The Aljubarrota Battle and Its Contemporary Heritage - Luis Da Fonseca - 2020 - ARC Humanities Press - 9781641890618 - Anna's Archive

EUROPEAN MEDIEVAL BATTLEFIELDS
Supported by the CARMEN Worldwide Medieval Network, European Medieval Battle

fields is an exciting new, curated series. Each of the monographs will present an overview
of a key European battle in the medieval era. As well as describing the strategy and
outcome of the battle itself, the authors will place the conflict within the wider history
of the European continent. They go on to discuss the relevance of the battle and the
battlesite in contemporary memory and myth-making, and conclude by examining how
this heritage is preserved and conveyed to new generations.
Series Editors
Luís Adão da Fonseca, University of Porto
João Gouveia Monteiro, University of Coimbra
Axel Müller, University of Leeds
Maria Cristina Pimenta, CEPESE Research Centre, University of Porto
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THE ALJUBARROTA
BATTLE AND ITS
CONTEMPORARY
HERITAGE
Edited by
LUÍS ADÃO DA FONSECA,
JOÃO GOUVEIA MONTEIRO,
and MARIA CRISTINA PIMENTA
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CONTENTS
List of Illustrations. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vii
Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ix
Chapter 1. Before Aljubarrota

LUÍS ADÃO DA FONSECA and MARIA CRISTINA PIMENTA. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1
Chapter 2. Fighting a Battle in the Middle Ages

JOÃO GOUVEIA MONTEIRO. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19
Chapter 3. The Decision to Fight at Aljubarrota

Chapter 4. The Decisive Battle

Chapter 5. Casualties and the Aftermath

Chapter 6. Contemporary Memory and Myth-Making

MARIA CRISTINA PIMENTA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 75
Chapter 7. The Legacy for Later Memories

MARIA CRISTINA PIMENTA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 91
Chapter 8. The Battle of Aljubarrota Interpretation Centres

FUNDAÇÃO BATALHA DE ALJUBARROTA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113
Select Bibliography. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 121
Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Figure 1: Chronica do Condestabre de Portugal. Lisbon, 1526.

Title page (fol. 1r) from Biblioteca Nacional, Lisbon.
Digital shelfmark: res–26–a (at http://purl.pt/14402). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 78
Figure 2: Coronica do Condeestabre d’Portugall, 1554. Title page (fol. 1v)

from Biblioteca Nacional, Lisbon. Digital shelfmark: res–28–a
(at http://purl.pt/14403). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 82
Figure 3: O Condestabre de Portugal D. Nuno Alvres, Pereira, by Francisco

Rodrigues Lobo. Lisbon, 1610. Title page (unfol.). Biblioteca Nacional,
Lisbon. Digital shelfmark: res–1657–p (at http://purl.pt/14404). . . . . . . . . 96
Map 1: The Theatre of the Portuguese–Castilian War 1385. From João Gouveia
Monteiro, “The Battle of Aljubarrota (1385): A Reassessment,”
Journal of Medieval Military History 7 (2009): 75–103 at 80. Adapted
from map in Augusto Botelho da Costa Veiga, De Estremoz a Aljubarrota.
Quinze dias de operações militares de Nun’Alvares (31 de Julho a 15 de
Agosto de 1385) (Coimbra: Imprensa da Universidade, 1930). . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20
Map 2: Preparatory Manoeuvres on the Battlefield. From João Gouveia

Monteiro, “The Battle of Aljubarrota (1385): A Reassessment,” Journal
of Medieval Military History 7 (2009): 75–103 at 83. Adapted from
map in Augusto Botelho da Costa Veiga, De Estremoz a Aljubarrota.
Quinze dias de operações militares de Nun’Alvares (31 de Julho a 15
de Agosto de 1385) (Coimbra: Imprensa da Universidade, 1930). . . . . . . . . . . 50
Map 3: Excavations on the Battlefield, showing excavations made by

Afonso do Paço in 1958–1960 and by Helena Catarino in 1999.
From João Gouveia Monteiro, “The Battle of Aljubarrota (1385):
A Reassessment,” Journal of Medieval Military History 7 (2009):
75–103 at 86. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 52
Map 4: The First Phase of the Battle. From João Gouveia Monteiro,
“The Battle of Aljubarrota (1385): A Reassessment,” Journal
of Medieval Military History 7 (2009): 75–103 at 94. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59
Map 5: The Second Phase of the Battle. From João Gouveia Monteiro,
“The Battle of Aljubarrota (1385): A Reassessment,” Journal
of Medieval Military History 7 (2009): 75–103 at 97. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 62
Table 1: Genealogy of Portuguese Kings, Queens, and Offspring, ca. 1350–1450. . . . . 8
viii List of Illustrations
Plate 1: Morte do Conde Andeiro (Death of Count Andeiro), by José de

Sousa Azevedo (1830–1864). Oil on canvas, 965 × 1310 mm.
With permission from the Museu Nacional de Soares dos Reis, Porto. . . . . . . 9
Plate 2: Portrait of King João I of Portugal, anonymous, early fifteenth

century). With permission from the Museu Nacional de
Arte Antiga, Lisbon, Portugal. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15
Plate 3: The New Ditch (Portuguese rear-guard). Photograph by

Maria Antónia Amaral. Used with permission. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 71
Plate 4: King João I of Portugal makes a vow to the Virgin Mary that
if he wins the Battle of Aljubarrota (1385) against Castile,
he will build a monastery on that site in gratitude, by Francisco
da Silva. With permission from the Museu Alberto Sampaio,
Guimarães. Photographer: Arnaldo Soares / Divisão de Docu
mentação Fotográfica – Instituto dos Museus e da Conservação, I.P. . . . . . . . 87
Plate 5: História do Portugal Restaurado, by Luiz de Menezes. Lisbon, 1679.

Title page from Biblioteca Nacional, Lisbon. Digital shelfmark:
hg–1968–a_2 (at http://purl.pt/22311). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101
Plate 6: Cruzada nacional “Nun’Alvares.” Journal cover, Lisbon, 1922. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109
Plate 7: O século. Número extraordinário comemorativo do duplo centenário

da Fundação e Restauração de Portugal. Magazine cover, Lisbon,
1940. Taken from: http://hemerotecadigital.cm-lisboa.pt/
RaridadesBibliograficas/Raridades_OSeculo_Centenario.htm. . . . . . . . . . . . . 110
Plate 8: Main Entrance, The Centre of Interpretation of the Battle

of Aljubarrota. Reproduced with permission of CIBA
(Centre of Interpretation of the Battle of Aljubarrota). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117
Plate 9: Interactive Exhibit on Leading Figures, The Centre of Interpretation

of the Battle of Aljubarrota. Reproduced with permission of CIBA
Plate 10: St. Jorge Chapel. Reproduced with permission of CIBA

Plate 11: Interpretation Centre of the First Position of the Portuguese Army,
Interactive Exhibit. Reproduced with permission of CIBA
Plate 12: General View of the Centre. Reproduced with permission of CIBA
INTRODUCTION
This is the first volume of a new collection devoted to European Medieval Battles. It
includes battles representing different chronologies and geographies, many of them not
yet widely known to the international medieval studies community or to a wider general
public but often highly resonant within particular national or local contexts.
The aim of the series is to make more widely known European battles which may
have had a strong national or regional importance, without them being or becoming a
pan-European event. Battles are intrinsically related to the winning and losing side, and
often the knowledge and importance of a battle stops at the periphery of the winners
and losers, even if it originally had consequences beyond those. Often battles relate to
or help define national identities thereby shaping Europe in the post-medieval world.
English was chosen as language of choice for this series in order to reach out to the larg
est possible audience. All the volumes provide an overview of the political context of the
event, a detailed description of the combat, its reflections in the collective memory of
each nation, the relevance of the battlefield and the battle at the present time, stressing
different experiences visitors are expected to have in order to bring them closer to the
respective historical epoch.
The first volume is dedicated to the Battle of Aljubarrota, fought in central Portugal
on August 14, 1385, between the newly elected King João I of Portugal and the Castilian
monarch, Juan I of Trastâmara. In Portuguese history, this is viewed as the country’s
most celebrated battle, having profound consequences with regard to the ultimate con
figuration of the Iberian political world.
In the first chapter, we begin by embedding the conflict in the context of Iberian
relations during the fourteenth century, integrating it into the macro European conflict
of the Hundred Years’ War. Through a comparative analysis between the European set
ting and its Iberian reflections, particularly in Castile and Portugal, the aim is to lead the
public to a better understanding of a complex process. We will show how the Battle of
Aljubarrota, itself a decisive military and political moment, can be seen as the Iberian
expression of the aforementioned late medieval Anglo-French conflict.
Between chapters two and five, the contents will be exclusively devoted to the
description of the battle, including a presentation of the archaeological remains, and an
analysis of the different material and literary sources. Through a detailed description
of the event (the itinerary of the forces involved, tactics adopted, weapons, etc.) we aim
to prove how this battlefield presents a wonderful example for the study of medieval
military history.
Chapters six and seven will present the way the battle was handled later in both
historiographical and literary terms, particularly the mythical dimension of the event.
From this perspective, Aljubarrota and its heroes turned out to have an exemplary value
whenever the Portuguese felt their own independence threatened. For example, the
battle was remembered in various political and social manifestations during the period
of the Austrian Monarchy (1580–1640) and it remained very much alive in the eyes of
future generations.
x Introduction
Finally, in chapter 8, this book concludes by showing the possibilities for engage
ment that exist today on-site, which attractively convey the experience of a medieval
conflict, acting as an effective way to preserve public memory. Indeed, the Aljubarrota
Foundation aims to offer a museum setting complemented by many other visitor experi
ences through an Interpretation Centre dedicated to this important battle, welcoming
visitors of all ages, and giving them privileged insights into the history of these events,
the involvement of all its protagonists and their role in the construction of the identity
of Portugal.
A select bibliography is provided at the end. Works found in this bibliography but which
are cited in footnotes are always given in shortened form in the latter. While the major
ity of research has been undertaken and published in Portuguese, we have attempted to
include as much relevant material from English and French-language publications as pos
sible. Nonetheless we hope that this volume will encourage more international research
ers to study this battle and to profit from a visit to the actual battlefield site.
The editors
Chapter 1
BEFORE ALJUBARROTA
LUÍS ADÃO DA FONSECA and MARIA CRISTINA PIMENTA
The primary objective of this chapter is to consider the national and interna
tional context surrounding the Battle of Aljubarrota (August 14, 1385). This subject has
been addressed by various Portuguese and international historians, albeit in a some
what oblique manner, both with regard to reflections on the actual battle as well as the
period in which it occurred.1 As one of the most researched and heavily discussed topics
in Portuguese history, we believe it is interesting to reconsider this issue and enquire as
to what extent Portugal’s relationship with the other kingdoms of Europe in the four
teenth century allows us to place the Portuguese National Crisis of 1383–13852 and, even
more so, its military expression in Aljubarrota, within the wider context of what has
been called the Hundred Years’ War.
The Historical Context

The final decades of the fourteenth century were troubled, with a profound demo
graphic and economic crisis that affected Western Europe after approximately three
centuries of continuous growth following the “millennium.” Food supplies were prob
lematic: insufficient agricultural crop yields from 1314 to 1317 were recorded in a large
part of Western Europe, where agricultural activity was the main engine of the economy.
At the same time, social tensions intensified and were often directed towards those who
held or represented authority, whether bishop, lord, or officer of the king. As a result,
weak physical resistance meant populations were susceptible to systematic outbreaks
of epidemics, notably the mid-century Black Death. This was an endemic disease which,
from sources available, arrived in Europe by sea through Genoese merchants with eco
1 In addition to studies cited in the Select Bibliography (under Arnaut, Coelho, Duarte, Monteiro,
Russell, and Suarez Fernandez), other key works in Portuguese include Saúl António Gomes, A
Batalha Real. 14 de Agosto de 1385 (Lisbon: Fundação Batalha de Aljubarrota, 2007); João Gouveia
Monteiro, A Guerra em Portugal nos finais da Idade Média (Lisbon: Notí�cias, 1998); and Peter
Russell, “Galés portuguesas ao serviço de Ricardo de Inglaterra (1385–89),” Revista da Faculdade de
Letras de Lisboa 18 (1953): 61–73 (reprinted in the Variorum series, Portugal, Spain and the African
Atlantic: 1343–1490 (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1995)).
This chapter builds on two crucial earlier studies: Luí�s Adão da Fonseca, O essencial sobre o
Tratado de Windsor and “Significado da Batalha de Aljubarrota no contexto da conjuntura polí�tica
europeia no último quartel do séc. XIV,” in A guerra e a sociedade na Idade Média, VI Jornadas Luso–
Espanholas de Estudos Medievais, ed. M. Helena C. Coelho, Saul Gomes and António M. Rebelo, 2 vols.
(Coimbra: Sociedade portuguesa de estudos medievais, 2009), 1:57–74.
2 This is the title of a publication by Marcelo Caetano (A Crise Nacional de 1383–1385. Subsídios
para o seu estudo (Lisbon: Verbo, 1985)), and it became synonymous with the events in 1383–1385
in modern Portuguese historiography.
2 ��
nomic interests in the Crimean Peninsula. Almost all of Europe was seriously hit by this
disease, but it is difficult to get definitive figures on the overall death-rate.3 This led
to depopulation, an aspect that would eventually become one of the main obstacles to
economic recovery, and loss of faith in the Church in the face of such human decima
tion, some seeing it as punishment from God. This opened the door to spiritual disorder
embodied in either rigorous morality or a turn to heresy.
In Portugal, manifestations of these broader phenomena were felt in many aspects
of social life and strongly influenced the framework of political action in the fifteenth
century. The most well-known measures to decrease the effects of this crisis were intro
duced in Portugal by King Afonso IV (1325–1357). Arguably, most influential was a law
called Pragmática, by which the monarch limited each social category to what they were
allowed to spend, and at the same time, regulated labour in the fields and taxation on
wages.4 These and other measures5 were far from easy to achieve and his successor,
King Pedro I, was to follow his father’s steps trying to preserve at least some social equi
librium.6
These general crises naturally had an effect on politics. Portugal was involved in
many events within a broader western European sphere prior aside from those directly
leading to the armies of King Juan I of Castile and the armies of King João I of Portugal
coming to face each other on the battlefield at Aljubarrota. What happened before that
afternoon in August 1385, a military episode of unquestionable historical importance,
must be seen in the context of how Europe was structurally aligned and how this align
ment was reflected in Portugal.
Because this battle triggered a serious crisis which affected political relationships
across the Iberian Peninsula, it is important to present it within this broader European
context. Indeed, let us consider these words written relatively recently:
It is essential to consider the two major warlike systems in this period of European his
tory, perfectly differentiated in chronological terms, and both fully obedient to autono
mous political–military issues. In this order of ideas, what is in question in the period
which interests us—the second half of the fourteenth century—is of course the first cycle
of wars, which took place between 1336 and 1388, which nowadays is classified as the
Crécy military system.7
3 One estimate puts the overall figure at around one-third of the population of Europe at the time.
See further, Monteiro, Aljubarrota 1385. A Batalha Real, 32.
4 Marcelo Caetano, História do Direito Português (1140–1495) (Lisbon: Verbo, 1992), 279. See
Livro das Leis e Posturas, ed. by Maria Teresa Campos Rodrigues (Lisbon: Faculdade de Direito,
1971), 448–51.
5 One of the last syntheses on this policy can be read in Coelho, D. João I, 22; Bernardo Vasconcelos e
Sousa, “Idade Média (Séculos XI–XV),” in História de Portugal, ed. Rui Ramos, Bernardo Vasconcelos
e Sousa and Nuno Gonçalo Monteiro (Lisbon: A Esfera dos Livros, 2010), chap. 4, 119–23 or Duarte,
Aljubarrota. Crónica dos anos de brasa, 12–17.
6 Pimenta, D. Pedro I, 90–150.
7 Fonseca, “Significado da Batalha de Aljubarrota,” 61n22, contains essential references to
understanding this process, such as Alfred H. Burne, The Crecy War: A Military History of the
Hundred Years War from 1337 to the Peace of Bretigny, 1360 (London: Eyre & Spottiswoode, 1955).
Before Aljubarrota 3
The unfolding of events from 1336 onwards in France, when the War of Flanders
started—the first of the aforementioned wars—immediately led to a reordering of
political forces in Western Europe. The Iberian Peninsula could not remain indifferent
to what was happening, since it directly affected the control of the area from the English
Channel to the Cantabrian Sea. Given the connections this area provided with the Baltic
and with the Mediterranean, this first phase of the Hundred Years’ War also implied a
struggle for the control of maritime communications within the area of the “first Atlan
tic,” extending along the western coasts of Europe.
At that time in Portugal, a century had passed since the end of the Reconquista (the
conquest of Faro in the Algarve having taken place in 1249), and the continental borders
with Castile had been set down in the well-known treaty of Alcanices (1279). Given this,
the kingdom and its political leaders were fully aware of the need to define a maritime
policy, which was initiated by extending the traditional historiographical interpretation
of Reconquista; that is, being an attempt to divert turmoil within the country by wag
ing war outside the borders of the kingdom. In other words, a new strategic frontier
was being defined, by moving from the mainland to the sea, a place where maritime
war and corsairs would take on a crucial dimension. Naturally, the diplomatic implica
tions this political strategy involved were clear: as regards Castile, the defence of Portu
guese interests would imply the preservation of a dual border (on the one hand, the land
border and, on the other, a strategic border defending commercial and military routes
which extended beyond the former). Being able to respond to this challenge obviously
conditioned to a great extent—if not all of—the political actions of the Portuguese mon
archy at that time.
Within the broader west European context of countries taking sides in the Hun
dred Years’ War, the Avignon Papacy and suchlike, Portugal had initially kept apart, but
this was no longer possible after 1346, the year of the French defeat at Crécy. During
the 1340s, Portuguese diplomacy was played out on various levels which were contra
dictory in their implications. On the one hand, it was important not to lose friendship
with Castile but, on the other hand, it had to align with English positions (who were
at that moment in the ascendant), since without their support it would have been dif
ficult for the Portuguese to access markets and ports in the North. Clear examples of this
binary approach of Portugal towards England and Castile can be illustrated, respectively,
through the matrimonial policy of the Portuguese monarchy which had a pro-English
orientation,8 or through the signing of a Luso–English trade treaty in 13539 and another
peace treaty in 1358 between Pedro I of Portugal and the King of Castile, which envis
8 In 1345, an English betrothal with one of the daughters of King Afonso IV was negotiated (see
V. M. Shillington and A. B. Chapman, The Commercial Relations of England and Portugal (London:
Routledge, 1907), 7–8) and, in 1347, Leonor of Portugal married Pedro IV of Aragon, a marriage
that clearly took place following the diplomatic contacts between England and the peninsular
kingdoms, dating back to the start of 1344 (see Bernardo Vasconcelos e Sousa, D. Afonso IV (Lisbon:
Cí�rculo de Leitores, 2005), 206–8 and 220–21).
9 Tiago Viúla de Faria and Flávio Miranda, “Pur bonne alliance et amiste faire: Diplomacia e
comércio entre Portugal e Inglaterra no final da Idade Média,” Cultura, Espaço & Memória 1 (2010):
109–27 at 111–12.
4 ��
aged the marriage of the Lusitanian heir, Fernando, to the daughter of the Castilian mon
arch. While it is true that this marriage did not take place, this rapprochement between
the crowns would last until at least 1362.10
Upon his accession to the throne, following the death of his father on January 18,
1357,11 Fernando inherited a diplomatic balance between the aforementioned king
doms. Portugal was being led by circumstances beyond its borders, following the 1360
Treaty of Brétigny which, at least for a few years, interrupted the rising losses caused
by the great conflict. Even so, from the perspective of Portuguese interests, this balanc
ing act did not solve every problem. If a civil war were rekindled in Castile (with its
knock-on consequences in the alignment of positions on the European stage) its con
sequences would be felt in Portugal at the highest level. Peter Russell, in a well-known
work, emphasized precisely this aspect when calling attention to the diplomatic mission
sent by the Portuguese monarch Pedro I to England intending to apologize for what the
King of Castile had said.12 This mission was led by the Bishop of É� vora and Gomes Lou
renço do Avelar. They travelled to Gascony to meet the Prince of Wales and report the
comments made by Pedro I of Castile on the bad reception that he and his daughters
had received in 1366 in Portugal from his uncle, King Pedro I. This tightrope stance with
England by the king of Portugal could not continue once he died in 1367.
After 1367 diplomacy became more intricate when the crowns of Castile and France,
now also united at a military level, were able to turn the military tide with England.
Indeed, the collaboration of the Castilian navy meant that France, defeated at Crécy,
gained political strength. With the English defeat at La Rochelle, in 1372, the domina
tion of Castilian ships in the Atlantic had become more significant.13 In this scenario, it is
easier to understand the commercial policy advocated by the Portuguese maritime cit
ies in the second half of the fourteenth century. The opportunity of Portugal to maintain
privileged access to the South Atlantic became a top priority in political and diplomatic
relations concerning the Castilian, Basque, or Andalusian routes, inasmuch as the fleets
of Castile were directly competing here. The fact that Portuguese vessels had access to
the Atlantic under an alliance with Castile would ultimately limit Lusitanian seafaring; in
the long run, it would provide a fatal blow to Portuguese foreign business relationships.
Given this situation, and the geographical location of the kingdom of Portugal, it was
not very feasible to maintain autonomous Portuguese trade in the Atlantic. So, the pres
ervation of maritime freedom—the priority of Portuguese foreign policy at the time—
had been definitely compromised by the actions of the main adversaries in the Hundred
Years’ War, and Portugal had no way of turning conditions in its favour.
The international situation remained extremely fluid, and King Fernando of Portugal
found himself with limited options. After the assassination of Pedro I the Cruel of Castile
at the hands of his brother Enrique of Trastâmara in 1369, the Portuguese king was
10 Chancelaria de D. Pedro I, ed. A. H. Oliveira Marques (Lisbon: Instituto Nacional de Investigação

Cientí�fica, 1984), 90–92. See Pimenta, D. Pedro I, 154ff.
11 Lopes, Crónica de D. Pedro I, chap. 44 at 202.
12 Lopes, Crónica de D. Pedro I, chap. 42, 191–93. See Russell, A Intervenção Inglesa, 100.
13 Russell, A Intervenção Inglesa, 222–24.
asked to intervene and take revenge for the death of Pedro. In order to do so, King Fer
nando began by assuming a clearly Anglophile position, convinced that he could obtain
benefits within the Peninsula by organizing a series of military interventions in the
neighbouring territory.14 However, the rapid turn of the European conflict in favour of
the Franco-Castilian bloc obliged the King of Portugal to take a different stance, through
the Luso–Castilian treaty of March 1371, signed at Alcoutim, and the promise to marry
Leonor, daughter of Enrique II of Trastâmara, the King of Castile.15 Since this marriage
did not in the end occur, we can see how the variety of matrimonial negotiations by the
King of Portugal are only understood within the international chess-game taking place
at the time.
When, in May 1372, Fernando decided to suddenly marry a Portuguese noble
woman, Leonor Teles,16 that meant—in terms of foreign Portuguese policy—refusing to
make any political decision that would imply a definitive European alignment. A differ
ent option (such as marrying a princess from Aragon or one from Castile, as had been
decided in Alcoutim)17 would certainly have required forming alliances which sooner
or later would have compromised the position of Portugal within the framework of the
Hundred Years’ War. That is why “the marriage of Fernando to Leonor Teles was, for all
intents and purposes, a clear move with the future in mind.[…] By paying the lowest
possible cost, Fernando could not do anything else but negotiate the freedom of naviga
tion for Lusitanian trade with the Lords of the Atlantic.”18 In so doing, Portugal avoided a
unilateral foreign policy, perhaps in a brilliant manner, to ensure to keep doors open for
future commitments either with the Peninsular kingdoms or with France or England.19
Political options were further restricted once international political alignments
took on a new, religious dimension. This happened in 1378 when Christendom became
divided between two popes. After Pope Gregory XII decided to leave the French city of
Avignon and return to Rome, a crisis emerged upon his death. As expected, his succes
14 Lopes, Crónica de D. Fernando, chap. 25 at 87–89 and chap. 28, 97–98 (Lisbon: Imprensa
Nacional / Casa da Moeda, 1975). Cf. Rita Costa Gomes, D. Fernando (Lisbon: Cí�rculo de Leitores,
2005); Armando Martins, Guerras fernandinas, 1369–1382 (Lisbon: Academia Portuguesa da
História, 2008); Monteiro, “De D. Afonso IV (1325) à batalha de Alfarrobeira (1449),” 250–61.
15 Lopes, Crónica de D. Fernando, chap. 53, 179–83. On the meaning of the negotiations between
Portugal and England, see Faria and Miranda, “Pur bonne alliance et amiste faire,” 113.
16 Lopes, Crónica de D. Fernando, chaps. 57–58 at 197–204 and chaps. 62–63 at 215–21.
17 It should be noted that, as might be expected, the news of Fernando’s marriage to Leonor Teles
was not received without criticism in the court of Enrique II. See Serrano, Beatriz de Portugal,
53–55.
18 Fonseca, O essencial sobre o Tratado de Windsor, 18–19.
19 Examples of what has just been stated can be found in the signing of the Treaty of Tagilde
(1372), between the Duke of Lancaster and the Portuguese king against Enrique II of Castile. Lopes,
Crónica de D. Fernando, chap. 67, 235–36. See Sérgio da Silva Pinto, “O primeiro tratado da aliança
anglo-português—Tratado de Tagilde de 10 de Julho de 1372,” Boletim do Arquivo Municipal de
Braga 12 (1949): 347–63; Russell, The English Intervention, 229–30; Arnaut, A crise nacional dos
fins do século XIV, 34.
6 ��
sion did not go undisputed, as the French were aiming to maintain the papal see at Avi
gnon and other realms intended to support a Roman pope.
This dispute led to Clement VII settling in Avignon and Urban VI in Rome, each with
different supporters. Portugal took the side of Urban VI, along with, among others, Eng
land, while France and Castile opted for Clement VII.20 To safeguard navigation in the
Atlantic (important to leading members of society as well as having an economic dimen
sion), the Portuguese Crown faced another dilemma which meant it would not always
be possible to act in a totally independent manner. Developments in the war meant Por
tugal might have to negotiate the circulation of Portuguese boats in the Atlantic with
the Castilians as well as seeking an urgent renewal of the alliance with England. This
explains two apparently contradictory matrimonial negotiations: on Portuguese ini
tiative marriage was agreed upon between the Portuguese and Castilian heirs on May
21, 1380,21 and, days later, Richard II of England gave João Fernandes Andeiro, Count of
Ourém, authorization to enter into an alliance with Portugal, which was signed on July
15 and led to the negotiation of the marriage of Beatriz to the son of the Earl of Cam
bridge.22 The outcome would eventually result in a definite rapprochement between
Portugal and Castile, especially when the Earl of Cambridge led an expedition to Portu
gal, partly on Portuguese instigation but a failure.23
For the Castilians, this news was received with considerable concern, and they
decided to assemble an armada with the aim of blocking the Portuguese coast.24 As an
interesting detail, it should be noted that the English involved in this expedition, when
returning to England in September 1382, were transported in Castilian ships.25.
Indeed, the power of Castile to dominate the path of the Atlantic routes seemed
unquestionable. For the Portuguese monarch, it was time to opt for the most advanta
geous solution for the country’s economy and, perhaps, one that would most satisfy the
interests of Portuguese society. A new Luso–Castilian peace agreement was therefore
signed in Elvas in August 1382. Beatriz—once again—was now promised to Fernando
de Antequera, the Castilian prince who would later become king of Aragon.
In these circumstances, it is not difficult to understand the decision of King Fer
nando to cast aside a commitment to England in favour of a pro-Castilian alignment.
The monarch clearly understood that Portugal could only navigate in the Atlantic if it
was fully integrated within the area of Castilian influence. This required the Portuguese
20 An interesting publication on this topic can be read in Doctrinas y relaciones de poder en el

Cisma de Occidente y en la época conciliar (1378–1449), ed. José Antonio de Camargo and Bernardo
Bayona Aznar (Zaragoza: Prensas de la Universidad de Zaragoza, 2013).
21 Russell, A Intervenção Inglesa, 329; Suárez Fernández, Historia del reinado de Juan I de Castilla,
1:78–80.
22 Lopes, Crónica de D. Fernando, chap. 162 at 561–62; Suárez Fernández, Historia del reinado de
Juan I de Castilla, 1:79; Russell, A Intervenção Inglesa, 329–33.
23 Russell, A Intervenção Inglesa, 335ff.
24 Russell, A Intervenção Inglesa, 344. See Armando da Silva Saturnino Monteiro, Batalhas e
combates da marinha portuguesa, vol. 1, 1139–1521 (Lisbon: Sá da Costa, 1989), 33–36.
25 Russell, A Intervenção Inglesa, 371–72.
monarch to take fundamental and decisive steps to reassess political power and, above
all, the carrying out of his regal function.
We believe it is within this context that when Juan I of Castile suddenly became a
widower in September 1382, and despite the various marriage proposals he received,
the Portuguese princess Beatriz was chosen to be his new queen.26 No attempt was
made to prevent this marriage by the Portuguese—on the contrary in fact. There was a
certain consensus in favour of this solution, perhaps because at that moment it repre
sented the only way to maintain peace in the Iberian Peninsula. In fact, the
widowhood of the King of Castile himself, [...] completely changed the course of Beatriz’s
life. This was the fifth and definitive marriage option, which can be considered in part as
a derivation from the previous ones, since many aspects of the bond had already been
accepted. But only in part, because the major difference that separated Juan I from his
son Fernando was the condition of the new pretender: it was not the same thing to marry
Beatriz to the king of Castile as to his second son.27
As a result, after years of a fraught relationship between the Portuguese and Castilian
thrones, King Fernando agreed to sign treaties at Pinto (December, 1382) and Salvaterra
de Magos (April, 1383) as proof of a new détente.28 By the latter treaty, King Fernando’s
only daughter, Beatriz, would marry the king of Castile, Juan I, at Badajoz. However, the
Portuguese king died in October of that same year, and the regency of the kingdom was
handed over to his widow, Leonor Teles. While the kingdom was unsettled by a lack of
clarity in the line of succession, the queen, for personal and political reasons, embarked
on a delicate path along which she undertook a precipitous defence of her daughter’s
rights, leading to a major schism in Portuguese society. In a very short period of time,
these divisions came to light and opposition to the regent became a reality.
Castile Turns from Friend to Enemy, 1383–1384

Without some awareness of this background it is difficult to understand the unfold
ing of events which followed, and those that were perhaps the most decisive for what
happened on August 14, 1385 on the fields of Aljubarrota. The main question to be
answered is, thus, why and how did a Luso–Castilian alliance mutate in barely two years
into a battle between the two crowns?
One of the factors was, as we have seen, Portugal’s need to ensure a relatively inde
pendent political, diplomatic, economic, and maritime area for itself and this required a
good relationship with England. The Anglophile party had support from the bourgeoisie
of the coastal cities, perfectly aware that an alliance with Castile would mean it would
26 Lopes, Crónica de D. Fernando, chap. 160 at 555–57; Suárez Fernández, Historia del reinado de
Juan I de Castilla, 1:125ff. The text of the marriage contract between Juan I of Castile and Beatriz of
Portugal can be read in Arnaut, A crise nacional dos fins do século XIV, 359–60.
27 Serrano, Beatriz de Portugal, 81.
28 Lopes, Crónica de D. Fernando, chap. 157 at 545–46 and chap. 169 at 581–84; Arnaut, A crise
nacional dos fins do século XIV, 341–93; Suárez Fernández, Historia del reinado de Juan I de Castilla,
1:127–34.
8 ��
Table 1: Genealogy
of Portuguese Kings,
Queens, and Offspring,
ca. 1350–1450.
then be Castile who would ultimately control Portuguese seafaring in the Atlantic.29
Another factor lies in the dynastic problem caused by Fernando’s succession. The aris
tocracy was divided: some accepted Castilian friendship (represented in the marriage of
Beatriz to Juan I); others argued for a national solution, involving the accession to the
throne of Pedro I and Inês de Castro’s sons, João and Dinis.30 They both were progeny of
a complicated relationship between Prince Pedro (then not yet king of Portugal) and a
Galician noble woman, Inês, whose family was highly regarded in the peninsular politi
cal scenario of the period. Their two Infantes were living in Castile and, as soon as the
succession problem arose in Portugal, Juan I of Castile ordered João to be arrested (as
he was the eldest brother and the one who would be summoned to reign in Portugal).31
The events which preceded the Battle of Aljubarrota may be explained by the interplay
in this complex framework.
With the death of the king of Portugal, Fernando I, in 1383, and with his only daugh
ter, Beatriz, being married to Juan I of Castile, a considerable number of influential Por
tuguese dignitaries swore immediately after this marriage “covenants and reciprocal
assurances in relation to the Portuguese succession,”32 in the treaty of Salvaterra de
Magos. According to this treaty, the Portuguese throne should subsequently pass to an
eventual child of Juan and Beatriz (or, in the absence of children, the regency should
29 Russell, A Intervenção Inglesa, 226–27, 231–32 and 386–89.

30 See, for example, Arnaut, A crise nacional dos fins do século XIV, 166–69 and 173ff.
32 Serrano, Beatriz de Portugal, 88.
Plate 1: Morte do Conde Andeiro (Death of Count Andeiro),

