Beruflich Dokumente
Kultur Dokumente
39
Islamic Objects
in Christian
Contexts: Relic
Translation and
Modes of Transfer
Mariam
Rosser-Owen in Medieval Iberia
Abstract
Figure 1
Casket of Hisham II, c. 976,
wood and silver-gilt, h: 27 ×
w: 38.5 × d: 23.5 cm, Treasury
of Girona cathedral (inv. 64).
Photograph © Archivo Oronoz,
Madrid.
objects have been much written about, and I prefer to focus here on less-
frequently discussed objects, in particular metalwork, including several
caskets that were probably made outside the Iberian Peninsula. This
discussion thus also aims to contextualize the presence in al-Andalus of
such “foreign” objects.
One spectacular Andalusi object, now a unicum, that has survived
thanks to its use as a reliquary in Girona cathedral is formed from
silver-gilt and niello panels in repoussé over a wooden core (Figure 1).
Its inscription does not give a precise date, but informs us that it was
commissioned for Hisham, son of al-Hakam II, while he was still crown
prince. The use of the phrase wali al-‘ahd to designate his status allows
us to assign the casket to around 976, the year in which he was of-
ficially declared his father’s heir though he was still a minor.9 The casket
may well have been a celebratory gift from his father. Other intriguing
objects have been found in Cataluña: a spherical perfume bottle and a
tiny ivory unguent pot are among the objects preserved in the cathedral
of La Seu d’Urgell, founded by Bishop Ermengol (d. 1035) and conse-
crated by his successor, Eribau, in 1040.10 The spherical perfume bottle
was found together with other objects in a cavity in the main altar; it
held a relic, and it has been suggested that these objects were used in the
cathedral’s consecration.11 Their materials, production technique, and
iconography associate them with al-Andalus. The explanation usually
given for how these objects found their way to Cataluña is that they all
formed part of the booty seized during the military expedition against
Córdoba in 1010, which was led by Ramon Borrell, count of Barcelona,
and his brother Ermengol I, count of Urgell.12
Islamic Objects in Christian Contexts 43
While the aforementioned ivory and metal objects were made in al-
Andalus, other objects survive in Christian treasuries whose origins lie
outside the Iberian Peninsula. In particular, a whole range of objects can
be associated with the Umayyads’ archrivals, the Fatimids, who con-
trolled territory in North Africa from 909 until their conquest of Egypt
in the late tenth century (which they ruled until 1171). The question of
contact between al-Andalus and Fatimid Egypt during the tenth and
eleventh centuries is a little-studied area, and one that promises interest-
ing results. The most important of these Fatimid objects is a large ivory
casket, now in the Museo Arqueológico Nacional, whose lid is incised
with a long historical inscription in Arabic (Figure 2). This tells us it
was made for the Fatimid caliph al-Mu‘izz (r. 953–975), in the dynasty’s
Tunisian capital of Sabra-Mansuriyya, and though it carries no date, it
can be dated through formulae in the inscription to the 960s, the period
immediately before the Fatimid conquest of Egypt.16 However, it has
been preserved since the medieval period in the church of San Zoilo in
Carrión de los Condes, in the province of Palencia. We will return below
to how that might be.
Another Fatimid object is a silver-gilt and niello casket that has
survived in the treasury of the Real Colegiata of San Isidoro de León
(Figure 3).17 Again this attribution comes from its Arabic inscription,
which informs us that it was made for the khizana or treasurehouse of
Sadaqa ibn Yusuf. This man may be identifiable with the vizier of the
Fatimid caliph al-Mustansir (r. 1036–1094), who held office between
1044 and 1047, thus providing a rough production date for the c asket.
44 Mariam Rosser-Owen
Figure 2
Casket of al-Mu‘izz (r. 953–
975), 960s, ivory, h: 20 ×
w: 42 × d: 24 cm, Museo
Arqueológico Nacional, Madrid
(inv. 50.887). Photograph
© Archivo Oronoz, Madrid.
Figure 3
Casket of Sadaqa ibn Yusuf,
1044-7, silver-gilt and niello,
h: 7.5 × w: 12.4 × d: 7.9 cm,
Real Colegiata de San Isidoro,
León. © Museo de San Isidoro
and Fernando Ruiz Tomé.
