Caroline Matilda was born July 22, 1751. She was the daughter of Frederick, Prince of Wales and Princess Augusta of Saxe-Gotha, and was the youngest of nine children. Her father passed away just before she was born; he was the oldest son and heir of King George II of Great Britain and died at the age 44. Her older brother would eventually become King George III in 1760.   Caroline was educated, and like Queen Victoria later was, excluded from the court due to her mother’s discomfort of the court lifestyle. She could speak French, German, and Italian. She still knew many of her extended relations of the royal family.   Caroline Matilda Portrait of Princess Caroline Matilda of Great Britain, 1754, by Jean-Etienne Liotard. Source: Wikimedia Commons   Princess Caroline was betrothed and married at a very young age. This was not unusual for the time period between countries and other high-ranking families. Often alliances were shored up as early as possible. Even though many were engaged when they were children, or sometimes even “married”, the actual marriage or relations after would not take place until they were older. It was just to ensure the alliance would not be broken.   Queen Caroline framed portrait. Source: Englishmonarchs.co.uk   In 1766, when she was 15, Caroline married the King of Denmark, Christian VII. They had become engaged early in the year of 1765 as a political marriage before his father died. Christian VII was her first cousin – his mother was her father’s sister. Originally the bride of choice was her sister Louisa, but Louisa suffered from illnesses and had health issues. This was probably a wise decision as Louisa caught tuberculosis and died at 19 years old.   While many marriages of this time were arranged, some could find a friendship or develop love over time. This marriage, however, did not have that. Christian VII had not wanted to get married, or at least not so soon, even if it was important in order to establish an heir.   Christian VII of Denmark Portrait of King Christian VII of Denmark in coronation robes and holding a crown and scepter, 1772 by Alexander Roslin. Source: Wikimedia Commons   Christian VII was born January 29, 1749 in Copenhagen. He became the King of Norway and Denmark in 1766, the same year he married Queen Caroline. He had several siblings, including two older sisters Sophia and Wilhelmina. Only a few of his siblings survived birth and childhood. His own mother would die after her sixth pregnancy before she was 30. He had a half-brother named Frederick.   There is speculation on what exactly caused the king’s mental illness. There are sources that discuss mental illness in several monarchs of the past. Joanna of Castile—known historically as Joanna the Mad (although many historians today believe she had a smear campaign against her in order for others to seize her throne), and King George III—Queen Caroline’s own relation who seemed to have periods of mental instability, as well as French King Charles VI who suffered from Glass Delusion.   According to Britannica, “his mental instability has been attributed to a brutal childhood governor and to morally corrupt court pages. After his 1766 marriage to Caroline Matilda…he gave himself up to debauchery.” This could have been the result of a father who was an alcoholic, a distant step mother, and his own mother’s death – the trauma of being alone and not having a traditional stable childhood along with a court that allowed “debauchery” to take place.   It is impossible to diagnose from a different time with different resources. He was a bright man during his clarity, and it is thought that he might have suffered from schizophrenia.   Johann Friedrich Struensee’s Connection to the King Portrait of Johann Friedrich Struensee, 1824, by Jens Juel. Source: Wikimedia Commons   Struensee was born in Germany on August 5, 1737. By this time King Christian VII’s illness was starting to affect the government. They brought Struensee in order to help the king and his mood swings and so-called “eccentricities.” He was later appointed the court physician and was in place to help suggest policies that would be put into place. According to historian John Christian Laursen, “[His] years in power were marked by a flurry of reform measures designed to liberalize the economy, liberate the serfs, and generally bring his idea of Enlightenment to Denmark.” What Struensee did not take into consideration is that not everyone would benefit from these.   The Love Affair Between Queen Caroline and Struensee Alicia Vikander and Mads Mikkelsen in “A Royal Affair” about Queen Caroline and Struensee. Source: Magnolia Pictures   By all accounts Queen Caroline and Struensee did not like each other or get along at first. When they were eventually found out – as all these things tend to be found out – they both admitted to the affair in order to save the other. However it is hard to completely understand if it was the love affair depicted by many films, or if as Charles Singer states, “[Struensee] ultimately obtained political ascendancy in Denmark and personal ascendancy of that country’s unfortunate queen.”   The Danish film A Royal Affair was released in 2012 and tells the store of the affair between Queen Caroline and Struensee while King Christian VII was falling more ill. While it does follow some plot points, it is unlikely that Caroline wrote a letter to her daughter explaining her parentage. Something like that would have been incredibly damaging to her daughter and her chance at a good life and marriage at that time.   What Happened to Queen Caroline and Struensee? Struensee’s arrest—from “Fabricius: Illustreret Danmarkshistorie for folket,” 1915 woodcut. Source: Wikimedia Commons   As with most affairs that are against a King, their ending was not a happy one. The aftermath was initially chaotic. King Christian VII arrested Struensee. This led to political confusion because of how involved Struensee was involved in political affairs. Many closest to them were interrogated. Enevold Brandt, a friend of Struensee, admitted to the knowledge of the crime. Public opinion also turned against both Struensee, who was not the most well liked to begin with, and Queen Caroline. They disproved the actions of the queen and got caught up in the very public trial.   Queen Caroline of Denmark by Jens Juel, 1771. Source: Gogmsite   Struensee and his friend Count Enevold Brandt were beheaded, quartered, and put to the wheel. When Struensee died on April 28, 1772 he was only 34 years old and all the politics and reform he worked at in his position by the king was mostly overturned. According to John Christian Laursen, “Late eighteenth-century Denmark was not known for barbarities of the type represented by Struensee’s executions. Previously disgraced prime ministers had merely been imprisoned.”   Although she did not face a trial and execution, Queen Caroline did not fare much better. She was essentially put under house-arrest in her bedroom with her freedoms restricted. She lived in exile for the rest of her life – 50 lonely years still hated by the majority of the country. Her affair became a symbol of forbidden love and the outcomes of an unhappy marriage, as well as the political upheavals of Denmark in the 18th-century.

