The Life and Times of Diego Gelmírez
of Santiago de Compostela
R. A. Fletcher
© R.A. Fletcher 1984
Used with permission of Oxford University Press
The Bishop in his Diocese
 'I am the servant and herald of almighty God, empowered to protect the rights of holy church.' Bishops have been instituted 'to lead their subject people, to instruct them in the Lord's teachings. . . we pontiffs are the most exalted servants among the ministers of God. . . to us kings, dukes, princes, all the people reborn in Christ, are subject; we exercise responsibility for all men.' So Diego lectured queen Urraca in 1113.(1) This is heady rhetoric, but it gives us some clues as to how he viewed his role. Such claims on behalf of bishops were neither new nor unusual, and Diego was supported in them by his ecclesiastical superiors. When Urraca imprisoned him in 1121 pope Calixtus II reminded her sharply that Diego was God's and Christ's vicar (Dei et Christi eius vicarium).(2) However, we should never forget that Diego exercised temporal as well as spiritual lordship, was charged with secular as well as ecclesiastical responsibilities. His biographers referred to him as 'the shield of his fatherland' (clypeus patriae), 'the head and mirror of Galicia' (caput et speculum Gallaeciae), and the like.(3) These two roles, the ecclesiastical and the secular, overlapped and interpenetrated at every stage of his career. It is impossible for the historian to distinguish them, and he may take comfort from the likelihood that it rarely occurred to Diego himself so to distinguish. 'Just as princes exercising secular power reward those who serve them faithfully, so I Diego. . . (make a grant of privileges). . . to you abbot Pedro and the monastery of Antealtares.'(4) Precisely so. Or, more pithily, in the memorable phrase of his panegyrists,  Diego was at once both the crozier and the catapult of St. James.(5)
Unlike some of his contemporaries in other parts of the Iberian peninsula -- notably the archbishops of Toledo -- Diego presided over an ecclesiastical structure which was already very old when he became bishop of Compostela. The great achievement of the previous five hundred years in the ecclesiastical history of Galicia had been the slow diffusion of Christianity in the countryside. Even in those parts of Europe where the surviving sources are reasonably abundant this process remains mysterious. In Galicia the sources are extremely sparse: in particular, we have no early hagiography apart from the Vita Fructuosi, and the archaeology of early medieval Galicia is still in its infancy; there is little conciliar material, and few charters before c. 850. We do know, however, that a large number of rural churches had been founded. Our starting-point is that precious document known as the Suevic Parochiale of c. 580.(6) It lists the principal churches of each see, diocese by diocese. While it is emphatically not a complete census of churches then in existence, there is some reason for supposing that few other churches did then exist, beyond those named. With this we may contrast the evidence provided by a number of surveys from the late eleventh and early twelfth centuries. The most revealing of these is the so-called Censual compiled in the diocese of Braga probably between 1085 and 1089.(7) It lists the parish churches and the dues they owed every year to the bishop (as he then was) for the area between the rivers Lima and Ave, a region corresponding to only about a tenth of the diocesan territory, but that the most densely-settled and the richest. Comparison of the sixth-century Parochiale and the eleventh-century Censual yields startling results. In the late sixth century there were  thirty principal churches (including the cathedral church of Braga) in the whole diocese; in the late eleventh there were 573 parish churches between the Lima and the Ave alone. From the diocese of Compostela we have comparable lists for certain areas whose ecclesiastical allegiance was a matter of dispute between the bishoprics of Mondoñedo and Compostela in the early years of the twelfth century.(8) Here too the results are startling. The Suevic Parochiale listed eight churches in the diocese of Iria; not one of them lay to the north of the river Tambre, in the extreme north-westerly corner of Galicia. We possess a list of churches in the district known as Bezoucos -- the peninsula between the Ría de El Ferrol and the Ría de Ares -- compiled in 1110. The Bezoucos peninsula is only about eight miles long and at its widest point no more than four miles wide. There were eleven parish churches there in the early twelfth century. In the only slightly larger neighbouring district of Trasancos, to the north of the modern town of El Ferrol, there were fifteen.
How had these churches come into existence? Some owed their foundation to ecclesiastical initiative. The church at Cela in the diocese of Tuy had been constructed, so it was believed in the early twelfth century, by St. Fructuosus of Braga.(9) We have already seen that Odoario, bishop of Lugo, was active in the foundation of rural churches in the middle years of the eighth century.(10) It is likely, however, that the great majority were built on the initiative of prominent local laymen. We learn from a document possibly of the ninth century of the church at Vilariño in Nendos 'which Romanus founded with his dependants' (fecit cum suis gasalianis); or of the church of Folgoso founded in the tenth century by Aloitus, Zendon and Segeredus and their wives on their own land.(11)
While the motives that led men and women to establish these churches were doubtless diverse -- and some were certainly envisaged as straightforward investments(12) -- we can be sure that nearly  all these foundations remained 'proprietary churches'. That is to say, the church with its endowments and profits remained the possession of the founder's kin, and like any other possession was subject to partition among co-heirs and co-heiresses in successive generations. This is the reason for the extraordinary fragmentation of rights in churches, just as of rights over land, serfs, livestock, etc., which we encounter in the Galician charters of the tenth, eleventh and twelfth centuries. Scores of examples could be cited: let two suffice, both from Diego's day, and both from areas already mentioned in this chapter.