Islamic Objects in Christian Contexts 45
Figure 4
Metal casket from San Isidoro
de León, first half of the
eleventh century?, silver-gilt
and niello, h: 8 × w: 17.7 ×
d: 11 cm, Museo Arqueológico
Nacional, Madrid (inv. 50.867).
Photograph © Archivo Oronoz,
Madrid.
were translated to Oviedo in the late eighth century (Figure 5).19 Her rel-
ics were “rediscovered” by Bishop Pelayo in 1102, who then “elevated
her with great honor”; in front of more than a hundred witnesses, he
placed the small casket which contained her relics inside a larger
silver casket [deinde capsellam ipsam misit predictus episcopus in
aliam capsam maioram argenteam], which had been donated to
that place by the lord King Alfonso, son of King Ferdinand and
Figure 5
Casket containing the relics of
Santa Eulalia of Mérida, late
eleventh or twelfth century?,
wood, silver-gilt, and niello?,
unknown dimensions, Cámara
Santa of Oviedo Cathedral.
Foto Mas 84476, Archivo
Fotográfico del Real Instituto de
Estudios Asturianos.
46 Mariam Rosser-Owen
It is presumed that the impressive silver and niello casket that today
holds Eulalia’s remains in the Cámara Santa of Oviedo Cathedral is the
casket into which they were translated in the early twelfth century, hav-
ing been previously donated by Alfonso VI (r. of León 1065–, of Castile
1072–1109), implying a date for the casket of the late eleventh century.
It is difficult to go further, because this casket is unique. Similarities with
the small casket from San Isidoro (Figure 4) are suggestive of a common
origin: their construction methods and decorative techniques, the shape
of their lids, the formal correspondences between their epigraphy, with
light-touch vegetal floriations in the spaces between the letters, and the
rather lazy form of the scroll. When compared to the casket made for
Sadaqa ibn Yusuf (Figure 3), we can see that all three metal caskets have
very similar mounts: heavily three-dimensional with chased decoration,
with the same way of constructing the hinge at the junction between lid
and body, by means of connected barrels.
Are these caskets Fatimid in manufacture? There is very little extant
Fatimid metalwork against which to judge these objects art historically,
although the recent publication of important hoards of Fatimid met-
alwork found in excavations in Israel will start to clarify the picture
of which object types were made where.21 They could also have been
made in southern Italy, since there are clear connections with a group of
objects in the treasury of San Marco in Venice, which have been linked
to “Sicilian or Southern Italian production, under Arab influence, 12th
century.”22 The distinctive motif on the walls of the Santa Eulalia cas-
ket—of a circle with four hearts arranged as if around a cross—appears,
for example, in the mosaic window embrasures of the Cappella Palatina
in Sicily. If they had been made in southern Italy, these metal objects
might have imitated Fatimid imports, or imports from further east in the
Islamic world, which were traded into the Mediterranean via Fatimid
Cairo.23 Whatever their origins, this small group of metalwork clearly
demands a study in its own right, not least because it offers a rare op-
portunity to study a group of objects that has a datable context, since
they were probably already in the Iberian Peninsula by the mid to late
eleventh century.
Other Fatimid objects have been found in Spain, such as the many ex-
amples of imported Fatimid lusterware found in excavations across the
Peninsula.24 It is even possible that Egyptian craftsmen were operating
on Andalusi soil, as indicated by the Fatimid luster dishes apparently
made in Seville in the mid eleventh century, for the city’s ‘Abbadid rul-
ers.25 In terms of ecclesiastical collections, a number hold objects carved
from rock crystal, likely to be Fatimid in manufacture as there is no
evidence for rock crystal supply or production in medieval Iberia, while
there is well-established evidence for a Fatimid industry by the end of
Islamic Objects in Christian Contexts 47
The objects that more than anything undermine the triumphalist para-
digm are Islamic textiles, which survive in their hundreds in Christian
contexts, from small fragments to massive hangings and whole outfits.
