Countess of Toulouse

Abstract

Constance of France became Countess of Toulouse when she was about twenty-nine years old. Her husband was younger than her and not royal, but with nominal control over a greater geographic area than the Île-de-France. For the first time, we see Constance directly involved in ruling: consenting to documents, writing letters and presenting herself as a lord. This chapter shifts from big-picture politics to the nuanced detail of the archival record, including her use of titles, which gives insight into Constance’s religious sensibilities as well as her relationship with her husband and her involvement in politics. Illustrative were her final days as Countess of Toulouse, when Constance attended the Council of Lombers as representative of her husband and lord in her own right.

During the years of her marriage to Count Raymond of Toulouse (1154–1165), Constance had a much more visible role in Occitania than she had held in England. Importantly, there is more evidence of her life during this period, partly because of the chance survival of historical sources and partly because she was now more involved as the wife of a ruler. Additionally, as sister to the king, she was of a higher rank than her husband and therefore politically useful to him. Constance was acutely aware of these circumstances; no longer the quiet girl in the background of history, she used and advertised her royal status by calling herself regina and emphasized her sibling connection to the King of France to benefit herself and her family.

Constance’s marriage to the Count Raymond of Toulouse, in contrast to her union with Eustace, is relatively well documented as her name is mentioned in several chronicles, charters and letters. The charters, at first glance, show a conventional relationship between her and her husband, namely of a wife consenting to decisions made by her husband. We only have evidence, of course, of the cases in which a wife agreed. The letters, however, tell a different story. It is rare that letters survive, but some of Louis’s correspondence was copied into registers at the Abbey of Saint-Victor and made its way into the Vatican Library, where it remains today.¹ The letters to and from Constance, or concerning her, show a wife who actively used her royal connection to promote the power of her family. The two conflicting images evoked by these different types of evidence remind us to be careful when basing our interpretation of agency, indeed of all history, on limited sources. In this chapter, we will first turn to the evidence of charters in which she appeared with her husband, and then to the letters between her and her brother King Louis in order to show how she made use of her position and titles to harness her power and influence.

In her final act as Countess of Toulouse, Constance appeared at the Council of Lombers, where a group of bonhomines was condemned for heresy in 1165. The extant records of the court findings give us yet another vantage point into Constance’s position as Countess of Toulouse: she is recognized at this meeting as a countess with her own court, acting in her husband’s absence and signing the judgement. Taken together with her charters and letters, Constance is shown to be an active countess involved in the politics of her realm.

The Charters

The charter evidence for Constance’s life as Countess of Toulouse leaves the impression of a wife who must be taken into account, who is financially astute, and who (perhaps surprisingly) does not as yet show any concern for her soul. The evidence for these years (1155–1165) is much more extensive than for earlier periods of her life, as there are eight remaining charters in which she appears alongside her husband, although none by her alone. A total of forty-one charters issued by Raymond are known from this time, which means that Constance was named in 19.5% of them, representing a relatively high participation rate.² This material, however, has some particular characteristics. Six of them involve the alienation of property, one a feudal arrangement, and one a consent to a tax exemption.³ None of these transactions were for the benefit of her soul. If we compare these documents to the ones issued by Raymond alone, it becomes clear that Constance’s consent is present on all but one of his alienations of property. The extant documents suggest that Constance was not—or hardly—involved in the establishment of political arrangements such as promises of faith or peace, or in any arrangements made for the benefit of Raymond’s soul.

The first charter in which Constance appeared was a donation of an exemption of import taxes on goods and tolls on roads and waterways to the monks of Franquevaux, situated in the salt marshes south-west of Saint-Gilles, an area now known as the Camargue.⁴ Raymond made the donation for the souls of his father, his mother, himself and all his kin on the Annunciation of the Virgin (25 March), 1156. According to the charter, Raymond put his donation in the hands of Hugh, abbot of a recently founded Cistercian monastery at Franquevaux, an institution made viable through an initial donation of land north of the Étang (lake) of Scamandre.⁵ The donation was made “at the count’s house in the town of Saint-Gilles … with the praise and counsel of my wife Constance, sister of the King of France.”⁶

The Cistercians’ new approach to a purer religious life resonated with many nobles and they were eager to contribute.⁷ In fact, most remaining evidence of Raymond’s charitable donations between 1155 and 1165 are tax exemptions to these new Cistercian houses: Franquevaux, Grandselve, Fontfroide, Aiguebelle, Boulbonne, Léoncel and Belleperche.⁸ Although the apparent concentration of his efforts on these houses is no doubt partly due to the excellent archival practices of the later Cistercian Order, the limited evidence for charitable donations to other orders at the same time seems to suggest that Raymond had a fondness for the white monks.⁹ Constance, on the other hand, did not show any interest in Cistercian monasticism, nor would she support any Cistercian houses later in life. Her involvement in the donation seems to have been purely because Raymond needed her approval, most likely because the property was part of her dower lands around Saint-Gilles.

About two years later, in 1158, Constance and Raymond exchanged property with the “Holy Hospital of Jerusalem”, also known as the Order of Saint John or the (Knights) Hospitallers. In contrast to the Cistercians, Constance would later in life show great attachment to the Hospitallers. They had originated as a confraternity of a hospital in Jerusalem serving the poor and the pilgrims, but their European headquarters was in Saint-Gilles, where they slowly gained an economic presence.¹⁰ The town of Saint-Gilles, now inland but then a harbour, lay at a crossroads for pilgrims and trade, and there was a regular interchange of people and goods to the Latin East due to its proximity to the Rhône river and the city of Nîmes. Saint-Gilles was also well connected with its hinterland and thus relatively accessible for merchants and pilgrims travelling between Northern Europe and the Mediterranean. The town was thriving as an economic and spiritual centre and coincidentally, it was the original seat of Count Raymond’s family: “Countess of Saint-Gilles” was one of Constance’s titles and the area, as mentioned, probably comprised her dower lands.

