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Where last we left the Marquises of Montferrat, we followed the incredibly splotchy story of William V, whose biggest contribution to history was pumping out a bunch of sons to marry off to more important people in the Holy Land's political circles. Today, we'll step back and explore the life of his son, Conrad, who's biggest contribution to history was being married off to more important people in the Holy Land's political circles. Well that, and becoming one of the medieval era's greatest murder mysteries, but unless I'm feeling particularly pretentious, I generally like to start my stories at the beginning. Unfortunately for us, we don't really have an exact point to pin as the "beginning" here. Conrad was born in aforementioned Montferrat (a region in what is now northern Italy), the second child of the aforementioned William (a nobleman of the Frankish Aleramici family) and his wife Judith. We know that much, but not precisely when or where he was born. Most of the internet biographers I've come across hazard a guess that Conrad was born in the 1140s-ish, presumably based on the assumption that he was born sometime before or after his father participated in the Second Crusade. As far as I could tell, there's no documented reason for this assumption, and we know what they say about assuming. It opens the door for jackasses who think they're funny, like me, to go "erhmm technically before or after 1147 includes literally every other point in the lifespan of the Universe", and nobody wants that.

Conrad's life starts to get more interesting than your average medieval nobleman mad lib when, in 1179, his father switched sides in the rivalry between the Holy Roman Emperor, Frederick Barbarossa, and the actual Roman Emperor, Manuel I Komnenos. Manuel had ensured this allegiance with a hefty Scrooge McDuck sack of gold and the promise of marriage between William's younger son Renier and Manuel's daughter Maria. Conrad escorted his little brother to Constantinople, where he was generally well-received by the Emperor's court as a tall, blond, and handsome aristocratic NPC. Renier and Maria were both executed in 1183 for conspiring to take the purple, but Conrad had already gotten well out of dodge while he still had a reputation intact. Plus, his nephew Baldwin had ascended to the throne of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, so William needed Conrad to stay behind and keep Montferrat nice and subdued while he traveled to the Holy Land to serve as the royal babysitter.

Despite the minor oopsie of his brother trying to usurp the Roman throne, Emperor Isaac II Angelos was still really anxious to hook Conrad into his clique. By March 1187, Conrad had become a widower, and the Emperor thought that this was totally rad, because that meant he could invite Conrad to marry his daughter Theodora. Conrad accepted, and traveled back to Constantinople just in time to aid his new brother-in-law in suppressing the rebellion of general Alexios Branas. Byzantine historian Niketas Choniates praises Conrad for the cunning and bravery he demonstrated in counseling Isaac's war effort, but honestly, reading his account really makes it seem like Isaac was just sort of a dope. I don't think that was his intention, but pretty much all of Conrad's advice amounts to "hey man, how about you stop stuffing mutton down your throat and pay your army", and then Isaac gets up and cheers like "holy shit, how did I not think of that!". Conrad actually took the field against Branas personally, defeating the rebel general in a joust. Reportedly, Branas exclaimed his fear of death when he was at Conrad's mercy, and Conrad assured him not to worry, because the worst that's going to happen is just that they'd cut off his head. And then they cut off his head. Jesus Christ, chill dude. A huge feast was thrown in honor of the victory, but Conrad felt like Isaac was still snubbing him on the reward money. So, in July, Conrad quit this gig to reunite with his father in Tyre.

Things had not been going well for the Marquis of Montferrat by this point. Baldwin had died in 1186. Big sad, oh no, what a shame, he wasn't even ten years old yet. But more importantly, Saladin retook Jerusalem from the Crusaders! William himself had been captured at the Battle of Hattin and held for ransom by Saladin, who offered his release to Conrad in exchange for the peaceful surrender of Tyre. Sources differ on the exact dialog that followed, but Conrad basically responded with something along the lines of "eat lead motherfucker", and shot a crossbow bolt right between the eyes of the Ayyubid diplomat holding his father to rescue him. I'm not entirely convinced this isn't something that Conrad made up at a cocktail party, but I digress. Tyre was besieged, Conrad repulsed the Ayyubids, and he was now free to focus on his next conquest: Jerusalem.

