Something noticeably absent from this project is biology, the area of my major.  Most people do a project in their major, and there is certainly nothing wrong with that.  I love biology.  However, I do not regret in the least not having to eat, drink, breathe, and generally live biology.  Moderation in all things.

I thank my family, especially my parents, for a lifetime of support, love, and prayers.  Many thanks also to my "family" of friends and loved ones, especially Jeff, Kara, and Kim, for their encouragement and for generally keeping me sane.  A special  thanks to Dr. Daniel Pigg, my advisor and mentor, for his faith in my abilities, his encouragement when I felt hopeless, and his guidance when I felt lost.  To Dr. William Zachry and Dr. Daniel McDonough, as well as Dr. Ernest Blythe, thank you for making University Scholars such a wonderful and enriching experience.  And finally, a word of thanks to my Sponsor, without which none of this would have been possible.
 

Crispus has been taken from me, friends
If a price could be paid for him,
I would freely give up half my years.
My best part has now left me:
Crispus, my fortress, my desire,
My heart and delight.  My mind will now see
That nothing gives pleasure without him.
Badly wasted and feeble, I live on:
More than half of me has passed away.  (Stehling 13)

 This poem appears in a collection made in Northern Africa during the early sixth century CE.  What is this poem about?  Does it express sorrow for a friend who has passed away?  Or is it a lament for a lost lover?  Modern readers would probably say that the expressions of love refer to the latter, citing the author's "desire" for Crispus and how Crispus is referred to as part of himself.  Would a medieval audience read the passage the same way?  From our perspective, there is a vast span of time between the present and the period of European history known as the Middle Ages.  Yet we often forget when looking at history that cultural concepts we take for granted may have had totally different contexts in the past, or may have not even existed.

In order to discuss relationships between men in medieval times, we must first know a little background on what gender and sexuality meant to a person living in that period of history.  To this end, in the first chapter, I have given a general overview of the medieval concepts surrounding gender and sexuality, as well as their implications.  Also, there is some definition and examination of various terminology available to describe medieval male-male relationships.

The second, third, and fourth chapters all focus on the actual analysis of homosocial and homosexual content of late classical and medieval literary texts.  In the second chapter I analyze various poems of the late classical and medieval periods that deal with male love and friendship.  The importance of classical influences is explored.  Also, changing attitudes over the lengthy time-period covered are discussed.  In the third chapter I examine a few same-sex pairs from the late classical and medieval periods.  These include paired saints, paired men in medieval romances, and paired historical figures.  I will examine the various social categories such pairs have been lumped into.  In the fourth and final chapter I examine gender and its relation to homosexuality and heterosexuality in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.  I will also explore the dynamics of relationships between Gawain, Bercilak, and the lady.

 Through these examinations, I hope to point out the uncertainty in defining relationships as homosocial or homosexual in the medieval period.  The gap, the markedly gray area between the two categories, is the space addressed by this paper.

I.  Concepts and Terminology

 Many medieval concepts of gender and sexuality are almost alien to our modern concepts.  The medieval concept of "prostitute," for example, illustrates this difference well.  The basic definition of prostitute was not "a person who has sex for money," but rather it was a term for a woman who had sex with multiple partners, whether for money or not (Karras and Boyd 103-105).  A prostitute was a kind of woman, not a profession that a person could later change.  Once a woman became a prostitute, she was always a prostitute.  "Prostitute" was a label for a fixed orientation in their eyes, much the same as many view sexual orientation today.  It is interesting to note that "prostitute" was not a term used for men, and that even today most people automatically assume that a prostitute is a woman.  This is one of many examples where medieval concepts influence modern thought in subtle ways (Karras and Boyd 103-105).

 From the specific example of "prostitute," it can be seen that some background in medieval concepts of gender and sexuality is required.  Perceptions of a relationship depend largely on cultural ideas about gender and sexuality.  Gender was a somewhat confusing label, as it still is today.  At the same time that biological sex was of utmost importance, it was also of no importance at all.  Medieval concepts of gender were largely borrowed from the classical period, and upheld with patristic interpretations of the first two chapters of Genesis.  The classical model of biological sex was a "one-sex model," meaning that differences between male and female were "of degree, not kind" (Laqueur 25).  Since superficial parallels could be drawn between the two sexes (vagina and penis, ovaries and testes, womb and scrotum), they believed that one was simply the more developed form of the other.  Reproductive anatomy connected, rather than separated, male and female (Laqueur 26).  Because males were believed to possess superior strength and superior reasoning ability, they were considered to be the superior, more perfectly formed, sex. Females were considered to be the inferior, less perfectly formed sex (Bullough 31-32).

This assumption led to some interesting developments in the area of gender.  Sex was a social category, since to be a man or woman was "to hold a social rank, a place in society, to assume a cultural role, not to be organically one or the other of two incommensurable sexes"  (Laqueur 8).  As long as a woman showed no signs of female libido, she could adopt "masculine" actions and even "masculine" dress, and by doing so often gained status in society.  She emulated a male, which was to aspire towards perfection.  For example, Saint Jerome promises that a woman who leaves her husband for a spiritual life "will cease to be a woman and will be called man" (qtd. in Bullough 32).  In rare cases where it was disapproved of, it was analogous to a parent disapproving of a child since, being a woman, she did not "know better."  On the other hand, a man who displayed any "feminine" characteristics, much less one who donned "feminine" clothing, was considered a great threat to society  (Bullough 34-36).  In their eyes, a man who "betrayed" the masculine gender role was choosing imperfection over perfection, and rejecting the "privilege" of being male.  An important point to make here is that a man who took the passive role in anal intercourse was considered to be acting "as a woman," and so such acts, by definition, were offenses not only against "nature" but the social order as well (Karras and Boyd 108-109).

