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Al-Manṣūr, Sampiro of Astorga and the origins of Iberian Interpretative Patterns for Christian-Islamic Conflicts in the 11th century

Mats Pfeifer, Universität Bamberg

Abstract: This contribution will attempt to construct a plausible argument for the origins of the 11th-century interpretations of Christian-Muslim conflicts on the Iberian Peninsula and will trace their transmission and further development. In this context, it is of particular importance to emphasise a source or more accurately a period whose significance in this process has hitherto been overlooked,1 but which, as will be shown, represents a crucial missing link in this development.

The Iberian interpretation towards the end of the 11th century and solutions proposed by research

From the mid-11th century onwards, the outstanding evidence for the Iberian interpretation of the conflict can be found in elaborate, highly religious, schematic depictions of events in the acts of consecration or donation for cathedrals in cities that had been recently conquered or rebuilt.2

A common thread running through all these testimonies is the interpretation of the conflict in terms of a providentialist scheme. This structure of history can be roughly divided into four phases: (1) the prominent position of a city in Christendom,

(2) the loss of this position, caused by the sins of the people,

(3) the reconquest of the territory, made possible by the renewed granting of God’s grace and

(4) the restoration of the church and thereby the expansion of Christianity.

In recurrent research it is frequently proposed that a European influence from outside the peninsula may have been a factor in the development of this interpretation, for example through the increasing installation of French-born clerics and monks in Iberian monasteries or bishoprics – particularly in connection with Cluny – or the direct influence of the reformed papacy.3

However, as evidenced by the emergence of the Iberian interpretation as early as the 1040s, these hypotheses are not suitable for explaining this phenomenon as all previous explanatory approaches in research only apply from around the 1060s. It thus follows that the supposed influence of these factors can still be largely ruled out for the testimonies analysed here. Instead, specific Iberian factors can and should be invoked.

Alternatives: Asturian origins and their transmission in the 10th and 11th centuries

These may be described as the Iberian interpretative patterns‘ Asturian origins. In particular, this refers to the so-called Asturian Chronicles, which were composed around 880 in close connection with the royal court.4 The historiographical programme of these chronicles is centered on the depiction of the Asturian kingdom and its rulers as the legitimate successors of the Visigothic kingdom based on a world view that scholars refer to as neo-Gothicism. The chronicles offer a common explanation of the complete defeat of the Visigoths by the Muslims, which is based on a providentialist motif. According to this scheme, which echoes the narratives of the 11th century, the once God-supported greatness of Gothic rule on the Iberian Peninsula was destroyed by the attack of the Muslims as divine punishment for the sinfulness of the Goths. Concurrently the narrative posits that this humiliation would be followed by an ascent based on God’s never fully withdrawn mercy which would ultimately lead to the restoration of the former status.5

The interpretation of the conflict with the Muslims, as presented in the Asturian Chronicles, thus anticipates central aspects of the scheme that recur in the documents of the 11th century. Consequently, it lends itself as a basis for these ideas. However, there is still a gap of at least 125 years between these two points that requires further investigation.

During the 10th century, the transmission of the Asturian Chronicles was initially accomplished primarily through the production of copies and the editing and updating of the chronicles, which can be most clearly observed in the Kingdom of Pamplona-Navarra.6

But two problems still remain unsolved. Firstly, a direct chronological link remains missing. Additionally, the further developments of the Asturian interpretation in the sources of the 11th century remain unaccounted for. First and foremost, the neo-Gothicist interpretation was superseded in the 11th century by an interpretation based more on the religious contrast: The focus shifted from the restoration of the Visigothic kingdom, to the the restoration of Christian rule and order. Therefore, I will now address the final piece of the puzzle, the missing link: The so-called Chronicle of Sampiro, its author and the period represented by both of them.