I don't mean in the sense of reclaiming it from the Ayyubids, mind you. No no no, that would imply the Crusaders could put aside their differences to unite against a common enemy. Let's not be silly here. Instead, Conrad just wanted the crown that'd been squabbled over since little Baldwin kicked it. Technically, Baldwin's mother Sibylla had been crowned regent as a compromise to keep the various factions from killing one another for her hand. Pretty much immediately after her coronation, however, she turned right around and married the one guy pretty much everyone disliked: Guy of Lusignan. While this put everyone in a tizzy, Saladin worked out the perfect solution for them in 1187: retake Jerusalem and capture Guy at the Battle of Hattin. Saladin was universally renowned as a cool dude, however, and let Guy go free in 1189. Guy attempted to set up shop in Conrad's Tyre, but when he arrived at the gates and ordered them to open for the King of Jerusalem, Conrad called over the walls "lmao if you're King of Jerusalem, then why aren't you in Jerusalem, nerd?" I think as scholars we can safely assume that the accusation that Guy's mother was a hamster and his father smelled of elderberries was thrown in there as well.

When Sibylla (the one who actually held the inheritance, remember) died in 1190, Guy's claim to the throne was all but null. The gambit fell to whoever could be the first to marry her sister and successor, Isabella. One small problem… she was already happily married and minding her own business as queen. Well that simply wouldn't do! Conrad hatched a scheme with the barons of Jerusalem to A: kidnap Isabella away from her husband, and B: forcibly annul her marriage on the basis that she was a minor when the marriage took place. While… yes okay, I agree with that part (she was only eleven when she was married to seventeen-year old Humphrey of Toron, ew), she was an adult by this point and could make her own decisions. I mean okay, women didn't exactly have rights to make their own decisions back then, but even chroniclers of the time, even those who liked Conrad, universally agreed that this was a total dick move. Nonetheless, with her marriage annulled, Conrad was free to marry her in November 1190. Conveniently, all those barons he'd conspired with unanimously agreed to elect Conrad king in April 1192, funny that. He was never actually crowned, though. He never got the chance. Four days before his coronation, while walking home from dinner with a friend, Conrad was approached by a couple of monks whom he had befriended and welcomed into his entourage over the past few months. They had a good chat, took a lovely stroll, and then the monks shivved him in the street. These monks, it turned out, were undercover agents of the Assassins, a sect of Nizari Ismailis renowned for their mastery of stealth and infiltration. One Assassin was cut down on the spot, while the other escaped to a nearby church, where he was found and captured for interrogation. Conrad did not survive his wounds.

Now I know what you're thinking, and stop that you dirty weirdo, this is a place of education goddammit. You might also be thinking: wait Ava, I thought you said this was one of the medieval era's great murder mysteries? This seems pretty cut and dry (ha). Well yes, you're right. Everyone agrees it was the Assassins that wielded the knife, that much is obvious. What makes it a mystery is the question of who ordered the hit. This is where it gets juicy with all the delicious cream filling of conspiracy, so let's put on our tinfoil helmets and quickly summarize the major suspects.

The first suspect that comes to mind is pretty obvious: Rashid ad-Din Sinan, the Old Man of the Mountain who led the Syrian-based Assassins until his death in 1193. It would be a pretty simple matter for him to take the credit, and in fact, he did… very loudly. Very publicly, very fast. Almost too fast. Almost as fast as Isabella was remarried to this guy named Henry. The body wasn't even cold yet when a mere twelve days after the assassination, a still-pregnant Isabella found herself with a new man. That's all well and good, cheers to the happy couple, but who the fuck is Henry? Well he was nobody, really, he was the Count of Champagne and… oh yeah, nephew of Richard the Lionheart. That's the King Richard the Lionheart, the same man who notoriously espoused that Conrad was a scheming, salacious, godless little shit weasel, and who vocally supported the legitimacy of Guy over Conrad, who had been primarily backed by Richard's two arch frenemies: King Philip II of France and Saladin himself. In fact… there might not even need to be any speculation here. Remember how I said one Assassin survived to be interrogated? Well he sang like a canary and told them straight up that it was Richard who ordered the hit. Now okay, sure, medieval interrogation methods are famous for getting their victims to say anything they wanted, but man, those optics are reaaaaally suss, dude.