 Engaging in same-sex activities was important in defining gender but not sexual orientation.  Sexual orientation was not a label that existed in medieval Europe.  Everyone was presumed to be capable of being attracted to either sex, but religious taboos placed same-sex desire off limits (Boswell, Christianity 159-161).  Church canonists cautioned confessors to be as vague as possible when questioning penitents about sodomy in order to avoid giving them "ideas" (Brundage 399).   Further difficulty arises from the labels that did exist.  "Sodomite" is one label that was applied to men who engaged in same-sex activities.  However, it did not indicate anything like "homosexual" or even "man attracted to other men."  The term "sodomy" was coined in reference to the Biblical story involving the towns of Sodom and Gomorrah.  In the story, God destroyed the towns because they were inhabited by evil people.  Before destroying the towns, God sent angels to warn the few good people remaining to leave.  Male townspeople came to the house they were staying in and demanded to "know" them.  Many Biblical scholars believed this was a euphemism meaning the townspeople wanted to rape the angels, thus the connection of Sodom with "unnatural" sexual acts (Gen. 18.16-19.29)  "Sodomy," while usually referring to anal intercourse, could also apply to any number of other "unnatural" sex acts that could be engaged in by both same-sex and different-sex partners (Karras and Boyd 106).  "Unnatural" sexual acts were usually considered to be anything other than vaginal intercourse in the "missionary position," but even that was sometimes included if the woman was a nun, relative, wife of a relative, or someone else's wife (Boswell, Christianity 203, 204).  The term "sodomite" is further complicated since by the late Middle Ages it had become popularly used as a charge in association with heretics, witches (Richards 143), Muslims, Jews, and other minorities (Boswell, Christianity 272, 279), as well as political enemies (Richards 144).  So, to a certain extent, its sexual meaning was blurred, and perhaps in some cases, lost.

 The term "relationship" in this paper can be assumed to refer to strong emotional, non-familial relationships.  This paper will examine stories and poetry that deal with such relationships between men.  Some of these relationships are explicitly sexual in nature; others are not.  The question then becomes what is appropriate terminology when discussing such relationships?  There has been considerable debate about which term(s) should be used.  Strict social constructionists believe that these relationships can only be defined by the terms existing during medieval times.  In other words, people can only define thoughts and actions through language.  On the other hand, strict essentialists believe that relationships are basically the same over time, and that we simply coin different terms to describe them.  Again, in other words, people create language that reflects thoughts and actions.

 Both sides of this argument have valid points, and a moderate stance will be taken in this paper.  I do not believe a strict constructionist terminology should be used, since the only medieval term relevant to men who engaged in same-sex activities, "sodomite," is much too vague when discussing same-sex relationships (or same-sex sex for that matter).  Some, such as John Boswell, have argued that in fact there were "gay" persons during the Middle Ages; but here I agree with constructionists that this term is far too steeped in modern connotations.  A third option is "homosexual," a term first used by Karoly Maria Kertbeny in 1869 in two pamphlets that he published anonymously in Berlin (Lauritsen and Thorstad 6).  While a nineteenth-century coinage, it is probably the most accurate term possible when discussing medieval same-sex relationships that clearly included a sexual component.  There is some argument on the part of constructionists that this term should not be used either.  However, I must concur with Paul Halsall when he concludes:

The core issue is did homosexual behavior exist before the modern period as the affective preference we call homosexuality?...Self-conception is surely important in defining a person's sexuality, but we need not be too realist about it:  a thing does not need a name to exist.  Homosexual acts existed and...A working definition is that homosexuality, the desire for at least sexual contact with someone of the same gender, is a perquisite[sic] of a person practicing homosexual acts on a regular basis... (Experience of Homosexuality)

 Unfortunately, much of the medieval same-sex "affectional" literature is not as clear as the terms we would like to apply to them.  It is very rarely known if two people did or did not have sexual relations:  there is a gap in our knowledge.  Many medieval scholars argue that any same-sex relationship that is not clearly homosexual must by default be homosocial (i.e., "friendship").  However, the only indications of same-sex activity are usually found in legal codes, penitentials, and sermons.  These could be as reflective of societal beliefs as modern state ordinances prohibiting oral sex between married couples.  On a more "personal" level, there were many emotional relationships between men (both historical and contemporary) which were publicly celebrated, and even some references to men sleeping in the same bed, but there was little explicitly sexual language.

The medieval perception of what male-male "friendship" meant differs greatly from the general modern perception.  This perception was influenced by classical writings such as Cicero's essay On Friendship, which proclaimed that "Whoever is in possession of a true friend sees the exact counterpart of his own soul...They can scarcely, indeed, be considered in any respect as separate individuals, and wherever the one appears the other is virtually present" (179).  It was also influenced by writings of their own time, such as Aelred of Rievaulx's Spiritual Friendship, which proclaimed that "the word amicus [friend] comes from the word amor [love]...For love is a certain "affection" of the rational soul whereby it seeks and eagerly strives after some object to possess it and...enjoys it with a certain interior sweetness, embraces it, and preserves it" (54-55).  Few modern male-male "friendships" could be said to meet the classical or medieval criteria.  Halsall explains, "...modern heterosexual men can be buddies, but unless drunk they cannot touch each other, or regularly sleep together.  They cannot affirm that an emotional affective relationship with another man is the centrally important relationship in their lives" (Modern Gayness and Medieval Friends).  On the other hand, contemporary "gay" couples include varying amounts of sex, including no sex, in their relationships.  Thus, in a modern context a publicly celebrated, primary emotional relationship between two men is usually understood to fall under the term "gay."  In a medieval context such a relationship was usually understood to fall under the term "friendship."  To apply either term to a medieval relationship is misleading to a modern audience, because both have modern connotations that are incongruent with medieval cultural contexts.  So, to term those relationships as "friendships," would be at least as equally misleading to a modern reader as labeling them "gay" (Modern Gayness and Medieval Friends).