  Few people have come close to achieving such legendary status as Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar, better known as El Cid. Throughout his life, he fought for both Christian and Muslim armies, and was greatly respected and revered by both. In fact, his tale has been told so often that history and legend have been mixed up. The primary aim of this article is to distinguish the difference between the two and tell the story of the man behind the myth.   El Cid’s Early Life Statue of El Cid in Burgos, Spain. Source: Wikimedia Commons   El Cid was born as Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar in the northern Spanish village of Vivar in approximately 1043. His father was called Diego Laínez, and he was a cavalryman and courtier as well as a bureaucrat who had himself fought in several battles. His mother also came from aristocratic stock, although in later years the peasants would claim El Cid as one of their own.   El Cid’s first real taste of battle was in 1057 in the service of King Sancho II of Castile. He fought against the Moorish stronghold of Zaragoza, eventually making its emir a vassal of King Sancho. This was in the early years of the Reconquista, which is when Christian Spain attempted to claim its land back from the Moors (or Muslims) who had conquered much of the Iberian Peninsula since the 8th century.   At the Battle of Graus, on May 8, 1063, El Cid fought an Aragonese knight in single combat and defeated him, which earned him the nickname “Campeador,” meaning “Champion.” It was around this time that Sancho learned that his brother Alfonso VI of León was planning to overthrow him, so he sent El Cid to bring Alfonso to him to speak to him in person.   El Cid and Alfonso VI Sancho II, c. 1312-25. Source: Spanish Digital Library   During the Siege of Zamora in 1072, Sancho was assassinated. Because he died childless and unmarried, his power passed to his brother. Therefore, Alfonso did not need to overthrow his brother, it happened naturally. However, this did not mean that he did not have any battles—physical and political—to fight.   Alfonso immediately returned from exile and took his seat as King of both León and Castile. Many contemporaries presumed that he had played some part or been involved in the dirty work of assassinating his brother.   Many senior figures forced Alfonso to swear in front of numerous holy relics that he had played no part in the assassination of Sancho II, which he allegedly did.   By 1079, El Cid had been sent to Seville on the instructions of Alfonso VI to the court of Abbad III to collect the parias (tribute) owed to the kingdom of León-Castile. While El Cid was in Seville, the Kingdom of Granada attacked the city, and El Cid helped to defend it.   At the Battle of Cabra (1079), El Cid actually helped to repel the Christian forces that were attacking the city, and he gained great respect from the Moorish troops whom he had taken under his command. They gave him the nickname “Sayyidi.”   El Cid’s Exile Alfonso VI, conquering Toledo, Seville, Spain. Source: Wikimedia Commons   During the Battle of Cabra, El Cid turned the battle into a rout of Emir Abdullah of Granada. However, this greatly angered Alfonso VI, who, enraged at El Cid’s unauthorized expedition into Granada, exiled him. He is not mentioned in any of Alfonso VI’s documents after May 8, 1080.   It was most likely the knight’s expedition into Toledo as part of this campaign that angered Alfonso VI so much, because Toledo was a vassal of the king at the time.   However, El Cid made sure that this exile was not to be the end of him, nor just a tragic footnote in the life of this northern Spanish knight. First, he traveled to Barcelona, where his service was refused by Ramon Berenguer II.   As he had previously helped the Moors before, he soon realized: why not help them again? As a result, he returned to the Taifa of Zaragoza, where he received a much warmer welcome.   El Cid’s Service Under the Moors Alfonso VI swearing against his involvement in Sancho II’s murder (El Cid in the green to the left), by Marcos Hiráldez Acosta, 1864. Source: Wikimedia Commons   In 1081, El Cid offered his services to Yusuf al-Mu’taman ibn Hud, who was the King of Zaragoza. He would end up serving both al-Mu’taman and his successor, Abu Ja’far Ahmad ibn Yusuf ibn Hud, who was better known as al-Musta’in II. It was during these years that El Cid was formally given the title of “El Cid,” which means “the Master.”   He was also promoted and given the position of commander. Very few people believe that armies were diverse in the Middle Ages, but the one that El Cid commanded certainly was. It was made up of a force of Berbers, Arabs, Malians, and Muwallads. El Cid was greatly respected by his troops and the Muslim community in Zaragoza, despite not being a Muslim himself.   It was not long before the victories started pouring in for El Cid, either. In 1082, he was victorious at the Battle of Almenar, when the Kingdom of Zaragoza defeated the Taifa of Lleida under the scorching Spanish summer sunshine.   The Almoravid Dynasty, a ruling Berber Muslim dynasty, at its greatest extent, 12th century. Source: Wikimedia Commons   On August 14, 1084, he oversaw another huge victory for Zaragoza, when he defeated an Aragonese force at the Battle of Morella, where over 2,000 Aragonese prisoners were taken and many more killed.   However, the same autumn, the Christians began a siege of Toledo, and captured Salamanca the following year, which was a stronghold of the Taifa of Toledo.   The Almoravids, who were a Berber dynasty from North Africa, began an invasion of the Iberian Peninsula in 1086, and they were asked to help defend the Moors from Alfonso VI’s Christian forces. At the Battle of Sagrajas in 1086, this combined force of Muslims successfully defeated Alfonso’s Christian army, keeping the southern Iberian Peninsula under Moorish control.   The Christians responded by attacking from the north, which was slightly more successful: Raymond of Burgundy and his allies captured some northern territory via siege warfare, which blocked the route between the Taifas in the eastern and western Iberian Peninsula.   El Cid’s Return From Exile Primera hazaña del Cid, by Juan Vicens Cots, 1864, via Museo Del Prado   Alfonso panicked after realizing how strong El Cid was fighting alongside the Muslim forces, and recalled him from his exile, promising him lavish titles, lands, and money. El Cid returned, but he had his own ideas.   Although he came back, shortly afterwards he returned to Zaragoza. While the risk of Alfonso’s territories being taken over by the Almoravids was very much real, El Cid hoped that by avoiding the fighting, both armies would weaken themselves.   The Conquest of Valencia Statue of El Cid, Burgos, Spain, c. 14th-15th century. Source: Wikimedia Commons   Perhaps the most successful moment in El Cid’s life and career came during the conquest of Valencia, which took place from 1092-94.   With his combined force of Christians and Muslims, El Cid moved toward Valencia in order to claim territory that he would use as his fiefdom—essentially enabling him to rule his own kingdom.   However, he had a few obstacles in his way, the first being the man who had turned down his services following his exile from King Alfonso VI in 1080: Ramon Berenguer II, who still ruled the nearby city of Barcelona.   El Cid defeated Ramon Berenguer II at the Battle of Tébar in May 1090 and took him prisoner. However, he was later released, and in the years to come, his nephew (Ramon Berenguer III) would marry one of El Cid’s daughters to prevent any future conflict between the two families.   Close-up of El Cid Balboa Park Statue. Source: Wikimedia Commons   As with any medieval knight worth his salt, El Cid conquered numerous towns on the way to Valencia, thus increasing the bits of territory that he now owned. He reached Valencia, which was at the time under the control of Yahya al-Qadir, and during his time in the city, El Cid began to have more and more influence over the city’s politics and organization.   In October 1092, an uprising occurred, so El Cid seized this opportunity to lay siege to the city. In December 1093, an attempt to break the siege failed, so El Cid still held the upper hand. The siege formally ended in 1094, and while sometimes called the Siege of Valencia by some historians, many now refer to it as El Cid’s Siege of Valencia, showing the power and authority he had over it. He had now carved out his own piece of territory on the Mediterranean Coast.   While he ruled the city under Alfonso VI, in reality, he was fully independent, and Valencia during this time became a semi-independent kingdom. Both Christians and Muslims were welcome in the city, which is no surprise, seeing as El Cid was greatly respected by both. Christians and Muslims also served together in the city’s army.   El Cid’s Death and Legacy El Cid and Jimena’s Tomb, Burgos Cathedral. Source: Wikimedia Commons   El Cid would live comfortably in Valencia for the rest of his life, alongside his wife Jimena Díaz. The Almoravids briefly attempted to besiege the city, but El Cid put an end to this swiftly, and the couple would live there peacefully until El Cid’s death in 1099, aged around 56 years old.   Valencia was captured by Mazdali in 1102, and Jimena fled with El Cid’s body to where it was originally buried, in Castile, in the Monastery of San Pedro de Cardeña. However, it is now interred at Burgos Cathedral, not far from his birth village of Vivar, which is now called Vivar del Cid.   While it may be easy to draw a conclusion that paints El Cid simply as a fortunate mercenary, he was much more than that. Mercenaries rarely reached the stage of commanding an army, and even if they did, most of the time they would leave and look for the next-highest bidder for their services.   Throughout his military career, El Cid was highly sought after, and the efforts he put in at the right time ensured that he was destined to write his name into Spanish, Christian, Moorish, and Muslim legend forever.   He defended the Muslims when the Christians attacked, and even though Alfonso VI exiled him, he returned to continue the Reconquista under his name.   El Cid is deservedly one of the most celebrated heroes of the Reconquista and deserves to be held in such high esteem in the histories of numerous religious and ethnic groups to this day.