The village of Franza was probably the largest settlement in Bezoucos. Its church, dedicated to Santiago, was sometimes referred to as a monasterium. In the early years of the twelfth century the church was shared among various members of the Traba family. Between the years 1114 and 1148 it passed bit by bit into the control of the monks of Jubia, after a series of transactions (four gifts, two sales) between six separate individuals and the monastery.(13) In neighbouring Trasancos, the church of St. Mary at Val was similarly divided, as we learn from an undated document of c. 1150:(14)
These are the partitions of Sta. Maria Mayor (=Val) in Trasancos. Suero Peláez was the husband of Ermesenda and they had three children -- Gonzalo, Fernanda and Elvira Suárez. On the death of their parents they divided that church between them in three parts. Gonzalo Suárez had six children -- Oveco, Azenda, Froila, Guntroda, Ermesenda and Jimena González. When Oveco González was born his aunt Elvira Suárez and her husband Osorio gave him the whole of their third share of the church to celebrate his birth (? in afiliatione). Oveco himself had a sixth of the other third which had belonged to his father. He also acquired the sixth belonging to (his sister) Azenda González by judgement of Pedro González before count Fernando. . .At this point the story peters out, though we know that Oveco's daughter Guntroda gave her share of the church, inherited from her father, to the canons of Caabeiro in 1165. Diego Gelmírez almost certainly owned churches, though his biographers -- perhaps significantly -- never tell us so. His brother Munio, as we have already seen, gave his shares in five  churches to the cathedral of Santiago, and Munio's children inherited shares in other churches from their father.(15) But Diego knew that ecclesiastical reformers frowned on the proprietary church system. Their disapproval was voiced in successive church councils. The legislation issued at every major council of Diego's adult life, from Clermont in 1095 to II Lateran in 1139, contained canons forbidding laymen to exploit churches and their endowments and tithes. This legislation was received and diffused in western Spain. In 1114, for example, Diego's council of Compostela prohibited the buying and selling of churches or their granting by charter to laymen (seu alicui laico incartet).(16) In 1117 cardinal Boso's council of Burgos, which was attended by at least one Galician bishop though not by Diego himself, prohibited the partition of churches and their endowments in accordance with the norms of secular law, and forbade the alienation of church property to kinsfolk, except -- a revealing saving-clause -- 'in cases of need' (pro paupertate).(17)
The passage of proprietary churches from lay into ecclesiastical hands was the most considerable and lasting achievement of the reforming churchmen of western Christendom between c. 1050 and c.1200. (Whether or not its results were beneficial is quite another matter.) The process was certainly going forward in the diocese of Compostela during Diego's tenure of the see. Our sources rarely permit us to glimpse the motives that lay behind the recorded surrenders of churches. Thus the Historia Compostellana, which records many such transactions, usually notes them in the bleak form 'X gave the church at Y to St. James'. For instance, early in Diego's episcopate count Sancho gave the church at Maurim (unidentified, probably near Mellid) to Santiago.(18) Some of the gifts of churches of which we hear may have been concealed sales. Given queen Urraca's insolvency, we might suspect that the surrenders of churches which she made to Diego, for instance in 1115 and 1116, were made  in return for some kind of payment.(19) Some grants of churches were made by way of compensation, or in ecclesiastical terms penance, for wrongdoing. At some point in the early 1120s count Pedro Froílaz struck Alfonso, count of Limia, inside the cathedral of Santiago; for this act of sacrilege Diego 'imposed a fitting penance in accordance with the precepts of canon law'; the offender was compelled to surrender the church of Cospindo to St. James.(20) Other acquisitions of churches were recoveries of foundations previously held which had been alienated. We hear of churches 'justly liberated', or 'freed from the thirsty covetousness of knights'.(21) Some light on what such phrases might mean is cast by the sources relating to the church of Piadela in Nendos.(22) The church there had been founded probably towards the middle of the tenth century. Shortly before 1020 it had been restored by the descendants of the founders, Fronosilde and her brother Vimara Gundemáriz, evidently as some sort of monastic community. But it was to pass to Santiago after their deaths. We next hear of it in 1101, in the earliest surviving of Diego Gelmírez's episcopal acta. The estate and church had been granted by an earlier bishop of Compostela to certain knights (milites) as a benefice (in atonito). They held it for some time. Bishop Diego Peláez recovered the church and entrusted it to the archdeacon of Nendos, Juan Rodríguez, who completely rebuilt it. Diego Gelmírez consecrated the new church for the use of 'the clergy leading the religious life there' -- they are not described as monks -- and laid down that henceforward no lay person was to have any power (imperium) over it.
Matters did not always proceed smoothly. The acquisition of a church by an ecclesiastical corporation could be a protracted business, as we saw in the case of Franza, and it could be a contentious one. The case of the church of Sabugueira furnishes a good example.(23) This was a well-endowed church  lying a few miles to the east of Compostela. Diego initially acquired a quarter-share of it, and later the remainder. But his possession of it was contested by the family of Bermudo Suárez who claimed it as his property (pro hereditate). Eventually the parties agreed to compromise, dividing the church and its endowment equally between them. However, a third party represented by Sabugueira's priest, another Bermudo, lodged claims against both the contenders, took his case to the royal court of Alfonso VII, and won it. It was not until after this Bermudo's death that the church of Compostela received its due share.
Diego's dealings with proprietary churches demonstrate to perfection the intermingling of pastoral care and lordly stewardship already referred to. It was Diego's job to care for his saintly patron's material interests in lands, rights and churches. At the same time, as a bishop charged with guiding the spiritual life of a Christian community, Diego was in duty bound to swim with the reforming currents in the church at large and to encourage the drift of proprietary churches from lay to ecclesiastical control. Happily for him the crozier and the catapult were one and the same. The encouragement of this drift was perhaps the most important of Diego's pastoral endeavours. To it he could bring those talents and qualities of character which had served him so well in the pursuit of his other ambitions: his intimate knowledge of local aristocratic and gentry families; his legal expertise; his flair for fixing, for wheeling and dealing; his tact, patience and tenacity; his opportunism, ruthlessness and lack of scruple. In his pastoral activities he had also at his disposal a workable machinery of diocesan administration and in his entourage a team of servants both able and dedicated.
It was assumed that every settlement (locus) in the diocese was subject to the ministrations of an archdeacon and/or (sive) an archpriest (or rural dean).(24) This information allows us to infer the existence of territorial circumscriptions whose clergy and people were under the direction of ecclesiastical officials who were themselves answerable in the last  resort to the diocesan. But we can do better than resort to inference. A succession of documents ranging in purported date from the early ninth to the early twelfth century hints at the existence of such territorial administrative divisions from an early period. Furthermore, the names of some of the regions thus revealed may be identified with most of the names furnished by the Suevic Parochiale of the late sixth century in its listing of what were then the principal local churches of the diocese of Iria. An example will serve both to introduce the evidence and to tantalize the reader with the perspectives it opens up.
Pestemarcos is the name of one of the principal churches listed in the Suevic Parochiale. (It should not escape notice that this Celtic name-form is obviously many years older than the Suevic period.) Pistomarcos is named as one of the divisions of the diocese of Iria in a document ostensibly of the year 830 and perhaps most conveniently labelled the Ordinatio Tructini.(25) In the same form, and with the same signification, the name occurs again in what purports to be a charter of Alfonso V of 1019 recording the results of a 'great inquisition' (exquisitio magna) into the rights and privileges of the church of Iria.(26)Pistomarcos is listed among the districts (dioceses) of the bishopric of Iria in a schedule preserved by the Chronicon Iriense, a work which took on its final shape in Compostela in about 1080-90.(27)Pistomarcus features in Paschal II's solemn privilege of 1110 as one of the divisions of the diocese of Santiago de Compostela.(28) Finally, Pistomarchis was one of the archipresbyterates, or rural deaneries, of the archdiocese in the time of archbishop Pedro Suárez in 1177.(29) Postmarcos is the name of the peninsula to the west of Padrón between the Ría de Muros and the Ría de Arosa; the village of Postmarcos is on the southern side of that peninsula. An early ecclesiastical foundation, perhaps originally serving the needs of what had once been a pre-Roman Celtic tribal group, may thus  be traced from the sixth century to the twelfth, after which its history is that of a minor cog in the vast and intricate machinery of Latin Catholic bureaucracy. It is an imposing genealogy, and one that can only rarely be matched among the multitudinous rural deaneries of the western church.
But the chain of institutional, as of human, genealogy is only as strong as its individual links. And the documents that form the links in this chain are woefully lacking in credibility. They have taken a punishing from the bruisers who have operated to such sparkling effect in the ring of early Spanish diplomatics -- notably from Barrau-Dihigo(30) -- and emerged battered. I am inclined to think that these early instruments deserve more credence than the hard men of the École des Chartes allowed them. But the case would take long and intricate argument to present, and the attempt will not be made here. Instead, let us proceed (in a distinguished tradition) 'from the known to the unknown'.
