Revisiting the Murder of the Jew Priscus in Sixth-Century Paris

Abstract

The murder of Priscus the Jew seems to be one of the earliest documented episodes of murder involving Jews in the European Middle Ages. The incident, described by Gregory of Tours (Gregorius Turonensis) in his great work, Decem Libri Historiarum (Ten Books of Histories) involves the murder of the Jew Priscus at the hands of Phatir, his former coreligionist and new convert to Christianity, which occurred in the Frankish Kingdom of Neustria in 581 or 582, during the reign of King Chilperic I. In this study, based on a close reading of the relevant texts I attempt to illuminate what this incident may teach us about Jewish social and political life in the Merovingian kingdoms. I suggest, contrary to previous scholarship that saw the theological aspects of the conversion as paramount, that the murder was the result of a competition among the elite in the court of the king and highlight what we may learn from this case about the sources of Jewish religious law and what Jews and Christians living in this time knew about them. Thus, after a careful reading of the primary source, I propose an interpretation of the circumstances that precipitated the violent act, as well as the manner in which it was recorded in the writings of Gregory of Tours.

Jewish involvement in crime in medieval Europe has been examined in academic research from time to time, but only recently has it been addressed in a systematic manner. Much of the existing research deals with the high Middle Ages when the number of sources at our disposal rises and focuses on financial crimes, threats and violence, while a lacuna remains in the research regarding the most severe of crimes, murder. ¹ In the present study, I wish to discuss what seems to be one of the earliest documented episodes of murder involving Jews in the European Middle Ages. This murder incident is described by Gregory of Tours (Gregorius Turonensis) in his great work, Decem Libri Historiarum, commonly known as ‘Histories’. It involves the murder of the Jew Priscus at the hands of Phatir, his former coreligionist and a recent convert to Christianity, which occurred in the Frankish Kingdom of Neustria in 581 or 582, during the reign of King Chilperic I.

Previous scholarship on this episode has focused on the issue of religious conversion and the coercive measures designed to prompt conversion mentioned in the text. The crime of murder itself, its motives and circumstances have seldom been discussed. ² Moreover, it seems that this episode has actually very little to tell us about religion, at least in the sense of conversion. Gregory himself was interested in it because of religion, and to a large extent, modern historians have been too. In this study, I will attempt to illuminate what this incident may teach us about Jewish social and political life in the Merovingian kingdoms. I will suggest that the murder was the result of a competition among the elite in the court of the king and highlight what we may learn from this case about the sources of Jewish religious law and what Jews and Christians living in this time knew about them. Thus, after a careful reading of the primary source, I will propose an interpretation of the circumstances that precipitated the violent act, as well as the manner in which it was recorded in the writings of Gregory of Tours.

While there has been an increase in scholarship relating to the place of Jews in early medieval Europe, it is fair to say that there is still much to learn on this subject. ³ Much like the origins and annals of other centres of Jewish population north of the Alps in the early medieval period, the origins of the Jewish communal presence in sixth-century Paris (Lutetia), where, according to Gregory, the episode occurred, are murky. Archaeological findings from this early period pertaining to Jewish life in the region are minimal, and there is no extant legal, liturgical or other Jewish literature from this period that originated from the Frankish kingdoms. ⁴ For this reason, the writings of Gregory of Tours, ⁵ especially his Decem Libri Historiarum, stand out among the few sources that mention a Jewish presence in Northern Europe. At present, Gregory’s works serve as an invaluable source of information regarding the Merovingian kingdoms of the time. ⁶

Gregory recorded his account of the murder in the sixth book of the Decem Libri Historiarum, which deals with the reign of Chilperic I between the years 561 and 584. When describing the events of the years 581–2, Gregory wrote: ⁷

Meanwhile, a dispute arose between him (=Priscus) and Phatir, a convert from Judaism, who now was the king’s godson. On the Sabbath day, Priscus, wrapped in a prayer-shawl (praecinctus orario, in Hebrew: Talit) and carrying nothing made of iron so as to fulfil the law of Moses, proceeded to the place of prayer. ⁸ As he did so, Phatir suddenly appeared with a sword and butchered [Priscus] and the attendants he had with him. When they were slain, [Phatir] and his slaves, who had been on an adjoining square, fled to the basilica of St. Julian. ⁹ While there, they learned that [King Chilperic] granted the master [Phatir] his life but ordered that his slaves be dragged from the basilica and put to death as criminals. Then, after the master had fled, one of [the slaves] drew his sword, killed his fellows, and afterwards stepped out of the basilica with his sword: ¹⁰ the people rushed forward and cruelly killed him. Phatir, however, obtained permission to leave and returned to the kingdom of Guntram, from which he had come. Not many days later Priscus’s relatives killed him. ¹¹

I believe this affair should be seen as part of a broader setting, relating to the internal politics of the Chilperic’s kingdom, the ties among the various figures in the account (Priscus, Phatir, King Chilperic and the narrator himself), and, no less important, the narrator, Gregory of Tours, own agenda. It is worth examining how Gregory chose to depict the murder and its consequences, and the larger context in which the matter was recorded.