  Although the tradition of Christian monasticism had its origins in 3rd-century Egypt and the Levant, its medieval form was firmly established by St. Benedict’s Rule of the 6th century. Benedictine monasteries adopted this set of rules and became widespread across Europe in the Early and High Middle Ages. However, over time some of these monasteries became both wealthy and powerful and in the eyes of many strayed from the church’s apostolic roots. In response, several new monastic orders arose to reform and redefine the monastic experience.   1. The Carthusians Photograph of Roche Abbey (Cistercian). Source: Wikimedia Commons   During the course of the 11th century, there was a growing interest in a return to the hermitic form of monasticism, as opposed to the cenobitic, or communal, form that was then prevalent in Benedictine monasteries. Some sought a more ascetic ideal of solitude and reflection than was the Benedictine norm, while the wealth and worldliness of the larger monasteries was also an impetus toward a different ideal. Several hermitic movements sprang up in Italy and Spain but it was in the French Alps that the most well-known such order would arise.   Around 1080 a man named Bruno of Cologne was inspired to leave his position at the cathedral school of Reims to live the hermetic life. In 1084 he was gifted a piece of land in an Alpine valley where he established a small group of hermits. However, it was a later arrival, Guigo du Pin, who would be most influential in crafting the rules that would define the Carthusian order (named after the Chartreuse Mountains).   Ironically, the Carthusians were not hermetic monks in the purest sense but rather their monasteries were somewhat of a hybrid between the hermetic and cenobitic traditions. Initially, the monks lived in individual huts loosely grouped together but over the course of the 12th century, a standard plan for Carthusian monastery buildings was adopted.   The cloister (a square colonnaded walkway), a feature of nearly all medieval monasteries, held a central position while radiating out from it were the individual cells of the monks, each with its own garden. These cells, not the cloister, church, or any other communal area, were the true focus of a Carthusian monastery.   Calvary with a Carthusian Monk, by Jean de Beaumetz, ca. 1389-95. Source: Wikimedia Commons   Carthusian building plans reflect the hybrid nature of this monastic order. Each monk would spend the majority of his time in solitude, either in his cell praying, reflecting, performing services, copying manuscripts, or working in the garden just outside. The strict observance of silence at all times, as prescribed in the Rule of St. Benedict but no longer followed in the majority of Benedictine monasteries, was rigorously adhered to.   Monks ate their meals alone in their cells (one meal per day in winter, two in summer), and their choice of food was strictly limited, with no meat allowed and only bread and water three days per week. Likewise, they used only the sparsest bedding and dressed in coarse clothing. This reflected the main purpose of a Carthusian monastery—to provide a place for contemplation. However, the monks did come together daily to perform Vespers and the night office, and on Sundays and festival days, they would take their meals together. Only on these days, in the afternoon, was a brief period of conversation allowed.   The Carthusian order is fairly unique in that its standards and ideals never really lapsed, and it was never itself the target of a later reform movement, as was the case with many other orders.   2. The Cistercians Life of Saint Bernard of Clairvaux- Saint Bernard exhorts the sick in body to enter his church with their spirits, in doing so returning to find their infirmities healed, Master of Saint Severin, after 1535. Source: The MET, New York   Whereas the Carthusians sought perhaps a “pre-Benedictine” hermetic ideal, the Cistercian monastic order had its sights fixed squarely on the Rule of St. Benedict. The goal of the Cistercians was a complete return to a strict observance of the Rule, from which it was felt that the eponymous Benedictines had drifted quite far, particularly at large and powerful monasteries such as Cluny.   The order was begun in 1098 when a group of monks from the abbey of Molesme received the blessing of Archbishop Hugh of Lyons to move to a wilderness area called Citeaux to found a new monastery in the remote solitude the area offered. The name Citeaux came to be applied to the order that grew out of this foundation and comes down to us as “Cistercian.”   The choice of the original remote site is illustrative of one of the core Cistercian ideals—the complete separation of the monastery from the outside world. The Cistercians saw the large Benedictine monasteries with their wealth, vast lands, vassals, and political entanglements as a gross deviation from the monastic ideal. This new monastic order strictly followed the Rule of St. Benedict, rejected wealth and property, and held hard manual labor to be just as important as prayer and religious services.   The monks lived simply, from their plain dress and simple meals to the lack of ornamentation or sculpture in their buildings. However, it became clear early on that these remote monasteries could not be self-sufficient, as was intended, but rather relied on conversi, or lay brothers, who performed the rest of the work which the monks could not and were their link to the outside world.   Tintern Abbey, Cistercian abbey in the UK, photo by ISAW Company. Source: Unsplash   It took relatively little time for the Cistercians to stray rather far from their strict ideals. Over the course of the 12th century, as new monasteries of the order sprung up across Europe, the Cistercians received numerous landed endowments from wealthy patrons, including the royal families of England and France. As their landed wealth grew so too did the business acumen of the Cistercian abbots, and soon most Cistercian foundations were involved in mercantile pursuits that would have been abhorrent to the founders.   By the 13th century, it could be said that the Cistercians had drifted even farther than the Benedictines had from their early ideals. However, the order remained popular with the nobles and royals of Europe and continued to grow in power and wealth over the following centuries.   The Mendicant Orders Portrait of a Franciscan Friar, by Peter Paul Rubens, between 1615-16. Source: Wikimedia Commons   During the late 12th and early 13th centuries, a new monastic ideal emerged in Europe which was less a reform of existing monastic traditions as a complete redefinition. In various ways these new groups, some of which would later go on to form official monastic orders, sought a return to a life based on the life of Christ and the apostles, rejecting property and living among the people, rather than secluding themselves in a monastery or as hermits.   