Textiles come from the insides of Islamic caskets, one example being the
unusual silk fragment with a repeating pattern of large-bodied peacocks,
which was found inside the Pamplona casket; this housed the bones of
the saintly sisters Nunilo and Alodia, and this textile may have wrapped
their relics in 1057, when the crypt at Leire was consecrated.28 Many
textiles survive that are said to have come from caskets found within
altars, and therefore they probably wrapped relics, but all trace and
memory of those relics or their containers has been lost. One such ex-
ample is the so-called “Hisham tiraz,” now in the Real Academia de la
Historia in Madrid, a woven silk headwrapping which survives selvedge
to selvedge and is more than a meter wide. It is inscribed in the name
of the caliph Hisham II (r. 976–c.1010) and is thus datable to the end
of the tenth century. It was discovered c.1853, wrapped around relics
in a casket under the altar of the church of Santa María del Rivero, in
San Esteban de Gormaz (prov. Soria), but this casket does not survive.29
Another famous silk fragment, woven with gold thread and depicting
a peacock, attributed to Andalusi production of the mid-tenth century,
was found in a church in the Pyrenees mountains, but otherwise no
more is known about its provenance.30
Islamic textiles also line caskets made in Christian lands; they emerge
from coffins, in the form of clothing, as has been abundantly demon-
strated by the finds in the Castilian royal Pantheon at Las Huelgas in
Burgos;31 but they also occur in the form of wrappings,32 which seems to
have been the original function of a spectacular and unusually large blue
silk, measuring 2.6 m wide by a little over 2 m high. This recently came
to light in the church of San Zoilo in Carrión de los Condes, in the tomb
48 Mariam Rosser-Owen
The second object is the so-called Eleanor Vase, from the Treasury
of St Denis and now in the Louvre.38 The core object is a rock crys-
tal vase, probably made in pre-Islamic Sasanian Iran, later decorated
with elaborate European mounts. These mounts are adorned with a
riddling inscription: “As a bride, Eleanor gave this vase to King Louis,
Mitadolus to her grandfather, the King to me, and Suger to the Saints.”
This was reconstructed by George Beech as a genealogy of gifts, leading
back to Imad al-Dawla (Latinized as “Mitadolus”), Muslim ruler of
the Taifa state of Zaragoza from 1110 to 1130. Imad al-Dawla fought
alongside Eleanor’s grandfather, William IX of Aquitaine, at the battle
of Cutanda in 1120, against the Almoravid takeover of al-Andalus. The
original gift of this vase was thus a symbol of collaboration between a
Christian and a Muslim ruler, against other Muslims. What is unknown
is how the Sasanian vase made its way to Zaragoza in the first place; it
may well have been in Córdoba until the fall of the caliphate, and was
appropriated by a Taifa ruler as a legitimizing device. Before coming to
the Umayyad court, it may have had a whole earlier genealogy of gifts
presented from ruler to ruler stretching back through Islamic history,
but this is part of the story we will never know.
These are not the only instances that can be reconstructed of ob-
jects being gifted across confessional borders. As Glaire Anderson has
recently argued, another Cordoban ivory object may have been made
for an Iberian Christian monarch, Queen Toda of Navarra, paternal
aunt to the Andalusi caliph ‘Abd al-Rahman III (r. 912–961) through
her mother’s marriage to the Umayyad emir ‘Abd Allah (r. 888–912).39
This familial connection as well as diplomatic contacts between
them in the 930s may have provided the scenario within which the
famous processional cross associated with San Millán de la Cogolla
was commissioned from Cordoban ivory carvers.40 Indeed during the
tenth century, many Christian soldiers fought in or alongside Muslim
armies, especially under the regency of al-Mansur (fl. 976–1002). A
significant reward for serving successfully in these campaigns was the
distribution of khil‘a, “robes of honor,” as well as other textiles, and
money. This is another important mode of transfer to consider in our
bigger picture.41
These luxury textiles were no doubt prized enough to be repurposed,
either immediately or after long use, as the linings for caskets or the
wrappings for relics. Andalusi textiles in Christian contexts, especially
those relating to the eleventh and twelfth centuries, have received some
attention in recent years, though much research remains to be done.42
Lack of study means we cannot yet accurately locate the place of pro-
duction of many of these textiles: due to the almost total academic ne-
glect of medieval embroideries we cannot say, for example, whether the
embroidery that lines the lid of the San Isidoro casket (Figure 6) was
made in al-Andalus or was another Fatimid import, as some scholars
have suggested.