But okay, let's give Richard the benefit of the doubt. If not him or Rashid, then who else? The next most obvious suspect would be Guy of Lusignan, but he relocated to Cyprus in May 1192… aboard Richard's ships, I might add. If Guy was responsible, you'd think he'd have slipped right in to reclaim his lost throne instead of relegating himself to his island kingdom. Isabella's ex-husband would've had similar motives, but he seems to just drop out of historical importance after the annulment of his marriage. He did, however, become a diplomat in Richard's entourage, as he was fluent in Arabic and thus perfect for negotiating with Saladin's brother Al-Adil. If he had ever conspired anything, it likely would've been through Richard anyway, and yet clearly he wasn't Richard's poster boy for replacing Conrad. That role was obviously reserved for Henry.

In fact… maybe we should rope Henry into the list of suspects? He certainly gained the most out of the incident, and he was one of the last people to speak with Conrad on the matter of his kingship (it was Henry who was sent to Acre to inform Conrad of his election, and as soon as that was done, he bounced back to Tyre where Conrad's soon-to-be-widow would be right there ready to be wed). Henry even partook in a diplomatic mission to the Assassin headquarters of Al-Kahf in 1194, where the Assassins reassured him of their command over death by ordering two of their fida'i to fling themselves off the castle. On the other hand, though, Henry had also been pretty hesitant to marry Isabella. Like I said, she was pregnant with Conrad's heir at the time of the murder, and Henry wasn't about to raise someone else's kid to be king. The nobles had to assure him they'd give his sons the inheritance if he married Isabella in order to persuade him, which means his change of heart could only have taken place in a very short amount of time, probably shorter than the months necessary to coordinate an infiltration and assassination with Sinan. I should also add that when Henry finally did decide he wanted to marry Isabella, who did he first go to for permission? His uncle, Richard. So… yeah, given how all this happened a thousand years ago, we'll probably never know for sure, but I for one am pointing the finger hard at Richard. If King Richard had nothing to do with the death of Conrad, then there wasn't a second shooter in Dallas in 1963.

Design notes, the internet seems to have only two depictions of Conrad of Montferrat to offer. One is a little illustration of his marriage to Isabella from a 12th century manuscript which, as far as I can tell, is just called "François 2824", very snappy, good job guys. The other, more famous one, is an 1843 oil painting by François-Édouard Picot. I took the colors and basic silhouette from the medieval illustration, and only supplemented it with the smaller details from Picot's depiction (plus a few of my own minor embellishments to flesh it out). I leaned more on the medieval one because well A: it's contemporary, and B: I just find Picot's choice of colors to be frankly lackluster. Like dude, what is that blood red cross doing on a dark blue cape? The clash is incredibly annoying. The Marquises of Montferrat are also generally described as tall, blond, and handsome, whereas Picot makes Conrad's hair a dark brown, but I'm willing to chalk that up to it just being an obscure fact anyways. Niketas Choniates actually describes Conrad as wearing purple robes, a clear symbol of the title of "caesar" which was bestowed upon him while in Constantinople. This threw me into more of a tizzy than you'd expect. I originally wanted to make his cape an obvious Byzantine purple, but the composition just wasn't right for that to blend well. Ultimately, I reasoned with myself that what my pencil box calls "maroon" is usually lumped in as "purple" in ancient sources. Appropriately looking up "Tyrian purple" for this piece will get you two similar yet distinct shades on a sort of sliding scale. So yeah, I cheated, but I think it was for the greater good.