This new ideal had its roots in the changes affecting medieval society in the previous century and a half. For one thing, the population, while still overwhelmingly rural, was becoming increasingly urban. Medieval cities were growing and trade networks, both within Europe and those connecting Europe to more distant lands, were expanding. The emergence of universities in cities spread literacy, and not just among the clergy. Laymen, mostly those involved in commerce, were also becoming increasingly literate. Thus, urban conditions were facilitating the spread of ideas which simply was not possible earlier in the Middle Ages when cities were smaller, scarcer, and less connected.   These changes led a growing number of people to notice and question the gulf between the apostolic life, as expounded in the Gospels, with the power, wealth, and lax morals of the clergy, both secular and regular. The rural structure of the medieval church prevented it from quickly addressing these largely urban issues.   Itinerant preachers began taking it on themselves to wander from city to city, after the manner of apostles, to preach the word of God. Several groups, including the Waldenses and Humiliati, adopted the ideal of poverty and itinerant preaching. The best-known Mendicant orders (from the Latin verb, mendicare, to beg), the Franciscans and the Dominicans, arose out of this movement.   3. The Franciscans Manuscript leaf with scenes from the Life of St. Francis of Assisi, unknown artist, ca. 1320-42. Source: Wikimedia Commons   The original ideals of the Franciscan order were the work of one man—St. Francis of Assisi. He sought a completely literal imitation of the life of Christ. As Christ owned nothing, was essentially homeless, and wandered about preaching the word of God, so would the followers of Francis. This meant that they could own absolutely nothing—not their clothes, the food they ate, the beds they slept in, and definitely not money. They were even required to travel barefoot. They either worked or begged for food, clothes, and lodging.   The Church at this time frowned upon laymen preaching, so Francis took his followers to Rome and in 1209 sufficiently impressed Pope Innocent III with his plan that it received papal sanction. As the number of Francis’s followers grew it was decided in 1217 to start sending groups into cities beyond the Alps (they had only been active in Italy thus far). In 1223 the official Franciscan Rule, called the Regula Bullata, was sanctioned by Pope Honorius III.   Saint Francis, by Sano di Pietro (Ansano di Pietro di Mencio), 1450s. Source: MET, New York   As the number of Franciscans grew and spread throughout Europe, they began to encounter some of the difficulties that their unusual structure produced. Francis’s stricture of absolute poverty precluded many of the activities that such a large and widespread order required, such as books to educate new members or churches in which to perform the sacraments.   In response to this Pope Gregory IX allowed the order to appoint a nuntius, essentially a non-member who could hold and administer property and money for them. Thus, contrary to Francis’s wishes, the order began to accumulate property.   Another problem was that the majority of Franciscans were lay, or unordained, brothers and as such could not perform the sacraments. These problems and a growing rift within the order between those who held to Francis’s original teachings of absolute poverty and those who approved of adjustments to the rules to fit a new reality caused the order to weaken internally, increasingly coming under the influence of the much-better organized Dominicans.   4. The Dominicans St. Dominic in Prayer, by El Greco, ca. 1586-1590. Source: Wikimedia Commons   Although the Dominican and Franciscan monastic orders arose around the same time, their origins were rather different. St. Dominic was an Augustinian monk, living under the Rule of St. Augustine—a much shorter and more simplistic rule than that of St. Benedict, and one which predated it by over a century. In the first years of the 13th century, he lent aid to a group of Cistercian monks who were having little success combating the Cathar, or Albigensian, heresy in southern France. He suggested that the only way to approach the problem of the Cathars was in the apostolic manner, as itinerant preachers, since this was something more akin to the Cathar way. Thus, the group abandoned everything but their clothes and set out on a preaching tour into Cathar country.   The Dominican order grew out of this episode. It is worth noting that the Dominicans had a lengthy involvement with the Cathars, being charged by Pope Gregory IX in 1231 with the operation of the Inquisition (not to be confused with the later Spanish Inquisition), whose aim was to root out Catharism, leading to many episodes of horrific violence, and earning the inquisitors the nickname Domini Canes, or hounds of the lord in Latin—a play on the Dominican name.   Saint Thomas Aquinas Aided by Saints Peter and Paul, by Bartolomeo degli Erri. Source: The MET, New York   Although the Dominicans were a mendicant order much like the Franciscans, owning no property and preaching itinerantly in cities, their organization was much different, and they retained some of the more traditional monastic aspects. Dominic took as the order’s rule the existing Rule of St. Augustine, with its typical monastic regime which the brothers observed among themselves. When not engaged in these activities the Dominicans attended to their preaching mission.   Dominic also targeted the big university cities, such as Paris and Bologna, for establishing chapters, as he sought the best and brightest minds of the time. The order also had a well-organized system of territorial provinces, with meetings of provincial chapters as well as an annual general chapter.   The organized and highly educated Dominicans came to powerfully influence the less-organized Franciscans, who could boast far fewer university-educated brothers. Over time the Dominicans came to include such influential figures as St. Thomas Aquinas among their ranks. Their order retained a dominant influence throughout the rest of the Middle Ages.   The End of Reform? Manuscript Illumination with Singing Monks in an Initial D, from a Psalter, 1501-2. Source: The MET, New York   The four reforming monastic orders discussed here are not the only ones. There were several before these, others contemporaneous with them, and some that came after. And religious reform was not unique to the monastic world. In the 11th century the Gregorian reform movement, named after Pope Gregory VII, was a powerful force in both the religious and secular realms. Likewise in the Late Middle Ages and the Renaissance the humanist tradition was a powerful force for church reform, perhaps best represented by Erasmus of Rotterdam. Indeed, what became the Protestant Reformation was not initially intended to split the Catholic church but rather to reform it, as the name suggests. Then, the Counter-Reformation was a church reform movement launched as a response to the Protestant Reformation. One could argue that church reform has never ended and that the more tolerant stance of the church under Pope Francis is yet another attempt at reform.

