder ships and even threaten, torture and mutilate those who resisted them. The rulers of the city will devote all their efforts to have them declared public enemies, so that they can be prosecuted, imprisoned and judged for their actions.² Through about twenty letters exchanged by the Barcelona authorities and their representatives in the courts with Queen consort Mary of Aragon, King Alfonso the Magnanimous and other authorities, it is possible to reconstruct the discourse developed by the municipal leaders to criminalise the acts of the skippers, who were close to the monarch and members of his fleet.³

It had been a long time since the Catalan-Aragonese monarchy had had sufficient means to undertake military campaigns on its own. Thus, for the conquest of Naples, apart from counting on the economic support of the cities under his dominion and drawing on old personal ties, the king appealed to his subjects to join his war of conquest.⁴ The king would gain a private force at his disposal to help him pursue his own objectives, while the participants (only those with the economic strength to arm large warships, i.e. mostly nobles and members of the urban oligarchy) would find a path to political, economic and social advancement.⁵ Their position in the monarch’s inner circle, along with the latter’s need and dependence on their ships for his war, turned many members of the royal navy into veritable time bombs, in a position to potentially act with impunity.

Powerful cities affected by their excesses, such as Barcelona, were forced to organize flotillas on several occasions to pursue them,⁶ in what was conceived at the time as a “pestilential disease”.⁷ Thus, despite the king’s numerous foreign enemies, maritime violence was sometimes more an expression of domestic unrest than the result of external competition.

Yet, in addition to the harm these patrons may have caused the monarch’s own subjects, there was another underlying issue. Behind the expressions referring to their “insatiable appetite” and “lack of shame”, together with accusations of being “a pirate, murderer, limb mutilator of great inhumanity and viciousness”,⁸ there was the latent conflict between the urban elites of the city of Barcelona and the monarchy, resulting in an armed conflict years later: the well-known Catalan Civil War.

The dialectic and rhetoric used by the municipal leaders to criminalise said patrons is fully embedded in the process of the criminalisation of piracy as a whole. And, curiously, in this case the process was not the result of an attempt at state reaffirmation by the monarchy, as historiography has pointed out in other contexts.⁹ On the contrary, it was the expression of a force contesting the king’s interests, in accordance with the plurality of powers typical of medieval times and so characteristic of the territories that made up the Late Medieval Crown of Aragon.

Photo: Niçard, Pere, Sant Jordi, in: Wikimedia Commons, URL: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Sant_Jordi_Pere_Niçard.jpg] (05.04.2023)

The development of this episode, together with a study of the subterfuges used by one of the skippers, Ponç Descatllar, to escape the judicial process to which he was subjected for having practiced piracy, has recently been published in: Burguera i Puigserver, Victòria A. “Jutjar els actes de pirateria a la Corona d’Aragó baixmedieval. El cas de Ponç Descatllar (1440)”, Anales de la Universidad de Alicante. Historia medieval, 24 (2023), pp. 67-90. https://doi.org/10.14198/medieval.24205. [↩]
The first three were declared public enemies and persecuted as such, but only Ponç Descatllar was imprisoned and prosecuted, albeit temporarily. In fact, the legal proceedings against him, compiled by the Barcelona bailiff after he was captured by a fleet armed by the leaders of that city, is one of the few examples of cases of illegitimate attacks on the seas belonging to the Crown of Aragon that have been preserved until today. [↩]
The letters are kept in the Historical Archive of the City of Barcelona (AHCB), specifically in the registers of Lletres closes (sent) and Lletres comunes (received). [↩]
Sáiz Serrano, Jorge (2008). Caballeros del rey. Nobleza y guerra en el reinado de Alfonso el Magnánimo (Valencia: Publicacions de la Universitat de València), pp. 22, 65. [↩]
Burguera i Puigserver, Victòria A. (2020). Els perills de la mar. Pirateria, captiveri i gestió del conflicte marítim a la Corona d’Aragó (1410-1458), (Unpublished PhD dissertation), Universitat de Barcelona, pp. 177-185. [↩]
Ibidem, pp. 301-307. [↩]
AHCB, 1B. VI-7, ff. 37r-v. 4 abril 1440. [↩]
The latter were mentioned by the Barcelona councilors against Ponç Descatllar. AHCB, 1B. VI-7, f. 51v. Barcelona, 26 April 1440; ff. 56r-57v. Barcelona, 7 May 1440. [↩]
For instance, in medieval England (Heebøll-Holm, T. K. (2020). “Towards a Criminalisation of Piracy in Late Medieval England”. In L. Sicking; A. Wijffels (eds.), Conflict Management in the Mediterranean and the Atlantic, 1000-1800 (pp. 165-186). Leiden/Boston: Brill. https://doi.org/10.1163/9789004407992_010) or France (Prétou, Pierre. (2021). L’invention de la piraterie en France au Moyen Âge. Paris: PUF). [↩]