In 1177 archbishop Pedro Suárez carried out a reorganization of the administrative structure of his diocese. The document recording the arrangements, though surviving only in a corrupt copy of the fourteenth century, is agreed to be reliable.(31) The archdiocese was divided into five administrative areas, the jurisdiction, of the dean (decania) and the four archdeaconries of Salnés, Cornado, Nendos and Trastámara. Each of these five regions was subdivided into archipresbyterates; so that, for example, Bezoucos was in the archdeaconry of Nendos, and Postmarcos subject to the dean. Of the thirty-one subdivisions listed in the 1177 document, at least twenty-four can be identified in evidence surviving from the period of Diego Gelmírez's tenure of the see; of the seven remaining districts, four had been created by the splitting-up of the old district of Deza, itself well-attested in documents of Diego's day: only three districts remain unaccounted for. In this evidence from Diego's pontificate, each district was usually referred to as a territorium or a terra, occasionally as a pagus.(32) The district  names were used for the identification of places in legal documents: in conveyances of land, for instance, the scribe would identify a place by describing it as situated in terra / territorio de X.(33) The assumption was that the district and its bounds were well known; that this state of affairs had persisted since a distant antiquity. The same impression is conveyed by the evidence relating to the long-drawn-out dispute between the dioceses of Mondoñedo and Santiago de Compostela over their common boundary.(34) Were certain archipresbyterates in the diocese of Mondoñedo or in that of Compostela? The existence of these administrative divisions with their evidently well-known territorial bounds was taken for granted; they had been there time out of mind; they were a given factor in the dispute. Yet again, the same impression is conveyed by the few pieces of evidence we possess which bear upon the careers of some of the archdeacons. Juan Rodríguez, who received the church of Piadela in Nendos from bishop Diego Peláez, may be traced as archdeacon of Nendos between 1087 and 1110. He was active in building churches there and assisted in the foundation of a Benedictine monastery at Callobre. The latter place is in the district of Pruzos, which was one of the archipresbyterates in the archdeaconry of Nendos by 1177.(35) Pedro Crescónez was a slightly later archdeacon of Nendos; he can be traced as such between 1118 and 1138. Since Diego entrusted the castle at Faro to his care, it is fair to assume that it lay within his archdeaconry. Faro was an archipresbyterate in the archdeaconry of Nendos by 1177. At one point Pedro was seized and imprisoned by count Fernando Pérez de Traba: his jurisdiction extended over the count's estates; indeed it did -- the archdeaconry, as defined in 1177, embraced those areas where the Traba charters reveal concentrations of the family landholdings.(36)
We do not need, therefore, to resort to controversial documents such as the Ordinatio Tructini, the Exquisitio  magna and the Chronicon Iriense. Reliable evidence surviving from the lifetime of Diego Gelmírez suggests that the diocese of Compostela was divided for the purpose of ecclesiastical administration into units which were themselves already old. (Precisely how old must remain a matter for investigation.) It is not unlikely that Pedro Suárez's reorganization of 1177 was simply a clarification of existing practice and custom.
There were five archdeacons in the diocese during the first decade of the twelfth century: Juan Rodríguez, Arias Cipriánez, Odoario, Geoffrey and Hugo. The exercise of archidiaconal authority by the head of the chapter may already have existed, though it is not attested until the year 1113.(37) The number may have fallen slightly in Diego's later years: only four, including the dean, are traceable simultaneously in the 1120s and 1130s. We know little about them, practically nothing about their activities as archdeacons. Hugo, author of a small part of the Historia Compostellana and later bishop of Porto, is the best known to us, but we know nothing of him as archdeacon. One thing, however, is clear. These were capable men on whom Diego could rely. With the exception of Arias Cipriánez all visited the papal curia at least once to transact business on their master's behalf. Juan Rodríguez served in the chancery of queen Urraca. Hugo was employed to inspect Compostelan properties in southern France in 1105.(38) Juan Rodríguez, the only one of them of whose archidiaconate we know anything, seems to have been an active man in his archdeaconry. Pedro Crescónez, his successor in Nendos, looks like another man of administrative talent: he was chosen by Diego to accompany him to the papal curia in 1119, he probably represented him at the council of Valladolid in 1123 and he was put in charge of the building of the cloister in 1134.(39) His contemporary Arias Núñez, traceable as archdeacon between 1126 and 1138, is the only other  man of whose conduct in this office we can form some faint impression. He was so uncompromising an upholder of Christian rectitude that the people of his archdeaconry beat him up and imprisoned him.(40)
If we know little of archdeacons we know even less of archpriests. We have the occasional name. We can infer that they were men of lowly social status, subordinate to and probably chosen by the local archdeacon. We know that they were required to hold courts at the beginning of each month 'as in the past' (antecessorum more).(41) They presided over them in the company of law-worthy men (discreti viri) who might be either priests or gentry or farmers (milites, rustici). The business that came before these courts is only very vaguely described, but it cannot have been exclusively ecclesiastical in character.
The parish clergy are as silent, in our sources, as the archpriests. It is in the nature of the evidence, in Spain as elsewhere, that we should hear most about their shortcomings. Spanish church councils, here again reflecting the drift of reforming legislation in the western church at large, repeatedly passed decrees against clerical concubinage.(42) That abuses of this sort existed, and continued to exist for many years to come, is clear; how widespread they were we cannot tell. But if there were clergy whose conduct provoked disquiet, there were also -- and unsurprisingly -- some satisfactory figures among them. Theotonio was considered an exemplary parish priest during his years at Viseu (1119-28) and there is no reason to suppose that he was unique in the Galaico-Portuguese church.(43) We even catch a glimpse of a wealthy clergyman of scholarly tastes. Romanus, parish priest of Bandoja in Nendos, lived there with his sister; they rebuilt the church and 'did much good work in copying books from one year's end to another'.(44)
 The other sort of clergy whose lot it was to be supervised by Diego were those who lived a monastic or quasi-monastic life. As he was made to observe in the arenga of one his acts, 'it is the special duty of bishops to make provision for the security and seemliness of monasteries'.(45) There were certain religious communities with which Diego and his clergy enjoyed close relations. The foremost among these were the two black-monk establishments in the town of Compostela, San Martín Pinario and San Payo de Antealtares. With the monks of San Martín Pinario, beneficiaries of the act whose arenga has just been quoted, Diego's relations were always cordial. Matters went rather less smoothly with Antealtares. The root of the trouble was that the monastery, as its name implies, lay immediately to the east of the cathedral. Friction was bound to occur in the course of the rebuilding of St. James's church on a larger scale. Tact could normally overcome any resentments: Diego called Antealtares the 'special daughter' of his church; abbot Pedro assisted him in the disturbances of 1116-17; and Diego rebuilt the monastery church.(46) Yet the relationship can never have been an easy one, and it was made more awkward by the shortcomings of abbot Pedro revealed, it is most charitable to suppose, in his declining years. Diego had to conduct a visitation of the monastery and depose him in 1129 or 1130.(47) The other religious communities most closely associated with the church of Santiago were of course Iria, the former seat of the bishopric, and Padrón, alleged site of the landfall of the corpse of the apostle on the Galician coast. At Iria some sort of religious community seems to have continued to exist after the ecclesiastical focus of the diocese shifted to Santiago de Compostela. It was under the patronage of the bishops and apparently well-endowed. In the middle years of the eleventh century bishop Cresconio restored it and added to its endowments,  buildings and library. Diego Gelmírez carried out another restoration. He established twelve canons there under a prior, but we do not know what rule they observed. He also built himself a palace at Iria.(48) At Padrón likewise he established twelve canons, and built himself another palace; a charter of 1116 refers to the building works there.(49) Finally, among religious closely associated with Santiago, were the hermits dwelling on Picosacro, a mountain about five miles to the south-east of Compostela.