  During the Middle Ages, devout Christians venerated holy people known as saints. As everyday Christians made it through the struggles of life, they found comfort by identifying with saints, some of whom had extremely strange and unusual stories, or vitae. As strange as some of them were, however, they attracted veneration due to the faith they had exhibited during their often unconventional lives. Yet even the most unusual vitae reveal something about the culture or beliefs of the time.   Who Are the Saints? An Ethiopian diptych depicting Mary and the infant Jesus on the left while archangels, apostles, and a saint on horseback look on, 15th century. Source: The Walters Art Museum   Put simply, saints are human beings who have enjoyed a profound closeness to the divine. Several world religions have a concept of such people. Saints of the Roman Catholic Church, the subject of this article, are those who, before their death, exhibited extraordinary devotion to God, performed service to others, and whose actions are worthy of imitation. Catholics believe that saints receive as a reward for their piety in life a guarantee of God’s company after death—in other words, they are in heaven.   The Forerunners of Christ with Saints and Martyrs, by Fra Angelico, 15th-century. Source: Wikimedia Commons   The process of elevating a dead person to sainthood has changed dramatically, going from saints being declared by a local community in the early centuries of the Christian church to a long and complicated process today. Historically, vitae were important to the process of gaining sainthood. The vitae, or stories of saints’ lives, were written by hagiographers (literally, “writers of the saints”). In the words of Donald Weinstein and Rudolph M. Bell, “hagiographers wrote to inspire their readers, to honor their saint, and to make a case for canonization by demonstrating that the venerable person was a member of the supernatural community of saints.” What hagiographers were not, was historians. This tension—between the story and its potential truthfulness—has flummoxed scholars of hagiography who have debated exactly how saints’ lives ought to be approached.   St. Ulric, with his trademark fish, was canonized by Pope John XV in 993, by Leonhard Beck, 15th century. Source: Wikimedia Commons   The saints included in this list represent a very small sample of the kinds of people whose actions inspired others to lead more pious lives, whether that meant one of contemplation, charity, or preaching. The actions of the saints in this article are sometimes extreme to the point that they are difficult to believe, but it is important to remember that their popularity among Christians was due to something very human and relatable. When discussing the rise in popularity of patron saints, historian Peter Brown argues in his book The Cult of Saints: Its Rise and Function in Latin Christianity, that living people were able to create a parasocial relationship with a dead saint, allowing for identification, and even a sense of friendship.   1. St. Christopher (3rd Century) St. Christopher carries baby Jesus across a river in this book of hours, late-15th/early-16th. Source: Cleveland Art Museum   Feast day: July 25 in the Roman calendar and October 7 in Sweden.   Patron saint of travelers, athletes, bachelors, surfers, gardeners, and those with toothache.   St. Christopher himself is less interesting than the iconography that followed him. While the Roman Catholic Church removed his feast day from the liturgical calendar in 1969 (see Wilgefortis, below), St. Christopher is still well-known as a patron of safe travels and protector of dashboards the world over.   Christopher is sometimes referred to as one of the military saints. The vita states he was a Canaanite and Roman soldier who converted to Christianity and was later martyred in Asia Minor by the emperor Decius (d. 251). Before converting, Christopher expressed a desire to serve the strongest king in the world and went on a quest to find him. Eventually, he met a Christian hermit who told him to serve Christ by carrying travelers across a river. Once, he carried a small child across but discovered partway across the river that the child became almost unbearably heavy. He managed to reach the other shore where the child identified himself as Christ and informed Christopher that he had carried the weight of the whole world in carrying Christ, who bears the world’s sins. Christopher’s name—“Christ-bearer” in Greek—reflects this story.   In Western Europe, Christopher was often depicted as a giant carrying a baby Christ on his shoulder. In Eastern Europe, and in what would become the Eastern Orthodox Church, Christopher is often portrayed with a dog’s head, making him a member of one of the legendary monstrous races of the world, the cynocephali.   A Greek icon depicts St. Christopher as a cynocephalus, or dog-head, 17th century. Source: The Byzantine Museum   Exactly how St. Christopher acquired the dog head is a matter of debate. In his classic, The Monstrous Races in Medieval Art and Thought, John Block Friedman argues that the story of St. Christopher is a reworking of an apocryphal story of the apostles, Contendings of the Apostles, which includes an episode where Andrew and Bartholomew convert a giant with the “face of a great dog.” Another theory posits that confusion or miscopying of Christopher’s identity as a Canaanite (cananeus in Latin) with the Latin word for canine (canineus) is responsible for the appearance of the dog’s head.   2. St. Simeon Stylites (380-459) St. Simeon Stylites, standing on his pillar, cures a group of people. From left, a demon flies from a man’s mouth; a man with a crutch gestures; a woman holds up her baby; and a priest looks upward. Source: The Wellcome Collection   Feast day: January 5 in the Western calendar and September 1 in the Eastern calendar.   Patron of those fasting, those living in isolation, and those living with a social disorder.   Sometimes referred to as Simeon Stylites the Elder, Simeon is known for living for some 37 years at the top of a pillar in the Syrian desert. The son of a shepherd, Simeon discovered as a boy that he wanted to live a life of religious solitude, eventually having a 36-cubit (a somewhat unbelievable 63 feet) pillar built near the main route between Antioch and Aleppo that he lived on for nearly 40 years.   In an ancient example of the Streisand Effect, however, the more Simeon tried to make himself inaccessible to other people, the more sought-after he became. In the Ecclesiastical History, the earliest account of Simeon’s life and written while he was still living, Theodoret of Cyrrhus contends that people visited him from Western Europe, Persia, and Armenia. Simeon performed miracles from the pillar, healing people who were sick or disabled.   Ex-voto as a plaque of Simeon Stylites, from the treasury of the church of Ma’aret in Noman in Syria, end of 6th century. Source: Wikimedia Commons   Like other desert hermits, Simeon exposed himself to the elements by keeping the pillar open to the outside; he also put his body through physical tests, such as standing “for a long time, and now bending down repeatedly and offering worship to God,” according to Theodoret. He eventually developed “a malignant ulcer” on his left foot, with “a great deal of pus ooz[ing] from it continually.”   In another version of his life written after Theodoret’s, Simeon develops a wound on his thigh that becomes infested with worms. Instead of trying to clean the wound, he puts the worms that fall out back in. His position—literally—above others and his willingness to suffer made him a holy man sought out for his wisdom and his ability to perform miracles.   Simeon’s example was a powerful one: other stylites, or pillar-dwellers, were known until the 19th century.   3. St. Mary of Egypt (Before the 6th Century) The monk Zosimas gives St. Mary of Egypt, covered in hair, a cloak, 15th-century French miniature. Source: British Library   Feast day: April 1 in the Eastern Orthodox and Roman Catholic calendars and Parmouti 6 in the Coptic calendar.   Patron of those struggling to remain chaste and those who need deliverance from demons, fevers, and skin diseases.   According to the accounts of her life, from the age of twelve to 29, Mary lived in Alexandria and led a life of sexual promiscuity. After traveling with a group of men to Jerusalem, Mary repented of her sinful life and escaped to the Judean desert, where she lived alone for another 47 years. In one dramatic recounting of her life, a monk named Zosimas meets Mary wandering in the desert, “a naked figure whose body was black, as if tanned by the scorching of the sun. It had on its head hair white as wool.”   The earliest known version of Mary’s vita is a brief mention in the vita of another saint, dating to the 6th century. The version quoted from here dates from the 7th century and is attributed to Sophronius, although that authorship is debated by scholars. Mary’s story was translated into nearly a dozen languages during the Middle Ages, speaking to its popularity.   St. Mary of Egypt from a French calendar of the saints, 17th century, this calendar indicates her feast day is April 2. Source: Harvard Art Museums   Scholars also debate whether Mary was a real person. If she was, she likely lived in the late 4th century, argues Sonia Velázquez in her book Promiscuous Grace: Imagining Beauty and Holiness with St. Mary of Egypt. Because she first appears in a saint’s vita in the 6th century, we know she did not live later than that. Some of the challenges of dating Mary’s life come from the lack of specific events and people named in her vita. However, female desert hermits did exist.   Many scholars have pointed out that Mary’s gender is unclear, or that she is deliberately made androgynous by her hagiographers. In the vita quoted here, Zosimas goes to the desert hoping to meet a male desert hermit, and he is unable to tell that Mary is a woman until she reveals her gender.   4. Christina the Astonishing (1150-1224) A calendar of saints featuring Christina the Astonishing shows her levitating above the altar during her funeral, 1630. Source: Wikimedia Commons   Feast day: July 24.   Patron of people with mental illness and mental health workers.   While not formally canonized by the Catholic Church, Christina the Astonishing has been venerated as a saint since the 13th century. James of Vitry mentioned Christina in his vita of another holy woman, and James’s acolyte Thomas of Cantimpré wrote a fully fleshed-out vita after her death.   