by José de Sousa Azevedo (1830–1864).
go to Leonor Teles, the king’s widow). And so we might ask why was it not possible,
in political terms, to follow what was stipulated in that treaty? The question is impor
tant because the military confrontation at Aljubarrota resulted from the treaty not being
capable of being implemented for political reasons.
Leonor Teles, then regent and governess of the kingdom of Portugal and the Algarve,
received precise instructions from her daughter and son-in-law for Portugal to issue
proclamations acclaiming Beatriz as queen of Portugal. A sharpening of social tensions
based on the rapid enthronement of Juan I and Beatriz was to be expected. Nevertheless,
as we have seen, there were alternatives who could have succeeded Fernando: the Infan-
tes João and Dinis and also another João, master of the religious-military Order of Avis,
likewise son of the same king Pedro I.
Portugal faced no easy options: opinions were polarized, pressure came from vari
ous sources with different levels of intensity, and events ran out of control. Opposition to
the regent, led by the maritime cities—with Lisbon at the forefront, already in the pro
cess of economic recovery after a long period of crisis—took to the streets, and events
followed each other at breakneck speed.33 It is worth recalling that Leonor Teles, under
33 An extensive appreciation of this important period of Portuguese history can be read in Campos,
Leonor Teles, uma mulher de poder?, 136ff.
10 ��
the terms of the Treaty of Salvaterra de Magos was entitled, as regent of the realm, to
make important decisions, such as appointing mayors and other officials, convening the
Cortes, and suchlike.34 That was certainly not popular among the Portuguese. It was not
surprising, then, that the Count of Ourém (believed to be the queen’s lover and a known
agent of foreign interests) was assassinated (in December 1383), and the Infante João,
having taken refuge in Castile, became, as we have mentioned, the “national” alterna
tive (which explains his immediate imprisonment in Castile) and the perfect figure to
lead the opposition to Leonor Teles. Nevertheless, as he was not then in Portugal, it was
the Master of Avis, his half-brother, who, in the beginning, acted as his representative.
Shortly after, he accepted becoming defender of the kingdom in his own name.
As a result, within a few months, a climate of civil war had spread over the whole
kingdom which, in the words of Fernão Lopes led to a “strong and deadly war seeing
some Portuguese individuals wishing to destroy others, and those born from the womb
and brought up by the land wish to kill themselves willingly and sprinkle the blood of
their parents and relatives!”35
The main currents of opinion and the corresponding Portuguese pressure groups
were divided as to a response to this crisis. The Anglophile party found fulsome sup
port in the bourgeoisie and the maritime cities. But the aristocracy was divided. Some
accepted Castilian friendship, which, through the marriage of Beatriz to Juan I of Castile,
contained uncertain guarantees regarding Portugal’s independence; others argued for a
“national solution” by continuing the royal lineage through Inês de Castro’s heirs. Vari
ous factors underlay preferences for one or other of the two options within the nobility.
For example, some noblemen were constrained by internal issues within aristocratic
families (resulting from inheritance problems), or economic interests of various forms,
such as Portuguese landowning overlapping with Castilian territory, among others. For
the upper Portuguese nobility, a Castilian solution probably seemed an attractive model.
Further study is needed on this point. In addition, there were destabilizing elements of
various types, including the emperegilados group (immigrants in favour of the former
King Pedro I of Castile who died in 1369 and who were opposed to the successor Trastâ
maran dynasty), which, through controlling some key positions, acted unreliably, oscil
lating between a positive attitude towards England and a hazy attitude towards Castile.
Simple explanations which divide groups into “patriots” and “traitors” do not work.
The seriousness and complexity of the problems, the major internal and external impli
cations of the options at play, and the interplay of many familial, economic, and even
strategic factors, suggest we should be prudent in our judgements. Western Europe, in
general, and the Iberian Peninsula, in particular, faced, in the 1380s, a delicate situa
34 All these decisions were of crucial significance, especially the convening of the Cortes. First
known in Portugal since 1254 in Leiria, the Cortes were reunions where representatives of cities
and urban communities gathered, at the request of the king (for the majority of occasions). Best
seen therefore as representative assemblies (Armindo de Sousa, As cortes medievais portuguesas
(1385–1490) (Porto: Instituto Nacional de Investigação Cientí�fica, 1990), 48), they dealt essentially
with finance, the signature and ratification of treaties, setting prices, taxation, and, as happened in
Coimbra, 1385, with the choice of the future king of Portugal.
35 Lopes, Crónica del Rei Dom João I, Parte Primeira, chap. 68, 116.
tion in which the rupture of the balance between the traditional powers was expressed
in the difficulty of achieving new political and diplomatic outcomes which successfully
replaced previous, but ineffective, ones. And everything had an effect on foreign rela
tions. Thus, without fear of exaggeration, it may be said that different futures for Portu
guese society were at stake. These implications, of which the protagonists on both sides
were perfectly aware, transformed a difficult problem of a dynastic succession into an
open conflict, creating the civil war to which we have already referred.
The person ultimately responsible for this process was the Master of the Order of
Avis, João, chosen as “Regent and Defender of the Kingdom.” On December 6, 1383, as a
consequence of a violent encounter with the Count of Ourém (someone very close to the
widowed queen, Leonor Teles), he took the first major step in defining what would then
take place. This decision can be considered as precipitous, with totally unpredictable
consequences, with the Master assuming full political responsibility, having to deal with
the inevitable military attack led by the King of Castile, who entered Portugal that same
month, ready to reclaim the throne. Indeed, that December, Juan I of Castile invaded via
the region of Guarda, laying siege to Coimbra, and then headed for Santarém, to meet
Leonor Teles, his mother-in-law. The ease with which the Castilian monarch was able
to do this is explained by the chronicler Fernão Lopes, who wrote: “It is fitting that we
should speak of the places which listened to and obeyed him, to see how he had much of
the kingdom under his control.” However, he added an important rider: “Notwithstand
ing that the people dwelling in those places obeyed him not through their own will, but
the mayors […] listened to his words and forced the commoners to obey.”36
As a result, the widowed queen, under pressure from the king of Castile and in total
disagreement with the provisions contained in the aforementioned Treaty of Salvaterra
de Magos, ceded the regency of the kingdom to her son-in-law.37 She was thus removed
from this “new” political scene and imprisoned in the monastery of Tordesillas.38 As
rightly pointed out by Olivera Serrano, Juan I of Castile used this opportunity as justifica
tion for people in Portugal to understand that “the revolt against the tyrant and his wife
was fully justified.”39
After this episode, the possibility of war now loomed and the Master of Avis had
to quickly rethink his strategy and activate precautionary measures which he had
established a few months previously. Examples were the appointment of Nuno Á� lvares
37 Juan I swiftly “ordered the coining of money in Santarém, collected the jewels which Leonor
had inherited from King Fernando, and received a service worth 30,000 pounds from the good men
of the district” (Coelho, D. João I, 43).
38 Lopes, Crónica del Rei Dom João I, Parte Primeira, chap. 84, 141–42. The points of view of the
widowed queen, which have generated some disagreement among Portuguese historians, can
nowadays be assessed in detail. See also Isabel Pina Baleiras, “The Political Role of a Portuguese
Queen in the Late Fourteenth Century,” in Queenship in the Mediterranean: Negotiating the Role
of the Queen in the Medieval and Early Modern Eras, ed. Elena Woodacre (New York: Palgrave
Macmillan, 2013), 97–123.
39 “La revuelta contra el tirano y su mujer estaba plenamente justificada.” Serrano, Beatriz de
Portugal, 94.
12 ��
Pereira to assure the defence of the frontier position in the Entre Tejo-e-Guadiana region
(spring 1384) and the sending of ambassadors to England in order to obtain English
support (not only military, but also political, in February 1384). While it is true that this
first approach by the Master to the English crown did not lead to immediate success for
Portuguese diplomacy, the commitment of the future King of Portugal to a Luso–English
alliance would eventually bear its desired outcome.40
In spring, 1384, making use of the resources still at his disposal, and at the head of
an army of fifteen hundred men, Nuno Á� lvares Pereira blocked the Castilian advance
at Atoleiros, near Fronteira, a region where the Order of Avis was in charge of the local
government.41 As João Gouveia Monteiro described:
It was in Fronteira that Nun’Á�lvares slept on that night of 6 April, surely relishing his first
great military victory. Of course this seems to have been facilitated by the poor perfor
mance of the adversary, who did not properly reconnoitre the terrain, and which erred
in not using its archers (who could have been very useful during the initial stage of the
combat to break up the Portuguese formation and put it into disarray), its light cavalry
and infantry soldiers, betting everything on a cavalry charge which took place on soaked
land and an unfavourable slope. The Castilian chancellor himself [Lopez de Ayala] recog
nized the disastrous hastiness: “[…] and due to bad ordinance they were foiled.” But this
should not detract from the merit of the tactical model drawn up by the winning army.
This is because from the outset they dared to take the initiative in the combat and were
able to attract the other army to a terrain that was clearly favourable to them. Secondly,
because they were able to adapt their resources to the battlefield, making full use of the
capacity and effect of their crossbowmen and the slingers, which proved to be an abso
lutely decisive factor in slowing down and disorganizing the powerful Castilian heavy
cavalry charge. Thirdly, in opting for combat fought completely on foot, Nun’Á�lvares’s risk
was rewarded: it balanced the fortunes of the men involved and their chances of survival,
and in so doing removed an important psychological effect, mainly for those less used to
fighting and who, with unmounted armed men at their side, received a moral boost which
must have raised their confidence considerably.42
However, in spite of this defeat, the king of Castile advanced on Lisbon on May 26, 1384,
with a fleet of forty ships and thirteen galleys.43 Juan I of Castile set up his troops (on land
and at sea) in an ostentatious manner with a group of men that the chronicler Fernão
Lopes described as being: “five thousand lancers […] and one thousand light cavalrymen
[…] and many good crossbowmen who were at least six thousand […] and many foot sol
40 However, it was only in July 1384 that Richard II of England gave a positive response to the two
emissaries, Fernando Afonso de Albuquerque, Master of the Military Order of Santiago, and to the
Chancellor Lourenço Anes Fogaça, in terms of authorizing the cooperation of English troops on the
side of the Master of Avis. See also Fonseca, O essencial sobre o tratado de Windsor, 50; Monteiro,
Aljubarrota 1385, 23–24 and Monteiro, “As campanhas que fizeram a história,” 262.
41 João Gouveia Monteiro, “A Batalha de Atoleiros (6 de Abril de 1384): ensaio geral para
Aljubarrota?,” Revista Portuguesa de Pedagogia suppl. issue (2011): 321–35, https://impactum-
journals.uc.pt/rppedagogia/article/view/1325/773; Lopes, Crónica del Rei Dom João I, Parte
Primeira, chap. 95, 158–61.
42 Monteiro, “A Batalha de Atoleiros,” 332–33.
43 Monteiro, “As campanhas que fizeram a história,” 265.
diers, excluding those that came in the fleet.”44 The Portuguese urgently needed to start
taking measures, particularly in terms of supplying and fortifying the city. Miguel Gomes
Martins listed some of the measures taken, namely the following:45
–– Tax advantages for those selling food in Lisbon, a measure with little success,
given that the main cities (Óbidos, Torres Vedras, Sintra, Cascais, Alenquer, and
Santarém) were in favour of Beatriz, which made the movement of goods and
individuals difficult.
–– Forced requisition of goods.
–– The sending of boats and skiffs to the Ribatejo region which brought back dead
cattle for salting.
–– Nuno Álvares Pereira leaving for Sintra on February 6, 1384 with three hundred
lancers to collect supplies.
–– A successful attempt to capture six Castilian vessels with supplies.
Incidentally, since the 1370s, King Fernando, already having encountered several prob
lems with Castile,46 had had a new wall built around Lisbon. As Martins wrote, “it was
precisely the fact that the city was well protected by this new structure which enabled it
to successfully resist the siege of the besieging armies in 1384.”47 In addition, a barbican
of more than three hundred metres was constructed and action was taken to “reinforce
the more than seventy towers with wooden pergolas well supplied with arms,” besides
ensuring a thorough check of the “heights of the wall.”48 For João Gouveia Monteiro: “As
for the more than thirty doors and gates of the city, twelve remained open during the
day, and were controlled by men of arms who slept at their posts.”49
Despite all these precautions the Castilians retained the upper hand. At sea, Portu
gal only had one fleet, arriving from Porto, of seventeen ships and seventeen galleys.
They clashed on July 18, with the Portuguese losing three ships. They passed the enemy
blockade, but they were rapidly surrounded by the Castilian fleet: “our fleet was like the
city: surrounded.”50 Controlling Lisbon in a situation like this would dictate the outcome.
And indeed, despite various unsuccessful attempted solutions, nothing seemed to work.
45 Miguel Gomes Martins, “Abastecer as cidades em contexto de guerra,” in Alimentar la ciudad
en la Edad Media, ed. Beatriz Arí�zaga Bolumburu and Jesús Á� ngel Solórzano Telechea (Logroño:
Instituto de Estudios Riojanos Nájera / Ayuntamiento de Nájera, 2009), 139–41.
46 In fact, as already mentioned in this chapter, between 1369 and 1371 King Fernando, led a
series of military interventions in the neighbouring territory. Enrique II of Castile responded, in
1372, when he “advanced on Lisbon without practically facing any opposition, surrounded the city
and devastated great part of the houses outside the wall,” A. H. de Oliveira Marques, Portugal na
Crise dos séculos XIV e XV (Lisbon: Presença, 1987), 515.
47 Martins, “Abastecer as cidades em contexto de guerra,” 137n26.
48 Monteiro, “As campanhas que fizeram a história,” 264–65.
50 Duarte, Aljubarrota. Crónica dos anos de brasa, 78.
14 ��
However, plague attacked the Castilian soldiers (in its final phase, two hundred men
were killed by this disease), and together with the Portuguese defence of the city, the
Castilians withdrew on September 4, 1384. This brought most of Portuguese society
behind the Master of Avis. His formal recognition as king of Portugal took place at the
Cortes of Coimbra, which met on April 6, 1385.
The Cortes of Coimbra, 1385: The Master of Avis Becomes King João I
Portuguese historians have always devoted great attention to the study of these Cortes51
since, following the arguments of the distinguished man of law, João das Regras, the
Master of Avis became legally able to accede as king of Portugal, the first monarch in
the new dynasty of Avis. At the outset of the Cortes, when considering the actions and
commitments made by the soon to be king João I, no other outcome might be expected.
However, the matter was and always has been complex and deserves thorough exami
nation.
When the Cortes assembled the throne was not vacant insofar as “there being not
one, but many” possible heirs.52 More precisely, four: Beatriz (for all intents and pur
poses, queen of Portugal), the Infantes João and Dinis (children of King Pedro I), and the
Master of Avis, also son of the same king. The speech made by João das Regras would try
to reverse this situation, proving that none of the candidates was a legitimate heir, as
Maria Helena Coelho has explained in detail.53
João das Regras alleged that the Infantes João and Dinis, sons of Inês de Castro and
King Pedro I, had been born without their parents being married; that João, Master of
Avis, was the fruit of an extra-marital relationship of the same king with Teresa Lou
renço, and that Beatriz (daughter of King Fernando and Leonor Teles) had also been
an illegitimate child since the mother became wife of the king of Portugal while still
married to João Lourenço da Cunha. These circumstances, with a vacant throne and all
the candidates having been reduced to the status of bastards, opened the path for the
Master of Avis to be listed as a bastard, certainly, but of all four the best choice.
He argued that the Master of Avis had been present at the most critical moments of
Portugal in the last few years. When he agreed to become the “Regent and Defender of
the Kingdom” he had acted, not for his benefit and fame, but always in the name of his
elder brother, João. Moreover, the various military episodes in which Beatriz (through
the actions of her husband, Juan I of Castile) had raised arms against Portugal, and her
closeness to the Church of Avignon, made the oratorical task of João das Regras easier
when presenting the arguments favouring the Master of Avis.54
Let us not forget too the presence of Nuno Á� lvares Pereira at the Cortes of Coimbra;
from the outset he radically and vehemently expressed his support for the cause of the
51 Caetano, História do Direito; Sousa, As cortes medievais portuguesas; Coelho, D. João I.

52 Coelho, D. João I, 62.
53 Coelho, D. João I, 62–67.
54 André Madruga Coelho, “Ecclesiastical Support to the Master of Avis: An Analysis from the
Acclamation Act of 1385,” En la España Medieval 40 (2017): 147–62.
Plate 2: Portrait
of King João I
of Portugal,
anonymous, early
fifteenth century.
Master. This was an intimidating factor of some weight, along with the political and legal
arguments presented by others.55 It has been rightly observed that “this decisive change
of political power was due to the continued pressure of Nuno Á� lvares on the noble
men, often with insinuations concerning the possible use of arms, and the considerable
knowledge and legal and oratorical mastery of João das Regras. Two strong men, two
cornerstones, of the Master and King of Avis, who complemented each other.”56
Perhaps unsurprisingly, João was duly elected king of Portugal. At the time, he was
also bound by his vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience as Master of the Order of Avis;
however, he sought papal dispensation and on February 2, 1387 he married Philippa of
Lancaster.57

57 See Maria Cristina Pimenta, “A Ordem de Avis durante o Mestrado de D. Fernão Rodrigues de
16 ��
As a result, Lisbon received “at least six hundred and forty English mercenaries […]
[and] another rather small Anglo–Gascon contingent.”58 As well as the military help pro
vided to the new king of Portugal, this collaboration clearly pointed to the values argued
for by the Portuguese bourgeoisie and their emphasis on making maritime trade with
Northern Europe possible. This reflected Portugal’s foreign trade interests in the second
half of the fourteenth century.59
With the closing of the Cortes of Coimbra, which politically legitimized a new king for
Portugal, it would be expected that 1385—“the year of all decisions”60—forced the Cas
tilians to respond. One would not have presumed any less from Juan I and Beatriz, his
wife who, being in Castile, could not have averted the Cortes’ decision. Expecting some
response, now as King of Portugal, João I and his Constable Nuno Á� lvares Pereira set
about reorganizing their position in those northern Portuguese cities that had shown
themselves sympathetic to Beatriz, bringing Neiva, Viana, Caminha, Vila Nova de Cer
veira, Monção, Guimarães, Braga, and Ponte de Lima under their command.61
The Castilians started a new series of attacks, simultaneously on various fronts:
launching a fleet off Lisbon, crossing the border near Elvas (which the monarch himself
besieged), and sending noblemen who entered central Portugal in the region of the Bei
ras, as a prelude to the Battle of Trancoso on May 29, 1385.62
Sequeira,” Militarium Ordinum Analecta 1 (1997): 178–80. This marriage was another step in the
dynastic ambitions of John of Gaunt, begun the moment when he, some years before (in 1371),
married Constance, daughter of the late king Pedro I of Castile. Due to this marriage, he became
directly involved in Castilian politics, seeking to ascend the throne. Despite never achieving this
objective, the founder of the House of Lancaster maintained a continuing interest in the Iberian
Peninsula, especially expressed in the support given to D. João, Master of Avis. See, Peter Russell,
Spain and the African Atlantic, 1343–1490, 170–75 and more recently, Manuela Santos Silva, “John
of Gaunt, duque de Lancaster, rei de Castela e Leão: a “praxis” de vida de um cavaleiro durante a
Guerra dos Cem Anos,” in A guerra e a sociedade na Idade Média, VI Jornadas Luso–Espanholas de
Estudos Medievais, ed. M. Helena C. Coelho, Saul Gomes, and António M. Rebelo, 2 vols. (Coimbra:
Sociedade portuguesa de estudos medievais, 2009), 1:159–71.
59 Luí�s Adão da Fonseca, “As relações comerciais entre Portugal e os reinos peninsulares nos
séculos XIV e XV,” in Actas das II Jornadas Luso–Espanholas de História Medieval, 4 vols. (Porto:
INIC, 1988), 2:541–61. This choice took place diplomatically through the signing of the Treaty of
Windsor in May 1386. See Fonseca, O essencial sobre o Tratado de Windsor, where it is stated: “In
1386, Portugal defines four great coordinates for its foreign policy: proclaims to defend the freedom
of sea routes; defines the Channel as its northern strategic frontier (just as, by the beginning of
the fourteenth century, it had defined Gibraltar as its southern strategic frontier); and enters the
fifteenth century with a pro-English alignment, and, consequently, anti-Castilian.”
60 Barbosa and Gouveia, A Batalha de Trancoso, 9.
61 Lopes, Crónica del Rei Dom João I, Parte Segunda, chaps. 5 to 16, 12–31. For a more detailed
description of these military assaults, see the classic study by Humberto Baquero Moreno, “A
campanha de D. João I contra as fortalezas da região de Entre-Douro-e-Minho,” Revista da Faculdade
de Letras. História 2 (1985): 45–58 and, above all, Monteiro, “As campanhas que fizeram a história,”
267–68, Coelho, D. João I, 74–76, and Duarte, Aljubarrota. Crónica dos anos de brasa, 87–92.
62 Monteiro, “As campanhas que fizeram a história,” 268–72 and Barbosa and Gouveia, A Batalha
de Trancoso.
Gradually, Portugal united around the new monarch, João I and the new dynasty.
The House of Avis was born in fragility and the secret of its incomparably successful
popularity can be found within this very fragility. Among many examples to justify this
statement, Aljubarrota turned a kingdom still seen as a tasty meal to satisfy the King of
Castile’s hunger into a great victorious afternoon that would, in various ways, presage
future glories of the Portuguese.
At Aljubarrota, both warring parties played all their trump cards. The Castilians
asserted justification through the wishes of a Portuguese queen married in Castile
denied the opportunity of expressing her prerogatives at the Cortes of Coimbra and
also the possibility of a future heir one day governing both crowns. But also Castile was
launching an offensive against the entente reached between Portugal and England, of
which the marriage of the new monarch to a member of the House of Lancaster was
but the most explicit expression of a broad plan involving political and economic col
laboration. On the Portuguese side, besides the obvious need to defend its territory,
throne, and people, it was also essential to channel a combination of national forces in
this battle who, when faced with the enemy, would understand the need to unite around
a single cause, a feeling which had not been possible to entirely establish at the Cortes of
Coimbra, when people were still divided. Therefore, on this field of battle, the kingdom
was making peace with itself, expressing its allegiance to João I.
What happened will be the theme of the following chapters.
Chapter 2
FIGHTING A BATTLE IN THE MIDDLE AGES
JOÃO GOUVEIA MONTEIRO
On April 6, 1385, João, Master of Avis, was crowned as the tenth Portuguese mon
arch, therefore giving rise to a second (and brilliant) dynasty. At the same time, the legal
advisor João das Regras was appointed Chancellor and Nuno Á� lvares Pereira was chosen
to be the Constable of the kingdom.1 At the same time, a loan of £400,000 was granted
by the Cortes to the hero who had saved Lisbon from the Castilian conquest, since it was
clear that the war was far from over.
With his legitimacy greatly reinforced by the election held in Coimbra, João I then
advanced northwards, and alongside his Constable, he took a series of garrisons in the
district of Minho, which stubbornly held out for Juan and Beatriz—Neiva, Viana, Cer
veira, Monção, Caminha, Braga, Guimarães, and Ponte de Lima. However, at Easter 1385,
as we shall see in more detail later, various English vessels loaded with mercenaries
docked at Lisbon, Setubal, and Porto. The old chancellor Lourenço Fogaça and the Mas
ter of Santiago had managed to unblock their contracts in England.
In response, Juan I ordered a new attack on Portugal. This time the offensive would
take place on three fronts: the Castilian fleet would attack Lisbon, while a land army
would once again invade Beira, and the king himself would lay siege to the Alentejan bor
der town of Elvas. The plan was good, but operations went wrong, except for the naval
operation. The incursion into Beira resulted in an absolute disaster, since the Castilian
column carrying a considerable amount of loot on its return from Viseu was ambushed
and slaughtered near Trancoso. This happened on May 29, 1385 and the heroes of the
hour were Portuguese noblemen from the province of Beira: Gonçalo Vasques Coutinho,
Martim Vasques da Cunha, João Fernandes Pacheco, and Egas Coelho, among others.
All the captains in the service of Juan I perished in the fighting, with the exception of
his chief cupbearer, Á� lvaro Garcí�a de Albornoz.2 To make matters worse, Elvas resisted
siege by the king and he was therefore forced to change plans. He concentrated a large
number of troops on the Portuguese–Castilian border and, in the second week of July,
entered Portugal once again with a powerful, reinvigorated army.
August 12, 1385

On August 12, 1385, with their faces illuminated by the lights of their camp, the com
manders of the Portuguese and Castilian armies assessed the military situation and
its possible outcomes. The army of Juan I, with a little more than twenty thousand
men (including hundreds of French knights sent by King Charles VI), had just arrived
1 Lopes, Crónica del Rei Dom João I, Parte Primeira, chaps. 181–92.
2 Barbosa and Gouveia, A Batalha de Trancoso.
This content downloaded from

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20 João Gouveia Monteiro
Map 1: The Theatre

of the Portuguese–
Castilian War 1385.
in Leiria. This army had gathered in Ciudad Rodrigo at the end of June and entered
Portugal through the region of Beira the following month, marching through Almeida
and Trancoso. Here, as if exorcising the disaster suffered on May 29, he destroyed the
hermitage of San Marcos and then went on to Celorico da Beira where, on July 21, the
Castilian monarch took precautions to draft his will.
This halt also served for Juan I to better organize his marching column and col
lect more troops urgently requested from Castile, in order to form an army capable of
avenging the humiliation suffered the previous year at the siege of Lisbon and bringing
down the “Master of Avis,” who had called himself “King of Portugal” since April, 1385.
It seems likely that, at this point, the intention of the Castilian command was to reach
Santarém—the second most powerful garrison in the small Lusitanian kingdom, about
eighty kilometres northeast of the capital—and then to push on to Lisbon, “the military
key” to the country. If everything went according to plan, particularly since the fleet had

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Fighting a Battle in the Middle Ages 21
already been sent in April to cut off Lisbon by sea in April, the largest Portuguese city
would hardly be able to resist further and prolonged harassment: what is more, this
time there would not be a new outbreak of plague in the Castilian camp capable of sav
ing the “Master of Avis.”
So encouraged, the Castilian army moved forward to Coimbra (which did not wel
come it within its walls) and then to Soure, where it must have arrived on August 9. On
the way, it left a trail of destruction and blood. Having received information from his
scouts that the enemy was already carrying out manoeuvres near Tomar (an old and
emblematic Templar town), the Castilians opted to move closer to the coast, thereby
avoiding a clash, and reaching Leiria three days later.
Around twenty kilometres to the south, the Portuguese army, which would not have
consisted of more than ten thousand men (amongst whom were several hundred Eng
lish auxiliaries), finally made camp at Porto de Mós on the night of August 12, 1385.
Throughout June King João I had been watching the Castilian siege on Elvas (on the
south-eastern frontier, opposite Badajoz), but then, aware of the change of plans of his
rival and the concentration of Castilian troops in Ciudad Rodrigo, he decided to abandon
the province of the Alentejo, crossed the river Tagus and set up his main forces in Abran
tes, right in the centre of Portugal.
This position allowed him to manage various scenarios and respond quickly to
any Castilian movement. When the direction of the march of his adversary became
clearer, that is, when it was understood that Juan I was advancing to the south, head
ing for Santarém and Lisbon, the young Portuguese monarch (twenty-eight years old
and having ascended to the throne only four months ago) met with his war council in
Abrantes on August 5 or 6, to decide the next steps. As we will see later, the meeting
was quite animated, but led to the Constable Nuno Alvares Pereira’s opinion prevail
ing. He claimed that it was absolutely imperative to face the enemy, by intercepting
its marching column at a place still far from Lisbon and undertake a decisive battle
against these forces.
Accordingly, the Portuguese army advanced from Abrantes to Tomar, where they
encamped on August 8. Three days later, he decided to go to Ourém in search of his
adversary and, by the night of August 12, he had reached the village of Porto de Mós.
With the two rivals stationed so close to each other, fighting became inevitable, espe
cially because the Anglo-Portuguese army seemed willing to win or at least die in the
attempt.
It is this situation that makes the battle of Aljubarrota so interesting. In fact, pitched
battles in the late Middle Ages were uncommon, especially battles between armies led
by their respective kings, where the result would be so decisive. For such a battle to hap
pen, both rivals needed to be willing to fight and to risk their luck in a single battle. It is
therefore worthwhile, especially since this is the first book of a collection dedicated to
major medieval battles, carefully analysing the meaning of a pitched battle in this period
and why the most celebrated battle in Portuguese history was fought at the end of the
afternoon of 14 August, on the São Jorge–Aljubarrota plateau.

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Pitched Battles
Can there be a real war without the “point of no return” of a pitched battle?3 For many
decades, military historians did not believe so. A war without a battle would be a film
without a plot or happy ending for either of the parties. Throughout the nineteenth and
twentieth centuries, authors such as Charles Oman, Hans Delbrück, and J. F. C. Fuller4
developed a military history highly centred and dependent on decisive events which
brought two rival enemies together in a pitched battle as a final confrontation. Many
of these authors were military officers and were marked by a Clausewitzian concept of
war, namely, the continuation of politics through a mixture of other means, aiming at the
ruthless annihilation of the adversary in pitched battle. Touched by their personal expe
rience, these historians had the desire to explain the present, and this conditioned their
observation of past confrontations. As John France explains, “our perspective upon war
is, of course, affected by recent experience in which battle has been central in war. In two
terrible world wars the commanders on either side strove to bring their enemies to bat
tle, to smash their armies in the field, to bring them, even, to ‘unconditional surrender’.”5
In this type of military history, a practical interest prevailed which, coupled with a
disconnection between military history and other types of historical research (a point
emphasized by Ladero Quesada6), caused, as Garcí�a Fitz wrote, a “remarkably deformed”
image of medieval war.7 Furthermore, the Middle Ages were badly dealt with in that rep
resentation, with a lack of major pitched battles in the West being proof of the absence
of military strategy, infancy in the art of war, mediocrity of medieval generals, and the
impotence of the respective armies.
However, more recent military historians, trained differently, such as Ferdinand Lot
and John Beeler,8 have also had difficulty in breaking the mould and freeing themselves
of the idea that battle is la crème de la crème. Even in John Keegan’s enthralling work
entitled The Face of Battle, published in 1976 and which has so powerfully influenced
modern generations of military historians, we find engraved the fatal sentence: “Armies
3 For the following, I have reworked an article originally presented as Monteiro “Estratégia e
risco em Aljubarrota,” and later republished in João Gouveia Monteiro, Entre Romanos, Cruzados e
Ordens Militares: Ensaios de história militar antiga e medieval (Coimbra: Salamandra, 2010).
4 Charles W. C. Oman, A History of the Art of War in the Middle Ages, Vol. 1, 378–1278 AD; Vol.
2, 1278–1475 AD (1924; repr., revd., and extended, London: Greenhill, 1991; orig. ed.: A History
of the Art of War (London: Methuen, 1898)); Hans Delbrück, History of the Art of War within
the Framework of Political History, Vol. 3, The Middle Ages, trans. Walter J. Renfrew, Jr. (London:
Greenwood, 1982; trans. based on the 1923 Berlin ed.; orig. ed., Berlin, 1907); and the first volume
of Fuller, The Decisive Battles of the Western World and their Influence on History.
5 France, Victory in the East, 27.
6 Miguel Angel Ladero Quesada, “La organización militar de la Corona de Castilla durante los
siglos XIV y XV,” in La incorporación de Granada a la Corona de Castilla, ed. M. A. Ladero Quesada
(Granada, 1993), 19
7 Garcí�a Fitz, Las Navas de Tolosa. 30.
8 Lot, L’Art militaire et les armées, au Moyen Âge, en Europe et dans le Proche Orient; Beeler, Warfare
in Feudal Europe.

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[…] are for fighting. Military history […] must in the last resort be about battle.”9 More
recently still, Victor Davis Hanson, an American researcher specialized in the military
history of Classical Antiquity, extended this point of view in his work (prefaced by John
Keegan) entitled The Western Way of War: Infantry Battle in Classical Greece. In this
magnificent book, which sparked a healthy debate between military historians, Hanson
argued that the “model of Western war” had, since the period of the Hoplite soldiers
who made up Greek armies in the Ancient and Classical periods, involved the search for
decisive confrontation, in other words, battles.
On the other hand, since the mid-twentieth century, the renewal of study into medi
eval military history—nowadays with much deeper and multidisciplinary research and
approaches—has confronted prejudices and revised old positions. The studies of R. C.
Smail, Christopher Marshall, and David Nicolle10 on the Crusader armies, for example,
showed how medieval warfare was not so primitive, nor did the commanders of the
Middle Ages fail to provide their campaigns with an intelligent and profitable strategic
orientation just because they did not lead to a pitched battle.
New facets of medieval warfare (including recruitment, supplies, funding, commu
nication systems, theoretical and practical training) began to be discovered, studied in
depth (using available documents), and placed in the context of a “new military history”
across all historical eras. Authors such as Warren Hollister, H. J. Hewitt, Claude Gaier,
Philippe Contamine, Maurice Keen, and Christopher Allmand provided depth to Liddell
Hart’s ideas about “strategies of indirect approach” and highlighted the importance of
suitably planned attrition warfare and “obsidional” strategies (i.e., a tendency to take
refuge inside walls) and ancillary strategies that gave meaning to medieval war despite
the rarity of major confrontations in open battle.11
This historical renewal culminated in a “second wave” of works, particularly by Jim
Bradbury, John Gillingham, Stephen Morillo, Matthew Strickland, John France, Matthew
Bennett, and Michael Prestwich, who together helped form a new image of medieval war,
re-establishing the battle within a much wider theoretical and operational context and
proving that medieval war was much more than a succession of battles.12 The obsession
9 Cited from the Portuguese translation of The Face of Battle by John Keegan, as O rosto da batalha
(Lisbon: Fragmentos, 1987), 22.
10 Smail, Crusading Warfare, 1097–1193 (orig. ed.: 1956; 1995); Marshall, Warfare in the Latin;
Nicolle, Crusader Warfare.
11 Hollister, Anglo-Saxon Military Institutions on the Eve of the Norman Conquest; Hewitt, The
Organization of War under Edward III; Gaier, Art et organisation militaires dans la principauté de
Liège et dans le comté de Looz; Contamine, Guerre, État et Société à la fin du Moyen Âge and La
Guerre au Moyen Âge; Keen, Medieval Warfare; Allmand, The Hundred Years War; and B. H. Liddell
Hart, The Way to Win Wars, revd. and extended in 1954. See also Garcí�a Fitz, Las Navas de Tolosa,
15–40.
12 Bradbury, The Medieval Siege; Gillingham, “Richard I and the Science of War”; Gillingham,
“William the Bastard at War”; Morillo, Warfare under the Anglo-Norman Kings; Strickland, War and
Chivalry; France, Western Warfare in the Age of the Crusades; Matthew Bennett, The Medieval World
at War (London: Thames & Hudson, 2009); and Prestwich, Armies and Warfare in the Middle Ages.
The English Experience.

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with studying open battles had sapped the energy of everything surrounding them and
space had been made for new research of an extraordinary importance and fecundity.
An Iberian example of that evolution and its potential is the classic (and still useful)
study by Ambrosio Huici Miranda on the Reconquista and its battles (published in 1956)
and the notable doctoral thesis from 1998 by Francisco Garcí�a Fitz dedicated to strate
gies of expansion and military tactics in the context of the confrontations between Cas
tile, Leon, and Islam in the eleventh to thirteenth centuries.13 The study by Garcí�a Fitz
clearly shows that in these three centuries, despite the scarcity of major open battles,
the Castilian-Leonese world had a suitably planned, coherent, and successful strategy
for territorial expansion, employing political, economic, diplomatic, and military means
necessary to carry out its ambitious political objectives, which had been clearly defined
a priori and carried out across various generations.14 If we look at the biographies of
the Castilian-Leonese monarchs from Fernando I (whose death in 1065 led to pressure
being put on the taifa kingdoms situated north of the Tagus river) until Sancho IV (to
whom we owe, almost two and a half centuries later, the reclamation of a Christian pres
ence in the Strait of Gibraltar), we can immediately understand that, with the exception
of Afonso VIII (who led the Christian armies at Alarcos in 1195 and at Las Navas de
Tolosa in 1212), participation in pitched battles was extremely rare.15 However, that did
not stop “the systematic application of an indirect approximation strategy which put
into play political and military tools of various different kinds”16 which would prove to
be decisive.
At the time when he developed these ideas, Garcí�a Fitz17 had already benefited from
the research of some of the English-speaking authors cited. In an 1984 study, for exam
ple, Jim Bradbury counted only seven pitched battles which had taken place in England
and in Normandy between 1066 and 1154, despite the lively nature of this period.18 Fur
thermore, John Gillingham, in two acclaimed articles about the lives of Richard the Lion
heart (1984) and William the Conqueror (1989), showed that, even in the lives of these
warring knights, pitched battles were a surprising rarity.
These findings brought military historians closer to the idea that pitched battles
were rare and somewhat secondary occurrences in the context of medieval military
strategy. So it behoved historians to turn their attention to other types of events, such
as sieges. Bradbury, reporting on the twelfth century, estimated that “warfare consisted
of perhaps one per cent battles and ninety-nine per cent sieges”19, cavalry raids, loot
ing operations, destruction of land and property, and so on. This orientation spread in
13 A. Huici Miranda, Las grandes batallas de la Reconquista durante las invasiones africanas
(Almorávides, Almohades y Benimerines) (Madrid: Instituto de Estudios Africanos, 1956); and
Garcí�a Fitz, Castilla y León frente al Islam.
14 Garcí�a Fitz, Castilla y León frente al Islam, 56.
15 Garcí�a Fitz, Las Navas de Tolosa, 79.
16 Garcí�a Fitz, Castilla y León frente al Islam, 56.
17 Garcí�a Fitz, Castilla y León frente al Islam, 21–57.
18 Jim Bradbury, cited in Garcí�a Fitz, Las Navas de Tolosa, 34.
19 Bradbury, The Medieval Siege, 71.

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such a way that Matthew Strickland (in 1996) stated that the idea according to which
“the majority of commanders were anxious to avoid pitched battle whenever possible,
due to enormous strategic, political and physical risks which it entailed […] is now so
commonplace that it may safely be said to have moved from revisionism to orthodoxy”!20
Hence the “Gillingham paradigm” of which Clifford Rogers speaks21 (and which Gilling
ham prefers to call the “Smail paradigm”22). This meant taking the conceptual revision of
military strategy started by R. C. Smail to a point at which “indirect war” and the absence
of a pitched battle are so valued that this almost becomes a foreign body (in the sense of
an extraordinary event) in the current practice of war.
Vegetius and the Theory and Practice of Warfare

This paradigm—this “new orthodoxy”—has been affirmed alongside the rediscovery
of the opus magnum of Publius Flavius Vegetius Renatus, a Latin author who around
400 CE composed a treaty for the Roman emperor known as Epitoma rei militaris or De
re militari. In this work, Vegetius (probably a high-ranking imperial officer) sought to
explain how Roman armies from the golden times of the great Republican legionnaires
and the Later Roman Empire were recruited, how they were internally organized, how
they trained, and how they acted.23 What is more, Vegetius’s treatise was, in the words
of Christopher Allmand,24 a medieval best-seller: it was definitely referenced by two
hundred and twenty-six complete Latin manuscripts, making Vegetius the most copied
classical author in the European West until 1300, followed by Cicero, Ovid, and Virgil.
If the number of copies is taken together, not only the Latin manuscripts (complete or
not) but also their translations into at least eight vernacular languages (Anglo-Norman,
French, Italian, English, Castilian, Catalan, German, and Judeo-German), then the total
reaches more than three hundred and twenty manuscripts, with dates situated between
the seventh and nineteenth centuries with almost all (around ninety-four percent) from
before 1500.25
These figures explain the diffusion of the Vegetian treatise across western erudite
circles of the Middle Ages. Epitoma rei militaris speaks of a standing army (something
that was not present in the European Middle Ages until the middle of the fifteenth
century), an infantry-based army (which contrasts with the core of medieval armies)
and whose elite (the legionnaires) were recruited from the peasantry and the harsh
20 Strickland, War and Chivalry, 43n69.

21 Rogers, “The Vegetian ‘Science of Warfare’,” esp. 3.
22 Gillingham, “‘Up with Orthodoxy!’,” 149–58, esp. 153.
23 Vegetius, Epitoma Rei Militaris, ed. Reeve (2004), with an English translation, with notes and
introduction by N. P. Milner, Vegetius: Epitome of Military Science. A Portuguese translation is by
João Gouveia Monteiro and José Eduardo Braga, Vegécio, Compêndio da arte militar (Coimbra:
Imprensa da Universidade de Coimbra, 2009).
24 Allmand, “The Fifteenth-Century English Versions,” 30–45, esp. 32; and Allmand, The De Re
Militari of Vegetius.
25 Reeve, “The Transmission of Vegetius”, 251; Richardot, Végèce et la culture militaire, 19 and
191–93; and Allmand, “The Fifteenth-Century English Versions,” 32.

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est urban manual professions, recognizing their hardness and skills (and not therefore
based on birth or lineage). However, the Middle Ages knew how to make its adapta
tions (see the Siete Partidas of Afonso X of Castile–Leon, regarding the choice of horse
men26) and absorbed those parts of Vegetius’s message that interested them the most.
As Allmand showed, in his monumental study in 2011 on the reception and legacy of
the Roman treatise, the marginalia left by medieval copyists and translators show that
the Epitoma was seen not as a work from antiquity, but as a living text full of (military
and political) teachings that were useful to medieval readers. That alone explains his
popularity, facilitated by the fact that the Roman author was also a Christian. The church
incorporated precepts from Vegetius in its collections of sermons and exempla, taking
advantage of the (almost monastic) recommendations of frugality, tenacity, contempt
for death, defence of the public good, and obedience to the Christian oath.
At the time of the battle of Aljubarrota (1385), a considerable part of Vegetius’s
message was still relevant for the growing monarchies: the apologia for a disciplined
and well-trained army, exclusively in the service of the central power; distrust of troops
of mercenaries; the importance of fortification; the value of attritional warfare and its
logistics, connected with land defences and other natural elements; and even many spe
cific tactical precepts, including various combat formations (such as square, wedge, or
pincer formations, which reappear in the Siete Partidas27) along with multiple examples
of practical advice—careful observation of the adversary, preparation of the morale of
the troops, taking advantage of the terrain, use of surprise, maintaining secrecy in plan
ning movements, respect for the chain of command, and so on. Even from the point of
view of armaments and their management, some of the solutions advocated by Vegetius
in the fifth century still maintained, mutatis mutandi, a certain degree of relevance at
the end of the fourteenth century: mail shirts, shields, spears, slings, crossbows, swords,
handled mainly as stabbing weapons, siege mantelets, and battering rams, among other
pieces of equipment for the warriors.
As Peter Russell put it, if the Middle Ages did not produce its own art of war until
very late, to a large extent this was due to the fact that the Europeans in the Middle Ages
saw no reason to abandon Vegetius.28 And the truth is we know that, right across the
Middle Ages, Epitoma rei militaris seems to have been useful to medieval commanders
and treatise writers. This has been demonstrated in the important studies by Bernard
Bachrach (who analysed the cases of Freculf of Lisieux, Rabanus Maurus, Foulque Nerra,
and Geoffrey Plantagenet, in the Early and Central Middle Ages)29 and Philippe Rich
ardot (who dealt with John of Salisbury, Giles of Rome, Vincent of Beauvais, and Chris
26 Afonso X, Las Siete Partidas, particularly Titles 21 to 23 of the “Segunda Partida,” fols. 70–91.
27 Afonso X, Las Siete Partidas, “Segunda Partida,” Tí�tulo 23, Ley 16, fols. 86v–87.
28 Peter Russell, “The Medieval Castilian Translation of Vegetius, Epitoma de rei militaris: An
Introduction,” in Spain and its Literature. Essays in Memory of E. Allison Peers, ed. Anne L. Mackenzie,
Modern Humanities Research Association, Textual Research and Criticism 15 (Liverpool: Liverpool
University Press, 1997), 49–63 at 53.
29 Bachrach, “The Practical Use of Vegetius,”

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tine de Pisan, in the Later Middle Ages).30 At the end of the Middle Ages, people listed
as possessing a copy of Epitoma (in Latin or in translation) included popes and other
princes of the Church, kings and great lords throughout the European West, military
leaders, active men of war and condottieri, writers, humanists, doctors, public notaries
and jurists, among many others.31
In order for us to better understand the dilemmas and decisions of the generals at
Aljubarrota, it is worth remembering Vegetius’s position with regard to pitched battles.
In Book 3 of his treatise, Vegetius addresses the issue of pitched battles several times.
The essence of his doctrine on this matter is contained in the following precepts:
–– “[A]pitched battle is defined by a struggle lasting two or three hours, after
which all hopes of the defeated party fall away” (chap. 9);
–– “For good generals do not attack in open battle where the danger is mutual, but
do it always from a hidden position, so as to kill or at least terrorize the enemy
while their own men are unharmed as far as possible” (chap. 9);
–– “[The general] should deliberate whether it is expedient for the crisis to be pro
longed or fought out more swiftly. For sometimes the enemy hopes that the cam
paign can be ended quickly, and if it becomes long-drawn out, is either reduced
by hunger, or called back to his own country by his men’s homesickness, or
through doing nothing significant is compelled to leave in despair…” (chap. 9);
–– “Be careful never to lead a hesitant and frightened army into a pitched battle”
(chap. 9);
–– “So let the general be watchful, sober and discreet. […] If he finds himself supe
rior in many particulars, let him be not slow to enter a battle favourable to him
self. If he recognizes that the enemy is stronger, let him avoid a pitched battle,
because forces fewer in numbers and inferior in strength carrying out raids and
ambushes under good generals have often brought back a victory” (chap. 9);
–– “Our analysis of military science invites us to consider the hazard of the general
engagement, the fateful day for nations and peoples. For total victory depends
upon the outcome of an open battle. Therefore this is the time when generals
should exert themselves all the more, in proportion as the vigorous may hope
for greater glory, and worse peril dogs the slack. This is the moment when appli
cation of skill, theory of warfare and planning dominate” (chap. 11);
–– “Explore carefully how soldiers are feeling on the actual day they are going to
fight. […] Do not be fully confident if it is the recruits who want battle, for war
is sweet to the inexperienced. You will know to postpone it if the experienced
warriors are afraid of fighting” (chap. 12);
30 Richardot, Végèce et la culture militaire, 78–84.

31 Allmand, “The Fifteenth-Century English Versions,” 44 and 136–44; Allmand, The De Re Militari
of Vegetius, 63–80; and Richardot, Végèce et la culture militaire, 48–54.