In the absence of 'house histories' of the sort that are reasonably common in other parts of western Europe we know very little about the monasticism of the diocese of Compostela (or of Galicia in general) during Diego's lifetime.(50) By way of example, we hear of a monastenium at Moraime in a charter of 1119. It was headed by an abbot named Ordoño, and it contained monks observing a rule (monachis ibidem vitam sanctam ducentibus). It was then undergoing restoration after damage inflicted by Saracen raids. One Hodorius abbas Moriamsisis subscribed a charter of 1105: this may have been abbot Ordoño of Moraime. In 1134 an abbot Martín subscribed a charter of Fernando Pérez de Traba. This is all we know of Moraime.(51) Or again there is the case of Nemeño. This house was founded and handsomely endowed by Pedro Froílaz de Traba in 1105, with the approbation of Diego Gelmírez. Although its precise status is not clear, it seems likely that it was intended for canons: its inmates were servis Dei -- not monachis -- regulariter viventibus. The house is mentioned in a Traba family document of 1132; its prior Gonzalo is recorded in  1134. And that is all we know of Nemeño.(52) It follows that there may have been religious houses in the diocese whose names do not feature at all in the records which have come down to us. There were plenty of establishments whose exact character is by no means clear to us, and may not have been to contemporaries. Piadela, already mentioned, is one such house. Another is Caldas de Cuntis.(53) It had an abbas, Pedro, who was also a canon of Compostela. The church of St. Julian there was in the possession of queen Urraca, and when she gave it to the church of Santiago in 1116 she threw in with it 'the abbot's house' (cum casa de abbate). Was there some sort of religious community there in the early twelfth century? We cannot tell. Had there existed some such community in the past? Quite possibly. Caldas de Cuntis, as Contenos, had been one of the principal churches of the diocese of Iria in the late sixth century according to the Suevic Parochiale. One of the great difficulties is in knowing what was meant by the word monasterium. At one extreme it can indicate a religious community of monks, canons or nuns living according to a rule, as at Moraime. At the other, it can designate simply a proprietary church -- usually, it would seem, one of a certain dignity, antiquity and wealth -- as at Franza in Bezoucos.
Despite these difficulties and uncertainties a few general observations may be made. In the first place, though the diocese of Santiago de Compostela was touched by the influence of Galicia's tenth-century monastic revival, it did not contain any of the foremost houses which were founded then. The most imposing was Sobrado: but by the time of Diego's episcopate this was in a state of such decline that monastic life there had quite probably ceased. The other foundations of the tenth century within the diocese -- Caabeiro, Camanzo, Carboeiro, Lérez, Mezonzo and Poyo -- had never been particularly distinguished even in their great days; which were well past by the year 1100. The diocese contained no Celanova, no Lorenzana, no Samos -- probably to the profound relief of the diocesan. Second, very few Galician monasteries were royal foundations. Toques was  founded by king García at the beginning of Diego's lifetime, and Tojos Outos by Alfonso VII towards its end: there were no other royal foundations in between. Neither of these houses achieved any prominence. Third, and as a corollary, it was the aristocracy who patronized new initiatives in the monastic life during Diego's lifetime. It was the Traba family who granted their house at Jubia to Cluny in 1113, who were active as patrons of the religious life for women, who brought the Cistercians to revive Sobrado in 1142.
Diego Gelmírez's attitude to monasticism is hard to gauge -- if indeed he had anything so coherent. As far as we know, no member of his family had connections with any religious house. The monastic life was part of the religious scene to which he was accustomed. If he was on friendly terms with individual Galician abbots that was because they formed part of a Galician social community to which he belonged. If he had some dealings with those very great figures in the monastic world, the abbots of Cluny -- Hugh, Pontius and Peter -- that was because they might be useful to him. Unlike many of the bishops who were his contemporaries elsewhere in Christendom he showed no interest in the new directions which were being struck out in the monastic life. The canons regular were starting to attract interest in the western parts of the Iberian peninsula from the 1120s onwards, the impulse coming, it seems, from Tello's visit to the famous house of St. Ruf at Avignon in the company of Maurice Bourdin in about 1107. This connection bore fruit in the foundation of the Augustinian house of Sta. Cruz at Coimbra in 1130.(54) It may have been from there that the impulse spread north into Galicia. The first Augustinian foundation in Galicia was indeed made just outside the walls of Compostela at Sta. María la Real del Sar in 1136: the initiative, however, came not from Diego but from the retiring bishop of Mondoñedo, Nuño Alfonso. At Tuy the cathedral chapter adopted the Augustinian rule in 1138, but Diego had no part in that decision. As in other parts of Europe some older, decayed or anomalous communities were 'tidied up' by being reformed on Augustinian  lines. This happened, for example, at Caabeiro, probably during Diego's episcopate (though the date is hard to establish); but there is no sign that he took any of the new initiatives there. The case of Coba may be more revealing.(55) A church there allegedly founded by bishop Sisnando I, and possibly therefore once the site of some kind of religious community, was acquired by Diego early in his episcopate and granted as a fief (in prestimonio) -- contrary to canon law -- to one of the judges of Compostela. It was at this man's prompting that not Diego but his successor archbishop Pedro Helias established a house of Augustinian canons there in 1143.
It was much the same with the Cistercians. A well-known letter from St. Bernard to abbot Artald of Pruilly written c. 1127 has been construed as indicative of his reluctance to countenance Cistercian foundations in Spain.(56) It may not necessarily have meant this -- it could simply have been advice to Artald himself -- but, whether it does or not, the tardiness of the Cistercians in settling in the Iberian peninsula is striking. Their earliest foundation was at Fitero in Navarre in 1140. The first certain foundation in the north-west was Sobrado in 1142, followed by Tarouca in northern Portugal in 1143. (One has to say 'certain' since there are other claimants, though their documents will not stand up to critical scrutiny.(57)) The great period for Galaico-Portuguese Cistercian foundations was the early part of the 1150s, with the establishment of Alcobaça, Armenteira, Meira, Melón, Montederramo and Oya -- none of them, incidentally, in the diocese of Compostela.(58)
It may be significant that all Diego's recorded benefactions to monasteries went to the older black-monk houses.(59) There may, however, have been one direction in which he made an advance. The Historia Compostellana informs us  that Diego was distressed by the lack of nunneries in Galicia. He founded a house for women at Conjo, a little to the south of Compostela, where he rebuilt the church and endowed the community with orchards and fish-ponds. Although the work seems to have been undertaken early in his episcopate it was not until 1129 that the first nuns took up residence.(60) There may have been a little more to this venture than meets the eye. The Historia tells us that there was no religious house for women in Galicia; it does not say that there were no houses for women and other religious. In a letter to Diego pope Paschal II expressed a sense of shock that double houses for men and women existed and ordered that the sexes should be separated.(61) It was possibly in response to the pope's bidding that Diego took his rather leisurely steps to establish the nunnery at Conjo. The existence of double houses in Galicia may provide the answer to the question posed in chapter II as to where Pedro Froílaz's sisters Viscalavara and Munia exercised their vocation.(62) Perhaps it lay behind the disputes over the status of the community at Cines.(63)
Diego's administrative staff and circle of advisers did not include monks. Indeed, it is hard to see how it could have done. The archdeacons, of course, were seculars. His few surviving charters whose scribes identify themselves were drafted by members of the cathedral chapter: even if two of them do describe themselves as abbas they also describe themselves as canons of Santiago and Diego's notaries.(64) To write in these terms -- a staff, charters, notaries -- is to imply administrative and in particular secretarial routine. But this is anachronistic.(65) It is indeed likely that Diego transacted more business by letter then we shall ever know.  It is significant that we hear of his correspondence with archbishop Anselm only from the latter's reply. The authors of the Historia Compostellana preserved only such documents as were of more than fugitive interest. But the day-to-day administration of the diocese did not call for much in the way of writing. Apart from surviving correspondence with, for example, the queen or the archbishop of Toledo or the papal chancellor, all Diego's acta that have come down to us are beneficial charters cast in the form of the solemn diploma: an ancient form, heavy with ponderous circumlocutions, intended to impress, even to awe. Furthermore, these were personal documents in a way in which the routine products of an office are not. They bore the autograph subscriptions of witnesses, some, the more elderly and conservative, still using the ancient 'Visigothic' script, others the new-fangled 'French' script. Diego wrote a big, leisurely, distinctive Visigothic hand, and his subscription was usually accompanied by a device of two concentric circles containing lettering known as the rota, which he had borrowed from the practice of the papal chancery.