50 Mariam Rosser-Owen
Figure 6
Embroidered lining of the lid
of the reliquary casket of San Relic Translation as a Mode of Transfer
Isidoro, before 1063, silk and
gold thread, casket dimensions
h: 33 × w: 81.5 × d: 44.5 cm, I would like to propose another possible means by which such objects
Real Colegiata de San Isidoro changed hands. It is plausible that it was through the translation of the
de León. Photograph © Archivo
Oronoz, Madrid.
relics of saints buried in Andalusi territory to the Christian kingdoms of
northern Iberia that many caskets and other containers traveled across
Iberia’s borders. These saints were frequently martyrs whose mortal
remains had performed miracles. However, these martyrdoms were
not due to Muslim policies of Christian persecution. While Eulogius
and the “Cordoban martyrs movement” of the mid-ninth century have
become infamous, Ann Christys has pragmatically called for perspec-
tive, classing them as extremists who were unpopular even within the
wider Andalusi Christian community.43 Other famous martyrs whose
relics I will come back to shortly did suffer at the hands of Muslims,
at least according to the hagiography: the sisters Nunilo and Alodia
refused to renounce Christianity in the mid ninth century; while, in the
early tenth century, the beautiful young boy Pelayo was executed on the
orders of the future ‘Abd al-Rahman III for refusing his sexual advances
(more incriminating, perhaps, were the insults that Pelayo rained down
on both the caliph and Islam).44 But other saints whose remains were
translated from al-Andalus were martyred under the Romans: Eulalia
of Mérida, whose relics are now in the possibly-Fatimid silver casket in
Oviedo Cathedral (Figure 5), was martyred in the early fourth century
for denying the pagan gods and insulting the Emperor Maximian.45 San
Zoilo, whose Fatimid ivory casket and possibly Bukharan silk textile
were mentioned above, was martyred in Córdoba around the same
time. He had a well-established church and congregation, located in the
neighborhood of the Umayyad Dar al-Tiraz (the state-controled textile
factory), near the late antique palace of Cercadilla.46 The church of San
Zoilo is mentioned several times in the Calendar of Córdoba, an almanac
Islamic Objects in Christian Contexts 51
Both saints were translated to León. These accounts were written for
reasons of religious and political propaganda—San Pelayo’s translation
is recorded in a Passion written by a Mozarabic priest and retold in
the Crónica Sampiro; San Isidoro’s is described in the Historia Silense,
written in the early twelfth century under Leonese royal patronage—but
some basic common facts can be established.49 Embassies were sent,
from León to Córdoba in the first case, to Seville in the second. The
Historia Silense relates that Fernando I (r. 1037–1065) preceded his
embassy to Seville with a military campaign, in which the Taifa ruler
al-Mu‘tadid (r. 1042–1069) was defeated; this opened the way for the
king of Castile and León to request the relics. Both embassies were led
by bishops (Velasco to Córdoba, Ordoño and Alvito to Seville). Apart
from providing official sanction and protection for the safe conduct of
the relics to León, this may also have had the practical advantage of fa-
cilitating communication, since we know from Arabic historical sources
that bishops often served as interpreters in embassies from Córdoba to
the Christian kingdoms.50 Once the embassies arrived in al-Andalus, the
envoys presented themselves to the ruler to announce their mission. The
Historia Silense tells us that Ordoño and Alvito “presented the king’s
orders to Benahabet,” meaning al-Mu‘tadid, who “gave them licence
to look for the saint’s remains.” However, he tells them that neither
he nor any of his people can show them where the body can be found;
they should look for it themselves and once they find it, should “take
it and go in peace.” After several days of frustrated searching, it is only
through prayer and the supernatural intervention of the saint that they
succeed in locating Isidoro’s remains (an obvious trope).