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–– “In all battles the terms of campaign are such that what benefits you harms the
enemy, and what helps him always hinders you” (chap. 26);
–– “It is better to subdue an enemy by famine, raids and terror, than in battle where
fortune tends to have more influence than bravery” (chap. 26);
–– “Bravery is of more value than numbers” (chap. 26);
–– “Terrain is often of more value than bravery” (chap. 26);
–– “He who does not prepare grain-supplies and provisions is conquered without
a blow” (chap. 26);
–– “Good generals never engage in a general engagement except on some advanta
geous occasion, or under great necessity” (chap. 26);
–– “It is a powerful disposition to press the enemy more with famine than with the
sword” (chap. 26).32
This demonstrates why the “Gillingham paradigm” is related to Vegetius’s treatise. The
relative scarcity of pitched battles in the Middle Ages, their rarity in the careers of the
major military leaders, the certainty that medieval generals knew and successfully car
ried out other forms of strategy (based on indirect approximation, a war of attrition, and
logistical weakening), the widespread dissemination of the Epitoma in learned circles,
the nature of some of Vegetius’s precepts on pitched battles, and on the existence of
alternative ways of obtaining victory in the military campaign explain why pitched bat
tles were avoided.
Reaction against the “New Orthodoxy”

The historical “new orthodoxy” has been influential, particularly the assertion that
medieval commanders were eager to avoid pitched battles whenever possible, due to a
large and varied number of reasons, three of which can be emphasized:
a) the enormous risks (strategic, political, and even physical) which pitched battles
entailed;33
b) the impossibility of controlling all the variables (military, mental, or other) from
the moment when physical contact between the opposing lines was established;34
c) the limited gains that a victory in open combat could yield (e.g., the battle of
Zalaca, in 1086, with the victory of the Almoravid caliph over Alfonso VI of Castile–
Leon), especially if the defeated party had good fortifications in its rear-guard to
where it could withdraw and from where it could resist for a long time, forcing the
enemy into mobilizations involving considerable human and financial resources.35
32 Vegetius: Epitome, trans. Milner, bk. 3, chaps. 9, 11, 12, and 26.
33 Strickland, War and Chivalry, 43.
34 Strickland, War and Chivalry, 43.
35 Gillingham, “Richard I and the Science of War”, 198–99. Stephen Morillo (“Battle Seeking,”

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Under this logic, where the whims of fate made the result of a battle unpredictable
(and left open the possibility of a disastrous defeat, such as that suffered by Harold
Godwinson at Hastings in 1066) and where, even in victory, the relation between defen
sive and offensive resources in siege warfare was so favourable to the former that a vic
tory in battle could in the end mean very little (forcing the victors then, one by one, to
besiege rebel fortresses, in a true “Sisyphean task,” in the words of Stephen Morillo36), it
was natural that medieval generals opted for other strategic alternatives.
Battles would therefore appear something to be avoided, especially when other
forms of war were available: devastation of the enemy’s territory, destruction of the eco
nomic and logistical resources of the adversary (barns, houses, mills, furnaces, presses,
etc.), capture of cities, sabotaging supply routes and, of course, weakening the enemy’s
human resources (by carrying out, for example, surgical attacks causing deaths and the
taking of prisoners). There was also the possibility of initiating actions to undermine
the unity and morale of the adversaries, a tactic equally dear to Vegetius: “It is (also)
the mark of a skilled general to sow seeds of discord among the enemy. For no nation,
however small, can be completely destroyed by its enemies, unless it devours itself by its
own feuding” (bk. 3, chap. 10).
A pitched battle was only a last resort, when it could not be avoided (as happened
to the caliph al-Nasir at Las Navas de Tolosa in 1212),37 or when the superiority of one
of the parties appeared to be so overwhelming that it seemed almost blasphemous not
to seize the opportunity to bring the burden of divine judgement upon the adversary.
The marriage between a new approach to medieval military history and a strategic
premise inspired by Vegetius that was based on the principle of annihilating the enemy
by wear, tear, and hunger, rather than by iron and pitched battles, seemed perfect. But
it raised a set of interesting objection, led by a major specialist in the art of medieval
warfare (Clifford Rogers, from the West Point Military Academy) and included in the
opening article in the first issue (in 2002) of the Journal of Medieval Military History, one
of the most fruitful publishing projects in modern medieval military historiography.38
In short, Rogers—whose studies on the English campaigns in Scotland and France
during the reign of Edward III (1327–1377)39 had already made him sceptical of the
unwillingness of medieval generals to wage a pitched battle—refuted the idea that
fighting a pitched battle was a secondary option, or even a solution of last resort
23–24), states that Vegetius’s strategy gives a central role to fortifications in the defence of a
territory (“Logistic warfare; a central role for fortifications; a resulting paucity of battles: Vegetian
strategy in a nutshell” (24)). In this sense, as the same author adds (41), Capetian France (with
an early castle and kingdom structure “stitched together” by “foreign conquest”) was much more
Vegetian than England (from early on a unified kingdom with early centralization and where the
construction of forts only gained force after the Norman conquest of 1066).
36 Morillo, Warfare under the Anglo-Norman Kings, 149.
37 Garcí�a Fitz, Las Navas de Tolosa, 99; and Alvira Cabrer, Las Navas de Tolosa 1212, especially
chap. 3.
38 Rogers, “The Vegetian ‘Science of Warfare’.”
39 See, in particular, Clifford Rogers, War Cruel and Sharp. English Strategy under Edward III,
1327–1360 (Woodbridge: Boydell, 2000).

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amongst the portfolio of tactics at their disposal of medieval military commanders. He

asked: can a battle be disastrous, or useless, for both parties? If one of the adversar
ies assumes (or is forced to assume) the risk of a battle and loses, suffering serious
harm (political, military, financial, territorial, or other), then must the other adversary
automatically gain from this? For Rogers, “battle cannot be, on general principle, both
unprofitable for the winning side and disastrous for the defeated party.”40 Under the
actual terms proposed by Vegetius who, as has been seen, recommends us to do every
thing that our enemy would like us not to do, “if it is to one side’s advantage that no bat
tle take place, it must generally be in the other side’s interest that a battle should take
place. If one commander wishes to avoid battle, we would expect his enemy to try to
seek it, barring special circumstances.”41 Rogers also recalls that, along with the recom
mendations advising prudence, in which Vegetius is fertile, the Roman treatise writer
himself acknowledges that “total victory depends upon the outcome of an open battle”
(see above) and advises the general not to miss a good opportunity to wage a pitched
battle and not to postpone the start of an advantageous battle, especially if you wish to
accelerate the end of the conflict.42 In his contestation of the “Smail–Gillingham para
digm,” Rogers also states that, contrary to what had been thought, the detailed study
of the movements of Edward III and the Black Prince in France shows that they were
consistent with what the two leaders conveyed in their letters, stating that the goal of
their strategy in any campaign they were involved in was “to make an end to the war by
battle.”43 And, indeed, a review of the Battle of Crécy, carried out by a group of research
ers coordinated by Andrew Ayton and Michael Preston, provided the realization that
Edward III may have followed a deliberate plan, seeking to engage the enemy on ground
advantageous for the English.44
Rogers also argues that many paradigmatic cases of armies that defeated invading
forces without taking great risks, through shadow attacks, reinforcement of garrisons,
laying waste of land, cutting lines of communication, and ambushes, were carried out
by defensive hosts who were successful because they avoided pitched battles, and pre
vented their opponents having the chance of a decisive victory.45 In addition, the applica
tion of a “Vegetian defence” was easier to achieve (due to the greater shortage of food
resources) in the winter than the summer (the “season of war”), presupposing a rea
sonable network of fortifications (something that did not exist, for example, in England
in 1066) or difficult terrain (as in Scotland and certain parts of the Iberian Peninsula),
while being riskily dependent upon the loyalty and motivation of the garrisons to keep
resisting.46
40 Rogers, “The Vegetian ‘Science of Warfare’,” 9.

42 Rogers, “The Vegetian ‘Science of Warfare’,” 7 esp. n22.
44 Ayton, The Crécy Campaign, 37.
46 Rogers, “The Vegetian ‘Science of Warfare’,” 9–11.

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In conclusion, for Rogers it is an exaggeration to say that medieval strategy appears

to have been dominated by “fear of a pitched battle.” According to him, “we must rank
direct battle on the same plane with sieges and devastation as one of the main tools of
the strategists of the Middle Ages.”47 Several historical examples show that only through
a pitched battle was it possible to obtain certain wide-ranging strategic results. Could the
Crusader States of the Near East have been created in 1097–1099 without the victories
achieved at the battles of Nicaea and Dorylaeum (in 1097), and of Antioch (1098) or
Ascalon (1099)? Have not various defeats in battle by armies responding to invasions
of their territory opened up the path for their adversaries to achieve political objec
tives which by any other means would have been unattainable? Think of Dupplin Moor
(1332), Poitiers (1356), or Agincourt (1415): battles which resulted in the coronation
of Edward Balliol at Scone, the occupation of one-third of France by the English (Treaty
of Brétigny–Calais, 1360), and the conquest of Normandy by Henry V, followed by the
Treaty of Troyes (1420).
On the contrary, an emotive victory by a defending army in a pitched battle against
an invader can acquire a special political and military importance. That was the case
for Harold Godwinson (who defeated Harald Hardrada, the King of Norway, at Stam
ford Bridge in 1066), or King Stephen of England (who put an end to the Scottish inva
sion at Northallerton, the Battle of the Standard, in 1138), or the Emperor Rudolph I of
Habsburg (who in 1278, on the Marchfeld, stopped the invasion of Austria by the King of
Bohemia, Ottokar II, who died while escaping), or Robert Bruce (who ensured the Scot
tish victory over the English of Edward II at Bannockburn in 1314), or the Swiss Con
federation force (who defeated Leopold of Austria near the Morgarten pass in 1315), or
also, of course, João I of Portugal (who put an end to Castilian ambitions at Aljubarrota
in 1385).48 Lisois d’Amboise, seneschal of Geoffrey Martel (the son of Fulk III, Count of
Anjou), when arguing with his leader before the Angevin victory at Tours over Theobald
I, Count of Blois (1385), rightly proclaimed: “Battles do not last long,” “but the victors
secure the greatest possible gains. […] [B]attles put peoples and cities under subjection
to you, and those who are defeated in battle dissipate before their enemies like smoke.”49
So, Rogers concludes, “it is clear that battle could well be as decisive in the Middle Ages
as in other periods, which disposes of the idea that medieval battles were rare because
they were unprofitable for the victors.”50
What this Means for Aljubarrota

Rogers’ attack on the Vegetian “new orthodoxy” and the “Gillingham paradigm” of
course elicited reactions, both in the inaugural issue of the Journal (as in the case of

49 Rogers, “The Vegetian ‘Science of Warfare’,” 12; and Bachrach, “The Practical Use of Vegetius,”
244 (the conversation is taken from Gesta Consulum, a chronicle of the counts of Anjou, written
approximately one century after the events which it relates).

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Stephen Morillo51) or in the next issue (through John Gillingham himself52). Let us exam
ine the arguments with a fine-tooth comb. The important thing, in order to better under
stand what happened at Aljubarrota, is to highlight that the debate was worthwhile and
led to the development of what Morillo called “the Vegetian paradigm modified,” which
began to recognize “a regular place for battle.”53 Such a development, Morillo stated,
now allowed for the description of “much medieval European warfare, as well as much
warfare beyond Europe throughout the pre-modern world.”54 Of course, it will always
be necessary to understand the precise concept of pitched battle (something that is not
as simple as appears at first sight); to (as Gillingham underlines55) know how to distin
guish between the strategic planning of operations and tactical opportunities which may
occasionally arise during a campaign (leading to the somewhat fortuitous formation
of a pitched battle); and to note the subtlety in being able to separate a battle seeking
strategy and another merely offering to threaten battle as the expression of a psycho
logical game, and for which studies have been developed that have allowed us to learn
about many more individual military careers in detail. But we must now be ready to
accept the pitched battle not as an activity foreign to medieval warfare, but rather as one
among other resources available to the respective generals, but a resource of extraordi
nary value (and therefore, used sparingly and highly selectively). Its great rarity (when
compared with the frequency of predatory incursions or sieges) does not result only
from the added risk which a pitched battle always involves,56 but from the fact that a
battle, in order for it to take place, requires that both parties wish to have it or, at least,
agree to fight it.
What can lead an army strategically placed on the defensive to take the initiative to
risk a pitched battle? At this point, Rogers recalls that “many of the great battles of the
Middle Ages were fought, on the strategically defending side, by rulers who had recently
claimed, reclaimed, or usurped their thrones.”57 For example, the Byzantine emperor
Alexios I Komnenos at Dyrrachium (in 1081); Guy of Lusignan, King of Jerusalem, at
51 Morillo, “Battle Seeking,” 21–41.

52 Gillingham, “‘Up with Orthodoxy!’,” 149–58.
53 Morillo, “Battle Seeking,” 28.
54 Morillo, “Battle Seeking,” 28. In fact, the “Vegetian strategy” also applies to the classical world
(think of the movements of Fabius Maximus against Hannibal Barca during the Second Punic War),
or the Byzantine world (in particular the defensive strategy carried out between the sixth and tenth
centuries) (Morillo, Warfare under the Anglo-Norman Kings, 24). We can also invoke here suggestive
parallels between some of Vegetius’s precepts and certain maxims of Sun Tzu’s Art of War, written
in China in the fifth or seventh century BCE. Many of the precepts of Epitoma are timeless and stem
from simple common sense, especially in sedentary pre-modern societies, where interaction with
nature (geography, agricultural productivity, seasonality, etc.) is more intense and technological
constraints are much more limited.
56 Keegan, O Rosto da batalha, 52–54. John Gillingham also emphasized how fear could condition
the general’s decision to risk a pitched battle (cf. Gillingham, “William the Bastard at War”, 148; and
“‘Up with Orthodoxy!’,” 154).

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Hattin (in 1187); Robert Bruce of Scotland at Methven (in 1306) and at Loudoun Hill
(in 1307); Henry II of Trastâmara at Nájera (in 1367); or João I at Aljubarrota (in 1385).
At the outset, none of these monarchs would have had the necessary political capital
to mount a Vegetian defensive strategy. Such a dynamic could occur when a divided
regency ruled in the name of a lesser king (the cases of the battles of Dupplin Moor in
1332 or Halidon Hill in 1333), or when there was an absent king (as in Falkirk in 1298),
or a mad king (as with Charles VI of France at Agincourt in 1415), which meant the fac
tion that dominated the regency could not afford to show signs of weakness.58
At the same time—and this is essential for understanding the battle of August 14,
1385—the pride and honour of the political leaders could also influence the decision to
offer or accept battle, both for those who took the initiative to attack as for those who
were defending. This was not only because honour and prestige were significant values
in medieval societies, but also because those values could influence the loyalty between
governors and governed, and put into question the balance of forces during the mili
tary campaign. As Rogers recalls, the anti-battle strategy used by Philippe VI of France
against Edward III of England, at the start of the Hundred Years’ War, undermined the
popularity of the first King of Valois with the warrior nobility of France.59 I’m not pro
posing the old, distorted idea that medieval leaders followed the impulses of their hearts
and were incapable of reasoning in terms of wide-ranging strategy. It is rather a case
of understanding that honour and reputation (and even, as Morillo argues,60 religious
imperatives and superstitions) were important aspects in carrying out diplomacy and
domestic policies, which conditioned the image and popularity of political and military
leaders, and which, therefore, impacted on personal, familial, and vassal relationships,
in helping to organize camps and parties. Just as sentiment or the obligation to defend
one’s honour could drive an army into battle, strategically dishonourable behaviour
could discredit a leadership and generate disloyalties and changes of obedience at cru
cial moments in a campaign. And while, as Gillingham noted,61 a Vegetian defence also
provided many opportunities for acts of courage and could involve a large number of
fights, a battle always created a majestic scene. So, the character of the leaders helped
decide between promoting or avoiding battle, and tension always existed between one’s
value-system and unavoidable operational circumstances, as seems to have been the
case with Philippe Augustus at Bouvines, in 121462.
Factors of a more prosaic nature could influence a hesitant and at the outset weaker
faction to risk a pitched battle. In particular, the danger of the serious depredation of its
territory. As Vegetius once said, “[the general] should deliberate whether it is expedient
for the crisis to be prolonged or fought out more swiftly.” In the event of an invasion, or
civil war, the risk of destruction of the territory and its productive resources could be

62 Morillo, “Battle Seeking,” 35–36.

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such that opting for a speedy decision would make sense. Those who attacked could
also find themselves in a situation where the maintenance of their army (salaries, sup
plies, discipline, etc.) was so difficult after a few weeks of campaign that the prospect of
a drastic military solution could, at a certain moment, present itself as an unexpected
opportunity.63
Before moving on to the specific case of Aljubarrota in 1385, two comments should
be added. Firstly, none of the behavioural scenarios mentioned above necessarily con
tradicts the carrying out of a “Vegetian type” strategy, since—as Stephen Morillo64 and
John Gillingham65 have emphasized—this is in itself not only a proactive strategy
(implying careful planning, careful observation of the adversary, repeated attacks, etc.),
but also a strategy that does not preclude a pitched battle, for example in circumstances
of great tactical superiority.
Secondly, identifying possible tactical superiority often depended on the relation
ship of the forces involved on the battlefield. As Rogers wrote, if open battles were rare
in the Middle Ages, it “was usually because one side did want a battle on a fair field,
but the other did not, and was able to avoid it.”66 In 1333, at Halidon Hill, for example,
Edward III of England managed to occupy a position “where a single man might defeat
three [Scots],” because of the final steep access to the English position.67 Much was
involved, therefore, in the early choice of the battle terrain, in the ability to force the
adversary to fight in that place, and prior observation of the conditions proposed by the
other party.
As Clifford Rogers summarized, “it was common in medieval warfare for the side
which most eagerly wished to fight a battle to be given the opportunity to do so by its
adversary, but only under cripplingly disadvantageous tactical circumstances”; there
fore, “it was quite common in medieval warfare that both sides were willing to offer
battle […], even though neither side was willing to attack the enemy on ground of the
defender’s choosing. […] If both sides were willing to fight on their own ground, but nei
ther was willing to fight on ground chosen by the enemy, then the likely result was that
no battle would take place, and situations of this sort go a long way towards explaining
the frequency of campaigns without battle in the late Middle Ages.”68

65 Gillingham, “‘Up with Orthodoxy!’,” 152.

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Chapter 3
THE DECISION TO FIGHT AT ALJUBARROTA
So why was there a pitched battle at Aljubarrota? What led two royal armies to
settle an old quarrel in a very short space of time, in a pitched battle that they both
knew would be decisive? Why did the two monarchs not opt for a Vegetian-type strat
egy, which was suggested to both by many of their counsellors? To what extent can the
“modified Gillingham paradigm” be applied to the specific case of São Jorge?
The Political Circumstances

Let us start by considering the situation of both parties at the start of August 1385. On
the side of João I of Portugal, we have a very fragile political-military position, due to a
recent and hotly disputed enthronement (at the Cortes de Coimbra) and the existence
of a divided kingdom, where a great number of fortresses, particularly close to Lisbon
(such as the well-protected Santarém), supported his adversary. This viewpoint was
aggravated by a clear inferiority of military and financial resources, which made the
political cause of the ex-Master of Avis dependent on support from England. Added to
all this was the conviction that it would be difficult to withstand a Castilian attack on the
capital, since Lisbon (considered the key political and military location in the kingdom)
was ill-prepared to resist a new siege.
The Portuguese king had in his favour the fact that the invasion of Portugal by Juan
I constituted a violation of the 1383 agreements which underwrote Leonor Teles’s
regency. As Suárez Fernández has shown, Juan I of Castile, a member of the House of
Trastámara moved beyond the strategies of his father, Enrique II, who sought matrimo
nial alliances with all the ruling houses of the Iberian Peninsula, into a desire to dynasti
cally absorb Portugal. In doing so, he acted in a premeditated way, signing agreements
that he had no intention to comply with and seeking the conquest of the Lusitanian
throne without respecting the treaties signed shortly before the death of King Fernando.
This despite the warnings—according to the chronicler López de Ayala—which were
given to him by some of his counsellors at Puebla de Montalbán.1
The behaviour of Juan I allowed the Master of Avis to consolidate a small but united
party, with a combative and ambitious core made up of individuals who had little to
lose in social and patrimonial terms. In addition, “they were playing at home,” knew the
terrain well, and had been encouraged by the military victories over the Castilians at
1 Luis G. de Valdeavellano, Historia de España antigua y medieval, Vol. 2, Del siglo X a las Navas de
Tolosa (Madrid: Rialp, 1976), esp. 386; Suárez Fernández, Historia del reinado de Juan I de Castilla;
Suárez Fernández, Juan I de Trastámara; Baruque, Enrique II; and Ayala, Crónica del rey don Juan,
Año Quinto, chap. 9, 551–52.
Atoleiros (April 1384) and Trancoso (May 1385), which had shown that their adversar
ies were not invincible. Finally, João I of Portugal, thanks to insistent diplomatic pressure,
was able to count on support from England, a kingdom which wished to reverse Castile’s
political support of France in the Hundred Years’ War. This support had already resulted
in the arrival at Easter 1385 of four English boats in Lisbon, Porto, and Setúbal. These
contained mercenaries (a total of six hundred and forty soldiers, including archers and
footmen, as Peter Russell has shown), who were later joined by an Anglo–Gascon contin
gent, probably smaller but full of veterans from Anglo-French combats.2
How did things stand for Juan I of Castile? In favour of the leader of the largest Ibe
rian kingdom were potentially much greater human and financial resources which could
be mobilized, the fact that he was married to the only legitimate child of former King
Fernando I (which guaranteed considerable support within the nobility in Portugal),
and a reasonable knowledge of Portuguese territory. In addition, the Castilian fleet had
been blocking Lisbon by sea since April 1385, readied for a new major siege on the
already weak capital. The Castilian king could also count on the support of Charles VI
of France who, anxious to preserve the alliance that had existed with Castile since the
1360s, would have granted Juan I’s request and given him an estimated eight to twelve
hundred well-equipped knights.
The main factors working against the Castilian king were the following: the lack of
experience of the Castilian military, who in the siege of Lisbon and in the battle of Tran
coso had suffered a bloodbath that López de Ayala numbered at more than two thou
sand men of arms;3 the opposition of a fierce, united and combative adversary, which
had already shown its worth at Atoleiros, Lisbon and Trancoso; and the physical weak
ness of the monarch, affected by seasonal fevers which required him to be transported
in a litter; added to which were the difficulties of commanding a large and diverse army
(and where, according to Froissart, there was a certain rivalry between the Castilian
troops and their French allies4).
2 Russell, “Os Ingleses em Aljubarrota.” The king of Castile himself, in his letter to the city of
Murcia fifteen days after the battle, confirmed the presence of “foreigners, both English and
Gascons” in the Portuguese army: Crónicas de los reyes de Castilla, ed. Rosell, Tomo Segundo,
“Adiciones à las Notas de la Crónica del rey Don Juan I,” no. 14, 151–52 (letter dated August 29,
1385).
3 Ayala, Crónica del rey don Juan, Año Séptimo, chap. 11, 591.
4 Froissart, Chroniques, ed. Mirot. Froissart composed two accounts of the battle of Aljubarrota:
one following a long interview with the Gascon knight Espan du Lion, in late 1388 at the court of
the Count of Foix, Gaston Fébus, at Orthez; and another, after a conversation with João Fernandes
Pacheco’s beleaguered knight in Middelburg (Zeeland, Netherlands), in mid- to late 1389. A
modern edition of Froissart’s chronicles was produced by Peter Ainsworth and Alberto Varvaro: for
the part relating to Portuguese events, see books 3 and 4 in their 2004 pocket edition of Froissart,
Chroniques.
The Decision to Fight at Aljubarrota 37
The Strategies
The pluses and minuses above was what information each general held in early August
1385. Let us now look at the strategies which resulted. For this reconstruction I will
combine two methods: first, by analysing the itineraries of both armies; second, by
recounting the testimonies of the three main chroniclers: Pero López de Ayala (an eye
witness of the campaign, and later a Chancellor of the king of Castile); Jean Froissart (a
contemporary who interviewed combatants from both parties); and Fernão Lopes (who
wrote his chronicles between 1415 and 1450, but who still knew many of those involved
in the battle and who visited the battlefield).
The itineraries of the rival armies leave little room for doubt. In June, Juan I was still
besieging Elvas and, after the defeat suffered by his captains at Trancoso, changed his
plans and—as we mentioned earlier—moved towards Ciudad Rodrigo, where he gath
ered a large number of his troops and assembled his war council. In the second week
of July, 1385, he decided to enter Portugal through Almeida, taking the normal “Beira
Road”: passing Pinhel, Trancoso, Celorico da Beira (where he waited for the arrival of
more troops and wrote his will), Mangualde, Mortágua, Mealhada, Coimbra and, finally,
Leiria (where he arrived on August 12, after making his way through Vila Nova de Anços
and Pombal, apparently avoiding the route via Penela, Alvaiázere, and Tomar in order to
avoid a direct clash with his adversary). On August 14, the Castilian column chose the
Roman road passing through Canoeira and Santo Antão, and then left this road to reach
the plateau of São Jorge and, from there, take the road up to Alcobaça, and then make a
detour (some seven hundred metres southwest of the current São Jorge chapel) towards
Porto de Mós, so as to reach Santarém by the shortest route.5
Given the progress of his enemy, João I of Portugal, who had captured Guimarães and
Ponte de Lima in May 1385 and then gone south to the Alentejo to follow developments
concerning the siege at Elvas, crossed the Tagus in a south–north direction and, as
already explained, by the end of July had set up his headquarters at Abrantes, where he
met with his council of war. Then, he advanced on Tomar and then to Ourém and Porto
de Mós (August 12). On August 14, early in the morning, the Anglo-Portuguese army
travelled the short distance (eight to ten kilometres) which separated Porto de Mós
from São Jorge and occupied the position chosen the day before, awaiting the arrival of
the Castilian column. The offensive attitude of the forces of João I and Nun’Á�lvares was
clear, with Nun’Á�lvares going in search of his adversary, trying to block his passage on
the plateau of São Jorge and forcing him to engage in battle.
The Castilian Councils of War

Let us now summarize information from the chroniclers regarding what happened in
the Portuguese and Castilian councils of war, where the strategies to be adopted were
5 The itineraries of the two contesting armies have been well reconstructed in the works of
A. Botelho da Costa Veiga, “De Estremoz a Aljubarrota”; and of F. Alcide de Oliveira, Aljubarrota
Dissecada.
being agreed. As for Castile, Chancellor López de Ayala6 stated that, in Ciudad Rodrigo,
the counsellors of Juan I were divided when asked by the monarchy if they should
invade Portugal “por su cuerpo” (that is, in person), or set up frontier posts in the border
counties. Some argued that the monarch should attack Portugal with all the resources
and personnel at his disposal, because not only would the “Master of Avis” not dare to
engage in combat (since he was lacking in men of arms) but also Lisbon was “so suffo
cated” by the castles around it, and by the fleet of ships and galleys which surrounded
it, that it would soon be the Castilian king’s. Other counsellors, however, were against
immediate entry into Portugal, making the following arguments:
–– the king was very sick;
–– the king had lost his most experienced men-at-arms at Lisbon and at Trancoso
the previous year, and the remaining captains were young and not very knowl
edgeable about war;
–– the Master of Avis was ready to “risk everything for his cause in a battle, since
he had no other choice,” and this is also what the two thousand men of arms and
the English archers accompanying them would recommend, since “there was no
alternative except risking everything in a battle”;
–– the knights and other soldiers from Castile who guarded the garrisons of San
tarém, Torres Vedras, Torres Novas, Óbidos, Alenquer, Sintra, and other places
around Lisbon were deserting, due to their salary having not been paid;
–– most of all, throughout the rest of 1385, the king “should practise a war of attri
tion,” sending a thousand men of arms to the county of Badajoz, another five
hundred to Galicia, another five hundred to the county of Alcântara (as far as
Ciudad Rodrigo) and that, from the fleet of galleys at Lisbon and the many ships
from Biscay and Castile (which had arrived with bread and other supplies), he
should supply Santarém and all the other towns and fortresses with “provisions
from the aforementioned boats, on account of the salary that was owed to them.”
As a result, everyone would be happy and ready to make war on Lisbon, a city in
which food was already scarce. In the meanwhile, Juan I should remain in Castile
and raise money to pay for all his supporters in the towns and castles of Portugal
and the officers in his frontier posts (adelantados);
–– so, attacked from many fronts, the Master of Avis would be unable to withstand
the pressure and the devastating incursions, since, in a short period of time,
Juan I would be able to cover the whole of Portugal;
–– if the king “received any good proposal for an agreement from Portugal,” they
advised him “to accept this.”
Given these contradictory opinions, the Castilian monarch decided he would enter
Portugal by destroying the land in the county of Beira as far as Coimbra, with the
6 Ayala, Crónica del rey don Juan, Año Séptimo, chap. 11, 590–94.
understanding that he would then return to his kingdom. However, as López de Ayala
explains “despite the monarch saying this, his real intention was to continue on until
Santarém.”
Both Ayala and Fernão Lopes provide an account of what happened at another Cas
tilian council of war, held in the region of São Jorge, a short time before the start of the
battle.7 They both state that the King of Castile was very ill8 and explain that, after con
ferring with Nun’Á� lvares in the Portuguese camp, the Castilian emissaries (including
Ayala) communicated to Juan I that, from what the Portuguese Constable had told them,
“we do not believe that neither his master nor he himself intend to do anything except
engage in battle.” Several Castilian counsellors suggested to the monarch that he remain
quiet and alert that day, which would force his adversaries either to abandon the advan
tageous position in which they had positioned themselves (the presence of two side val
leys would prevent the Castilian wings getting involved in the central area of the battle),
or retreat during the night, since they only had food for that day. Others argued that they
must avoid a confrontation, since (in the words of Lopes) they were “a few desperate
individuals” who “did not fear death nor cherish life,” which was extremely dangerous.
Moreover, victory against such an adversary would not give Juan I any particular glory,
while a defeat at their hands would make him “the most dishonoured King in the world”;
the best thing to do, therefore, would be to proceed to Santarém and then to Lisbon:
with this, his enemies would spread out and eventually disperse; and, having taken Lis
bon, the whole kingdom of Portugal would be conquered.9
Among the prudent counsellors was a chamberlain of the king of France, Jean de
Rye, a veteran of the Hundred Years’ War, who—according to Ayala (and repeated by
Lopes)—emphasized to the king that “the thing in the world which has the greatest
advantage to a man with regard to his enemy is to put himself in good order, both in war
and in battle”; this was obvious from the battles at Crécy (1346) and Poitiers (1356)
and there was no reason to repeat the errors of the French at Aljubarrota. In practice,
the adversary should be forced to come and “fight outside the advantageous position
where it had placed itself,” or disperse at night due to lack of food. The Portuguese Count
of Barcelos, João Afonso Telo, disagreed. It is interesting to see the arguments which
Leonor Teles’ brother used:
–– not only would it be honourable to fight (since it would not be so easy to wrest
the enemy from the position in which it had placed itself) but it would also be
dishonourable not to face an adversary who offered battle: “but to have them
before the eyes awaiting you with mockery and songs, and not dare to take them
with your hands [...], this seems to me strange mockery and is shameful to say”;
7 For what follows, see Ayala, Crónica del rey don Juan, chap. 14, 598–602; and Lopes, Crónica del
Rei Dom João I, Parte Segunda, chap. 35, 75–78 and chap. 36, 79–81.
8 In the letter quoted here to the city of Murcia, Juan I himself explained that he felt “con mucha
flaqueza, que avia catorce dias que ibamos [í�amos] de camino en litera [liteira, maca]” (Crónicas de
los reyes de Castilla, ed. Rosell, Tomo Segundo, no. 14, 152).
9 On the strategic importance of Lisbon, see Martins, A vitória do quarto cavaleiro, 15–16.
–– if the adversaries were already fearless, then they would be much more so when
they understood that the Castilians were afraid of facing them;
–– English military help was on the way, in addition to the reinforcements coming
from the nobles of Beira (winners at Trancoso), so it was better to fight while
the enemies did not have such additional support;
–– in any case, Juan I would not be able to avoid the fight, since the adversaries
would not let them get away, “but would go after them and bark, until you turn
to them and engage them in battle.”
Regarding Telo’s opinions, Fernão Lopes’ comments (whose words are quoted here)
that this was good advice, but Fortune “had already ordered things in another manner.”
For his part, Froissart, in his account of an interview with a Gascon knight in Orthez,
relates that Juan I assembled his counsel specifically to hear the opinion of the French
who were on his side.10 They counselled the king to immediately fight, while their camp
was in the mood. However, the Castilians thought it better to wait until the following
day: it was already late, they were not properly ordered, it was necessary to learn about
the disposition and movements of the adversary better (through spies and scouts) and
follow them if they moved during the night, since there was no other place this side of
Lisbon where they could entrench themselves. Given the hesitancy of Juan I, the French
marshal Regnault Limousin spoke, and he made a speech in which he humiliated the
Castilian knights for dishonouring their opinion, stating that if the Portuguese managed
to withdraw cautiously and they lost sight of them without combat, the people would
kill them, and the king would take away their lands and their heads. According to Frois
sart, the Castilian king liked this speech and decided upon fighting, although the mar
shal had spoken up for gallantry (“courage made him speak”), to please the knights and
squires eager to prove themselves at arms.
In the composite account (in Mirot’s reconstruction) from the Middelburg interview
with João Fernandes Pacheco, the Castilians recommended that the king carry out the
attack before the imminent arrival of English help, alleging that after obtaining victory,
all of Portugal would surrender to Juan I. In support of this opinion, they mainly praised
the knights of Béarn, who also wanted to fight their first pitched battle.11
The Animated Portuguese War Council

Let us now analyse the information we have of the Portuguese war council, which met
on August 5 and 6 in Abrantes. Ayala does not refer to this, but Fernão Lopes devotes
several pages to it.12 Lopes states that most of João I’s counsellors were against the idea
of battle, for the following reasons: first, it would be better to go down to the Alentejo
10 Froissart, Chroniques, ed. Mirot, bk. 3, para. 38, 151–54 and Froissart, Chroniques, ed. Ains
worth, 257–59.
11 Froissart, Chroniques, ed. Mirot, bk. 3, para. 91, 279; and para. 92, 282.
12 Lopes, Crónica del Rei Dom João I, Parte Segunda, chap. 30, 60–62.
and attack the Castilian county of Andalusia. As soon as Juan I would hear of this attack,
he would abandon his path to Lisbon to defend his own lands. And so, the Portuguese
king could return to Portugal another way, thus avoiding battle, “which was something
very dubious and extremely dangerous” (especially if Juan I arrived in a proud state and
with great power); second, in this way, “time would be eaten up,” providing time for the
English assistance to arrive, which was expected any day; or if not “they would come to
some agreements, and then peace and quiet could ensue.”
Fernão Lopes considered this advice understandable since, with the majority of the
Portuguese supporting the king of Castile, it would be very difficult to win the battle.
However, the Constable did not share this opinion. According to Lopes, Nun’Á� lvares
argued in this manner:
–– avoiding battle would be “lacking in spirit and a great cowardice,” which “would
break the hearts of the Portuguese who were expecting their defence, and would
give considerable strength to their enemies”;
–– if Juan I were allowed to reach Lisbon, “perhaps [the capital] would surrender to
him,” seeing itself once again in trouble; and, “with Lisbon lost, all the kingdom
would be lost”;
–– there was a “bad seed” in Lisbon: the Portuguese king had warned his faith
ful counsellor Álvaro Pais that the former treasurer of the house of Count Dom
Álvaro Peres de Castro, Fernando Anes, “had agreed to let the Castilians enter
through a gate in the city” and had sent Pais to bring justice to the guilty par
ties. Suspicious letters had also been intercepted from Juan I to Diogo Gomes
Sarmento, with references to letters from the Castilian king to the captain of
his fleet, Pero Afã da Ribeira. So, if Lisbon saw that João I was not helping it and
preferred to go to Seville “to cut down a couple of rotten olive trees,” willingness
to commit treason would grow in the hearts of the people of Lisbon, since “the
hunger in it is now greater than when the King of Castile had besieged it”;
–– Juan I would kill and rob at will upon entering Lisbon, and the Portuguese mon
archy would eventually have to become his vassal;
–– even this Andalusian incursion was of dubious efficacy, since “Seville is not a
village with just ten hearths”;
–– the possible help from the English reinforcements would be welcomed if they
arrived on time, but now “I see that this might only occur when it is time to see
to the wounded”;
–– if Juan I managed to lay siege to Lisbon, with the power he carried with him “it
will be difficult to be able to help; a city that is starving and without a captain,
and still [with] a bad seed in it.”
In conclusion, at the Abrantes council of war, Nun’Á�lvares stated that, “I would never let
[the Franco-Castilian enemy] reach Lisbon, but on the contrary, I would intercept him on
the way and challenge him to fight”; and he underlined that there was no alternative but
“to initiate battle and meet them on the field,” something which he had agreed with the
king when, in Guimarães, he had learnt of the Castilian offensive (it should be remem
bered that the fleet had been besieging Lisbon since April).
Having delivered his speech, Nun’Á�lvares abandoned the war council in a position of
strength, saying that he would leave Abrantes alone and that, along with his own men,
he would enter into battle with the king of Castile! At this moment, João I hesitated, but
the next day he reconvened the counsellors and informed them that he had decided to
support the Constable, for the following reasons:13
–– Juan I was on his way towards Santarém, where he would want to remain for
some months, sending messages to the garrisons which stood alone (such as
Sintra, Alenquer, and Santarém) so that each week they would approach the
walls of Lisbon, stealing food, burning, killing, and spoiling, until he himself
marched on the capital;
–– as a result, Lisbon would eventually give in, due to hunger and suffering; and in
this way the Castilian king would obtain the kingdom without a battle;
–– after Lisbon was captured, it would be difficult to help it, and “many of those
who are now here with me would not want to go there, or they could return to
their homes”;
–– the alternative of marching on Castile would be of no benefit;
–– if “we do not venture into battle,” this “accomplishment,” just as the Constable
argues, “the kingdom is completely lost, and all we have done up to now [will
have been] in vain”;
–– it is possible to win a pitched battle, since God can easily cause a few to emerge
victorious over many: “the victory in battle is not in the size of the army, but vic
tory [comes] from the sky”; and “has often happened, and happens every day, but
sometimes the few defeat the many”; therefore, the king ordered, “let us move
together [with the Constable and his men] and go in search of our enemies.”
Finally, Froissart, in his first report,14 says that the Portuguese were prepared to force a
battle because, on four-fifths of such occasions, the winner is the inviting side (as was
the case of the English in France): “naturally, one feels more strength and more courage
when attacking than when defending.” João I then asked advice from the three English
captains, who explained that in order to compensate for the numerical inferiority that
they had (one against four), they would have to gain advantage through the use of auspi
cious terrain, with hedges and thickets which could be fortified. In the second account
of the version edited by Mirot,15 Froissart says that the counsellors recommended João I
not to allow himself to be besieged in any city, otherwise the Castilians would have a free
14 Froissart, Chroniques, ed. Mirot, bk. 3, para. 36, 143–46 and Froissart, Chroniques, ed. Ainsworth,
252.
15 Froissart, Chroniques, ed. Mirot, bk. 3, para. 91, 280.
path to ride, conquer cities and castles, and destroy the “plat pays.” So, what would be
the solution? To give battle, because in order to peacefully enjoy the Crown of Portugal,
João I would have to defeat his rival: “You shall not be able to peacefully enjoy the Crown
of Portugal, which we have conferred on you, except following a battle and after, at least
once or twice, having brought your adversary—the King of Castile—and all his power
under your control.”
The information from the chroniclers confirms what we deduced from analysing
the itineraries of the two armies: the Castilians had adopted a strategy to advance
through Portuguese territory from the north to the south, until they reached Santarém,
from where they would later (suitably rested and reinforced) leave, heading for a Lis
bon duly weakened by the effects of the siege of the previous year, the blockade of the
fleet, and the success of devastating attacks that would have been carried out from
the garrisons of the region which had remained faithful to Juan I and Beatriz. At the
outset, battle had not, for Castile, been a strategic objective, and its occurrence had
been considered at São Jorge, in a second council of war, after encountering the Anglo-
Portuguese column.
The Portuguese, from an early stage, seem to have planned to cut off the progress of
the invader somewhere where it had already made considerable inroads into the king
dom but was still distant from its strategic objective (Santarém–Lisbon), thereby allow
ing room for recovery in the case of failure. But the intention to enter battle had been
clear since at least August 6 (one week before the ordeal), with it simply remaining to
choose the most favourable location.
The Leaders’ Dilemma and Decision-Making