Real Jews and Concrete Events, or a Literary Fiction?

Before examining the story’s plot, we must establish the reliability of Gregory’s text on this matter. Some scholars have determined that at least a number of the events in which Gregory mentions Jews are ahistorical stories and are discussions of ‘virtual’ Jews. ¹² Yet, as Stefan Esders comments, ‘The Merovingian kings’ relation to the Jews appears as highly relevant to Gregory in theological terms, but this should not obscure the political background of measures taken against the Jews in the 570s and 580s’. ¹³ In light of this assertion and the fact that Esders is among those who hold that Gregory’s depictions reflect actual and not figurative, Jews, it is fair to assume that these discussions, including the murder incident central to this paper, relate to a concrete Jewish community and actual individuals. ¹⁴ Moreover, this instance of murder and others like it took place during Gregory’s lifetime, and he and his contemporaneous associates are depicted in the text as participants in the events surrounding the murders. Accordingly, although the events must have undergone significant literary crafting at the hand of the narrator, there is no clear evidence to contradict the reality of this episode. Furthermore, the scene, as depicted in Gregory’s writing, is not a reiteration of any well-known literary trope. Thus, we may speculate, with a mild degree of certainty, that we are dealing with concrete events involving real people and not a completely fictitious story and characters.

Priscus, the Jews and the Attempts to Convert the Jews in the Realm of King Chilperic

The gruesome events of the murder of Priscus and his entourage in Paris are not the first account in which Priscus the Jew makes an appearance in Gregory’s Decem Libri Historiarum. In an earlier mention in the DLH, Priscus is described as someone with close contacts to King Chilperic, serving as an emissary and agent of the royal court. ¹⁵ The incident of murder is also tied closely to the conversion campaign of Bishop Avitus of Clermont (576) and to the king’s own aggressive efforts to convert Jews in late sixth-century Frankish Gaul. The passage preceding the account of the murder essentially frames the homicide firmly in this context. Gregory writes as follows:

This year, King Chilperic ordered that many Jews be baptized; he received the greater number of them (multos) from the holy font. Quite a few of them, however, were washed in body only, not in their hearts; they lied to God and returned to the same infidelity that they formerly had, with the result that they both observed the Sabbath and honoured the Lord’s Day. Absolutely no argument, however, could induce Priscus to recognize the truth. The king, enraged, ordered him to be imprisoned, so that he who could not believe voluntarily might, as it were, be made to listen and believe under duress. But [Priscus], by giving gifts to various persons, obtained a delay until his son was married to a Jewess from Marseilles; he promised craftily that, afterwards, he would go through with what the king had ordered. ¹⁶

Against this background, it is possible to view the murder as stemming from heated tensions between a person who denounced his faith and one who remained faithful to it. Yet, I suggest that the matter of the murder must also be viewed in the context in which it occurred. The stories of Chilperic’s forced conversions and Priscus’s murder at the hands of Phatir are preceded and contrasted by yet another account. Earlier in the text, Gregory reported that in 576, his mentor and role model Avitus, the Bishop of Clermont, where Gregory was born and raised, orchestrated a massive conversion of the local Jews and expelled from the city all those who refused to convert. ¹⁷ Gregory saw him as a spiritual guide who led his flock with a steady hand, a model bishop who ought to be emulated. According to Gregory’s somewhat idealised account, which may be overly enthusiastic, Avitus conducted a more proper and successful campaign to convert Jews than the crude efforts of King Chilperic.

Gregory portrayed Bishop Avitus as praying that the Lord would allow him to bring the Jews of Clermont, into the true faith, ‘and tear from their eyes the veil of Mosaic law’, which prevented them from seeing the truth of the Christian gospel. Bishop Avitus not only succeeded in his early attempts to encourage individual Jews to become Christian, but later attempted to convert the entire Jewish community of Clermont. Gregory also insisted on mentioning that Avitus prevented his community from lynching local Jews who sought to harm one of their coreligionists who wanted to convert to Christianity.

As opposed to the brutish, Byzantine style, cumbersome attempts of Chilperic, Bishop Avitus responded to the incident by preaching to the city’s Jews issuing an ultimatum, giving them the choice between converting to Christianity or leaving the city. He also took advantage of the destruction of the local synagogue by the town inhabitants to exhort pressure on the Jews to convert. After three days, ¹⁸ the majority of the Jews agreed to convert. Thereupon, the bishop exited the city and baptised them. Concurrently, the Jews who refused to be baptised were adjured to leave the city.