The Missing Link: Al-Manṣūr and Sampiro

The person we may in all probability refer to as the author of the chronicle was probably a witness and author of Leonese royal charters from 990 onwards. Towards the end of his life, Sampiro then served as Bishop of Astorga from 1034-41. His rise to this position is in turn closely linked to the Navarrese takeover of León in the 1030s.7

The chronicle he wrote is the only one that records the period between around 880 and 1000 from a Christian perspective. As such, it is of outstanding importance for the questions of interest here. The precise date of composition is uncertain, but it is clear that the work was completed no earlier than the year 1000.8

It is evident that Sampiro’s work was significantly influenced by al-Manṣūr’s campaigns in the Christian north.  They not only brought about the first significant Muslim expansion since the conquest of 711, but also, to a certain extent, a de facto subordination of the Christian kingdoms. The decades around the turn of the millennium were thus characterised by the clear military superiority of the caliphate and the inability of the Christian realms to mount any sort of counter-reaction.9

So how do Sampiro’s chronicle and al-Manṣūr’s campaigns fit together and to what extent do they constitute the missing link we are looking for? To explain this, I will draw upon Paul Chevedden’s concept of a “Holy War Reaction” which he has illustrated by employing, among others, the example of the Muslim base in Fraxinetum, located in the south-east of present-day France.10 The capture of Maiolus, the abbot of Cluny, by the Muslims living there in 973 was the catalyst for a coalition of local Christian forces that finally destroyed the Muslim base.11 Chevedden has now described this process as a “Holy War Reaction” which he defined as a reaction following a triggering impulse from the opposing side, which is characterised by a religious charging of the conflict. He also observed a comparable process in the military response of Iberian Christians to the dissolution of the Cordovan Caliphate following the death of al-Manṣūr and his son.12

Similarly, the heightened religious fervour evident in the interpretation of the conflict may also be attributed to an impulse of the Muslims, namely the campaigns of al-Manṣūr. In this context, it can be argued that Sampiro’s chronicle represents a kind of written “Holy War Reaction” to these expeditions.

This is most evident in the portrayal of the peak of the raids in the context of the reign of Vermudo II, which Sampiro himself witnessed. His statements demonstrate his adherence to older patterns of interpretation on the one hand and his intensified religious interpretation of the conflict in the wake of al-Manṣūr’s attacks on the other.13

Describing the events, Sampiro reports that a large number of Saracens had invaded their territories due to the sins of the Christian people and destroyed everything there, for example monasteries and churches. The Muslims even sought to destroy the tomb of St. James the Apostle, but were ultimately deterred from doing so. Despite all these hardships, however, Sampiro’s report also expresses the conviction that God was already fighting on their side again, as he declares that God himself remembered his mercy and took revenge on his enemies – a formulation and an image that are strongly reminiscent of the forms used in later documents. In addition to the Muslims being killed by the sword or other sudden deaths, Vermudo also succeeded, with the assistance of God, in restoring the sanctuary of St. James to a better state than before.14 This interpretation is particularly noteworthy in light of the fact that Vermudo’s reign was the most severely affected by the Muslim attacks.

In summary the portrayal of Christian-Iberian history based on a providentialist scheme is once again evident in Sampiro‘s text: The Christians are afflicted by al-Manṣūr‘s raids because of their sins. Ultimately, however, the re-granting of God’s mercy results in the defeat of the Muslims and the restoration of the church under the guidance of a king whom God has chosen. In response to al-Manṣūr, Sampiro thus offers a new emphasis on the religious character of the struggle against the Muslims.15 He depicts it as a fight against the enemies of God and for the preservation and expansion of his church, in which he himself intervenes at least indirectly. Furthermore, the density of this interpretation and the more Christian than neo-Gothicist tone are noteworthy, particularly in comparison to the Asturian Chronicles, and already hint towards the later documents.16

If Sampiro and his work are also placed in their chronological context, it becomes evident that the chronicle also forms a “missing link” in this sense. Sampiro’s life span (born before 990 when he was first mentioned at the court of León; died probably shortly after his last mention in 1042)17 not only bridges the gap that still exists between the production of the oldest surviving copies of the Asturian Chronicles and the later charters, but also encompasses and connects both phases directly.

The same can be said of the political upheavals of the time.18 Sampiro’s life not only connects the Asturian-Leonese period with the Navarrese, but also spans the phase from the raids of al-Manṣūr to the collapse of the caliphate and the beginning of Christian expansion with the accompanying formulation of the interpretation already laid out by Sampiro.

Conclusion

Therefore, what can the inclusion of Sampiro’s chronicle achieve that the Asturian Chronicles and their copies could not? It provides evidence of an ‘active’ and continued transmission, further development and dissemination of the Asturian interpretation. Furthermore, it represents an ideological and temporal link between two dynasties and interpretations and lastly offers a decisive intermediate step in and an explanation for the religious charge in the 11th century. Sampiro and his chronicle thus occupy a pivotal position in the evolution of the Iberian and, by extension the development of the interpretation of Christian-Islamic conflicts as a whole.