Alfons V. and his predators – Control through Goodwill

Laurin Herberich, Ruprecht-Karls-Universität Heidelberg

Zusammenfassung: Alfons V. el Magnànim war nicht unbedingt für seine kulante Haltung bekannt, wenn es um Politik ging. Nachdem er die Genuesen, Mamluken, Venezianer und die meisten anderen Seemächte des östlichen Mittelmeeres nach seinem Herrschaftsantritt im Jahre 1416 antagonisiert hatte, hatte er sich sicherlich einen gewissen Ruf verdient. Um so überraschender ist seine Reaktion auf eine Seeraubanschuldigung der Venezianer aus dem Jahr 1424. Kann man ihm aufgrund dieser etwa Kulanz attestieren? Basierend auf bisher unbeachteten Dokumenten des venezianischen Senates kontextualisiert und dekonstruiert Laurin Herberich diese scheinbar kulante Geste des Magnànims.

^{Iberome.Herberich.08.10.2022_Deutsch}

Abstract: Alfons V. el Magnànim was not necessarily known for his goodwill when it came to politics. After having antagonised the Genoese, Mamluks and Venetians and most other maritime powers in the Eastern Mediterranean since his ascension to the throne in 1416, he had cultivated a certain reputation to say the least. The more surprising is his reaction to an accusation of maritime predation by the Venetians in 1424. Was this goodwill he was showing? Working from so far unconsidered documents of the Venetian senate Laurin Herberich contextualises and deconstructs the Magnànim’s supposed gesture of goodwill.

Alfons V. el Magnànim pursued an ambitious sea power policy in the Eastern Mediterranean in the face of already established maritime powers like the Mamluks, Genoese and Venetians.¹ Against the Mamluks this policy, which mostly relied on maritime predators, was implemented in the form of punitive raids on coastal areas.² Against the dominant Christian maritime powers in the Eastern Mediterranean Alfons’ policy became visible in incidents of maritime predation.³ Because most other key staging areas for predatorial and mercantile ventures were already occupied by Venice and Genoa,⁴ the Crown’s sea experts sailed from Sardinia, Sicily and especially Rhodes.⁵ The Hospitallers ruling the latter since 1312 to Venice’s chagrin⁶ and its competitors delight⁷ even provided individuals with predation licenses from at least 1413 onwards.⁸ Nevertheless Venetian merchants were now and then forced to anchor in Rhodes, if they wanted to take part in the Levant trade.⁹

This was the plan of Venetians Nicolaus Torellio and his associates heading for Damiette from Crete in late July 1423 on the vessel of patron Michael Maurothodoro. His vessel was forced to anchor in Rhodes harbour due to bad weather.¹⁰ After a couple of days two Catalan vessels pulled into port.¹¹ The Catalans under their captain Moysius Servente proceeded to detain the Venetians on their own ship for several days, while they robbed them, carrying Venetian goods to their own cochae and even selling them to bystanders in the harbour. Somehow the Venetian merchants managed to appeal to the Grandmaster for help,¹² but he refused.¹³