We know very little about Gregory’s personal feelings, he was a very sophisticated author who was very adept at camouflaging his own agenda, as is apparent with his treatment of Arians, the other ‘Other’ of his prose, or when he was personally involved in events that did not portray him especially favourably, such as the Nuns’ rebellion in Poitiers ¹⁹ . Nevertheless, it seems that his depiction of Phatir although he had converted to Christianity is not all that favourable. In Gregory’s account, Phatir was not only a new Christian belonging to a cadre of Jewish converts who converted under duress but was also among those brought to the baptismal font by no less than King Chilperic himself. Chilperic had served as the baptismal patron for a number of the converted Jews, including Phatir. M. Rouche suggested that King Chilperic’s order of 582 to have the Jews baptised was related to contemporary measures taken in Byzantium, with whom the king entertained close diplomatic ties around that time. ²⁰ An argument in favour of Rouche’s assumption could be that King Chilperic may actually have been the first ruler in the Latin West to apply the Justinianic model of the emperor acting as godfather to foreign kings or nobles, as shown by Arnold Angenendt, and transported it in this case to convert the Jews. ²¹ This appears to have been a strikingly new phenomenon at the time and might explain to some extent the nature of Gregory of Tours’ criticism of the king’s somewhat crude attempts at conversion.

According to Gregory, unlike the converts from Clermont several years earlier, many of those who converted under the pressure exerted by the king assumed a duplicitous approach, in the manner of ‘take hold of the one; yea, also from the other withdraw not thy hand’. ²² These converts continued to observe the Jewish Sabbath while also marking Sunday as the Christian Lord’s Day. The effect achieved by this portrayal is twofold, as it presented the Jews (even those who had converted) as innately untrustworthy, while simultaneously disparaging the efforts of the king, whose attempts to convert the Jews were coercive and unaccompanied by persuasive preaching (as Avitus had done in Clermont). The tactics employed by King Chilperic did not achieve their goal.

Unlike Phatir and the duplicitous converts, Gregory portrayed Priscus as a stubborn Jew, who clung to ‘his error’. As stated earlier, when first mentioned by Gregory, Priscus was described as having a particularly close relationship with the king. ²³ Gregory also mentions that when he himself was in the king’s presence at the royal court at Nogent-sur-Marne, he witnessed what he described as a somewhat pathetic and clumsy attempt on the part of the king to engage Priscus in a religious debate and convince him of the truth of Christianity. Priscus responded with particular resolve, and despite the king’s efforts to pressure him, which also included enlisting the aid of Gregory himself, Priscus resisted all efforts to convert him.

Walter Goffart summed the accounts in Gregory’s book regarding the conversion as depending on several factors. These are Gregory’s attitude towards King Chilperic, who is depicted in a contemptible vein; ²⁴ Gregory’s own ideas and attitudes concerning his mission as a bishop and the importance of his role as a spiritual shepherd and the Christian leader of the faithful assembly; and a calculation of the proper mix of theological polemic, preaching and persuasion, conflict and coercion, as tools for successful proselytising. ²⁵ Priscus’s ongoing refusal to convert was apparently not what the king had expected. It would seem that the king’s success in converting ‘many Jews’ and his particular success in converting Phatir, who had received royal patronage at baptism, probably due to his important status prior to the conversion, had created an atmosphere with dire repercussions for Priscus.

How successful were the king’s attempts to convert the Jews in his realm? Unfortunately, the sources available to us do not allow a proper reconstruction of the events. It is not clear who succumbed to the king’s coercive attempts and converted and who did not, what means, other than a royal decree, were employed against those who refused to convert, and precisely how many Jews converted as a result of the royal edict mandating conversion. In his account of the events, Gregory employs the ambiguous term multi (many) to designate the number of converts from Judaism whom the king successfully brought to the baptismal font. Interestingly this is very different from the account regarding the conversion in Clermont where Bishop Avitus is said to have successfully converted ‘more than 500 Jews’. Considering Gregory desire to glorify the image of his mentor and friend, Bishop Avitus of Clermont, the conversion campaign in 576 seems to be more significant than the efforts of King Chilperic. ²⁶ Gregory’s comments right away about the kings’ converts’ insincerity and their double observance of sabbath and the Lord’s Day. This, according to Goffart, seems to reflect his belief that the king’s conversion campaign was a failure, compared to Avitus’s success, and those Jews who were converted under duress did not truly accept Christianity. However, given Gregory’s understanding of how important the observance of the sabbath was to the steadfast Jews, (like Priscus) by presenting Phatir as someone who both publicly perpetrated a murderous act on the Sabbath and by exploiting his opponent’s observance of this holy day, is important. It serves as something of a testament to Gregory’s hint that Phatir was ‘different’ from the other converts. This difference manifested itself both by royal patronage in baptism as well as in Phatir’s public display of indifference to the sabbath. This does not suggest that Gregory is at all supportive of Phatir or his actions, but it is rather clear that although Gregory was disappointed by Priscus refusal to convert earlier in the text he saw in him a worthy opponent.