In Thomas’s story of her life, Christina is devout but dies young. While dead, her soul travels to Purgatory, where Christina sees people suffering horrible punishments. She is then taken to Heaven, where God gives her a choice: stay in Heaven for eternity or go back to Earth and enact penance on behalf of other people, thus shortening their stay in Purgatory and getting them to Heaven faster. She chooses to return to Earth and comes back to life, telling her family and friends of this strange experience.   An illustration of Purgatory from Legenda Aurea, 15th century, Universitätsbibliothek Heidelberg, Cod. Pal. Germ. 144, 338r. Source: Wikimedia Commons   Thus begins Christina’s bizarre ministry. She throws herself into burning ovens, into cauldrons of boiling water, and into icy rivers during winter. She twists her body into impossible contortions, eats very little, and runs through brambles until her skin is shredded. Through all this, she expresses pain by screaming “like a woman in childbirth.” Despite the intense pain she feels, Christina’s body is never marked by injury. Twice her two sisters attempt to capture her and keep her home, but she escapes both times with the assistance of God. Christina eventually mellows, settling into a life of prophecy and, later, contemplation alongside another nun. She dies two more times; the last time finally took her.   Christina’s sainthood, while unofficial, has a long history. Thomas records that soon after her death, her tomb became a destination for pilgrims, which was common for people who had acquired sainthood. She is featured in liturgical calendars, including this one from 1630, by Andreas Brunner, suggesting some institutional approval of her sainthood. Her following is robust online, perhaps due to the strangeness of her story. And just as modern people may scratch their heads when reading her vita, medieval people who knew her did too. She was suspected of being possessed by demons, a charge Thomas refutes.   5. St. Guinefort (13th Century) A French medallion depicting a dog attacking a boar, 13th century. Source: Metropolitan Museum of Art   Feast day: August 22.   Patron saint of infants.   Our source for a cult of St. Guinefort is a French inquisitor named Stephen of Bourbon (d. 1261). He reports in his Treatise on Various Materials for Teaching that while preaching in the diocese of Lyon, he heard the confessions of many women who told him of a cult that had developed around a loyal greyhound mistakenly killed by his master. Women reported that they took their sick children to the dog’s grave to be healed. Nearby, an old woman informed the women of an elaborate method for curing their “sickly” children that involved leaving them by themselves in the forest so the fauns, or spirits of the forest, would swap the sickly baby for a healthy one, a baby that had been theirs all along. Horrified by this practice, Stephen orders the body of the dog dug up and burned, and preaches against the practice.   There’s a lot going on here.   Contemporary artwork of St. Guinefort, by L. Bower. Source: Wikimedia Commons   First, the story of Guinefort is the exact story of the snake and the mongoose, an ancient Hindu story. The story, which has even found its way to Facebook in the 21st century, goes like this: A man has a loyal dog (in the French version) or a mongoose (in the Indian version) with whom he leaves his baby. While the man is away, a snake enters the baby’s room and slithers into the cradle. The loyal dog/mongoose kills the serpent, spreading blood all over the room. When the man returns, he sees the blood on the dog/mongoose and assumes the dog/mongoose has killed his baby. In his anger, the man kills his pet and then realizes the baby is still in the cradle, safe and sound, with the dead snake nearby. The lesson of the story is to gather all the information before making a decision.   The story of the mongoose and the snake, lower panel, depicted on a column in the Virupaksha temple, dating from the 8th century C, located in the Karnataka region of southwestern India. Source: Wikimedia Commons   The mongoose story, studied extensively by folklorists, seems to have originated in the Pañcatantra, an Indian story collection dating to the 3rd century CE. According to David Gordon White in his book Daemons are Forever: Contacts and Exchanges in the Eurasian Pandemonium, the story was translated into Pahlavi in the 6th century, then into Arabic, Hebrew, Greek, Latin, and finally French as it moved westward. The transmission of this story from India to Europe demonstrates the transregional connections that existed in the pre-modern world.   The second part of the story describing the practice of curing sick babies provides evidence of belief in changelings—doppelganger babies that fairies switch out for a hapless woman’s real baby. The changeling is weak, small, and sickly. The “real” baby is brought to the fairy world. It is up to the mother to try to regain her missing child. Changeling stories are attested throughout western continental Europe during the Middle Ages. “Based on the sources examined so far,” writes Rose A. Sawyer in her book The Medieval Changeling: Health, Childcare, and the Family Unit, “it appears that the child substitution motif has been part of the discourse surrounding chronically sick, impaired, or non-normatively developing children since the turn of the first millennium.” Guinefort’s status as a patron of infants is thus well-earned.   6. St. Brigitte of Sweden (1303-1373) St. Brigitte, bottom right, receiving inspiration from the Virgin Mary, top center. This image can be found in a manuscript that includes St. Brigitte’s revelations, 15th century. Source: Wikimedia Commons   Feast day: July 23.   Patron of Sweden, Europe, and widows.   Brigitte lived two lives: the first as a wife and mother of eight, and the second as a mystic, founder of the religious order of Bridgettines, and sometimes unwelcome advisor to popes. Brigitte experienced religious visions from an early age, but because she lived during a time when the Church was increasingly concerned with the possibility of demonic visions masquerading as divine ones, those visions came under scrutiny.   A complex process called the discernment of spirits developed to provide a sort of rubric to judge the source of these divine visions, which were all the more suspect because they by and large were experienced by women, according to Nancy Caciola in her book Discerning Spirits: Divine and Demonic Possession in the Middle Ages. Both Brigitte and her younger contemporary, Catherine of Siena, experienced such visions, and both entered into Church politics when they said these visions advised that the Avignon Papacy must come to an end.   St. Brigitte in the Les Images De Tous Les Saincts et Saintes de L’Année, 1636. Source: Wikimedia Commons   Beginning in 1309, the pope resided in Avignon, a French territory that belonged to the papacy. Many criticized this move, including Brigitte, who traveled to Avignon with her daughter, who would become St. Catherine of Sweden, to try to convince the pope to return to Rome. The papacy eventually returned to Rome in 1377, four years after Brigitte’s death, a move that led to the Papal Schism.   According to Caciola, Brigitte’s and Catherine’s intervention in Church politics angered some, and the Papal Schism that followed the end of the Avignon Papacy added fuel to the fire that women should stay out of politics, even if they were receiving religious visions. Caciola writes, “So very divisive was her cause, Brigitte was canonized no less than three different times, in 1391, 1415, and 1419, by three separate pontiffs.”   7. St. Wilgefortis (14th Century) A Spanish etching of St. Wilgefortis, here called Liberata, being crucified, as with other depictions, here she sports facial hair. Source: The Wellcome Collection   Feast day: July 20.   Patron of those seeking relief from tribulations, especially women trying to leave abusive husbands.   St. Wilgefortis came to prominence in the 14th century, although her exact origin is unclear. She almost certainly did not exist, yet her story and image proliferated throughout Europe for centuries. Wilgefortis, according to the folk legend, was a devout young woman whose father wanted her to marry a non-Christian man. Thoroughly opposed to such a marriage, Wilgefortis prays to be made unattractive. Her prayer is answered, and she grows a long beard. Her father is so angry at her actions that he has her crucified. Images of a bearded woman or an androgynous figure on a cross are attested throughout Central Europe.   While her cult seems to have been popular during the Late Medieval and Early Modern periods, Wilgefortis was one of 200 saints whose feast days were removed from the Catholic Church’s liturgical calendar in 1969, under Pope Paul VI. According to the New York Times’ contemporary reporting of the event, some saints’ feast days were removed due to doubt they had ever existed historically. Along with Wilgefortis, St. Christopher, discussed above, also fell victim to the Church’s saint cull.   A statue of St. Wilgefortis, date unknown, in St. Nicholas Church of Wissant, Pas-de-Calais, France, while the bearded figure resembles Christ, the gown and breasts suggest a feminine figure. Source: Wikimedia Commons   According to Ilse E. Friesen in her book The Female Crucifix: Images of St. Wilgefortis Since the Middle Ages, Wilgefortis initially found popularity among women who were the victims of sexual abuse and forced marriages or who experienced gynecological illness such as cancer of the uterus or pregnancy complications. Women in these situations, Friesen argues, have been common throughout history but their trauma is often overlooked. Wilgefortis became a figure around whom such women could congregate.   More recently, Wilgefortis—whose name may come from “Virgo fortis,” or “strong virgin” in Latin, or perhaps “Hilge Vartz,” or “holy face” in German—has been embraced by LGBTQ+ Christians, who see in her a gender nonconforming person. Robert Mills disagrees with this characterization, because Wilgefortis is a “representation, first and foremost.” Her “transition” includes only her growing a beard, which she did not explicitly pray for—her prayer was only to be made unattractive to her potential husband, Mills argues. Be that as it may, Wilgefortis’s story offers food for thought about visual art, women’s roles, and modern interpretations of medieval stories.