Yet despite Constance’s later interest in the Order, this was an economic transaction rather than a religious donation, without any explicit spiritual benefit. The exchange concerned a number of Hospitaller possessions in Vallebrègues, a town on a strategic bend of the river Rhône, which were potentially useful to Raymond for controlling Provence. The Hospitallers were more interested in property that provided agricultural produce or income rather than military advantage, so in April 1158, Guichard Americus, the prior of the Hospitallers at Saint-Gilles, agreed with Raymond and Constance, “domino comite et domina regina”, to the exchange of a number of their possessions in Vallebrègues for agricultural land including some vineyards.¹¹ In September of the same year, a second purely economic transaction with the Hospitallers took place in which Raymond and Constance sold “God, the poor, the brothers and the confratres of the Hospital in Jerusalem” forty modes of land “in the measurement of Saint-Gilles” (which allowed for taking 40 modes of grain for sowing) for a price of hundred marks of pure silver. They promised to give the Hospitallers the land that they still owed them from their earlier exchange, namely twenty modes of newly arable land and enough meadow for the fodder of eight cows. Raymond and Constance attested that they conceded any value over this price to the Hospitallers, possibly at the Hospitallers’ request and in order to avoid any future counterclaims.¹²

In 1160, Constance again appeared alongside her husband in a charter that concerned property in or around Saint-Gilles. It was neither a religious donation nor an economic exchange, but instead a settlement of a long-standing disagreement with the ancient and powerful Benedictine Abbey of Saint-Gilles, an important religious house that had caused the Counts of Toulouse much aggravation. According to legend, the abbey had been founded by the Visigothic King Wamba in the seventh century, after the king had accidentally shot Saint Gilles with an arrow. In the ninth century, the monastery was dedicated to Saint Gilles, who was buried at the site, and ever since, the abbey had been a popular pilgrim site.¹³ Pilgrims brought income but their large numbers in the twelfth century required an extension of the church with an ambulatory. At the same time, the monks decorated their church with splendid sculptures on a new façade (c. 1120–1160). However, increasing wealth and power brought the monks into conflict with the equally ambitious Count Alfons Jordan, Raymond’s father. Count Alfons Jordan tried to settle the dispute over the lordship of Saint-Gilles by first imprisoning the abbot in his castle at Beaucaire, and then only allowing him to leave after the abbot had sworn never to set foot in his abbey again. Pope Calixtus II defended the abbot and excommunicated Count Alfons Jordan until he released the abbot from his vow. The town of Saint-Gilles remained important the counts of Toulouse, because Saint-Gilles was the place of the family’s origin and the locus of its power. So despite the continuous tensions, the monks and the counts had to find a modus vivendi.¹⁴

On 5 May 1160, Raymond and Constance made peace by yielding claims on rights and lands to the Abbey of Saint-Gilles in exchange for a cash payment.¹⁵ According to the charter, “Raymond, in the name of God Count of Narbonne, Count of Toulouse and Marchese of Provence, and Regina Constance, sister of the King of France,” conceded rights “in order to compromise and retreat from the quarrel and the strife that was between us and the monastery of Saint-Gilles over the harbour and the harbour tolls of Saint-Gilles”. The monks paid a high price for the concessions in return: Raymond received 2000 sol. Melg. and Constance another 200 sol. Melg. In addition to the concession of rights, the Abbey of Saint-Gilles bought a large territory from the couple for a price of 4000 sol. Melg.¹⁶

Raymond and Constance’s concession of rights and sale of property may have been governed by a need for money, rather than a position forced upon them by the Abbey of Saint-Gilles. It is not clear for what the cash was needed, but perhaps the count and countess had debts to settle from their defence of Toulouse against Henry II the year before. In separate agreements made during the same year, Constance and Raymond sold the monks of Saint-Gilles land in Bions for which they received 2200 sol. Melg.¹⁷ Raymond also sold the marshes of “fontis cohoperti” (Fontcouverte) to William, prior of the cathedral of Nîmes, for 1000 sol. Melg. in the same year, to which Constance simply assented.¹⁸

Later that year, or in 1161, Constance consents in a charter that is the most striking testament to her pragmatic approach to religious orders at this time. The document recorded a part sale and part religious donation by Count Raymond to the Templars, who also had a house in Saint-Gilles.¹⁹ Raymond sold the brothers and confratres of the “militia of the Temple”, and in particular to Hugh of Barcelona (Prior of Spain and the Provence), Bego [Hugo] of Verrières and Bernard Catalan, “Prior of their house at Saint-Gilles”, sixty arpents of land with their full rights.²⁰ The estates comprised meadows, marshes and arable lands in Argence, extending from the Rhône to the property of the Hospitallers. He received 150 silver marks in return, adding that the full amount had been paid. In addition to the sale, Raymond donated to the Templars a further ten arpents of land for the health of his own soul and for the souls of his forefathers (without mentioning the soul of his wife!). Constance praised and confirmed the sale and the donation made by the count: “And I Queen Constance, sister of the king of the Franks, wife of the same said count, praise and confirm according to what has been said above & the donation & the sale namely [what] by the lord count has been done.” She added that she had accepted from “you, brothers of the said militia of the Temple, 200 sol. Melgoriens”, which was exactly the same amount as she had received for her consent to the transaction with the Abbey of Saint-Gilles.²¹ No benefit to her soul is mentioned, so while the exchange had a spiritual element to it for Raymond, for Constance the exchange was merely a financial transaction in which she was financially compensated for her consent.

The charters give the impression that Constance’s influence was limited to consenting to her husband’s desire to alienate property that pertained to her dower lands. If her dower indeed comprised the County of Saint-Gilles, we should add that they were at the heart of Raymond of Toulouse’s lands and at the core of his family identity. This was not a marginal estate. We should also add that there is only proof for instances of consent, so we have no way of knowing if she ever refused consent. Secondly, the charters do not show any spiritual concern on Constance’s behalf; there is no record of Constance patronizing religious houses or seeking personal spiritual care. This would change later in life, but while she was Countess of Toulouse, her attestation in charters appears pragmatic and secular. Extant letters, however, show that Constance had a larger role to play in politics than the charters give away.