A possible explanation for his refusal is that Moysius Servente had received a predation license from the Rhodian authorities. This is likely for two reasons. The first is that during the following restitution negotiations the Venetian senate was convinced this was the case.¹⁴ The second reason is that there are other incidents of maritime predation in Rhodes harbour, after which the Hospitallers were more than happy to help Venetian victims document their damages and press charges.¹⁵

Although Moysius Servente had thus seemingly operated under a Rhodian license, the senate openly stated that it would prefer to receive restitution from the Crown of Aragón instead, because Venice winning the restitution negotiations would lead to more maritime predation in Rhodes harbour and because the Crown could afford to loose some money.¹⁶ To get Alfons to restitute the damages, the senate wanted the Hospitallers to support Venice’s restitution claim.¹⁷ Keenly aware that delaying the case would be a disadvantage for Venice,¹⁸ the senate attached the Servente case to several other cases¹⁹ it was demanding restitution for.²⁰

After the Venetian envoys had returned to the senate on June 13^th 1425, they reported success. Curiously though el Magnànim had dragged Moysius Servente in front of the Venetian envoys offering them to imprison him like Venice had demanded, but only, if all other maritime predators, for whose misdeeds the Venetians were demanding restitution, would be punished like Servente. This the Venetian envoys had declined, because they knew, as they said, that the king could not possibly get a hold of all of them and thus would have never payed restitution for the other cases. So they agreed to the financial restitution of all cases, including Servente’s.²¹ But did king Alfons V. decide to pay the 4.649 ducats demanded by Venice for the Rhodes incident, which he had not sanctioned, just as a gesture of goodwill?²²

No matter if Moysius Servente was a maritime predator with a Rhodian license uncontrolled by the Hospitallers or an unlicensed one uncontrolled by the king of Aragón, control is a possible explanation for the latter’s ‘goodwill’. If Alfons V. wanted to assert his authority over his subjects capable of maritime predation, indebting them to himself might have been a good idea. Uncontrolled maritime predators could be a financial and political liability. By taking on political and especially financial responsibility for their misdeeds, he was increasing the number of ships he could use to project his sea power in the Eastern Mediterranean without getting drawn into undesired conflicts.

Photo: Grünenberg, Konrad von, Beschreibung der Reise von Konstanz nach Jerusalem, Bodenseegebiet ca. 1487, in: Chart. A 541, folio 16v–17r, URL: [https://dhb.thulb.uni-jena.de/receive/ufb_cbu_00025778urn: nbn:de:urmel-ufb-152779-8-0011] (08.10.2022).