Description
Where last we left the Marquises of Montferrat, we followed the incredibly splotchy story of William V, whose biggest contribution to history was pumping out a bunch of sons to marry off to more important people in the Holy Land's political circles. Today, we'll step back and explore the life of his son, Conrad, who's biggest contribution to history was being married off to more important people in the Holy Land's political circles. Well that, and becoming one of the medieval era's greatest murder mysteries, but unless I'm feeling particularly pretentious, I generally like to start my stories at the beginning. Unfortunately for us, we don't really have an exact point to pin as the "beginning" here. Conrad was born in aforementioned Montferrat (a region in what is now northern Italy), the second child of the aforementioned William (a nobleman of the Frankish Aleramici family) and his wife Judith. We know that much, but not precisely when or where he was born. Most of the internet biographers I've come across hazard a guess that Conrad was born in the 1140s-ish, presumably based on the assumption that he was born sometime before or after his father participated in the Second Crusade. As far as I could tell, there's no documented reason for this assumption, and we know what they say about assuming. It opens the door for jackasses who think they're funny, like me, to go "erhmm technically before or after 1147 includes literally every other point in the lifespan of the Universe", and nobody wants that.

Conrad's life starts to get more interesting than your average medieval nobleman mad lib when, in 1179, his father switched sides in the rivalry between the Holy Roman Emperor, Frederick Barbarossa, and the actual Roman Emperor, Manuel I Komnenos. Manuel had ensured this allegiance with a hefty Scrooge McDuck sack of gold and the promise of marriage between William's younger son Renier and Manuel's daughter Maria. Conrad escorted his little brother to Constantinople, where he was generally well-received by the Emperor's court as a tall, blond, and handsome aristocratic NPC. Renier and Maria were both executed in 1183 for conspiring to take the purple, but Conrad had already gotten well out of dodge while he still had a reputation intact. Plus, his nephew Baldwin had ascended to the throne of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, so William needed Conrad to stay behind and keep Montferrat nice and subdued while he traveled to the Holy Land to serve as the royal babysitter.

Despite the minor oopsie of his brother trying to usurp the Roman throne, Emperor Isaac II Angelos was still really anxious to hook Conrad into his clique. By March 1187, Conrad had become a widower, and the Emperor thought that this was totally rad, because that meant he could invite Conrad to marry his daughter Theodora. Conrad accepted, and traveled back to Constantinople just in time to aid his new brother-in-law in suppressing the rebellion of general Alexios Branas. Byzantine historian Niketas Choniates praises Conrad for the cunning and bravery he demonstrated in counseling Isaac's war effort, but honestly, reading his account really makes it seem like Isaac was just sort of a dope. I don't think that was his intention, but pretty much all of Conrad's advice amounts to "hey man, how about you stop stuffing mutton down your throat and pay your army", and then Isaac gets up and cheers like "holy shit, how did I not think of that!". Conrad actually took the field against Branas personally, defeating the rebel general in a joust. Reportedly, Branas exclaimed his fear of death when he was at Conrad's mercy, and Conrad assured him not to worry, because the worst that's going to happen is just that they'd cut off his head. And then they cut off his head. Jesus Christ, chill dude. A huge feast was thrown in honor of the victory, but Conrad felt like Isaac was still snubbing him on the reward money. So, in July, Conrad quit this gig to reunite with his father in Tyre.

Things had not been going well for the Marquis of Montferrat by this point. Baldwin had died in 1186. Big sad, oh no, what a shame, he wasn't even ten years old yet. But more importantly, Saladin retook Jerusalem from the Crusaders! William himself had been captured at the Battle of Hattin and held for ransom by Saladin, who offered his release to Conrad in exchange for the peaceful surrender of Tyre. Sources differ on the exact dialog that followed, but Conrad basically responded with something along the lines of "eat lead motherfucker", and shot a crossbow bolt right between the eyes of the Ayyubid diplomat holding his father to rescue him. I'm not entirely convinced this isn't something that Conrad made up at a cocktail party, but I digress. Tyre was besieged, Conrad repulsed the Ayyubids, and he was now free to focus on his next conquest: Jerusalem.