The Letters

Letters dispatched between Occitania and Paris show that King Louis VII wished to increase Capetian authority in the region and that his sister, married to the Count of Toulouse, played a significant role in his designs. We should not overstate his influence; these were only the first careful steps in royal expansion, but from the middle of the twelfth century, Louis slowly let his presence be felt in the area over which he was nominally overlord and king, but over which he held very limited control. Just as King Louis VI had extended his kingship in the region surrounding Paris, Louis VII began reinstating royal power in Occitania through lordship by establishing relationships directly with religious establishments, local lords and towns.²²

An effective way to expand influence at the expense of local lords was via giving churches or monasteries royal privileges in exchange for loyalty. Confirmation of ancient rights was an easy way to do this and had the added advantage of legitimizing Louis’s actions as if he were merely stepping into the footsteps of his ancestor Charlemagne. He started this policy as early as 1154 or 1155 by confirming the rights of the cathedral of Saint-Sernin and Daurade (“given by our ancestor Karolus Magnus”) in presence of Count Raymond V of Toulouse, perhaps in conjunction with the count’s marriage to Constance. ²³ In January of the following year, the king confirmed the privileges of the Bishop of Maguelone and his chapter.²⁴ Maguelone was located on the seafront, just outside Montpellier, and its bishop was therefore a strategic ally against William of Montpellier. Subsequently, and while back in Paris, he would give the same favour to the bishops of Narbonne (1157) and Nîmes (1157), the latter being a city under the control of Bernard Ato, one of the Trencavel brothers and another adversary of Raymond.²⁵

In addition, King Louis took on the role of highest judge (after God). Like the pope, who became the final judge in ecclesiastical cases, King Louis took on this position for secular cases, becoming the judge to whom one could appeal when dissatisfied with the decisions of local judges. This meant that local lords could press their case by trumping their opponent with royal support. In the long run, this meant a gradual erosion of local power in favour of centralized royal authority. A case in point is a complaint raised by the monks of the Cistercian monastery of Escaladieu. In a letter from before 1165, the Abbot of Escaladieu reminded the king that he had charged the men of the city of Toulouse with implementing the king’s resolution in a dispute between them and Raymond of Tarazona.²⁶ The king had awarded a financial compensation to the monks of Escaladieu, but Raymond of Tarazona, instead of paying, had pawned one of his knights as a guarantee. The knight lingered in chains for a long time without the promised payment being honoured until, eventually, his guard set him free. The dismayed abbot once again turned to the king to resolve the case, and he informed Louis that he had already sent a royal messenger to the men of Toulouse and to the king’s sister Constance in order to inform them of the king’s decision. Apparently, the abbot believed that if Constance knew of her brother’s judgement, it would help support the monks’ case. The abbot, however, was forced to return to the king because neither the men of Toulouse nor the king’s sister were obeying, even though the royal messengers “profoundly showed them [Louis’] will in speech and writing.”²⁷

Just as King Louis supported towns in northern France in order to undermine the control of their (intermediary) lord, the French king supported urban communes, and in particular the city and suburbs of Toulouse. The burghers of Toulouse were very grateful for Louis’s intervention in 1159 and would be faithful to him and his sister for a long time thereafter. Letters to Louis make clear that the council of the most prominent burgers of Toulouse kept Constance and her brother in high regard and looked to them for support in case King Henry would return. In 1163, the burghers of Toulouse wrote to Louis once again: “We have heard from friends that the King of England is getting ready to march against us this year … our faith is in you (after God) … we are grateful to you and your sister, our lady.”²⁸

In 1165, after Constance had returned to Paris, the consuls of Toulouse sent a letter to Louis assuring him that some of their most honourable men had been prepared and armed to accompany “our lady, your sister”, on her journey to Louis’ court, but that she had not agreed to this. The consuls wanted Louis to know this, lest he thought the city had been unfaithful to his sister. They assured him that Toulouse was his, and that his nephews were their lords since, “[A]ll our hope is in you after God [Psalm 39:7].”²⁹ In a different letter they asked Louis to send Constance, “our most honourable lady, your sister”, back to them with the two messengers they had sent “as quick as you can, because through her and with her we rejoice, and take courage and are safe”.³⁰ The citizens of Toulouse again called Constance “domina nostra” in recognition of her lordship and saw her as a medium to royal protection.³¹

Constance also had a role to play in King Louis’ relations with Pope Alexander III during his disputed papal reign. In 1161, Abbot Ervisius of Saint-Victor (near Paris) sent a letter to papal legate Cardinal Odo, in which Ervisius explained that he had spoken to the French king regarding Odo’s safe passage to Paris from Sicily, where the pope and his curia were staying. The abbot assured Odo in this letter that the king was willing to give the legate safe passage through his lands, the lands of his barons and “through those lands pertaining to the Count of Toulouse and the count’s wife, his sister”.³² Pope Alexander travelled through to Sicily, but by 1162, when his stay there became untenable on account of the violent opposition by the “anti-pope” Victor IV and his supporters, he decided to go to Montpellier. “I was welcomed most honourably and devotedly”, Pope Alexander wrote to Louis, “by our beloved sons the Count of Saint-Gilles [Count Raymond of Toulouse] and William of Montpellier”. He added, “There was also our beloved son Raymond Trencavel, noble woman Ermengard of Narbonne, and many other barons of the region. The quay of the old harbour and cathedral Maguelone had been too small to hold the crowds.”³³ It is very likely that Constance had been there to meet him too.

The clearest evidence for Constance’s involvement with local politics comes from a series of letters that pertained to the positions of Roger Trencavel and Berenguer of Puisserguier. Louis had used his royal status as overlord to enforce a peace between Count Raymond, Viscount Roger Trencavel and Viscountess Ermengard of Narbonne in 1162 or 1163.³⁴ When Raymond Trencavel asked the king for the freeing of some of his men as a favour in return for the peace, Constance sent a letter in his support to “her venerable lord and dearest brother”, King Louis. She asserted in the letter that Raymond Trencavel was “being faithful to my lord count and your nephews” and stated that he had “poured out most fervent prayers over the freeing of his hostages”.³⁵ Raymond Trencavel and Raymond of Toulouse sent similar letters.³⁶

We have no record of Louis’s response to the request, but he certainly did not follow his sister’s requests blindly. In the same year, 1163, Constance supported Berenger of Puisserguier against Ermengard of Narbonne, but her brother did not. Berenger was a knight who controlled tolls on the road between Narbonne and Béziers, and Ermengard had summoned him to her court after he was accused of abusing his position. Berenger, however, refused to accept her judgement and appealed to the king instead, arguing that he could not be judged by a woman.³⁷ Constance supported Berengar against the viscountess, arguing in a letter to her brother that he belonged directly to the king. Ermengard, however, sent her own messengers to King Louis, reminding him that she had been obedient to him since the peace (and quietly implying that this could be reversed!): “You have charged me that I have a firm peace with the count of Toulouse and that I serve him: which I have done and with your grace, two weeks after the Assumption of St. Mary, I shall follow him armed against his enemies, and now and always, unless he ends it, I shall love him firmly for love of you.”³⁸ She now hoped that the king would return a favour and put Berenger back in his place: “I earnestly implore your majesty that you give little trust to his deceptive suggestions but, as is fitting and just, you send him back to me under whose authority he rests.”³⁹ Louis ruled in her favour, assuring her that “no person is permitted to turn away from your jurisdiction because you are a woman.”⁴⁰ The king had the last word and Ermengard gratefully sent him a valuable horse.⁴¹