In conclusion, the following picture emerges: A scheme for interpreting the conflicts with the Muslims had already been formulated in Asturias in the 9th century. This scheme had the restoration of the Visigothic kingdom as its central goal. Around the turn of the millennium, there was a profound sense of helplessness in the face of al-Manṣūr’s attacks. This led to the conflict becoming increasingly fuelled by religion. Initially that was felt only gradually, which was probably due not least to the need to consolidate the Christian realms themselves.  This phase was followed almost immediately by the collapse of the caliphate and thus the fragmentation of the Islamic sphere of power. The following practice of Christian territorial expansion led to the formulation of the religiously charged perception of the battle, in which the Asturian interpretation was still firmly anchored, but which was intensified both qualitatively and quantitatively as a result. The Chronicle of Sampiro plays an important role as an intermediate step in this process, maintaining the older interpretation while also linking it to subsequent developments. In addition to this significant role of Sampiro’s chronicle, al-Manṣūr’s plundering represents a plausible reason for the new quality of the battle as perceived by contemporaries.


Photo: Beginning of the Chronicle of Sampiro in the oldest manuscript of the Historia Silense (15th century), in: Biblioteca National de España, MSS/1181, fol. 27r, URL: [http://bdh.bne.es/bnesearch/detalle/bdh0000267142#] (06.01.2025).