I don't mean in the sense of reclaiming it from the Ayyubids, mind you. No no no, that would imply the Crusaders could put aside their differences to unite against a common enemy. Let's not be silly here. Instead, Conrad just wanted the crown that'd been squabbled over since little Baldwin kicked it. Technically, Baldwin's mother Sibylla had been crowned regent as a compromise to keep the various factions from killing one another for her hand. Pretty much immediately after her coronation, however, she turned right around and married the one guy pretty much everyone disliked: Guy of Lusignan. While this put everyone in a tizzy, Saladin worked out the perfect solution for them in 1187: retake Jerusalem and capture Guy at the Battle of Hattin. Saladin was universally renowned as a cool dude, however, and let Guy go free in 1189. Guy attempted to set up shop in Conrad's Tyre, but when he arrived at the gates and ordered them to open for the King of Jerusalem, Conrad called over the walls "lmao if you're King of Jerusalem, then why aren't you in Jerusalem, nerd?" I think as scholars we can safely assume that the accusation that Guy's mother was a hamster and his father smelled of elderberries was thrown in there as well.

When Sibylla (the one who actually held the inheritance, remember) died in 1190, Guy's claim to the throne was all but null. The gambit fell to whoever could be the first to marry her sister and successor, Isabella. One small problem… she was already happily married and minding her own business as queen. Well that simply wouldn't do! Conrad hatched a scheme with the barons of Jerusalem to A: kidnap Isabella away from her husband, and B: forcibly annul her marriage on the basis that she was a minor when the marriage took place. While… yes okay, I agree with that part (she was only eleven when she was married to seventeen-year old Humphrey of Toron, ew), she was an adult by this point and could make her own decisions. I mean okay, women didn't exactly have rights to make their own decisions back then, but even chroniclers of the time, even those who liked Conrad, universally agreed that this was a total dick move. Nonetheless, with her marriage annulled, Conrad was free to marry her in November 1190. Conveniently, all those barons he'd conspired with unanimously agreed to elect Conrad king in April 1192, funny that. He was never actually crowned, though. He never got the chance. Four days before his coronation, while walking home from dinner with a friend, Conrad was approached by a couple of monks whom he had befriended and welcomed into his entourage over the past few months. They had a good chat, took a lovely stroll, and then the monks shivved him in the street. These monks, it turned out, were undercover agents of the Assassins, a sect of Nizari Ismailis renowned for their mastery of stealth and infiltration. One Assassin was cut down on the spot, while the other escaped to a nearby church, where he was found and captured for interrogation. Conrad did not survive his wounds.

Now I know what you're thinking, and stop that you dirty weirdo, this is a place of education goddammit. You might also be thinking: wait Ava, I thought you said this was one of the medieval era's great murder mysteries? This seems pretty cut and dry (ha). Well yes, you're right. Everyone agrees it was the Assassins that wielded the knife, that much is obvious. What makes it a mystery is the question of who ordered the hit. This is where it gets juicy with all the delicious cream filling of conspiracy, so let's put on our tinfoil helmets and quickly summarize the major suspects.

The first suspect that comes to mind is pretty obvious: Rashid ad-Din Sinan, the Old Man of the Mountain who led the Syrian-based Assassins until his death in 1193. It would be a pretty simple matter for him to take the credit, and in fact, he did… very loudly. Very publicly, very fast. Almost too fast. Almost as fast as Isabella was remarried to this guy named Henry. The body wasn't even cold yet when a mere twelve days after the assassination, a still-pregnant Isabella found herself with a new man. That's all well and good, cheers to the happy couple, but who the fuck is Henry? Well he was nobody, really, he was the Count of Champagne and… oh yeah, nephew of Richard the Lionheart. That's the King Richard the Lionheart, the same man who notoriously espoused that Conrad was a scheming, salacious, godless little shit weasel, and who vocally supported the legitimacy of Guy over Conrad, who had been primarily backed by Richard's two arch frenemies: King Philip II of France and Saladin himself. In fact… there might not even need to be any speculation here. Remember how I said one Assassin survived to be interrogated? Well he sang like a canary and told them straight up that it was Richard who ordered the hit. Now okay, sure, medieval interrogation methods are famous for getting their victims to say anything they wanted, but man, those optics are reaaaaally suss, dude.