The letters shed a different light on Constance to most other documents. They show that her marriage did not mean an instant shift of loyalty from the natal family, in whose favour the decision to marry was made, to that of the family of marriage.⁴² However, loyalty to the natal family remained especially important when a woman, like Constance, married a man of lower birth and the wife’s highest status continued to be derived from her parents.⁴³ Over time, and after having produced heirs, a wife’s ties to her marital family would naturally become stronger but, as we see in the case of Constance, she still needed to balance her loyalties between her natal and marital families carefully. The letters also make us aware that judging a wife’s position and agency vis-à-vis her husband from charters only can be misleading, and we should be very careful not to put too much weight on their evidence alone, especially when making broad statements regarding female political power and influence.

Titles and Seals

When Constance sent a letter to her brother in support of Berenguer of Puisserguier, she deliberately used the titles “Countess of Toulouse, Duchess of Narbonne, and Marquess of Provence”. Titles were powerful tools that could be manipulated according to how someone wanted to be perceived. Constance consciously employed titles as the situation required, adjusting the titles she used in her letters, charters, and on her seal to suit her needs.

“Countess of Toulouse, Duchess of Narbonne, and Marquess of Provence” were the official titles that appeared on Constance’s seal, but they do not appear in other correspondence or deeds from this time. Although she usually favoured the title regina and “Sister of the king of France” as titles, in this case, she used “Countess of Toulouse, Duchess of Narbonne and Marquess of Provence” to remind her brother of her high status in the region vis-à-vis the Viscountess Ermengard.⁴⁴ As long as she was in Toulouse, Constance chose to emphasize her royal birth by using regina, but once back in France (from 1165), she preferred the title “Countess of Saint-Gilles” to avoid losing her claim on the region.

Regina means queen, but it can also be translated as “princess” (born of royal blood), which was its primary meaning in classical Latin and a meaning still in use in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, and this is the meaning under which Constance adopted it.⁴⁵ It may have been Saint Radegund’s Vita that inspired Constance to adopt the title “regina”.⁴⁶ Venantius Fortunatus, one of its author, had described the saint as “Sic devota femina, nata et nupta regina” (such a devoted woman, queen by birth and by marriage).⁴⁷ Constance may or may not have been “nupta regina” (queen by marriage), but she was definitely “nata regina” (queen by birth). According to the Vita, she did not need to be a crowned queen to adopt the regina title: She was the daughter of a king, and that was enough. Other women who similarly used the title or were addressed regina because they were daughters of kings were Countess Adela of Flanders (daughter of King Robert I of France, d. 1079), Princess Constance of Antioch (daughter of Philip I of France and therefore Constance’s aunt, d. 1125), Countess Teresa of Portugal (daughter of Alfons VI of Castile and Léon, d. 1130) and Countess Matilda/Teresa of Flanders (daughter of King Alfons I of Portugal, d. 1218).⁴⁸

Some historians believe that Constance used “regina” as title because she had been married to Eustace, who had been crowned alongside his father, but the validity of Eustace’s coronation was disputed, and there is no evidence that Constance was crowned with him.⁴⁹ Eustace was Count of Boulogne from at least 1152 and Constance referred to herself as “Countess” in her donation to the nuns of Cambridge in 1153.⁵⁰ King Stephen, in a separate charter confirming that donation, also called her “Countess Constance.”⁵¹ Constance dropped the title “countess” after her first marriage and used “regina” instead, which had more prestige. This title stuck in the County of Toulouse to the extent that many years later, after Constance had left and her son Raymond (VI) had become count, he would describe himself as “filius reginae Constantiae”.⁵² In addition to using “regina”, Constance added “sister to the king of France” after her name to further emphasize her royal pedigree in almost all charters and letters between 1154 and 1165, even in letters to her brother the king himself.⁵³ On only one occasion did Constance remind her brother that she was not only his “only sister” but also the Marquise of Provence, Duchess of Narbonne and Countess of Toulouse, namely during the mentioned dispute with the Viscountess of Narbonne.⁵⁴ On five other occasions, Constance’s name was accompanied by the title “wife of the count”, without employing the title Countess.⁵⁵ In short, when Constance married Raymond, she left no doubt that she was in Toulouse as regina and sister of the king of France (Figs. 6.1, 6.2, 6.3, and 6.4).

Fig. 6.1

Wax seal of imprint of Constance of France (obverse), depicting an aristocratic woman on a seat. Paris, Archives nationales de France, S 2139, no. 17 (orig.). (Photograph by author)

Fig. 6.2

Wax seal imprint of Constance of France (obverse), depicting an aristocratic woman on a seat. Paris, Archives nationales de France, K 25 no. 5 [3] (orig.). (Photograph by author)

Fig. 6.3

Wax seal imprint of Constance of France (reverse), depicting an aristocratic woman on a horse. Paris, Archives nationales de France, S 2139, no. 17 (orig.). (Photograph by author)

Fig. 6.4

Wax seal imprint of Constance of France (reverse), depicting an aristocratic woman on a horse. Paris, Archives nationales de France, K 25 no. 5 [3] (orig.). (Photograph by author)

Constance’s deliberate and considered use of honorary titles can also be seen in her choice of seal, which used titles that supported territorial claims rather than her social relationships. The battered legend reads: “Constance Marquise of Provence, Duchess of Narbonne”, and on the reverse, “The Seal of Constance Countess of Toulouse”. The titles are accompanied by images of a woman in a position of power.

The two remaining wax imprints of Constance’s seal are damaged but still allow for a good sense of its original appearance. They indicate that the matrix was round and measured about 6.2 centimetres in diameter.⁵⁶ The obverse of the imprint displays Constance on an ornamented throne with two fleurs-de-lys on either side of the high back. She is sitting in a regal manner, her feet sticking out from under her dress and resting, almost together on a stool, knees slightly opened, rich garments flowing around her legs. She wears a long mantle over her dress and a band around her waist. In her right hand, she is holding a fleur-de-lys on a short staff in front of her chest. In her left hand, she is holding an orb to her side. Constance directly faces the viewer while a shoulder-length veil covers her head. In the space behind her, a crescent moon lights the sky to her left, while a star is in the plane to her right. The reverse of the double-sided seal shows Constance riding a gently trotting horse side-saddle. The horse is moving from left to right. Constance is again facing the viewer, albeit slightly at an angle, and she is holding a palm in her right hand. The seal is worn, making it hard to see what, if anything, is in her left hand, which seems to meet her other hand in her lap. Her hair or veil is long and flowing. A cross in the legend centres above her head.