Coulon, Damien, The Commercial Influence of the Crown of Aragon in the Eastern Mediterranean (Thirteenth–Fifteenth Centuries), in: The Crown of Aragon. A Singular Mediterranean Empire (Brill’s Companions to European History, 12), ed. Flocel Sabaté, Leiden 2017,p.294; Ashtor, Eliyahu, Levant trade in the later Middle Ages, Princeton 1983, ND 2014, pp. 365–367. [↩]
Ashtor, Levant trade, 1983, ND 2014, pp. 222–226, 283–285, 300. [↩]
Balard, Michel, Le Commerce en Méditerranée orientale: Diffusion des Produits, Capital humain, Conflicts politiques (XIII^e-XV^e S.), in: La Corona Catalanoaragonesa, l’Islam I el Món mediterrani. Estudis d’Història medieval en Homenatge a la Doctora Maria Teresa Ferrer I Mallol (Anuario de Estudios medievales, Anejo 71), ed. Josefina Mutgé I Vives, Roser Salicrú I Lluch, Carles Vela Aulesa, Barcelona 2013, pp. 23–25. [↩]
Unali, Anna, Marineros, Piratas y Corsarios Catalanes en la Baja Edad Media (Isla de la Tortuga, 8), Sevilla 2007, pp. 137–174. Having collided with Genoa over Corsica and Sardinia in the years between 1419 and 1423. [↩]
Katele, Irene, Captains and corsairs. Venice and Piracy. 1261–1381, Diss. Ann Harbour 1986, pp. 35, 43, 46–47; Ferrer i Mallol, Barcelona i la política mediterrània catalana: el Parlament de 1400-1401, in: 14. Congresso di storia della Corona d’Aragona. Sassari-Alghero 19-24 maggio 1990 sul tema La Corona d’Aragona in Italia (secc. 13-18), vol. 2 (vols. 1-2), ed. Maria Grazia Meloni, Sassari 1995, pp. 428–439; Coureas, Nicolas, Piracy in Cyprus and the Eastern Mediterranean during the Later Middle Ages (14th-15th centuries), in: Mésogeios 12 (2001), p. 200; Bonneaud, Pierre, The Influential Trade: Community of Western Merchants on Hospitaller Rhodes (1421-1480), in: Union in Separation. Diasporic Groups and Identities in the Eastern Mediterranean (1100-1800) (Viella Historical Research, 1), eds. Georg Christ, Franz-Julius Morche, Roberto Zaugg, Wolfgang Kaiser, Stefan Burkhardt, Alexander Daniel Beihammer, Rom 2015, p. 398; Id., Els Hospitalers Catalans a la fi de l’Edat Mitjana. L’orde de l’Hospital a Catalunya i a la Mediterrània, 1396–1472 (Els Ordes Militars, 11), Lleida 2008, p. 161. [↩]
Vann, Theresa, Hospitallers and Piracy on Rhodes, 14^th-16^th centuries, in: Seeraub im Mittelmeerraum. Piraterie, Korsarentum und maritime Gewalt von der Antike bis zur Neuzeit (Mittelmeerstudien, 3), eds. Nikolas Jaspert and Sebastian Kolditz, Paderborn 2013, p. 251; Luttrell, Anthony, The Hospitallers in Cyprus, Rhodes, Greece and the West, 1291–1440. Collected studies (Variorum collected studies series, 77), London 1978, V, p. 201; Id., Studies on the Hospitallers after 1306 (Variorum collected studies series, 874), Aldershot 2007, XVI, pp. 66–67; Bonneaud, The Influential Trade, 2015, pp. 395–397; Ashtor, Levant trade, 1983, ND 2014, pp. 365–367. [↩]
Coureas, Piracy, 2001, p. 200; Ashtor, Levant trade, 1983, ND 2014, p. 391; Balard, Commerce, p. 27. [↩]
Luttrell, Anthony, The Hospitaller State on Rhodes and its Western Provinces, 1306–1462 (Variorum collected studies series, 655), Aldershot 1999, VIII, pp. 177–178, 180; Bonneaud, Le prieuré de Catalogne, 2004, p. 154; Vann, Hospitallers and Piracy on Rhodes, 2013, pp. 251, 260. [↩]
Bonneaud, The Influential Trade, 2015, p. 397. [↩]
