Women in the Order
The Templars are undoubtedly one of the most well-known groups from the medieval world—endlessly studied, depicted in countless novels and films as both heroes and villains. Their bravery and piety are praised, their mysterious nature examined, their morality questioned, and their divine purpose weighed against their worldly wealth. It seems that every aspect of the life and history of the Templars is shrouded in mystique. How could I offer something that isn’t just a repeat of well-trodden ground? I found the answer not in an unexplored niche, but in two that were closely connected by two historical figures. The first is Reconquista Spain in the 12th to 13th centuries. Strangely, despite the vast scope of that land and its turbulent history, it is touched upon sparingly in English literature, presumably because the allure of the great Crusades in the Holy Land somewhat overshadows what was happening simultaneously on the Iberian Peninsula, especially where the Templars are concerned, as they were formed in Jerusalem as a direct result of the ongoing struggles in the Middle East. However, it’s worth remembering that the Templars were an international organisation, despite their initial focus on the Holy Land. Their political and administrative heart shifted and sometimes centred more on France than anywhere else. While Richard of England and Philip of France secured their places in history at Acre, and the Templars shared in the disaster that was the Battle of Hattin, their order was also active in Iberia. It is misleading to speak of Spain at this time, as there was no such unified entity. At the end of the 12th century, Spain was a collection of Christian and Arab states that were sporadically at war with one another. The Reconquista was not a continuous advance south by combined Christian forces but was more reminiscent of what was occurring in the Holy Land. While France and England, along with other nations and orders, launched nine Crusades over two centuries, rival Christian kings in Iberia waged their own campaigns, occasionally seizing new territory and pushing back the line of Arab control, often with disastrous outcomes. The Christian kingdoms of Portugal, León, Castile, Navarre, and Aragon were as frequently at odds with one another as they were united against the Moors. What had once been a collection of individual Moorish taifas, each led by an emir, was now overrun by zealous new invaders from Africa, the Almohad Caliphate. Only one independent taifa remained in the Balearic Islands; the rest of Islamic Iberia was united and turned against a fragmented Christian world. As such, it is no surprise that the Reconquest of Iberia was a slow and painful process that took over seven centuries. Here is where we find a niche for the Templars. In this famous order, we have a fighting force of dedicated, ready-made warriors whose loyalty lay with God and the Pope, not with any individual nation. As such, they were a useful tool for the Iberian kings in the Reconquista. In exchange for land and power, they would lend their lances and spears to the fight against the Almohads. Thus, the Templars spread throughout the Christian lands of Iberia, sometimes gaining significant influence, as seen in the striking will of Alfonso I of Aragon, who bequeathed everything to the Templars, the Hospitallers, and the Order of the Holy Sepulchre. The Templars had their niche, but Iberia was a challenging land for them at the end of the 12th century. In other countries, their order amassed manpower, land, and wealth at a surprising pace—enough to eventually make kings jealous and lead to their downfall. Iberia, however, was different. Centuries of wars against the invaders and bloody conflicts in the north had left a land considerably poorer in resources and manpower than it should have been. Moreover, a significant portion of the workforce in the Christian lands consisted of converted Moors or slaves. We should also not forget the substantial Jewish population. On the Iberian Peninsula, the Templars' houses often differed somewhat from those in other countries. Records from Spain show that Templar lands were managed and cultivated by Moors and Jews. The Order certainly had Moorish slaves, but there are surprising documents detailing transactions between the Templars and groups against whom they would ostensibly have been naturally opposed. This is the intriguing world I discovered when I began looking at the Templars in Spain—a world where the rules of the Order may have been bent more significantly than elsewhere out of sheer necessity. This brings us to the connecting point and the two figures that tie these two niches together: Templars in Spain and Templar women. It will surprise many to know that there were women in the Order of the Temple. After all, they were the Templars, whose mission was to serve as the Church's sword arm, protecting pilgrims from heathen raiders. What place could women have in the Order? The official answer is: none. The Rule of the Order, drawn up by Saint Bernard of Clairvaux, specifically forbade women and went so far as to establish rules to keep members of the Order as far away from the temptation of women as possible. There could be no female Templars. And yet, in Mühlen in Austria, we find a Templar convent, officially designated as such. Moreover, in the cartularies of Templar houses, there are many records of female members of the Order, at least at the associated level of Consoror or Donat (lay sisters or women affiliated with the Order through donations). This alone is interesting enough to be considered central, but further investigation into the role of women in the military orders brings forward the two figures mentioned earlier, and their existence is surprising. Ermengarda of Oluja joined the Order of the Temple along with her husband, Gombau, donating land. They were clearly placed in separate houses, and Gombau disappeared from the records a few years later. Ermengarda, however, is unique. She is listed in documents as a Sister of the Order—not a lay sister, consoror, or donat, but a sister, the presumed equivalent of a full brother. This alone is astonishing, but there is more to come; it shatters all preconceptions about the Templars, for historical records indicate that Ermengarda was referred to as a preceptrix, commanding the house of Rourell in Catalonia. Thus, we have not only a female Templar, which was against the rules, but she is not a peripheral figure. She is a dynamic presence in the Order of that region, even commanding a small Templar convent. This is the sort of figure that legends are made of. Moreover, there is another account where Ermengarda admitted a woman named Titborga as a sister into Rourell. This discovery highlights the simple fact that not everything about the Templars is known; the information does indeed exist, and digging into history makes it increasingly clear that things were not always as they are usually assumed. These evidences clearly demonstrate that the rule was written, but the Order retained the privilege of acting according to their insights and did not merely accept orders. The presence of women in the Order opens doors for further research.