The search will have been simpler in other cases: San Zoilo already
had a flourishing church and cult in Córdoba in the tenth century, as
we have seen; and in the hagiographies of Nunilo and Alodia, as of
Pelayo, it is clear that their relics were already venerated by Andalusi
Christians.51 Indeed, according to the hagiographical accounts, saintly
bodies were treated specifically to deter the development of cults among
local Christians, implying that this was mostly unsuccessful: they were
usually dismembered, and Nunilo and Alodia were “taken to a remote
place and buried so deep that the Christians would not be able to find
them and profit from their relics.”52 Another supernatural event allowed
their rediscovery in the mid-ninth century. A century later, Pelayo’s body
parts were thrown into the Guadalquivir, but according to his Passion,
they were recovered from the river by Cordoban Christians.53 Were
they then rededicated and venerated in a Cordoban church, packaged
and ready for collection by the embassy from Sancho I and his sister
Elvira, which arrived in Córdoba in 967? It is interesting to wonder
what the role of local Christians may have been in the process of giving
up these relics to Christians from the north—were they happily involved
in the negotiations, or did they feel deprived of their own culture and
traditions?54
Islamic Objects in Christian Contexts 53
Indeed what were the motivations that led the Andalusi rulers to give
up these relics and accede to Christian requests for translation? The sit-
uation in the middle of the tenth century, when Córdoba was the major
power on the Peninsula, was very different from the mid-eleventh, when
the Taifa states paid paria payments to secure peace, as discussed below.
The Andalusi court annals are unfortunately missing for the period of
Pelayo’s translation, but the embassy may have been sent directly by
Elvira, sister of Sancho I (d. 966) and abbess of San Salvador in León,
where the relics arrived in 967. Elvira was then acting as regent for her
young nephew Ramiro III (r. 967–984). Was the embassy driven by the
desire to secure good relations with Córdoba on the accession of the
minor? Might the translation of Pelayo’s relics have been a gift from al-
Hakam to congratulate the young monarch? In contrast, by the time of
San Isidoro’s translation the balance of power had shifted to León, and
al-Mu‘tadid may not in reality have had much of a choice in the matter.
Once you have located your saintly remains, you need to wrap them
up in something, and then find something else to put them in. (The
bones of dismembered limbs might easily fit inside a large casket.) Juan
Carlos Ruiz Souza mentions an anecdote that is telling in this regard.
Gonzalo de Berceo, in his thirteenth-century Life of Santo Domingo de
Silos, narrates the miraculous release of the captive Serván through the
saint’s intercession: Serván brings his chains as an offering to the saint’s
tomb where the monks consider them a great relic, and then “look for a
precious casket in which to house them.”55 This implies that you might
look around for something close at hand in which to wrap and contain
the relics. Alternatively you might buy something available on the local
art market. On the other hand, embassies acting under royal authority
and with the blessing of the Andalusi ruler might enjoy patronage in
the form of the donation of wrappings and containers. This might be
what is indicated by the following incident in the San Isidoro transla-
tion story: as the Leonese embassy was preparing the saint’s remains
for departure, the Taifa ruler al-Mu‘tadid threw over the body “a gold
and silk brocade textile of admirable work” (cortinam olosericam miro
opere contextam). It may well be that one or other of the two textiles
that still line the saint’s reliquary casket today derive from this precious
textile gift; indeed, the embroidery fragment that lines the lid is made
with gold silk (Figure 6). Textiles used to wrap such holy remains be-
came “contact relics,” and would not be discarded.56 The Islamic silks
used to line other saints’ reliquary caskets may also preserve the pre-
cious textiles originally used to wrap relics during the physical process
of translation, even if a new housing was made for those relics once they
reached their final destination.
Might the other objects found inside some of these caskets also have
formed part of the original translation process? San Pelayo’s relics were
collected from Córdoba in 967, during the reign of the Andalusi ca-
liph, al-Hakam II. Apart from the silk textile that lines his reliquary,
54 Mariam Rosser-Owen
Figure 7
Heart-shaped reliquaries
holding relics of San Pelayo,
960s, silver-gilt and niello,
h: 2.1 × w: 3.3 × d: 3.2 cm (of
largest), Real Colegiata de San
Isidoro de León. © Museo de
San Isidoro and Fernando Ruiz
Tomé.
Figure 8
Detail of the mounts on the lid
of the ivory casket made for a
daughter of ‘Abd al-Rahman
III, c. ad 961, silver and niello,
casket dimensions h: 4.3 ×
w: 9.5 × d: 6 cm, Victoria and
Albert Museum (inv. 301-1866).
Photograph © Victoria and
Albert Museum, London.