We many now ask: could the generals have acted differently? What carried most weight
in their final decision and to what extent was this decision based on, or a contradiction
of, a Vegetian-inspired military strategy?
Let us first see the problem from the point of view of the Anglo-Portuguese army.
For them, it seems perfectly clear that there was no alternative to a pitched battle; firstly,
because João I was still in a fragile situation, from his recent and hardly unanimous elec
tion which, as we have seen from the examples from Rogers cited above, constituted a
classic case where a lack of political capital prevented a strategy of prolonged wear and
tear over the adversary requiring unwavering domestic support.
Secondly, any attitude that might have been perceived as fearful, or even disgraceful,
by his supporters and sympathizers, would have run the risk of provoking disloyalty
and betrayal, which would result in the surrender of (more) garrisons to the enemy,
changes and disobedience on the battlefield, and even disinterest by the English allies
in his cause.
Thirdly, João I had an insufficiently secure network of fortifications to undertake
a Vegetian resistance against his adversary. Lisbon, the key element according to the
chroniclers, was greatly weakened and seemed unlikely to withstand a second pro
longed siege. Fernão Lopes even mentions, referring to specific individuals, that betrayal
was already rampant, something which had also been visible at certain moments of
the siege in the previous year.16 Around Lisbon, many powerful garrisons had spoken
out in favour of Castile, thus threatening to frustrate any plan of this kind, while San
tarém—a particularly strong garrison—would offer his enemy an excellent place to base
his troops and supply them for a strong and sustained invasion of the capital. As such,
there was no use in the Anglo-Portuguese side riding into Andalusia. Even if successful,
it would not distract the king of Castile from his main objective, the seizure of Lisbon. If
João I left the scene he might just leave the way clear for the invader.
In this way, a battle was a last resort in the mind of the Portuguese general (Nuno
Á� lvares Pereira), following the theories of Gillingham and Morillo. The secret of the suc
cess of the August 14 operation—a well-planned opportunity which could not be squan
dered ingloriously—would be if it were possible to support it logistically (as seems to
have happened in collaboration with the Abbot of Alcobaça, who provided food, trans
port, and support during the day and night of the clash) and, above all, if the choice
of terrain could ensure a tactical advantage whilst not inhibiting the adversary from
accepting the battle that was being offered.
João I and Nun’Á�lvares therefore adopted a strategic attitude which Rogers, para
phrasing Clausewitz, calls “positive aim,” which was characteristic of those who were
not content with the present situation and aspired for a significant change to the status
quo.17 They did so in an extraordinarily deft manner, which gave the tactical initiative
to the adversary, and invited him to take that initiative into battle. One of the key factors
in infantry fighting in the Middle Ages is that the party which attacked almost inevitably
suffered exhaustion and rupture during their advance, to such an extent that as soon as
they reached the defenders’ resources, their own army was often on the verge of col
lapse and, in disarray, found itself vulnerable.
As Rogers recalls, Geoffrey of Monmouth (d. 1155), the famous transmitter of the
Arthurian legend, stated that “the side that stands firm in the first assault, achieves vic
tory in the end,” an observation that Jean de Bueil, an admiral of France, would second in
his autobiography Jouvencel (ca. 1461–1468).18
In short, the Anglo-Portuguese decision to go into battle at São Jorge can be attrib
uted to two main factors: first, the impossibility of using a conventional “indirect
approximation” strategy, due to the lack of political and military support (specifically
in terms of static defences); second, by making an early decision to wage battle as a
strategic element of the campaign, and aim (as Edward III did at Crécy) to locate oneself
on favourable terrain yet not so obviously that this would remove the adversary’s wish
to fight (and, in this aspect, the change in the Portuguese position was, as we will see,
remarkably cunning).19
16 On the 1384 siege of Lisbon, the standard work is now that of Martins, A vitória do quarto
cavaleiro.
19 See further Aljubarrota Revisitada, ed. Monteiro, and Monteiro, Aljubarrota 1385. See also
Duarte, Aljubarrota. Crónica dos anos de brasa.
Of course, in designing this overall plan, the advice and experience of the English
captains and mercenaries who accompanied Nun’Á� lvares was decisive and certainly
helped to lay out the system of defensive entrenchment which, as we will describe,
ensured victory. The Anglo-Portuguese side took a gamble, risked everything, and won.
Now, let us analyse the problem from the perspective of the Franco-Castilian army.
The issue is more complex, since it requires an explanation as to why it was that the
more powerful army, which had had no special interest in fighting before reaching
Santarém and Lisbon (the discussions in the two war councils are enlightening in this
regard), decided to fight a battle. I believe that this is characteristic of a pitched battle
which occasionally occurs even when a campaign has another strategic orientation. In
my opinion, three main factors came together to decide that an army coming from Lei
ria, tired from a cross-country march, and still not fully formed when the battle started,
accepted the challenge to carry out the attack.
Firstly, the Portuguese position, although strong, was not perceived as being insur
mountable. But the Castilian army did not properly reconnoitre the battlefield and
was unaware of the artificial obstacles which, we will see, had been opened up in the
ground. In their preparatory movements they thought they had forced the adversary
to return to a fall-back position and concluded that giving battle would not be a gross
error nor imprudent in the ways described by Vegetius. Moreover, engaging in battle
that day, before announced reinforcements from England and the Beiras had arrived,
could even have appeared advantageous, as several Castilian counsellors are reported to
have stated, comforted by the superior manpower and armaments of their army.
Secondly, several counsellors of Juan I were motivated by a sense of honour and—
as we can perceive from the statements allegedly from Count João Afonso Telo or Mar
shall Regnault Limousin—this shows the difficulty in deciding to avoid battle with such
a poorly regarded enemy. They also feared the psychological consequences avoiding a
battle might have on their supporters (especially those who had already deserted the
garrisons around Lisbon, due to lack of payment of their salary).
Thirdly, they had an intuition that refusing to fight and continuing towards Santarém
and Lisbon could be disastrous, since the communication line of the Castilian army
would be cut, and Juan I’s army would certainly, for dozens of kilometres, have an adver
sary at their heels. They were aware of the risk any army faced being attacked while
marching—that is, when in a particularly weak position to defend itself.
However, if we believe the reports of the chroniclers, a completely different hypoth
esis exists: having listened to this advice, the king decided to refuse to engage in battle,
but he was disobeyed! In his letter to the city of Múrcia, Juan I also wrote (perhaps to
justify the disaster): “But all our other people, such was their will to fight, began fighting
without our agreement.”20 If true, this would be an exceptional example of the inability
of a monarch in a feverish state to control and command his army and lead to a fatal
outcome. In this hypothesis, three additional factors may help to explain the slaughter:
(i) immaturity (well emphasized by López de Ayala) of a large percentage of the men of
arms in the service of Castile (as Vegetius stated, “war is sweet to the inexperienced”);
20 Crónicas de los reyes de Castilla, ed. Rosell, Tomo Segundo, no. 14, 152.
(ii) possible rivalry between the French and Castilian components of the king’s army
(as Froissart suggests); (iii) panic which arose after the attack on the Portuguese posi
tion, when the combination of the natural and artificial obstacles began to produce their
effects, a panic which medieval armies (temporary and without regular collective train
ing) had particular difficulty in dominating, especially in a battle fought almost at night
fall and where the possibilities of regrouping were slender. Whatever it was—and per
haps we will never know for sure—the Franco-Castilian army accepted the challenge,
attacked with an excess of confidence, and lost.
Chapter 4
THE DECISIVE BATTLE
Let us consider first what sources are available for reconstructing the Battle of
Aljubarrota.1 As well as the extensive account given by the greatest Portuguese chroni
cler, Fernão Lopes, the work of two other important chroniclers is available—the previ
ously cited Pero López de Ayala, chancellor of the Castilian king and eye witness at the
battle; and Jean Froissart, a French chronicler, who was familiar with English military
culture and author of two previously cited accounts of the battle,2 based upon interviews
conducted at the end of 1388 and beginning of 1389 (in Orthez) and at the end of 1389
or beginning of 1390 (in Middelburg). A description of the battle forms part of the anon
ymous text Crónica do Condestabre, written between 1431 and 1437 and which recounts
the life of Nuno Á� lvares Pereira. Also the Sumario de los Reyes de España, prepared by
Juan Rodrí�guez de Cuenca, the head purveyor of Juan I’s first wife and which, through a
mysterious hand, added between 1456 and 1460, provides reference to the battle.3 Then
we still have a valuable letter written in Seville on August 29, 1385, by Juan I, to the city
of Murcia, in which he provides an account of what happened in the battle.
But we have physical remains too. There is a chapel on the battlefield itself, initially
with the Virgin Mary and later St. George as its patron saint, which Nuno Á� lvares Pereira
had built in 1393. This has a genuine engraved stone4 which announces that, on the day
of the battle, the Constable’s flag (i.e., the vanguard of the army) was positioned at that
very spot.
Archaeological work carried out at São Jorge between 1958 and 1960 by Afonso do
Paço, reassessed in 1985 by Severino Lourenço, and continued in 1999 by Helena Cata
rino on a different part of the terrain, supplements our knowledge. More recently, Maria
Antónia Athayde Amaral, as part of the excavations prior to the extension of the Military
Museum on the battlefield (now the Centre for Interpretation of the Battle of Aljubar
rota), found a new ditch, located in the area which presumably corresponds to the
approximate position of the Anglo-Portuguese rear-guard.5 Finally, there are remains of
1 This chapter follows, with various modifications and updates, the author’s 2009 article (trans.
by Karen Bennett) “The Battle of Aljubarrota (1385): A Reassessment.”
2 In 2004 the Livre de poche published a new edition of the Chroniques by Peter Ainsworth and
Alberto Varvaro. In spite of its quality, I have decided to use the Léon Mirot edition from 1931 here,
as it provides a more detailed description of the battle and includes aspects (such as the presence
of a ditch and a stream) which are crucial for the reconstruction of the battle.
3 In Salvador Dias Arnaut, A Batalha de Trancoso (Coimbra: Faculdade de Letras, 1947), 74–75.
4 Mário Jorge Barroca, Epigrafia Medieval Portuguesa (862–1422), 3 vols. in 4 (Porto: Fundação
Calouste Gulbenkian, 2000), 2, pt. 2:1936–1944.
5 Amaral, “Os vestí�gios materiais da guerra,” 1: 521–37.
bones found by Afonso do Paço on February 21, 1958 in a common grave located near to
the chapel. These have been analysed by Eugénia Cunha with interesting results.
The Two Portuguese Positions

The exact point on the Leiria–Alcobaça road (or Porto de Mós) where João I barred the
Castilians’ path was not chosen at random. When the Portuguese army was stationed in
Porto de Mós on August 12, they used this opportunity to carry out a reconnaissance of
the locality, undertaken by the Constable accompanied by a hundred knights. Hence the
selection of the position to be occupied the following morning, to intercept the adver
sary’s march. Known as the “first Portuguese position,” this was located between Porto
de Mós and Leiria at the northern end of a small, flat plateau a few kilometres in length
(the São Jorge plateau) near the junction of two watercourses (the River Lena and the
Calvaria stream). The position was unassailable, as it was high (at an altitude of 110–115
metres) and could only be accessed by a steep slope with a gradient of one in ten (ten
percent) up the final four hundred metres. With the front and flanks protected by water
courses, this position, which faced north, would also mean that the enemy would have
the sun in their eyes.
As far as is known, this first position was not reinforced with artificial obstacles, but
the matter is only now being seriously researched, as part of the geophysical survey and
archaeological prospecting being carried out by Nuno Filipe Poí�nhas Pires, as part of
his 2019 doctoral dissertation, under the supervision of Rosa Varela Gomes (Nova Uni
versity of Lisbon) and João Gouveia Monteiro (University of Coimbra). Nuno Pires has
already carried out a rigorous and unprecedented investigation of the probable location
of the “first Portuguese position,” with initial geophysical prospecting and archaeologi
cal exploration. So far, no evidence of ditches or pits has been found, nor traces of arma
ments or other material remains.
In the early hours of August 14, the Portuguese army left Porto de Mós and travelled
approximately eight to ten kilometres to the site which had been chosen. By 9:30 that
morning, they were already at their first position.6 The men were arranged in battle for
mation (vanguard, rear-guard, and wings, with archers and crossbowmen ready for excel
lent shooting conditions), and were adapted to the irregularity of the terrain. They then
waited for their enemies to arrive. The head of the Castilian column, coming from Leiria,
arrived at the village of Jardoeira late in the morning. They had walked fewer than ten
kilometres to reach that point, a mile from the ridge occupied by their adversaries. Seeing
them, they halted and assessed their situation. In his letter to Murcia, Juan I says: “On that
day, they had been installed since morning in a strong position between two streams each
of which was some ten to twelve fathoms deep. When our men arrived there and saw
that we were unable to attack them from that side, we had to go around them to get to
6 On August 14, 1385, the sun rose in the Porto de Mós region at around 5:15 a.m. and went down
at 6:45 p.m. (true solar time). The day would certainly have been hot and dry along with a maximum
temperature in the shade of 25ºC. The wind, which was probably a north-northwesterly, would
have been weak (the average in the region: 4 m/second). See Oliveira, Aljubarrota Dissecada, 125.
The Decisive Battle 49
another site, which seemed to be flatter.”7 The Castilians therefore refused to attack their
adversary’s strong position, and when it was already after midday, they turned to the
southwest, along the old road heading towards Casal do Relvas. In other words, they went
around the Portuguese position by the easiest route until they could regain the road. At
Calvaria, they stopped and regrouped, then proceeded on their march until they halted on
a broad terrace near the village of Chão da Feira. As Juan I explains, “when we arrived at
that site, it was already the hour of vespers and our people were very tired.”8
The Portuguese army reacted, keeping sight of their objective of forcing combat:
“The king and the Constable were obliged to move from where they had organized their
lines, facing Leiria, and turned them towards where their enemies now were.”9 In other
words, they inverted their formation and moved two kilometres to the south, to occupy
what has come to be known as the “second Portuguese position.” The manoeuvre would
have taken approximately two to three hours, so it must have been around three o’clock
in the afternoon before Nuno Á� lvares’s army was installed in its final position. They had
lost several advantages with this move: they now had the sun in their eyes and were at
a slightly lower point than their adversaries (the São Jorge plateau drops by about one
in fifty or two percent from south to north). Despite this, the second position was also
a good one. It was located at a place where the plateau narrowed and was protected by
watercourses—to the west, the streams of São Jorge and Vale Madeiros (which flow into
the Amieira mill) and to the east, the stream of Carqueijal or Vale da Mata (a tributary
of the Calvaria, which in turn flows into the River Lena). These watercourses had gullies
in the terrain, and this was a factor which proved decisive. At the centre of this narrow
est part of the plateau lies the present-day chapel, replacing a small knoll that has since
been flattened and where the Constable established his position. The chapel is between
the two valleys, in the middle of a strip a few hundred metres wide and, looking at this
from the perspective of the attacking Castilian army (coming in a south–north direc
tion), there were few natural obstacles (merely a few trees).
The second Portuguese position, though less advantageous than the first, was still
strong. Though there were no natural obstacles before them, their flanks were well pro
tected, and this would require the Castilians to approach head-on in a small space that
was no more than three or four hundred metres wide. In his letter to Murcia, Juan I
says: “As soon as our men came face to face with them, they discovered three things: […]
the third was that the front of their formation was so surrounded by the arroyos that it
was no more than about three hundred and forty to four hundred spears wide.”10 The
Crónica do Condestabre recounts that the Castilian command sent some emissaries to
the Portuguese camp, including López de Ayala, to spy. However, Nuno Á� lvares imme
diately sent them back, threatening to shoot them with arrows if they did not leave.11
9 Lopes, Crónica del Rei Dom João I, Parte Segunda, chap. 38, 86.
11 Estoria de Dom Nuno Alvrez Pereyra, ed. Calado, chap. 51, 112–21.
Map 2: Preparatory
Manoeuvres on the
Battlefield.
Ayala also mentions this episode and explains that, upon his return, he warned Juan I
that “there are two valleys in front of your wings that cannot be crossed to attack your
enemies and support your vanguard.”12 Thus, the natural obstacles ultimately prevented
the Castilian wings from taking part in the battle, and this proved decisive for the final
outcome of the combat.
It is of course possible that, due to the likely reluctance of the enemy leaders to fight
in the first location offered to them, the possibility of moving to this second spot had
already been discussed the day before. Indeed, in leaving the road that they were fol
lowing to avoid the enemy, and re-joining it further to the south, where it was flatter, the
Castilians would probably have done so on the seaward side, which was by far the most
accessible route.
12 Ayala, Crónica del rey don Juan, Año Séptimo, chap. 14, 599: “ca las dos alas de los vuestros
tienen delante dos valles que non pueden pasar para acometer a vuestros enemigos e acorrer a los
de vuestra avanguarda.” That alert was seconded by the aforementioned French knight Jean de Rye,
chamberlain of Charles V and veteran of Crécy and Poitiers.
The Organisation of the Battlefield

The Portuguese army had at least a three-hour wait after setting up their final position
and before the battle started, so could use this time to hone its tactics. First, they pro
ceeded to cut down trees and pile up thick branches, with their sharp tips pointed out
wards, to make it even more difficult to attack their flanks and also to provide cover for
archers and crossbowmen. In the Orthez account, Froissart says that the knight Espan
de Lion explained to him that João I chose “a knoll surrounded by large trees and hedges
and thickets” for his combat position, and that he had ordered his men to “cut down the
trees and lay them crosswise,” in such a way that the enemy “could not charge at them
across flat ground.”13 In his letter, Juan I says that the first thing his men encountered
when they attacked was “a pile of cut-down trees, waist high.”14 The Sumario de los Reyes
de España also confirms this use of abattis, mentioning that, when they reached the
combat zone, Juan I found that the Portuguese monarch had prepared “a strong palisado
around his position.”15
The Portuguese army also dug ditches. This fact is not recounted by the Iberian
chroniclers, but the Castilian king’s letter to Murcia states that the second surprise his
men faced was encountering “in their front a trench so deep that it would cover a man up
to his throat.”16 Froissart (in the account by the Portuguese João Pacheco) also says that
“between them and us there was a small ditch, not so big that a horse could not cross
it, which gave us a certain advantage.”17 Before the battle, the Portuguese army must
have dug out a transversal ditch, not very deep, but deep enough to help them at the
start of the battle (as occurred at the Battle of the Golden Spurs at Kortrijk/Courtrai and
Bannockburn), and this was useful when the infantry engaged.18 During the archaeo
logical excavations of 1958–1960, Afonso do Paço discovered several different trenches
including a large ditch some hundred and eighty metres in length, which started a little
north of the chapel and curved down the eastern side, ending some eighty-five metres
southeast of the hermitage.19 This large ditch was made up of four sections (A, B, C, and
D). As we only have the lower part of this ditch, we do not know how deep it really was.
A little lower down (some hundred metres southeast of the chapel), Paço also found
other transversal trenches amongst an area of pits, at least one of which (L) was over
fifty metres long. These findings confirm the references in Juan I and Froissart, showing
13 Froissart, Chroniques, ed. Mirot, bk. 3, para. 37, 147–48: “[…] en une mote environnée de grans
arbres et de hayes et buissons. […] Lors firent-il au lez devers les champs abatre les arbres et
couchier de travers, afin que de plain on ne peust chevauchier sur eulx.”
15 Addendum to the Sumario de los Reyes de España, published in Arnaut, A Batalha de Trancoso,
74–75: “[…] é fecho un muy fuerte palenque al deredor de su real.”
17 Froissart, Chroniques, ed. Mirot, bk. 3, para. 93, 286: “entre eulz et nous avoit ung petit fossé, et
non pas grant, que ung cheval ne peust bien saillir oultre; ce nous fist ung petit d’avantaige.”
18 In this case, the Anglo-Portuguese army could also have taken advantage of the possible
existence of the bed of a creek there.
19 Afonso do Paço, “Escavações de carácter histórico no campo de batalha,” 41–45.
Map 3: Excavations on the Battlefield, showing excavations made by Afonso do Paço

in 1958–1960 (marked A to O) and by Helena Catarino in 1999 (marked Y).
that, after building the abattis, the Portuguese army also fortified its position by dig
ging long ditches, at least in the eastern and southern zones (the only ones which had
been excavated by 1958–1960). The aim would have been to break up the enemy ranks,
slow down their progress, and make sure that they were being constantly bombarded by
arrows, later pushing them into those holes in the foot combat phase. In 1999, Helena
Catarino found the outline of a new ditch, laid out in a southeast to northwest direction,
at a different part of the terrain (in the western sector: Y).20
Finally, the Portuguese army then appears to have dug small pits. Paço found, one
to two hundred metres south of the chapel, mixed with the ditches already mentioned,
eight hundred and thirty pits, aligned close to forty rows of sixty to eighty metres each,
parallel and distant from each other by only two metres (H, I, J). They do not have the
classic format, nor pointed stakes in the background. The largest ones are 1.40 metres
long, 0.70 metres wide, and 0.80 metres deep. However, their size varies, as there are
also small pits with the width of 0.30 metres and similar depth.21 The distance between
such pits varied between just a few centimetres and 1.50 to 2.20 metres. They varied in
density, with those closest to the large ditch being more concentrated and the rows in
this southern area more spread apart with the pits being longer and deeper. Their differ
ent orientation caused a spine-type effect, tracing a type of V with the apex pointing to
the centre of the plateau.22
In 1999, Helena Catarino discovered a new area of pits near to the new ditch (Y).
These are a little smaller and rectangular in shape.23 Many questions have been raised
20 Aljubarrota Revisitada, ed. Monteiro, 116–22.

21 Afonso do Paço, “Escavações de carácter histórico no campo de batalha,” 46–49. To get a better
idea of the real depth of these obstacles, we should add around forty to fifty centimetres to these
depths to account for the damp earth.
22 F. Severino Lourenço, “O sistema defensivo da batalha de Aljubarrota,” Baluarte 4 (1985): 8–13.
about a relationship between these pits and the battle. Some suggest that they could
have been Muslim silos used to store cereals; others argue that they were for the extrac
tion of clay or gravel. All these hypotheses have proved unfounded, however, and so it
is plausible that these pits were related to the battle (a sort of Portuguese version of
pits employed at Bannockburn or Crécy). None of the chroniclers mention them, but the
Sumario de los Reyes de España provides valuable information, mentioning that, in addi
tion to the barricades, “many pits were made and covered with branches.”24
The Effect of the Funnel and the “Corridor of Death”

The whole structure seems remarkably coherent, so much so in fact that the 1999
archaeological campaign suggested that there may have been another system (possibly
symmetrical or close to that) to the one Paço found in 1958–1960.25 But let us recap two
presuppositions. First, for João I to be successful, he had to achieve a clear victory over
his adversary. Froissart explains (in his second account), we should remember, that in
the Portuguese council of war, the prevailing idea was that João I could never “wear the
crown of Portugal with tranquillity” without first beating his rival once or twice in bat
tle, in such a way as to break his power. And to do that, he would have to take the initia
tive and select the battlefield.26 Second, in the situation presented, Juan I could scarcely
avoid fighting his rival, because otherwise he ran the risk of having his marching column
broken and his rear-guard decimated by an experienced army.
The army of Nuno Á� lvares therefore forced combat, while allowing the enemy to
believe that it had obliged them to move to a weaker position. We know from the Castil
ian king’s letter that the battle did not start until 6:00 p.m., and so the Constable and his
English allies would have had plenty of time to reinforce their position with artificial
obstacles. The aim was to hinder the enemy’s progress with a continuous set of obstacles
running transversal to the Chão da Feira terrace. The joint effect of the arroyos (which
would prevent the use of envelopment manoeuvres), the palisado, and the rows of pits
and ditches would create a bottleneck, funnelling the attack through a type of corridor
of death. Even Fernão Lopes himself (who is silent on the artificial obstacles) mentions
that the Castilian forces, “as they advanced, began to find that they were being held up,
one behind the other.”27 Froissart is equally expressive, in saying (in the Orthez account)
24 Sumario de los Reyes de España in Arnaut, A Batalha de Trancoso, 74–75: “[…] fechas muchas
fosas cubiertas con ramas.”
25 Research into the western flank of the Portuguese position has been limited since 1961, as
the Portuguese state authorized the construction of a main road (Estrada Nacional no. 1) running
through that spot. Be that as it may, land can still be explored in this area and this may provide
interesting new information about the Anglo-Portuguese defensive works. Maria Antónia Athayde
Amaral will soon be in charge of a new archaeological campaign, aiming at clarifying the logic of the
whole system of defensive entrenchment used by the Anglo-Portuguese army.
26 Froissart, Chroniques, ed. Mirot, bk. 3, para. 91, 280. At Crécy, Edward III also appears to have
followed a deliberate plan, seeking to confront the enemy on terrain that gave the English an
advantage (Ayton, The Crécy Campaign, 37).
27 Lopes, Crónica del Rei Dom João I, Parte Segunda, chap. 42, 97: “E em passeando começarom de
that, after felling and piling up the trees, the Portuguese arranged them to leave “a path
open through the middle, which could be reached through a narrow entrance; they then
positioned their archers and crossbowmen in two wings alongside that path.”28 Just as
with the French at Kortrijk (or Courtrai), the Castilians at São Jorge were “like a ‘hare’
caught in a ‘trap’.”29
The construction of the abattis and ditches (which were excavated directly, with no
need to move earth) would have been simple; all that was needed was three dozen trees
and five hundred men, half of whom would have been sentries. As for the pits, calcula
tions carried out at the battlefield show that three hundred and fifty men with spades
and picks would have been able to dig a thousand large pits in three hours, particularly
since the earth would have been soft and damp at the time of the battle and easy to dig.
The shrubs and plants covering the land could then have been used for camouflaging the
holes.30 Part of the system does seem to have been completed quickly, as some isolated
stretches are poorly interconnected. Remember too that the Portuguese army began to
arrive at the second position several hours before the Castilians had reached the Chão
da Feira terrace, and the armies had formed a few hundred metres from one another,
with the trees limiting visibility. This would explain Nuno Á� lvares’s haste (according to
the Crónica do Condestabre) in expelling López de Ayala and the other emissaries, mak
ing sure that they would not catch a glimpse of the improvised obstacles.
Thanks to the excavations by Maria Antónia Athayde Amaral on the battlefield in
2003–2004 and in 2007–2008, we also know of the existence of another ditch located
considerably north of the chapel which, according to her opinion, could have been there
to defend the rear-guard of the Portuguese army, or perhaps its baggage train. This ditch
has an east–west orientation and was opened at two natural gravel levels. In the most
easterly part, it has a total width of one hundred centimetres, distributed in the follow
ing manner:
the area of the upper level—153.88 metres—has a width of 60 centimetres and has a
set of small grooves oblique to the line of the ditch, with identical spacings and the same
orientation, which can be interpreted as small holes for posts which would have secured
the wooden structure raised above the ditch. The ditch itself was 40 centimetres wide,
with an almost quadrangular form with straight lateral walls, parallel but not symmetri
cal, with the bottom being curved and slightly inclined to the north. The maximum height
of the ditch was approximately 55 centimetres and the minimum 50 centimetres. In the
part to the east, it was larger in size, around 140 centimetres in width. The first level, now
very faint at that point, was 55 centimetres in width and the actual ditch, with symmetri
cal straight walls and a curved bottom, had a width of 80 centimetres and a maximum
depth of 65 centimetres. The structure was completely filled with a layer of dark brown
sse fazer ficadiços huuns tras outros.”

28 Froissart, Chroniques, ed. Mirot, bk. 3, para. 37, 148: “ung chemin ouvert, qui d’entrée n’estoit
pas trop large, et mistrent ce qu’ilz avoient d’archiers et d’arbalestriers sur les deux heles de ce
chemin.”
29 A medieval English poem written to celebrate the Flemish victory at Kortrijk, quoted by Kelly
DeVries, Infantry Warfare, 17–18.
30 See also Lourenço, O sistema defensivo, 12.
earth and many smooth pebbles. The sample collected inside the ditch—with a size of
153.49 metres on the west side and 153.13 metres on the east area, i.e. with west/east
slopes—, consisted of various pieces of flint, with traces of coals, tile, ordinary ceramics
and metals.31
This large ditch ended up becoming a spectacular part of the museum visit at the Centre
of Interpretation of the Battle of Aljubarrota. Only after resuming excavations—envis
aged in the near future with the support of European funds and the Battle of Aljubarrota
Foundation—will it be possible to clarify the real objective of this major obstacle and its
connection (or not) with the rest of the defences set up by the Anglo Portuguese army.
Estimating Numbers
As for the size of the two armies, neither Juan I’s letter nor the Sumario de los Reyes de
España mention the matter. López de Ayala does not speak of the Castilian troops (which
in itself is suggestive), but states that the “Master of Avis” had two thousand two hun
dred men-at-arms and ten thousand foot soldiers, lancers and crossbowmen on his side.
Fernão Lopes says that the Portuguese army consisted of six and a half thousand men
(seventeen hundred lancers, eight hundred crossbowmen and four thousand foot sol
diers), while in turn the enemy had thirty-one thousand men (six thousand lancers, two
thousand light cavalrymen or ginetes, eight thousand crossbowmen and fifteen thousand
foot soldiers). Froissart, in the Orthez version, mentions two thousand French lancers in
the vanguard of the Castilian army, followed by twenty thousand mounted knights in the
royal battalion; in the Middelburg version, he claims there were seven thousand lances
in the vanguard and thirty thousand well-mounted men in the king’s battalion. As for the
Portuguese, Froissart only states that there were considerably fewer of them, and they
were outnumbered by four to one.32 If we compare this information (including what has
been left out) with what we know of the levying potential of each kingdom and the sup
port they had, it would seem reasonable to suppose that Juan I had an army of approxi
mately twenty to twenty-five thousand men, while the Portuguese king had no more
than ten thousand. However, it should be pointed out that only part of the Castilian army
had actually arrived at Chão da Feira when the battle started. The marching column was
so long that not everyone would have had time to get to the terrace before six o’clock.
The Layout of the Armies

Let us look now at the tactics used by both sides. As regards the Castilians, the vanguard
(mostly made up of French soldiers, according to Froissart) formed some five to six hun
dred metres south of the Portuguese vanguard which was located in the area of the chapel.
Fernão Lopes (the chronicler with most details on this subject) explains that the Castilian
lines “were positioned at a range of two large crossbow shots from the Portuguese.”33
31 Amaral, “Os vestí�gios materiais da guerra,” 1:525 esp. 525n5.

32 Ayala, Crónica del rey don Juan, Año Séptimo, chap. 13, 596; Lopes, Crónica del Rei Dom João I,
Parte Segunda, chap. 37, 81–84; and Froissart, Chroniques, ed. Mirot, bk. 3, para. 39, 41, 89 and 93.
The vanguard had around sixteen hundred lancers, arranged in two or (more likely)
three rows. Further back (one to two hundred metres behind) would have been the
royal battalion, which was not completely formed when the battle started; several thou
sand men-at-arms would have gathered by that time, and would have been distributed
into several rows—perhaps three, as Lopes speaks of “three thousand spears altogether,
doubled up, that is, a thousand spears in each line”34 (probably organised into several
rows, since the terrain only provided a width of three hundred to three hundred and
forty spears). The two wings covered the flanks, each consisting of seven hundred men-
at-arms; the right wing was commanded by the Master of Alcântara (and this included
many Gascons and other foreigners) and the other was commanded by the Master of
Calatrava. Finally, “crossbowmen and foot soldiers and other kinds of fighters were
placed where they could be most useful.”35 As for the impedimenta (carts, pack horses,
pages, etc.), this was located behind. Most of the Castilian army was on horseback, at
least at the start of the battle.
The Portuguese were probably all dismounted (following the English style). Accord
ing to Lopes, Nuno Á� lvares had formed a vanguard of two or three rows, consisting of
some six hundred men-at-arms. At their side, probably a little forward, were the two
wings, consisting of crossbowmen and English archers (as at Halidon Hill and Crécy),
certainly accompanied by men-at-arms (perhaps two hundred on either side).36 López
de Ayala (who scarcely mentions the tactics) claims to have advised the king that “the
enemies have their vanguard and two wings together in a single unit, and there is a large
number of foot soldiers and crossbowmen.”37 Behind, some hundred and fifty to two
hundred metres north of the chapel, the rear-guard was situated under the leadership
of João I, along with his personal guard and some seven hundred lancers, probably orga
nized in two or three rows.38
The Portuguese army was thus concentrated in two lines: one, further forward, that
included the vanguard and wings; and the other further back (though not far away)
under the command of the king, probably benefiting from the protection of a ditch to
avoid attacks from behind. Further north, the baggage train was stationed, protected
by foot soldiers and crossbowmen. João I wanted to take full benefit of the potential
provided by the crossbowmen and archers (aspects that his rival appears to have over
looked), and so they were ordered to fire intensely from behind the abattis whenever
the enemy came into range, advancing in a slow disorganized fashion given the narrow
ness of the battlefront. Then, it would be up to the vanguard to maintain their engage
ment with the enemy. As for the Castilians and their allies, they trusted mainly in their
confrontational skills.
37 Ayala, Crónica del rey don Juan, Año Séptimo, chap. 14, 596: “e los enemigos tienen su
avanguarda e dos alas juntas en uno, en que han grand gente de peones e ballesteros.”
Armaments and Command

Both armies were equipped in a predictable manner for a battle of this period. Their
protective armour included mail caps and shirts, or brigandines, camails, helms, and
(for the wealthier) visored bascinets, gorgets, pauldrons, rerebraces, and vambraces,
gauntlets, breastplates, paunces, and cuisses. Their weapons would have included (in
addition to crossbows, bows, and slings) spears in particular and, for the face-to-face
phase, collision weapons (pole-axes, maces, war hammers) and white arms (swords,
poniards, and daggers). In general, the Castilian army was better equipped than most of
the Portuguese, which largely consisted of county troops.
On the other hand, the Portuguese king’s leadership was firmer, not only as a result
of the strategy adopted but also because, as Ayala explains, “Juan I was lying down on
the ground, leaning against a knight and very sick, hardly able to speak.”39 The Castilian
king confirms this himself in his letter, when he describes the council of war that had
been held before the attack: “And we spoke to them, even though we were very weak, as
we had been travelling for fourteen days in a litter, which was why we were not able to
understand anything about the battlefield, as would have been desired.”40
When the attack began, Juan I’s involvement was also limited. Ayala says that “at the
start of battle, the king was so weak that the knights and squires that were guarding him
carried him in a stretcher.”41 Given this, the Castilian council of war was dominated by
headstrong young knights who, as Juan I explains in his letter to Murcia, were so eager to
fight that they attacked without his permission.42
Afraid of being considered cowards for failing to attack an enemy that was smaller
in number and in an apparently unfavourable position, many Castilians argued for an
immediate attack against the Portuguese. In doing so, they ignored prudent advice from
more experienced men, such as Lopez de Ayala and Jean de Rye, who preferred to wait,
tiring the enemy in the process, and forcing them to abandon their position (which
would take long hours). This rush forward—which may have been exacerbated by some
rivalry between the French and Castilians—proved tragic.
The Battle
Juan I’s army definitely took the initiative in the battle. The Portuguese tactical plan, the
way in which they had organized the terrain, and reports from the Castilian council of
war all indicate this. Froissart’s accounts (which describe the battle in far more detail
than any of the other chronicles) also suggest that there were two distinct stages in the
39 Ayala, Crónica del rey don Juan, Año Séptimo, 1385, chap. 14, 598.
40 Crónicas de los reyes de Castilla, ed. Rosell, Tomo Segundo, no. 14, 152: “é nos fallamos con
ellos, aunque con mucha flaqueza, que avia catorce dias que ibamos camino en litera, é por esta
causa non podiamos entender ninguna cosa del campo como complia á nuestro servicio.” Juan I
suffered from seizures (intermittent fevers, similar to malaria).
41 Ayala, Crónica del rey don Juan, Año Séptimo, 1385, chap. 14, 601.
42 Crónicas de los reyes de Castilla, ed. Rosell, Tomo Segundo, no. 14, 152: “[…] con la voluntad que
avian de pelear, fueronse sin nuestro acuerdo allá.”
Franco-Castilian attack. The first involved the French vanguard and the second that of
Juan I’s royal battalion. What we do not know is whether the initial attack was carried
out on horseback or on foot.
We do know, however, that the Castilian right wing launched a (somewhat late) cav
alry attack on the Portuguese baggage train. Moreover, Fernão Lopes tells us that, at a
particular moment, the Castilians “cut their spears to make them shorter […], because
many, thinking they would be fighting on horseback, upon realising the battle was
turning to foot-combat, cut them so they could wield them better.”43 Froissart, in the
Orthez account, describes Juan I’s vanguard (with two thousand Frenchmen) fighting on
horseback, as also happened with the royal battalion; but in João Pacheco’s version, the
French in the vanguard “got down onto the ground” when they got close to the enemy
and saw how well-organized they were;44 only later did the royal battalion, which was in
fact mounted, come to their aid.
Clearly, therefore, some Castilian troops fought on horseback. Indeed, the French
and Castilians had been hoping for mounted combat. However, there are strong indica
tions that much of the battle took place on foot. This reference to the spear-shortening,
and the instructions that Nuno Á� lvares gave the men of his vanguard, can only be under
stood in terms of combat on foot (“Everyone should advance very slowly when the Cas
tilians begin to move, and when you come together, stand firm and calm, with your feet
planted firmly on the ground and your spears clamped tightly under your armpits and
thrust out as far as is possible; and when the enemy arrives, drive your spears into them
and then push as hard as you can”).45 Later, Lopes (who knew many of those who took
part in the battle personally) describes the Portuguese king fighting on foot, pole-axe in
hand.46 In fact, the features of the terrain and the way it was organized would not have
permitted any alternative. In the letter to Murcia, the obstacles, as we have seen, were
described using the body of a foot-fighter as a term of comparison: “a pile of cut-down
trees, waist high” and “a trench so deep that it would cover a man right up to his throat.”47
If the right wing of the Castilian army had remained mounted, they, like the left
wing, would not have been fully able to intervene in the central fighting because of
the obstacles they encountered in their path. In his somewhat laconic account, Ayala
repeats this idea, saying: “Thus, the battle began, and the Portuguese vanguard had the
great advantage, because they were all, with the help of the foot soldiers in their wings,
fighting against the Castilian vanguard that was by itself; the two wings of the Castilian
army could not fight because they could not cross the valleys before them.”48 Thus, there
43 Lopes, Crónica del Rei Dom João I, Parte Segunda, chap. 42, 98: “cortaram as lamças e as
fezerom mais curtas do que tragiam…, porque muytos, cuidando de pellejar a cauallo, quando
virom a batalha pee terra, por se desemuoluer e ajudar melhor dellas as talhauom.”
44 Froissart, Chroniques, ed. Mirot, bk. 3, para. 93, 286: “mirent tous pié à terre.”
48 Ayala, Crónica del rey don Juan, Año Séptimo, chap. 14, 601: “E la batalla así� comenzada, los de la
avanguarda de Portogal tení�an grand aventaja, ca todos, con ayuda de los peones que tení�an en las
Map 4: The First