Contrasting Priscus with the community of those who converted to Christianity (Phatir and the converts of Clermont), and with an air that approaches admiration for the values of an equal theological rival, Gregory recounted how Priscus forcefully resisted the king’s coercive proselytisation efforts. At the beginning of his description of the murder, Gregory relates that the king ordered the imprisonment of Priscus ‘so that he, who refused to comply willingly, will be forced to listen and to believe through compulsion’. ²⁷ It seems, the purpose of Priscus’s incarceration was twofold, both to exhort pressure on him and clearly demonstrate that his freedom and status in the court depended on his willingness to convert, as well as to forcefully expose him directly to the very preaching that he sought to avoid.

From Gregory’s recounting of the events, it seems that in king Chilperic mind, if Priscus were only to listen to the preaching he was trying to avoid, he would have a change of heart and would convert. It seems from Gregory’s writing that he did not quite share the king’s belief or methods, particularly since he too had been involved in lengthy conversations with Priscus concerning theological matters, to no avail. ²⁸ As it turned out, the attempts to convert Priscus failed to develop to the point at which Priscus was compelled to listen to the sermons. Gregory hints that Priscus was well connected and wealthy, this helped him not only evade the hardships of royal incarceration but also to convince critical key people, using bribes and gifts, that he would indeed convert to Christianity soon. As mentioned earlier, Priscus took advantage of the passing time to arrange his son’s marriage to a woman from Marseilles, and possibly the son’s emigration from Chilperic’s kingdom, where Jews were now coerced to convert, to more tolerable surroundings. These actions also allowed Priscus to decrease the number of his family members residing in Chilperic’s realm, who could be threatened in order to exert pressure on him to convert.

Motives for the Murder

After having addressed the context in which Priscus’s murder occurred, we can directly consider Gregory’s depiction of the murder, its circumstances and its consequences.

What precipitated the murder? Bernard Bachrach posited that the conflict between Priscus and Phatir, which Gregory records as the background to the murder, revolved around the issue of conversion. ²⁹ This suggestion is not supported by the text before us, nor in the other background sources relating to these two men, discussed thus far. That said, the nature of the conflict is substantive, as it precipitated the violent act that took place while Phatir was engaged in the public desecration of Shabbat and Priscus was diligently observing it. Through his very actions, Phatir separated himself from both the Jewish community that had assembled for prayer and which Priscus sought to join at the time of his murder, and the group of Jews who, according to Gregory, had converted with Phatir but maintained dual loyalties, observing both ‘the Lord’s Day’ on Sundays and the Jewish Sabbath. As Priscus and Phatir were of similar social standing and were both affiliated with the court (Priscus as the king’s agent and Phatir as one who enjoyed the king’s godparenting at his baptising), and in light of Priscus’s stubborn refusal to convert and his evasion of imprisonment by using bribery alongside an assurance that he would convert in the future, I would contest Bachrach’s explanation and offer an alternative interpretation. The motive for the murder did not lie solely in a theological conflict between a devoted Jew and a Jewish apostate. In my opinion, it seems reasonable to suggest that Phatir coveted Priscus’s privileged position in the royal court, and perhaps even his appointment as a royal agent.

Conflicts of this kind, evolving into violent altercations, were common among the events recorded by Gregory in his work, and although my hypothesis has no direct basis in Gregory’s text, it does account for two matters. First, it explains Phatir’s motivation to convert and, at least externally, to demonstrate that he was unlike the other Jews, who maintained loyalty to both religions. It also explains Gregory’s presentation of the background for the murder, in which he links these two events.

As Gregory noted, Phatir willingly accepted the sacrament of baptism and conversion to Christianity, which afforded him royal kinship through Chilperic’s godparenting his baptism. Significantly, Gregory refrained from including him among those Jews who were said to maintain dual loyalties. It may be that by conducting himself in this manner, Phatir performed his act of conversion with a calculated readiness. It is quite possible that his important position before his conversion and his readiness to convert are the reasons that royal patronage was bestowed upon him for his baptism. His willingness to become baptised is particularly conspicuous, both against the backdrop of the conduct of other Jews, who converted only for appearances, and most especially in contrast to Priscus’s determined resistance to convert despite the king’s personal efforts.

Moreover, the king’s godparenthood over Phatir’s baptism seems to have had significant ramifications. Scholarship on the matter of godparenthood and adoption in early medieval Europe demonstrated the importance of this socio-religious mechanism in politics. ³⁰ According to both Byzantine and Western theologians, godparenthood created a bond of spiritual kinship that was even subjected to the incest taboo. In other words, Chilperic and Phatir had become, kinsmen through the later’s baptism. This resulted in ‘protection’, but seems to have gone even beyond that. As Joseph Lynch observed in his study on this matter, quoting Gregory, Phatir was ‘a son of the King by the reason of baptism’ (qui iam regis filius erat ex lavacro).