But okay, let's give Richard the benefit of the doubt. If not him or Rashid, then who else? The next most obvious suspect would be Guy of Lusignan, but he relocated to Cyprus in May 1192… aboard Richard's ships, I might add. If Guy was responsible, you'd think he'd have slipped right in to reclaim his lost throne instead of relegating himself to his island kingdom. Isabella's ex-husband would've had similar motives, but he seems to just drop out of historical importance after the annulment of his marriage. He did, however, become a diplomat in Richard's entourage, as he was fluent in Arabic and thus perfect for negotiating with Saladin's brother Al-Adil. If he had ever conspired anything, it likely would've been through Richard anyway, and yet clearly he wasn't Richard's poster boy for replacing Conrad. That role was obviously reserved for Henry.

In fact… maybe we should rope Henry into the list of suspects? He certainly gained the most out of the incident, and he was one of the last people to speak with Conrad on the matter of his kingship (it was Henry who was sent to Acre to inform Conrad of his election, and as soon as that was done, he bounced back to Tyre where Conrad's soon-to-be-widow would be right there ready to be wed). Henry even partook in a diplomatic mission to the Assassin headquarters of Al-Kahf in 1194, where the Assassins reassured him of their command over death by ordering two of their fida'i to fling themselves off the castle. On the other hand, though, Henry had also been pretty hesitant to marry Isabella. Like I said, she was pregnant with Conrad's heir at the time of the murder, and Henry wasn't about to raise someone else's kid to be king. The nobles had to assure him they'd give his sons the inheritance if he married Isabella in order to persuade him, which means his change of heart could only have taken place in a very short amount of time, probably shorter than the months necessary to coordinate an infiltration and assassination with Sinan. I should also add that when Henry finally did decide he wanted to marry Isabella, who did he first go to for permission? His uncle, Richard. So… yeah, given how all this happened a thousand years ago, we'll probably never know for sure, but I for one am pointing the finger hard at Richard. If King Richard had nothing to do with the death of Conrad, then there wasn't a second shooter in Dallas in 1963.

Design notes, the internet seems to have only two depictions of Conrad of Montferrat to offer. One is a little illustration of his marriage to Isabella from a 12th century manuscript which, as far as I can tell, is just called "François 2824", very snappy, good job guys. The other, more famous one, is an 1843 oil painting by François-Édouard Picot. I took the colors and basic silhouette from the medieval illustration, and only supplemented it with the smaller details from Picot's depiction (plus a few of my own minor embellishments to flesh it out). I leaned more on the medieval one because well A: it's contemporary, and B: I just find Picot's choice of colors to be frankly lackluster. Like dude, what is that blood red cross doing on a dark blue cape? The clash is incredibly annoying. The Marquises of Montferrat are also generally described as tall, blond, and handsome, whereas Picot makes Conrad's hair a dark brown, but I'm willing to chalk that up to it just being an obscure fact anyways. Niketas Choniates actually describes Conrad as wearing purple robes, a clear symbol of the title of "caesar" which was bestowed upon him while in Constantinople. This threw me into more of a tizzy than you'd expect. I originally wanted to make his cape an obvious Byzantine purple, but the composition just wasn't right for that to blend well. Ultimately, I reasoned with myself that what my pencil box calls "maroon" is usually lumped in as "purple" in ancient sources. Appropriately looking up "Tyrian purple" for this piece will get you two similar yet distinct shades on a sort of sliding scale. So yeah, I cheated, but I think it was for the greater good.