 Sedgwick addresses the problem of whether a relationship can be considered "sexual" or "non-sexual" at all from a different viewpoint.  She couples "homosocial" with "desire," bringing it into the realm of the potentially sexual.  With the phrase "homosocial desire," Sedgwick reveals a continuum between the homosocial and homosexual; the relationship between the meanings of "homosexual" and "homosocial" is different from one culture to another (1-2).  The definition of "friendship" in medieval times is different from its definition in modern times, but both contain some component of the social and the sexual, whether expressed or not.

 From the previous few paragraphs, it can be seen that there is a considerable "grayness" when discussing medieval male-male relationships.  Boundaries between the homosocial and homosexual are far from definite, and the terminology available simply cannot encompass the nuances present in the actual relationships they are attempting to describe.  It is this indefinite area, this "gap," that I will focus on in the following chapters by examining various literary texts of the medieval period.

II.  Poems of Male Love and Friendship

 This chapter will examine a selection of poems dealing with the subjects of male love and friendship.  I have tried to address the poems in a chronological order, though at times this has been broken for the sake of demonstrating contrast.  Almost all of the poems discussed in this chapter were written by bishops, abbots, and monks.  In the Middle Ages, receiving an education and learning to write usually meant entering the church, so it can be seen why most of the writers belonged to the vocationally religious community.  These communities were wholly composed of men who had forsaken the idea of marriage, so these men often would form strong and intimate bonds of friendship.  It was not unusual for men to have affectionate, sometimes classically allusive, nicknames for one another, nor was it unusual for them to write poems to each other (Stehling xvii).   Historical records indicate that at least some of these bonds were expressed sexually.  Saint Benedict's Rule for Monasteries was written in the early sixth century, and by the ninth century, it became the dominant monastic rule in the West.  The Rule requires that monks sleep in separate beds in groups of no less than ten, that the younger be separated by the older, that all be clothed, and that a candle be burning throughout the night (Benedict 193).  These explicit instructions are difficult to explain as anything other than precautions against sexual activities between the brethren.  Also, Cistercians discussed sexual practices between monks as a problem in their monasteries year after year in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries (Stehling xix).

 Another evidence that some of the relationships were sexual might be that some of the poems are clearly erotic.  However, it is easy to misinterpret the cultural significance of some such poems.  First of all, writing love poems to other men was understood to be a conventional topic for poetry.  The medieval poet would have been very familiar with classical authors, who often wrote of their affections for men.  Classical influences show one reason why there is such a blurring of the homosocial and the homosexual during the Middle Ages, and a resulting gap in our ability to classify such relationships.  The reason is that model often placed man-man love under the category of friendship.  However, it was clearly understood that such relationships could be sexual. Another classical influence important to note is the various classical myths that told of the love between men and gods.  One of these myths is that of Ganymede, a Trojan boy who was abducted by Jove, ruler of the gods, and made his cupbearer and concubine.  References to these mythical love stories abound in medieval male love poetry, foremost being the myth of Ganymede.  Another important medieval theme based on classical influences was that of man-boy relationships.  Though the focus of this chapter will be adult relationships, an important point can be gleaned when looking at pederastic models.  The classical purpose was for the man to educate the boy, though such relationships included sex as well.  The medieval poems that reflected this classical tradition often did not reflect classical ideals, frequently representing a man as being more interested in a boy's "beauty and kisses" than in his "education in virtue" (Stehling xix).  The point to be gleaned is that while classical influence was important, it was not usually a simple copying of styles:   individual feelings are also expressed.  Boswell notes that most scholars have found the male love poems to be "personal and sincere" (Christianity 249).

 Having given a little background, I will now turn to the focus of the chapter:  the poems of male love and friendship.  The earliest poems came at the end of the classical era and were the most heavily influenced by classical poets and ideas.  Prime examples of these early poems are those written between Ausonius and Paulinus of Nola, who lived during the fourth century.  Ausonius was a Christian, but not a religious figure, while Paulinus was a bishop.  At the end of a letter, Ausonius pictures Paulinus traveling from Spain to Italy, imagining that when he gets there "He goes past the whole crowd of people come to meet him / And passing by his own door now, now knocks at yours" (Stehling 3).  Wondering if reality will match the dream he says, "Do we believe this or do those who love create dreams for themselves?" (Stehling 3).  Ausonius hopes that Paulinus will rush past the crowd to see him even before going to his own home and family.  If this is truly the depth of their relationship, surely it is a powerful one. Paulinus writes back assuring Ausonius that he will never be far away:

  You and me:  for all time which is given
  And destined to mortal men,
  For as long as I am held in this confining, limping body,
  No matter how far I am separated from you in the world,
  You will be neither distant from me nor far from my eyes:
  I will hold you, intermingled in my very sinews.
  I will see you in my heart and with a loving spirit embrace you;
  You will be with me everywhere.  (Stehling 5)