Diego's administration of his diocese was personal, too, in that it rested in the last resort upon what he himself did. With his household of clergy, soldiers and servants,(66) he was as peripatetic as the royal court, and for the same reasons -- to collect and consume renders in kind, to show himself, to perform important rituals, to act as an arbiter in disputes when called upon, to keep an eye on his subordinates: in short, to make himself available. How big his entourage was at any moment we have no means of telling. If bishop Jorge of Tuy -- a small and not a very wealthy see -- was accustomed to have an entourage of twenty people in the early 1070s it is reasonable to suppose that Diego's was bigger. Half as big again, perhaps? Doubtless its size fluctuated. However, a mental picture of something between twenty-five and thirty-five people in his company is probably accurate enough. These persons, their mounts and their draught animals needed food. As we have already seen, some at least of the estates that made up the temporalities of Santiago owed renders in kind. Much of this produce  must have been intended for consumption on the spot: the eggs rendered annually, among much else, by the inhabitants of Cacabelos cannot have been transported to Compostela. It was not only the temporalities which paid such rents. Every church in the diocese, except those to which a special exemption had been granted, owed an annual tribute to the diocesan. The evidence of the Braga Censual gives us some idea of what this might bring in every year. The five hundred and seventy-three churches between the Lima and the Ave rendered annually about 300,000 dry litres of corn and 20,700 litres of wine, together with a certain quantity of fish, ducks, partridges, wax, iron, cloth and salt.(67) We have no such detailed lists from the diocese of Compostela, simply the occasional reference to payments customarily made. These fall into two categories: the tercias, or third part of the tithe;(68) and annual renders simply referred to as 'tax and due' (census et debitus).(69) No doubt the renders were made in several different forms; the only sure information we possess is that they were sometimes in wax.(70) It is surely safe to assume quantities comparable to those listed in the Braga Censual. Some of this produce was brought to Compostela,(71) but much of it must have been consumed on the spot. Diego and his household had to go to their food; it did not always come to them.
What the authors of the Historia Compostellana primly called 'holy visitation'(72) may not often have gone much further than this -- the arrival in your village of a band of hungry men, some of them armed. But if a bishop in quest of his tributa ecclesiarum could be indistinguishable from a secular lord, he also had special duties which a secular lord did not. Only a bishop could consecrate churches, ordain clergy, confirm the laity; and it may still at this  date have been thought desirable that the sacrament of baptism be administered by the bishop himself. Of Diego's discharge of these pastoral duties, with the exception of the building and consecration of churches, we know nothing. Our sources were not concerned with them. We sometimes glimpse him consecrating churches built by others. We frequently see him consecrating churches built directly or indirectly through his agency: for example, the church at Cacabelos, or the four churches in Postmarcos which he found either in ruins or converted into peasant dwellings (tuguria) and rebuilt, or the six churches in Nendos restored by his archdeacon Juan Rodríguez.(73) Diego was an indefatigable builder of churches in his diocese. He built or rebuilt three parish churches in the town of Compostela, a cemetery chapel for the hospital there, two successive chapels at his castle at Oeste, and at least seven rural parish churches in addition to those already mentioned.(74) These building operations are alluded to casually, so we are justified in regarding this total as a minimum. The consecration of a church was an important social occasion. Here, arrayed in full pontificals, the bishop could display the gorgeous image of episcopal might to the assembled clergy and people; perhaps even condescend to be affable. Here he could preach, perhaps conduct those other pastoral rituals of which we know nothing. In the absence of any formal and regular scheme of visitation,(75) such contacts between the diocesan and his flock assumed a special importance.
The meeting of assemblies presided over by the bishop, and the exercise of jurisdiction by him, provided further occasions for contact between the diocesan and his clergy and thus for the carrying out of pastoral duties. Some of these gatherings were not, formally speaking, councils or synods at all. The assembly of clergy for the consecration of a church or of a bishop would have been a gathering of this informal type: for example at the consecration of Hugo as bishop of Porto at Lérez in 1113, or at that of Iñigo as bishop of Avila in 1133; and the particularly imposing  witness-list to Diego's charter in favour of San Martín Pinario when he consecrated the new abbey church in 1115 suggests a gathering of this sort.(76) Fourteen years after Diego's death, in 1154, archbishop Pelayo issued a statute requiring the heads of all the religious houses that were subject to him in the diocese to come to attend mass in the cathedral of Santiago on the two principal feast-days of St. James (25 July and 30 December).(77) If, as is likely, this was by way of being a reminder rather than an entirely new stipulation, it provides us with a further occasion, the celebration of patronal festivals, for ecclesiastical gatherings at Compostela. It is at least suggestive that one of Diego's charters in favour of a monastic house in his diocese -- Camanzo -- was dated 23 July, close to St. James's day.(78) The consecration of Iñigo of Avila, referred to above, occurred on 25 July.
Conciliar gatherings properly so called were held frequently on Diego Gelmírez's initiative. But we have to be careful to distinguish between them. As a papal legate he held annual councils between 1121 and 1124, attended -- in theory -- by the higher clergy of the provinces subject to his legatine authority. The councils over which he presided in 1114 and 1130 were called to promulgate in Galicia the decrees recently passed at councils held on the meseta, at León and Carrión respectively. At the council of 1114 Diego made arrangements for annual Lenten meetings of bishops at Compostela. This was in pursuit of his ecclesiastical ambitions at the expense of the archbishopric of Braga. We do not know how frequently these meetings were held.
These councils were -- and were intended to be -- imposing affairs. They were attended not only by members of the higher clergy and their entourages -- eight bishops and twenty-seven abbots, together with religiosis personis and bonis clenicis in 1124 -- but also by members of the secular nobility of Galicia. We are asked to believe that so many people attended the legatine council of 1122 that the  cathedral of Santiago could scarcely hold them all.(79) In addition to these councils we can just glimpse another sort of assembly referred to in our sources as a synod, which seems to have been a more humdrum affair. The bishop's synod was attended by the clergy of the diocese, though presumably not by all of them. Since one of its functions was to receive the church tributes it must have met regularly, and at least once every year.(80) This is all we know of it, though it must have had other functions too. Ecclesiastical legislation affecting church life at parish level would presumably have been disseminated by way of the bishop's synod. For instance, the higher clergy showed repeated concern for the protection inviolate of the area immediately round a church within a radius of eighty-four paces: laymen were to exercise no authority there and knights were not to use churches as a rendezvous (militum conventus). This sort of requirement must have been publicized to the parish clergy (or their archdeacons and archpriests) in the first instance through the synod.(81) (Archdeacons may have held archidiaconal synods already by this date, though we know nothing of them. We have already seen that archpriests were meant to hold some sort of court every month.)
