By Nancy Goldstone
One aspect of the 14th century that I find absolutely irresistible is the aristocracy’s devotion to the ideals of chivalry, so at odds with the blatant opportunism which otherwise characterized the period. Joanna I spent her life besieged by unscrupulous enemies, weathering war, plague, treason and domestic violence. But as queen she also inspired the sort of gallantry ordinarily found in the pages of a story book, as illustrated by the following delightful anecdote.
According to Paris of Puteo, a fifteenth century Neapolitan doctor of law, Joanna once held a particularly magnificent feast in the city of Gaeta to which were invited the highest order of nobility throughout Italy. There was music and dancing as was customary on these occasions, and Joanna chose a distinguished knight, Galeazzo of Mantua, to be her partner for one of the dances. Galeazzo was so thrilled to have been singled out in this way that, as soon as the dance was over, he knelt before her and “thanked her very humbly for the honor she had rendered him with so much courtesy and graciousness; and declaring he knew not how to recompense it by any service worthy of it, made there at her feet a vow to wander through the world in search of deeds of arms at every hazard, risk, and peril, until he should have vanquished and captured two valiant knights to bestow as a gift on her, to dispose of as she thought best.”
True to his word, Galeazzo spent the next months charging through Europe challenging all and sundry to jousts and tourneys in the hopes of fulfilling his quest. At the end of a year he was rewarded with two crestfallen prisoners and returned to Naples with the promised knights in tow. Arriving at the royal court, he presented this proof of his fidelity on bended knee before the queen. Joanna accorded him all honor for his service, and pronounced him to be “a most worthy knight.” Then she turned to the two chagrined cavaliers and spoke.
“Sirs, you are, as you see, my prisoners. By the laws of chivalry I may cause such as are in your captive condition to serve me in any ignoble office I may best please; but I think you will judge by my countenance that cruelty does not dwell in my heart to dispose of the unfortunate in such manner…I give you from this hour entire liberty and franchise to act as you please, whether to return free to your own country, or before you depart, to solace yourselves in my kingdom and view the curiosities of it.”
Then she gave everyone rich presents, including money and thick gold chains, and the liberated knights, as well they should, sang her praises all the way home.
(This story appears in both Angelo di Costanzo’s History of the Kingdom of Naples and Monsieur de St. Palaye’s Memoirs of Ancient Chivalry. Costanzo was a 16th century Neapolitan poet and historian who undertook to write a comprehensive history of Naples because the previous texts were unreliable. St. Palaye (1697-1781) used as his source the Abbé de Brantôme’s sixteenth century history Vies des grands capitaines, dames illustres, and dames galantes. The English translation quoted here comes from The Historical Life of Joanna of Sicily, Queen of Naples and Countess of Provence, Volume II, p. 49-52)
Nancy Goldstone is the author of The Lady Queen: The Notorious Reign of Joanna I, Queen of Naples, Jerusalem, and Sicily
as well as Four Queens: The Provençal Sisters Who Ruled Europe and co-author (with her husband Lawrence Goldstone) of Out of the Flames, The Friar and the Cipher, and Warmly Inscribed. She lives in Westport, Connecticut. To view a video of Nancy talking about the book, click here.
IMAGE: Joanna, crowned, on her knees and wearing her rob of state (golden Angevin lilies on a blue background), praying to the Madonna and Child for an heir, one of only two surviving images of he queen painted during her lifetime. (image courtesy of Walker Publishing Company)
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