  And when released from this bodily prison
  I fly from earth
  To the spot in heaven where our universal Father places me,
  There too I will keep you in my spirit;
  Nor will the end which frees me from my body
  Release me from your love.  (Stehling 5)

 Here again is the poem from the introduction:

Crispus has been taken from me, friends
If a price could be paid for him,
I would freely give up half my years.
My best part has now left me:
Crispus, my fortress, my desire,
My heart and delight.  My mind will now see
That nothing gives pleasure without him.
Badly wasted and feeble, I live on:
More than half of me has passed away.  (Stehling 13)

 This confusion becomes even more readily apparent later in the medieval period.  Alcuin, who lived in the late eighth century, was a master at Charlemagne's school at Aachen and also abbot of the monastery at Tours.  While at the court of Charlemagne, he was the head of an intellectual circle of the most brilliant minds of his day.  During the time he lived, classical influence was strong, but Christian influences were becoming more prominent.  Alcuin gave many of his pupils nicknames based on blatantly homoerotic classical literature, and there is evidence he had passionate relationships with other men.  He writes to a bishop:

  Love has penetrated my heart with its flame,
  And is ever rekindled with new warmth.
  Neither sea nor land, hills nor forest, nor even the Alps
  Can stand in its way or hinder it
  From always licking at your inmost parts, good father,
  Or from bathing your heart, my beloved, with tears. (Stehling 15)

 Another example of this balancing act is seen in a poem written by Baudri of Bourgueil, an abbot and archbishop who lived during the late eleventh and early twelfth centuries.  This period produced the largest body of homosexual literature since the first century CE and was not equaled until the nineteenth century (Boswell, Christianity 243).  It also saw a rise in poetry that went beyond classical models and adopted overtly sexual language.  Baudri wrote many blatantly erotic poems such as this one:

  O would that I had been my own messenger
  Or been that letter which your hand softly touched;
  And that you could not recognize me until I wanted you to.
  Then I would have explored your face and spirit as you read,
  That is, if I could have restrained myself long enough.
  The rest we would have left to nature and the gracious gods.
  For God is readier than man to grant indulgence. (Stehling 51)

 However, as time progressed, intolerant attitudes became more dominant.  Yet because of the respect for the classical tradition, it was not uncommon for a poet who was clearly against homosexual desire to write about love between men.  For example, Hildebert of Lavardin, an archbishop who lived in the late eleventh and early twelfth centuries, wrote numerous poems denouncing sexual activities between men:

  Men pay what they owe their spouses to other men.
  Countless Ganymedes tend countless hearths,
  And Juno grieves to have lost the duty she used to claim.
  Both boys and men, pimps and old men defile themselves
  With this vice and no class escapes it.
  All of you who turn nature's honor to this practice
  And neglect licit love for forbidden,
  Shouldn't you remember the lesson of Sodom's example-
  To beware this sin and shun it lest you perish in brimstone? (Stehling 57)

  Spare this boy, gods, if we cannot both die;
  I would rather follow him than survive as a god.
  If you forbid this, let a part of each of us survive while an equal part
  Falls.  In that case I would forgive my being less than a god.
  Each of us would joyfully endure losing part of himself;
  While part goes to the shades, part would go to the gods. (Stehling 61)

 As noted earlier, poems based in the classical tradition are not precluded from reflecting true feelings and actions.  Also, not all poets who wrote poetry with conflicting attitudes about same-sex love can be said to have simply been taking up a common style.  It is fairly obvious that some were truly conflicted over whether homosexual relations were permissible.  There are poems that make this very accusation, saying that many "curse with their words what they wallow in with their deeds" (Stehling 101).  Some, such as Marbod of Rennes, seem to have changed their attitudes as they got older (Stehling 31-39).  Marbod, who lived in the late eleventh and early twelfth centuries, began as a student, then teacher, then master at a cathedral school, and later became a bishop.  Marbod's earliest poem chides a friend to return before he loses his young male lover, probably Marbod himself.  The second clearly praises a boy's beauty and criticizes him for rejecting his male suitors; but this poem's title makes clear that it is in an assumed voice, putting a distance between Marbod and the speaker.  Looking further, the remaining three poems reflect the attitude that "copulation performed by members of a single sex" is "a crime less serious than none" (Stehling 37).  His final poem laments the lecherous actions, both same-sex and different-sex, of his youth, saying "the embraces of both sexes now displease me" (Stehling 39).

 This ambivalence about the subjects of male-male friendship, love, and sex seems to have been dominant up until the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, when attacks on homosexual acts became increasingly severe.  The evolution of poems against homosexual acts is perhaps the most telling about the change in attitudes.  Ennodius, a teacher and bishop who lived in the late fifth and early sixth centuries, wrote such a poem that is indicative of the attitudes at that time:

  Your face is masculine, your gestures feminine, but your thighs are both:
  You resolve an opposition in nature by negating the difference.
  You are a rabbit and trample the neck of a great lion. (Stehling 7)

  Alas!  wickedly public are the fire and heat of sodomites.
  No one suppresses this sin or hides it or sighs that he is sinful.
  Close your eyes to this beastly sin, all of you here;
  Unholy rage rises where someone is aware of it or witness to it. (Stehling    77)

