Daughters of the Reconquest: Women in Castilian Town Society, 1100-1300

Heath Dillard


On the margins: mistresses and abducted wives

[127] Settlement in an incipient municipality presented to ordinary men and women of ambition a chance to get ahead by dint of their own efforts and meritorious service to town and crown. Growth, prosperity and social exclusivity at better established communities, especially after the middle of the twelfth century, made it harder for a man of action to reach the top from below, or simply by riding into town, taking up residence, and settling in as a privileged newcomer. The award of a wife from the increasingly class-conscious upper crust of a town would have bestowed undeserved acceptance upon an adventurer, and it became more and more desirable for leading families to reserve their daughters for propertied municipal knights, even noble knights, or at least socially compatible sons of established neighbours. Good men who lost out in competition for the best girls had nevertheless to be compensated with desirable partners, as did the less worthy sorts of men who might otherwise concoct designs on prized daughters. Suitable brides, moreover, would be notably scarce at a settlement of recent vintage. Thus two very different types of marriage flourished beside the lengthy matrimonial process of petition, consent, betrothal and wedding, the formal steps favoured by polite society. The first was a form of concubinage, not only legal but widely supported. The other was marriage by abduction, unpardonable from the perspective of a daughter's family and therefore unlawful. For the kidnapper, however, it was expedient and at times even socially acceptable. Both types of marriage opened up promising but quite different opportunities to townswomen.

Mistresses and concubines (barraganas) were women who did not or could not marry their lovers or the men who supported them, whether bachelors, widowers, priests or married men. If a barragana's companion already had a wife, she would have to be most discreet in order to avoid serious trouble, but the barragana of an unmarried man could [128] live openly with her lover. A woman in the latter group was, in canonical terms, a concubina retenta in domo, recognized in early Hispanic canon law as an alternative to a wife yet a monogamous partner. (1) Her Romance name derives from the term for a valorous young bachelor, the 'manly son' (fijo barragan) of medieval texts. (2) Unlike the concubine of canon and Roman law, the medieval barragana was not merely a kept woman but sometimes had civil responsibilities and rights comparable to those of a wife. At Cuenca and other towns her duties as the resident companion of an absent or absconded debtor were the same as those of a wife, and she had to represent him in court, pay his debts, and go to jail if she could not pay them. At Zamora a barragana who had lived with a man for at least a year was entitled to half of everything they earned together, the same as a wife's share of matrimonial acquisitions. This was also true of the barragana at Plasencia, explicitly when she had been faithful and was pregnant when her lover died. (3) Lower-class municipal residents may not have cared particularly whether they were legally and canonically married, but town policies promoted matrimony as a way to stabilize mores, settle men down, and protect female colonizers. All the leading citizens of a town were expected or even required to marry, and married women enjoyed considerably more respect and security than those who lived informally with men. The barragana of a reputable bachelor or widower was one such woman and characteristically the social inferior of her companion. At Zamora the barragana who stayed with a man for less than a year not only forfeited her claim on acquisitions but had to return all the clothing and other gifts he had given her, like any servant he employed. They 'ate out of the same dish and at the same table', but she was not his social equal. Uclés took note of skirmishes the barragana of a tax-exempt citizen of high status was likely to have with the town's married women, and fined those who called her insulting names or assaulted her. (4)

As a woman of questionable background, but privileged although without benefit of clergy, she did not command from properly married women the same respect she received from her companion and formal custom but stood on the fringes of the best female society in her town. Yet a poor girl might easily find it hard to turn down a chance to become the barragana of a prosperous municipal citizen in preference to hard work or public prostitution, but perhaps especially as an alternative to a demanding marriage to some poor fellow who could not afford to maintain her in a comfortable life of ease. She might even dare to [129] hope that the bachelor would become sufficiently attached to marry her.

The barragana of a bachelor or widower could readily entertain aspirations for her children. Not all illegitimate children were barred from inheritance, only those born 'in adultery'. Aragonese and canonical sources call them children who 'ought not to have been born', the ill-starred children 'of condemned coitus'. (5) These terms refer not to children of unmarried parents but only those whose father or mother was married to someone else at the time they were born. The children of a bachelor's or widower's barragana were simply natural children. These inherited from both parents unless their paternity was in doubt, or they were edged out by the legitimate children their father sired.

A Castilian noble father had wide latitude in providing for the children of his barragana. He could confer upon them the honorific five hundred sueldos of his class, the incremental fine denoting nobility of birth, especially on a son who could, in turn, pass this privilege and high status on to any child born to his barragana. The noble could choose to give his barragana's children additional property or even full shares of his wealth, but only his legitimate children were entitled to the most important family estates. (6) Similar possibilities for favouring their natural bastards rested with townsmen. Frequently legitimate children pushed them aside. Sometimes all were admitted to inheritance on the same footing.

Regional customs from northern Castile report that a man of Logroño could cut off the child of his barragana by giving it a pittance, but that when he failed to provide for it at all, the inheritance was divided among all his children born in and out of wedlock. (7) Younger bachelors in particular cohabited with barraganas, and their children were most frequently the ones whose patrimonial interests were protected by custom. At Cuénca and other towns the pregnant but widowed barragana, like a wife, took possession of the dead father's property on behalf of a posthumous only child, lived out of it until it was born, and was first in line to administer the inheritance and inherit property from the child if it died. Here a man's natural and legitimate children claimed their father's property on the same footing, provided he acknowledged paternity, a fact established by the father's residence with his barragana. (8) Since unmarried men might not always wish to recognize just any of their bastards, a woman of one of these towns could oblige a man to acknowledge his child by [130] submitting herself to the ordeal of the hot iron, an intimidating procedure to establish the truth of her assertion but required until the late thirteenth century for certain women of questionable veracity. If the mother passed the test, her accusation was upheld, and the father had to support his child, just like one his domiciled barragana bore. During the first three years, he paid the mother of his more haphazard bastard a small annual wage, like any wet nurse, but after the nursing period he assumed full charge and expense of the child's rearing, and the mother no longer had legal and financial responsibility for it. She could also make the father assume care if he failed to pay her the required sum during its infancy. When he had not willingly recognized or been forced to acknowledge his bastard, all the duties of a parent fell entirely on the mother, and not only here. At Molina de Aragón, exceptionally, the alcaldes were supposed to make an effort to ascertain the paternity of a bastard so as to decide whether a man living with a young delinquent was indeed his father and therefore financially responsible for the child's legal obligations, but paternity was widely regarded as moot without outright admission. A domiciled barragana, then, was in a much stronger position than merely any mother of an illegitimate child. (9)

The inheritance rights of a barragana's children aroused differences of opinion. At Zamora, Salamanca and Ledesma they had presumptive rights on the father's property when the parents were living together at his death. Salamanca and Ledesma denied the barragana any of the father's goods, unlike Zamora where she took half of the acquisitions, but her children were not excluded unless he married and had legitimate children. At Zamora, and evidently at Salamanca and Ledesma, he could still provide by bequest for the barragana's child, if he chose, even when he and his wife produced children. Ledesma also permitted a father to 'receive', but with unspecified results, a bastard other than hers. At all these towns her child was of unquestioned paternity when the father had been living with its mother and thus rightfully claimed its father's possessions. Once he sired legitimate children, however, these would exclude the children of his barragana, assuming he did not leave her offspring a special bequest. (10)