ASV.Misti.54.141v. (28.08.1423), l. 24–27, Régestes des délibérations du sénat de Venise concernant la Romanie, vol. II: 1400–1430 (Documents et recherches sur l’économie des pays byzantins islamiques et slaves et leurs relations commerciales au moyen-âge, 2), ed. Freddy Thiriet, Paris 1959, p. 209, reg. 1902; ASV.Misti.54.163v (13.12.1423), l. 2–4, Documents inédits relatifs à l’histoire de la Grèce au moyen âge (Μνημεια Ελληνικης Ιστορις), vol. 1,3, ed. Kōnstantinos N. Sathas, Paris 1882, p. 258, reg. 832, Thiriet, Sénat, vol. II, p. 211, reg. 1913;ASV.Misti.55.125v (13.06.1425), l. 1–4, Thiriet, Sénat, vol. II, p. 228, reg. 1991. [↩]
ASV.Misti.54.141v. (28.08.1423), l. 27–28, Thiriet, Sénat, vol. II, p. 209, reg. 1902; ASV.Misti.54.163v (13.12.1423), l. 4; Sathas, Documents, vol. 1,3, p. 258, reg. 832, Thiriet, Sénat, vol. II, p. 211, reg. 1913. [↩]
ASV.Misti.54.141v. (28.08.1423), l. 28–30, Thiriet, Sénat, vol. II, p. 209, reg. 1902; ASV.Misti.55.125v (13.06.1425), l. 1–2, Thiriet, Sénat, vol. II, p. 228, reg. 1991. [↩]
ASV.Misti.54.141v. (28.08.1423), l. 33–35, Thiriet, Sénat, vol. II, p. 209, reg. 1902; ASV.Misti.54.163v (13.12.1423), l. 13–19, Sathas, Documents, vol. 1,3, p. 258, reg. 832, Thiriet, Sénat, vol. II, p. 211, reg. 1913. Even the local notaries refused to officialy confirm their damages, cf. ASV.Misti.54.141v. (28.08.1423), l. 35–36, Thiriet, Sénat, vol. II, p. 209, reg. 1902; ASV.Misti.54.163v (13.12.1423), l. 19–20; Sathas, Documents, vol. 1,3, p. 258, reg. 832, Thiriet, Sénat, vol. II, p. 211, reg. 1913. [↩]
The senate negotiated with the government of Rhodes for more than a year after the incident to get the grandmaster to restitute the damages, cf. ASV.Misti.54.141v. (28.08.1423), l. 1–2, 24–27, 39–42, Thiriet, Sénat, vol. II, p. 209, reg. 1902, ASV.Misti.55.52v (06.09.1424), l. 1–18; Sathas, Documents, vol. 1,3, pp. 272–273, reg. 848, Thiriet, Sénat, vol. II, p. 220, reg. 1953. It also threatened the Hospitallers with what was likely a reprisal action by the capitano del golfo several times during the negotiations calling Rhodes a port of call for maritime predators, cf. ASV.Misti.54.141v. (28.08.1423), l. 39, Thiriet, Sénat, vol. II, p. 209, reg. 1902, ASV.Misti.54.163v (13.12.1423), l. 24–25; Sathas, Documents, vol. 1,3, p. 258–259, reg. 832, Thiriet, Sénat, vol. II, p. 211, reg. 1913, ASV.Misti.54.167v (30.12.1423), l. 15–19, Sathas, Documents, vol. 1,3, p. 260, reg. 834, ASV.Misti.55.52v (06.09.1424), l. 29–31; Sathas, Documents, vol. 1,3, pp. 272–273, reg. 848; Thiriet, Sénat, vol. II, p. 220, reg. 1953. [↩]
ASV.Commemoriali.9.141v, l. 1–8, 26–29. Libri.9.142r, l. 1–10, 12–28. [↩]
ASV.Misti.54.167v (30.12.1423), l. 6–13, 15–19; Sathas, Documents, vol. 1,3, p. 260, reg. 834. Likely because the Hospitaller government was too weak to get the restitution payment back from its predator. [↩]
ASV.Misti.54.167v (30.12.1423), l. 13–15; Sathas, Documents, vol. 1,3, p. 260, reg. 834. [↩]
ASV.Misti.54.167v (30.12.1423), l. 4–6; Sathas, Documents, vol. 1,3, p. 260, reg. 834. [↩]
ASV.Misti.54.167v (30.12.1423), l. 11–13; Sathas, Documents, vol. 1,3, p. 260, reg. 834; ASV.Misti.55.125v (13.06.1425), l. 8–16; Thiriet, Sénat, vol. II, p. 228, reg. 1991. [↩]
ASV.Misti.55.125v (13.06.1425), l. 1–5, 13–16; Thiriet, Sénat, vol. II, p. 228, reg. 1991. [↩]
ASV.Misti.55.125v (13.06.1425), l. 5–16; Thiriet, Sénat, vol. II, p. 228, reg. 1991. [↩]
ASV.Misti.54.141v. (28.08.1423), l. 39–42; Thiriet, Sénat, vol. II, p. 209, reg. 1902; ASV.Misti.55.125v (13.06.1425), l. 13–16; Thiriet, Sénat, vol. II, p. 228, reg. 1991. [↩]