Given the details that Gregory provides in various places throughout his work before sharing the account of the murder, we may hypothesise that Phatir hoped for Priscus’s position or his standing in the royal court. The feasibility of realising his ambitions grew (at least in his own mind) when he not only identified the king’s desire to convert Jews but had become a kinsman of the king via his godparenthood at the baptismal font. Realising that Priscus the Jew seemed to steadfastly refuse such a move and by distancing himself from those converts who maintained dual loyalties, his own conversion came about as a response to Priscus’s sustained refusal. Phatir may have reasoned that having converted, he would gain more royal attention than he had previously enjoyed and possibly even a share of the activities in which Priscus was involved, may be even instead of Priscus.

Eventually, Phatir understood that his hopes would not be realised. Although the king bestowed his patronage and kinship upon him, he did not turn his back on Priscus, despite the latter’s continued refusal to convert, and even despite his incarceration for his stubbornness. Moreover, whatever hope Phatir may have had once the king distanced Priscus from the royal court, was dashed by Priscus’s political and financial capabilities. We do not know if Priscus was really intending to convert in the future or if he was just ‘playing for time’ and seeking a delay, without having any intention of converting (as Gregory subtly implies). It could have been that Priscus’s announcement of his decision to become baptised soon, albeit delayed, prompted Phatir’s decision to kill him when he did. If Priscus had been baptised, he presumably would have been granted royal godparenting in baptism like Phatir, thus obtaining at least an equal if not higher position to that of Phatir’s in court. Phatir therefore might have come to the conclusion that, given these circumstances, the only possible way to earn a desired closeness to the king and replace Priscus in the role of royal agent, would be by permanently removing Priscus from the scene, before receiving royal protection and kinship as he had. I suggest that this possibility, involving conversion and criminality, may have also been an important component in Phatir’s resolve to kill Priscus. Frankish historiography and hagiography are replete with discussions of similar episodes of elite violence. The Chronicle of Fredegar, the Passio Leudegarii and the Passio Praejecti, to mention but a few, all discuss many cases of factional elite violence. ³¹ Furthermore, unlike the situation in later centuries during this period Jews were seen in other parts of Gaul as elite members of society partaking both in local politics as well as in warfare. The events during the 508 siege by the Franks and the Burgundians of the city of Arles where Jews were involved in the defence and inner politics of the city discussed in the Vita Caesarii, are a case in point. ³²

Knowing that Priscus would go on the morning of the Sabbath to pray, escorted by his unarmed men (who were also Jews), Phatir and his servants lay in wait on the way leading to the place of prayer. Gregory does not identify this place explicitly, but it might have been a synagogue, since he refers to the act of congregating for prayer as secretia, and his intended meaning has been subject to some controversy. Bernhard Blumenkranz believed that this term refers to the ‘secretive’ location of the gathering as, due to the king’s efforts to proselytise the Jews, they may have had to gather for prayer in hiding. ³³ Nonetheless, another plausible interpretation is that the use of this term to indicate a place of prayer stems from the fact that prayer itself is sometimes called secretia, insofar as Christian prayer is sometimes called secretis-secretiora. ³⁴ It may well be that the Jews congregated in a private establishment and not a public designated ‘synagogue’. According to Jewish law communal prayer and the traditional reading of the Torah does not require consecrated grounds but merely the presence of ten adult male participants. The Torah (‘laws of Moses’) in the form of a Hebrew scroll written on parchment can be read aloud in ‘public’ in the presence of this minimal quorum.

Gregory refers to Priscus’s people as socii, meaning friends or associates, while Phatir’s men are pueri, meaning his attendants or those who are subservient to him. Phatir sent his servants to disperse among the places adjacent to Priscus’s walking route, apparently to ascertain that all the possible paths of movement between Priscus’s home and the place of secretia would be manned by his assassins, in a manner that seems very well planned. Phatir’s plan proved a success. Priscus and his men were surprised struck by the sword, and not one of them survived the attack.

As mentioned briefly above, as opposed to Priscus, not only did Phatir blatantly defy the sanctity of the Sabbath, although there were Jews who ostensibly converted with him and persisted in observing it, he also exploited Priscus’s Sabbath observance and his own knowledge of how people conduct themselves over the course of the Sabbath in order to ambush his opponent on the day on which he would be most vulnerable. Gregory correctly identified the observance of the Sabbath as an essential marker determining Jewish identity. However, while the attack on an unarmed Priscus en route to the place of prayer on the Sabbath was a clever tactical move, it also reflected Phatir’s absolute public disassociation from Judaism. In contrast to Phatir, Priscus is portrayed as someone who remained unconvinced by the king’s religious arguments, adhering to the three components of Sabbath observance as they were understood by Gregory in compliance to Mosaic law: He went to the place where the Jews gather for Sabbath prayers, he travelled in the public sphere with no iron on his person and therefor unarmed ³⁵ and his head was wrapped with a shawl, probably referring to the Jewish prayer shawl known as Talit. ³⁶