At many towns formal paternal recognition was vital to the inheritance prospects of any illegitimate child whose father had children born in wedlock, even when he had cohabited with its mother and was known to be the father. His recognition was affirmed, as at Alcalá de Henares or Brihuega, before the town assembly, at the [131] mustering of the militia, by appointing godparents, or at some other public gathering where witnesses to the event could later testify that the child's father had acknowledged it. The military setting, a gathering solely of men, shows this as a way for a father to gain a male heir. Naming godparents was essential at Soria where allusion to the need to 'christianize' the child suggests that its mother could be either Muslim or Jewish. There is little reason, however, to conclude that domiciled barraganas or mothers of more haphazard bastards were predominantly women of Muslim or Jewish background, although some doubtless were. This was a relatively minor issue. At Sepúlveda it was necessary for a father to obtain the consent of his relatives to recognize the child of his barragana, and he had to acknowledge it in the town assembly since its patrimonial rights were of far more consequence than its mother's religion. Recognition at most of these towns, however formally accomplished, meant that the child could now inherit alongside the man's legitimate children, whether or not the father of the favoured child had actually cohabited with its mother.(11) At Soria, by exception, a man could leave all his illegitimate children up to a quarter of his goods. (12) Soria emphasized that acknowledged bastards still inherited from unmarried parents, but only when neither of them subsequently married someone else and had legitimate children. At all these towns a father's children born in wedlock excluded his bastards unless he acknowledged them, even when he had lived openly with their mother. Now, however, it was said at Soria, as in the Fuero Real, that the marriage of unwed parents legitimized their children, a significant reason for a barragana to hope that cohabitation would lead to matrimony. (13)

Custom was notably attentive to the barragana as the mother of a bachelor's illegitimate children but with highly diverse results. A medieval father could acknowledge his natural bastards so that they would share his property on an equal footing with his children born in wedlock, pick and choose among those he wanted to favour, refuse to recognize them, or cut them off without any property. None of them could inherit at all without his recognition which usually had to be voluntary. It was, however, undeniable if he had lived with their mother when they were born or at the time he died. Even so they did not always have the privilege of being paternal heirs. Whether the children of a bachelor's or widower's barragana were granted or denied inheritance, she was still a woman who might at any time be displaced by a wife, the post she undoubtedly coveted for herself.

The priest's barragana was in a somewhat more secure position since [132] she did not run the risk of being superseded by her lover's wife. Secular society took little official interest in the clergyman's concubine except to establish her children's rights to inherit their father's property. The doctrine that they had been conceived in sin, as Aragonese usage described it, was unknown to Castilian custom, even at towns governed by the archbishop of Toledo or another ecclesiastical lord. Certainly the critical demands for manpower at meseta towns promoted the children's patrimonial claims, as at Molina de Aragón where these were asserted together with the need for a cleric's son or nephew to serve in the town militia. (14) Their mother, a concubine, was of far greater concern to papal and other ecclesiastical reformers than to townsmen, and she continued to receive the stinging censure of Church councils before, during and long after the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. This disparaging notoriety had little effect on her popularity among the Castilian clergy, although she may have been disguised from the bishop as a relative or housekeeper and dressed soberly in black, as the Council of Coyanza had required in 1055 of a woman residing permissibly in a priest's establishment. (15) In towns her clerical companion was frequently exempt from municipal tax, military service and other obligations, and he was normally entitled to benefit of clergy, that is, having his disputes with lay citizens heard in the bishop's court or at least in the presence of an episcopal official. A parish priest could be the head of a municipal household and exercise the privileges of a property owner. He was a local citizen of importance, and his barragana doubtless expected to be treated with deference, perhaps to the disdain and envy of high-minded married women most of all. (16)

The married man's barragana or amiga was not at all a public figure like the companion of a bachelor, widower or even a priest. The ties to her lover constituted not merely adultery but informal bigamy, and he would have to tuck her away as inconspicuously as possible. At Cuenca and elsewhere the married man who came to town and took a second wife there could usually expect to be hanged, but any man whose wife lived in the community or even in a different one was also punished for maintaining a barragana in this particular town. (17) Both man and woman were ordered to be flogged through the streets and plazas, perhaps naked as at Alfambra, or tied up together and then flogged. (18) Only if this barragana's lover lived elsewhere could they possibly conceal his marital status from neighbours. Death at the stake awaited any woman who married twice, with both flogging and [133] expulsion for the wife who took a lover. We hear little about any punishment of her 'friend' or 'lord', even when he lived in her town. Her paramour is certainly more anonymous and was doubtless more rarely to hand than the local barragana of a married man. A philandering bachelor who had beguiled someone's wife perhaps scandalized convention less than a woman who set her sights on another woman's husband, but a man who monopolized more than one woman at a time, that is, both a wife and a mistress, not only flouted common decency but also deprived another townsman of an available partner. If the married man's wife lived in a different community, the barragana could cause problems. She as well as the wife made demands on the man's resources and, equally serious, on his affection and loyalty. Just as it was necessary to require a married man to bring his wife and children to live in the town where he wished to exercise the privileges of citizenship, so it was essential to discourage husbands from establishing informal as well as formal, or conceivably multiple, liaisons with other women, perhaps especially when the wife lived in a rival town a day's ride or so away. (19) The possibility obviously presented more of a temptation to energetic men than to women who could move around the country far less safely and had fewer pretexts to travel. Thus a married man had to be punished for maintaining simultaneously barragana and wife, and local offenders were subject to the worst public humiliation and a painful thrashing. Unlike the barragana of an unmarried man, a highly disposable creature, a husband's lover threatened both the established municipal household and the prerogative of another man to win her.

The barragana was the legitimate companion only of a man who had not yet married. Protections for her and her children recognize her claims as a man's interim wife, pending his acquisition of one he had to acquire through normal channels. He was, in principle, the brave young bachelor who would someday marry a woman of comparable social status. The barragana was, then, the lawful companion of a townsman's youth and was herself characteristically a young woman. Only occasionally did she have special rights as his survivor, as did their children, but she stood to lose everything once he married, although their children were not always overlooked. While barraganía served the immediate interests of young men, widowers, and their illegitimate children, it is plain that municipal parents, anxious to preserve their own daughters' prospects for good marriages, would readily support it, not only for their own sons, but also among men of [134] low status set on acquiring a municipal wife of some reputation and local importance. Barraganas certainly had ambitions for their own and their children's welfare, and they did not necessarily go unrewarded. These women, however, served the most useful purpose of preserving social endogamy in towns, primarily as temporary wives for young and predatory men. Obviously their unqualified married elders were loath to give up the masculine prerogative of maintaining a mistress.

Regulated concubinage might discourage or even prevent misalliances, but young people were not ignorant of possibilities for marrying illegally against the wishes of their parents. A man could simply abduct the woman he fancied or, preferably, obtain the girl's cooperation and elope with her. Abduction themes colour thirteenth-century narratives of the legends about the origins of the Reconquest. The last Visigothic king Rodrigo is reported to have promised marriage, secretly and in bad faith, to the beautiful daughter of Count Julian. Then, in her father's absence, he abducted and raped her. These events precipitated, it is said, Julian's treacherous and decisive conspiracy in the successful Arab invasion. A bit later Munuza, a Muslim collaborator and governor in the north, is alleged to have kidnapped Don Pelayo's sister and married her clandestinely. Munuza's contemptuous and humiliating gall so enraged the leader of the Gothic refugees that he re-abducted his sister and resolved to exterminate the invader, thus initiating in the eighth century the Reconquest of Spain from the mountains of Asturias. (20) These myths express well-founded anxieties of medieval Spaniards for the safety and chastity of Christian women often taken in the raiding expeditions that characterized peninsular warfare. The female captives who became slaves and concubines in Al-Andalus remain, for the most part, anonymous components of the booty of war, although thirteenth-century captives' reports have revealed the names and fates of some who were seized while tending sheep and doing other agricultural work outside Córdoba, Ecija and Linares. (21) Their Muslim kidnappers, however, were not the only men whom townswomen and their families had to fear. Enterprising Christian abductors had far better opportunities and even incentives to carry off a community's coveted female inhabitants. A Sabine theme, as well as the Helenic motif, stamps the municipalities' experience with abduction. We should not underestimate, however, the acquiescence or even wilful connivance of abductors' purported victims. Quite the [135] opposite of barraganas who found rewards even in temporary relationships with men of higher status, abducted or eloping daughters were usually socially superior and legally unavailable to their companions in flight. An abducted woman married or expected to marry the man against her family's better judgment. By eloping she disregarded it and trusted her own.