  1. The only real exception is F. Fernández-Armesto, ‘The Survival of a Notion of Reconquista in Late Tenth- and Eleventh-Century León’, in T. Reuter (ed.), Warriors and Churchmen in the High Middle Ages: Essays presented to Karl leyser (London, Rio Grande, 1992), pp. 123–43. []
  2. See the most recent overview in N. Jaspert, ‘Eroberung – Rückeroberung – Glaubenskampf – Gotteskrieg: Die Levante und die Iberische Halbinsel im Vergleich’, in H. Kamp (ed.), Herrschaft über fremde Völker und Reiche: Formen, Ziele und Probleme der Eroberungspolitik im Mittelalter, Vorträge und Forschungen 93 (Ostfildern, 2022), pp. 249–89, at pp. 257–9. []
  3. See lastly Jaspert, ‘Eroberung – Rückeroberung – Glaubenskampf – Gotteskrieg’, p. 260. []
  4. The most recent edition of the texts can be found in: Chronica hispana saeculi VIII et IX, ed. Juan Gil (Corpus Christianorum. Continuatio Mediaevalis LXV), Turnhout 2018. []
  5. On depiction of Christian-Islamic conflicts in the Asturian Chronicles, see in particular A.P. Bronisch, Reconquista und Heiliger Krieg: Die Deutung des Krieges im christlichen Spanien von den Westgoten bis ins frühe 12. Jahrhundert, Spanische Forschungen der Görresgesellschaft. Zweite Reihe 35 (Münster, 1998), pp. 124–56. []
  6. On the reception of the Asturian Chronicles and their significance for legitimisation in Navarre, see: A. P. Bronisch, ‘Heiliger Krieg zwischen Weltanschauung und Propaganda am Beispiel der christlichen iberischen Reiche (6.-11. Jh.)’, in K. Herbers, A. Nehring and K. Steiner (eds), Sakralität und Macht, Beiträge zur Hagiographie 22 (Stuttgart, 2019), pp. 99–126, at pp. 122–4; H. Sirantoine, Imperator Hispaniae: Les idéologies impériales dans le royaume de León (IXe-XIIe siècles), Bibliothèque de la Casa de Velázquez 58 (Madrid, 2012), pp. 124–9. []
  7. For further information on Sampiro and his life see still: J. Pérez de Urbel, Sampiro, su cronica y la monarquia leonesa en el siglo X (Madrid, 1952), and in addition: M. Durany Castrillo and M. Del Carmen Rodríguez González, ‘El obispado de Astorga en el primer tercio del siglo XI: De Jimeno a Sampiro’, Semata. Ciencias Socials e Himanidades 15 (2003), pp. 187–222, at pp. 219–21. []
  8. On Sampiro’s chronicle, in the absence of an updated complete account, see still Pérez de Urbel, Sampiro. In addition, reference can also be made to various works by Bronisch or Isla Frez. See for example: Bronisch, Reconquista, pp. 159–63; A. P. Bronisch, ‘La sacralización de la guerra en las fuentes de los siglos X y XI y el concepto de guerra santa’, in C. de Ayala Martínez, P. Henriet and J. S. Palacios Ontalva (eds), Orígenes y desarrollo de la guerra santa en la Península Ibérica: Palabras e imágenes para una legitimación (siglos X-XIV), Collection de la casa de Velázquez 154 (Madrid, 2016), pp. 7–29, at pp. 16–20; A. Isla Frez, ‘Building Kingship on Words: Magni reges and sanctus rex in the Asturleonese Kingdom’, Journal of Medieval History 28 (2002), pp. 249–61; A. Isla Frez, ‘La Historia y el discurso sobre la guerra’, E-Spania 14 (2012). The text is quoted here in the version of the so-called Historia Silense from the 12th century, which is preferable to the version of Pelagius of Oviedo in terms of its proximity to Sampiro’s ‘original’ text. The most recent and authoritative edition of that chronicle can be found in: Historia silensis, ed. Juan A. Estévez Sola, in: Chronica hispana saeculi XII, Pars III (Corpus Christianorum. Continuatio Mediaeualis LXXI B), Turnhout 2018. []
  9. For this period see the overview in: P. Sénac, Al-Mansûr: Le Fléau de l’an mil (Paris, 2006), pp. 103–33. []
  10. P. E. Chevedden, ‘Pope Urban II. and the Ideology of the Crusades’, in A. J. Boas (ed.), The Crusader World (Abingdon, 2016), pp. 7–53, at pp. 11–2. []
  11. On the capture of the abbot and the events that followed, see: S. G. Bruce, ‘An Abbot Between two Cultures: Maiolus of Cluny Considers the Muslims of La Garde-Freinet’, Early Medieval Europe 15 (2007), pp. 426–40. []
  12. Chevedden, ‘Urban II.’, pp. 11–2. []
  13. On the interpretation of Sampiro’s account of Vermudo’s reign, see in particular: Bronisch, ‘Heiliger Krieg’, p. 120; Isla Frez, ‘Kingship’, pp. 259–61; Fernández-Armesto, ‘Survival’, p. 137, and with regard to the biblical elements contained therein as well as their interpretation, most recently: P.S. Marschner, Das neue Volk Gottes in Hispanien: Die Bibel in der christlich-iberischen Historiographie vom 8. bis zum 12. Jahrhundert, Geschichte und Kultur der Iberischen Welt 19 (Wien, 2023), pp. 297–301. []
  14. Sampiro, Chronicle, in: Historia Silensis, ed. Estévez Sola, pp. 194–5: Mortuo Raymiro, Veremundus […] accepit regnum pacifice. Vir satis prudens leges a Banbano principe conditas firmauit, canones aperire iussit, dilexit misericordiam et iudicium; reprobare malum studuit et eligere bonum. In diebus uero regni eius propter peccata populi christiani creuit ingens multitudo sarracenorum et rex eorum, qui nomen falsum sibi inposuit Almazor, qualis non antea fuit nec futurus erit, […] et cum omni gente ysmelitarum intrauit fines christianorum et cepit deuastare multa regnorum eorum atque gladio trucidare. […] Deuastauit quidem ciuitates, castella omnemque terram depopulauit usquequo peruenit ad partes maritimas occidentalis Ispanie et Galecie ciuitatem, in qua corpus beati Iacobi Apostoli tumulatum est, destruxit. Ad sepulcrum uero apostoli, ut illud frangeret, ire disposuerat, sed territus rediit. Eclesias, monasteria, palacia fregit atque igne cremauit era M tricessima quinta. Rex celestis memorans misericordie sue ulcionem fecit de inimicis suis. Morte quidem subitanea et gladio ipsa gens agarenorum cepit interire et ad nichilum cotidie peruenire. Rex uero Veremundus a Domino adiutus cepit restaurare ipsum locum Sancti Iacobi in melius. []
  15. This also clearly contravenes the prevailing opinion of some scholars that al-Manṣūr‘s military expeditions did not directly result in an intensified reinterpretation of the conflict in the Christian kingdoms of the north. See for that position especially: P. Sénac, ‘Al-Mansûr et la reconquête’, in T. Deswarte and P. Sénac (eds), Guerre, pouvoirs et idéologies dans l’Espagne chrétienne aux alentours de l’an mil: Actes du colloque international organisé par le Centre d’Études Supérieures de Civilisation Médiévale, Poitiers-Angoulême (16, 27 et 28 septembre 2002), Culture et société médiévales 4 (Turnhout, 2005), pp. 37–50, on Sampiro p. 46. []
  16. See already briefly: A. P. Bronisch, ‘Die westgotische Reichsideologie und ihre Weiterentwicklung im Reich von Asturien’, in F.-R. Erkens (ed.), Das frühmittelalterliche Königtum: Ideelle und religiöse Grundlagen, Ergänzungsbände zum Reallexikon der germanischen Altertumskunde 49 (Berlin, 2005), pp. 161–89, at pp. 186–7. []
  17. The concrete dates around Sampiros early life are almost impossible to pin down. See largely speculative for example: Pérez de Urbel, Sampiro, pp. 19–22. For the dates given here and the associated documents see: Pérez de Urbel, Sampiro, pp. 12–3; 100–104; Durany Castrillo and Del Carmen Rodríguez González, ‘Obispado de Astorga’, p. 221. []
  18. For the historical context which initially saw a rise in Navarrese influence from around 1028 and ultimately resulted in the shift from the previous dynasty to Fernando I, son of Sancho III of Navarre, see for example: B.F. Reilly, The Contest of Christian and Muslim Spain: 1031-1157, A History of Spain (Cambridge, Oxford, 1992), pp. 25–7; Á.J. Martín Duque, Sancho III el Mayor de Pamplona: El rey y su reino (1004-1035) (Pamplona, 2007), pp. 294–7; Sirantoine, Imperator Hispaniae, pp. 136–42. []