Constance’s seal is extraordinary for its time because it is a very early example of the use of a seal by a countess and its appearance is very different from what would become common. The limited number of French or Anglo-Norman aristocratic women who were using a seal in the twelfth century tended to have a single-sided lens-shaped or vesica seal that displayed them standing up and facing the viewer. Examples of this type are the seal of King Stephen’s Queen Matilda (of Boulogne)⁵⁷; or the seal used in 1152 by Eleanor as “Duchess of Aquitaine and Countess of Anjou”, who is holding a fleur-de-lys in her right hand and a bird in her left hand (according to the copyist)⁵⁸; or the seal of King Philip II’s Queen Isabella (of Hainaut), on which she is holding a staff and fleur-de-lys.⁵⁹ This shape and format becomes the norm for seals used by aristocratic women, while round seals were ordinarily used by lay men.

Male rulers, kings and emperors, tended to display themselves on their seal enthroned, not unlike Constance, although usually their seat is a lower stool. They hold their regalia in a display of power and many wear their crowns. Empress Matilda’s father-in-law, Holy Roman Emperor Henry IV had such a seal, and so did the Kings of France Louis VI, Louis VII and Philip Augustus. The French kings each had a fleur-de-lys in their right hand and a staff in their left hand. King Louis VII, however, had a double seal not unlike Constance’s, (until 1154).⁶⁰ The reverse of his seal portrayed him as duke of Aquitaine in a manner common for non-royal aristocratic men, namely in armour on a cantering horse. His horse is going from left to right and Louis, sitting on his horse, is looking over its head forward. He has his shield in front of him, his right hand has drawn his sword, and he is fully clad in mail. Double-sided seals like this had been in use for a long time by English kings, who used the two sides to portray their double identity—that is, they showed themselves on the one side enthroned as kings of England and on the other side mounted as Duke of Normandy. King Stephen, for example, had a seal on which on one side he was sitting on a throne with a sword in one hand and a globe and bird in the other, while on the reverse he is riding a horse holding a shield and a banner. His seal was a direct imitation of King Henry I’s seal, and King Henry II would opt for very similar imagery except that he chose a sword rather than a banner on the equestrian reverse of his seal (like Louis VII’s).⁶¹

The differences among early seals used by lay aristocrats were in their detail: the wording, and the incorporation of an acceptable number of elements, such as a banner, sword, shield, moon, star, cross, stand, ride or sit, veil, crown or flowing hair. The power embedded in these seals came from their display of continuity rather than innovation. Constance’s feminine version of a male royal seal is therefore surprising. She had, however, one example that we know of to follow, namely the seal of Empress Matilda. Eight impressions of Matilda’s seal remain (out of the eighty-eight documents in original or copied form) but not all are in a good state. The impressions that are kept at King’s College, Cambridge and at the Public Record Office in Kew show Matilda seated on a low throne in the style of emperors and kings. The legend reads: “MATHILIS DEI GRATIA REGINA ROMANORUM…”. Matilda holds a staff in her right hand, while her left hand rests in front of her midriff. Her head is crowned, and her hair is pulled back or veiled—the seal is too damaged to discern fine details.⁶² Given that later Holy Roman empresses had similar round seals, it appears to be the case that she simply retained her seal from her first marriage in order to capitalize on her imperial widowhood.⁶³ Perhaps she intended to issue a new seal once her coronation as Queen of England was fully endorsed and she was no longer merely “domina anglorum”, but a fully reigning queen of the English on her own account.⁶⁴ It is possible that if made queen, she would have designed a double seal, showing herself on the reverse horseback just as her father had done, and the Anglo-Norman kings before him.⁶⁵ Constance, like Matilda, was bold in using a feminized version of a male royal seal for her own purposes (Fig. 6.5).

Fig. 6.5

Wax seal imprint of Empress Matilda (obverse), depicting an aristocratic woman on a seat. Cambridge, King’s College Archive Centre, SJP/19. (Photograph by author)

There is a possibility that seal of Constance was part of a pair of seals used by her and her husband Count Raymond V of Toulouse, which it resembles. Unfortunately, we do not have a pre-1165 imprint of Constance’s seal and we only know of Raymond’s seal through a reconstruction based on a description of an 1165 document and some fragments from 1171—no imprint remains intact.⁶⁶ It seems, however, that he also had a double-sided seal, showing himself enthroned on one side, without a crown and hair half-way down to his ears, a sword on his lap in his right hand and a simple globe in his left hand. In the plane behind him, a crescent moon is to his right. His chair seems to be decorated with two animals, dogs perhaps, or lions. On the reverse, the count, fully armoured, is riding a cantering horse. His lance has a banner. A star adorns the sky. His helmet is topped by a cross, and his shield too is decorated with a cross. According to Nicolas-Claude Fabri de Peiresc (d. 1637), who saw two different versions of his seal, the inscription of the 1163 imprint read “…RA DEI GRA COMES [TOLO]SE MARCHIO PROVINCIE.”⁶⁷ Raymond portrays himself as bringing justice and protection. Constance, holding the fleur-de-lys in her complementary seal, brings justice and provision. The seals were equivalent in size and imagery, suggesting an equality in social status between the spouses.⁶⁸ Both seals were probably heavily influenced by the design of King Louis VII’s pre-1154 double-sided seal, enthroned as King of France on one side, mounted as Duke of Aquitaine on the other.⁶⁹

Constance’s seal is the earliest extant example of its kind. Another contemporary, albeit slightly later, seal is that of Bertha of Staufen, wife of Duke Matthew of Lorraine, which was attached to an 1186 document.⁷⁰ Bertha was the sister of the Holy Roman Emperor Frederick Barbarossa.⁷¹ Her seal was double-sided and round, and it was a complementary seal to that of her son. The seals were equal in size and showed similar images: one side enthroned, the other on horseback—he in armour on a cantering horse, she riding side-saddle in trot.⁷² Incidentally, a bracteate depicting her half-sister Landgräfin Judith (or Jutta) of Thuringia also shows her side-saddle on a trotting horse.⁷³ The similarities between Bertha’s seal and that of Constance are too great to be merely coincidence, so there was probably an earlier example that informed the design of a seal for both women, but an obvious link no longer exists. In later years, a small number of notable women would follow their example and choose a round seal, among them Queen Sancha of Aragon (double-sided equestrian/enthroned),⁷⁴ Countess Agnes of Nevers (wife of Constance’s nephew Peter II of Courtenay),⁷⁵ Countess Alix of Soissons (born of Dreux), Constance’s niece,⁷⁶ and Countess Garsinde of Provence (born of Forcalquier).⁷⁷ Notably, Queen Elizabeth I of England’s great seal used similar imagery though in a grander, sixteenth-century style. Most aristocratic women in England and France in the twelfth century, however, had oval or vesica seals in which they were shown standing.