We may also presume that the synod would have been the occasion for the exercise of episcopal jurisdiction, though here too we have perforce to resort to conjecture. We know that Diego held a court every Friday in his palace at Compostela. But its business sounds rather seigneurial than ecclesiastical: it dealt with what are vaguely described as 'plaints and compensations' (querelae, injuriae).(82) We possess only two glimpses of Diego at work as a judge. On one occasion when the court was meeting not in the palace but in the half-built cathedral (in fabrica ecclesiae) the platform on which it met collapsed, leaving Diego with one companion stranded on a beam: coolly he waited above the groaning mass of injured humanity until he was rescued with a ladder. He had been hearing the case of a knight accused of theft, in other words a seigneurial rather than an ecclesiastical suit (unless the theft were of church property).  On another occasion he was presiding over his court at Iria, a little surprisingly on Easter Day. The Historia tells us that it had met to hear causas publicas, than which nothing could sound more secular; yet the only suit we hear of was a matrimonial one, concerning a knight who had been excommunicated by Diego for marrying within the prohibited degrees (propter incestam consanguinitatis).(83) The point was made at the beginning of this chapter that it is impossible to distinguish Diego's ecclesiastical role from his secular one. This was a common feature of church life throughout western Christendom in the early twelfth century. The struggle to delimit a strictly ecclesiastical jurisdiction was to be a long and sometimes a bitter one.
'The shield of the fatherland' had extensive secular responsibilities. Foremost among them was defence. The honor of Santiago contained several castles. There was the castle of San Jorge near Cape Finisterre, and Faro at what is now Corunna. Further south there was Cira, at the confluence of the rivers Deza and Ulla -- the only one among Diego's fortresses that was not on the coast -- and Lanzada near the island (now peninsula) of El Grove. The nearest to Compostela and the most important was at Oeste, on the south side of the estuary of the Ulla where it debouches into the Ría de Arosa.(84) Oeste was in existence before 1024, was rebuilt by bishop Cresconio in the middle of the eleventh century, and then enlarged by bishop Diego Peláez. Diego Gelmírez devoted much attention to it. Early in his episcopate he carried out another rebuilding. (It is of great interest that in addition to exacting forced labour he was able to impose a tax of one solidus on every household in the diocese to finance it.) To the walls, towers and barbicans (? propugnaculis) then constructed he added at some point a pons -- perhaps the causeway which crosses the boggy ground  on the landward side? -- and a chapel. Round about 1120 he built a keep inside the fortified area. At some point he pulled down and rebuilt the chapel on a larger scale. Torres del Oeste, as it is now known, served many purposes. It was an episcopal residence, an administrative centre, a toll-station and a prison. But it was first and foremost a formidable stronghold. It needed to be.
Saracen and 'Norman' raids on the coast of Galicia have been mentioned in chapter I. There are several references to them in our sources. In 1101 a Frisian skipper was taking a party of pilgrims to the Holy Land by sea. His ship was intercepted by a Saracen pirate referred to as Avitus Maimon. In the fight that ensued the Frisian was saved after invoking St. James, who conjured up a tempest which scattered the aggressors.(85) At least twenty Saracen ships were lurking in Galician coastal waters in 1118. English, Norman, 'and other barbarian peoples' were a constant fear. No doubt the arrival of king Sigurd the Jerusalem-Farer with a fleet of sixty ships to spend the winter near Compostela was greeted with mixed feelings.(86)Diego realized that the raiders had to be tackled on their own element.(87) Although native shipping was sometimes used in naval operations, the only ships which the Galicians knew how to construct were cargo ships (naves sarcinarias). In about 1115 Diego engaged Genoese shipwrights to build him two galleys (factis duabus biremibus quas vulgus 'galleas' vocat). These were big ships, holding a hundred men apiece, and they successfully carried out a daring -and brutal - raid against the pirates' bases. A further naval engagement took place in 1120. Neglected by the men of Padrón, to whose care they had been entrusted, the galleys decayed. A replacement was built in 1124 and put under the command of a Pisan captain named Fuxo who conducted further successful operations.
Diego's military activities were not confined to repelling attacks from the sea. As a young man he had had experience of warfare in count Raymond's Portuguese campaigns,  and this stood him in good stead later on. As a bishop he was bound to provide troops for the royal army, and to serve with them in person until he secured exemption from this obligation in 1113. The disturbances of Urraca's reign involved him in operations against peace-breakers in Galicia. We find him directing sieges. He besieged Rabinato Núñez in Puente Sampayo in 1112, for example, and his old enemy Arias Pérez at Tabeirós in 1126.(88) Many of Diego's episcopal contemporaries -- though by no means all -- would have criticized such conduct as unbecoming in a bishop. The question was one which was keenly debated during his lifetime.(89) To such critics Diego would doubtless have replied that the end justified the means. In violent times violent men must be confounded by violent means. Only thus could the defenceless be protected against oppression.
Diego's concern for those whom the Historia Compostellana often refers to as pauperes -- a term which probably indicated anyone not of noble rank -- was a continual one, and we need not doubt that it was genuine. (The fact that such concern was often in his own material interests does not make it any the less genuine.) There is no reason to disbelieve his panegyrists when they tell us that Diego was stirred by the plight of Christians in Moorish captivity; or moved by pity to release some captive English pirates; or angered so fiercely by the depredations of a certain Munio Pérez that he razed the latter's castle so completely that not one stone was left upon another.(90) There is plentiful evidence of his concern. He ruled that the goods of those captured by the Moors were to be inviolate for a year so that ransoms might be paid. Merchants and pilgrims were not to be molested. When a powerful man went to law with a poor man, let him be represented by someone of the same rank as his adversary, lest justice by supplanted by might. Poor men were not to be distrained upon so ruthlessly that all their possessions be taken from them. Let only such weights and measures be  used as accord with the standards in the market-place at Compostela.(91)
We may suspect that it was the actions of Diego's subordinates as well as those of predatory knights and noblemen which provoked such concern. The town of Compostela was administered on the bishop's behalf by a number of judges (iudices), perhaps as many as four at any one time, some of whom at least were members of the chapter. Pedro Daniélez, for example, a member of the chapter by 1102, can be traced as a iudex for the better part of fifty years, between 1090 and 1138. The honor of Santiago outside the town was in the hands of bailiffs (villici) assisted by men who held the office of saio, in the vernacular sayón. The sayones had a bad reputation.(92) As the executive officers of the villici their main task seems to have been distraint. They were men of fairly humble social status: they could be flogged for misdemeanours. Clearly they were in a position to abuse their powers and often did so. They were bracketed with rustlers as men from whom livestock should not be bought, and with those of ill-repute (mali) whose testimony should not be accepted in lawsuits.
The society over which Diego presided in his diocese was in many ways a harsh and brutal one. (Galician society was to remain so for many centuries to come.) Did he leave it any better than he found it? Can we, in fine, make any assessment of Diego as a pastor? Not with any confidence, certainly: the evidence simply does not permit it. But we can, indeed must, say something, if only to summarize the drift of a rather discursive chapter.
Diego eagerly accepted the reforming legislation of his age and promulgated it in his diocese. He commissioned an up-to-date code of canon law. He maintained and increased communication with the popes. All the major themes of the reformers as enunciated in the church councils of his time were sounded by him in the diocese of Compostela: the  condemnation of lay investiture and simony, the insistence on clerical celibacy, the protection of churches and their endowments from lay depredation, the proclamation of a specially privileged status for the clergy. How successful he was in improving the character of his clergy we have not the remotest idea. He did not -- neither did any of his contemporary bishops --command the machinery for disciplining the lower clergy which prelates were to have at their disposal in the following century.