Transgressio fidei regiae: High Treason in Visigothic Legislation

Jimena Alejandra Guardia Hernández, Philipps-Universität Marburg

Zusammenfassung: Hochverrat war bei den Westgoten ein so häufiges Verbrechen, dass kirchliches und weltliches Recht gezwungen war, sich damit ausführlich auseinanderzusetzen. Einen spezifischen Begriff für Hochverrat gab es im Westgotischen Recht allerdings nicht. In diesem Beitrag gibt Alejandra Guardia einen Einblick in die mannigfaltige Terminologie, die in westgotischen Rechtsquellen des 7. Jahrhunderts verwendet wurde, um dieses Verbrechen dennoch abzugrenzen.

Resumen: La alta traición era un crimen frecuente entre los visigodos y por lo tanto debía ser tratado en las leyes eclesiásticas y seculares. Sin embargo, no había un término exacto para la alta traición en el derecho visigodo. Aquí quiero presentar las distintas palabras utilizadas para designar este crimen en las fuentes legales visigodas del siglo VII.

Abstract: High treason was a frequent crime amongst the Visigoths, ecclesiastical and secular law had to deal with. However, there was no exact term for high treason in Visigothic law. Here Alejandra Guardia shows how different words werde used to designate this crime in the Visigothic legal sources of the 7th century.

The dissatisfaction of the Visigothic nobility with their kings often led to attacks on the Visigothic ruler: five of the 25 kings who ruled in the Visigothic kingdom between 470 and 710 were assassinated, five were dethroned and five had to face a conspiracy. Already at the end of the 6th century, Gregory of Tours wrote in his Frankish History that the Goths had the detestable habit of murdering their kings when they did not please them anymore, in order to appoint someone who pleased them.1 Furthermore in the middle of the 7th century, the tendency of the Goths to depose their kings was called in the Chronicle of Fredegar “the disease of the Goths”.2

Due to the frequent regicides, dethronements and conspiracies of the nobility in the Visigothic kingdom, the protection of the king’s life was a central topic in the Visigothic legislation. Since the Visigothic monarchy was a weak institution compared to the nobility during the first half of the 6th century, the judicial condemnation of high treason developed only after the king’s power was consolidated. Thus, only after king Leovigild’s (569 – 586) military campaigns against local warlords and king Reccared’s (580 – 601) conversion to Catholicism3 a foundation was laid for a redefinition of the notion of ruler and a new definition of the crimes against him.