Despite the prominence of the titles “Marquise of Provence, Duchess of Narbonne and Countess of Toulouse” on Constance’s seal and the possibility that it mirrored the one of her husband, all extant seal imprints date from after the time that Constance left Toulouse and her husband in 1165.⁷⁸ The first extant imprint of a seal belonging to Constance comes from a document dating from between 1165 and 1172 and has long been known.⁷⁹ A second imprint of the same seal appears to have gone unnoticed. It firmly dates to after Constance’s separation from Raymond, as it is attached to a beautifully executed and well-preserved charter of her donation to the Templars in 1172.⁸⁰ The imprint of the seal is damaged, but some details of the image are better preserved than on the first seal, for example of Constance’s robe and the seat. Other references to formerly attached but now lost seals of Constance date to 1171,⁸¹ 1172,⁸² 1173,⁸³ 1178x1179,⁸⁴ 1180⁸⁵ and 1190.⁸⁶ These may or may not have been from the same matrix, as people modified their seals as circumstances required, but for Constance, who separated from but did not divorce her husband legally, it would have been neither necessary nor desirable to alter her seal.⁸⁷

Constance changed her title from “regina” to “countess of Saint-Gilles” as soon as her break with Raymond occurred, presumably because her position as countess was threatened by the alteration of circumstances, and thus she felt it imperative to emphasize her position while in flight.⁸⁸ In this light, holding on to her seal and its titles served to preserve her claim (and that of her children) over Toulouse, Provence and Narbonne in her absence. At the same time, the seal’s majestic imagery affirmed her royal birth. She continued to stress her connection to her brother until he became seriously ill, at which point she added “and daughter of the former King” to her self-description. After her brother’s death, she styled herself Countess of Saint-Gilles and daughter of “King Louis the Elder of the Franks” (Louis VI).⁸⁹

Names and titles were powerful tools. Their manipulation allowed their owners to establish pedigree, social status and political claims. Constance used Countess of Boulogne during her first marriage to the heir apparent of the English throne, regina and “sister of the King of France” during her marriage to the Count of Toulouse, Duke of Narbonne and Marquise of Provence, and ultimately Countess of Saint-Gilles during the final years of her life. Seals allowed for an additional visual portrayal of status and power in addition to the use of titles. Constance successfully embodied her dual status as royal sister of the king of France and wife of the Count of Toulouse through her seal by using a double-sided seal portraying herself on one side regally and enthroned in the manner of kings, and on the other aristocratic and mounted in the manner of counts.

The Council of Lombers

Constance’s presence as domina, already apparent in charters and letters, is further evident in the record of the “Council of Lombers,” at which in 1165 a group of men was condemned for heresy. The region of Occitania had been marked as a haven for heretics since at least the 1140s, when Bernard of Clairvaux and others came to preach in an attempt to draw these errant souls back into the fold. But aside from stimulating the proliferation of Cistercian and Cistercian-inspired monasticism in the region, Bernard had not been fully successful and heretics were believed to still be prevalent in the County of Toulouse. Constance had come to the gathering together with a number of lords and prelates to confront them.

The Bishop of Albi had called for a local council in response to a promulgation made at a plenary church council held at Tours in 1163.⁹⁰Cardinal Boso (d. 1178) recalled in his Life of Alexander how Pope Alexander III had gathered 17 cardinals, 124 bishops, 414 abbots and a great number of other persons at Tours. Many affairs of the Church were discussed there, among them the threat of heresy in the south of France. Heresy, according to Cardinal Boso and others, was like an infection that could only be cured through quarantine. In his words, the plenary council concluded that:

In the districts of Toulouse, a damnable heresy has even now appeared, which like a cancer is gradually spreading to places round about and has already infected Gascony and very many other provinces. While it hides like a snake beneath its own coils and the more silently it creeps about the more serious is the ruin it brings among simple folk to the cause of the Lord. Wherefore we urge all bishops and priests of the Lord who dwell in those parts to watch against this heresy, and under the pain of excommunication for forbid anyone, when the followers of that heresy have been recognized, to grant them refuge in his lands or offer them assistance. Not even in buying or selling should consort be had with them so that when at length the support of men has been lost to them, they may be forced to return to their senses from the error of their ways. And if anyone attempts to resist these decrees let him be anathematized as one who has a share in their inequity.⁹¹

In other words, helping a heretic was considered an act of heresy.

Furthermore, Pope Alexander and his Church went beyond the usual ecclesiastical punishment of excommunication for those who aided heretics and placed the onus on secular lords to proactively eradicate heresy. They resolved that “if catholic princes seize heretics of this sort, let them imprison them and punish them with the loss of all their goods. And since the heretics frequently gather together from various districts into one lair, and have, other than a common error, no reason for living together and yet dwell in a single dwelling, let such conventicles be keenly sought out and when they are discovered let them be forbidden with the severity of the canons.”⁹² Lay lords such as Roger Trencavel, Constance, or even the king of France, were now beholden to seek out and punish heretics.