Phase of the Battle.
appears to have been two stages to the Franco-Castilian offensive (first the vanguard,
then the royal battalion), both of which would have been mixed in terms of their con
figuration (first on horseback, then on foot). Foot combat predominated, however, as a
result of the bottleneck created by the layout of the terrain. The first phase of the battle
(as described by Froissart alone) may therefore be reconstructed as follows (see figure
attached):
–– Juan I’s impetuous vanguard (French troops) launch the attack on horseback,
but are taken aback by the enemy’s fortifications;
–– the French are largely routed, thanks to the archers and crossbowmen. As Espan
de Lion recounts: “there was great distress and disgrace amongst the attackers,
sus alas peleaban con la avanguarda de Castilla sola, e los de las dos alas de Castilla non peleaban,
ca non pudieron pasar los valles que tení�an delante.”
because the English archers were firing so intensely that the horses were all
wounded and mutilated, and fell to the ground, one on top of the other”;49
–– the French attack was obstructed by the ditches, as explained by Pacheco: “and
there was great distress amongst them when they went over the little stream
and the ditch, and many were trampled on”;50
–– thrown to the ground, unable to move, and without space for foot combat (“since,
when they got back up, they could not help each other, and could not spread out
to defend themselves or to find a way of fighting more easily”51), many French
died from the violent blows, and were pushed back into the ditch that they had
crossed. As Pacheco recounts: “They were surrounded and enclosed amongst
us by those that we call the counties of our country, in such a manner that they
could be mercilessly beaten and wounded with pole-axes and maces. And our
men[…] appeared before them and stuck them with their spears, forcing them
backwards until they fell into the ditch that they had previously crossed”;52
–– without any support from the royal battalion, the surviving French were taken
prisoner: “And in that first battle, the Portuguese were stronger than their ene
mies, and put them at their mercy, and they were all killed or captured Few
survived […] a thousand knights and squires were captured.”53
Learning (belatedly) of the disarray on the front line, Juan I’s battalion decided to
advance, probably on horseback along with the two wings. Lopes (who, I believe, con
centrates his account on this second phase of the battle) describes how ostentatiously
the Castilians moved off.54 However, the wings quickly got left behind because their
access to the plateau was impeded by the natural obstacles. As for the rest, when they
drew close to the Portuguese position, they realized that the fighting would have to
be carried out on foot. So, the Spanish dismounted and covered the last few hundred
metres on foot until they reached their enemy, shortening their spears as they went.
As they made their way, they were bombarded by arrows from the archers sheltering
49 Froissart, Chroniques, ed. Mirot, bk. 3, para. 39, 157: “ot grant presse et grant meschief pour les
assailans, car ce que il y avoit d’archiers d’Engleterre traioient si onniement que chevaulx estoient
tous encousus et meshaigniez, et cheoient l’un sus l’autre.”
50 Froissart, Chroniques, ed. Mirot, bk. 3, para. 93, 286: “et là ot d’eulz au passer ce tantet d’aigue et
le fossé moult grant presse et des pluseurs moult foulez.”
51 Froissart, Chroniques, ed. Mirot, bk. 3, para. 39, 157: “car au relever ilz ne povoient aidier l’un
l’autre, et si ne se povoient eslargir pour eulx deffendre ne combatre à leur volenté.”
52 Froissart, Chroniques, ed. Mirot, bk. 3, para. 93, 286: “Ilz furent enclos et enserrez entre nous
de ceulx que nous appellons les communautez de nostre pays, par telle maniere que on frapoit et
fieroit sur eulz de haches et de plommées sans eulx espargnier. Et nos gens d’armes … leur vinrent
au devant en poussant de lances et en eulx reculant et reversant ou fossé que ilz avoient passé.” See
also Gaier, “La bataille de Vottem, 19 juillet 1346,” 116, which gives a beautiful description of the
fighting capacity of the Liège communes, armed with pole-axes, war hammers, and swords.
behind the abattis and positioned in the forward wings. With the gradual narrowing
of the battle front and the other obstacles in their path (ditches and pits), the attackers
became confused and disordered, jammed into the centre of the plateau, so that their
formation “was dense and full of people, to such an extent that there was a stone’s throw
between those at the back and those at the front.”55 Juan I’s men thus became a magnifi
cent target for the experienced English archers.
Lopes recounts that the Portuguese vanguard, as it saw the enemy approaching,
advanced slowly as they had been ordered, shouting for Portugal and St. George.56 At
that time, according to Froissart, the commander decided that they would not take pris
oners, and so they killed as many of the enemy as possible. Thus, many of the French
prisoners that had been disarmed and were scattered amongst Portuguese back lines,
thinking themselves safe, were apparently killed.57
Although the Castilian attack had lost much of its impetus, and its army had already
sustained a great number of losses, part of it still managed to arrive with strength where
the French soldiers had been routed. This was where it clashed with Nuno Á� lvares’s van
guard: “As the lines clashed, they thrust their spears into each other, wounding and driv
ing as hard as they could, with the foot soldiers and crossbowmen hurling stones and
bolts.”58 The shortened spears soon proved to be useless, and so the Castilians resorted
instead to pole-axes and swords.59 They moved on to hand-to-hand combat, which was
particularly intense “near the Constable’s flag, where there is now a chapel dedicated to
St. George, which he later ordered to be built there.”60
Following this titanic struggle, Nuno Á� lvares’s line gave way: “the vanguard was
broken by force and powerfully penetrated by the enemy,” opening up “a large broad
gateway.”61 The battle then entered its decisive phase. Lopes explains that the Portu
guese wings, seeing what was happening, “circled around towards the enemy and posi
tioned themselves between the vanguard and the rear-guard.”62 That is to say, as they
55 Lopes, Crónica del Rei Dom João I, Parte Segunda, chap. 42, 97: “[…] ficou assy grossa e ancha
em espessura de gemte que auya huum lanço de pedra dos trasseyros aos dianteros.” By the
expression “a stone’s throw” I believe that the chronicler was referring to a distance of about a
hundred to a hundred and twenty metres, roughly.
57 Froissart, Chroniques, ed. Mirot, bk. 3, para. 41, 162: “Là furent barons, chevaliers et escuiers,
qui pris estoient, en dur parti […]; ilz estoient espers en pluseurs lieux çá et là, et tous desarmez, et
cuidoient estre sauvez, mais non furent.”
58 Lopes, Crónica del Rei Dom João I, Parte Segunda, chap. 42, 97: “E ao ajumtar das aazes, poseram
as lamças huuns nos outros, ferimdo e puxamdo quanto podiam, e os peoões e beesteiros lamçando
em tanto muytas pedras e viratoões.”
61 Lopes, Crónica del Rei Dom João I, Parte Segunda, chap. 42, 98: “[…] abryo huum gramde e
largo portall.”
62 Lopes, Crónica del Rei Dom João I, Parte Segunda, chap. 42, 98: “[…] dobrarom sobrelles, e
ficarom estomçe amtre a uamguarda e a reguarda.”
Map 5: The Second

Phase of the Battle.
were not facing any direct opposition, the Portuguese wings came to the aid of the van
guard, re-established the line that had been broken, and surrounded the enemy.
In the general mêlée that followed, João I ordered his rear-guard to advance,63 a
movement that would have been crucial, as it squeezed the Castilian wedge that had
managed to break through the vanguard of the Constable. Things probably became very
bloody at this point, and the Castilian army would have found itself in a difficult situa
tion. In the Orthez account, Espan de Lion claims that the Portuguese advantage was
due to the fact that “they could not be reached except by a single passage.”64 That is to
say, the Castilians only had a narrow channel through which they could reach the enemy,
64 Froissart, Chroniques, ed. Mirot, bk. 3, para. 42, 164: “on ne les povoit approchier, fors que par
ung pas.”
and those that managed to get through were massacred by the joint pressure of Nuno
Á� lvares’s lines (now supported by the two wings) and those of João I. Froissart speaks
of the “fort des Luscebonnois”65 (the inhabitants of Lisbon) and emphasizes the crucial
role played by a ditch, that made it even more difficult for the Castilians to approach.66 At
this point, the Portuguese began to compress the enemy, who were trapped in a pocket
surrounded by João I’s troops. By this time, the Castilians were in disarray, trampled on,
and, at the same time, wounded and pressed on all sides by blows from the foot soldiers’
pole-axes. The Castilian flag was overthrown and panic broke out amongst the ranks.
The Portuguese then took the initiative. Froissart says: “They crossed the ditch and the
stream, because at more than 40 places, it was dammed up with corpses that had fallen
and were lying scattered around, and they asked for their horses and mounted, and set
off in hot pursuit.”67
The Castilian right wing (led by the Master of Alcântara) still managed to mount an
attack upon the Portuguese baggage train some three hundred metres to the north. But
this attack came late and did not cause much damage, as Nuno Á� lvares swiftly came to
the rescue. However, the episode confirms that the Castilian wings were unable to reach
the heart of the battle, and proves that at least part of their men did not dismount from
their horses. It also reveals a new tactical error on the part of the Castilians. As Ayala
explains, the resistance put up by the foot soldiers guarding the baggage had to do with
the fact that they were unable to flee, as they were surrounded by the Master de Alcânta
ra’s knights; thus, “they were forced to defend themselves and fight, which went against
good battle practice as recommended by the ancient authors.”68 In truth, and as is well
known, their desperation and the risk of dying made them determined.
The Aftermath of the Battle

So ended the Battle of Aljubarrota, after a relatively short period of combat (the Iberian
chroniclers say that it lasted around half an hour, although this probably only refers to
the central phase when the Castilian royal battalion was involved),69 considering the
potential of the two armies and what was at stake. Ayala recounts that those Castilian
65 Froissart, Chroniques, ed. Mirot, bk. 3, para. 42, 164: “fort des Luscebonnois.”
67 Froissart, Chroniques, ed. Mirot, bk. 3, para. 93, 287: “ilz passerent tout oultre le fossé et le tantet
d’aigue que là avoit, car en plus de XL. lieux elle estoit esclusée des mors qui y estoient jonchiez et
couchiez, et demanderent leurs chevaulx et monterent, et puis se mirent en chace.” The reference to
the dammed-up water suggests that this was not stagnant water at the bottom of a ditch but rather
a little stream.
69 Ayala, Crónica del rey don Juan, Año Séptimo, chap. 14, 602. Lopes, Crónica del Rei Dom João I,
Parte Segunda, chap. 45, 106. Froissart, Chroniques, ed. Mirot, bk. 3, para. 93, 287, in his second
account, also speaks of half an hour, but here he is referring to the first phase of the battle (the
attack by the French vanguard). It should also be noted that the chroniclers refer explicitly to
canonical hours, which comprised more than the sixty minutes of modern mechanical hours (on
long summer days, that is).
soldiers that were still standing, “when they saw the king’s men withdrawing, and many
rushing on horseback to get off the battlefield, they thrust their king onto a horse and
took him off the field, despite the fact that he was very ill.”70 That night, Juan I travelled
some fifty or sixty kilometres to Santarém, which he reached, exhausted and desperate,
predicting that the kingdom of Castile would be in mourning until Christmas 1387.
To sum up, there seem to have been six main factors that contributed to the success
of the Anglo-Portuguese army:
–– their defensive tactics, which were helped by an excellent position, probably
selected the previous day, where the natural obstacles (the narrowness of the
front, gullies, and rivers) were complemented by key artificial obstacles (abattis,
ditches, pits), partially camouflaged by foliage;
–– a formation based on a strong vanguard, along with two advanced wings with
powerful shooting ability (archers and crossbowmen), and further back, a solid
rear-guard ready to intervene;
–– the effectiveness of the various movements (shooting, reception of the attack,
wing rotation, rear-guard advance), with all the lines well commanded, and
where it seems that everyone fought on foot until the moment of final pursuit;
–– the impetuosity of the Castilian army, who had not examined the second Portu
guese position properly, but instead rushed headlong into battle before it was
completely formed, at a late hour (which limited the possibility of regrouping
in the event of initial failure) and when their men-at-arms were already tired.
Ayala states he warned his king that “the day is drawing to a close, and the hour
of vespers is already upon us; moreover, neither you nor your men have eaten or
drunk today, not even water, despite the great heat, and they are exhausted after
the path they have covered”;71
–– the lack of able command in Juan I’s army (given the king’s state of health),
aggravated by the apparent rivalry between the French and the Castilians; lead
ing to the precipitate attack, when the (French) vanguard moved off too far
ahead, and did not receive any help from the Castilian royal battalion in time;
–– the inability of the Castilian army to deal with the enemy’s shooting power (given
the many English longbow specialists) and their own weakness in that area.
After Juan I had fled, his army fell apart, with each man fending for himself. Some threw
off the clothes they were wearing as they fled, to lighten their weight. Others turned
their jackets the other way round so as not to be recognized, although they were ulti
mately betrayed by their language. Those without mounts hid in the wood. However,
they were unable to escape the massacre, as many local people joined in the pursuit
71 Ayala, Crónica del rey don Juan, Año Séptimo, chap. 14, 598: “el dí�a es ya muy baxo, ca es hora
de ví�speras, e demás, vos nin vuestras gentes non han hoy comido nin bebido nin tan solamente del
agua, magüer face grand calentura, e están enojados del camino que han andado.”
within around fifteen kilometres of the site (as had happened at Kortrijk, when many
French were caught when fleeing). However, on São Jorge’s Plateau, the Portuguese king,
as prudent as Edward III had been at Crécy, prevented his men from giving chase in
an unbridled manner, and forbade them from going much beyond the edge of the bat
tlefield. By this time night had fallen, and no one could guarantee that the powerful
Castilian army would not manage to regroup nearby. Indeed, Castilian reinforcements
were continuing to arrive in the region, as many had still been marching northward from
Jardoeira when the battle had begun. Therefore, although this meant renouncing valu
able booty (and Froissart records the annoyance of the English at this decision72), most
of the Portuguese army remained on the lookout, possibly also reinforcing their position
(with new defences of wooden stakes and/or with new trenches) to make sure that vic
tory would not slip from their grasp.
Only at daybreak, on August 15, did the Portuguese army fully realize the scale of
their victory. The enemy had indeed retreated, leaving behind a vast number of corpses
to be buried. The identification of the Castilian dead then followed, while some Portu
guese attacked the enemy’s baggage train. All over the battlefield, the Portuguese plun
dered anything that interested them. Fernão Lopes says: “they turned bodies over soul
lessly, to see if there was anything they could make use of. And they found that many that
lay there dead had no wounds on them at all.”73
Crushing is, in my mind, one of the keys to understanding the battle. Just as on Dup
plin Moor in 1332 (and also at Mons-en-Pévèle, in 1304, and Agincourt, in 1415),74 many
of the men killed at São Jorge that day did not perish from wounds caused by enemy
weapons, but rather from compression, which caused them to suffocate or be crushed
to death.

73 Lopes, Crónica del Rei Dom João I, Parte Segunda, chap. 45, 108: “e delles se ocupauom em
reuoluer corpos sem almas, se lhe acharyam alguuma cousa de que sse aproueitar podessem. E
muytos dos que jaziam moortos nom tijnham ferida nehuuma.”
74 Clifford Rogers, “The Offensive/Defensive in Medieval Strategy,” in From Crécy to Mohacs:
Warfare in the Late Middle Ages (1346–1526) / Von Crécy bis Mohács: Kriegswesen im späten
Mittelalter (1346-1526). XXII. Kongress der Internationalen Kommission für Militärgeschichte
(Vienna, 1996) (Wien: Heeresgeschichtliches Museum / Militärhistorisches Institut, 1997),
158–71.
Chapter 5
CASUALTIES AND THE AFTERMATH
The Portuguese army remained in its fortified position on the battlefield for
three days (according to royal letters issued on those days). On August 17, they headed to
Alcobaça, around fifteen kilometres to the southwest. When they crossed the Chiqueda
bridge, they found the bodies of many more Castilians that had tried to escape the bat
tlefield. This slaughter was due to the abbot of the Cistercian monastery of Alcobaça (D.
João de Ornelas) and his men, who were loyal to the Portuguese king. Indeed, on the day
of the battle, they had sent pack-horses laden with bread and wine to the Constable to
help sustain the troops during their long wait in the sun.
López de Ayala confirmed that many good gentlemen and knights died at São Jorge.
He provides a list of twenty names, including noblemen, the adelantado mayor, the
admiral, the two marshals, and the mayordomo mayor of Castile, in addition to “many
other knights from Castile and Leon.”1 Ayala also mentions the death of some of the Por
tuguese that were with Juan I (such as the Master of Calatrava, brother of Nuno Á� lvares
Pereira), and some French allies (such as Jean de Rye). The Castilian chancellor remains
silent regarding deaths on the Portuguese side (which is suggestive) and confesses that,
despite the disproportionate number of Castilian dead, the only reason more were not
slaughtered was that many managed to flee with the Master of Alcântara’s column or
with king Juan I. 2
Fernão Lopes estimates the Castilian deaths at twenty-five hundred and presents a
long list of names, including some Portuguese. He was also aware of the large number
of commoners that had been killed in flight. As regards the Portuguese army, Lopes only
records the deaths of thirty Portuguese foot soldiers that fled before the battle began,
some men that fell during the attack on the Castilian king’s dinner service, and the par
ticular cases of Vasco Martins de Melo (killed in pursuit of Juan I), Martim Gil de Cor
reixas, and the Anglo–Gascon leaders “Bernaldom Solla” and “Joham de Monferrara,” in
addition to “other people of little account and foot soldiers, in total up to fifty.”3
Froissart says, in his first report, that in the initial combat, a thousand French knights
and squires were taken prisoner, but were later executed.4 Afterwards, during the royal
battalion’s attack, he explains that out of the Castilians that managed to penetrate the
“fort,” “sixty barons and knights were killed” (some named by the chronicler), which
is greater than the Battle of Nájera in 1367.5 On the Portuguese side, Espan de Lion is
clearly exaggerating when he speaks of five hundred knights and five hundred squires
dead, in addition to six to seven thousand dead amongst the other men.6 In Pacheco’s
report, the destruction of the French vanguard is calculated as causing more than four
thousand deaths.7 As regards the Castilians, Froissart speaks of over twelve hundred
knights and squires dead, naming sixteen Portuguese (who were pro-Juan I) and Castil
ian noblemen, five French, and fourteen Gascons from Béarn;8 no mention is made of
João I’s losses in this account.
There is no doubt that the Castilians suffered disproportionate losses, which can
only be understood if we take into consideration the conditions under which they were
fighting (the narrow front, the unexpected obstacles, compression, panic, and so on).
Perhaps Alcide de Oliveira9 exaggerates somewhat when suggesting that four thou
sand Castilians were killed during the battle and some fifty-five hundred in the events
that followed (a very large proportion of the army, though in Kortrijk, the army of Robert
de Artois had also apparently lost between forty to fifty percent of its men10). As for the
Portuguese deaths, Oliveira mentions between six hundred and six hundred and fifty, a
figure which is probably too high.
The Bones, Witnesses of the Slaughter

The most distinguished Portuguese that fell at São Jorge were buried in the Monastery
of Alcobaça. The commoners would have been buried in nearby churches or on the
battlefield itself. In 1958, Afonso do Paço discovered a common grave a few metres to
the south of the chapel, containing 2,874 bones, which he presumed belonged to those
who had fallen in the battle (see attached figure: E, F, and G). This bone collection was
analysed at the University of Coimbra by a specialised team led by Professor Eugénia
Cunha.11 We know nowadays that this corresponds to at least 414 individuals, mostly
men, aged between eighteen and sixty-five, whose stature and physique are in keeping
with medieval Iberian populations. Carbon-14 dating, performed in Miami in the spring
of 1999, shows that they were from people that had lived in the fourteenth century.12
5 Froissart, Chroniques, ed. Mirot, bk. 3, para. 42, 165: “[…] et bien LX. barons et chevaliers
d’Espaigne, ne oncques en la bataille de Nazes, où le prince de Galles desconfi le roy dan Henry, il
n’y ot mors tant de nobles gens de Castilles, comme il ot là à la besongne de Juberot.”
6 Froissart, Chroniques, ed. Mirot, bk. 3, para. 43, 167–68.
9 Oliveira, Aljubarrota Dissecada, 100–101.
10 DeVries, Infantry Warfare, 19 (based upon estimates by Philippe Contamine and J. F.
Verbruggen, the great scholar of the Battle of the Golden Spurs at Kortrijk).
12 Aljubarrota Revisitada, ed. Monteiro, 189–90. The results obtained in the Beta Analytics Inc.
laboratory, based on the analysis of the organic material of two randomly selected tibia, clearly
indicate the period between 1290 and 1425, with the period of greatest probability being that of
1350 (±15 years).
Casualties and the Aftermath 69
These were doubtless combatants that died in battle. Indeed, many of the bones show
signs of violent lesions. Moreover, as the study also demonstrates that they were left
unburied for some months, it can be assumed that they would have been Castilians or
French. Although this is a limited and fragmented collection (it was a common grave,
containing mainly long bones), it has aroused a great deal of interest. Consequently, the
team of Eugénia Cunha, Carina Marques, and Ví�tor Matos went on to examine the bones
for signs of traumatic pathologies.13
Their study revealed many incisions and perforations, most of which happened at
the time of death. This emphasizes the crucial role played by the archers and crossbow
men (one femur even revealed vestiges of the metal that had impacted at the moment of
death). Many humeruses also bore signs of incision, which indicates the occurrence of
close face-to-face combat. In all, these bones show that the battle was extremely violent
and took place in an atmosphere of great haste and confusion, resulting from the orga
nization of the Portuguese position. The fact that femurs (an extremely robust bone) are
marked by incisions and that these are on both sides (left and right), also indicates that
the combat was largely unplanned and unconventional, and that the element of surprise
was crucial to the Portuguese victory. This would explain the extent of the slaughter.
Many lesions found on frontal and occipital bones on the cranium may be a symptom
of direct aggression. Lesions on the occipital (a bone which has thick muscle cover)
indicate savage attacks from behind, or when the individual was already on the ground.
Bones of war veterans are also evident in this collection, since at least thirty examples
have remodelled fractures from injuries sustained some years previously.
The battle that we have reconstituted here is a brilliant example of fourteenth-
century tactical devices that enabled dismounted cavalry and infantry to cause havoc
amongst heavy cavalry formations. An uncommon amount of detail is available about it
from a number of different sources, which complement each other, and which are able
to shed light on different aspects. Since Peter Russell’s exemplary study, our knowledge
has advanced considerably, largely through research conducted at the site and analysis
of the bones found there. This has enabled us to interpret the narrative sources afresh,
particularly the valuable Froissart accounts, which is of course quite interesting.14 It is
to be hoped that further explorations of the battlefield, to the extent that they are pos
13 The first findings, albeit very generic (number of individuals, stature, amputations, most
important pieces) and prior to its dating in Miami, was published by Eugénia Cunha and Ana Maria
Silva in “War Lessons from the Portuguese Medieval Battle of Aljubarrota,” International Journal
of Osteoarchaeology 7 (1997): 595–99. The conclusions provided here result from more in-depth
work by an enlarged team between 1999 and 2001.
14 Peter Ainsworth’s edition of Book 3 of Froissart’s Chroniques, published in 2004, confirms most
of the military information that appeared in Léon Mirot’s edition (except the references to the ditch
and one of the streams, which are relevant for this study), namely, the fortification of the terrain
by the Portuguese army, with the use of abattis; the creation of a bottleneck with archers on each
side; the existence of a two-phased attack by the Castilian army; the size of the armies; the rivalry
between the French and the Castilians; the fighting that took place initially on horseback and
then on foot; the execution of the prisoners; the use of pole-axes; the approach of night and panic
breaking out amongst the Castilian army; the number of deaths, and more. On the use of literary
sible, might bring to light new information about such a singular battle in medieval mili
tary history. I am thinking particularly of the surprise caused by the recent discovery by
Maria Antónia Amaral of a large ditch in an area which presumably corresponded to the
approximate position of the Portuguese rear-guard. This obstacle may have been built
to protect the most rear part of the Anglo-Portuguese army, but it could also have been
a shelter for the impedimenta (support train) of João I, or could even have been dug in
the ground during the night of the August 14 to 15. After all, at this point the Portuguese
Constable ordered the fortifications of the Portuguese position to be reinforced, fearing
a regrouping near São Jorge and a re-energized Castilian force on the following day.
The Political Victory

Contrary to what frequently happened during medieval war the political and military
consequences of the battle of Aljubarrota were huge.15 Firstly, the Battle of Aljubarrota
put an end to the crisis that had begun in October 1383 with the death of Ferdinand I
of Portugal. The former Master of Avis, now João I, was able to definitively consolidate
his political position and the Castilian monarch, with an army completely torn apart
and two major personal disasters in recent memory (Lisbon in 1384 and Aljubarrota
in 1385), was no longer able to muster forces for another attempt on the Portuguese
throne. Moreover, as General Loureiro dos Santos emphasized, the Portuguese king
intelligently maintained a strong military pressure over his rival to prevent him pur
suing any new campaign against Portugal. This strategy would include a new Anglo-
Portuguese alliance, involving the Duke of Lancaster in major incursions into the lands
of León and Castile.16
Soon after the battle, João I had no difficulty in occupying the powerful garrison of
Santarém, as well as Leiria, Ó� bidos, Alenquer, Torres Vedras, Torres Novas, Sintra, Crato,
Monforte, Vila Viçosa, and Marvão, as well as other places of lesser importance. At the
same time, the long-time ambassadors of the Master of Avis (Lourenço Anes Fogaça
and the Master of Santiago, Fernando de Albuquerque), who had remained in England,
received instructions to make the English court, and in particular the Duke of Lancaster
(John of Gaunt), aware of the excellent opportunity for a joint campaign against Castile.
In turn, at the end of September and the first fortnight in October, his Constable Nuno
Á� lvares Pereira carried out a devastating incursion into Castile, during which, probably
between the October 5 and 7, 1385, at Valverde (on the banks of the Guadiana river, not
far from Mérida), he confronted and defeated a strong but excessively fragmented Castil
sources in the reconstruction of medieval battles, see DeVries, “The Use of Chronicles in Recreating
Medieval Military History.” With regard to Froissart’s contribution as a historian, see Palmer, ed.
Froissart, Historian.
15 As regards what follows, see Monteiro, Aljubarrota 1385, 118–21. I wish to express my
gratitude to Dr. Pedro de Avilez for all the support he has given over the years and the kind
permission to reproduce some of the images which appear here.
16 Alberto Loureiro dos Santos, Abordagem estratégica da guerra da independência (Lisbon:
Direcção do Serviço Histórico Militar, 1986).
Plate 3: The New Ditch (Portuguese Rear-guard).
ian army commanded by the Master of Santiago, who was killed and decapitated during
the fighting.17
At the start of 1386, João I and his Constable decided to undertake a military cam
paign to bring the castles, cities, and small towns which had supported Juan I and his
wife Beatriz under their control. Between January and the end of April, they besieged
and took Chaves (a northern garrison, close to Galicia) and, in May and June, they
occupied Bragança (in the extreme northeast of the kingdom), and then went down to
Almeida (along the frontier in the centre-east of the country), which also fell to them.
In June, the king and Nun’Á�lvares also attempted to lay siege to the Leonese frontier
garrison of Coria, but without success. It was during this operation that the differences
between the king and several of his greatest nobles (including the Constable) became
evident regarding the best military tactics to employ. The monarch was in favour of lay
ing siege to such garrisons and liked the resulting long sieges (with the recurrent use of
underground galleries). The nobles did not like “fighting against the walls,” criticized the
excessive number of casualties (which mostly occurred in an ignoble manner) during
these siege operations and complained of the resulting diseases, as well as the hunger
they experienced during an extensive campaign when it became difficult to obtain food
from the surrounding villages. As an alternative to these methods, the efficacy of which
Nuno Á� lvares Pereira estimated at no more than thirty percent, the nobles proposed to
17 On this episode, see the account of Lopes, Crónica del Rei Dom João I, Parte Segunda, chap.
58, 141–44. The figure of Nuno Á� lvares Pereira, certainly one of the greatest heroes in Portuguese
history (canonized in 2009 by Pope Benedict XVI), has had various biographies written about him,
the most recent of which is by João Gouveia Monteiro, Nuno Álvares Pereira, guerreiro, senhor feudal
e santo.
“scout the land” and “engage in battle,” which they saw as bringing honour and results,
as had been the case at Aljubarrota. Those who triumphed on the battlefield would
dominate the strong garrisons (“thus it was that those who went to the battlefield, also
obtained the smaller towns”). However, the king thought otherwise, and argued that
control of the territory presupposed control over its fortifications, and that this brought
greater prestige to a monarch and had more political repercussions, leading to the sur
render of other cities and small towns.18
Meanwhile, on May 9, a new Luso–English treaty of alliance was signed in Windsor.19
Following this agreement, an English army under the personal command of the Duke of
Lancaster landed at La Coruña in July 1386 to start a complex military operation against
Galicia. At the beginning of November, João I met John of Gaunt at Ponte de Mouro (Mon
ção). This meeting resulted in the planning of a joint offensive campaign against Castile,
as well as the marriage of the Portuguese king to one of the duke’s daughters, Philippa
of Lancaster.20
The joint military campaign took place between the end of March and the begin
ning of June 1387. It involved close to eleven thousand men (nine thousand of whom
were Portuguese), a rather large force compared to what was normal for this period.
However, the campaign—which covered Alcañices, Benavente de Campos, Roales, Val
deras, and Villalobos—did not go well. The Castilians sheltered within the walls of their
castles, carried out a scorched earth policy around them, and left their enemies to them
selves, with nobody to fight and with considerable difficulties in arranging supplies. On
June 4, the Allied army re-entered Portugal (Almeida), and started conversations which
would lead to the signing of the Anglo-Castilian treaty of Trancoso (June 1387), which
on July 8, 1388 was ratified in Bayonne, a French location close to Castile, but under
English rule.21 Among many other clauses, the English and Castilian negotiators agreed
on the marriage of the Castilian heir (Enrique III) to Catherine of Lancaster (daughter of
John of Gaunt), the grant (as a dowry) of various small towns and places and, above all,
the payment of an indemnity to the Duke to the amount of six hundred thousand francs,
in addition to forty thousand francs which were to be delivered annually, during the
life of John of Gaunt or his wife the duchess (to whom were also granted certain small
towns). In turn, the duke and his spouse, Constanza, gave up their claims to the throne of
Castile and renounced the respective title.22
19 For a good overview, see Fonseca, O essencial sobre o tratado de Windsor.
20 The marriage ceremony would take place in Porto on February 2, 1387. On the figure of this
remarkable queen see the standard work by Manuela Santos Silva, A rainha inglesa de Portugal.
21 Russell, The English Intervention, 499–523. Also João Gouveia Monteiro, “A campanha anglo-
portuguesa em Castela, em 1387—Técnicas e tácticas da guerra peninsular nos finais da Idade
Média,” in Actas do VI Colóquio da Comissão Portuguesa de História Militar (Lisbon: Comissão
Portuguesa de História Militar, 1995), 73–96.
22 The full text has been edited by John Palmer and Brian Powell, The Treaty of Bayonne (1388),
with Preliminary Treaties of Trancoso (1387) (1988).
Although he had not achieved his main objective (the largest throne in Iberia), John
of Gaunt’s campaign in the peninsula cannot be considered a fiasco. As well as ensuring
him an immense fortune, the Duke of Lancaster managed to place two of his daughters
on the thrones of Portugal and Castile which, in the future, would enable him to impose
a certain degree of moderation on the pro-French policy carried out by the Castilian
monarchy.
As for João I, the campaign with his new father-in-law, John of Gaunt, had the virtue
of requiring Juan I to remain on the defensive, preventing him from planning attacks
against Portugal, as would have been his wish. During this pause, the Portuguese king
then besieged Melgaço, in the Minho region (March–April 1388), and Campo Maior, in
the Alentejo region (September to December of the same year). With his victory in these
two operations, the new monarch ended up with virtually all of the kingdom of Portugal
under his control. It now remained to obtain peace with Castile, to be safe from any sur
prise, and be able to think about reforming the country.
In February 1389, truces were signed for six months, but already in August the Por
tuguese king attacked Galicia and then besieged Tui, which eventually surrendered on
October 18, after two and a half months of considerable harassment with ladders, tow
ers, and other siege devices. On November 29, 1389, another Luso–Castilian truce was
signed (with an envisaged duration of six years). In 1390, at the Cortes of Guadalajara,
Juan I also presented a project to re-start the war against Portugal, but his plan was
rejected, even by his counsellors.23 Shortly afterwards, on October 9 in Castile, King
Juan I passed away, having fallen from his horse, and left his throne to his son Enrique
III, who was only eleven years of age.
This favoured Portuguese interests and meant that on May 15, 1393, an agreement
was reached for what was now a fifteen-year truce with Lisbon. Despite this, there were
still some Portuguese attacks on Badajoz and Castilian offensive operations in Beira (as
far as Viseu) and in the Alentejo (in particular on the left bank of the Guadiana). How
ever, it was clear that the war was essentially over. Even so, João I wished to sign a last
ing peace and, between May and July 1398, attacked Galicia once more, taking Salvaterra
de Miño, Sotomayor, and Tui, which was followed by the siege of Valencia de Alcántara,
near the Tagus river, in May 1400. Despite the manpower deployed (four thousand lanc
ers and many foot soldiers and crossbowmen), this siege was a failure.
Throughout 1402, a series of negotiations took place, which resulted in a new ten-
year truce until, on Christmas Day, 1406, the premature death of Enrique III led to a
two-year-old child, Juan II, son of Catherine of Lancaster, sister of the Portuguese queen,
being placed on the Castilian throne. This helped the Portuguese, with Catherine shar
ing the regency with her brother-in-law Fernando “de Antequera,” who would become
king of Aragon in 1412. As a result, on October 31, 1411, a peace agreement was signed
in Segovia between Portugal and Castile, putting an end to more than four decades of
disputes between the two kingdoms.
23 Ayala, Crónica del rey don Juan, Año Séptimo, chap. 15, 602–3 and Año Doceno, chaps. 1–3 and
5, 650–60 and 662–67.
It was now clear that peninsular hegemony of Castile could not involve the annexa
tion of Portugal. It is true that the accord was dependent on being ratified by Juan II
when he reached the age of majority to govern (the confirmation of peace in fact took
place on April 30, 1423, albeit for the limited period of eleven years), but war never
broke out again and from the second decade of the fifteenth century onwards, João I
was able to govern in peace and safety, which enabled him to undertake other projects,
including the conquest of Ceuta on August 21, 1415. This constituted the first Portu
guese territorial possession in Africa and symbolically marked the start of Portuguese
overseas expansion. This was the era when the country would expand beyond its Iberian
borders, providing an example which would later be followed by several other nations,
starting with Castile.
Finally, on October 30, 1431, in Medina del Campo, a “perpetual peace” accord was
solemnly signed between Portugal and Castile. João I, whose reign was the longest in
Portuguese secular history, could breathe deeply. Two years later, at the beginning of the
night of August 13 to 14, 1433 (on the forty-eighth anniversary of the battle of Aljubar
rota), the so-called King of “Good Memory” uttered his last breath in Lisbon, and was
buried in the beautiful Monastery of Batalha (nowadays a UNESCO World Heritage site),
close to Leiria, which he had built to celebrate the victory obtained on the São Jorge
plateau. He still lies there today, beside his queen, Philippa of Lancaster, in an exquisite
joint tomb: the great victor of Aljubarrota, the conqueror of Ceuta, the man of multiple
military victories who, along with his children (among them Henry “The Navigator”),
helped to change the history of Portugal and the world.
Chapter 6
CONTEMPORARY MEMORY AND MYTH-MAKING
MARIA CRISTINA PIMENTA
The military victory of the King of Portugal at Aljubarrota can now be revis
ited through examining his legacy as an expression of a historical memory inseparable
from the identity of the Portuguese people. And because it is a memory, it lies within a
multiplicity of facets which force us to view different aspects of a past that has become
mythical. Indeed, we must go further, beyond the military event itself and link it with a
concerted policy of idolization of the Avis dynasty involving the figures of the monarch
João I himself and his Constable, Nuno Á� lvares Pereira. This is not a “memory with no
faces.” In this regard, it is worth remembering the sound words of Annarita Gori when
she wrote:
The epic period which forms the basis of the Portuguese idea of saudade is not only that
of the Age of the Discoveries, but is chosen for the importance and force it had for the
redemption of the Portuguese Nation. As such, alongside the characters connected with
the maritime expansion of Portugal such as Vasco da Gama or Afonso de Albuquerque, we
can also find those leading the battles for the conquest, independence, and restoration
of Portugal, amongst which are the hero of the battle at Ourique, King Afonso Henriques,
and the Holy Constable Nun’Á�lvares Pereira, the leader of the Battle of Aljubarrota.1
The Avis Dynasty, through a broad programme of action, carried out a veritable re
founding of the kingdom, based on three pillars built in the space of two short years
(1385–1386). The institutional pillar was put in place at the Cortes of Coimbra by the
election of the Master of Avis as King of Portugal (April 1385), the military pillar was
formed by the victory at the Battle of Aljubarrota (August 1385), and the diplomatic
pillar was made possible by the signing of the Portuguese-English alliance in Windsor
(May 1386).2 The aim of this chapter is to look more deeply at the legacy of the military
dimension, based on the sources at our disposal: texts produced during the Middle Ages
and preserved in later narratives—at which point they sometimes took on an even more
exalted and pronounced translation.3 The military feat—made mythical by the genera
tions which claimed to be its heirs—was considered foundational when, in times when
the kingdom ran the risk of losing its independence, this victory was revived and pre
sented as divinely inspired.
1 Gori, “Festa da Pátria: Nun’Á� lvares Pereira, herói e santo,” Ler História 59 (2010): 139–59,
https://journals.openedition.org/lerhistoria/1355.
2 Luí�s Adão da Fonseca, “O segundo ciclo (1367–1495) e os seus momentos-chave (1383–85;
1449; 1494–95),” in Fonseca, Entre Portugal e a Galiza, 40.
3 See, among others, the analyses carried out in A Memória da Nação, ed. Bethencourt and Curto.

198.91.37.2 on Wed, 19 Aug 2020 05:07:33 UTC
76 Maria Cristina Pimenta
Four Narrative Sources

First and foremost, let us consider the writings which are chronologically closest to this
battle. These essentially come from two chronicles of the first half of the fifteenth cen
tury, one regal: the Crónica de D. João I (that is, Chronicle of King João I), by Fernão Lopes4
and the Crónica do Condestabre (or Chronicle of the Constable also known as the Estória
de D. Nuno Álvares Pereira),5 the latter anonymous, biographical but bordering on hagi
ographical. Both were written between the 1430s and 1440s.6 We can compare the ver
sion of the same events by Pero López de Ayala (1332–1407),7 chancellor and chronicler
of the King of Castile, Juan I, and the Frenchman Jean Froissart’s words on this battle.8
Within the framework of the Hundred Years’ War, Aljubarrota brought together more
than just the particular interests of the Portuguese and Castilians, so these two foreign
chroniclers are instructive.
The sources present the perspectives of each of their authors. So, in addition to the inev
itable panegyric around which regal chroniclers form their texts, such narratives record the
way in which the society of the time appropriated and saw itself within its own past. Texts
of this nature, regardless of their differences, present a committed discursive type9—the
chronicle—which shapes the understanding one can have of the reality of a period.
For a Portuguese chronicler, the aim of exalting the kingdom, the monarch, and all
the episodes related to them is clear. Such a chronicle will tend to emphasize the legiti
macy of a monarchy, an element which, at the Avis Court, was crucial. A new king, a new
dynasty, and a decisive battle to strengthen both are inseparable elements which are
used to justify the central purpose underlying the narrative.
Fernão Lopes is an emblematic name within the Portuguese cultural tradition. How
ever, despite his importance, few details of the chronicler’s life are known. He was born
between 1318 and 1390 and he was definitely still alive in 1459.10 He had privileged
4 Lopes, Crónica del Rei Dom João I, Parte Primeira and Parte Segunda.
5 Written between 1431 and 1437. See also the Estória do Condestável, facsimile of the first
edition (1526) with studies by Manuel Cadafaz de Matos (Lisbon: Távola Redonda, 2010).
6 Teresa Amado, “Crónica de D. João I” and “Crónica do Condestabre,” in Dicionário de Literatura
Medieval Galega e Portuguesa, 180–82 and 186–88 respectively; Leal, “Nuno Á� lvares: sí�mbolo e mito
nos séculos,” 148–50; Gilberto Moiteiro, “Sobre Nun’Á�lvares Pereira […] Notas historiográficas,”
Lusitania Sacra 22 (2010): 203–22 at 215–17 and Monteiro, Nuno Álvares Pereira, guerreiro, senhor
feudal e santo, 38–51.
7 Ayala, Crónica del rey don Juan. According to Covadonga Valdaliso Casanova, “La obra croní�stica
de Pedro López de Ayala y la sucesión monárquica en la corona de castilla,” Edad Media. Revista
Historia 12 (2011): 196n4: “Ayala’s steps can be followed relatively easily. In the period between
1369 and 1407, the year of his death, he spent long periods at court, interrupted by his journeys to
Aragon, Portugal, and France, and his months in prison following Aljubarrota.”
8 See also Jean Froissart—Crónicas: duas passagens relativas a Aljubarrota, trans. by Ana Sofia
Laranjinha.
9 Armindo de Sousa, “Os cronistas e o imaginário no século XV (Breve reflexão sobre a crónica
enquanto discurso),” Revista de Ciências Históricas 9 (1994): 43–47 at 43.
10 Monteiro, Fernão Lopes, texto e contexto, 72 and Teresa Amado, “Fernão Lopes,” in Dicionário
de Literatura Medieval Galega e Portuguesa, 271–73.