What of the laity? With regard to them we are even more in the dark. We saw that Arias Núñez had a hard time of it trying to get across some rudiments of Christian discipline to the inhabitants of the archdeaconry of Trastámara. Gerald of Beauvais regarded them as a rude and unschooled bunch of people (idiotae et fere indisciplinati), and we may well suppose that up there in the wilder corners of the extreme north-west (still today an almost unbelievably remote and backward area) indeed they were. 'The Church's expectations from the laity were realistically minimal.' The words are those of a recent scholar writing on popular religion in Spain in the Visigothic period.(93) The judgement may be applied to the twelfth century as appropriately as to the seventh. Much rustic belief and ritual that is often unhelpfully dismissed as 'superstition' was undoubtedly present. For example, the seeking of auguries in the flight of birds is said to have aroused Diego's displeasure.(94) It had aroused Martin of Braga's over five centuries earlier. It is still there, providing reassurance for the participant and employment for the anthropologist, nine centuries later. (The holy wells which also had distressed Martin of Braga seem still to have been revered in Diego's day. I do not know how else to interpret 'the spring for blessing' (per fontem benedicenti) which we encounter among the bounds in the Nemeño foundation-charter of 1105.) Diego could rail as he might, but there was no eradicating these ancient, pre-Christian observances. Churchmen could and did present to the laity the barest requirements of a distinctively Christian discipline.  Lent, feast-days and Sundays must be marked by certain abstentions. On Sundays the country people must not come in to Compostela to trade. Divine punishment awaits those who work on feast-days. Even sayones must suspend their nefarious activities between Saturday afternoon and Monday morning.(95) The surviving sources tell only of prohibitions, but positive commands -- for example, to attend church -- must have existed alongside them. The laity were enjoined to respect the persons and property of the clergy, and especially to respect churches.(96) They were told that they must pay their tithes. We find Diego advising count Pedro Froílaz 'that he should more fully pay tithes of all that he possessed to the churches and their clergy': Diego's biographers referred to this as 'the nutriment of spiritual teaching' (spiritualis doctrinae pabulum).(97) Some rudimentary rules regarding marriage were laid down. 'A lawful marriage must not be dissolved, but those who are connected by blood or other relationship must be put asunder', ruled the council of Compostela of 1114.(98) The sanction of excommunication and the discipline of penance were at the disposal of churchmen for bringing offenders to heel.(99)
In what light the episcopal biographers
of this age chose to present their subjects to their readers is a topic
to which as yet curiously little attention has been devoted. The authors
of the Historia Compostellana did not present Diego as a busy administrator,
nor as a spiritual guide, nor as a pastoral teacher, nor as an intellectual
force, nor (least of all!) as a troubled soul. He may have been some or
all of these things. But his chroniclers chose to lay the emphasis elsewhere.
For them he was before all else the guardian of the shrine of St. James.
For them, images of majesty and power were more fitting than those of humility
and godliness. Vigilant and if necessary forceful defence of St. James's
rights was a high and exacting task. The apostle's glory must shine forth,
his enemies cringe and his suppliants bow  before him. With
satisfaction Diego could contemplate the milling hordes of pilgrims, the
shuffling, stinking crowds of maimed and sick who thronged Santiago's basilica.
With satisfaction he could think on enemies worsted -- 'that fool', the
archbishop of Braga, and 'that Jezebel', queen Urraca. But he could never
relax his vigilance; not even in his dealings with Alfonso VII, Urraca's
son, whose early boyhood had been passed under his care.
1. HC, pp. 165-6.
2. HC, p. 344 (=JL 6929).
3. HC, pp. 133, 204.
4. AHRG, Documentos Particulares, Monasterio de San Payo de Antealtares, no. 27: from the arenga of one of Diego's charters dated 11 October 1113.
5. HC, p. 253. Little attention has been paid by modern historians of the medieval Spanish church to the matters touched on in this chapter; in an earlier book I treated some of them very briefly: see Episcopate, ch. 4.
6. Edited and discussed by P. David, 'L'organisation ecclésiastique du royaume suève au temps de saint Martin de Braga', in his Études historiques sur la Galice et le Portugal du VIe au XIIe siècle (Lisbon-Paris, 1947), pp. 1-82.
7. An elaborate edition of and commentary on this important text forms the core of the work of David's pupil, A. de J. da Costa, O bispo D. Pedro e a organizaçao da diocese de Braga (Coimbra, 1959).
8. HC, pp. 80-4.
9. HC, p. 40: quam beatus Fructuosus fabricaverat.
10. See above, ch. III.
11. LFH II, ap. ii, p. 8; Sobrado Cart. I, no. 48 (also pd. LFH II, ap. lxxx, pp. 194-5). Many other examples could be cited.
12. See the very revealing c. 6 of the second council of Braga held in 572: early conciliar material is most easily accessible in J. Vives, Concilios visigóticos e hispano-romanos (Barcelona-Madrid, 1963).
13. Jubia Cart. nos. xxiii, xxx, xxxvi, xxxvii, xlv, xlvii.
14. AHN 491/15.
15. See above, ch. VII; Galicia Histórica. Colección Diplomática (Santiago de Compostela, 1901), no. xxix (and cf. Episcopate, pp. 164-5).
16. HC, p. 192 (c. 7).
17. F. Fita, 'Concilio nacional de Burgos (18 febrero 1117)', BRAH 48 (1906), 387-407: see cc. 11, 16.
18. HC, pp. 69-70.
19. R. 3 January 1115, 26 November 1115, 18 May 1116, and cf. HC, p. 189.
20. HC, p.414, and cf. the case of Sancho Sánchez in Episcopate, pp. 160-1.
21. HC, p. 59.
22. For what follows see R. 30 December 1020; HC, p. 73; LFH III, ap. xvi, pp. 52-3.
23. HC, pp. 72, 185, 464, 468-70. For Bermudo Suárez see also HC, pp. 313, 329, 335; R. 3 January 1115, l3 June 1120, 31 May 1124.
24. HC, pp. 178-9.
25. LFH II, ap. ii, pp. 6-8.
26. R. 30 March 1019.
27. See the edition by M. R. García Alvarez in Memorial Histórico Español 50 (1963), 1-240.
28. HC, pp. 85-6 (=JL 6264): cf. also HC, pp. 59, 72, 125, 186, 504, 558; AHRG, Documentos Particulares, Monasterio de San Payo de Antealtares, no. 27.
29. LFH IV, ap. 1, pp. 122-4.
30. L. Barrau-Dihigo, 'Étude sur les actes des rois asturiens (718-910)', Revue Hispanique 46(1919), 1-192.
31. LFH IV, ap. i, pp. 122-4.
32. For example, Salnés: HC, p. 441 (terra); R. 1 April 1101, AHN 5 12/5, HC, p. 70 (territorium); HC, pp. 59, 347, 476 (pagus).
33. e.g. R. 18 May 1123, a certain church habet iacentiam in terra de Barcala: by 1177, Barcala was an archipresbyterate in the archdeaconry of Trastámara.
34. HC, pp. 74-84, 374-8. For an elaborate discussion see Vones, Kirchenpolitik, pp. 149-218.
35. HC, p. 73; R. 30 May 1087, 24 December 1110; LFH III, ap. vi, pp. 34-6.
36. Sobrado Cart. I, no. 135; R. 12 December 1138; HC, pp. 357, 547.
37. Pedro Díaz subscribed a document of 1113 as decanus et archidiaconus.
38. I owe the last point to Vones, Kirchenpolitik, p. 51. The same author has elsewhere (p. 50) convincingly taken me to task for my earlier suggestion (Episcopate, p. 90) that Hugo was a native of Compostela.