Many of the Visigothic traditions of the Fuero Juzgo remained broadly authoritative in later conceptions of abduction as an illegal way to obtain a wife. The ancient crime of raptus consisted in the taking or misappropriation of a daughter or widow against her will and that of the victim's family. Rape was frequently an aggravating aspect of abduction but not essential to punish the criminal raptor. Rape compounded his penalties, adding full confiscation, flogging and enslavement to that of partial confiscation, with the death penalty reserved for abductors of betrothed women, as for the slave who raped a free woman. It was also meted out to the man who, having failed to carry off a woman on the first attempt, tried again, and to a girl who fled to a man from whom her family had managed to retrieve her. (22) There is no precise term for rape in Visigothic law, only diverse circumlocutions, but the murder of abductors was justified on the grounds of chastity's defense. Among the Visigoths adulterium (illicit sexual intercourse of many kinds) and stuprum (usually fornication with an unmarried woman or widow) were most serious matters and, while illegal sexual relations were an implicit danger in the grave offence of abduction, kidnapping for the purpose of matrimony was the pernicious offence in raptus. Marriage between an abductor and his victim, whether or not he had raped or had sexual relations with her, was categorically denounced and prohibited. (23)

Two loopholes, however, provided for the possibility of matrimony. If the kidnapped woman stayed with the abductor, her family might decide to come to terms with him and then begin marriage negotiations to validate the bond. An alternative was for a woman to slip away quietly with a man and then pose the question of consent from a distance, but not under the cloud of abduction. If her family refused its blessing, the couple could marry, but she might then be disinherited or, changing her mind, decide to return to her family without penalty. (24) These various prescriptions influenced the way in which later medieval custom conceived abduction and bride theft. Abhorrence of the crime remained, whether or not it led to matrimony. Confusion and intermingling of rape with abduction [136] continued, although rape was more clearly defined as a separate crime of violence. Prohibitions against marriage between abductor or rapist and victim persisted, just the opposite of the custom, widely disseminated in Aragón and Navarre, that required the rapist to marry her. (25) The role of a woman in her abduction remained uncertain. She was not inevitably a passive participant, even when allegedly appropriated by force. Her crime and that of her abductor was still essentially their intention to marry against her family's wishes, but her disobedience continued to be open to forgiveness on the assumption, not always groundless, that she may have been coerced in the beginning. Abduction remained the gravest matter, but conditions during the Reconquest encouraged irregular matrimonial initiatives by both men and women so that abduction and elopement, together with seduction and even rape, developed into a specific type of medieval courtship procedure.

Abduction and rape were inextricably confused in a seignorial fine which Leonese customs of the tenth through to the thirteenth century styled rausum, rauso, roxo, rosse or another variant of raptus. Thus the victim of abduction became known in León as a muger rosada, not a scarlet but an abducted woman. Founders of small communities in the dioceses of Santiago, Oviedo, León, Zamora and Salamanca frequently excused settlers from the need to pay rausum, homicide fines, death taxes and other diverse obligations as a matter of privilege for those who settled there. In the late ninth century King Ordoño I exempted any inhabitant of a settlement near Oviedo from the need to contribute towards the fine collected whenever a killing occurred there, unless the man himself had committed the deed. Moreover, the king released any settler from pecuniary responsibility for the abduction and rape fine 'even though he had done it' (raussum quamvis fecerit). (26) In the early eleventh century Alfonso V acquitted the residents of his capital of León from seignorial amercements for abduction and homicide and reserved these fines expressly for the crown. Both crimes were atrocities deserving the attention of royal justice, but the need to attract men and women to new settlements was affecting the prosecution of even the most heinous individuals, and another of Alfonso's charters for settlers of lands in the diocese of Lugo exonerated colonizers from abduction or rape, homicide, and other crimes committed before their arrival. This was a broad grant of asylum to dangerous evildoers wanted elsewhere. (27) In the course of the eleventh century abduction, like homicide, became subject to [137] private vengeance as well as pecuniary compensation exacted by kings and other landlords on their own and a victim's behalf. (28) At some settlements the fine persisted well into the thirteenth century as a customary amercement in which the crown took a steadily increasing interest, but it was paid only when the offender had abducted or raped a local woman. (29) Royal justice was only gradually successful in prosecuting this criminal, and the founder and subsequent lords of a place were interested primarily in their own gains and losses rather than the punishment of malefactors as a class. Seignorial fines for rausum were levied on men who damaged or absconded with women from the same settlement, not when they abducted women into their community. Thus by 1222 at San Román de Hornija near Toro the lord abbot declared and the king confirmed a flat immunity to rossum for any man who imported a woman from another place but provided for adjudication between the abductor of a local woman and her family under a procedure which many towns instituted to deal with kidnappers and their willing victims. (30) In northwestern Castile near the Leonese kingdom the colonizers who came to Palenzuela after 1074, and to communities founded in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries in the same region, were released by the crown from seignorial abduction fines although they had to pay to their victims and local authorities high pecuniary penalties for rape. The royal exemptions here are significant as grants to important defensive posts in Castile's borderlands with León. (31)

Beyond the largely Leonese districts where abduction and rape were customarily subject to or excused from seignorial or royal fines for rausum, colonizers were sometimes explicitly granted the privilege of abducting women into a town without penalty or fear of prosecution. The concessions were extended to fortified settlements scattered all across the peninsula from Catalonia west into Portugal. Not infrequently new towns admitted all kinds of fugitives and known criminals, but cautiously by requiring colonizers to make peace with the enemies they discovered already in residence. (32) Quite a few Reconquest communities gave a warm welcome to criminal abductors who arrived with kidnapped women in tow. Grants of asylum to the offenders and their victims were not isolated enactments by exceptional landlords intent on expanding the populations of occasional settlements but royally sanctioned immunities, especially at towns founded as military outposts within zones of new Christian settlement in sectors of protracted combat with Muslims or, like [138] Palenzuela, near sensitive borders with hostile Christian states. This particular licence persisted over several centuries, together with harsh penalties for any abductor of a local woman, and it followed the settlement into new communities. Once the concession was acquired, the inhabitants tended to cling to their original privilege of bringing in the women they seized, long after the frontier conditions that prompted it had passed to different geographical areas. As municipal communities expanded and frontier districts developed more orderly and solidly established populations, it became increasingly necessary to circumscribe the guarantees that shielded abductors and the women who accompanied them.