  With Greece and the Balkans secure, Alexander the Great led his army across the Hellespont into Asia Minor. A revolt in Egypt had drawn away the new Achaemenid king, Darius III, and his army. However, the local Achaemenid satraps were not about to let Alexander do as he pleased. The satraps of Asia Minor had plenty of experience fighting Greeks and had driven back an earlier Macedonian expedition launched by Alexander’s father, Philip II. Now, the satraps marched to confront Alexander on the banks of the Granicus River in 334 BCE.   Alexander’s Grand Entrance: The Stage Is Set for War Bust of Philip II, Roman after a Greek original. Source: Wikimedia Commons.   Having secured control of the Greek city-states, in 336 BCE Philip II of Macedon dispatched an advance guard across the Hellespont into Asia Minor. This force was led by Parmenion, Philip’s best general, and was tasked with establishing a base of operations so that the rest of the army could cross over later. Most of the Greek cities of Asia Minor went over to the Macedonians. At the same time, a massive revolt broke out in Egypt. The situation soon turned against the Macedonians when word arrived that Philip had been murdered.   Philip’s son, Alexander, rose to take control of the Macedonian throne. However, the Greek city-states and Thracian tribes to the north revolted, threatening Alexander’s power. This meant that for the time being, the Macedonian expeditionary force in Asia Minor was on its own. Darius III suppressed the Egyptian revolt in 335 BCE and dispatched an army of Greek mercenaries led by Memnon of Rhodes to deal with the Macedonians. In short order, they dealt the Macedonians two defeats. By the end of 335 BCE, the Macedonians retained control of only a small area. However, they had held on, and in early 334 BCE, Alexander was able to cross over the Hellespont with the main Macedonian army.   Clash of Empires: Alexander’s Army vs. Persia’s Forces Left: Votive plaque depicting an Achaemenid soldier, Achaemenid, 550-331 BCE. Source: Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Right: Fresco depicting a Macedonian soldier, Greek or Macedonian, 4th Century BCE. Source: Wikimedia Commons.   Alexander led an army primarily of infantry. The core of this force consisted of 12,000 heavy infantry armed with pikes, a smaller elite unit known as the hypaspists, and the Foot Companions. They were accompanied by around 1,000 archers and the elite Agrianian javelin-men. For cavalry, Alexander had his elite 1,800 Companion cavalry, along with another 1,800 Thessalian cavalrymen, and 600 Greek allies. There were also around 900 light cavalrymen, which included the allied Paeonians and Thracians as well as the prodromoi, or scouts, a regular Macedonian unit of uncertain ethnicity. All told, the Macedonian army consisted of 12,000 pikemen, 1,000 light infantry, and 5,100 cavalry for a total of 18,100 men.   Opposing the Macedonians were the forces of the Achaemenid satraps of Asia Minor. Information about the size and composition of the Achaemenid army is inconsistent or unavailable. The army was primarily drawn from the troops available to the satraps, along with some soldiers of the regular Achaemenid army, and a large contingent of Greek mercenaries. Estimates place the Achaemenid infantry at about 20,000, with 4,000–5,000 of these being the Greek mercenaries and the rest local levies. The Achaemenid cavalry was of higher quality than the infantry and is estimated at around 5,000–10,000. Most modern historians, therefore, have the Achaemenid army at 25,000 to 30,000, though some estimates have been much lower.   A Fateful Standoff: Deploying for Battle at the Granicus Left: Terracotta statuette of a horseman in Persian dress, Cypriot, 3rd Century BCE. Source: Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Right: Terracotta statuette of a Greek horse and rider, Hellenistic, 3rd Century BCE. Source: Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.   There are three main accounts of the battle of the Granicus that have come down to us from antiquity by the historians Arrian, Plutarch, and Diodorus Siculus. The major point of contention is whether the battle was fought after Alexander’s army crossed the river and deployed on the other side, as in Diodorus’ account, or if the armies deployed and fought with the river between them, as with Arrian and Plutarch’s accounts. Both versions have the commanders making inexplicable decisions in their deployments and subsequent actions. Therefore, we will follow the accounts of Arrian and Plutarch, suggesting that the Achaemenids may not have intended to fight a battle at that juncture. Their questionable deployment may have been intended as a show of force, assuming Alexander would not attempt a contested river crossing.   As the armies approached, they deployed on opposite banks of the Granicus River. The Achaemenids deployed with their cavalry atop the steep bank of the river, likely to intimidate the Macedonians. While some of the infantry may have been present, the majority, including the elite Greek mercenaries, were deployed behind the cavalry—apparently too far back to adequately support the Achaemenid cavalry. On the other side of the river, Alexander deployed with his Companion cavalry, Paeonian cavalry, and prodromoi on his right, along with the archers and Agrianians. His left consisted of the Thracian cavalry, as well as the allied Greek cavalry and Thessalian cavalry. The center was made up of the pike-wielding Foot Companions of the phalanx, with the elite hypaspists in the place of honor on the right.   Persia’s Unheeded Warning: The Genius of Memnon of Rhodes Nereid Monument frieze depicting an important personage in Persian dress, Greek, 390-380 BCE. Source: British Museum   The commander of the Achaemenid forces at the Granicus was the satrap Arsites, who shared command with several other satraps and members of Darius III’s family. However, the most influential figure in the Achaemenid army at the time of the battle was the Greek mercenary commander Memnon of Rhodes. Memnon (ca. 380–333 BCE) entered the service of the satrap of Phrygia in 358 BCE and participated in a failed revolt against the Persian king. Following the revolt, Memnon fled to Pella, the capital of Macedonia. There, Memnon became acquainted with both Philip II of Macedon and his son, Alexander. According to Plutarch, Memnon and Alexander had lengthy discussions of military matters. Both came away with an understanding of the other side’s military capabilities, political strengths, and weaknesses.   In 343 BCE, Memnon was able to reenter Achaemenid service and soon found himself facing off against Philip and the Macedonians. At Byzantium in 339 BCE, Memnon helped to defend the city from Philip’s assaults before being recalled to deal with the Macedonian expedition of Parmenion in Asia Minor. With the arrival of Alexander and the Macedonian army, Memnon advocated a scorched earth policy. He knew that the Greeks were unhappy with Macedonian rule and that Alexander’s army would have difficulty maintaining its supplies.   