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Contemporary Memory and Myth-Making 77
access to the sources of the kingdom given that he occupied the post of chief guardian of
the Torre do Tombo, where the most important documents in Portuguese history were
kept. Lopes was also general notary of the kingdom, and he wrote three chronicles on
kings Pedro I, Fernando I, and João I at the express request of King Duarte (1433–1438).11
This chronicler, living close to the court and surrounded by the cultural environment
cultivated there, “had access to the popularization of the classics […], knew the Bible
and the Church Fathers […] and would have shared the taste at court for chivalric novels,
especially concerning [the matière de] Bretagne.”12
The trilogy of these royal chronicles, has been widely studied,13 with a priviliged
focus on the framework involving the death of King Fernando, in 1383, which started
the debate around the legitimacy of Beatriz, his daughter, married to Juan I, King of
Castile to succede to the Portuguese throne. Lopes needed to have a propagandist ele
ment focusing on establishing João, Master of Avis, on the throne as the most suitable
candidate for the succession, likewise a “Lisbon Messiah” who, through God’s will, was
destined to rescue Portugal from Castilian dominance. Further, as Luí�s Adão da Fonseca
has noted,14 in the era of King Duarte, the period when the chronicles were written,
it had also become essential to provide a clear message over Portuguese and Castilian
relations, a time when the King of Portugal was married to an Aragonese princess.15 The
period when the chronicle was written was fraught and lacking consensus: the politi
cal crisis following the death of King Duarte was experienced by Lopes and might, as
has been suggested, have influenced him to draw parallels between the situation in
1383–1385 and what was taking place in the fifteenth century.16
While he did attempt to present accurate information (since Fernão Lopes worked
closely with documents of the period), it is also true that other concerns perme
ate his discourse, especially the need to stress the king’s charismatic vocation17 and
an ambience full of messianic prophecies18 which characterizes the image of King
11 The monarch granted him a tenancy to the amount of fourteen thousand reais, by letter dated
March 19, 1434. Luí�s Miguel Duarte, D. Duarte (Lisbon: Cí�rculo de Leitores, 2005), 217.
13 Monteiro, Fernão Lopes, texto e contexto.
14 Fonseca, “Polí�tica e cultura nas relações luso-castelhanas,” 55–56.
15 See Duarte, D. Duarte, 214.
16 Isabel Margarida Duarte, “O relato de discurso na Crónica de D. João I (I Parte) de Fernão
Lopes,” in Língua Portuguesa: Estruturas, usos e contrastes, ed. Fernanda Irene Fonseca, Isabel
Margarida Duarte, Ana Maria Brito, and Joana Guimarães (Porto: Universidade do Porto, Centro de
Linguí�stica, 2003), 196–97.
17 The roots of this concept lie with John of Salisbury, the twelfth-century philosopher and
thinker. See Adriana Maria de Souza Zierer, “O papel da guerra na legitimação simbólica de D. João I,
o Messias de Lisboa (1383/1385–1433),” MÉTIS: história & cultura 6, no. 11 (2007): 220–36.
18 Coelho, D. João I, 69–74. On this matter see Teresa Amado, Fernão Lopes, contador de Histórias.
Sobre a Crónica de D. João I (Lisbon: Estampa, 1991), 38–39; Luí�s Sousa Rebelo, A concepção do
poder em Fernão Lopes (Lisbon: Horizonte, 1983), 68–71; Margarida Garcês Ventura, O Messias de
Lisboa. Um estudo de Mitologia Política (1383–1415) (Lisbon: Cosmos, 1992), 35–42; and Zierer, “O
papel da guerra na legitimação simbólica de D. João I.”

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João I.19 In this sense, and espe

cially in the Crónica de D. João
I, Lopes provides the reader
with a well-organized and well
thought out text, often focused
on a “personalized and timely
imagination, conscious and
unconscious, which decides
on the scope and degree of
emphasis of the facts to be told
or omitted, to be valued or less
ened, and so often to misrepre
sent,” in the words of Armindo
de Sousa.20 Fernão Lopes, due
to the importance of his work,
became crucial in projecting
these memories which were so
appreciative of the Portuguese
kingdom that they developed
into identity traits of Portu
guese nationality.
The Portuguese victory at
the Battle of Aljubarrota, inso
far as it embodied the politi
cal affirmation of the king of
Portugal, held a prominent
place in the writings of Lopes; Figure 1: Chronica do Condestabre de Portugal.
indeed, the chronicler estab Lisbon, 1526.
lished a reference-point that
would be followed by those
who succeeded him.21 Just to give one example, mention can be made of the work of the
chronicler Rui de Pina (1440–1522/1523) in which, to further enhance the first king of
the Avis dynasty, he accentuates the “good death” of King João I by altering the day when
it occured. In fact, Pina dates this death as August 14, 1433, a day which, among other
coincidences, evoked the celebration of the Battle of Aljubarrota, fought years previ
ously while in reality, the monarch passed away on August 13, at the end of the day.22
19 See Monteiro, Nuno Álvares Pereira, guerreiro, senhor feudal e santo, 57–63.
20 Sousa, “Os cronistas e o imaginário no século XV,” 45.
21 Marinho, O Sonho de Aljubarrota, 10.
22 Armindo de Sousa, “A morte de D. João I,” in Lucerna: Homenagem a D. Domingos de Pinho
Brandão (Porto: Centro de estudos humaní�sticos, 1984), 417–87.

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Aljubarrota also featured in the Crónica do Condestabre, which Fernão Lopes used;
a biographical text on Nuno Á� lvares Pereira, much studied by Portuguese historians.23
Written between 1431 and 1437,24 no manuscript version is extant,25 so it is impor
tant to mention the 1526 “princeps edition,” published in Lisbon by the French printer
Germão Galharde, and basis of many other editions.26 It is considered anonymous, but,
recently, João Gouveia Monteiro hypothesized that the responsibility for the text could
be attributed to Gil Airas, a man who was always close to the Constable.27
As the need to magnify the achievements of King João I had lessened over time and,
given that its main aim was exalting of heroism, the narrative on the Battle of Aljubar
rota is of great interest because it involves the intervention of Nuno Á� lvares Pereira who,
here, above all, is presented on the battlefield.28
And the Constable, taking the lead of his forefront […], said repeatedly: Oh, Portuguese,
fight, sons and lords, for your king and for your land!29
Meanwhile, foreign accounts should counterbalance these reflections. Chief among

these is Jean Froissart (ca. 1337–ca. 1404/1405), born in Hainaut, who moved to
England in the 1360s, finding shelter at the court of King Edward III. A man close to
English influence, his Chroniques report numerous events of the Hundred Years’ War,
particularly before 1400. On Portugal, and more precisely, on Aljubarrota, Froissart
had the opportunity to perfect his discourse through personal acquaintance with João
Fernandes Pacheco, a Portuguese man who was a hero in the battles of Trancoso and
Aljubarrota and who ended up transferring his allegiance to the king of Castile, Enrique
III.30 Given this switch, it is likely that the information provided by Pacheco to the chroni
23 Some interesting information about this work can be found in: António Manuel da Costa Guedes
Branco, “Emergência de um herói (estudo da Crónica do Condestável)” (PhD diss., Universidade
do Algarve, 1998); Aires Augusto do Nascimento, Nuno de Santa Maria—Fragmentos de Memória
Persistente (Lisbon: Associação Regina Mundi, 2010), Monteiro, Nuno Álvares Pereira, guerreiro,
senhor feudal e santo, 38–51, among others.
24 Monteiro, Nuno Álvares Pereira, guerreiro, senhor feudal e santo, 38–39.
25 The text was updated between 1461 and 1478/1481 according to recent research by Monteiro,
Nuno Álvares Pereira, guerreiro, senhor feudal e santo, 41–42.
26 Coronica do condestabre de purtugall Nuno Aluarez Pereyra (1526); then Coronica do
Condestabre de Portugall dom Nuno Alvrez Pereyra principiador da casa de Bragãça (Lisbon: Germão
Galharde, 1554); Coronica do Condestabre de Portugal dom NunAlvrez Pereyra principiador da casa
de Bragança (Lisbon: António Á� lvares, 1623), among others.
28 Of the eighty chapters given over to the chronicle, Monteiro (Nuno Álvares Pereira, guerreiro,
senhor feudal e santo, 40–41) indicates “more than half of the chapters” focus on his military feats.
Its late publication, in the sixteenth century, raises interesting questions such as those made by
Diogo Ramada Curto, including the meaning of the “saintly knight” versus other models of knights
in the chronicles of the feats of the Portuguese overseas. See also “Lí�ngua e memória,” in História de
Portugal, ed. Mattoso, 3:371.
29 Estoria de Dom Nuno Alvrez Pereyra, ed. Calado, 119.
30 Monteiro, “Fernão Lopes e os cronistas coevos,” 40.

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cler enabled “a more balanced vision of both sides, Portuguese and Castilian.”31 His pas
sages regarding the battle are curious, starting with the very title he gave to the chap
ter in question: “Regarding the marvellous and lamentable battle which took place at
Aljubarrota between the king of Castile and the king of Portugal.”32
The same was the case with the work of Pedro López de Ayala (1332–1407), whose
chronicle concerns the kingdoms of the kings of Castile–Leon, Pedro I, Enrique II, Juan
I, and Enrique III. Ayala turns out to be a unique figure within the framework of penin
sular chronology due to the political events expressed in his writings. His chronicles (as
well as those of Fernão Lopes) accentuated a propagandist tendency after Pedro I was
assassinated by his half-brother, Enrique II, in 1369, thus giving rise to a new Castilian
dynasty, the Trastâmaras. As has been stated: “If we accept that it was Henry II who
commissioned Ayala to write the chronicle of D. Pedro, as was stated in the fifteenth
century, we must understand that, with such events being recent and Enrique’s posi
tion being unstable, the project would have a markedly propagandistic nature and an
unequivocally legitimizing intentionality.”33 It is interesting to note that “the objectivity
of which Ayala boasts in his prologue, and which he calls ‘truth’, is his objectivity, since
he starts from his perspective as a person and from his perception of the facts.”34
However, Pedro López de Ayala was a privileged witness of what he recounted later
and, despite having shown himself averse to war between Portugal and Castile, he had
to support the decision of his king. As a member of the nobility, he also had a personal
interest in defending his own patrimony located in Portugal (which he had received from
the king of Castile before the battle).35 He participated in Aljubarrota, was captured, and
remained a prisoner of Portuguese troops in the castle at Ó� bidos for more than two years.36
31 Floriani Saccomori, “Guilherme, guerreiros e batalhas na mira de Jean Froissart (1337–1405):

cenários em transformação” (master’s thesis, Universidade Federal do Paraná, 2015), 12, https://
acervodigital.ufpr.br/handle/1884/38788.
32 “Onde se fala de uma mui maravilhosa e triste batalha que foi em Aljubarrota entre o rei de
Portugal e o rei de Castela.” Quoted from Jean Froissart—Crónicas: duas passagens relativas a
Aljubarrota, trans. by Ana Sofia Laranjinha, 24.
33 “Si aceptamos que fue Enrique II quien encargó a Ayala que escribiese la crónica de don Pedro,
tal y como se afirmaba en el siglo XV, debemos entender que, estando como estaban tan recientes
los sucesos y siendo como era tan inestable la posición de Enrique, el proyecto tendrí�a en origen un
carácter marcadamente propagandí�stico y una intencionalidad decididamente legitimadora.” Cited
from Covadonga Valdaliso Casanova, “La dimensión polí�tica de la obra croní�stica de Pedro López de
Ayala,” in Autour de Pedro Lopez de Ayala, ed. Rica Amrán (Paris: Indigo, 2009), 193. On this same subject
see her, “Discursos de legitimación de la dinastí�a Trastámara (1366–1388),” in Ruptura i legitimació
dinàstica a l’Edad Mitjana, ed. Flocel Sabaté i Curull, and Maite Pedrol (Lleida: Pagès, 2015), 127–42.
34 “[L]a propia objetividad de la que Ayala hace gala en su prólogo, y a la que llama ‘verdad,’ es
su objetividad, pues parte de su perspectiva como sujeto y de su percepción de los hechos,” as
Covadonga Valdaliso Casanova wrote in “El tiempo como herramienta para el análisis de las
crónicas de Pedro López de Ayala,” Revista de poética medieval 22 (2009): 199–220 at 210.
35 Luí�s Suárez Fernández, “Don Pedro López de Ayala. Un alaves clave de tres reinados,” in Autour
de Pedro López de Ayala, 9–109 at 48 and 74–75.
36 H. Salvador Martí�nez, “El Cisma de Occidente en el Rimado de Palacio,” in Autour de Pedro
López de Ayala, 241–61 at 253: “from where he would not leave until the family had paid a

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Ayala was an important witness for all these reasons, but above all because the chroni
cler observed first-hand the reality within the Castilian armies.
1385 as Paradigmatic Historical Moment for Portugal

What was at question in this battle was, in fact, of the greatest importance for the his
tory of the Iberian kingdoms at the end of the fourteenth century. And it is true that,
years after 1385, there were still issues between Portugal and Castile to be discussed
and problems to be resolved. But, for all intents and purposes, August 14, 1385 has
always been considered as a paradigmatic moment in the history of Portugal. Between
the lines of the chronicler’s text, regardless of its provenance, lies the tailored image
passed on to later chronologies about this “Royal Battle.” In addition to the multiple
uses and readings that would be made of it in the future—which we will address
later—there are some images which, since they are too strong in terms of the message
they focus on, should be reflected upon individually. Let us now turn to the battle and
its heroes.
Irrespective of how each of the rulers of the fifteenth century governed the king
dom, they all strived to consolidate or, at least, celebrate the reigning Avis dynasty. They
did so in various ways, but keeping alive the memory of Aljubarrota was an extremely
important aspect. Honouring the battle,37 besides showing what it meant to contempo
raries, served as a vehicle to exalt the two main characters, King João I and Nuno Á� lvares
Pereira, his Constable.
King João I
King João’s rise to power, affirmed at both the Cortes de Coimbra and in the battle at São
Jorge, and the constant presence of Nuno Á� lvares Pereira beside him, almost mystically
linked to the founder of the dynasty, formed the Leitmotif for the affirmation of the
kingdom itself. Fernão Lopes, as we have just seen, exalted this by constructing a tril
ogy of chronicles (Pedro I, father of the Master of Avis; Fernando, brother of the Master
of Avis; and João I, the Master of Avis himself, made king of Portugal). The three chroni
cles present a coherent sequence that exalts João I as founder of the dynasty: his father,
Pedro I, is presented with limited praise; then his brother, Fernando I the Handsome,
is condemned by the chronicler for his questionable intrusion into the internal poli
tics of Castile; and, finally, João I himself, inherited the throne, saved the kingdom, and
brought glory to the Portuguese people both then and in the future to all who retain a
“good memory” of him.38 It is worth recalling, as João Gouveia Monteiro has done,39 the
considerable ransom: thirty thousand golden doblas, thirty horses, and the delivery of his firstborn
son, Fernando, as hostage […].” On Ayala in captivity at Ó� bidos, see also Garcí�a, “Ayala y sus
crónicas,” 56–58.
37 Texts that emphasize the merit of military character are important for the subject presented
here. See Zierer, O papel da guerra na legitimação simbólica de D. João I, 215–41.
39 Monteiro, Fernão Lopes, texto e contexto, 82–83.

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Figure 2: Coronica
do Condeestabre
d’Portugall, 1554.
increasing number of chapters in each of the three chronicles—forty-four (Pedro I),

178 (Fernando), and 397 (João I)—to understand that Lopes’s main protagonist was
always João I.
It is no wonder then, that in the Crónica del Rei Dom João I da boa memória. Parte
Primeira, the author uses divine prophecies and signs to proclaim a redeeming “Master/
Messiah,” capable of bringing together special qualities in one individual. In reality, the
messianic perspective serves to justify the political actions of João, the son of the old
King Pedro I, as someone destined to be king,40 consecrating the Dynasty of Avis, always
“because it was God’s will.”41
40 Zierer, “A influência da Bí�blia na construção da imagem de D. João I.”

41 “Ca a Deos prazia.” Lopes, Crónica del Rei Dom João I, Parte Primeira, chap. 24, 49.

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Fernão Lopes goes even further, making a “seventh worldly” kingdom correspond
to the Johannine prophetical era, the one “in which a new world was born, and a new
generation of people, because the children of men of such a low condition; […] for their
good service and work, were then made knights, giving themselves new lineages and
surnames. Others look to old nobilities, of an immemorial name, for dignities and hon
ours and offices of the kingdom that this Lord as Master, and then as King, established
that henceforth their descendants are called nobles and held in high esteem.”42
The image of João I was constructed within the gradual progression imposed by the
text, with the chronicler being faithful to an initial humility which the Master of Avis
retained: “the Master, when he took charge as guardian and defender of the kingdom,
regardless of the reasons spoken by Friar João da Barroca, his intention was not to
reign,”43 since he had taken on this role on behalf of a brother, also called João, impris
oned in Castile.44
We observe, therefore, an accumulation of virtues that did nothing more than pre
pare the generations to come for the exemplarity of this monarch and his family. This
tone would certainly appear in the second part of the same chronicle, for example, when
Lopes describes the preparation for the battle, between chapters 21 and 40. We read
these indicative words showing this providentialism: “it was the will of God that the flag
of Castile was defeated.”45 This aspect would continue to be evident throughout the text,
because the monarch, loyal to the papacy in Rome, had assumed this virtuous state by
giving “the cross of the redeeming Passion of Christ to the arms of Portugal.”46
By contrast, the portrait that the chronicler leaves us of the king of Castile, Juan
I, after his defeat at Aljubarrota, shows what he wishes to reinforce. The Castilian
king states (and Fernão Lopes uses direct speech): “Oh God, what a bad and unlucky
king! Oh Lord give me death here where I am, for I have had no fortune to die with
my own!” Furthermore, the chronicler provides Juan I of Castile with the answer to
his indignation, in the form of a whimper, when, after the Battle of Aljubarrota, he
invokes disbelief regarding the condition of his opponent: “And who beat me and dis
graced me? I was overcome by the Master of Avis in Portugal who never in his life did
a deed worth mentioning.”47 This portrayal of the king of Castile as a bad loser serves
to praise the king of Portugal further and clearly demonstrates the straightforward
ness of Lopes’s text.
42 Lopes, Crónica del Rei Dom João I, Parte Primeira, chap. 158, 349–50.
44 Another son of the King of Portugal, Pedro I (1357–1367) and Inês de Castro, with whom the
monarch maintained a long-lasting relationship. See also Pimenta, D. Pedro I, esp. 108–18.
46 Coelho, D. João I, 253. The messianic aspect of King João I can be found in Zierer, “A influência
da Bí�blia na construção da imagem de D. João I,” esp. 124–25.

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Constable Nuno Álvares Pereira

Next in the narrative comes the figure at the side of João I: the Constable Nuno Á� lvares
Pereira,48 “Warrior, Feudal and Holy Lord”49, whose actions consolidated his heroism but
also, as a mirror image, that of the victorious king.
Nuno was born within the ancestral Pereira family, one of the sons of the prior of the
Order of Hospitallers, Á� lvaro Gonçalves Pereira, a man close to the monarchs Afonso IV
and Pedro I, with the latter being the king that granted his offspring’s legitimacy.50 Main
taining this proximity to the royal court during the reign of King Fernando, Nuno built
up an enviable portfolio of landholdings51 which would have been considerably enlarged
when, after the victory of Aljubarrota, he was made Count of Barcelos, as well as lord
of various villages and lands from the north and south of Portugal.52 The Constable of
Portugal appears, in fact, as the person most convinced that a victory at Aljubarrota was
of the greatest merit for the king of Portugal. In the text, Nuno Á� lvares Pereira appears to
have done everything for that to happen. In so doing, he fulfilled his destiny.
Fernão Lopes introduces Nuno to the reader in chapter 31 of the first volume of
the Chronicle, when he leaves any judgement of his future actions open; a remarkable
figure, but subject to criticism, if necessary.53 This is an important, possibly innovative,
feature in Lopes.54 This “Lopesian prudence” is perhaps explained by the period when
this Chronicle was being written (the 1430s). To understand this decade better we need
to recall the peace agreement between the Portuguese and Castilians (1431), the Portu
guese nobility being divided between companies in different parts of Africa, the death
of the king of Portugal and leaving a child who was a minor (1438), and, finally, the start
of what would prove to be a long and difficult campaign for a civil war which would
terminate in the Battle of Alfarrobeira, in 1449. This means that Lopes understood pos
48 On the Chronicle of João I by Fernão Lopes and the figure of the Constable the work of Ana
Margarida Coelho Guerreiro Casimiro is of interest, A apropriação ideológica da figura de Nuno
Álvares, 27ff. See, also, and of the utmost interest, the summary of the historiographic work on
Nuno Á� lvares Pereira in Moiteiro, “Sobre Nun’Á�lvares Pereira […] Notas historiográficas.”
49 I quote here the subtitle of the recently published book by Monteiro, Nuno Álvares Pereira,
guerreiro, senhor feudal e santo.
50 On the father of Nuno Á� lvares Pereira, see Paula Pinto Costa, “Á� lvaro Gonçalves Pereira, um
homem entre a oração e a construção patrimonial como estratégia de consolidação familiar,”
Revista População e Sociedade 23 (2015): 45–71.
52 Monteiro, Nuno Álvares Pereira, guerreiro, senhor feudal e santo, 181n152. See also, Coelho,
D. João I, 87 and 221 and Saúl António Gomes. “O condado de Ourém em tempos medievais,” in
Actas do Congresso Histórico D. Afonso, 4º Conde de Ourém e a sua época, ed. Carlos Ascenso André
(Ourém: Câmara Municipal, 2004), 93–56.
53 See also Teresa Amado, “Os pensamentos do cronista Fernão Lopes,” eHumanista 8 (2007):
133–42 at 138–39.
54 See Branco, “Emergência de um herói,” 178, writing that the “royal chronicler is building the
representation of the character in a progressive manner.”

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sibly very clearly, as Monteiro has written, his responsibility as the creator of a hero,
compared to St. Peter.55
Let us conclude by invoking an earlier text, known as the Livro de Linhagens do Conde
D. Pedro,56 produced between 1340 and 1344 by an illegitimate son of King Dinis of Por
tugal, with the primary aim of extolling the genealogy of the main noble families in the
kingdom, in this case the house of Barcelos, the lords of Portel, and the Military Order of
the Hospitallers, in whose circle the family of the count, the author of the work, moved.
This text was subject to additions and re-formulations later in the fourteenth century57
and, significantly, the “organized” version from 1380–1383 invokes the memory of the
Prior of the Hospitallers, Á� lvaro Gonçalves Pereira who was Nuno Á� lvares Pereira’s
father. This led the way for other works, now of seigneurial origin, to emphasize the role
of the Constable. Indeed, Nuno Á� lvares Pereira, member of the important families whose
legacy had already been organized at the end of the fourteenth century continued to
stand out in the writing of Fernão Lopes, as the exemplar for future generations where
medieval cavalry was concerned: a reborn Galahad from Arthurian imagery, a symbol of
a new world order with touches of the radical philosophy of Joachim of Fiore, who was
the most well-known representative of the Franciscans in Portugal, and a believer in the
Faith of the Church of Rome.58
The Constable of Portugal began to correspond to the image which the author
wished to transmit. There are many examples but let us recall two. Even before Aljubar
rota, in April 1384, near the Alentejo village of Fronteira, awaiting the Castilian advance
to halt the victory at Atoleiros (the battle which preceded Aljubarrota) Nuno Á� lvares
Pereira asked his troops to remember four things. The first was that they should entrust
themselves to God and to the Virgin Mary, His Mother, who wished to help them against
their enemies, for it was a just dispute that they had against them, and to hold firm in
their faith that it would be so. The second was how they would defend themselves and
their homes and goods, to free themselves of the subjection under which the King of Cas
tile wished to put them which flew in the face of reason and law. The third was how they
were there to serve their master and achieve great honour that God would be pleased to
give them. The fourth was that they remained firm and work and stubbornly fight in the
battle, not for one hour, but for one day if it had to be so.59
His belief in victory is apparent in another episode: on the eve of Aljubarrota, João
I, hesitant when faced with the immense disproportion between the numbers of his
55 Monteiro, Nuno Álvares Pereira, guerreiro, senhor feudal e santo, 62. See Lopes, Crónica del Rei
Dom João I, Parte Primeira, chap. 159.
56 See the editions: Livro de Linhagens do Conde D. Pedro, 2 vols, ed. José Mattoso (Lisbon:
Academia de Ciências de Lisboa, 1980) and Livro de Linhagens do Conde D. Pedro, ed. Brocardo. On
this book see Maria do Rosário Ferreira, “A estratégia genealógica de D. Pedro, Conde de Barcelos, e
as refundições do Livro de Linhagens,” e-Spania, 11 (2011): unpag.
57 Luí�s Krus, “Historiografia Medieval,” in Dicionário de Literatura Medieval Galega e Portuguesa,
313–15.
58 Rebelo, A Concepção do poder em Fernão Lopes, 85.

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troops and those of Juan I of Castile, considered postponing the battle. There, the Con
stable declared:
I always felt that it was your wish, but now if you change your purpose […] you may do
what your mercy wants, but I never intend to change mine; and from henceforth do as
you wish, for I do not wish to speak more of this.60
Essentially, it is this way of being and thinking that characterizes him and shapes
his image. In the mixture of feelings that the character awakens in us, we can find an
emblematic symbol of the same feelings: his banner, divided into four quarters, show
ing Christ on the cross, with the Virgin and St. John; the Virgin with Jesus on her lap;
St. George kneeling; and, finally, St. James, also at prayer. The meaning of these images
transports the reader into a universe of faith, recalling perseverance, courage, and other
virtues; indeed, signs of an intense spirituality centred on Our Lady, but also virtues
suitable for a chivalrous nature.61
Is it too much to think that the design of this shield also relates to more earthly
choices which were decisive for the success of the new dynasty? Does St. George not
recall a military hero for England (for whom George is the patron saint), the strategic
and diplomatic choice of King João I who would sign the Treaty of Windsor in 1386 and
marry Philippa of Lancaster in 1387? Did, for identical reason, the Constable make the
same choice for the figurative elements on his banner?62
The Crónica do Condestabre (written between 1431 and 1437), in fact used by Lopes,
also offers another view of Nuno Á� lvares Pereira, certainly complementary to the previ
ous one. In a recent analysis, Monteiro explained this in detail when writing that:
The portrait [drawn by this text is that] of a very special knight […], constantly involved
in action (in the Arthurian novelesque sense), who showed himself from early on as
someone predestined for war […[, moved by a hardly contained anxiety to be a protago
nist and with a good name […]; a gentleman who placed the interests of his native land
above those of his family […], always anxious to fight major combats and field battles […],
but also endowed with the gift of speech and persuasion […]; a brave man who through
his military merits quickly became a legend.”63
With these words, we are quickly transported to the scenes of the “Royal Battle” where,
indeed, he did what was expected of him. He served his king and his kingdom. Nuno
Á� lvares Pereira, once again following Monteiro, emerges as a “kind of ‘consciousness of
61 Monteiro, Nuno Álvares Pereira, guerreiro, senhor feudal e santo, 254–67. Further work on
the Constable banner exists in Ernesto Castro Leal, “A Cruzada Nacional D. Nuno Á� lvares Pereira
e as origens do Estado Novo (1918–1938),” Análise Social 33, no. 148 (1998): 823–51 at 843,
http://analisesocial.ics.ul.pt/documentos/1221844195Y5tKQ1wv2Fi36ZC7.pdf, and Luí�s Adão da
Fonseca, “Nuno Á� lvares Pereira. Uma reflexão,” in Olhares de hoje sobre uma vida de ontem. Nuno
Álvares Pereira: homem, herói e santo, ed. Humberto Oliveira, Cristina Moita, and Ismael Teixeira
(Lisbon: Universidade Lusí�ada Editora / Ordem do Carmo em Portugal, 2009), 171–84 at 181.
62 In a comment made on November 7, 2015 at the Associação de Auditores dos Cursos de Defesa
Nacional in Porto, Luí�s Adão da Fonseca pointed out this possible interpretation.
63 Monteiro, Nuno Álvares Pereira, guerreiro, senhor feudal e santo, 43. The author goes on to list
a series of behavioural aspects intrinsic to the Constable in the Chronicle (43–44).

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Plate 4: King João I of Portugal Makes a Vow to the Virgin Mary that if he wins the Battle of
Aljubarrota (1385) against Castile, he will build a monastery on that site in gratitude.
the events,’ as a permanent reference for justice and reason, and therefore somewhat
beyond personal or group squabbles or petty rivalries. He (and his troops) did not suffer
any scratches from their involvement in the war. Nuno Alvares was always a man who
achieved the right choices and safe victories.”64
Therefore, it is not surprising that on the occasion of his death, Duarte, King of Por
tugal and successor to King João I, requested, for the funeral of the Constable, refer
64 Monteiro, “Fernão Lopes e os cronistas coevos,” 51.

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ence being made to his warrior virtues, as well as his manifestations of loyalty and piety,
stressing the example that Nuno Á� lvares had been for knights: “by truly and loyally lov
ing his lord the king, to whom he had always been loyal and obedient, and by living in
harmony and understanding with everyone.” Naturally—and perhaps it should even be
highlighted—this is an idealized vision, belonging to a ceremony that was conceived as
an instrument of royal propaganda.65
Memories of Devotion
Placed alongside the portraits left by the chronicler regarding these two protagonists
of the “Royal Battle,” the reading obtained is, certainly, one of considerable comple
mentarity which in no way cancels out some moments of friction which are also known
(namely, about the technical decisions to be made, but above all friction resulting from
the status of great lord to which Nuno had been raised). Indeed, the references and dis
sensions between both contribute to accentuating the verisimilitude of their relation
ship and so considerably enhance the chronicle.
Overall, we have a positive image: they never trampled over each other, one never
undermined the actions of the other. Each one occupies their own place in the story.
Together, in the eyes of their contemporaries, they embodied the best that the kingdom
possessed.
Perhaps what best represents the future projection of these victorious heroes is the
devotional concern which both always showed. It is worth mentioning that Nuno Á� lva
res Pereira ordered the building in 1393 of a chapel on the battlefield in memory of
the vanguard of his army, stationed there on August 14, 1385.66 Likewise, the king, in
an even more exuberant gesture, following a vow made before the battle, ordered the
construction of a monastery in thanks to the victory over the Castilians. This vow led to
a stunning Late Gothic monument, commemorating all those who, to a greater or lesser
extent, had contributed to the success of the Portuguese at Aljubarrota.67
This was another form of celebrating their victory and as such it makes sense to use
the words of Bernardo Vasconcelos e Sousa when writing that:
Thus, the royal chronicles of the fifteenth century, and in particular the Crónica de D. João
I, may be incorporated within a wider “program” which included the building of tombs,
65 Aguiar, “Chivalry in Medieval Portugal,” 1–17 at 10. See also Monteiro, Nuno Álvares Pereira,
guerreiro, senhor feudal e santo, 68–69. Moreover, this same king was the one to ask the Holy See
to institute a process leading to the canonization of the Portuguese Constable. Like other attempts
in the seventeenth century, it is only later, in 1918, that he was beatified. Recently, in 2009, Pope
Benedict XVI proclaimed his canonization. See also Leal, “Nuno Á� lvares: sí�mbolo e mito nos
séculos,” 145ff and Catroga, “Ritualizações em História,” 574–76.
66 Aljubarrota Revisitada, ed. Monteiro, 7.
67 To this can also be added the pilgrimage of the monarch to Guimarães, in appreciation of the
success of the battle. “Between 1400 and 1401 the king was once again in Guimarães, accompanied
by Philippa of Lancaster and by the Infantes, to attend the consecration of the new church, which
had still not been finished.” See Lúcia Rosas and Paula Pinto Costa, “Locais de Peregrinação e de
Memória,” in Fonseca, Entre Portugal e a Galiza, 355.

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the founding of royal chapels, and the construction of royal palaces (such as Sintra) and
the Monastery of Santa Maria da Batalha, which evoked the victory over the Castilian
armies at the Battle of Aljubarrota (14 August, 1385).68
In addition to being the expression of the royal vow before Aljubarrota, the Monastery
of Batalha, when configured as the Royal Pantheon for this family, took on an even more
visible importance. This occurred in King Duarte’s reign when he ordered the transfer of
the mortal remains of his parents, King João I and Philippa of Lancaster, to the Founders’
Chapel (Capela do Fundador) in that same monastery. Over time “the organization of
space […] with the distribution of each of the children around King João I and Philippa
of Lancaster, clearly showed the purpose of making the unity of the Avis family live on.”69
These monuments completed one of the most visible examples of a series of actions
promoting this family70, in which the text of the royal chronicles by Fernão Lopes played
a pivotal part.
68 “Medieval Portuguese Royal Chronicles. Topics in a Discourse of Identity and Power,” e-Journal
of Portuguese History 5, no. 2 (December 2007): unpag.
69 Luí�s Adão da Fonseca, “Í�nclita Geração. Altos Infantes (Lusí�adas.IV.50). Algumas considerações
sobre a importância das circunstâncias históricas na formação de um tema literário,” in Actas da IVª
Reunião Internacional de Camonistas (Ponta Delgada, 1984), 299; Luí�s Adão da Fonseca, “A morte
como tema de propaganda polí�tica na historiografia e na poesia portuguesa do século XV,” Biblos 69
(1993): 507–38 at 520–23.
70 See also Fonseca, “Polí�tica e cultura nas relações luso-castelhanas,” 56. In this study, the author
presents other examples of dynastic promotion which extended until the end of the fifteenth
century.

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Chapter 7
THE LEGACY FOR LATER MEMORIES
MARIA CRISTINA PIMENTA
The centuries after the Battle of Aljubarrota presented different images of

the event, but always exalted the victory and those involved. One example is the system
atic celebrations planned in 1387 and known through chapter 48 of the Crónica de D.
João I: “Let us endeavour now and always, in that week of the Assumption of the Blessed
Virgin, that every city to make three processions, one after the other.”1 It was not dif
ficult to maintain this form of commemoration. Indeed, “The procession commemorat
ing the Battle of Aljubarrota was held annually throughout the fifteenth and sixteenth
centuries,”2 not forgetting the many facets intertwined with the victory at Aljubarrota
which everyone wished to celebrate. From later information, it was likely that, every
year on August 14, this victory was celebrated in Guimarães, with a procession where
the pelisse3 of King João I “was placed transversely along with the actual lance of the
king, in sight of the people.”4
Far beyond these ceremonies or scenes that transport us back to the battle itself
(and to what, in political terms, it meant for the kingdom), we should remember what
was at stake in this revival, year after year, of the event itself. This was not empty reen
actment but conscious choices that, beyond how it favourably projected on the new
dynasty, presented a universe full of virtualities.
Clever devices were not needed to retain memories that would never again leave the
identity of the Portuguese, for there were ample reasons throughout the fifteenth cen
tury to keep the memory of King João I and his deeds intact in the “good memory” of his
successors. Little wonder: during the century, tensions simmered between Portugal and
Castile, as shown by the repeated attempts at agreements between both crowns (1411
and 1431) showing that, still in 1411, Aljubarrota did not seem decisive, and even in
the 1430s the peace that was supposed to be definitive needed to be handled with care.
1 Lopes, Crónica del Rei Dom João I, Parte Segunda, 130.

2 João, “Percursos da memória: centenários portugueses no século XIX,” 125.
3 This is a kind of collarless and sleeveless coat worn by the king at the Battle of Aljubarrota
over his armour. http://www.csarmento.uminho.pt/docs/ndat/pcaldas/PCaldas002e.pdf
4 It is mentioned as having taken place in the years 1605 and 1638 in Guimarães. João Francisco
Marques, “O ‘Retrato de Portugal Castelhano’ de Fr. Luí�s da Natividade no âmbito da Parenética
autonomista da década de 1630–1640,” Congresso histórico de Guimarães e sua colegiada. Actas,
5 vols. (Guimarães: [s.n.], 1982), 5:197–255 at 199 and 210, https://ch.guimaraes.pt/uploads/
actas/1CH/vol5/1ch-vol5-014.pdf. Further information on this subject from the same author
is available in A Parenética Portuguesa e a Dominação Filipina (Porto: Instituto Nacional de
Investigação Cientí�fica, 1986), 301–7. See also J. P. Bacelar e Oliveira, Guimarães e a missão cristã
de Portugal: sermão do pelote, comemorando o aniversário da batalha de Aljubarrota (Guimarães:
Câmara Municipal de Guimarães, 1954).

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Late Fifteenth Century to the Habsburg Dual Monarchy, 1580

The policy undertaken by King Duarte, of which the writing of the Crónica de D. João I
by Fernão Lopes is a good example, found remarkable continuity in his successors. Take
the reign of King João II (1481–1495), a monarch deeply involved in a complex relation
with Castile who stressed his interest in keeping alive the memory of the “Royal Battle.”
To this end, he gave the utmost solemnity to August 14, when he personally participated
in the procession “as an act of thanksgiving for the victory of Aljubarrota.”5 On this occa
sion, the monarch was in the city of É� vora and it was the year 1482. For the reader less
familiar with the history of Luso–Castilian relations at the end of the fifteenth century, it
is important to explain that, in the 1480s, although peace negotiations between the two
kingdoms were an enormous priority, the conditions imposed by both crowns did not
favour rapid results, much less simple ones. It is enough to remember that in that year,
the heirs of both Iberian monarchs (in the Portuguese case, the king’s only legitimate
son) were “kept under the guard of third parties,”6 a sign of the level of goodwill in nego
tiations over issues involving maritime circulation in the Atlantic.7 Under such circum
stances, reviving Aljubarrota and the celebration of its commemorative procession may
have had a political purpose beyond a devotional dimension.8
In the final years of the century, in 1495, immediately after signing the famous Treaty
of Tordesilhas (which divided up the maritime world and the navigable areas belonging
to Castile and to Portugal), King João II died, without a legitimate living heir to succeed
him to the throne of Portugal, which was then inherited by King Manuel I (1495–1521).9
This opened the door to experiments with new policies, as seen by Manuel’s repeated
marital strategy, three times married to Castilian Infantas.10 This new reality, however, in
no way impeded the maintenance of habits which, for more than a century, had formed
part of the daily life of the Portuguese. So, at the end of the commemorations for one
more August 14, King Manuel asked a Castilian friar:
Tell me, Friar, in Castille do you usually celebrate the victories achieved?
And the Friar answered: Sir, it is not customary for Castilians to rejoice over the vic
tories that they have achieved in the world, because there would not be enough days to
celebrate them during one year.11
5 Itinerários de El-Rei D. João II, 73.