The Council of Tours’ decision regarding the treatment of heretics was formalized in its statutes as law, regarding the “Condemnation of the heretical sect spreading over regions in the south of France: no one should grant refuge in this territory or offer assistance to members of this group, nor should anyone have commercial dealing with them. If these heretics, who ought to be sought out, are seized, they should be kept in custody by catholic princes, and their goods ought to be confiscated.”⁹³ So once it was suspected that heretics were present in Lombers and received support, it was up to local bishops and lords to seek them out and either bring them back into the Church or, if that failed, condemn them. After the Council of Tours, the Bishops of Albi, Nîmes and Narbonne and other lay and ecclesiastical lords in Occitania could no longer ignore the heretics in their midst so the Bishop of Albi called together a church council during which heresy in the region would be addressed.⁹⁴

Although the text is commonly referred to as The Council of Lombers, it is actually only the report of the confrontation with the heretics and not of an extended church council that has been preserved. This confrontation resembled more a disputation in which opposing views were judged than a trial or court case.⁹⁵ Neither does the original text explicitly say that the council was held at Lombers; it only mentions that the Bishop of Albi called together a meeting to challenge heretics supported by knights from Lombers.⁹⁶ The oldest extant copy of the text (the original is lost), Roger of Howden’s edition, even missed the 1165 date given by the other editions. This date, however, is plausible because it must have been held before Constance travelled back to France (where she was in August 1165) and after Roger Trencavel had made peace with the Count of Toulouse in 1163.⁹⁷

The format of the trial was a disputation to which the accused had agreed, under the condition that they would only be judged by the New Testament and that they were not required to take oaths. The trial could be considered a prototype for the later Inquisition: The accusation before the courts was heresy, an official judicial procedure was used by the Church to question the defence, the defence had an opportunity to defend its point of view, a panel of judges was appointed and a final judgement was made. The findings, judgement and witnesses were recorded, and the pronouncement was expected to be enforced in the lay courts. However, in contrast to what would come in later inquisitional hearings, the defendants were freely outspoken and there was no threat of torture, imprisonment or the burning of heretics.

Constance came to the meeting in the capacity of Countess of Toulouse, both as wife of the count, who for unknown reasons was absent, and as lord in her own right. She joined a large crowd of lay and ecclesiastical elite, the accused heretics, and spectators. We know some of the attendants because, like Constance, they signed the final judgement. Among the prelates, Bishop Gaucelin of Lodève and Bishop William of Albi presided over the meeting.⁹⁸ Abbot Rigald of Castres, Abbot Peter of Ardorel, the Abbot of Candeil and Arnold of Narbonne were the elected judges at the trial.⁹⁹ Their approval of the final sentence of the trial was followed by that of Pons of Arsac, Archbishop of Narbonne, and Adelbert, Bishop of Nîmes.¹⁰⁰ Other local ecclesiastics included Bishop Girald of Toulouse, Bishop William of Agde, Abbot Raymond of Saint-Pons, and Abbot Henry of Galliac (Abbot of Frontvroide), Provost Maurice of Toulouse, Archdeacon R. of Agde, Prior Guido of Saint Mary of Montpellier and Abbot Peter of Sendras. Furthermore, the sentence was endorsed by a certain magister Blanchus and by Bego of Verrières, a Templar who effectively acted as a regional master, although this position had not yet been officially created.¹⁰¹

The lay lords endorsing the judgement were Countess Constance of Toulouse; Viscount Roger Trencavel of Béziers, Agde, Carcassonne, Albi and Razès; Viscount Sicard of Lautrec and possibly Viscount Isarn de Dourgne. This apparently unrelated group of lords came from a closely knit social group who were often related by blood, marriage or alliance and of which Constance was a member. Raymond Trencavel was “faithful” to Constance and her husband, and Constance had written in his defence to her brother.¹⁰² He and his wife had donated to the Cistercian Abbey of Candeil the year before and Sicard of Lautrec confirmed the donation by his father to the same abbey in 1160.¹⁰³ Bishop Adelbert of Nîmes was Raymond Trencavel’s uncle.¹⁰⁴ Sicard’s father had sworn allegiance to Raymond Trencavel in 1152 in presence of, among others, Isarn of Dourgne.¹⁰⁵ Sicard’s brother Raymond was a monk at Saint-Pons at which Raymond of Dourgne, Isarn’s brother, was the abbot.¹⁰⁶ Isarn and Raymond of Dourgne’s other brother was William, the Bishop of Albi. The marriage relations between the Toulouse, Trencavel and Lautrec families were to become ever closer after the Council of Lombers: In the 1170s, Sicard himself would marry Raymond Trencavel’s daughter Adelais, Constance’s son Raymond of Toulouse would marry Raymond Trencavel’s daughter Beatrix, and her daughter Adelaide de Toulouse would marry his son Viscount Roger of Béziers. Constance’s youngest son Baldwin of Toulouse may have married Sicard of Lautrec’s daughter Adelais in the thirteenth century, as has been claimed to explain the origin of the Toulouse-Lautrec family.¹⁰⁷

Whilst we know who sat in judgement, very little is known about the religious defendants of Lombers. Their spokesman Olivier appears to have been educated, and in general, their responses were relatively skilful. Unlike the condemned heretics of Arras or Oxford, it does not appear that the accused were foreigners or weavers, or that women were part of their group. These defendants accused of heresy were supported by local knights and it is exactly their embeddedness that must have been terrifying for the Church. Most notably, they called themselves bon homines, a confusing term that was originally used for the most prominent men of an urban community.¹⁰⁸ The leaders of the city and suburb of Toulouse, for example, called themselves boni homines in their letters to the King of France.¹⁰⁹ The accused of Lombers called themselves boni homines, which suggests that they considered themselves men of high standing within their community.¹¹⁰ However, the term was adopted by heretics, who first adopted the expression to refer to themselves as “upright men”, and ultimately the term bon homines was reserved for Cathars in the region. It is important to note that although the defendants at Lombers were condemned as heretics, they were not labelled as members of a specific heretical group during the trial, and their ultimate crime was of disobedience to the Church, not heretical dualism.¹¹¹

At the end of the trial, the Bishop of Lodève declared the defendants heretical on account of their disobedience to God. The men of Lombers passionately answered that it was not they but the bishop who was the real heretic, and not just their enemy but also an enemy of God. They boldly called him a ravenous wolf and a hypocrite, and they accused him of not judging righteously.¹¹² The bishop simply responded that the sentence was to be held up in the courts of Pope Alexander, the King of France, the Count of Toulouse “or [the court] of his wife who is present”, and that of Roger Trencave. He added that because it was clear that they were tainted by heresy, they would be accused of heresy in any catholic court.¹¹³ Realizing that they were convicted, the bon homines panicked, quickly retracted and professed that they believed in the one and true God.