 While the later Middle Ages showed an increasingly negative attitude towards male-male sex, during the early Middle Ages we find poems of male-male love casually intermingled with other kinds of poems without any "disclaimer."  Stehling writes that one can find "a complaint against Fortune, a hymn to the Trinity, a love poem to a young boy, a riddle, and maybe an epitaph for a famous medieval bishop" all together in one manuscript (xxvi).  One reason may have been, as mentioned earlier, that early medieval readers, leaning more towards the classical tradition, may simply have not cared.  Later in the Middle Ages, religious figures may have been able to "get away" with writing such poetry simply because they were religious figures.  This may have placed them in a position where they were not suspected of acting out the feelings and deeds they wrote about.  They could hide behind a popular style of poetry.  It is interesting, then, to note that as attacks on male-male sex became increasingly virulent, the poems on male-male love became increasingly rare.  It could be deduced from the increasing rarity of such poetry, along with what I have previously discussed, that a connection was indeed seen between love between men and sex between men; at some level there was an awareness of the connection between the homosocial and the homosexual.  This is not to say that all poems of love between men were reflective of a relationship that was sexual in nature.  Clearly, many of the poems may be reflective of nothing more than strong friendships, and others could simply be imitations of the classical tradition.  But it can be seen that these poems are excellent examples of the blurring of the homosexual and the homosocial.

III.  Same-Sex Pairs

 During the late Roman and medieval periods we find several factual and fictional examples of men who are seen as pairs.  There are examples of paired saints, paired men in medieval romances, and paired historical figures.  The relationships between the men were publicly recognized, and often celebrated.  The men involved in such pairings have been variably characterized as "friends," "brothers," and "lovers."  There is generally an ambiguity as to which of these categories the pairs fall into, or even what these categories mean.  The pairs threaten to fall into the undefined gap between the homosocial and homosexual.  I will examine the validity of the various viewpoints and work towards discovering the nature of the private relationships behind the public pairings.

One group of pairs is the paired saints, including Perpetua and Felicitas, Polyeuct and Nearchos, and Serge and Bacchus.  All the paired saints benefited from an idealization of masculine friendship and the underlying idea that masculinity was perfection.  Perpetua and Felicitas reflect this idea because, though female, Perpetua became male in her vision, and after martyrdom they were called the "most manly" of "soldiers"  (Boswell, Same-Sex Unions 141).  The masculinization of these women echoes the words of Saint Jerome about a spiritual woman "becoming" a man, as noted in Chapter One.  The male pairs of saints were often "hypermasculine," being not only part of an idealized friendship, but often having a military connection.  For example, Polyeuct and Nearchos were Roman soldiers, and Serge and Bacchus were high officials in an emperor's army (Boswell, Same-Sex Unions 156).  This hypermasculinization, along with being martyrs for the Christian faith, may have been influential in "protecting" the pairs from any accusations of "gender transgression" associated with homosexual relations.  Serge and Bacchus are the most famous of the paired saints, so I will focus on them.

Their story is told in a saint's life that reports the "historical" events leading to their martyrdom.  The earliest known version of their story was written in the late fourth century, and the events are thought to have occurred at the beginning of the fourth century.  The saints were thrown into jail by their emperor because they refused to worship pagan gods.  He then sent them to one of his governors, who had earlier been appointed at Serge's request.  The governor flogged Bacchus until he died.  That night Bacchus came to Serge in a vision and encouraged him to be strong in his faith.  After a couple of days of torture, the governor had Serge beheaded (Boswell, Same-Sex Unions 375-390).

The special bond between Serge and Bacchus is talked of or alluded to in several passages of the earliest saint's life.  Throughout the text the saints speak together "as with one mouth." At the very beginning of the story we are told that they were "as one in their love for Christ, they were also undivided from each other in the army of the world, united not by the way of nature, but in the manner of faith, always singing and saying, 'Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity!" (Boswell, Same-Sex Unions 376).  This passage would seem to place their relationship under the realm of "spiritual brotherhood"; however, similar language was used to describe heterosexual marriage.  For example, one monk described marriage as "a union of two believers, of a single hope, a single prayer, a single discipline, a single service!  Brother and sister, both servants, with no distinction of spirit or flesh...  They sing together psalms and hymns..."  (Boswell, Same-Sex Unions 132-133).  The idea of a union, of being a single voice, of being brethren ("brother and sister" actually is translated literally as "both brothers"), and even of singing together are common to both passages.  "Brother" and "sister" were ambiguous in regard to erotic content of a relationship in a medieval context.  The above passage on marriage reflects the fact that "brother" was not only a term for a familial relative or non-familial friend or ally, but also a term of endearment for a spouse or lover (Boswell, Same-Sex Unions 20, 22, 130).  A parallel can be drawn from "brother" to the modern term "partner," which could mean a business associate, an ally, or a term for a spouse or lover.  This uncertainty in definition contributes to the gap.

There is more possible information about their relationship in a couple of ambiguous passages later in the story.  For example, as part of their punishment, the emperor had the saints dressed in women's clothing and has them paraded through the streets.  This was meant to demean them, though not because they were a pair, but because it demasculinized them.  The saints were not dissuaded.  They said to Christ, "...as brides you have decked us with women's gowns and joined us together for you [or: "joined us to you"] through our confession" (Boswell, Same-Sex Unions 379).  Either translation is possible, though Boswell points out "joined us to you" would be inconsistent with the author's style (Boswell, Same-Sex Unions 379).  On the other hand, the imagery of believers as brides of Christ is a common Christian allusion, making it a likely translation.  If "joined us together for you" is the intended translation, this is a clear implication of a type of marriage bond between the saints.  Another ambiguous passage states that "some of their household servants" followed them as they were taken to the governor.  "Their" is ambiguous in Greek, just as it is in English, about whether Serge and Bacchus had one household or two (Boswell, Same-Sex Unions 151).  Considering that the two were high officials, they must have been wealthy.  So, having economic reason to live together, one household would tend to suggest a strong bond, whether sexual or not.  The strongest evidence is found in Serge's vision of Bacchus.  Serge cried out to Bacchus, "You have been unyoked from me and gone up to heaven, leaving me alone on earth, bereft, without comfort" (Boswell, Same-Sex Unions 385).  The idea of being "yoked" to another individual definitely has marital allusions in the Christian tradition (2 Cor. 6.14).  Beyond that the word translated "bereft" literally means "made single."  But perhaps the most telling is what Bacchus replied:

Why do your grieve and mourn, brother?  If I have been taken from you in body, I am still with you in the bond of union... Hurry then, yourself, brother, through beautiful and perfect confession to pursue and obtain me, when finishing the course.  For the crown of justice for me is with you.
   (385)

The medieval romance often contains same-sex pairings.  The romance I will examine is Amis e Amilun, which was written in France during the twelfth century. The ambiguity in the story begins with the names of the heroes.  "Amis" and "Amilun" are both derived from ami, a word they use to address each other, which means both "friend" and "lover" (Weiss 163).  It seems likely that the author was aware of the ambiguity and took advantage of it, giving no cues to its context when referring to the pair.  Amis and Amilun are two knights who "loved each other so dearly that they swore to be brothers" (Weiss 159).  There is a pattern similar to that of the paired saints.  They call each other "brother," they are part of an idealized masculine friendship, and they are connected with the military as officers in the court of the same lord.  They had a love for one another that was "great and true" (Weiss 177).  The beginning of the story relates that Amilun's father died, and he was forced to leave to take care of his own lands.  When he left, "they embraced, and wept for sorrow.  No man on earth, had he been there, would not have pitied their grief.  They fell fainting to the ground" (Weiss 161).  Their relationship is referred to as friendship a few times, but it is peculiar because they had a "friendship" only with each other.  After Amilun left to rule his own lands, another officer of the court, the seneschal, offered his "friendship" to Amis.  Amis rejected him, saying, "[Amilun] has entirely surrendered his heart to me, and I love him, now and in future, and won't desert him for another" (Weiss 161).

Both Amis and Amilun marry women in the romance.  However, their marriages  make it all the more apparent that the primary emotional relationship in their lives is with each other.  Their love is presented within a culture which required use of women in social contracts and continuation of family name, but this was not seen as "opposing, denying, or detracting" from their bond (Sedgewick 35).  Amilun, when he arrived at his father's lands, was "advised" to take a wife.  Though she was "prized for her beauty over every other woman in the land," nothing is spoken of any love for her, and the marriage is characterized as a way to gain more land (Weiss 162).  This would not make it an unusual medieval marriage, since they were often politically motivated.  Later in the story, when Amilun became a leper, it became apparent where the lasting emotional bonds were.  Amilun's wife disowned him, while in contrast Amis took him in.

Amis was pursued by the lord's daughter.  The daughter was also known for her beauty, yet when she confessed her love to Amis, "he thought she was out of her mind" (Weiss 163).  Seeing he was in "distress," she became enraged and threatened to tell her father Amis had wronged her, and fearing her father's anger he pledged to be her "friend" (Weiss 163).  Knowing she wanted more than friendship, he tried to dissuade her from "bodily shame" or from taking him as her "lover," but finally gave in to her desires (Weiss 164).  It is not clear whether Amis is reluctant to consummate the relationship because of fear that the lord would find out, lack of interest, or a combination of both.

The most powerful passage comes much later, when Amilun was stricken with leprosy.  It was revealed to Amis in a dream that the only way to cure Amilun was to kill his own children and bath him in their blood.  He "had no pity" and killed them without remorse, feeling "nothing but rejoicing" (Weiss 175-176).  He did fear his wife would be grieved, but instead she replied, "If you had lost Amilun you would never have another like him.  Let us think no more of the children; God willing, we shall have some more!"  (Weiss 176).  This is surely a powerful statement, since they were willing to sacrifice their heirs for a "friendship."  This seems ghastly to a modern audience, but this made more sense to a medieval audience that had a medieval view of children.  As marriage to women was seen first as a way to gain land or have heirs, children were seen first as being heirs and allies.  Though it is unknown whether Amis and Amilun's relationship was meant to be a friendship or something more, given the choice between institution and relationship, the relationship was chosen.

Historical figures have also been paired.  Edward II and Piers Gaveston are known to many people with only a minimal knowledge of medieval history. As before, the men were prominent leaders, English nobility in the early fourteenth century.  Piers was exiled by Edward I, but Edward II's first act as king of England was to recall Piers.  Soon thereafter he was given the earldom of Cornwall, making him a powerful figure and a major landowner.  Both were married, though Gaveston's marriage to a niece of the king was clearly to help secure his position in the English aristocracy, and Edward was expected to marry in order to produce heirs to the throne (Hamilton 38).  Other earls resented Gaveston's using his status as "favorite" to control dispensation of the king's favors.  When Edward went to France to be married, he left Gaveston as regent in his stead.  Though he was cautious and did not abuse the royal power, it was a visible reminder of his invisible control.

When the king returned from France he is reported to have "run to Piers among them; giving him kisses and repeated embraces, he was adored with a singular familiarity" (Hamilton 47).  At Edward's coronation, Gaveston bore his crown in the procession.  At the banquet following the coronation, some attendees were apparently so disgusted by Edward's preference for Piers's couch rather than his new wife Isabella's that they left.  Eventually the earls demanded Gaveston's exile, and though Edward was adamantly determined not to do so, he was eventually forced to consent.  Gaveston later returned to England, but finally was beheaded by Edward's enemies.