However, Memnon’s counsel was overruled by the satraps, who did not want to damage their lands. At Granicus, Memnon appears to have been with the cavalry rather than his Greek mercenaries. While this may have been because the satraps distrusted him, a more likely explanation is that Memnon intended a show of force to intimidate the Macedonians and had not expected to fight at this point.   Alexander’s Daring Gamble: The River Assault Begins Map of the battle of Granicus (phase 1). Source: TheCollector   The battle began with Alexander launching a cavalry attack across the river at the Achaemenid left flank. The attack consisted of a squadron of the Companion cavalry, the Paeonian cavalry, and prodromoi, along with an unspecified unit of infantry. From their position atop the riverbank, the Achaemenid cavalry rained missile fire down on the attacking Macedonians, blunting their attack. Outnumbered and suffering casualties, the Macedonians pulled back. Sensing an opportunity, the Achaemenid cavalry left the height of the riverbank to pursue the Macedonians into the river.   Modern historians have argued that the Macedonian retreat was a ruse. It was intended to lure the Achaemenid cavalry down from their position on the riverbank and disrupt their formation. Whether intentional or not, the Achaemenid cavalry was now vulnerable. Alexander launched an attack with the rest of his Companion cavalry and the entire right wing of the infantry phalanx. With the Achaemenid cavalry formation disrupted, Alexander was able to lead his own cavalry across the river and ascend the riverbank. Such an attack would have required skillful maneuvering on Alexander’s part, as his cavalrymen would have been vulnerable until they deployed on the opposite side of the river. This has led to a great deal of debate amongst modern scholars. Having reached the opposite side of the river, Alexander charged directly at the massed Achaemenid cavalry.   Clash of Champions: Alexander’s Personal Battles at Granicus Map of the battle of Granicus (phase 2). Source: TheCollector   Having crossed the river, the Macedonian cavalry, led by Alexander, closed in on their Achaemenid opponents. The Macedonians now held the advantage. Their longer lances were far more deadly at close range than the shorter Achaemenid javelins. It has also been suggested that Alexander’s cavalry may have charged the Achaemenids in a wedge or diamond formation. This would have enabled them to penetrate deep into the Achaemenid formation, disrupting it. Alexander, as was his usual practice, was leading his cavalry from the front, actively participating in the battle and exposing himself to danger.   Cavalry battles were fluid, swirling affairs, as it was imperative for riders to remain mobile since standing still negates all the advantages of the cavalryman. According to Arrian and Plutarch, Alexander engaged in a series of duels in the finest Homeric tradition. During the fighting, Alexander came face-to-face with Mithradates, Darius III’s son-in-law and one of the Achaemenid cavalry commanders. Charging straight for him, Alexander killed Mithradates by thrusting his lance into his face. This exposed Alexander to an attack from the Achaemenid noble Rhosaces, who swung his sword at Alexander’s head. Battle of the Granicus by Charles Le Brun, 1665. Source: Wikimedia Commons. Rhosaces’ blow connected, though his helmet saved him. Alexander killed Rhosaces with a thrust of his lance into the chest, but was then attacked by Spithridates, the satrap of Ionia and Lydia. Before Spithridates could strike Alexander from behind, he was killed by the Macedonian commander Cleitus the Black. By now, the Macedonian cavalry had established itself on the riverbank and was driving the Achaemenids back.   The Mercenaries’ Last Stand and Alexander’s Brutal Victory Map of the battle of Granicus (phase 3). Source: TheCollector   The left flank of the Achaemenid cavalry broke and fled, with the center following shortly thereafter. According to the sources, there appears to have been some fighting between the Achaemenid and Macedonian infantry. However, exactly which units were involved and the extent of the fighting were not recorded. With the flight of the Achaemenid cavalry and whatever other infantry may have been engaged, Alexander turned his attention to the Greek mercenaries serving under Memnon. Up to this point, they had taken no part in the battle despite being the best infantry the Achaemenids had. Unfortunately, they were deployed too far back from the cavalry to provide support. Additionally, their commander, Memnon, was forward with the cavalry when the battle began and was unable to issue orders.   The Greek mercenaries still represented a dangerous force, so Alexander directed his attacks towards them. With the rest of the Achaemenid army in flight, the mercenaries retreated to a more defensible position on a rise. They then attempted to negotiate their surrender with Alexander, who refused. The Macedonian Foot Companions attacked the mercenaries from the front, while the cavalry circled to attack from the flanks and the rear. The Greek mercenaries fought back bitterly. Eventually, they were defeated, and few managed to escape the battlefield. Most of the Macedonian casualties occurred during the fight with the mercenaries.   Granicus’s Legacy: A Gate Opened for Alexander the Great’s Empire Shield with a head of Dioskouros and a helmeted Athena figure, Hellenistic, 4th-3rd Century BCE. Source: The Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.   Determining casualties in ancient battles is notoriously difficult. Based on the source material, it is estimated that between 100–120 Macedonians were killed, mostly among the cavalry. Achaemenid casualties are even more difficult to estimate, but modern historians place them around 5,000–6,000. Additionally, around 2,000 Greek mercenaries were captured. Alexander viewed them as having betrayed their fellow Greeks, so they were sent to Macedon to work as slaves. He also sent a votive offering of 300 suits of armor to the temple of Athena in Athens.   Alexander at the Granicus by Peter Connoly. Source: Warfare History Network.   Following the battle, the Achaemenids withdrew their garrisons from several cities across the region, which went over to Alexander. The Macedonians now occupied Dascylium, Magnesia, Tralles, Ephesus, and most importantly, Sardis. Only Miletus resisted and was besieged. The western half of Asia Minor had effectively fallen. However, the Achaemenid army had not suffered disastrous losses and was able to regroup at Halicarnassus. Resistance was still possible as the Achaemenids had unimaginable resources at their disposal. Yet the strategic situation was precarious. Alexander’s Macedonians had established a base of operations and could march inland at any moment. The stage had been set for the conquest of the Achaemenid Empire.