Islamic Objects in Christian Contexts 55
Conclusions
direct contact with, for example, the Fatimids. But this approach opens
new vistas: it allows us to better understand the variety of objects avail-
able in al-Andalus during the caliphal and Taifa periods, which included
Central Asian textiles and Fatimid metalwork, as well as objects of pre-
Islamic origin, such as the Sasanian rock crystal vase which ended up
in St Denis.63 Many of the translations we know about occurred in the
eleventh century, while the objects associated with them sometimes date
from the tenth century, from the heyday of the Umayyad caliphs. This
implies the survival of caliphal objects in Taifa rulers’ treasuries after
the fall of Córdoba, where they would have been subject to other tra-
jectories, to do with legitimizing these small states vis-à-vis each other,
the Almoravid threat, and the Christian powers busily consolidating
territory.
In conclusion, it is important to read these objects in all their dimen-
sions, to take into account all possible means of contact between Muslims
and Christians on the Peninsula, and not merely think in terms of oppos-
ing binaries. Attempting to elucidate the many trajectories in which these
objects have been implicated during their lives and after-lives requires
that they be studied across borders—both perceived and actual—and
that the art (and history) of medieval Iberia be considered as a mutually
enriching and enlightening whole, rather than separated into material-
based categories or confessionally dictated academic disciplines.
Notes
13. Oliver Watson, “The Doha Box,” Journal of the David Collection
2, no. 1 (2005): 172.
14. Casamar, “Casket,” 209.
15. Ruiz Souza, “Botín de Guerra,” 34.
16. Jonathan M. Bloom, “The Painted Ivory Box Made for the Fatimid
Caliph al-Mu‘izz,” in David Knipp (ed.), Siculo-Arabic Ivories and
Islamic Painting, 1100–1300. Proceedings of the International
Conference, Berlin, 6–8 July 2007. Römisches Jahrbuch der
Bibliotheca Hertziana, vol. XXXVI (Munich, 2011): 141–50. On
this object see also Sarah M. Guérin, “Forgotten Routes? Italy,
Ifrı̄qiya and the Trans-Saharan Ivory Trade,” Al-Masaq 25, no. 1
(2013): 78–9, 83–6; Silvia Armando, “Separated at Birth or Distant
Relations? The al-Mu‘izz and Mantua Caskets between Decoration
and Construction,” paper presented at the conference Beyond the
Western Mediterranean: Materials, Techniques and Artistic Pro
duction, 650–1500, Courtauld Institute of Art, London, April 20,
2013.
17. Stefano Carboni, “Casket,” in The Art of Medieval Spain, ad 500–
1200, ed. John P. O’Neill (New York: Metropolitan Museum of
Art, 1993): 99–100, cat. 47.
18. Stefano Carboni, “Casket,” in Art of Medieval Spain, 98, cat. 45.
19. Ward, Constructing the Cámara Santa, 153–62.
20. Ward, Constructing the Cámara Santa, 154. It is not known to me
if the small casket holding the relics still survives within.
21. Elias Khamis, The Fatimid Metalwork Hoard from Tiberias, Qedem
55 (2013). The publication of the metalwork from Caesarea is
being prepared by Ayala Lester of the Israel Antiquities Authority.
An important companion volume is also recently published: Rafael
Azuar, Los bronces islámicos de Denia (s. V HG-XI d.C.) (Alicante:
MARQ, Museo Arqueológico de Alicante, 2012).
22. Kurt Erdmann, “Avori e argenti,” in Il Tesoro di San Marco, vol. 2:
Il Tesoro e il Museo, ed. H.R. Hahnloser (Florence, 1971), 119–22,
cat. no. 131, plates CVI–CVII. James Allan has attributed a metal
casket now in Doha to Sicily, late twelfth to early thirteenth century,
on the basis of its formal similarities to the “Siculo-Arabic” ivory
caskets: see James W. Allan, Metalwork Treasures from the Islamic
Courts (Doha: Museum of Islamic Art, 2002): 50–1, cat. no. 12.