What was the nature of their relationship?  J.S. Hamilton, a historian who has done extensive research on Piers Gaveston, says, "That the two men were lovers is beyond dispute" (109).  Indeed, contemporary chronicles, such as the Vita Edwardi Secundi, Annales Paulini, and Flores Historiarum call Edward's love for Piers "immoderate" or "excessive," alluding to the medieval idea that homosexual acts were because of excessive desire (Chaplais 7).  Later chronicles such as the Chronica Monasterii de Melsa make many blatant remarks that their relationship was sexual in nature.  However, despite Hamilton's claim, the nature of their relationship is currently disputed.  Pierre Chaplais makes the argument that the two were not lovers, but "adoptive brothers."  However, he starts the argument with a convoluted mindset.  He asks of their relationship, "Was it one of the rare great friendships in history, similar to that which existed between David and Jonathan, Achilles and Patroclus, Roland and Oliver, and other well-known heroes?  Or was it of a homosexual nature, or a mixture of the two?" (5).  As I am attempting to show, ancient and medieval friendships do not preclude a homosexual relationship.  While Chaplais does acknowledge that there can be a mixture, the very archetypes of "great friendship" he cites in an attempt to separate the homosocial and homosexual are seen by many scholars as homosexual in nature.  Also, much of his argument is based on Edward referring to Gaveston as "brother."  I have already shown that "brother" was a term of affection.  In fact, the Annales Paulinus makes the point that Edward's "excessive love" for Piers was the reason he called him brother (Chaplais 11).

Despite the somewhat flawed evidence in his book on Edward II and Piers Gaveston, Chaplais makes a point relevant to all of these same-sex pairs: "no conclusive proof will ever be found which will enable us to answer these questions positively" (5).  It can certainly be said that all of the pairs examined had strong emotional attachments to one another.  That is perhaps all that can be said with certainty.  Amis and Amilun are perhaps the most indefinite pair, but they certainly placed their relationship above all others, including marriage and family.  Most medieval historians agree that Piers Gaveston and Edward II were homosexual lovers, but even this general agreement is not universal.  Chaplais has argued for an "adoptive brotherhood," and though parts of his argument are flawed, the claim cannot be discounted entirely.  In the most common version of the lives of Serge and Bacchus, which was written in the tenth century, Serge is called the "sweet companion and lover" of Bacchus (Boswell, Same-Sex Unions 154).  Though this does not necessarily lend evidence of what the saints' actual relationship was, it does give evidence that medieval readers viewed them as an erotic same-sex couple.  They may have been lovers, "spiritual brothers," or both.  The lack of certainty about the nature of these pairs, often stemming from the vague nature of the terms used to describe the relationships, makes it difficult to place any of these same-sex pairs into definite categories.  Lacking appearance of additional evidence, which is unlikely, such pairs will probably remain in "friend-brother-lover" limbo, a gap caused by the indefinite relationship between the homosocial and homosexual.

IV.  Triangle of Desire in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

 From the previous chapter, we can see the importance of recognizing the many possible ways of understanding same-sex pairs.  Similarly, when looking at Sir Gawain and the Green Knight it is important to recognize the multiple meanings of relationships and symbols.  Intentional use of multiple meanings is a traditional element of poetry of the middle to late fourteenth century.  This "multidimensionality" is often not resolved, but remains purposefully indefinite.  For example, the color "green" would have been associated by the aristocratic audience with at least four concepts:  regeneration and renewal; a supernatural, often evil creature; hope; and inconstancy, especially in love (Bergner 402).  At times, concepts that are not just diverse but actually set in opposition to one another are associated.  For example, the Green Knight brings a holly bob and an ax to Arthur's court, symbolizing both peace and war, and both jest and earnest (Bergner 404).  Two seemingly opposing extremes are brought together, in spite of themselves, to show the duality of the Green Knight's purpose.  Another set of concepts which appear to be extremes, heterosexuality and homosexuality, are similarly brought together in the poem through the homosocial.  A triangle of desire is formed by the heterosexual relationships of Gawain to the lady and Bercilak to the lady, and by the homosocial (and potentially homosexual) relationship of Gawain to Bercilak.

 In Fit 1 of the poem, the Green Knight comes to Arthur's court during the Christmas season to challenge a knight to a so-called "Christmas game" which is to exchange blows of an ax.  Sir Gawain is the only one brave enough to accept, and to chop off the Green Knight's head.  However, the beheaded knight supernaturally survives and tells Gawain to meet him in a year to receive his blow.  Sir Gawain searches for the Green Knight in Fit 2.  Instead, he finds a castle whose lord, Bercilak, welcomes him warmly and asks him to rest there.  In Fit 3, the focus of my analysis, they agree that whatever each receives during the course of a day will be given to the other, and this agreement continues for three days.  Each day Bercilak goes out on a hunt, and Gawain as well is involved in a sort of hunt:  the lady of the castle tries to seduce him while her husband is away.  She persuades him only to accept a kiss on the first day, two kisses on the second day, and three kisses and a love token girdle on the third day.  At the end of each day, Bercilak presents the prizes of his hunts to Gawain.  Gawain, in turn, presents each kiss he has received to Bercilak, though he refuses to reveal from whom he received them.  However, he does not give up the love token, which the lady claims will protect him from harm.  In Fit 4, Gawain finally finds the Green Knight, and receives his blow, a small scratch.  The Green Knight then reveals he is in fact Bercilak, and that he gave Gawain the scratch for not fulfilling his bargain by keeping the girdle.