Gaucelin then demanded from the men that they swear an oath to prove their innocence if they wanted to come back to the Church, but the recanters vehemently objected and asserted that the bishop of Albi had assured them that they would not be required to take oaths. Their objection to oaths stemmed from Saint Matthew’s clear warning against taking oaths: “But I tell you, do not swear an oath at all: either by heaven, for it is God’s throne; or by the earth, for it is his footstool; or by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the Great King. And do not swear by your head, for you cannot make even one hair white or black. All you need to say is simply ‘Yes’ or ‘No’; anything beyond this comes from the evil one” [Matthew 5:33–37 (NIV)].

Canon law acknowledged that oath-taking was in conflict with Scripture. Gratian, the author of the Decretum, the authoritative collection of law in the twelfth century, recognized the problem, but he managed to justify the use of oaths based upon the writings of Augustine (whose writings the heretics at Lombers did not acknowledge as canonical). Oaths therefore remained a common form of guarantee and as such essential to the functioning of medieval society.¹¹⁴ The oath was the medieval equivalent of a signature, a gesture or act put in place to show one’s sincerity in securing peace, paying a mortgage or committing to a legal agreement. Oaths were used to show that one was sincere in his or her intent to maintain promises of peace or law, or bonds of fidelity. Knights swore oaths to their lords, merchants swore oaths, communes swore oaths internally. The power of Raymond Trencavel and other lords of the region was underpinned by these oaths, which were the fabric of social trust within Christian society. So although the rejection of oaths was technically not heretical, it was controversial. ¹¹⁵

Bishop Gaucelin denied that he had ever promised the men of Lombers that they did not have to swear an oath, so when they refused to do so, he felt justified to officially condemn them. After the sentencing, the bishop of Albi stood up and declared publicly, “The sentence which Bishop Gaucelin of Lodève pronounced, I confirm and praise … the knights of Lombers should not support them.”¹¹⁶ The abbots, bishops and other church officials, as well as the lay lords, were asked to confirm the judgement. Sicard of Lautrec, last among them (according to Roger of Howden), stated, “And I, Sicard of Lautrec, endorse this judgement (sententiam) and know that they are heretics, and condemn their opinion (sententiam).”¹¹⁷ Constance, too, confirmed and praised the condemnation of the men of Lombers as heretics, approving the endorsement of the sentence just preceding hers: “And I Constance, sister of the king of France and wife of Raymond of Toulouse, likewise.”¹¹⁸ She was second in the order of the lay witnesses, just after Raymond Trencavel, and the only documented female at the Council.¹¹⁹

The Council of Lombers did not bring a solution to the problems of heresy in the South of France. Ironically, the further prosecution of heretics in the region would ultimately lead to the Albigensian Crusade and the downfall of Constance’s son and grandson as counts of Toulouse in the thirteenth century. Of course, none of this was foreseen in 1165. When Constance represented herself and her absent husband at the council, their orthodoxy was not questioned. Nor was her authority and position as Countess of Toulouse. The presiding bishop warned the condemned heretics that their sentence would be upheld in her or her husband’s court (among others) and she signed the condemnation as one of the lay lords. By 1165, therefore, Constance had enough social standing and political respect to be present for her husband at a church council.

It is not clear why Constance was there without her husband. Did Raymond of Toulouse simply have other business to attend? Did he not trust Roger Trencavel, who was lord of Albi and Lombers? Had he and Constance already separated at this time? If so, nothing in the extant texts of the Council of Lombers indicated their imminent divorce. Her presence at the council, however, was her last recorded public appearance in the County of Toulouse.

Conclusion

Constance married Count Raymond V of Toulouse in response to the political situation in Western Europe in the 1150s. Once a countess, Constance became a vital and physical link between the County of Toulouse and the Crown of France. Raymond used his marriage to the sister of the King of France to increase his power in the South while Louis similarly extended royal influence in the same region through his sister and brother-in-law. Both rulers benefitted. Constance was an active participant in this process: She assumed the title regina to emphasize her royal birth and consistently applied “sister of the King of France” to her title. In order to influence local politics, she wrote letters to her brother inviting him to intervene or to make judgements. Yet she did not always follow up on his judgement, as hers was a balancing act. When the interests of the king conflicted with the interests of the count of Toulouse, Constance was forced to take sides with either her family of birth or her family of marriage, in particular after the birth of her eldest son, the future count of Toulouse.

Within the marriage, Constance also needed to balance her own advantages against her husband’s. Charters bearing Constance’s name from this period seem to show a wife who had little more influence than someone consenting to her husband’s decisions. Yet, on closer examination we find that, in some instances, Constance was able to turn her husband’s need for her consent to her own financial benefit and she derived personal income from her consent to the alienation of lands and rights. Some negotiation must have taken place between the couple, although admittedly it is impossible to make an assessment of the relative power in their relationship. It is clear, however, that when it came to alienating lands, Raymond needed his wife’s cooperation. Constance may have had little to no influence upon her brother’s decision to marry her to Raymond of Toulouse other than giving her consent, but once married, she was an active participant in her marriage and its resulting politics.

In Occitania, like in other areas of France outside the royal demesne, Louis positioned himself in the role of peace-maker, defender, and higher judge in order to expand Capetian power. By supporting towns against lords, Church against laymen, and lesser nobles against lords, he attempted to create a sphere of royal influence. One of his methods was to use his connection with his sister and her family, and even after Constance had left her husband, Louis reached out to her children: when his niece Adelaide, Constance and Raymond’s only daughter, married Roger of Béziers in 1171, he wrote to his amico carissimo (beloved friend) Roger and offered him and his niece the castle of Minerve as a wedding gift.¹²⁰ However, the effectiveness of Louis’ alliance with Toulouse had diminished and his relationship with Raymond eventually soured. As a consequence, King Henry II of England saw a chance to use the political void left behind to his advantage and in 1174, Raymond paid homage to the English king.

Constance showed remarkable agency as the Countess of Toulouse. She helped her brother expand his influence in the South, stood by her husband in his local politics, defended the patrimony of her children, achieved status in her own right as Countess of Toulouse, and maintained some financial independence. The evidence for her role and agency gathered from the sources relating to her second marriage are in marked contrast to those from her first marriage. Constance appears confident and strong during the years 1155–1165, rather than the silent young woman in history’s background. Of course, this may be partially due to the nature of the extant evidence as there are no letters surviving from Constance during her early years, but it is also driven by the context she found herself in: no longer involved in an uncertain war of succession and no longer beholden to parents-in-law who held the power (and money), a more mature Constance found a way to mobilize her royal birth and to be involved in the affairs of state.