As early as 986 Count Ramon Borel of Catalonia reformed the customs of the fortress of Cardona in Catalonia to punish the criminals who heretofore had been safely admitted to settlement there. He banned incoming abductors but only those who came with married and betrothed women. In 1076 Alfonso VI granted protection to a colonizer of Sepúlveda, then near the Dueran front lines, when he brought in a woman, girl, or any other stolen goods. A number of Alfonso I's early twelfth-century fortress towns close to his Aragonese borders with Castile admitted killers, thieves and any sort of malefactor, explicitly abductors importing girls to Encisa after 1129. In 1131 his town of Calatayud granted asylum to known murderers and men bringing in abducted women, while the decision to admit their pursuers rested with the town assembly. Three years later at Marañón the king ordered its citizens to protect a neighbour when he had kidnapped a woman. Whoever came in pursuit was allowed in only to make peace and then had to leave. (33) Criminals in one place could make highly desirable citizens at some distance from the site of their previous misdeeds, especially when they arrived with women at a town where female inhabitants were in short supply. An abductor was no ordinary brute since the woman who accompanied him was not invariably coerced into flight. He could be expected, moreover, to refrain from contending for the women already there.

Alfonso VII granted the abduction privilege to the fortress of Guadalajara in 1133. A fugitive who sought sanctuary with an abducted woman and any other man who fled there in fear of his life was protected by a high royal fine of five hundred sueldos for injury or death, a noble's customary prerogative. Here the crown could intervene to punish murderers, thieves and traitors at the request of the citizens, but abductors were kept safely beyond the reach of royal [139] officials. Alfonso extended the concession to the fortresses of Oreja in 1139 and Ocaña in 1156, two defensive outposts on the middle Tagus and long contested with the Almoravides. Both towns gave asylum to a motley array of outlaws. The colonist-abductor was forbidden to bring a married woman, kinswoman, or a woman abducted by force to Oreja, but he could convey any willing and marriageable woman with impunity. At Ocaña only the kidnapping of another man's wife was officially prohibited. (34) With these reservations the crown sought to check the most hazardous consequences of a repopulation policy which countenanced the stealing of women to provide colonizers with wives.

By the middle of the thirteenth century Ocaña's toleration of criminals had waned, but only known traitors, thieves and rapists had to be screened by municipal officials before they could settle there. Guadalajara failed to preserve its abduction privilege in the revision of its customs in 1219, but a little later Plasencia refused settlement only to murderers, while nearby at Cáceres and Lobeira near the Portuguese border all kinds of fugitives were granted immunity and protection. By the end of the thirteenth century, when the customs of Sepúlveda were recodified, its abduction concession was still being extended to a newcomer, but only to a knight or squire who had to come to terms with the king's justices if he had forced the woman to accompany him. Long obsolete in its original purpose here, the prerogative was slow in dying. In lower Navarre it was said that a noble could make a girl a noblewoman by undertaking a ritual abduction. He had only to carry her 'nine steps' away from home, provided she was dressed in her chemise and her hair was let down. She then became an infanzona forever. (35)

In summary, abductors and the women they kidnapped or those who eloped voluntarily with them ordinarily found havens in the frontier communities of their generation. Since many established towns of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries outlawed and banished their most abominable criminals, abductors included, the penalties served to export fugitive malefactors of all kinds to towns in the process of being colonized. An abductor was just the daring sort of man needed at a new settlement, and he introduced a valuable female to the community that embraced them. The sites where many of the immunities were granted suggest that the women would sometimes be snatched across a border from the lands of an unfriendly ruler or brought in by one of his renegade subjects. Opportunities to settle [140] safely at such towns aided and abetted the practices of bride theft and elopement long before Gratian's Decretum of about 1140, opposing marriages forced upon women, began to defend the validity of a daughter's marriage contracted without parental consent. Any encouragement by the new canon law and theology to freely contracted marriages following elopement was a purely fortuitous reenforcement of a dispassionate royal policy that condoned it. Even where local custom did not explicitly permit men to abduct women from other places with impunity, the couple would be hospitably received as new colonizers. The possibility of migration and a welcome reception in another town facilitated the eloping couple's settlement at a new community where custom protected newcomers against the intervention of foreigners. Privileged settlement in municipalities enhanced prospects for the stealthy and successful pirating of women into towns where an abductor would be safe from retribution and his new wife's desertion and disobedience, together with any interference from other persons seeking to protect her, were harshly punished. These matrimonial initiatives met, not unexpectedly, with fierce resistance at a woman's home town.

Most communities, including those that encouraged the immigration of women by abduction and elopement, adopted formal strategies to discourage the departure of local women by these means. (36) The first was enforcement of the arranged marriage validated by parental and familial consent. Next, kidnappers had to be deterred. Harsh penalties, both enormous fines and exile under threat of an avenging death at the hands of the woman's family, were widely adopted as weapons. These would be notably effective against a local man whose person and property could be seized. He was also the offender most likely to have been refused consent to marry the woman he then decided to abduct. At Leonese towns abduction was frequently mentioned as a crime of stealth and seduction, and the penalties were given for seizing either a daughter or a widow against her will. At Alba de Tormes the fine was stiffest when the daughter of a property-owning citizen was abducted, a discrepancy also observed for the distinct crime of rape. (37) Castilian custom disregarded widows, since daughters were the prime targets, and the marriage of a widow against her family's wishes was less offensive. (38) At a few towns abductors of daughters merited the death penalty. (39) Harsher punishment of the criminal did not, however, depend upon seduction or forcible rape of the woman whom he carried to some close or remote [141] spot, temporarily or permanently. To hold her against her will or that of her family constituted abduction whether or not sexual violation occurred, although it was regarded as a usual eventuality.

Abducted daughters could be passive victims of roving or marauding males, but such was not invariably the case. Sometimes they simply ran away to get married, conspiring in a plan to flee with or to a waiting lover. (40) The woman's partner was still an abductor, but she, too, would be punished. Disinheritance was the daughter's penalty, but during the last decades of the twelfth century punitive exile for the eloping daughter, as well as her abductor, became commonplace. (41) The additional penalty was notably prevalent at Castilian towns like Cuenca where both were prescribed for a woman who married without consent or fled to a man who may have seduced or coerced her initially, possibilities considered at many communities. At Leonese towns, too, it was pointed out that a daughter or widow first seized by force might decide to stay with the man who abducted her. (42) Kidnapping by a clever seduction or even forcible sexual possession weakened a woman's will to resist her attacker's wishes that she remain with him, even when she had not cooperated at the start. Effective removal and actual or merely the appearance of sexual appropriation increased an abductor's chances of keeping her. Obviously, then, a girl's activities and whereabouts had to be monitored with scrutiny lest she fall afoul of some rejected suitor or even a passing stranger on the prowl for a wife.

Increasing harshness towards daughters who eloped or stayed with their abductors shows that wife stealing and elopement remained persistent problems for medieval townsmen, particularly at the height of the ecclesiastical controversy over the validity of a marriage lacking the sanction of parental consent. By the middle of the twelfth century clandestine marriages were valid and indissoluble in the eyes of the Church, if established by words of consent, despite the fact that they had not been contracted according to the formalities preferred and required by secular custom. At Alcalá de Henares relatives who had not been consulted by a widowed parent about the marriage of an orphaned girl might go to a priest and demand that he not marry the betrothed couple until her widowed parent had paid the customary fine for disregarding the in-laws' interests. Certainly these townsmen expected that the priest would obey their wishes to refrain from celebrating the marriage. (43) Zamora was even more hostile to a wedding that lacked family approval. Any man or woman who [142] claimed the fact of a marriage contracted between them by oaths (de juras) was penalized when the alleged spouse's parent or close relative denied the fact of the marriage. Of particular concern was a man who declared to a daughter or niece of a household, 'You swore with me.' Such a claim brought the same reaction when a woman raised it against a man whose relatives denied it, but she was not exiled as was the man who made the outrageous allegation. Each of them nevertheless paid an exorbitant fine for demanding that the oaths be honoured in the face of denial by the opposing family. Zamora thus made it possible for families to invalidate a betrothal or clandestine marriage contracted merely by the oaths of mutual consent a couple exchanged. (44)