In establishing heterosexuality with the kisses in Fit 3, the poem introduces the possibility of homosexuality.  Certainly kisses between men were common, such as when Arthur and the court kiss Gawain goodbye when he sets out on his journey:

  Then he comes to the king and his comrades-in-arms,
  Takes his leave at last of lords and ladies,
And they clasped and kissed him, commending him to Christ. (Borroff 594-596)

So good a knight as Gawain is given out to be,
And the model of fair demeanor and manners pure,
Had he lain so long at a lady's side,
Would have claimed a kiss, by his courtesy (Borroff 1297-1300)

The disintegration of Gawain's chivalric and gender identities is metaphorically represented by the hacking apart of the animals killed in Bercilak's hunts (Dinshaw 213-214).  His gender identity is no longer united with his anatomical sex; it has split from it.  Such a "gender transgression" comes perilously close to medieval ideas surrounding homosexual acts.  As noted in chapter one, the passive partner in male homosexual acts is seen as betraying his gender.  The author of the poem is likely to have seen the connection, especially when one considers the logical outcome if Gawain had fully yielded to the lady's desires and had honored the terms of his agreement:  he would have had to have sex with Bercilak.

Additionally, at the end of the poem we learn that the whole seduction was Bercilak's idea.  If he sexually desired the knight, he may have been hoping Gawain would succumb (Dinshaw 215).  He is already suspect because he is lord of a court which represents Other, those outside of the norm, in contrast to the normative court of King Arthur.  He is further suspect if we read the Green Knight's beheading as a symbolic castration, since Bercilak's masculine, and thus heterosexual, identity then becomes questionable.  Gawain seeks to avoid being beheaded by accepting the lady's love token, which she promises will magically protect him:

 Then the man began to muse, and mainly he thought
 It was a pearl for his plight, and peril to come
 When he gains the Green Chapel to get his reward:
 Could he escape unscathed, the scheme were noble!  (Borroff 1855-1858)

Bercilak's goal may not have been to have sex with Gawain, but his desire may have been to bond with Gawain through his wife.  As mentioned in the first chapter, this is what Sedgewick calls "homosocial desire" (21).  Bercilak admires Gawain and wants a connection to him, and this is accomplished through his wife.  He is using his wife as property whose primary purpose is to cement a joining of the two men.  We can see that when Gawain gives kisses to Bercilak that he received from the lady, that this could be a metaphorical representation of the double bond Bercilak is seeking.  As Gawain bonds with the lady, so he bonds with Bercilak.  While the primary interaction is between Gawain and the lady, the bond between Gawain and Bercilak could prove to be the more important in a world of male power.

Hints of same-sex desire, both homosexual and homosocial, can be seen throughout the poem.  At the time Sir Gawain was written, strict laws against homosexual acts were in full force, so it is perhaps surprising that even these hints were included.  In fact, the author of this poem also wrote Cleanness, which included strong condemnation of homosexual acts.  Considering these facts, it is a bit strange that rather than standing in stark opposition to heterosexuality, such desires are part of an unspoken structure of sexuality and gender in Sir Gawain.  While patriarchal heterosexuality is the norm in this structure, same-sex desire plays an integral part in defining the norm's boundaries.

Conclusion

 Medieval ideas of gender and sexuality, the cultural basis that relationships were built upon, are much different from our modern concepts.  Realizing these differences, it is still difficult for us to approach medieval relationships without assigning our modern concepts to them.  To a certain extent it may be valid to assign more modern ideas to medieval relationships, but in many cases it is not.  This paper has dealt specifically with non-familial male-male relationships, which include homosocial relationships and homosexual relationships.  However, upon examining literary texts from the period, it is often hard to determine just which of these categories a relationship fits.  There is a gap in our knowledge of the nature of these relationships.

 These indefinite relationships show up in poetry, romances, and historical documents.  Love poetry between men was a fairly common topic, especially during the early Middle Ages.  The authors were often religious figures such as monks and bishops: men in wholly male communities and who were not unknown to be involved in homosexual activities.  We have little to no evidence of which love relationships may or may not have been sexual, but we do know that such relationships included strong emotional bonds.

 There are several examples of men who were seen as pairs.  Paired saints such as Serge and Bacchus are at times portrayed as having an extreme form of love for one another.  Men in medieval romances, such as Amis and Amilun, are willing to sacrifice everything for their relationship.  Numerous chroniclers have recorded the love between historical figures such as Edward II and Piers Gaveston.  Nothing short of threats of civil war separated the king and his "favorite."  There is no definite proof of a sexual relationship in any of these three examples, but categories such as friendship fail to describe these relationships adequately.

In Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, there is no strong emotional relationship between men.  However, there is a triangle of desire, a creating of homosocial bonds through heterosexual relationships.  Homosocial desires, and perhaps unspoken homosexual desires, are part of the structure of heterosexuality in the poem.
So, this poem demonstrates the interrelation of the homosocial and the homosexual as well.

 Given these examples, a definite gap exists in attempting to define relationships as homosexual and homosocial.  In the future, perhaps evidence will be found that will help to further clarify and define relationships in this area.  Already some scholars are attempting to form new terminology to deal with this gray zone.  Until such terminology is agreed upon, we must exercise caution when passing judgement on the nature of these historical relationships.

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