39. HC, pp. 268, 545; R. 29 November 1123; Vones, Kirchenpolitik, pp.
40. HC, p. 501, which leaves it unclear as to how he had given offence. His archdeaconry was in the extreme north-west of the diocese, the one known after 1177 as Trastámara.
41. HC, p. 179.
42. For instance, the councils of Compostela in 1114, of Burgos in 1117 and of Palencia in 1129.
43. E. A. O'Malley, Tello and Theotonio, the twelfth-century founders of the monastery of Santa Cruz de Coimbra (Washington, 1954), ch. 1.
44. Sobrado Cart. I, no. 135 (of 1118). If 'books' is most likely to mean 'liturgical books', this may suggest an answer to the question posed at the end of Appendix D below.
45. Episcopate, appendix, no. V, p. 286.
46. AHRG, Documentos Particulares, Monasterio de San Payo de Antealtares, no. 27; HC, pp. 285-6, 372.
47. HC, pp. 507-8. Even if this account is exaggerated it is clear that serious scandals existed. The succession of the abbots of Antealtares has not been satisfactorily established, but it is likely that Pedro had been abbot for about thirty years at the time of his deposition.
48. For Iria, see HC, pp. 59, 362-4, 373, 546; AC Santiago de Compostela, Tumbo de Sta. María de Iria, fo. 2r-3r (pd. Monumentos antiguos de la iglesia compostelana, ed. F. Fita and A. López Ferreiro (Madrid, 1882), p. 9). The latter document has several suspicious features but the central core of what it records of the community's history seems plausible.
49. HC, pp. 59, 373, 546-7; AHN 512/6.
50. A further reason for ignorance is that such scanty materials as do exist have received very little modern scholarly attention. Patient work on the charters yields fruitful results, as under the hands of J. Mattoso, Le Monachisme ibérique et Cluny. Les Monastères du diocèse de Porto de l'an mille à 1200 (Louvain, 1968).
51. R. 26 September 1119 (not above suspicion); HC, p. 559; LFH III, ap. xviii, p. 60.
52. Madrid, IVDJ, C. 9/25; HC, p. 560; LFH III, ap. xviii, pp. 56-60.
53. HC, pp. 57, 108-9; R. 18 May 1116; LFH III, ap. xvi, pp. 52-3.
54. O'Malley, op. cit., ch. 2 and 3.
55. HC, p. 71; LFH IV, ap. xii, pp. 32-6.
56. Ep., no. 75, in Patrologia Latina CLXXXII, col. 189.
57. e.g. Osera, in the diocese of Orense, whose very dubious foundation charter is subscribed by Diego Gelmírez: R. 2 September 1135.
58. Two Benedictine houses in the diocese of Compostela, Monfero and Tojos Outos, later adopted the Cistercian rule.
59. Apart from San Martín Pinario and San Payo de Antealtares, there survives the notitia of a lost grant to Carboeiro in Carboeiro Cart., no. 90.
60. HC, pp. 57-8, 493.
61. HC, pp. 33-4 (=JL 5881).
62. It should be noted that two of Pedro Froílaz's children founded nunneries, Bermudo Pérez at Genroso in 1138 and Lupa Pérez at Dormeán in 1152: AHN 526/7; R. 12 December 1138; AHRG, Particulares, nos. 58, 497. Note the characteristic stipulation that the prioress of Genroso should if possible be founder's kin.
63. HC, pp. 91-3 (=JL 5944, 6001, 6027); for further references and a very brief discussion see Episcopate, p. 192.
64. LFH III, ap. xvi, p. 53; IV ap. viii, p. 25.
65. For some general discussion of bishops' secretarial arrangements see Episcopate, ch. 3.
66. e.g. HC, p. 329.
67. A. de J. da Costa, O bispo D. Pedro e a organização da diocese de Braga, I. 209-12.
68. e.g. HC, p. 377: tributa ecclesiarum quae tertias dicimus.
69. e.g. HC, p. 81; LFH III, ap. xxxiii at p. 100.
70. HC, p. 377: praeter candelam . . . quam annuatim ecclesiae B. lacobi exolvat. Since writing this I have rediscovered a reference which I had overlooked to a church which rendered fish and wheat: AHN cód. 986B, fo. 117 (quoted but I think misinterpreted in LFH II, p. 102, n. 2).
71. HC, p. 181.
72. HC, p. 59.
73. HC, pp. 59, 69, 73.
74. HC, pp. 54, 186-7, 372, 472.
75. This begs a question: what little we know of episcopal visitation is brought together in Episcopate, pp. 175-8.
76. HC, pp. 147-8, 545; LFH III, ap. xxxiii at pp. 102-4. See also the remarks of Professor García in his review of Episcopate in Anuario de Historia del Derecho Español, 49 (1979), 755-9.
77. LFH IV, ap. xxiv, pp. 67-8.
78. Galicia Histórica. Colección Diplomática (Santiago de Compostela, 1901), no. xxviii: the year is in doubt -- perhaps 1125.
79. HC, pp. 359-60, 417.
80. HC, p. 181.
81. HC, pp. 176, 181, 191, 485.
82. HC, p. 179.
83. HC, pp. 361-2.
84. For what follows see R. 29 October 1024; HC, pp. 15, 73-4, 186, 304-7, 372, 393; AHN 1749/21. The site has not changed much since Diego's day. Although I have inspected the buildings carefully in the light of these texts on three occasions (1968, 1972 and 1978) I am still not sure of the exact building sequence. The site deserves the attention of an expert. However, when I was last there it was rumoured that it was about to undergo the terrible fate of 'restoration', so it may already be too late.
85. LSJ, p. 270: on 'Avitus Maimon' see also CAI c. 104.
86. HC, pp. 261 287(285), 305; Heimskringla, trans. E. Monsen and A. H. Smith (Cambridge, 1932), p. 607.
87. For what follows, see HC, pp. 133-5, 198-9, 301-3, 325, 424-5.
88. HC, pp. 136, 444: note the reference to siege-engines.
89. The classic treatment is that of C. Erdmann, Die Entstehung des Kreuzzugsgedankens (Stuttgart, 1935).
90. HC, pp. 135, 198, 520.
91. All these instances are drawn from Diego's decrees ad protegendos pauperes issued in 1113: HC, pp. 176-81.
92. R. 14 May 1112, 13 June 1120; HC, pp. 471, 534-5; AC Santiago de Compostela, Tumbo de Sta. María de Iria, fo. 2r-3r. See also A. López Ferreiro, Fueros municipales de Santiago y de su tierra (Santiago de Compostela, 1895).
93. J. N. Hillgarth, 'Popular Religion in Visigothic Spain', in Visigothic Spain. New Approaches, ed. E. James (Oxford, 1980), pp. 3-60; quotation from p. 27.
94. HC, p. 101, and cf. p. 116.
95. HC, pp. 178-80; Sancti Rudesindi Miracula III, c. 27, in Portugalliae Monumenta Historica, Scriptores, ed. A. Herculano (Lisbon, 1856), pp. 39-46.
96. HC, pp. 181, 191, 501-2, 547-8.
97. HC, pp. 174-5.
98. HC, p. 192, and cf. pp. 362-4, 381, 485.
99. HC, pp. 192, 363, 414.