Since it was worse than unwise to attempt to marry secretly at home, flight to some distant community was the safest course by far when an abductor and his victim or accomplice decided to marry. Coria, Cáceres and Usagre, which were fairly new towns in the early thirteenth century, recognized the validity of a marriage contracted by oaths in the hand of a priest (en manu de clerigo). It was just as lawful as one celebrated in a church with the traditional sacerdotal benediction and nuptial mass. The legality of the oath marriage here is evident in customs which mention the possibilities of illegally violating the contract, whether by adultery or repudiation. If a wife married by oaths (de juras) or benediction (de bendicion) was discovered committing adultery, she and her lover could be murdered on the spot by her husband or kinsman. Similarly, the woman married by oaths or in a church with the traditional veiling ceremony (velada) was dispossessed for leaving her husband, and harsh fines were levied on anyone who protected her against him. If a man deserted his wife, however they had married, the bishop could oblige the alcaldes, on pain of being forsworn, to intervene to reconcile the couple, and the wife had to be re-endowed and the marriage celebrated anew. This was a most uncanonical procedure but evidently advisable to remind an irresponsible man of his earlier commitment, perhaps especially one taken solely on his oath. (45) The 'oath marriage' of these Leonese towns and several others in the neighbouring Portuguese region of Cima Coa was a valid marriage although celebrated without publicity and, more irregularly, without familial participation. It was therefore a clandestine marriage that might well have been initiated by abduction and elopement elsewhere. For the most part clandestine marriage or betrothal was widely despised and feared by townsmen. [143] The demands of the Fourth Lateran Council of 1215 for banns and a public wedding aided the efforts of municipal families to maintain their prerogative of marrying their daughters properly to men they approved, but the council did not declare a clandestine marriage invalid. It simply penalized the participants. Secular custom, by contrast, remained overwhelmingly opposed to secret weddings solemnized solely with vows sworn by the bride and groom. The Fuero Real penalized clandestine marriage with an exorbitant royal fine and declared that a marriage celebrated publicly superseded a betrothal contracted by promises or oaths given in the future tense. (46) At most towns any oaths a couple exchanged on their own remained of questionable validity and legality.

An unauthorized but canonically valid marriage contracted by mutually exchanged vows was not the only abhorrent novelty that twelfth-century townsmen had to beware. Equally threatening was Pope Alexander III's decision of about 1180 that a verbal exchange of promises to wed in the future created a valid and indissoluble marriage, once it was consummated. Formal betrothal with endowment remained, however, the irreversible step in the secular marriage process, and sexual relations were not unusual or even reprehensible before the wedding. Abduction also assumed either voluntary or involuntary sexual surrender by a woman. Sexual possession could easily be preceded by what one of the partners or a churchman might readily construe as an oath to wed. Now even secretly exchanged vows for the future became a canonically valid marriage after sexual relations, allowing a man to obtain a prohibited woman by seduction. Many an eloping woman may have entertained fully justified expections of matrimony when she consented to be abducted. But might not a smooth seducer adroitly make an ambiguous and empty promise just to have his way with a girl and then dash her hopes and abandon her at some forsaken spot far away from home? Municipal families seem to have thought so and tried at all cost to retrieve beguiled and forcibly abducted women who remained voluntarily with their kidnappers or attempted to flee to their seducers. They were plainly damaged goods. Caught between the sword of seduction and the wall of arranged marriage or spinsterhood at home, a woman evidently preferred to risk her chances with the man who had appropriated her highly perishable chastity. An abductor's psychological coercion of a woman by word and deed was an abominated ploy that a man could use to diverse advantage.

[144] To a woman's family the possibility of marriage between a disobedient girl and an unworthy man remained the most culpable of the scandalous events surrounding an abduction. Yet it was often advisable if not always inevitable for the families of the women involved to come to terms with the unavoidable fact of their daughter's determination to marry a man it opposed. Her family's acceptance frequently took place in a conference the abductor arranged. It enabled her to choose whether to remain with the man and be disinherited or return to her family without penalty. The conciliatory procedure was popularly styled medianedo after the intermunicipal parley used by towns to resolve boundary, livestock and criminal disputes between neighbouring communities. Spokesmen from two communities would meet at traditional or royally appointed locations, often a village, church or some other neutral middle ground, to settle squabbles between citizens of different towns. The matrimonial medianedo was a meeting held in the bride's town, usually in the assembly. It first appears as a means for settling differences between a local abductor and his victim's family early in the twelfth century at Calatayud and then at Daroca, in the shatter zone between Aragón and Castile where Alfonso I condoned the abduction of women into his towns. (47) In 1131 Calatayud protected kidnappers arriving with women, punished abductors of local women, but provided for the conference when one local citizen had taken the daughter of another. All the parties involved met in the presence of their neighbours, and the daughter was interrogated. If she preferred to stay with the man, she was punished for elopement, but he escaped retribution. If she returned to her family, only he was sentenced. Daroca gave him a month to arrange for the meeting before his goods were confiscated, but again the daughter was given the option of returning home without being disinherited. This matrimonial conference persisted for more than a century at many Castilian communities, whether or not they explicitly tolerated the irregular matrimonial procedures for incoming colonizers. (48) It furnished men with an opportunity to establish their innocence of forcible abduction and to escape punishment, although their wives were dispossessed. Provided the man was willing to accept a wife with no property, the parley served to legalize an otherwise criminal act which could cost him his life. Certainly he would refrain from bringing her unless he was reasonably certain in advance of her willingness to choose him, especially where he first had to release her [145] to her family, as Sepúlveda required. (49) The conference validated the marriage on the basis of the woman's consent, and it reassured her and her family that she had not been abducted and seduced only to be abandoned, but she was still penalized.

No provision was made for the medianedo compromise at Cuenca. This and other towns took an unyielding stand against abduction, elopement and a daughter's marriage without consent. They declared the girl both disinherited and outlawed. Custom here, moreover, admitted the dreadful possibility that an abducted woman was not in all cases unattached. Burning at the stake awaited the abductor of a married woman, together with full confiscation of his property by her husband, rather than the high fixed damages awarded to a daughter's family. Burning was a penalty usually reserved here for unpardonable female criminals, like the bigamous wife. If a wife conspired to elope with her abductor she, too, would be burned if caught, an understandable severity considering the obstacles a Castilian might encounter in obtaining a wife. (50) This could be a challenging task for a man, whether he followed formal procedures, persuaded a woman to elope with him, or resorted to the more risky step of kidnapping her against her will.

As late as 1428 Alfonso V of Aragón was condemning abductors of girls at Teruel when they failed to pay the pecuniary penalties or come to an understanding with their victims' families, now punishing them with the death penalty for failure to appear. (51) There can be little doubt that the illegal practices outlived the original purpose of royally tolerated bride theft and the municipal privilege to aggressive soldiers to kidnap women into towns where they were notably scarce. Abduction privileges, however, were not the only impetus to the irregular courtship and matrimonial procedures. These were spawned by the requirements but nourished by ecclesiastical recognition and toleration of clandestine marriages contracted without parental consent. Women clearly took advantage of the Church's liberality, if perhaps not always consciously, but the character of municipal settlement gave couples ample opportunity to put the new matrimonial principles into practice.