The Laws of Moses

Priscus’s actions, as described in Gregory’s account, are familiar to us from Rabbinic literature regarding the customs of prayer and Sabbath observance. ³⁷ Eric Y. Zimmer points to the fact that the custom of wrapping the head for the recital of the benedictions after meals and for prayer was in practice in Roman and Byzantine Palestine and was subject to criticism by the apostle Paul. ³⁸ Gregory most probably mentioned the fact of Priscus’s head was wrapped in a prayer shawl or scarf while he made his way to the prayer services for one of the following reasons: First, perhaps Priscus indeed maintained this practice. Second, the description may have been crafted in light of Paul’s critiques of the Jewish practice to wrap in preparation for, and during, prayer, thus bolstering Gregory’s portrayal of Priscus as a Jew exhibiting steadfast observance, insistently adhering to his faith. A third possibility is that this wrapping of the head is highly symbolic, literarily embodying the Jewish blindness to the Christian truth and the Jews’ stubborn refusal to remove the veil from before their faces, which would have allowed them to see the true identity of the Christian saviour and believe in his gospel, a notion employed by Gregory earlier in the text. ³⁹ Finally by covering his head Priscus’s vision was impaired and he was even more vulnerable to Phatir and his men’s attack.

Early rabbinic teachings from the second century refer to the question of the permissibility of carrying a weapon on the Sabbath and discuss a dispute between two rabbinic opinions. In the Mishna ⁴⁰ (tractate Shabbat 6:4) we find Rabbi Eliezer and the Sages describe what a person may carry from the private to the public domain on the Sabbath. The chapter, entitled ‘What a person may wear on the Sabbath’, deals with the assorted items that are found upon a person and his or her clothing, and clarifies the question of whether it is permitted to leave one’s private quarters on the Sabbath and carry certain objects from one domain to another (i.e., from the private domain to the public domain). The chapter begins with a description of women’s jewels and distinguishes between those permitted to be carried from one sphere to another and those that are not. It then continues to discuss men’s personal items, and in the fourth clause of the chapter, it is mentioned that a few men’s items are subject to dispute, although they are carried on the person’s body or clothing:

A man may not go out (on a sabbath from the private to the public sphere) with a sword or a bow or a shield or a club or a spear; and if he went out (with one of these items) he is liable to a purgation offering. R. Eliezer says: These are adornments for him (=and thus permissible—like woman’s jewellery). But the Sages say: They are nothing but shame, as it is said ‘And they shall beat their swords into plough-shares, and their spears into pruning-hooks: nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more’ (Isaiah 2:4) … ⁴¹

A number of weapons are listed in this passage, including a sword. The debate between Rabbi Eliezer and the Sages revolves around the question of how to categorise these weapons. The Sages thought that weapons may not be considered ornaments or adorning objects and therefore they may not be carried or worn (unlike women’s jewellery). Rabbi Eliezer disagreed, arguing that some weapons should be considered masculine ‘ornaments’, and thus their status would be similar to that of women’s jewellery, which, when worn and not carried, may be taken from one domain to another. In his mind, a sword is a masculine ornament, which a man uses to adorn himself and express or demonstrate masculinity, liberty (as opposed to servitude) and exhibit social rank. ⁴² The Sages considered a sword to represent something fundamentally antithetical to the sabbath itself, seen as a temporal embodiment of the ideal of yearning for peace. Consequently, they deemed, there is nothing ornamental or beautifying about weapons; on the contrary, they are repugnant and should not be worn on the Sabbath, neither in the private domain nor as a status symbol, let alone be carried out and exhibited in public.

In the Merovingian kingdoms, aside from its functionality as a weapon, the sword was indeed a prime symbol of gender and status. Priscus’s choice to refrain from carrying a sword on the Sabbath should therefore be understood as a significant and profound public declaration concerning his Jewish identity. ⁴³ It is unclear to what degree the Mishna was known to European Jewry in the sixth century, as well as how much authority this text commanded, and among which segments of the Jewish population, especially in the Latin West. ⁴⁴ Priscus’s conduct and his decision not to bear a sword on the Sabbath are consistent with the position of the Sages, cited above, which was ruled as legally binding in Jewish post-scriptural law (Halakha). Gregory’s account of the observance of the Sabbath strengthens Priscus’s exhibited religious identity, as he had already been cast, in the wider context of events, as devout in his faith and observant. In addition, it allows Gregory to explain to his readers how the confrontation between Phatir and Priscus ended as it did. Priscus was defenceless and unaware of his assailants and the event never developed into an armed altercation, a sort of life-and-death duel that was common among other figures depicted in Gregory’s works. ⁴⁵

The Laws of Moses and the Jewish Veil

As noted above, Gregory describes the conduct of Priscus as befitting the ‘laws of Moses’ (Moysaicas legis). This term appears in the corpus of Gregory’s historical writings in only one other instance, in the description of the conversions of the Jews of Clermont examined earlier. There, Gregory describes the activities of Avitus in the following manner:

The blessed bishop Avitus often admonished them to set aside the veil of the mosaic law, to understand what they read in its spiritual sense, and, by attending to sacred scriptures with a pure heart, to see that Christ was the son of the living God promised by the authority of the prophets and the law. But there remained in their hearts not, I would say, that veil which shielded Moses’ face, but a wall. ⁴⁶

Both in the event discussed in this article as well as the account of the Clermont conversions, the term ‘The Laws of Moses’ seems to describe the post-biblical interpretation given by the Jews to their scriptures (codified in the Mishna—mentioned above). This is what prevented them, according to Gregory and his mentor and friend Avitus, from seeing, understanding and internalising the true (Christian) spiritual meanings of the scriptural commandments and the prophets’ admonitions. Understood in this way, the practised Jewish tradition, as expressed in the Jewish Oral Tradition (the Mishna) and as performed in Jewish custom not delineated in scripture, corresponds with the term ‘laws of Moses’. The Hebrew term Mishna closely resembles the term ‘deuterosis’ as used by the authors of the Codex Justinianus, referring to the extra-scriptural Jewish traditions and practices. ⁴⁷ In his comments regarding the conversion of the Jews of Clermont, Gregory mentions the verse from Exodus (34:33): ‘And when Moses had done speaking with them, he put a veil on his face’. He suggests that while the biblical Moses probably used an actual veil made out of fabric or cloth, in the context of the Jews who resisted the truth of the Christian doctrine, the veil is a virtual or ideological barrier that seems more like an impregnable wall than cloth. Regarding this internal Jewish discussion, founded on early Jewish homiletics, the restrictions of the Sabbath in particular, including the Mishnaic ban on carrying a sword, were based upon the legal authority of what the Jewish sages referred to as ‘laws given to Moses at Sinai’, indicating an oral tradition rather than a scriptural one. ⁴⁸ Gregory’s comments may thus be a very early witness to the existence of Sabbath prohibitions not explicitly mentioned in the Bible, which were nonetheless observed at least by some of the Jews residing in Merovingian Gaul.

After the Murder

The last details in the account of the murder touch upon the events that occurred subsequently. Gregory does not provide a timeframe for the events of the murder, yet they seem to have occurred in rapid succession. The king, who was staying in Paris at that time, apparently heard of the murder soon after it occurred. He stated that he saw a distinction between Phatir, who was a new Christian, a man of stature and his godson, and Phatir’s servants, who acted upon their master’s orders. This distinction discloses much about Phatir’s standing and his affinity with the king. The king let Phatir live, escaping a heinous fate by the skin of his teeth; His men, who assisted him in carrying out the murder, were not so fortunate. Although some were not present at the murder site itself but were positioned at another square, they too took refuge with Phatir at the Basilica of St. Julian. The king ordered that they be dragged from the church, where they had found sanctuary and punished as criminals, in all severity. This could be done probably because unlike their master, Phatir, who was of a much higher social standing and had converted to Christianity, they themselves were probably servile and not baptised. This announcement by the king generated a bloodbath, as one of the men turned to his fellow servants and killed them one by one. Although these actions may be quite bewildering to the modern reader, in light of other events reported by Gregory and the fate suffered by the man when he left the church, it is reasonable to presume that the other men were fortunate to lose their lives by the sword of their friend within the church, rather than be subjected to the particularly cruel and degrading death awaiting them at the hands of the king’s agents and the mob outside. ⁴⁹ Unlike his men, Phatir had the fortune to leave the place in safety and find refuge in the kingdom of King Chilperic’s brother, King Guntram of Burgundy, which Gregory noted as the place of Phatir’s origin. ⁵⁰ Although the king took pity on the life of his ‘godson’, Phatir’s escape from execution did not mean that he escaped punishment and retributive justice altogether. Phatir quickly moved from being a royal protégé to a criminal on the run, fleeing for his life. But Phatir’s flight and exile did not culminate in his finding asylum. On the contrary, according to Gregory’s testimony, Priscus’s Jewish kinsmen succeeded in avenging Priscus’s blood when they located Phatir, and killed him following the biblical paradigm of interpersonal violence and blood vengeance (Deut.19:2).