“[multum] aliud importat” – Venetians, Catalans and Maritime Predators

Laurin Herberich, Ruprecht-Karls-Universität Heidelberg

Zusammenfassung: Zu Beginn des 15. Jahrhunderts waren katalanische Seefahrer für ihre kaltschnäuzigen räuberischen Aktivitäten im östlichen Mittelmeerraum bekannt. Aber wenn es darum ging, Seeräuber zur Rechenschaft zu ziehen, war auch die Republik Venedig nicht zimperlich. Denn einen Gesichtsverlust konnte sich die Serenissima im wahrsten Sinne des Wortes nicht leisten. Rückerstattung und Auslieferung wurden daher ohne Rücksicht auf den Kontext der einzelnen Fälle eingefordert. Mit dieser im Rahmen seines Dissertationsprojektes entstandenen Fallstudie zeigt Laurin Herberich anhand zweier bisher unbeachteter Fälle von Seeraub in rhodischen Gewässern, dass das Phänomen „mittelalterlicher Seeraub“ nicht ausreichend empirisch erforscht ist. Um dem Abhilfe zu leisten, werden anschließend Quellencorpora und schließlich ein nicht nur technologisch, sondern auch methodisch neuer Ansatz ihrer zeitökonomischen Erschließung vorgeschlagen.

^{Iberome.Herberich.18.11.21_Deutsch}

Abstract: At the beginning of the fifteenth century Catalan seafarers were well-known for their ruthless predatorial activities in the Eastern Mediterranean. But when it came to bringing maritime predators to justice, the Republic of Venice wasn’t of the faint hearted either. Because the Serenissima could quite literally not afford to lose face, restitution and extradition were demanded no matter the context of the individual case. In this preliminary case study PhD student Laurin Herberich shows with the help of two hitherto unconsidered incidents of maritime predation in the waters of Rhodes that our current understanding of the phenomenon of medieval maritime predation is lacking on an empirical level. He therefore suggests corpora of source material and a not only technologically, but also methodically new approach for their time-efficient exploitation.

Nihil aliud importat nisi […] omnes male dispositos cum bonis aliorum ad terram suam se reducere!”¹ this was the reason the Venetian senate gave for the similar consequences two men ought to bear for their predatory behaviour at sea, when it sent its envoy Bartholomeo Storlato on a diplomatic mission to Rhodes in August 1423. The “robbers” should be extradited and their “loot” restituted. But were there, apart from the category of their crime, any other similarities between the two incidents that would legitimise those consequences? A closer look at the protocol of the senate session provides the different micro contexts Bartholomeo had to ignore:

The first maritime predator, a transport operator of unkown origin by the name of Clarius Archangelus, left Alexandria a year and a half earlier with his cargo bound for the port supposedly agreed upon with his Venetian employers. But he had headed for Rhodes instead. To the surprise of the senate Clarius gained the protection of the Knights of Saint John by referring to a letter of protection from the order, called “fidantia”. Since then Clarius had refused the restitution of the stolen cargo and the order his extradition already once. Now it was Bartholomeo’s job to demand both for the second time. For in spite of the heat the order was willing to take for Clarius, the senate speculated that both wanted to profit off Venice’s loss.² The protocol even muses “cum quanta inhonestate possunt […] allegare […] fidantiam […] Clario factam”.³

The second man, a Catalan seafarer called Moysius, had, according to the senate, robbed Venetian merchants roughly a month ago in Rhodes harbour. Despite of him and his crew even trading with what were quite probably stolen goods right after the incident, the Grandmaster had refused to help his Venetian prey. Because the Serenissima couldn’t accept such disrespect, Bartholomeo was to demand restitution and the extradition of Moysius from the order.⁴ Even though Venice didn’t intend to let the Hospitallers off the hook easily, by the end of December 1423 the envoy made the order a tempting and ultimately successful offer: Because a settlement in favour of either party would have had positive consequences for the Catalans only, both would fare better by demanding restitution from their overlords, the Crown of Aragon: “potius erimus contenti […] satisfactionem habere a catellanis, quam a conventu suo.”⁵