With careful planning an eloping couple would slip away without being caught and only be convicted once they were safely gone, probably most easily in the daytime before the town's gates were barred. The man's high fine and the daughter's disinheritance compensated her family for her departure. The latter penalty also [146] compensated the community by preventing her from exporting local wealth. Even when custom permitted the man's safe return to settle the dispute and shed his penalties in a parley with her relatives, her disinheritance and her family's prior refusal of consent probably still discouraged the couple from staying in her town. Certainly where the medianedo was not an alternative, or the woman was already married, the couple had no choice but to flee. Illegal marriages fed migration, whether the woman left voluntarily or was forcibly grabbed by a man who had in mind her hasty removal to another place from the start. Chances to begin a new life anonymously but propitiously far away from home gave a man cause to plot an abduction without inordinate apprehension about the future, knowing that his presence was greatly in demand at other settlements. Daughters and perhaps even married women must also have shared this optimism and the nerve such a move required.

Medieval communities tolerated abduction and elopement for incoming colonizers but punished abductors and their victims or coconspirators who attempted to marry and leave the girl's town illegally. Beatings of a girl's novio from another town, a foreigner who has successfully courted a local woman, have been reported in twentieth-century Castile. Sometimes he may be dunked ceremoniously in the fountain or obliged to treat local men to a round of drinks at the bar, punishment and compensation for the woman's impending departure at their expense. (52) These rituals illustrate the possessiveness of Castilians towards local women, and they may have ageless roots. Moreover, livestock and woman rustling were probably for many centuries a favourite and profitable occupation of their ancestors. Certainly the seizure of women took place alongside the capture of livestock during the endemic warfare between the medieval Christian north and Al-Andalus, but the need to shield women from abduction did not arise solely or even primarily as a result of marauding Muslims. Christian men were the prevailing menace.

Perhaps we should blame Don Amor, like the author of the Libro de buen amor, who wrote after the close of the Reconquest epoch in the early fourteenth century. Sir Love, like a thief, stalked a woman or hunted her like a predatory bird in search of hidden quarry. The prey's father, meanwhile kept her secluded and guarded at home. Juan Ruiz, the author, was a wryly knowledgeable authority on alternative courtship and marriage procedures. The marriageable [147] townswoman, persuaded to leave the protection of her house by an alcahueta, the old woman hired to draw her out into the plaza, was then no longer safe, but in danger not only from the ignominious seducer. (53) She was vulnerable also to the attentions of an earnest abductor who, heaven forfend, might convince her to elope. At many towns alcahuetas were burned at the stake, a penalty that did not curtail the deployment of their invaluable talents on behalf of seducers, some of whom had both long-term and long-range designs on their victims.

All the women of a town of course did not have to be admonished to beware the Parises and Don Juans who frequented their community, and not all were held to the consent laws. Such women, however, were disposable, like the bachelor's barragana who, unless particularly fortunate, remained but a temporary and convenient substitute for a suitable wife. She was not to be disparaged since she could tame the young, root the reckless, and discourage abduction of the high-status townswoman. Regulated barraganía worked together with harsh penalties for abduction and elopement to uphold the determination of a town's leading families to discourage men and women from leaving while maintaining social endogamy within the community. The circulation of freebooters and opportunists, among the more worthy and agreeable types attracted to Reconquest towns, obliged privileged citizens already in residence to limit access to and even confine their daughters. While preferring social endogamy in principle, town residents were notably keen on defending it against assault at its most vulnerable points, that is, among the best daughters of a community. Daughters might wilfully elope, but they were spurred on by men with a high degree of initiative, aggression and cunning, qualities valuable in any soldier and colonizer. When such a man came to a community alone, he might take up with a barragana, but he would be denied a wife of the highest status. Once he settled down, perhaps eventually marrying a local woman, he would of course be permitted to withhold from other men, even unreasonably, access to his daughter.

Notes for Chapter Five

1. I Toledo 17, VC, p. 24. Isidore called concubinage 'inaequale coniugium' (Bidagor, 'Sobre la naturaleza', p.268). Esmein, Le Mariage, vol.2, pp. 125-39; Le Clercq, 'Mariage', cols. 1847-9; Brundage, 'Concubinage', pp. 1-17.

2. LF 142 ('fijo de barragano e fijo de abad'). FVillavicencio ('filio baragan'), MC, p. 179. FAlcalá 61 ('filio barragan'). Crónica de la población de Ávila, ed. Hernández Segura, p. 26 ('buen barragan'). See Corominas, Diccionario crítico etimológico de la lengua castellana (4 vols., Bern and Madrid, 1954-7), vol. I, pp. 408-9, who corrects errors in earlier works, including Partidas 4.14.1, cited by the seventeenth-century S. Covarrubias Orozco, Tesoro de la lengua castellana o española, ed. M. de Riquier (Barcelona, 1943), p. 196. Maldonado, La condición, pp. 124-6; Fernández Regatello, 'El derecho matrimonial', pp. 348-50; Carlé, 'Apuntes', pp. 168-76.

3. FZamora 38. FPlasencia 482; see also cap. 404. Cf. FLa Novenera 267. FCuenca 23.18; FIznatoraf 559; FAlcaraz 8.95; FBaeza 560; FZorita 489; FBéjar 726; FTeruel 197; FPlasencia 265. FAlarcón 498 omits her.

4. FZamora 38. FUclés 46, 47. For later popular objections to splendid attire worn by barraganas of priests, see, e.g., Contes of Valladolid (1351), pet. 24 (Cortes, vol. 2, pp. 14-15).

5. FDaroca, MC, p. 536. FTeruel 4; FLTeruel 6; FAlbarracín 5. Occasionally, however, this bastard could receive a cash gift from its father, as, e.g., FDaroca, MC, p. 538 and FAlfambra 72. For the natural bastard's claims unless excluded by bequest or gift, see FViguera 307-11, 317, 358, 385, 476, also possible in Aragon, as FJaca ms A 14, 149, 162; ms B 163 (Pamplona) calls this child 'filltz de barragana', a rare use of the term in Navarre; cf. FEstella 2.38.1, 2. FJaca ms A2 I (Jaca) changes the earlier law to disqualify natural bastards from a share of inheritance unless given a specific bequest. Vidal Mayor, Traducción aragonesa de la obra In excelsis Dei thesauris de Vidal de Canellas, ed. Tilander, Leges Hispaniae Medii Aevi, vols. 4-6 (3 vols., Lund, 1956), vol. 2, pp. 409-10 (6.17: De natis ex dampnato coytu); cf. Partidas 4.14, 15.

6. LF 175, 186; PON 21, 18; POL 54; FAntiguo 18; FViejo 5.6.1, 2.

7. LF 169, 287 (Logroño), and cf. cap. 308.

8. FCuenca 10.30; FIznatoraf 207; FAlarcón 198; FAlcaraz 3.104; FBaeza 211; Fzorita 213; FBéjar 262; FTeruel 445. FSoria 323, FBrihuega, p. 167 and FFuentes 111 allow this only for a wife, while FDaroca (MC, p. 536) denies her tutelage.

9. FMolina, p. 138. FCuenca 11.38, 40; FIznatoraf 260, 262; FAlarcón 246, 248; FAlcaraz 4.39, 41; FBaeza 260, 262; FZorita 262, 264; FBéjar 336, 338; FTeruel 489, 491; FPlasencia 103. For the mother's ordeal, see the earlier FDaroca (1142, MC, p. 541) and her request that the father recognize her child before his death (ibid., p. 536); FAlfambra 72 permits a child to take the ordeal for her. Note the disbelief of the man in FAlarcón 248 and his lack of responsibility against his wishes in FPeralta (1144, MC, p. 550). FBrihuega p. 146 requires him to pay her the nurse's wage for three years, but recognition is voluntary only. FSoria 362 and FReal 3.8.3 permit Muslim and Jewish women to bring paternity suits against Christian fathers for child support.