Blood Vengeance and Jewish Avengers

The topic of redeeming blood (Heb.: Geulat Dam) and avenging blood is discussed at length in the scholarship of the Frankish kingdoms. ⁵¹ One of the best-known incidents of murder and vengeance recounted in the Decem Libri Historiarum is the incident of Sicharius and Chramnesindus. ⁵² While it is not within the scope of the present study to examine that incident in greater depth, nor to comment on the controversial issue of blood feuding and its application to this time and place, it bears certain similarities to the story of Priscus and Phatir, and a comparison between the incidents sheds some light on the account of the murder and the vengeance exacted by Priscus’s Jewish kinsmen. ⁵³ The incident of Sicharius and Chramnesindus, recorded by Gregory, took place in Gregory’s home city of Tours, and Gregory reported that he was also involved in the incident, as he attempted to act as an intercessor between the parties. In Gregory’s view, the conflict would have been better resolved through compromise, rather than the violent alternative of blood revenge. Recent studies have shown that the blood vengeance described in Gregory’s writings is particularly violent. Gregory’s behavior during the Sicharius/Chramnesindus affair was to offer Church money to quell the violence. The Church and the state are best understood here as regulating agents restricting violence through extrajudicial compensation. These attempts could range from an intervention by the local lord, to the royal family and their representatives. ⁵⁴ The story of Priscus’s murder shows that regardless of the religious convictions of the murderer, a former Jew who had recently converted to Christianity, and the victim, a Jew, both were considered among the Frankish kingdoms’ elite, or at least aspired to this status. They belonged to a group that was known by, and close to, the king; one was a member of the king’s inner circle, and the king served as the patron of the second one’s baptism. Therefore, the conflict between the two men and the murder that followed should be viewed within this context, a case of interpersonal violence and subsequent blood vengeance between members of the connected, ambitious and politically motivated elite. This Jewish elite conducted itself in accordance with their immediate non-Jewish surroundings, following similar codes that did not repudiate the use of violent means. Like fellow Frankish freemen Phatir, Priscus and the other members of the Jewish elite had their share of involvement in interpersonal violence, had affiliations related to status and positions of power in the royal courts, and aspired for positions of influence even at the price of violent altercations with lethal outcomes as part of the ‘the merging of the civil and the military, and the significance of a military identity for the elite’. ⁵⁵ Accordingly, the motivations fuelling the conflict and the related agencies of power were in my opinion no different than those of their contemporaries. ⁵⁶

Summary

It would seem that the conflict between Phatir and Priscus can arguably be framed as a competition between two members of the Jewish community over positions of power within the royal court and not only as a conflict fuelled by theological differences between a convert and a devout Jew, as scholars in the past tended to see it. Priscus is presented in Gregory’s text as someone who did not respond to the pressure exhorted on him by the king to convert, despite the fact that others in his milieu did, and continued to adhere to Judaism even after his incarceration. By contrast, Phatir one of those who baptised at the king’s behest receiving royal patronage to his conversion. He apparently did so not only due to the king’s request but perhaps also to position himself as a more appropriate alternative to Priscus, wishing to acquire the latter’s role or status as an agent for the court. When his aspirations to win the king’s favour in this capacity ended in disappointment, and since the king served as the patron of his baptism, Phatir understood that he must remove Priscus from the scene, either to seize his appointment or as an expression of his frustration. It is not surprising that the victim’s relatives after Priscus was murdered by Phatir sought to avenge his blood. Whether they considered Phatir as a Jew or a newly converted Christian, according to the standards of the Frankish world in which Priscus and Phatir lived, a murder such as this could not go unavenged. Even if Priscus’s relatives were devout Jews, much as he was, they could seemingly justify their attack by basing it on the victim’s closeness to the king and in line with the Biblical pronouncement, ‘Whoever sheds man’s blood, by man shall his blood be shed’ (Genesis 9:6) and possibly: ‘The avenger of blood shall himself put the murderer to death; when he meeteth him, he shall put him to death’ (Numbers 35:16–19) ⁵⁷ .

Although the earlier scholarship that dealt with this fascinating issue saw the matter as an internal Jewish conflict between a Jewish apostate and one who remained steadfast to his religion, I am more inclined to see the episode as a competition over money, honour, power and proximity to the court and royal favour. It is clear that the conflict is coloured with religious overtones, but at the same time it would appear that the issue of conversion, although it was an important factor and lay in the background of the matters at hand, was not the only motive for the murder. The story may also have a broader significance than just in the confines of early medieval Gaul. The power dynamics discussed here are inherent in the competition among courtiers and advisors across the Middle Ages and beyond Gaul. Furthermore, the phenomena of Jewish conversion in the service of the emperor or a king had its parallels in other geographical and temporal settings like the medieval Iberian and German courts. One name that comes to mind in this context is the fourteenth century Jewish scholar, Rabbi and royal Castilian courtier Shelomo Ha’Levi of Burgos who converted to Catholicism and became the Bishop of that same city. ⁵⁸ The recent growth of scholarship about the various aspects of conversion should definitely be consulted regarding this matter. ⁵⁹

The story also clarifies certain details regarding Jewish identifying marks in the sixth-century Latin west. A number of Gregory’s remarks allow us a glimpse at the ways some Jews in the region adhered to post-Scriptural Jewish practice, referred to by Gregory as the ‘law of Moses’, and which may correspond to what the Jews called in their inner parlance ‘the laws given to Moses at Sinai’ referring to the oral teachings and meta-scriptural practices. Judging by the fact that the Talmud arrived in the transalpine region much later and the rabbinic academies of learning were established in the Rhine valley only after its arrival (the earlier dates speak of the ninth century) the story supplies us with a peek into the practice of post-scriptural Judaism in this region at a time when even the description of a murderous act provides us with important information regarding the social context of these early times. ⁶⁰