6 This meant that, until the negotiations between the kingdoms were concluded, by written
provision in the 1489 Treaty of Alcáçovas-Toledo, the children were to be held in the town of Moura,
in the Alentejo. See also Fonseca, D. João II, 71.
7 See Fonseca, D. João II, 59–80.
8 Pimenta, A Padeira de Aljubarrota, 22.
9 This king was the brother-in-law of King João II and, like him, great-grandson of King João I.
10 He married Isabel of Castile, then Maria of Castile (both daughters of the Catholic kings) and
then Leonor of Austria (granddaughter of the same monarchs).
11 “Decid, Padre, lá em Castela celebram así� algunas vitorias que han alcanzado? Respondió el
fraile: Señor, no acostumbran castellanos celebrar las victorias que han alcanzado en el mundo,
porque no habrí�a en el año hartos dí�as para festejarlas […].” “Sermón de Aljubarrota con las glosas de
D. Diego Hurtado de Mendoza,” in Sales españoles, o Agudezas del ingenio nacional, ed. António Paz y

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The Legacy for Later Memories 93
Later, during the reign of King João III (1521–1557), a reference is made to a speech
given in Lisbon on August 14, 1545, “on the vigil of the Assumption, celebrating a victory
that the Portuguese had over the Spanish on such day as this in Aljubarrota, a place of
the King of Portugal.”12 A reference to Aljubarrota so much later indicates the continuity
of such events and the tradition of celebrating the battle with processions. This never
disappeared from Portuguese memory.
Thus, it is interesting to see that the “Royal Battle” continued to be celebrated by the
Portuguese monarchs. It acquired greater prominence through the genius of the Portu
guese poet Luí�s de Camões. As happened with so many other episodes narrated by the
poet, the Battle of Aljubarrota was passed on to future generations as a memory which,
above all, embodies Portuguese pride. The Lusíadas13 provided the public with a long
testimony on this Battle, in the verses addressed to King João I:
Victorious Joane upon the place stays out
In martial glory the accustom’d days:
With offerings then, and Pilgrimage devout,
To Him, that gave the Conquest, gives the Praise.
But Nuno (minding what he was about,
As he that knows, a lasting fame to raise,
No way like arms, which all the world command)
Passes his troops to the Trans-Tagan Land.
To him his stars so favourable were,
That the success applauded the designe:
For he both conquers, and the spoyls doth weare
Of Andalusian countreys that confine.
The Betick Standard of Sevilia there,
Under which divers neighb’ring great ones joyn,
With small resistance at his feet soon falls,
Quell’d by the force, and name, of PORTINGALS.”
Or through the void of Nuno Á� lvares Pereira:
I onely, with my tenants, and with this
(And at that word he pull’d out half his Blade)
Will save from force, and all that shameful is,
This Land, which hitherto hath liv’d a Maid.
By the King’s fire, and mine (lighted at his):
Our Countrey’s Tears: By Faith (by you not vvaigh’d):
Not onely these upon their knees I’l bring,
But All that ever shall oppose my King.
Camões died in 1580, a key year for the history of the two Iberian monarchies.
Melia, Biblioteca de autores espanoles 176, 2nd ed. rev. by Rámon Paz (Madrid: Atlas, 1964), 43–81
at 48 (1890 ed. online at pp. 101–225, https://archive.org/details/salesespaolas01pazyuoft/
page/113).
12 “En la vigilia de la Asunción, celebrando una victoria que los portugueses hubieron de los
españoles tal dia como este em Aljubarrota, lugar del Rey de Portugal.” See “Sermón de Aljubarrota,
con las glosas de D. Diego Hurtado de Mendoza,” 43 (1890 ed. at 103).
13 (Translator’s Note: English translation of the Lusíadas taken from the Fanshawe translation
available at https://quod.lib.umich.edu/e/eebo/A32903.0001.001/1:12?rgn=div1;view=fulltext
[Canto IV, 45–46 and Canto IV, 19]).

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The Period of the Dual Monarchy, 1581 to 1640

From 1581, due to a succession crisis after both King Sebastião (1557–1578) and
King Henrique of Portugal (1578–1580) died without heirs, Portugal became part
of the Hispanic monarchy, after a meeting of the Cortes in Tomar.14 At the time, many
Portuguese saw this as a peaceful solution. After all, this was the same family, and Filipe
I, the new king of Portugal, was the grandson of King Manuel. However, with the passing
of years and faced with the choice of this king and that of his successors (Filipe II and
Filipe III) governing far from Lisbon (among other decisions, particularly those under
taken by Filipe III as the last of the Habsburg rulers in Portugal), it did not take long for a
feeling of nostalgia (perhaps abandonment) to take hold, perhaps because of its second
ary position, with Portugal necessarily playing a role in the background. Indeed, Filipe
I, who stayed three years in Portugal (from the end of 1580 until February 1583), left
Lisbon in that year, a city to which he would never return.15 In a later text—the Chronica
dos Eremitas de S. Agostinho—it was recorded, without surprise, that the new monarch,
in 1581, had banned the procession organized in Lisbon for August 14 to remember
João I’s victory at Aljubarrota.16
Jean-Frédéric Schaub summarized in illuminating words this special period of Ibe
rian history: “In fact, there were manifestations of hostility against the new Habsburg
dynasty since the first years of Filipe II’s reign and, a contrario, it was possible to dem
onstrate the consolidation of the ties between the kingdom and the Madrid court until
the time of Olivares.”17 So we should not fall into the mistake of considering that the
problems in Portugal between 1580 and 1640 can only be explained by the fact that
Portugal formed part of a dual monarchy. A lot had changed in these years. By the end of
the sixteenth century, and the following decades, both crowns had made great strides in
the conquest of new worlds and in the consolidation of royal power and people referred
to the union with the other as something that “Could have happened decades before.”18
14 See Fernando Bouza, Filipe I (Lisbon: Cí�rculo de Leitores, 2006).

15 This distancing from the Court of the Austrias or Habsburgs in relation to Portugal has been
extensively studied by Fernando Bouza Á� lvares, “Lisboa sozinha, quase viúva. A cidade e a mudança
da Corte no Portugal dos Filipes,” Penélope 13 (1994): 71–93. In this text, the author presents
the reasons invoked by the authors of the period to justify the choice of Lisbon to host the court.
The arguments invoked included the climate, the geographical location of Lisbon (at the centre
of the world; the argument which also divided opinions between Rome and Avignon during the
Great Church Schism between 1378 and 1417), its economic superiority enabled by its access to
maritime routes, the splendour of the Lisbon docks, etc. It is notable that the author, since Lisbon
was never the city of the court of the Filipes, remembers that it was synonymous with the sea and
that characteristic presupposed a deviation in the conception of frontier (towards the Atlantic) that
these monarchs did not wish to assume (87).
16 António da Purificação, Chronica da Antiquissima Província de Portugal da Ordem dos Eremitas
de Santo Agostinho, pt. 2, bk. 7, title 4 (Lisbon: Rosa, 1656), fol. 244v.
17 That is, roughly from the 1620s. Portugal na Monarquia Hispânica (1580–1640) (Lisbon:
Horizonte, 2001), 10.
18 Joaquim Romero de Magalhães, “Filipe II (I de Portugal),” in História de Portugal, ed. Mattoso,
3:563, recalls the end of the fifteenth century, when the death of Prince Afonso, heir to João II and

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Certainly, in this period, the publication of texts which appealed to the glory and
achievements of the Portuguese recurred regularly, as the case of a text entitled Con-
cerning the Battle of Aljubarrota and the Monastery of Batalha, critically dated to 1600.19
This is an extensive excerpt from an anonymous chronicle which recounts deeds from
the life of King João I. The reference, both to the battle, as well as its most emblematic
monument, during a period in which Portugal was politically joined to its neighbouring
kingdom, is clearly a laden one.20
During the Philippine Dynasty (under three Habsburg monarchs), references to
Ajubarrota can also be found in a poem in praise of the Constable Nuno Á� lvares Pereira,
dated 1610 by Francisco Rodrigues Lobo.21 Besides the central character being the great
hero of Aljubarrota, the author also celebrates the House of Bragança, whose roots go
back to King João I when, in 1401, his illegitimate son Afonso married Beatriz, daughter
of the Constable. Later, in 1442, his half-brother, King Duarte, would made him Duke of
Bragança, allowing the foundation of the most powerful ducal house that existed in Por
tugal and, more particularly, the only one which could offer an alternative for the dynas
tic succession.22 The fact that the poem dated from 1610, the very year in which Filipe II’s
visit to Portugal had been announced (although, in reality, it did not take place), may be
a simple indicator of the purpose surrounding its writing. The aim of this poem is clearer
still if we add that Lobo, in dedicating the work to the “Duke [of Bragança] Dom Theo
dosio,” father of the future king of Portugal João IV, indicates the political intentionality.
And the famous Spanish King shall not be helped
By unequal weapons or people & ships
Against the value of the mighty Lusitanian.23
married to the Infanta Isabel, daughter of the Catholic kings, had a son, Miguel da Paz in 1498,
a child that would have inherited both crowns, had it not been for his premature death in 1500.
In this period, there were echoes of certain reticences placed before the “entry of the Lusitanian
kingdom into such a vast political unit” as Pedro Cardim wrote in “Entre o Centro e as Periferias. A
assembleia de Cortes e a dinâmica polí�tica da É� poca Moderna,” Os Municípios no Portugal Moderno.
Dos forais manuelinos às reformas liberais, ed. Mafalda Soares da Cunha and Teresa Fonseca
(Lisbon: Colibri/CIDEHUS-UE, 2005), 172. See also Fernando Bouza Alvarez, “De un fin de siglo a
outro. Unión de Coronas Ibéricas entre don Manuel y Filipe II,” Congresso Internacional de História:
El Tratado de Tordesillas y su Época, 3 vols. (Valladolid: Junta Castilla-Leon/Quinto Centenário del
Tratado de Tordesillas/CNCDP, 1995), 3:1453–64 (in vol. 3; pagination being consecutive).
19 Augusto Ferreira do Amaral, “A Padeira de Aljubarrota e uma Crónica tardia da Batalha,” Armas
e Troféus: Revista de História, Heráldica, Genealogia e Arte 9 (2005): 68–94.
20 Amaral, “A Padeira de Aljubarrota e uma Crónica tardia da Batalha,” 66, critically dates this
text to ca. 1600. See Bernardo Vasconcelos e Sousa; Nuno Monteiro, “Aljubarrota—memória local
e memória nacional,” in Actas do Encontro ‘A Construção Social do Passado’ (Lisbon: Associação de
Professores de História, 1992), 289–96.
21 O Condestabre de Portugal D. Nun’ Alvres Pereira (Lisbon: Nazareth, 1785). See also O
Condestable de Portugal Dom Nunalvres Pereira, ed. Carlos Alberto Ferreira (Lisbon: Inspeção
Superior das Bibliotecas e Arquivos, 1958). We use the 1785 version here.
22 On the constitution of the house of Bragança, see Cunha, Linhagem, parentesco e poder and A
Casa de Bragança (1560–1640).
23 O Condestabre de Portugal D. Nuno Alvres, Pereira de Francisco Rodrigues Lobo […] oferecido

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Figure 3: O Condestabre de Portugal D. Nuno Alvres, Pereira,

by Francisco Rodrigues Lobo. Lisbon, 1610.

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Another example of the memoralization of the “Royal Battle” appeared in Madrid in

1628, on the other side of the same frontier, written by the Portuguese Manuel de Faria
e Sousa in his work Epitome de las historias portuguesas. Here one can read: “And it so
happened that the ever named Aljubarrota, where the flower of Spain was briefly bathed
in blood, […] the field where the Castilian people were buried.” These words, despite the
brutality of the defeat, form part of a more balanced discourse if we consider the more
nuanced comments on Juan I of Castile and the other on João I of Portugal:
The King did not often find consolation to match his sadness; finding his heart on the
outside a period of mourning that lasted seven years: not because he had been beaten (he
said) but rather because he was beaten by whom he had not expected.
And Faria e Sousa continued:

It happened that whilst serving a few Portuguese in the Palace, a Castilian servant came
and treated them badly, believing that it pleased the King who was watching him: and he
seemed poor in spirit, seeking malicious revenge, and gave them freedom, and said : this
was not the reason for him to treat them so, for those who followed him had lost their
lives in their eyes by performing marvellous deeds, and those who were against him had
beaten him. […] [T]he victorious Lusitanian was equal to him: for in Santarem he had
given freedom to the Castilians, who were there, more fearful of their rigour than of their
clemency.24
More assertive, although without any explicit mention of Aljubarrota, was António de
Sousa de Macedo’s book Flores de España excelencias de Portugal (published in 1631)
in which he wrote in the Excelência VI: “Portugal is an independent sovereign monar
chy, without recognizing anything superior.”25 It is symptomatic that, in different types
of discourse from the end of the 1630s, we hear a sermon by Luí�s da Natividade “on
the occasion of the traditional feast of the Pelisse” in Guimarães,26 through which this
Franciscan, having organized his text around a eulogy to Our Lady, reminded us of the
papal schism when, at the time of the political crisis of 1383–1385, the King of Castile,
Juan I, supported the Curia of Avignon. The preacher does not hide his feelings with
regard to the daily reality of his time when stating that it was “more appropriate to weep
for present sorrows than to celebrate past glories.”27
ao Duque dom Theodosio segundo deste nome (Lisbon: Crasbeeck, 1610), Canto XIII, fol. 215v.
See also allusions to this poem in Bernardo Vasconcelos e Sousa; Nuno Monteiro, “Aljubarrota—
memória local e memória nacional,” 291; Marinho, O Sonho de Aljubarrota, 20–22 and Casimiro, A
apropriação ideológica da figura de Nuno Álvares, 47–71.
24 Epitome de las historias portuguesas dividido em quatro partes (Brussels: Foppens, 1677), pt. 3,
chap. 11, 242. Note also the influence of Fernão Lopes in this text (Lopes, Crónica del Rei Dom João
I, Parte Segunda, chap. 42, 108–10).
25 Macedo, Flores de España excelencias de Portugal (Lisbon: Rodriguez, 1631), fol. 35.
26 João Francisco Marques, “O ‘Retrato de Portugal Castelhano’ de Fr. Luí�s da Natividade,” 199.
This sermon would be published in the reign of King João IV. On the parallel between the theme of
the sermon and the Schism of the Church in the fourteenth century, see 210n46.
27 João Francisco Marques, “O ‘Retrato de Portugal Castelhano’ de Fr. Luí�s da Natividade,” 211. For
these lines, use is made of the text written in Pimenta, A Padeira de Aljubarrota, 35.

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Between 1580 and 1640, in the face of measures that had greater or lesser impact in
Portuguese society (especially among the elites), the Portuguese witnessed a change in
governing frameworks that necessarily led to a “lower political-constitutional autonomy
[…] especially from 1620.”28 The same authors noted that “together with the growing fis
cal pressure and the high cost of living that was felt, especially in the 1630s, an environ
ment which led to the occurrence of a series of riots was created,” all of which presaged
1640 and many similar movements across Europe at that time.
That year, the revolt of December 1 seems to have been a “relatively unexpected out
come of the struggle between the antagonistic factions which were fighting in Lisbon.”29
It would provide the response to protests and complaints from many of those living in
Portugal, putting an end to a time during which “the Portuguese lived side-by-side with
Castilians, Aragonese, Catalans, Valencians, Granadians, Navarrese, Neapolitans, Sicil
ians, Milanese, Flemish individuals, and ‘Creoles’ from the ‘Castilian Indies,’ very diverse
peoples who had in common the fact that all of them had the same Master.”30
However, 1640 and the whole process that brought João, the Duke of Braganza, to
the Portuguese throne31 was a complex year. It involved unpopular measures by Fil
ipe III of Portugal followed by the attachment of noble elites to the side of the duke of
Braganza during his trip to Almada to preside over the War Council. By December, the
House of Braganza would provide a new monarch to Portugal.
In the Cortes gathered in 1641, João, Duke of Braganza, appeared as the legitimate
face of the opposition to the Habsburgs. Reasons justifying the king’s acclamation
filled pages and pages of speeches, involving narratives devoted to the situation of the
moment. In general, from 1640, celebrating the dynasty of Braganza became the order
of the day, a task which, shared between “the pulpit and lawyers’ offices, or other literate
people,”32 eventually bore fruit.33
Men such as João Pinto Ribeiro (a canon lawyer, responsible for the administration
of the House of Braganza in Lisbon and one of the most committed jurists to the cause
of the Restoration), would appeal in his work to the immemorial, irreproachable, and
sound relationship between the Portuguese crown and the papacy, contrasting it with
what had happened under the Habsburgs.34 It was an argument easily accepted by many
who favoured the Braganzas.
28 Pedro Cardim and Mafalda Soares da Cunha, “O terceiro ciclo (1495–1668) e os seus
momentos-chave [1498; 1504; 1521–29; 1578–80; 1640–68],” in Fonseca, Entre Portugal e a
Galiza, 43–51 at 48–49.
29 Cardim and Soares da Cunha, “O terceiro ciclo (1495–1668),” 49.
30 Pedro Cardim, Leonor Freire Costa, and Mafalda Soares da Cunha, “Introdução,” in Portugal na
Monarquia Hispânica. Dinâmicas de Integração e de Conflito (Braga: Publito, 2013), 9.
31 Costa and Cunha, D. João IV, 7–32.
32 Costa and Cunha, D. João IV, 155.
33 Pimenta, A Padeira de Aljubarrota, 37.
34 Ana Isabel Buescu, “‘Sentimento’ e ‘Esperanças’ de Portugal da legitimidade de D. João IV,”
Memória e poder: ensaios de história cultural (séculos XV–XVIII), Penélope. Fazer e Desfazer a
História 9/10, (Lisbon: Cosmos, 2000), chap. 6, esp. 174.

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But other arguments brought up, in 1640, the memories of a famous battle fought at
the end of the fourteenth century and a young king who had the merit of winning it. A
few years before the “Restoration” in 1632, António Brandão, an Alcobaça monk, in the
work Monarquia Lusitana,35 revealed a document, known as “the minutes of the Cortes
of Lamego” (supposedly from 1139), stating that “non-Portuguese are excluded from
the succession to the crown of the kingdom of Portugal.”36 This diploma which, since
the nineteenth century, is known to have been apocryphal was, however, essential to
sustaining the palace coup of 1640 and supporting the birth of a new dynasty, the fourth
of the kings of Portugal.
In addition to this document, people recalled the Battle of Ourique (1140), a victory
which consecrated Afonso Henriques as the first king of Portugal, and which served the
purposes of the supporters of the House of Braganza.37 The reason is simple to under
stand: this distant but symbolic battle had at its heart the “Miracle of Ourique,” accord
ing to which Christ appeared to the king of Portugal, with the kingdom receiving divine
protection for ever. The divine right of the Portuguese monarchy was not a new theme.38
The chronicler Duarte Galvão39 wrote about the reign of King Manuel I (1495–1521),
taking support from Ourique, in the providentialist aspect of D. Afonso Henriques, to
gratify the figure of a king whose rise to the throne was very divisive.40 In 1600, Duarte
Nunes de Leão, in the Crónicas dos Reis de Portugal41 inserted the Crónica de D. João I,
faithful to the legacy of the former tradition, but also added the Crónica de D. Afonso Hen-
riques, with an explicit mention of the Miracle of Ourique. He was even “astonished that
King Afonso Henriques has not yet been canonized.”42
Based on these narratives (the “nativeness” of the king based on the Cortes of Lamego
and the “expression of divine will”43 enshrined in the Miracle of Ourique), it became easy
to trace a parallel between the first king of Portugal, King Afonso Henriques, and King
João IV who, under this logic, was a re-founder of that same monarchy.
35 Published Lisbon: Imprensa Nacional / Casa da Moeda, 2000.

36 Nuno Gonçalo Monteiro, “A Restauração (1640–1668),” in História de Portugal, ed. Rui Ramos,
Bernardo Vasconcelos e Sousa, and Nuno Gonçalo Monteiro (Lisbon: A Esfera dos Livros, 2010), 294.
37 Costa and Cunha, D. João IV, 152ff.
38 Other previous examples of the revival of this Ourique episode are provided in Ana Isabel
Buescu, “Um mito das origens da nacionalidade: o milagre de Ourique,” in A Memória da Nação, ed.
Bethencourt and Curto, 52–53.
39 Galvão, Crónica de El-Rei D. Afonso Henriques, 57–59.
40 Fonseca, D. João II, 164–78.
41 Duarte Nunes de Leão, Crónica de D. João I, 305–27. His chronicle has mainly been chosen
here, but he also wrote Genealogia verdadera de los reyes de Portugal: con sus elogios y summario de
sus vidas (Lisbon: Antonio Alvares, 1590), which contains additional interesting details.
42 Luí�s Carmelo, “O milagre de Ourique ou um mito nacional de sobrevivência,” https://www.
scribd.com/document/96722257/O-milagre-de-Ourique-ou-um-mito-nacional-de-sobrevivencia.
43 Monteiro, “A Restauração (1640–1668),” 298.

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Memories of Aljubarrota after 1640

But what about the memory of Aljubarrota around 1640 and later? Did it resonate less
then? Certainly not. The battle remained in its exalted position, so much so that it fos
tered an idealized construction of a heroine who had managed to kill seven Castilians in
the aftermath. This “baker woman of Aljubarrota,”44 to whom I dedicated a book a few
years ago, provided a different way of remembering events that were intended to be
exalted, if mythologized.
Proof of this continuity in memory is seen through Friar António das Chagas, who
evoked Nuno Á� lvares Pereira in a sermon preached at the beginning of 1641, a sermon
that is far from alone.45 Years later, an extensive mention of the battle was provided in
the Sermam em acçam de graças, pela Vittoria de Aljubarrota, delivered by Friar Cris
tovão de Almeida, possibly in 1654.46 In this text, preached in the Nossa Senhora da
Graça Convent on August 14, the day of the procession for the Portuguese victory, he
recalled that it enshrined “the present solemn occasion, in memory of that day, in the
fields of Aljubarrota, which was for Castile the greatest disaster and for Portugal the
most significant triumph. […] In the space of half an hour, Castile was destroyed and
Portugal was victorious.”47
During the Habsburg dual-monarchy the celebration of Aljubarrota had been pro
hibited, so Cristovão Almeida did not forget to mention that “one can see how Portugal
wanted, with its freedom, to resurrect this procession, which Castilian fears had buried
in oblivion.”48
Another category of writing offers no shortage of references to the military feat nor
to its main protagonists. António de Sousa de Macedo in 1645 published an illustrated
volume known by the title Lusitania liberata. Written in Latin, it was accompanied by a
series of engravings, including, among others “João I, the first king of Avis, winner of the
Battle of Aljubarrota against the Spanish.”49
The familial and matrimonial connection of Nuno Á� lvares Pereira to the duchy of
Braganza would also generate new discursive nuances, as can be seen in the famous
work História do Portugal Restaurado, by Luí�s de Meneses, Count of Ericeira, published
in 1679. There, concerning King João I, we read that “He fought, won, and triumphed
over the King of Castile Juan I at Aljubarrota, and often his armies, assisted by the
44 Pimenta, A Padeira de Aljubarrota.

45 Marques, “A tutela do sagrado: a proteção sobrenatural dos santos padroeiros no perí�odo da
Restauração,” in A Memória da Nação, ed. Bethencourt and Curto, 288–89. In fact, the new king
of Portugal, João IV, early in 1641, adopted a wish stemming from the time of King Duarte, which
expected the Holy See to beatify Nuno Á� lvares Pereira. See also Monteiro, Nuno Álvares Pereira,
guerreiro, senhor feudal e santo, 326.
46 Marques, “A tutela do sagrado,” 274.
47 Cristovão de Almeida, “Sermam em acçam de graças,” 4: fols. 93–94.
48 Cristovão de Almeida, “Sermam em acçam de graças,” 4: fol. 97.
49 Lilian Pestre de Almeida, “A “Lusitania liberata” ou a Restauração portuguesa em imagens:
Análise iconológica do conjunto das gravuras da obra de António de Sousa de Macedo,” Talia Dixit:
revista interdisciplinar de retórica e historiografía 6 (2011), 88 and 99–100.

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Plate 5: História do Portugal Restaurado, by Luiz de Menezes. Lisbon, 1679.

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invincible value of Count Nuno Alvares Pereira […] first progenitor of the Most Serene
House of Braganza; helping the king to overcome the Castilians through the hands of the
Portuguese.”50
Perhaps the best image that can be cited because of its certainly conscious choice is
the one that brings back the memory of João IV on the day he took his oath as king of
Portugal: “In his hand he bore the golden sceptre that had been plundered by his sev
enth grandfather, King João I, at the Battle of Aljubarrota; on his leg lay a golden sword.”51
Aljubarrota from the Eighteenth Century Onwards

So far, this chapter has tried to present a wide range of interpretations of Aljubarrota,
beginning with the famous chronicles and ending with the works written to enhance
and support the new Braganza dynasty. We can see the evolution of a theme (under
stood in the broad sense that encompasses both the battle and its heroes) from the
fifteenth century to the end of the seventeenth century. But, even in later centuries, and
regardless of the way it was envisaged and the reasons that sustain it, many illustrative
examples portray the importance of the founder of the dynasty of Avis, the Battle of
Aljubarrota, and all those who were most closely involved in it.52
Our aim has been to offer the reader not a complete survey of Portuguese histori
ography on Aljubarrota but expressive moments in the evolution of this theme. In this
spirit, let us acknowledge that at the beginning of the eighteenth century Manuel dos
Santos wrote the Eighth Part of the Monarquia Lusitana,53 a work still committed to the
exaltation of divine providence as a determining element in the image of the Portuguese
monarchs. Precisely for this reason, the words that the author recorded at the beginning
of the chapter dedicated to King João I are clear:
God in the beginning of the World created for the adornment and beauty of the Heavens
[…] the two Planets Sun and Moon, both great and both Princes […]. To this likeness God
also placed in the World for the adornment and glory of Portugal two luminous planets
[…] both heroes, King D. João “of good memory” and the valiant, Saint and companion, his
most faithful in all military enterprises, the invincible Constable D. Nuno Alvares Pereira.54
Today’s scholars remain indebted to the decision that in 1720 led João V to estab
lish the Royal Academy of History, an institution entrusted with ensuring continuity
with the past in terms of the “importance of history for the preservation of the mem
ory of Portugal and the prestige of its kings and lords.”55 The best-known work that
50 Pt. 1, bk. 1, fol. 9.

51 Costa and Cunha, D. João IV, 7.
52 See Pimenta, A Padeira de Aljubarrota, in which we can see a similar evolution of literary and
historical discourse. This book has been crucial in framing this chapter.
53 This work was written between the final years of the sixteenth century and the eighteenth
century by four authors: Bernardo de Brito, António Brandão, Francisco Brandão, and Rafael de
Jesus, all members of the Benedictine order.
54 Monarquia Lusitana, vol. 8, bk. 23, chap. 1, 413.
55 Torgal, “Antes de Herculano,” 20.

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sought to respond to this challenge is the História Genealógica da Casa Real Portuguesa
(1735–1748), by the ecclesiastic António Caetano de Sousa. His interpretation of history
is based on the conviction that rather than the “defence of the political personality of the
Nation”56 it was more important to present “a monarchy, increasingly divinized, in which
the king occupied the first place of the historical and cultural space.”57
No wonder, then, that the words written about King João I and the “Royal Battle”
tend towards eulogy: “In this glorious year to Portugal from August 1385 to August 14
was followed by the memorable Battle of Aljubarrota, in which he not only triumphed
against his enemies, but held the crown, sustained by valour, against the formidable
power of the King of Castile, who in person sent his army. This was one of the most
complete victories, remembered in the histories, by the circumstances in which it was
obtained, by the spoils that will be taken.”58
The publication of this História Genealógica was accompanied by the edition of six
volumes of Provas da História Genealógica, containing documents of diverse origin with
which the author wanted to corroborate his historical interpretations. This approach
conferred to the author and to the time when the work was inscribed an objective of
accuracy. Ironically, this methodological decision would eventually surpass the Baroque
characteristics of De Sousa’s work and open up fresh historiographical interpretations.59
The turn of the nineteenth century would bring with it great political innovations
and cultural expressions, allowing the historical novel and drama to offer new perspec
tives on the Battle of Aljubarrota, as Maria de Fátima Marinho has emphasized.60
Portugal incurred three French invasions at this period (1807–1808, 1809, and
1810–1811), deeply significant to the country both because of the damages caused as
well as the Portuguese court being forced into exile in Brazil. The Braganza dynasty,
trapped between this Napoleonic threat and the possibility of their British allies offer
ing a solution to this problem, ended up by compromising Enlightenment ideals. The
reflection of this in literature shows itself in nationalist approaches in which Roman
56 Maria Emí�lia Cordeiro Ferreira, “Monarquia Lusitana,” in Dicionário de História de Portugal,

ed. Joel Serrão, 4 vols. (Porto: Iniciativas, 1975), 3:329.
57 Torgal, “Antes de Herculano,” 21–22.
58 António Caetano de Sousa, História genealógica da Casa Real Portuguesa, 12 vols. in 26
(Coimbra: Atlântida, 1946), 2:6.
59 However, works such as the Vida de D. Nuno Alvares Pereira, segundo Condestável de Portugal,
written in 1749 by Domingos Teixeira, an Augustinian friar, continue to contribute to the veneration
of the image of the Constable as well as of the Battle of Aljubarrota and the founder of the dynasty
(Lisbon: Ameno, 1749), bk. 3, fol. 376ff). In poetry, at the end of the eighteenth century, Jose Correia
de Melo and Brito de Alvim Pinto wrote Joanneida ou a liberdade de Portugal defendida pelo senhor
rey D. João I, an epic poem that the author explains necessary to minimize “the discredit to which
[…] Poetry in the eighteenth century was devoted.” In its 1199 strophes, this epic reveals a “unique
personality: heroic, rational, conscious, who as an epic hero affirms himself by his actions and his
words gradually in the narrative, both in concrete historical episodes and in others created by the
poet, until reaching, through the victory in the Battle of Aljubarrota, the status of a mythical hero,”
Ventura, D. João I: um retrato épico, 179.
60 Marinho, O Sonho de Aljubarrota, 28ff.

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ticism features. The historical epoch of the Middle Ages came to the fore as “one
of the most invoked periods to legitimize the regeneration targets of the new liberal
generations.”61 Some have argued that “In fact, Portugal became the great object of
romantic historicism.”62 Even the commemorative procession of the Battle of Aljubar
rota, which had taken place annually throughout the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries,
restored by King Joao IV in 1641, was still respected by the liberal movement in 1820.63
Focusing on the intellectual debate of nineteenth-century Portugal, I have previously
written that “we encounter the adoption of a well-marked tendency for the exaltation
of values that identified the Portuguese people with its kingdom, an objective that, for
many, was achieved by the recovery of themes and characters from the past.”64 Actually,
since the first attempts to express liberal ideas in Portugal after 1820, embodied in a
constitutional monarchy, did not bring about the desired stability, the need to “regener
ate” or “recast” the nation was quickly recognized, a claim that became a nationalizing
movement and an appeal to origins, right across cultural forms.65
Various newspapers, magazines, and plays, among others, performed an important
role in spreading these views and, of course, the historical novel would become one of
the most appealing vehicles for the propagation of such ideas.66 Although not specifi
cally on the Battle of Aljubarrota, the works of Alexandre Herculano (O Monge de Cister)
and Almeida Garrett (Alfageme de Santarém) remind the reader of the troubled times
of the crisis of 1383–1385, the action of João I and the Battle of Aljubarrota. Herculano,
in fact, began his writings about this in the magazine Panorama (1839) which he would
later collect in his book Lendas e Narrativas (publ. 1851), especially in the short story “A
Abóbada.” In this story, which takes place in the monastery of Batalha, one of the char
acters—Mestre Afonso Domingues, the arquitect of the monument—states that he had:
“placed in marble the hymn of the brave of Aljubarrota.”67
Herculano’s famous text also includes an emotive mention to the legendary “baker
lady of Aljubarrota.” Although a legend, the author did not fail to mention her feat,
61 Pedro Alexandre Guerreiro Martins, “Uma época de grandeza: Idade Média, Decadência e
Regeneração na Historiografia Portuguesa (1842–1942),” Revista de Teoria da História 17, no. 1
(July 2017): 36. See also Casimiro, A apropriação ideológica da figura de Nuno Álvares, 80.
62 Fernando Catroga, “Alexandre Herculano e o Historicismo Romântico,” História da História
em Portugal, sécs XIX–XX, ed. Luí�s Reis Torgal, José Maria Amado Mendes, and Fernando Catroga
(Lisbon: Cí�rculo de Leitores, 1996), 40.
63 See Francisco Bethencourt, “La sociogénesis del sentimiento nacional,” Manuscrits 8 (1990):
20.
64 Maria Cristina Pimenta, “Literatura, historiografia e discurso polí�tico,” in Fonseca, Entre
Portugal e a Galiza, 403.
65 Fernando Catroga, “Alexandre Herculano e o Historicismo Romântico,” 39.
66 See António Gomes Ferreira, “Uma compreensão sobre a afirmação da identidade nacional:
narrativa sobre Portugal entre a história e a educação,” Revista Portuguesa de História 39 (2007):
273–312.
67 Alexandre Herculano, “A Abóbada,” in Lendas e Narrativas (Lisbon: Cí�rculo de Leitores, 1986), 172.

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reminding people that she killed seven Castilians soldiers who were trying to return
home after the Battle of Aljubarrota.68
These literary trends stand out both as pedagogic, since the authors wanted to “teach
ancestral values to the emerging new bourgeoisie, creating links with tradition”69 and
as a political message to be understood by the liberal governments not always aligned
with the needs of the Portuguese population.
The second half of the nineteenth century was affected by the “fragmentation of the
liberal ‘family,’ driven by ideological differences dating back to the years of the exile of
the Portuguese Dynasty (1828–1832/34) contributing to the establishment of a regime
which, if militarily victorious, did not have sufficient authority to impose law and order.”70
Portugal evolved through increasingly complicated scenarios caused by great
instability in governments, a situation that favoured feelings of “national decadence”
and thoughts of integrating Portugal into Spain. This led to the well-known “Questão
Ibérica,” a movement which stressed the need to clarify the real possibilities of Portugal
as a nation-state within a Europe where much more powerful countries ruled. This situ
ation gave rise to important debates within the Portuguese cultural elite.71
This debate came to the attention of the populace who, without taking part in the
ideological discourse, gave a definitive opinion by peremptorily rejecting it. In such an
environment, we need to recognize key topics of Portuguese nationality; namely, those
that, in the ultimate analysis, would overthrow any attempt to restore an Iberian union.
Theatres were sold out to watch the play Pajem de Aljubarrota, based on the work of José
da Silva Mendes Leal Júnior (1846),72 and Matilde Vasconcelos wrote a historical novel
titled O Soldado de Aljubarrota, a work that starts from the “more brilliant and poetic
phase of our political existence, when the Master of Aviz, this generous and kind mon
arch, showed in Aljubarrota what a people are worthy of.”73
Some years later, this same need to praise the battle is evident in the work of Manuel
Pinheiro Chagas (1842–1895), when in the Diccionario Popular Historico, Geographico,
Mythologico, Biographico, Artistico, Bibliographico e Litterario he wrote about Aljubar
rota:
68 Pimenta, A Padeira de Aljubarrota.

69 Maria de Fátima Marinho, “As Máscaras do Passado,” Limite 2 (2008): 120. The pedagogical
dimension of these authors is recognized in other works, like O Soldado de Aljubarrota, written
in 1857 by Matilde de Santa Anna e Vasconcelos (Lisbon: Imprensa Nacional, 1857) (See also
Marinho, O Sonho de Aljubarrota, 36).
70 Fernandes, Meneses, and Baiôa, “The Political History of Nineteenth Century Portugal,” 6.
71 See Sérgio Campos de Matos, Historiografia e memória nacional (1846–1898) (Lisbon: Colibri,
1998), 278ff. Very recently, the same historian wrote a remarkable book (Iberismos: nação e
transnação, Portugal e Espanha (c. 1807–c. 1931)) in which, especially in pages 31–109, he presents
new elements on the theme. Another significant approach has been based in the Portuguese press
between 1850 and 1870, by Maria da Conceição Meireles Pereira, A questão ibérica: imprensa e
opinião 1850–1870, 2 vols. (Porto: [Authors Edition], 1995).
72 Other theatrical events with a focus on the legendary Padeira de Aljubarrota, can be read in
Pimenta, A Padeira de Aljubarrota, 44–45.
73 In the introduction to Vasconcelos, O Soldado de Aljubarrota.

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For us it is above all our greatest national glory. We have fallen down a lot, we have been
deceived in Europe, our decadence was miserable and demeaning; thus, one glorifies a
man for being Portuguese when, reading through our old chronicles, one comes across
[…] this name that in itself is worth a poem—Aljubarrota.74
During the last two decades of the nineteenth century, the political situation in Portugal
reached another complicated period intensified by the “English ultimatum.” Britain had
demanded to occupy the African territories bordered by the Portuguese colonies of
Angola, on the West Coast of Africa, and Mozambique, on the East Coast. Portugal ceded
and lost these territories because of the failture of the Portuguese government to deal
with this situation. At a national level, belief in the constitutional monarchy became
much weakened. So it is perhaps not strange that, in 1880, at the three hundredth anni
versary of the death of the poet Camões,75 an important “commemorative movement
was growing, transforming the great ‘civic’ parades, in which more than forty thousand
people participated, into protests against the liberal monarchy.”76 Some organizers of
such festivities were already loyal to the Republican Party77 and the success of such
events (involving consent from various sectors of the Portuguese society78) led to this
political party gaining in importance.
Choices were being made irrespective of the event being celebrated and show the
ideological divides of the period. If it is true that, “the Fifth Centennial of the Battle of
Aljubarrota in 1885 was practically ignored,”79 Oliveira Martins’ books on Portuguese
history, in 1879, still considers that “Nationality assumes fullness under the dynasty of
Avis,”80 an idea that, shortly afterwards, he will reinforce, in 1893, with a paean to the
Constable in A vida de Nun’ Alvares.81 Here, Martins features the Portuguese Constable as
a “Nun’Á�lvares–Messiah, the saviour of independence at a critical moment, the man who
[…] re-established order, decisively marked the fate of the Fatherland for his dedication
and strength of will.”82 This was the image that would prevail in the forthcoming years.
74 Ed. Manoel Pinheiro Chagas, 7 vols. (Lisbon: Lallemant, 1876), 1:95. By the same author, see
História alegre de Portugal. Leitura para o povo e para as escolas, ed. David Corazzi (Lisbon: Horas
Romanticas, 1880), 79 (Quinto Serão), https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/29394, where it is
written: “The Battle of Aljubarrota decided the fate of Portugal. Even if the war lasted longer, the
Constable once again defeated the Spanish in Valverde, but the truth is that it was all over.”
75 Matos, Historiografia e memória nacional (1846–1898), 434–62; Maria Isabel João, Memória e
Império. Comemorações em Portugal (1880–1960) (Lisbon: Fundação Calouste Gulbenkian / FCT /
MCES, 2003), 58ff.
76 Monteiro and Costa Pinto, “A Identidade Nacional Portuguesa,” 57.
77 For instance, Teófilo Braga, author of a work intitled Os Centenários: como synthese affectiva
nas sociedades modernas (Porto: Teixeira, 1884).
78 João, Memória e Império, 55.
79 Andrade and Torgal, Feriados em Portugal, 38.
80 António José Saraiva and Ó� scar Lopes, História da literatura portuguesa, 17th ed. (Porto:
Porto, 2008), 917.
81 J. P. Oliveira Martins, A vida de Nun’ Alvares. Historia do estabelecimento da dinastia de Avis
(Lisbon: Pereira, 1893), 280–81.
82 Matos, Historiografia e memória nacional (1846–1898), 466.

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As far as the preservation of the memory of Aljubarrota goes, Portugal, in the early
twentieth century, was undoubtedly the heir to a rich tradition.83 Faustino da Fonseca
despite focusing his work on the legendary Padeira de Aljubarrota (The Baker Lady of
Aljubarrota), wrote a novel in which the memory of the battle and its heroes was kept
alive.84 This discursive linearity was attacked by Júlio Dantas, a writer and physician,
when he published O Libelo do Cardeal Diabo.85 In this book “all imagery that was cre
ated in the Middle Ages and has been stressed through the ages [about Nuno Á� lvares
Pereira] transformed, through a process of deconstruction, all the qualities and virtues
into defects and vices.”86 Due to the fact that the canonization process of the Constable
had just been restarted in 1907, Dantas identified neurological disturbances, among
others, in Nuno Á� lvares Pereira, and tried to discredit the decision of the Holy See. Nev
ertheless, this provoked a prompt rejoinder by Rui Chianca, a Christian supporter.87
As for the wider country, new challenges arose from the Republican victory in 1910,
and “During the initial years of the First Portuguese Republic, […] both regal and author
itarian features of the State […] provoked a religious confrontation within Portuguese
society.” But neither the Battle of Aljubarrota nor Nuno Á� lvares Pereira were forgotten.
Again, Rui Chianca wrote “two plays, Aljubarrota and Nun’ Alvares”88 and rekindled the
remembrance of those victorious medieval times. Not all Portuguese were in favour of a
secularized society but, with the beginning of World War I in 1914, religion, especially in
traditionally Catholic countries (as Portugal), underwent changes.89
In truth, due to these “winds of change,” some of the most significant examples of
idolatry regarding Aljubarrota and especially its heroes were yet to come.
In June, 1918, after the beatification of Nuno Á� lvares Pereira,90 the movement known
as the Cruzada nacional D. Nuno Álvares Pereira promoted the ideal of the Constable,
a hero supposedly committed both to the “Catholic providentialist tradition” and the
“Republican lay tradition.”91 Chosen as patron of both the Cruzada nacional as well as
of a youth movement, Mocidade Portuguesa, Nuno Á� lvares Pereira, and all he stood for,
“blessed” the 1922 edition of a magazine called Cruzada nacional “Nun’Álvares”. Shortly
after, the President of the Portuguese Republic “insisted in the endorsement of the
importance of Catholicism in Portuguese society and in the definition of national iden
tity, emphasizing the symbolism of the Cross of Christ.”92
83 See Leal, “Nuno Á� lvares: sí�mbolo e mito nos séculos,” 157–59.