10. FZamora 38. FSalamanca 209. FLedesma 136.

11. FMolina, p. 76. FAlcalá 277. FBrihuega, pp. 185-6; FFuentes 182. FSepúlveda 61. FSoria 318, 332. Otero, 'Sobre la realidad histórica de la adopción', AHDE 27-8 (1957-8), 1143-9.

12. FSoria 318. FReal 3.6.1 permits a fifth of movables.

13. FSoria 317; FReal 3.6.2. For a fourteenth-century formula in which a man can honour his barragana's express desire to become his legal wife by swearing canonical 'verba de praesenti', see Formularium instrumentorum, ed. Sanchez, AHDE 6 (1927), 392.

14. FMolina, pp. 74, 75. FAlcalá 34. FBrihuega, p. 181; FFuentes 183. FCastrotorafe (1178), MC, p. 482. LF 142. Cf. FJaca ms A 165.

15. Conc. of Coyanza 3.15, ed. Garcia Gallo, 'El concilio de Coyanza', p. 294. For the proclamation of IV Lateran against clerical concubinage in Castile, see Conc. of Valladolid (1228), TC, vol. 3, pp. 325-6; for its persistence, P. Linehan, The Spanish church and the papacy in the thirteenth century, Cambridge Studies in Medieval Life and Thought, 3rd ser., vol. 4 (Cambridge, 1971), pp. 29-30, 66-7, 83-5, 93, 87-98, 186.

16. E.g., Privilegio concedido a los clerigos de Toledo par Alfonso VII (1128), MC, p.370. FPlasencia 316. FUsagre 202. FAlba 119. FCoria 209. See above, n. 4.

17. FCuenca 11.36, 37; FIznatoraf 258, 259; FAlarcón 244, 245; FAlcaraz 4.35, 37, 38; FBéjar 332-5; FTeruel 487, 488; FPlasencia 100. Cf. FBaeza 259, where both were burned for bigamy; and FZorita 259-61, where a woman was burned, a man outlawed. By FBrihuega, pp. 146, 177, male bigamists were hanged, women burned; the married man with a mistress was banished for a year, his mistress flogged; but no mention is made of the wife who took a lover. For the adulteress, see below, Ch. 8. For the male bigamist, cf. FViguera 399 and FSoria 324; FReal 3.6.4.

18. FAlfambra 43, differently, also punishes the married woman's lover, as also FAgramunt (1113, Urgel), MC, p. 402. Later in Aragon (e.g., FJaca ms A 65, 66, 154) the penalties were fines, confiscation of clothes (evidently not public exposure) and sometimes only for the husband, with loss of endowment (arras) for a wife, but rarely flogging.

19. E.g., FPlasencia 684 and FLedesma 362. Lopez Ortiz has emphasized the prevalence of monogamy in Muslim Toledo by the eleventh century, except that the female captive or slave could become a concubine ('Algunos capitulos', pp. 323-4, 330).

20. Primera crónica general, ed. Menéndez Pidal, vol. 1, pp. 316, 307-8, 319-20. For a locally famous abduction, see Crónica de la población de Ávila, ed. Hernández Segura, pp 27-9.

21. J. Marcio de Cossío, 'Cautivos de moros en el siglo XIII, el texto de Pero Marín', Al-Andalus 7 (1942), 65-6, 68, 70, 82.

22. LV and FJuzgo 3.3.1, 2. D'Ors, El código, pp. 138-50; Gibert, 'El consentimiento', pp. 706-23; Meynial, 'Le Mariage après les invasions', pp. 514-31, 737-62; Merêa, 'Le Mariage "sine consensu parentum" dans le droit romain vulgaire occidental', Mélanges Fernand de Visscher, Tome 5, vol. 4 (Brussels, '950), pp. 211-17; idem, '0 Dote visigótico', pp. 49-61; H. de Gama Barros, História de administração pública em Portugal nos seculos XII a XV, 2nd edn by T. de Sousa Soares (11 vols., Lisbon, 1945-54), vol. 6, pp. 426-46; R. Köstler, 'Raub-, Kauf- und Friedelehe bei den Germanen', Zeitschrift der Savigny-Stiftung für Rechtsgeschichte, Germanistische Abteilung 63 (1943), 92-136.

23. LV and FJuzgo 3.3.3-6, 8; 3.4.14-16.

24. LV and FJuzgo 3.3.7, 3.2.8; cf. 3.4.7, 8.

25. E.g., FLJaca 12 (1063); see below, Ch. 7.

26. Charter, MC, p. 22; but see Puyol, Orígenes, pp. 342-3, 359-60. Orlandis, 'Sobre el concepto del delito',pp. 164-71. J.P. Machado, Dicionário etimologica da Língua portuguesa, 2nd edn (3 vols., Lisbon, 1967), vol. 3, pp. 2033-4, s.v., roussar.

27. FLeón 19, 24. Tumbo viejo de Lugo, fol. 9, no. 10 (1027), quoted in Sanchez Albornoz, Estudios críticos sobre la historia del reino de Asturias (3 vols., Oviedo, 1972-5), vol. 3, pp. 449-50 n.

28. E.g., FSanta Cristina (1062), MC, p. 222; but see the subsequent royal prosecution of rapists in the amendments of 1226, later repeated, Alfonso IX, vol. 2, pp. 584, 600. FValle (1094), MC, p. 332. FVilla Celema (1153), ed. González, 'Aportación de fueros leoneses', AHDE 14 (1942-3), 561-2. FVillavicencio (1156), MC, pp. 171, 176-7, 178. FCastrocalbón (1156), ed. Díez Canseco, 'Sobre los fueros', p. 375. FVilla Alfonso and FVenefaragues (1157), ed. Ríus Serra, 'Nuevos fueros de tierras de Zamora', p. 445. FPajares (before 1157), ed. Diez Canseco, 'Sobre los fuenos', p. 374. FRabanal (1169), ibid., p. 380. FVillavaruz de Rioseco I (1181), HD, p. 82. FVillafrontín 6 (1192), ed. R. Rodríguez, 'Fueros de Villafrontón (despoblado de Castroverde de Campos)', Archivos leoneses 3 (1949), 115-16. FCastroverde (1202), Alfonso IX, vol. 2, p. 228. FSan Tirso and FCastrilleno 2 (1208), HD, p. 105. FSanabria (1220), Alfonso IX, vol. 2, p. 514. Fribas de Sil (1225), ibid., 570. FBonoburgo de Caldelas (1228, citing the no longer extant FAllariz of Ferndando II as precedent), ibid., p. 627. FSan Llorente de Paramo 6 (1262), HD, p. 174.

29. E.g., FFresno, ed. Lacanra and Vázquez de Parga, 'Fueros leoneses inéditos', AHDE 6 (1929), 431. FNegrilla de Palencia, ed. Gonzalez, 'Aportación de fueros leoneses', p. 563. FZofraga, ibid., p. 565. FVillafranca, Alfonso IX, vol. 2, p. 79. FCarrecedo, ibid., p. 394. FNoz, ed. Ríuz Serra, 'Nuevos fueros de tienras de Zamora', p. 450. FTuy, MM, p. 517. FVillarente 4, HD, p. 161. FSanta Maria de Seseriz 6, ibid., p. 179. FPalazuelos, ed. Ríus Serra, 'Nuevos fueros de tiernas de Zamora', p. 462.