23. The Y-fret pattern that covers the background of this casket is
usually associated with Eastern Islamic metalwork, of a later date,
in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. It is seen, for example, on
the inside lid of a penbox in the V&A (M.712-1910), datable
c. 1250 and attributed to the Jazira (the Upper Mesopotamian
region encompassing northwestern Iraq, northeastern Syria, and
southeastern Turkey). It is executed in a much less sophisticated
way on the Santa Eulalia casket, suggesting that it is copying an
imported Eastern Islamic object. This would argue for a later
Islamic Objects in Christian Contexts 59
date for the casket. Ward, Constructing the Cámara Santa, 159–
60, citing James Allan, suggests that this motif might be a later
continuation of now lost examples of Fatimid metalwork, though
to my knowledge it is not seen in any of the objects featured in the
citations given in n. 21, above.
24. See, for example, Bernabé Cabañero and Carmelo Lasa, “Nuevos
datos para el estudio de las influencias del Medio y el Extremo
Oriente en el palacio islámico de la Alfajería de Zaragoza,” Arti
grama 18 (2003): 253–68.
25. See the article on this fascinating group of fragments by Carmen
Barceló and Anja Heidenreich, “Lusterware Made in the ‘Abbadid
Taifa of Seville (eleventh century) and Its Early Production in the
Mediterranean Region,” Muqarnas 31 (2014).
26. Juan Zozaya, “Importaciones Casuales en al-Andalus,” in Actas del
IV Congreso de Arqueología Medieval Española, vol. I (Alicante:
Diputación Provincia de Alicante, 1993), 125; Manuel Casamar
and Fernando Valdés, “Saqueo o comercio: la difusión del arte
Fatimí en la Península Ibérica,” Codex aquilarensis: Cuadernos de
investigación del Monasterio de Santa María la Real 14 (1999):
133–60.
27. Casamar and Valdés, “Saqueo o comercio,” 150–2, pl. 1, figs 5–6.
28. J.E. Uraga, Arte medieval navarro, vol. 1: Arte Prerrománico
(Pamplona: Caja de Ahorros de Navarra, 1971), 265–7, with
thanks to Pilar Borrego for this reference. On the Pamplona casket
as the reliquary casket for Nunilo and Alodia, see Julie Harris,
“Muslim Ivories in Christian Hands: The Leire Casket in context,”
Art History 18, no. 2 (June 1995): 213–21.
29. Cristina Partearroyo, “Veil of Hisham II,” in Dodds, Al-Andalus,
225–6 (cat. no. 21).
30. Cristina Partearroyo, “Textile Fragment,” in Dodds, Al-Andalus,
224–5 (cat. no. 20).
31. See, for example, Vestiduras Ricas: El Monasterio de las Huelgas
y su Época 1170–1340, ed. Joaquín Yarza (Madrid: Patrimonio
Nacional, 2005).
32. For the medieval use of textiles to wrap relics, see Anna Muthesius,
“Silks and Saints: The Rider and Peacock Silks from the Relics
of St Cuthbert,” in St Cuthbert, His Cult and His Community
to ad 1200, ed. Gerald Bonner, David W. Rollason, and Clare
Stancliffe (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 1989), 343–7; and
Margaret Goehring, “Textile Contact Relics,” Encyclopedia of
Medieval Pilgrimage (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 740–2.
33. José Luis Senra, “Dos telas islámicas encontradas en el Monasterio
de San Zoilo de Carrión de los Condes,” Goya: Revista de Arte
303 (Nov–Dec 2004): 332–40; idem, “Mio Cid es de Bivar e nos de
los Condes de Carrión: los Banu-Gómez de Carrión a la luz de sus
epitafios,” Quintana 5 (2006): 233–67.
60 Mariam Rosser-Owen
Urraca,” in Art of Medieval Spain, 254–5, cat. no. 118). Torres and
Ortega claim to have found two medieval Egyptian documents that
tell how Muslims brought a sacred cup from the Christian com-
munity in Jerusalem to Cairo, which was later given as a diplomatic
gift to “Ferdinand, emir of Léon.” These documents imply that the
Christian community from which the cups were taken revered them
as the chalice used by Christ at the Last Supper. Whatever we may
think about the validity of this administration, this anecdote speaks
to the trajectory of objects imported from Egypt to Iberia, and
provides another “celebrity” object, subsequently repurposed as an
extra-special diplomatic gift.