The former Sinibaldo Fieschi, Innocent IV despised Frederick II and Robert Grosseteste in equal measure. He is remembered for introducing the red hat for cardinals to wear and torture for all prelates to use in their Inquisitions. He was on his deathbed when word reached him about Manfred’s victory over his army. Looking at those surrounding him – relatives and church officers, freeloaders the lot of them – he snapped, “What are you crying for? Haven’t I made you all rich?”
On 31 July a fatherless boy named Hugh disappeared in the city of Lincoln. Told he was last seen playing with some Jewish boys, his mother insisted he had been kidnapped and crucified as part of a macabre ritual mocking Christianity. While such stories were widespread at that time, the authorities never gave them much credence. Even the papacy had come forward to denounce them. As the bishop of Lincoln, Robert Grosseteste had never been a friend of the Jews, but he was equally intolerant of injustice and superstition. He was in his grave now, where miracles were supposedly being worked, and the new bishop of Lincoln, Henry of Lexington, saw an opportunity when the boy was found, a month later, supposedly in a well owned by a Jewish man named Jopin. The canons of the cathedral had the body whisked away for burial next to the exalted Grosseteste, thereby doubling the recent fame of the diocese. Meanwhile the mother had taken her case to the king, who was in the north attending to reports that his daughter Margaret, the teenage queen of Scotland, was being mistreated by her handlers. Upon hearing the appeal of the mother, Henry decided that if the accusation was true, the Jews deserved to die. If not, she did. Unbowed, she begged him to come to Lincoln and see for himself.
It had been Henry’s intention to come to Gascony and show that it could be ruled with peace and understanding. When he arrived in 1253, he found he had a war on his hands and that some of his subjects, again led by the queen’s relations, had switched their allegiance to the king of neighboring Castile. He not only had to resort to the same harsh tactics employed by de Montfort but even asked his brother-in-law to come and lend his military expertise. Simon grudgingly went, motivated by loyalty and his spiritual adviser, Robert Grosseteste, who reminded him not to forget all the benefits he had received from Henry. The king’s treachery was not forgotten, however, and de Montfort made him pay dearly in compensation. In the end, Henry’s campaign proved to be his only successful adventure abroad. He won over the Gascons to his son’s overlordship and got Alfonso, the king of Castile, to give up rival claims to the region by having Edward marry his half-sister, the third Eleanor in this story.
It was into this atmosphere of ill-will and hostility that Simon strode on another cold January day two years later at Henry’s behest. The king led Montfort into his private chapel and the arms of his sister Eleanor, who had evidently fallen in love with the handsome, dynamic nobleman despite her vow of chastity. Simon had been prepared to marry an older widow to advance his fortunes, now the king was offering him the chance to become his brother-in-law, and Eleanor a normal family life. Naturally it was all done in secret because of the indignation that was sure to follow. As expected, the magnates were furious that Henry had married his sister a second time around to a commoner, again without bothering to consult them. Even Richard had been left in the dark, but was quickly placated with a substantial subsidy for the crusade he was about to embark on. Other magnates like Roger Bigod, another future reformer who had already clashed with Simon over the claim to the honorary title of Steward, were left to growl about this alien upstart. Convincing the church was an altogether more delicate problem. Eleanor had freely given herself to Christ; redeeming her vow would not come cheaply. With money from Henry and a tenant who claimed Montfort had applied extortion (earning him a stern rebuke from Grosseteste), Simon stuffed his saddle full of gold and headed off to Rome to seek approval.
The expedition was a total failure. Young Henry looked splendid in his armor until dysentery took hold of him and forced him to sail back. Simon was not able to demonstrate any military prowess but did make the overtures necessary to regain his father’s former title and estates. And so, with Henry’s blessing, Montfort was on his way to becoming the Earl of Leicester. One of his first acts was to expel the Jewish population from his newly acquired domains. While insisting he was doing it for the good of his soul, Montfort was also coming under the influence of Robert Grosseteste, a leading scholar who applauded the move in both biblical and economic terms. The Jews were widely condemned for practicing usury and Montfort was no doubt currying favor among his new tenants by presuming to do something about it. In the end, the handful of Jewish families moved to that part of Leicester held by his great-aunt Margaret. She offered them sanctuary, much to Grosseteste’s dismay, and there they remained until Henry’s son Edward expelled the lot of English Jewry in 1290.