Apart from the category of their crime being maritime predation both men were very different indeed. Why this one similarity was enough to cause identical demands for restitution and extradition can be answered looking at the macro context: In the year 1423 Venice had a firm grip on the trade routes and economic spheres of the eastern Mediterranean through her stato da mar.⁶ The trade volume occupied by her hegemonic position attracted maritime predators and competitors of different shapes and sizes. Be it the Genoese or the Catalans or trans-imperial actors, they liked to use Rhodes as a base for their operations.⁷ And the order even provided them with licenses for predatory action from at least 1413 onwards.⁸ Under these circumstances both incidents were not simply cases of maritime predation but occasions to diplomatically negotiate political power. It didn’t even matter, if the senate’s narrative of the incidents was faulty or not. Whoever gave way in the restitution case would not only suffer financially, but more often than not also politically in the present and future by creating a precedent.

But even though our current knowledge about the macro context can explain Venice’s reaction to this one similarity, our lack of understanding of maritime predation itself really shows as soon as we stray from Venice’s narrative and ask questions about the micro contexts of the incidents.

Here, differences between the two maritime predators themselves and in their treatment by the different entities involved raise questions in five key fields of research. The first of them is the handling of incidents like these by political entities. For example: Based on which factors did the Crown of Aragon actually decide to trust evidence in a restitution case,⁹ if it was so easy to manipulate according to the Venetian senate? Why was Venice seeking restitution from Clarius himself and did not team up with the order to demand it from his sovereign like in the case of Moysius? Why didn’t the order use the same “fidantia”-argument it used in the case of Clarius to excuse itself in the case of Moysius?

The second field of research regards their involvement in networks of maritime predation, because even though Clarius seems to have operated regularly in the Alexandria area, he doesn’t seem to have been attributed a “nationality” like his contemporary Moysius. Were geographical, linguistic or habitual criteria decisive for these kinds of attribution to one or the other political entitiy?

A third field is the method of both predators. Clarius was seemingly committing what can be described as fraudulent thievery. In contrast the described conduct of Moysius can be characterised as a violent robbery. But which of these two cases is more characteristic for the phenomenon of maritime predation?

Fourthly the two incidents differ in their geographical setting. Clarius “stole” his booty in Alexandria, whereas Moysius “robbed” the Venetians directly in Rhodes. But was this combination of crime scene, hideout and market common or did most other maritime predators try to change locations like Clarius?

The fifth field is their social and economic profile. Clarius was apparently a transport operator (“factor”)¹⁰ and probably owned one ship. Moysius on the other hand, even called a “deroba[tor]”,¹¹ seems financially better situated with two ships and a crew big enough to “rob” the Venetian merchants. But were these men professional or just part-time maritime predators?

Luckily, we have been blessed with archives full of source material to empirically amend our lack of understanding. Unluckily, this poses the problem of time-efficiency. To tackle it a future project on maritime predation should firstly focus on the archives of the four most important maritime powers of the medieval Mediterranean: the ones of the republic of Genoa,¹² the Crown of Aragon,¹³ the order of the Knights of Saint John¹⁴ and the republic of Venice.¹⁵ Secondly the technological advantages of a database oriented project could help to connect the traces left by predators in different archival records. An approach like this would not only be time-efficient by enabling multiple researchers to connect their finds from different archives simultaneously, but also represent a new method to grip medieval trans-imperiality.