30. FSan Román (1222), Alfonso IX, vol. 2, p. 539.

31. FPalenzuela (1074), MC, p.276 conf. before 1214, Alfonso VIII, vol. 3, pp. 640-1. FVillasila and FVillamelendro (1180), ibid., vol. 2, pp. 555-6. FBelbimbre (1187), ibid., p. 818. FPampliega (1209), ibid., vol. 3, p. 465. FSan Juan de Celia (1209), ibid., p. 499. Charters of Alfonso VI affecting lands in the diocese of Burgos (MC, pp. 261-2, 264) represent the most eastern of the rausum fines.

32. E.g., FBelchite, MC, p. 413. FCarcastillo, ibid., p. 417. FCáseda, ibid., p. 475. FDaroca, ibid., p. 536. FLara, ibid., p. 521. FMolina, p. 73.

33. FCardona, MC, pp. 52, 53-4. FLSepúlveda 17. FEncisa, MC, p. 472. FCalatayud 8. FMarañón, MC, p. 498.

34. FGuadalajara, CD, p. 108. FOreja 7, ed. C. Gutiérrez del Arroyo, 'Fueros de Oreja y Ocaña', AHDE 17 (1946), 651-62. FOcaila 4, ibid.

35. FESepúlveda 63. FViguera 271. See the grant of FToledo to Ocaña (1251), MM, p. 629; and Garcia Gallo, 'Los fueros de Toledo', p. 456 n. FPlasencia 20. FLCáceres, Alfonso IX, vol. 2, p. 692. FLobeira, ibid., p. 645. For Portugal, e.g., FFresno (1152), PMH, pt 1, vol. I, p. 379; FOrrio (1182), ibid., p. 424; FSancta Cruce (1225), ibid., p. 602; A. A. d'Aguiar, 'Aforciamento, rauso e rapto (Contribüção para da história da medicina legal portuguesa)', Arquivo da Universidade de Lisboa 10 (1925) 47-93.

36. E.g., FCalatayud 8, 9. FMarañón, MC, p. 496.

37. FSan Román, Alfonso IX, vol. 2, p. 229. FZamora 33. FSalamanca 212; FLedesma 138. FAlba 18-20 and 3, 21. More plainly seduction in FCastroverde, Alfonso IX, vol. 2, p. 229; FParga, ed. González, 'Aportación de fueros castellano-leoneses', p. 651; FLlanes 24.

38. FPalenzuela (1074), MC, p. 276. FFresnillo 11 (1104), HD, p. 47. FPozuelo de Campos 18 (1157?), ibid., p. 66. FAlhóndiga 6 (1170), ibid., p. 75. FLUclés II (1179); FEUclès 11. FZorita (1180), Alfonso VIII, vol. 2, pp. 572, 575. FPalencia 36 (1181). FSanta Maria de Cortes (1182), CD, pp. 114-15. FHaro (1187), Alfonso VIII, vol. 2, p. 805. FValfermoso (1189), CD, p. 119. FIbrillos (before 1214), Alfonso VIII, vol. 3, p. 651. FMolina, pp. 125-6, 148. FAlfambra 44. FCuenca 11.24; FIznatoraf 246; FAlarcón 232; FAlcaraz 4.24; FBaeza 247; FBéjar 318; FTeruel 476; FPlasencia 66.

39. FMiranda 24 (1099). FToledo (1118), MC, p. 366; FToledo 31 (c. 1166); FEscalona 16 (1130). FEZorita 248, differing here from FCuenca 11.24, et fora alia. Garcia Gallo ('Los fueros de Toledo', pp. 434-6) suggests trans-Pyrenean influence in the adoption of the death penalty at Toledo where rape as well as abduction is envisioned.

40. FLUclés 11 (1179). FMedinaceli (1180s), MC, p. 440. FGuadalajara 82. FAlcalá 69. FBrihuega, p. 168; FFuentes 116. LF 183; FViejo 5.5.1.

41. FCalatayud 8 (1131). FLUclés 11 (1179). FCuenca 11.24, et fora alia (abduction law); also 13.9; FIznatoraf 321; FAlarcón 300; FAlcaraz 4.96; FBaeza 320; FZorita 315; FBéjar 404 (marriage without consent). FTeruel 476 and FPlasencia 66 (abduction laws only). FBaeza 247 (abduction) omits the daughter's disinheritance but retains enemistad; both are in cap. 320 (marriage without consent). Many towns prescribe disinheritance only: FAlcalá 69. FBrihuega, p. 168; FFuentes 116. FCoria 60; FCáceres 68; FUsagre 67. LF 1,183; FViejo 5.5.1, 2. FBurgos (1227), MM, p. 357.

42. FCuenca 11.24, et fora alia. FAlba 18. FSalamanca 212; FLedesma 138.

43. FAlcalá 89.

44. FZamora 35; see an instance of this in LF 278.

45. FCoria 59, 64, 287; FCáceres 67, 72, 276; FUsagre 66, 72, 295. Merêa, 'Em Torno do "casamento de juras", Estudos de Direito hispânico, vol. 1, pp. 151-71.

46. FReal 3.1.1, 10. FSoria 289 declares the competence of the Church in matrimonial matters, while FSepúlveda 232 claims for the alcaldes authority over questions of matrimonial property. Cf. FSalamanca 252 and FLedesma 171.

47. FCalatayud 8. FDaroca, MC, p. 537. E. Gorría, 'El medianedo en León y Castilla', CHE 12 (1949), 120-9; 5. Kalifa, 'Singularités matrimoniales chez les anciens germains: le Rapt et le droit de la femme a disposer d'elle-même', RHD 48 (1970), 199-225.

48. FAlcalá 15. LF 188; FViejo 2.2.1. FAlba 18. FSalamanca 212; FLedesma 138. FSan Román, Alfonso IX, vol. 2, p. 539. FSepúlveda 35. In Portugal, FFresno (1152), PMH, pt 1, vol. 1, p. 380; FOrrio (1182), ibid., p. 426; FSancta Cruce (1225), ibid., p. 603. In Aragon, FJaca ms B 184. In Navarre, FViguera 474 and FGeneral de Navarra 4.3.1.

49. FSepúlveda 35, with the possibility of appeal to the king; for royal intervention, see below, Ch. 7.

50. FCuenca 11.25; FIznatoraf 247; FAlarcón 233; FAlcaraz 4.25 FBaeza 248; FZorita 249; FBéjar 319; FTeruel 477; FPlasencia 66. FAlfambra 43 envisions her connivance and their absconding with her or her husband's property; for this he was fined and both were flogged if caught, as above, n. 18. For such a couple in 1059, see the charter, ed. A. Prieto Prieto, 'Referentes al orden judicial del monasterio de Sahagtin', AHDE 45 (1975), 517-18.

51. Forus super raptu, ed. Caruana Gómez, 'Las adiciones al fuero de Teruel', AHDE 25 (1955), 699-701; the parley is unforeseen in FTeruel.

52. J. Pitt-Rivers, The people of the Sierra, 2nd edn (Chicago, 1971), p. 9; C. Lison-Tolosana, Belmonte de los Caballeros: A sociological study of a Spanish town (London, 1966, repr. Princeton, 1983), p. 174; M. Kenny, A Spanish tapestry: Town and country in Castile (London, 1961), p. 65; S. T. Freeman, 'The "municipios" of northern Spain: A view from the fountain', Currents in anthropology: Essays in honor of Sal Tax (The Hague, Pans and New York, 1979), pp. 183-6.

53. Juan Ruiz, Libro de buen amor, ed.J.Joset (Madrid, 1974), coplas 393, 725, 882-5. Cf. S. de Moxó, 'La sociedad en La Alcarria durante la época del Arcipreste', BRAH 171 (1974) 261-2.