Friendship and Something More?
Backstabbing families, dynastic extinctions, the Crusades, medieval politics, death sentences, a church in Naples, and two gay men. No, not Game of Thrones, but the very real story of King Conradin the Younger, last of the Hohenstaufens.
Never heard of him or them? Long story short: the Bavaria-based Hohenstaufens rose to fame and glory in the Dark Ages, gaining the rule of only the Holy Roman Empire, but also Sicily and the Crusader State of Jerusalem. All of that was bestowed on Conradin, born in 1252 and sole heir to the Hohenstaufens, and who from the start had enemies all around in the form of Popes, various uncles, but most of all, the vilely ambitious Charles of Anjou.
The one true friend Conradin had was Frederick of Baden, and even the tamest of histories will say the bond between Conradin and Frederick was unusually thick. To call them “inseparable” is almost an understatement. What exactly was going on between the two had tongues wagging even in their day, and to be fair, no account describes the two as lovers (exactly), but their proclamations of loyalty do seem a bit overdone to be platonic. Royals, particularly the popular, competent ones like Conradin, very often escaped the morals police. “So long as they didn’t carry on in the street and scare the horses,” etc.
In any event, however, Charles of Anjou defeated Conradin at the Battle of Tagliacozzo. Rather than have him be a rallying point among the people, Charles put the 16-year-old Conradin to death by decapitation, a fate that Frederick also received, in the market square of Naples. Conradin went first, and then Frederick, who, before he went under the sword, kissed the head of Conradin before bowing before the executioner.
The story of the two then transmogrified into a tale of romance and loyalty so strong it galvanized Sicily to rebel wholesale against Charles of Anjou, a revolt that later spread to Naples and was ultimately the end of him. To memorialize Conradin and his companion Frederick, their remains were interred together and enshrined together in the church of Santa Maria del Carmine by Conradin’s mother, Elisabeth of Wittelsbach, where they remain today.
So the next time you’re in Mercato district of Naples, take a detour to the Santa Maria del Carmine. It’s a beautiful church to begin with, but is also one of the few LGBT footnotes from medieval Europe. And what a story.
For more information, go to comune.napoli.it or contact Steele Luxury Travel for assistance with all of your planes to Naples and beyond // www.SteeleTravel.com