By conducting an empirical comparative study like this, one could expand the micro contexts of these two incidents by explaining their differences in the five mentioned fields of research and through that our understanding of Mediterranean maritime predation on the whole. We could ensure furthermore, that not only one entity controls the narrative so that possibly misunderstood thieves like Clarius won’t get mixed up with seemingly violent robbers like Moysius in the future. Because unlike for Bartholomeo back then, in researching the phenomenon of maritime predation today it should apply that despite similar consequences “[multum] aliud importat”.¹⁶

Photo: Grünenberg, Konrad von, Beschreibung der Reise von Konstanz nach Jerusalem, Bodenseegebiet ca. 1487, in: Cod. St. Peter pap. 32, folio 20v–21r, URL: [https://digital.blb-karlsruhe.de/7061] (18.11.2021).

ASV.Misti.54.141v. (28.08.1423), l. 14; Vgl. Régestes des délibérations, Bd. II, S. 209, Reg. 1902. [↩]
cf. Ibid., l. 1–20; cf. Rdd, Bd. II, p. 209, Reg. 1902. [↩]
Ibid., l. 13; cf. Rdd, Bd. II, p. 209, Reg. 1902. [↩]
cf. Ibid., l. 24–42; cf. Rdd, Bd. II, p. 209, Reg. 1902. [↩]
cf. ASV.Misti.54.167v (30.12.1423), l. 4, 6, 9, 11–17; cf. Bd. 1,3: CSPA, Reg. 834, p. 260. A victorious Venice would provide the Catalans with a sense of security, because they could expect the order to pay for their stolen goods in doubt. A victorious order would mark Venetian merchants as fair game for Catalan maritime predators. [↩]
Coulon, The Commercial Influence of the Crown of Aragon, 2017, p. 281; Ferrer i Mallol, La Mediterrània dels segles XIII al XV, 2004, p. 156; Katele, Captains and corsairs, 1986, pp. 45–46. [↩]
Coureas, Piracy, 2001, p. 200; Ashtor, Levant trade, 1983, ND 2014, p. 391; Balard, Le Commerce en Méditerranée, 2013, p. 27; Bonneaud, The Influential Trade, 2015, p. 396; Luttrell, The Hospitallers in Cyprus, Rhodes, Greece and the West, 1978, V, pp. 202, 204. [↩]
Luttrell, The Hospitaller State on Rhodes, 1999, VIII, pp. 177–178, 180; Bonneaud, Le prieuré de Catalogne, 2004, p. 154; Vann, Hospitallers and Piracy on Rhodes, 2013, pp. 251, 260. [↩]
cf. ASV.Misti.55.125v (13.06.1425); cf. Rdd, Bd. II, p. 228, Reg. 1991; cf. ASV.Misti.54.141v. (28.08.1423), l. 17–18; cf. Rdd, Bd. II, p. 209, Reg. 1902. [↩]
ASV.Misti.54.86r (24.02.1422), l. 1; cf. Bd. 1,3: CSPA, Reg. 810, p. 243; cf. Rdd, Bd. II, p. 200, Reg. 1872. [↩]
cf. Ibid., l. 33; cf. Rdd, Bd. II, p. 209, Reg. 1902. [↩]
Archivio di Stato di Genova, online: http://www.archiviodistatogenova.beniculturali.it/index.php?it/167/inventari-digitalizzati. [↩]
Archivo de la Corona de Aragón, online: http://censoarchivos.mcu.es/CensoGuia/inventario dinamico.htm. [↩]
Luttrell, The Hospitallers of Rhodes, 1980, pp. 245–247; Vann, Hospitallers and Piracy on Rhodes, 2013, pp. 251, 254–255, 257–260. Which could be supplemented with digitalised microfilms of the Hill Museum and Manuscript Library. cf. Online Resources for the Study of Manuscript Cultures, HMML: Series 2, 4, 5, 7, 10, https://www.vhmml.org. [↩]
Archivio di Stato di Venezia, Moreveneto, Patrimonio, Serie riprodotte http://asve.arianna4.cloud/patrimonio/448 b1163-8279-467b-9094-358f38826387/repubblica-di-venezia-12-magg-1797. [↩]
ASV.Misti.54.141v. (28.08.1423), l. 14; cf. Rdd, Bd. II, p. 209, Reg. 1902. [↩]