In the Visigothic legal sources there is no specific word for high treason, but different concepts for the violation of the loyalty (fides) to the king. The concept of fides referring to the king appeared for the first time in the canon 75 of the fourth council of Toledo (633), which condemned the crimes against the well-being of the king, the anointed of the Lord,4 as a sacrilege.5 This notion of a sacred monarchy developed in the Visigothic kingdom under the doctrine of bishop Isidore of Seville (the leader of the fourth council of Toledo and the most significant writer of the Visigothic kingdom) and was the foundation for condemning high treason in four other councils: the fifth council of Toledo (636),6 the sixth council of Toledo (638),7 the tenth council of Toledo (656)8 and the sixteenth council of Toledo (693).9 In the records of these five councils the loyalty oath to the king was referred to as sacramentum fidei, promissio fidei, iuramentum fidei and its breach was denoted as transgressio, periurium, perfidia, infidelitas, coniuratio.

The Visigothic leges adopted these concepts for the crimes against the king and taking the loyalty oath to him gained importance in the course of the 7th century, as a king Egica’s novel in the Liber Iudiciorum (687 – 702) shows,10 the legal code of the Visigothic kingdom promulgated by king Reccesvinth (649 – 672). The law condemned those who did not take the loyalty oath to the new king. This can indicate that some refused to swear the loyalty oath in order to avoid being bound to the king, since probably only those who had sworn loyalty could be punished for crimes against the ruler. Otherwise, the criminals in question could not be liable for high treason.

Although the attacks against Visigothic kings were a problem until the 8th century, the regicides actually ceased from the middle of the first half of the 7th century on with the promulgation of canones and laws against this crime: all five Visigothic kings who were assassinated ruled before 633, which shows a certain success of the measures against high treason.

The political importance of the consolidation and sacralization of the Visigothic royalty persisted even after its collapse on the Iberian Peninsula, since the rulers of the Christian kingdoms used to trace their ancestry back to the Visigothic kings in order to legitimate their power during the political instability from the 8th to the 10th century. In my dissertation I want to show the survival of Visigothic legislation in the High Middle Ages through the analysis of Castilian and Navarrese legal documents from the 11th and 12th centuries based on the precepts of the Liber Iudiciorum and the records of the Toledan councils, the greatest contribution of the Visigothic kingdom to the legal culture of the Iberian peninsula.


Photo: Codex Vigilanus (1135)

  1. Greg. Tur. Hist. 3,30: Sumpserant enim Gothi hanc detestabilem consuetudinem, ut, si quis eis de regibus non placuisset, gladio eum adpeterent, et qui libuisset animo, hunc sibi statuerent regem. []
  2. Fred. Chr. 4,82: Cumque omnem regnum Spaniae suae dicione firmassit, cognetus morbum Gotorum quem de regebus degradandum habebant, unde sepius cum ipsis in consilio fuerat quoscumque ex eis uius viciae prumtum contra regibus qui a regno expulsi fuerant cognoverat fuesse noxius […]. []
  3. The Visigoths were Arians until the year 589. []
  4. Conc. Tolet. 4, Can. 75: Et dum Dominus dicat: ‘Nolite tangere Christos meos’ [Ps. 104,15], et David: ‘Quis, inquit, extendet manum suam in Christum Domini et innocens erit?’ [1 Sam. 26,9]. []
  5. Conc. Tolet. 4, Can. 75: Sacrilegium quippe esse, si violetur a gentibus regum suorum promissa fides, quia non
    solum in eis fit pacti transgressio
    , sed et in Deum quidem in cuius nomine pollicetur ipsa promissio. []
  6. Conc. Tolet. 5, Can. 7: De his qui sibi regnum blandiuntur spe rege supprestite. []
  7. Conc. Tolet. 6, Can. 17: De his qui rege supprestite aut sibi aut aliis ad futurum provideant regnum. []
  8. Conc. Tolet. 10, Can. 2: De non violandis iuramentis in salutem regiam datis. []
  9. Conc. Tolet. 16, Can. 10: De his qui iuramenti sui profanatores extitisse noscuntur. []
  10. Lib. Iudic. 2,1,7: De fidelitate novis principibus reddenda et pena huius transgressionis. []