84 Faustino da Fonseca, Padeira de Aljubarrota (Lisbon: Lusitana, 1901–1902).
85 Júlio Dantas, Outros Tempos (Lisbon: Teixeira, 1909).
86 Casimiro, A apropriação ideológica da figura de Nuno Álvares, 149.
87 O Santo Condestabre. Resposta ao “Libelo do Cardeal Diabo” do Sr. Dr. Júlio Dantas (Lisbon:
Teixeira, 1914). See Leal, “Nuno Á� lvares: sí�mbolo e mito nos séculos,” 158–59.
88 Published between 1913 and 1918. Marinho, O Sonho de Aljubarrota, 50.
89 See Leal, “República portuguesa, secularização e novos sí�mbolos,” 123.
90 See Velozo, “O processo de Nun’Á�lvares.”
91 Leal, “A Cruzada Nacional,” 831.
92 Speech of January 3, 1923. Leal, “República portuguesa, secularização e novos sí�mbolos,” 124.

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The empathy the Constable had acquired across Portuguese society ensured the mes
sage was an effective one. And, in those days, the message was unity: a way for the coun
try to rediscover the core of its own essence.
This goal, grounded in the religious and devotional profile of the Constable, but
also in his military skills, was much enhanced when, in 1933, the Salazarist regime was
established. The political leaders of that time were also trying to spread these ideals
in order to shape new generations. That is why the topic of Aljubarrota, but more than
anything, Nuno Á� lvares Pereira,93 was so prominent in all school textbooks approved by
the Estado Novo regime.94
It is no surprise that Salazar’s government would consider that “Aljubarrota and
[the Monastery of] Batalha should be the places among all elected for the great patri
otic pilgrimages,” as the leader wrote in 1935 in a speech known as Aljubarrota—Festa
da Mocidade.95 The regime devoted an enormous interest in commemorating the Battle
of Aljubarrota, both in 1935 and 1936.96 Lisbon, Guimarães, and above all, the locality
of São Jorge (where the battle took place), as well as the nearby Monastery of Batalha,
hosted several events.97 To mark the occasion, Salazar’s message was to be read in all
Portuguese schools. In it, the head of the Portuguese government presents an obvious
parallel between Nuno Á� lvares Pereira and the young people (Mocidade) of that time,
and expressed the wish that, in the following year (1936), both Aljubarrota and Batalha
should be visited on August 14 by the Portuguese people to celebrate the battle.98 The
need for strong propaganda led to an official Salazarist culture (in which the National Sec
retariat of Propaganda, created in 1933, played an important role) and thus, within this
commemorative programme, the words pronounced had a powerful patriotic message:
On August 14, 1935—550 years ago—the Battle of Aljubarrota was fought between the
Portuguese and the Castilians, not far from the place where today the church and convent
of Batalha are admired […]. The disproportion of the forces in the field—seven thousand
Portuguese to more than thirty thousand enemies—the thundering victory, the heavy
losses inflicted on the Castilians, the escape of the king of Castile, the way the battle was
conducted in the purely military aspect by this […] astounding man of religious mysti
See Casimiro, A apropriação ideológica da figura de Nuno Álvares, 189.

93 Sérgio Alexandre Gomes, “A gestão dos vestí�gios arqueológicos da Batalha de Aljubarrota,”
Portvgalia n.s. 37 (2016): 76.
94 Sérgio Campos Matos, História, mitologia, imaginário nacional. A História no Curso dos Liceus
(1895–1939) (Lisbon: Horizonte, 1990), 139. See also Lurdes Rosa, “Hagiografia e Santidade,” in
Dicionário de história religiosa de Portugal, 4 vols. (Lisbon: Cí�rculo de Leitores, 2000), 2:326–61.
95 António Oliveira Salazar “Aljubarrota, Festa da Mocidade,” in Discursos e notas políticas, 2
(1935–1937) (Coimbra: Coimbra, 1937), 47–56.
96 By that time, as explained by Rosas, “O Estado Novo nos Anos 30,” 7:296, Portugal had, in
Spain, an example of dangerous times (with republican left-wing governments) and, as “what
happened in Spain was always used as a presage of what could happen in Portugal” it is no surprise
that Aljubarrota would not fade from memory.
97 Gomes, “A gestão dos vestí�gios arqueológicos da Batalha de Aljubarrota,” 84.
98 News on these events can be read in Diário de Lisboa, a well-known newspaper, today online,
http://casacomum.org/cc/visualizador?pasta=05762.026.06226#!3.

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Plate 6: Cruzada
nacional “Nun’ Alvares.”
Magazine cover, Lisbon,
1922.
cism and warlike genius, called D. Nuno Á� lvares Pereira, transformed Aljubarrota in the
central moment of the long war with Castile and the most representative victory of our
forrefathers’ efforts for the independence of Portugal.99
Just a few years later, in 1940, Portugal celebrated the double centenary of its Foundation
and Restoration.100 The commemoration gave rise to new celebrations organized by
the leaders of the Estado Novo: “This was a fundamental concern of Salazar since 1938
99 A Voz, August 15, 1935, 1/8.

100 Namely, Portugal’s foundation in 1140 (at the Battle of Ourique in which, according to the
prophetic tradition, D. Afonso Henriques defeated the Muslims by the will of God) and 1640 (when
the Braganza Dynasty deprived the Habsburgs of the Portuguese throne). See “Comemorações/
Festas Oficiais,” Dicionário de História do Estado Novo, ed. Fernando Rosas and J. M. Brandão de
Brito, 2 vols. (Lisbon: Bertrand, 1996), 1:162–65. See also João, Memória e Império, 541ff and Filipe
Ribeiro de Meneses, Salazar. Uma biografia política (Lisbon: Quixote, 2010), 211–14.

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Plate 7: O século. Número extraordinário comemorativo do duplo centenário

da Fundação e Restauração de Portugal. Magazine cover, Lisbon, 1940.

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[…], and these celebrations accentuate, primarily, the evocation of an exemplary past
that was to be recovered.”101 Besides this, on August 14, 1940, “the National Broadcaster
organized an ‘impressive play’ at Terreiro de Paço, much to the taste of the majestic aes
thetics of the Secretariat of National Propaganda, where the Auto de Aljubarrota is acted
under the Arch of Rua Augusta, under a huge flag with the cross of Avis.”102
This celebration included an ambitious programme, including an historical parade
called “Cortejo do Mundo Português” and, once again, Nuno Á� lvares Pereira and King
João I were, as expected, among the illustrious characters chosen to represent the key
moments of Portuguese history.103 Meanwhile, the exhibition “Exposição do Mundo Por
tuguês” showed the world a unified regime in which tradition and renewal were the
banner slogans. But, in those days, the rest of the world was more focused on the Sec
ond World War, and, in Portugal, the first serious political crises were beginning. As Fer
nando Rosas wrote, “Other times, other battles.”
The fifth centenary of the death of Prince Henrique (“Henry the Navigator”), cele
brated in 1960,104 brought to public attention an Infante of the Dynasty of Avis, the son
of King João I, considered the father of Portuguese “discoveries.” Nothing could be more
appropriate at a time when Portugal wished to exhibit to the world its colonial empire.
In these final years of the Estado Novo, continuing war in Africa was justified, among
other things, by the Portuguese presence there since the fifteenth century. Prince Hen
rique, now more than Aljubarrota or its heroes, acted as an essential flag to the regime.
Future Memories
In times to come, irrespective of the intensity of the celebration of Aljaburrota, its
memory among the Portuguese people is likely to remain powerful. For diverse reasons,
many of which have been mentioned throughout this chapter, a general consensus exists
today on this battle and its heroes, placing them close to the public heart.
After the huge political changes in Portugal in 1974, Aljubarrota has been revived
by new historiographical trends and studied by many contemporary historians, and it
maintains special support across Portuguese society. As we will see in the next chapter,
this whole inheritance focuses on a Centre for the Interpretation of the Battle of Aljubar-
rota (CIBA). It is a privileged space that portrays many collective emotions, a venue of
excellence for “disclosure history” in the way it provides background knowledge to an
event, and a reflexive experience of history. It is our conviction that societies ought to be
open to an expressive and coherent rhetoric in order to best preserve continuity with
their past. Foreseeing a growing interest in “roots,” commemorative events, and new
understandings of museum culture, the Battle of Aljubarrota is now beautifully pre
served both within and outside the walls of this centre.
101 Luí�s Cunha, A Nação nas malhas da sua identidade. O Estado Novo e a construção da identidade
nacional (Porto: Afrontamento, 2001), 77.
102 Fernando Rosas, “As Aljubarrotas do Estado Novo,” História, XX, 3 (1998), 53.
103 João, Memória e Império, 329–30.
104 Prince Henrique was born in 1394 and died in 1460.

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198.91.37.2 on Wed, 19 Aug 2020 05:07:58 UTC
Chapter 8
THE BATTLE OF ALJUBARROTA

INTERPRETATION CENTRES
FUNDAÇÃO BATALHA DE ALJUBARROTA*
As with most European countries, the creation of Portugal as an independent

nation only became possible through victories in several decisive battles that took place
mainly in the thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth centuries. This is the period in which
many European countries were formed.
Although in the course of eight hundred years of Portuguese history several military
confrontations took place within its territory, it is possible to identify several battles
that were decisive in its creation and consolidation as an independent country.
The battles held during the War of Independence (1383–1411) and the War of Res
toration (1640–1668) were particularly important to the political process that resulted
in Portugal’s independence. This is why over the years, particularly since the begin
ning of the twentieth century, initiatives have been taken to identify and protect these
battlefields. These battlefields had remained mostly abandoned and with no effective
administrative protection, which had allowed, over time, the landscape to be damaged.
These incursions included roads built over historical sites, inappropriate commercial
use of parts of the landscape, and the construction of various buildings and houses on
the battlefields.
This lack of recognition of the non-material value of key battlefields was common
until relatively recently. In fact, major battlefields in Europe and North America began
only to be visited by the public in the second half of the twentieth century, particularly
from the 1970s.
In Portugal, the first administrative measure to protect a battlefield was taken in
1977, when a small part of the battlefield of Aljubarrota began to be managed by the
Ministry of Culture. Then, in 1985, the Portuguese government built a small military
museum on the battlefield that began to receive approximately five thousand visitors
per year. All other battlefields remained without any cultural protection.
Creation of the Battle of Aljubarrota Foundation

Although public opinion generally considered that the battlefield of Aljubarrota should
be improved and developed, since this was the most important battle in the history of
Portugal, this historical site remained, until 2001, to a great extent without legal protec
tion and undervalued. Its potential value includes carrying out of archaeological excava
tions, to provide a better knowledge of the battle, in view of the known existence of a
network of holes dug before the battle. Potential value would also include studying the
* Further information on the site is available at www.fundacao-aljubarrota.pt/en.
114 Fundação Batalha de Aljubarrota
historiographical importance of the battlefield, as far back as 1385 and three medieval
chroniclers (Fernão Lopes, Ayala, and Froissart). The site also offers tourism possibili
ties since, if properly developed, it could welcome thousands of visitors, from Portugal
and abroad.
At this time, the Ministry of Defence bore responsibility for managing a small part
of the battlefield of Aljubarrota and its military museum. This consticted the develop
ment of this important historical site, since this ministry was not particularly devoted
to the management of museums. On the other hand, the Portuguese government had
long encouraged private entities to participate and invest in the recovery of the cultural
heritage, since it was aware that this was a national objective. This policy was publicly
announced in September 2001, with the ratification of the National Heritage Law.
In light of this and the unrealized work done on the main Portuguese battlefields, the
Battle of Aljubarrota Foundation was created, in 2002, through the initiative of an indi
vidual Portuguese entrepreneur, António Sommer Champalimaud, who provided the
Foundation with the technical and financial resources. The objective of the Foundation
was defined as pursuing the valorization and dignification of key battlefields as part of
Portuguese cultural heritage. Specifically, the Foundation considered that the specified
battlefields should be protected, restored, studied, and opened to the general public.
The first initiative of the Foundation was to negotiate with the Ministry of Defence
the transfer of the management of the military museum of Aljubarrota to its own respon
sibility; this was achieved in 2004. Under this agreement, the Foundation undertook the
management of this museum and its surrounded lands for a period of ninety-nine years.
The Foundation committed to the task of restoring the battlefield of Aljubarrota, as well
as providing it with conditions adequate to receive a significant number of visitors.
In 2007, the Foundation transformed the previous museum into a modern Interpre
tation Centre for the Battle of Aljubarrota, inaugurated in October 2008. This Interpreta
tion Centre is equipped with modern technology, enabling its visitors to view an instruc
tive and inspiring multimedia description of the battle. It has so far received more than
four hundred thousand visitors.
Simultaneously, and in order to protect and develop the remaining battlefields, the
Foundation has worked with the Portuguese government to implement effective admin
istrative protection since, until recently, these places were basically abandoned from
the cultural point of view. This joint work has been ongoing since 2002, enabling the
the main battlefields to be classified as national monuments. That provided administra
tive protection for the battlefields of Atoleiros (in 2004), Aljubarrota (2010), Ameixial
(2011), Trancoso (2012), Linhas de Elvas (2013), and Montes Claros (2013), which are
associated either with the War of Independence or the War of Restoration. Through
these administrative measures, these historical sites fell under the management not
only of the local municipality, but also the Ministry of Culture. This was crucial because
previously these sites were mainly seen as potential construction areas, which often
resulted in the deterioration of the landscape. With their classification, these historical
sites can now be transformed and provide the respective regions with important touris
tic points of interest.
The Battle of Aljubarrota Interpretation Centres 115
Portugal has been innovative in this cultural aspect, since it was the first country
to implement an extensive protection network of battlefields, providing them with the
highest cultural category granted to property: a “national monument.” In this, the Battle
of Aljubarrota Foundation provided an important contribution in ensuring that these
places are treated in accordance with their importance in the history of Portugal, as well
as their European dimension.
Finally, in 2015, the Portuguese Minister of National Defence officially inaugurated
another building, the Interpretation Centre of the first position of the Portuguese Army
in the Battle of Aljubarrota. This new building is situated 1.5 kilometres north of the
previous Interpretation Centre, and is located where the Portuguese army stood at the
beginning of the battle. By visiting both interpretation centres, the visitor can obtain a
better and more complete description of how the Battle of Aljubarrota took place.
Strategic Objectives of the Foundation

The strategic objectives of the Battle of Aljubarrota Foundation can be summarized as
follows:
–– restore and valorize the main battlefields in Portugal;
–– provide these historical sites with adequate facilities to welcome the general public;
–– explain to both Portuguese and foreign visitors the importance of battles in the
creation of Portugal and on the national identity of its people;
–– establish a permanent link with schools and universities, in order to facilitate
regular visits of students to these historical sites;
–– describe the main figures that participated in these battles;
–– implement historical and archaeological research into these battlefields, in
partnership with universities, in order to improve knowledge;
–– restore the landscape of these historical sites, including the vegetation that
existed at the time of the battles;
–– organize historical re-enactments of these battles;
–– organize conferences concerning the history of Portugal in relation to the War
of Independence (1383 to 1411) and the War of Restoration (1640 to 1668);
–– cooperate with international institutions dedicated to the study and research
of battlefields.
The Foundation’s medium and long-term main mission is therefore the recovery of
the most important Portuguese battlefields, in cooperation with the Portuguese state,
with the scholarly community, and with civil society. In this respect it can be said that
although Portugal has achieved, since 2001, an innovative role in the policy of protect
ing battlefields, it has been acting within the trend seen in Europe and North America,
where the importance of immaterial values associated to property is being increasingly
recognized. The governance of the Foundation is assured by a Board of Directors, a
Board of Curators, a Scientific Council, and an Historical and Institutional Board.
The Centre of Interpretation of the Battle of Aljubarrota (CIBA)

The Centre of Interpretation of the Battle of Aljubarrota is an innovative project that
aims to employ new technologies, and to offer an instructive description of how the bat
tle took place. The Centre was inaugurated in 2008 and offers its visitors a stimulating
view of the events that took place on this historical site. The aim of this Interpretation
Centre is to provide its visitors a significant level of knowledge, through a pleasant and
suggestive experience. The Centre benefits from a new and modern functional space,
with pleasant conditions to receive visitors. Its total indoor area is 1,908 square metres.
The Contents of the Exhibition

The Centre has the advantage of providing its visitors a combination of education and
entertainment. Located in the middle of the battlefield, it offers a unique link between
the description of how the battle was fought and the place where the events took place.
The Interpretation Centre is composed of three main exhibition areas:
First Area: Description of the Existing Historical Environment Before the Battle
In this first area, the visitor is presented with a description of the social conditions that
prevailed in Europe in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, in the lead-up to the
Hundred Years’ War. Within the context of this war, Portugal was allied with England,
while Castile was allied with France. But this area also describes the social and political
conditions that existed in Portugal, together with the events that occurred before the
battle, namely the war with Castile that began in 1383. An important objective is there
fore to explain the causes of the battle.
In this area soldiers’ bones with signs of the injuries sustained in the combat are
presented. Diagrams and drawings shed light on how the injuries may have occurred
and how scientists glean information from bone fragments. Thus, through the analysis
of actual remains from the pitched battle, an attempt is made to reconstruct an outline
of the life and death of the soldiers.
This first room also presents an attractive, educational exhibition of the weapons
used at the Battle of Aljubarrota.
After experiencing and benefiting from the information provided in this area, the
visitor is poised to enjoy the multimedia spectacle that follows in the next area.
Second Room: The Show “The Royal Battle”

The tour continues into the auditorium, where a multimedia show about the Battle of
Aljubarrota is presented. This show takes approximately thirty minutes and is available
in several languages. In the amphitheatre, the visitors encounter an accessible pano
ramic projection and an instructive description of the battle, using the most advanced
technology and special effects.
The film combines documentary research with a lively presentation of events, in
order to spark the audience’s interest in this historical episode. It includes different
readings of the Battle of Aljubarrota, in a multidisciplinary approach that aims to offer
a global view, provide clues, stimulate the interest and curiosity of the audience, but
Plate 8: Main Entrance, The Centre of Interpretation of the Battle of Aljubarrota.
Plate 9: Interactive Exhibit on Leading Figures,

The Centre of Interpretation of the Battle of Aljubarrota.
also stress the strategic character, the intelligence, the leadership, and willpower of the
participants in the battle.
This multimedia spectacle is presently the most innovative in Europe in terms of
describing a medieval battle, and has attracted the attention of visitors from all nation
alities.
Third Room: Archeological Findings in this Battlefield

The archaeological ditch is the main point of interest in this area. This ditch is part of the
remains of the battle’s defence system and is still well preserved. Since it was discovered
during the construction of the Interpretation Centre, it was decided to change the shape
of the building, in order to incorporate it.
In the remaining part of this area, the visitor sees an extended exhibition of arche
ological objects found in this battlefield. Here, we document the archaeological cam
paigns which, from the 1950s to the present day, have uncovered the English-inspired
defence system, which included hundreds of holes in the ground and long ditches.
Plate 10:
St. Jorge Chapel.
Plate 11: Interpretation

Centre of the First Position
of the Portuguese Army,
Interactive Exhibit.
Plate 12: General View of the Centre.
Other Services Offered to the Public

Once or twice a year, the Centre organizes temporary expositions, dedicated to various
events that took place during the Independence War, between 1383 and 1411. One of
these expositions always takes place during around August 14 each year, the anniver
sary of the Battle of Aljubarrota.
The Centre also has a restaurant decorated in medieval fashion, catering for up to
eighty people. The various menus offered incorporate elements used in the Middle
Ages. The Centre also has a shop with a variety of unique objects related to the battle. It
includes books, weapons, clothes, and various other specially-made objects.
Finally there is an education area covering fifteen hundred square metres (both
indoors and outdoors) with a varied educational programme, aimed not only at schools
but also at other groups, individuals, and families. The advantage of this Interpretation
Centre is that, apart from a good explanation of the battle, which takes place indoors,
it also has different outdoors activities, assisted whenever necessary by staff from the
Centre. These activities include the audio-guided tour of the battlefield, available in
eight different languages with fifteen stopping points, taking approximately forty min
utes to complete. There is also a medieval machines park, which exemplifies the usage of
medieval instruments, located close to a picnic area. It even includes a location suitable
for supervised crossbow shooting.
Surrounding Landscape
The Interpretation Centre was designed to promote a closer relationship with the sur
rounding landscape. Therefore, visitors have the opportunity to explore the Aljubarrota
battlefield and understand how and where the most important actions took place. These
major landmarks include the locations where the Portuguese army and the French/
Castilian army were initially located; the place where Nuno Á� lvares Pereira, King João
I, the English archers, and the “ala dos namorados” (the name given to the left flank of
the Portuguese army composed of crossbowmen) were positioned; the position of the
bombards used by the Castilian army and of the French cavalry, of King Juan I, and so on.
Within this regenerated historic site, we can still admire the Chapel of São Jorge,
built through the initiative of Nuno Á� lvares Pereira eight years after the battle, in 1393,
in order to thank Our Lady for this victory.
The Batalha de Aljubarrota Foundation believes that despite the inauguration of the
Interpretation Centre in 2008, its work can never be fully completed. In fact, improving
the exhibition presented to the public, in particular in its multimedia component, will
require regular renewal and improvements to its content. At the same time, the possibil
ity of walking through the battlefield enables the visit to became more didactic and eas
ily accessible, allowing for a more complete understanding of how the battle was fought.
These two objectives, which should be pursued simultaneously, may be implemented
over the years but will never be considered fully achieved.
The Interpretation Centre of the First Position of

the Portuguese Army in the Battle of Aljubarrota
This Interpretation Centre is positioned close to the approximate location of the place
chosen by Nuno Á� lvares Pereira to intercept the march of the Castilian army, and is
therefore where the battle began. Inside, visitors are invited into three multimedia
rooms, including a panoramic view of the Monastery of Santa Maria da Vitória, built
after a promise made by King João I before the battle began.
In this building, we find a description of how this monastery was built in the fifteenth
century, since it represents a masterpiece of medieval engineering and architecture.
Final Remarks
The two Interpretation Centres, together with the battlefield, aim at preserving and
explaining to the public a crucial moment in the history of Portugal, as we have seen
throughout this book.
The preservation of such a legacy is fully recognized in Portugal as it values and dig
nifies a significant part of Portuguese cultural heritage. The preservation of this battle
field, together with the inauguration of these two Interpretation Centres, makes visible a
longheld desire of the Portuguese people, whilst providing a meaningful touristic point
of interest for visitors of all nationalities.
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INDEX
Abbot of Alcobaça (D. João de Ornelas), Bayonne, Treaty of, 72, 125
44, 67 Beatriz (daughter of the Constable,
Afonso (duke of Bragança), 95 wife of Afonso duke of Bragança), 95
Afonso Henriques (Afonso I of Portugal), Beatriz (daughter of Fernando I of
75, 99, 109, 123 Portugal, wife of Juan I of Castile),
Afonso IV of Portugal, 2–3, 5, 84, 124 6–10, 13–14, 16, 19, 43, 71, 77, 125
Alfonso VI of Castile–Leon, 28 Benedict XVI, Pope, 71, 88
Afonso VIII of Castile, 24 Bernaldom Solla, 67
Afonso X of Castile–Leon, 26, 121 Black Death, 1
Agincourt, Battle of, 31, 33, 65 Black Prince, 30
Airas, Gil, 79 Bouvines, Battle of, 33
Alarcos, Battle of, 24 Brandão, António (Alcobaça monk), 99
Albuquerque, Fernando Afonso de Brandão, António, 102
(master of Santiago), 12, 70 Brandão, Francisco, 102
Alcáçovas (Toledo), Treaty of, 92 Brétigny, Treaty of, 4, 31
Alcanices, Treaty of, 3 Brito, Bernardo de, 102
Alcântara, Master of, 56, 63, 67 Bruce, Robert, 31, 33
Alcoutim, Treaty of, 5
Alexios I Komnenos (Byzantine emperor), 32 Calais, Treaty of see Brétigny
Alfarrobeira, Battle of, 84 Calatrava, Master of, 56, 67
Almeida, Cristovão de, 100, 121 Cambridge, Earl of, 6
Andeiro, João Fernandes (count of Ourém), Camões, Luís de, 93, 106
6, 9–11 Campo Maior, siege of, 73
Anes, Feranando (treasurer of the house of Castro, Dinis de, 8, 9, 14
Count Dom Álvaro Peres de Castro), 41 Castro, Inês de, 8, 10, 14, 83
Antioch, Battle of, 31 Castro, João de, 8, 9, 10, 14, 83
Art of War, 32 Catherine of Lancaster
Ascalon, Battle of, 31 (daughter of John of Gaunt, wife of
Atoleiros, Battle of, 12, 36, 85, 114 Enrique III of Castile), 72, 73
Avelar, Gomes Lourenço do (bishop of Centre of Interpretation of the Battle of
Évora), 4 Aljubarrota (CIBA), x, 47, 55, 111,
Avignon Papacy, 3, 5–6, 14, 94, 97; 114–20
see also Clement VII and Gregory XII Chagas, António das, 100
Avis, Master of, 9–12, 14–16, 19–21, Chagas, Manuel Pinheiro, 105–6
35, 38, 55, 70, 75, 77, 81, 83; Chapel of São Jorge, 37, 47–49, 51–52,
see also João I of Portugal 54–56, 61, 68, 88, 118–19
Ayllón (Segovia), Treaty of, 73, 91 Charles VI of France, 19, 33, 36
Chaves, siege of, 71
baker woman of Aljubarrota, 95, 100, 102, Chianca, Rui, 107
104–5, 107, 125 Chroniques see Froissart
Bannockburn, Battle of, 31, 51, 53 Clausewitzian concept of war, 22
Barroca, João da (friar), 83 Clement VII, Pope, 6
Battle of Aljubarrota Foundation, x, 55, Coelho, Egas, 19
113–15, 119 Coimbra, siege of, 11
128 Index
Constance (daughter of Pedro I of Castile, Espan de Lion (knight), 36, 51, 59, 62, 68
wife of John of Gaunt), 16 Estado Novo, 86, 108–9, 111, 125
Coria, siege of, 71
Correixas, Martim Gil de, 67 Fernando de Antequera (king of Aragon),
Cortes, 10, 73, 98; 6, 73
of Coimbra, 14, 16–17, 19, 35, 75, 81; Fernando I of Leon, 24
of Lamego, 99; Fernando I of Portugal (the Handsome),
of Tomar, 94 4–9, 11, 13–14, 35–36, 77, 81– 82, 84,
councils of war, 21, 37, 39–43, 45, 53, 57, 98 121, 124
Courtrai, Battle of, 51, 54, 65, 68 first Portuguese position, 48, 115, 118, 120
Coutinho, Gonçalo Vasques, 19 Fogaça, Lourenço Anes (chancellor), 12,
Crécy, Battle of, 2–4, 30, 39, 44, 50, 53, 56, 19, 70
65, 121 Fonseca, Faustino da, 107
Crónica de D. Fernando, 5–7, 124 Froissart, Jean (French chronicler), 36–37,
Crónica del Rei Dom João I, 10–13, 16, 19, 40, 42, 46–47, 51, 53–55, 57–63,
39–40, 42, 49, 53, 55–56, 58, 60–63, 65, 67–70, 76, 79–80, 114, 122,
65, 67, 71–72, 76–78, 82–83, 85–86, 123, 125
88, 91–92, 97, 99, 124 Fundação Batalha de Aljubarrota
Crónica del rey don Juan, 35–36, 38–39, 50, see Battle of Aljubarrota Foundation
55–58, 63–64, 67, 73, 76, 121
Crónica do Condestabre, 47, 49, 54, 76, Galvão, Duarte, 99, 123
78–79, 86, 122, 124 García Albornoz, Álvaro (chief
Crusader States, 31 cupbearer of Juan I), 19
Cunha, João Lourenço da, 14 Garrett, Almeida, 104
Cunha, Martim Vasques, 19 Geoffrey of Monmouth, 44
Gillingham paradigm, 25, 28, 30–31, 35
Dantas, Júlio, 107 Gregory XII, Pope, 5
De re militari see Epitoma rei militaris Guy of Lusignan (king of Jerusalem), 32
Dinis of Portugal, 85
Domingues, Mestre Afonso, 104 Halidon Hill, Battle of, 33–34, 56
Dorylaeum, Battle of, 31 Harald Hardrada, 31
dual monarchy, 79, 94–95, 98–100, 109, Harold Godwinson, 29, 31
113–15 Hastings, Battle of, 29
Duarte of Portugal, 24, 77, 87, 89, 92, 95, 100 Hattin, Battle of, 33
Dupplin Moor, Battle of, 31, 33, 65 Henry “The Navigator” (son of João I of
Dyrrachium, Battle of, 32 Portugal), 74, 111
Henry V of England, 31
Edward Balliol, 31 Herculano, Alexandre, 104, 125
Edward II of England, 31 Hundred Years’ War, ix, 1, 3–5, 33, 36, 39,
Edward III of England, 23, 29–30, 33–34, 76, 79, 116, 121, 124
44, 53, 65, 79, 123, 125
Elvas, siege of, 19, 21, 37 Interpretation Centre see Centre of
Elvas, Treaty of, 6 Interpretation of the Battle of
Enrique II of Castile, 4, 5, 13, 35, 80, 121 Aljubarrota (CIBA)
Enrique III of Castile, 72–73, 79, 80
Enrique of Trastâmara Jean de Bueil (admiral of France), 44
see Enrique II of Castile Jean de Rye (French knight, chamberlain
Epitoma rei militaris, 25–28, 32, 121, 125–26 of Charles V), 39, 50, 57, 67
Index 129
Jesus, Rafael de, 102 Lopes, Fernão (Portuguese chronicler),

Joachim of Fiore, 85 4–7, 10–13, 16, 19, 37, 39, 40–43,
João I of Portugal (of “Good Memory”), ix, 47, 49, 53, 55–56, 58, 60–63, 65, 67,
2, 9, 11, 14–17, 19, 21, 31, 33, 35–37, 71–72, 76–87, 89, 91–92, 97, 114, 124
40–44, 48, 51, 53, 56, 62–63, 70–75, Lopez de Ayala, Pero (chronicler and
77–79, 81–89, 91–93, 95, 97, 100, chancellor of the Castilian King), 12,
102–4, 111, 119–20, 122, 124, 126; 35–40, 45, 47, 49–50, 54–58, 63–64,
see also Avis, Master of 67, 73, 76, 80–81, 114, 121, 123
João II of Portugal, 92, 94, 122, 123 Loudoun Hill, Battle of, 33
João III of Portugal, 93
João IV of Portugal, 95, 97–100, 102, 104, Macedo, António de Sousa de, 100, 124
122 Manuel I of Portugal, 92, 99
João V of Portugal, 102 Marchfeld, Battle of, 31
João, duke of Braganza see João IV of Martins, J. P. Oliveira, 106
Portugal Medina del Campo, Treaty of, 74, 84, 91
Joham de Monferrara, 67 Melgaço, siege of, 73
John of Gaunt (duke of Lancaster), 16, 70, Melo, Jose Correia de, 103
72, 73 Melo, Vasco Martins de, 67
John of Salisbury, 26, 77 Meneses, Luís de (count of Ericeira), 100
Juan I of Trastâmara (king of Castile), ix, mercenaries, 16, 19, 26, 36, 45
2, 6–12, 14, 16, 19–21, 35–43, 45, Methven, Battle of, 33
47–51, 53, 55, 57–61, 64, 67–68, 71, Monastery of Santa Maria da Batalha, 74,
73, 76–77, 80, 83, 86, 97, 100, 119, 87–89, 95, 104, 108, 120
121, 125 Mons-en-Pévèle, Battle of, 65
Juan II of Castile, 73–74 Morgarten, Battle of, 31
Júnior, José da Silva Mendes Leal, 105
Najéra, Battle of, 33, 68
Kortrijk see Courtrai, Battle of Natividade, Luís da, 91, 97
Nicaea, Battle of, 31
La Rochelle, Battle of, 4 Northallerton see Standard
Lancaster, Duke of see John of Gaunt
Las Navas de Tolosa, Battle of, 24, 29, 121, Ottokar II of Bohemia, 31
123 Ourém, count of see Andeiro
Leão, Duarte Nunes de, 99, 123 Ourique, Battle of, 75, 99, 109
Leonor (daughter of Enrique II of
Trastâmara), 5 Pacheco, João Fernandes, 19, 36, 40, 51, 58,
Leonor of Portugal (wife of Pedro IV of 60, 68, 79
Aragon), 3 Pais, Álvaro, 41
Leopold of Austria, 31 Pedro I of Castile (the Cruel), 4–5, 10, 16,
Limousin, Regnault (French marshal), 40, 80
45 Pedro I of Portugal, 2–4, 8–9, 14, 77,
Lisbon, siege of, 12–13, 20–21, 35–36, 41, 81–84, 124–25
43–44 Pereira, Álvaro Gonçalves (prior of the
Lisois d’Amboise (seneschal of Geoffrey Order of Hospitallers), 84–85
Martel), 31 Pereira, Nuno Álvares (constable), 11–16,
Livro de Linhagens do Conde D. Pedro, 85, 19, 21, 39, 41–42, 44, 47–49, 53–54,
124 56, 58, 61–63, 67, 70–71, 75–76, 79,
Lobo, Francisco Rodrigues, 95–96 81, 84–88, 93, 95–96, 100, 102–4,
106–9, 111, 119–25
130 Index
Philippa of Lancaster (daughter of John of Sousa, António Caetano de, 103

Gaunt, wife of João I of Portugal), 15, Sousa, Manuel de Faria, 97
72, 74, 86, 88–89 Stamford Bridge, Battle of, 31
Philippe II Auguste of France, 33 Standard, Battle of the, 31
Philippe VI of France, 33 Stephen of England, 31
Pina, Rui de, 78 Sumario de los Reyes de España, 47, 51,
Pinto, Brito de Alvim, 103 53, 55
Pinto, Treaty of, 7 Sun Tzu, 32
Poitiers, Battle of, 31, 39, 50
Portuguese Constable Tagilde, Treaty of, 5
see Pereira, Nuno Álvares Teixeira, Domingos, 103, 125
Pragmática, law, 2 Teles, Leonor, 5, 7, 9–11, 14, 35, 39, 121
Prince of Wales, 4 Telo, João Afonso (count of Barcelos),
prisoners, 29, 60, 61, 67, 69, 80 39–40, 45
processions (commemorating the Theobald I, count of Blois, 31
Battle of Aljubarrota), 91–94, Tordesilhas, Treaty of, 92
97, 100, 104 Tours, Battle of, 31
Trancoso, Battle of, 16, 19–20, 36–38, 40,
Regras, João das (chancellor), 14–15, 19 79, 114, 121
Ribeira, Pero Afã da (captain of the Trancoso, Treaty of, 72, 125
Castilian fleet), 41 Troyes, Treaty of, 31
Ribeiro, João Pinto, 98 Tui, siege of, 73
Richard II of England, 6, 12, 125
Robert de Artois, 68 Urban VI, Pope, 6
Rudolph I of Habsburg, 31
Valencia de Alcántara, siege of, 73
Salvaterra de Magos, Treaty of, 7–8, 10–11 Valverde, Battle of, 70, 106
Sancho IV of Castile-Leon, 24 Vasconcelos, Matilde, 105
Santos, Manuel dos, 102 Vegetian paradigm modified, 32
Sarmento, Diogo Gomes, 41 Vegetius, 25–33, 45, 121, 125, 126;
Schaub, Jean-Frédéric, 94, 125 see also Epitoma rei militaris and
second Portuguese position, 49–51, 54, 64 Vegetian paradigm modified
Siete Partidas, 26, 121
Smail paradigm, 25; see also Gillingham Windsor, Treaty of, 1, 12, 16, 72, 75, 86, 122
paradigm
Smail–Gillingham paradigm, 30 Zalaca, Battle of, 28

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EUROPEAN MEDIEVAL BATTLEFIELDS

Supported by the CARMEN Worldwide Medieval Network, European Medieval Battle­

© 2020, Arc Humanities Press, Leeds

ISBN (print): 9781641890618

List of Illustrations. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vii

Chapter 1. Before Aljubarrota

Chapter 2. Fighting a Battle in the Middle Ages

Chapter 3. The Decision to Fight at Aljubarrota

Chapter 4. The Decisive Battle

Chapter 5. Casualties and the Aftermath

Chapter 6. Contemporary Memory and Myth-Making

Chapter 7. The Legacy for Later Memories

Chapter 8. The Battle of Aljubarrota Interpretation Centres

Select Bibliography. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 121

Figure 1: Chronica do Condestabre de Portugal. Lisbon, 1526.

Figure 2: Coronica do Condeestabre d’Portugall, 1554. Title page (fol. 1v)

Figure 3: O Condestabre de Portugal D. Nuno Alvres, Pereira, by Francisco

Map 2: Preparatory Manoeuvres on the Battlefield. From João Gouveia

Map 3: Excavations on the Battlefield, showing excavations made by

Table 1: Genealogy of Portuguese Kings, Queens, and Offspring, ca. 1350–1450. . . . . 8

Plate 1: Morte do Conde Andeiro (Death of Count Andeiro), by José de

Plate 2: Portrait of King João I of Portugal, anonymous, early fifteenth

Plate 3: The New Ditch (Portuguese rear-guard). Photograph by

Plate 5: História do Portugal Restaurado, by Luiz de Menezes. Lisbon, 1679.

Plate 6: Cruzada nacional “Nun’Alvares.” Journal cover, Lisbon, 1922. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109

Plate 7: O século. Número extraordinário comemorativo do duplo centenário

Plate 8: Main Entrance, The Centre of Interpretation of the Battle

Plate 9: Interactive Exhibit on Leading Figures, The Centre of Interpretation

Plate 10: St. Jorge Chapel. Reproduced with permission of CIBA

LUÍS ADÃO DA FONSECA and MARIA CRISTINA PIMENTA

The Historical Context

10 Chancelaria de D. Pedro I, ed. A. H. Oliveira Marques (Lisbon: Instituto Nacional de Investigação

20 An interesting publication on this topic can be read in Doctrinas y relaciones de poder en el

Castile Turns from Friend to Enemy, 1383–1384

29 Russell, A Intervenção Inglesa, 226–27, 231–32 and 386–89.

Plate 1: Morte do Conde Andeiro (Death of Count Andeiro),

51 Caetano, História do Direito; Sousa, As cortes medievais portuguesas; Coelho, D. João I.

55 Coelho, D. João I, 65.

FIGHTING A BATTLE IN THE MIDDLE AGES

JOÃO GOUVEIA MONTEIRO

August 12, 1385

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Map 1: The Theatre

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Vegetius and the Theory and Practice of Warfare

20 Strickland, War and Chivalry, 43n69.

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30 Richardot, Végèce et la culture militaire, 78–84.

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Reaction against the “New Orthodoxy”

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amongst the portfolio of tactics at their disposal of medieval military commanders. He

40 Rogers, “The Vegetian ‘Science of Warfare’,” 9.

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In conclusion, for Rogers it is an exaggeration to say that medieval strategy appears

What this Means for Aljubarrota

47 Rogers, “The Vegetian ‘Science of Warfare’,” 19.

Supported by the CARMEN Worldwide Medieval Network, European Medieval Battle

João I.19 In this sense, and espe