Welcome to Noble Blood, a production of iHeartRadio and Grimm and Mild from airin Manky listener discretion advised Heinrich the sixth, the eighteen year old King of Germany and son of Holy Roman Emperor Frederic the f Barbosa, sat by a window next to Conrad of Wittelsbach, the Archbishop of Mainz. It was the evening of July twenty fifth, eleven eighty four, and the air between the two men was tense. By this point, Heinrich and the archbishop had run out of
things to say to one another. Earlier, when they had first sat down, the conversation had flowed freely. Heinrich had come to air Fort to broker an agreement between the archbishop and the Landgrave Ludwig the third of Thuringia. The two of them had some heated disputes over land right in air Fort, but by all accounts, each had come to the negotiations willingly and with high hopes for a
quick resolution. Heinrich, the King of Germany, had assembled a Hoftag, an unofficial meeting attended by his court as well as the local nobility and clergy, to settle the matter once and for all.
But by this.
Point, however, Heinrich and the Archbishop were not talking about land, titles or anything at all. The meeting had long since crumbled, so too, quite literally had the building around them, save for the window alcove where the two men had been sitting. Now, Heinrich and the Archbishop awaited rescue in horrified silence, holding on for dear life after being forced to watch as their fellow nobles floundered and drowned below them in a
roiling pit of mud, debris, and human waste. I'm Dana Schwartz, and this is noble blood. The air Fort Latrine disaster, as it would come to be called, is remembered as one of medieval history's most disgusting calamities. It was what it sounds like, a building collapsed into its underground latrine cesspot killing, injuring, or traumatizing the attendees of Heinrich the si Hulftug. Its effects, both on the lines of noble succession and on local folklore, would ripple out for generations.
In order to understand how this tragic and nauseating accident occurred, we must first understand one of the most significant architectural challenges facing any media city that of dealing with human waste. Many people believe that the Middle Ages were a sort
of free for all of waste disposal. While it was certainly true that many medieval people had to dispose of their waste by say, pouring it out of their windows or into the streets, in many places that was actually illegal and could carry heavy fines.
As a matter of fact.
Medieval people, and in particular medieval municipal authorities, devoted a great deal of attention to waste management. People in the Middle Ages dealt with their waste in a number of different ways.
The way you might be.
Most familiar with is the chamber pot or other kinds of portable toilets, But those, of course would have left you with the problem of then disposing of the waste from the chamber pots. Luckily, at least in some places, there was another option, a latrine. In this period, a latrine would have consisted, usually of a plank of wood over a hole in the ground or in the floor of a building, usually some sort of outhouse, which would let out into something such as a cesspit, a stream,
a ditch, a moat, or a drain. Cesspits were often feats of engineering. While they were sometimes just big holes in the ground, many of them were reinforced with wood or less often stone to prevent groundwater pollution. One latrine would often be shared by all of the inhabitants of a given plot of land, although larger multihole latrines were sometimes used in monasteries, and some cities, like London even had public necessary houses with multiple latrine holes that opened
up into a single cesspit. As you might expect, wealthier people tended to have more elaborately constructed latrines. This applied to the above ground parts as well, most notably with the construction of latrines inside the home. If you've ever visited an old castle, for example, you might have seen a little part jutting out from the wall on the outside that's called a garterobe, and it was basically a medieval toilet. Named after storage closets where valuables or linens
would be kept. These would be small chambers that offered the user some privacy. Sometimes these would open up directly to the outside, emptying into a moat or some other drainage system, but often they were connected to a latrine that led out into a cesspit. These systems could be impressive, but of course they were not without their challenges. A
cesspit needed proper drainage. Drainage issue could result in things like contaminated groundwater, but also, and perhaps more urgently, damage to the structure of the latrine and any overlying buildings themselves. Rotting was a major concern for latrines reinforced with wood. Often, cesspits were emptied by hand on an annual or semi annual basis, or otherwise, the waste continually boarded up until a new latrine had to be opened, but some cesspits
had more advanced systems of drainage. One solution for the drainage problem was the installation of channel drains, which utilized gravity to let waste out from the cesspit into, say,
a flowing river. These could work marvelously well, but like modern plumbing systems, they were also susceptible to clogs or structural damage, and, as the attendees of that fateful hoftag in air Fort would find out, when channel drain systems failed to work properly, wooden boards began to rot and nobody took steps to remedy the.
Issue, disaster would ensue.
Twelfth century Germany consisted of a constellation of duchies, counties, and principalities, all loosely aligned under the authority of the Holy Roman Empire, with each duke, count and prince largely sovereign over his own territory. Political life was often tense, as ruling nobles constantly sought to increase their power. Borders frequently expanded and contracted as wars, shifting alliances, and political machinations saw land pass back and forth between nobles. Of course,
these were rarely clean or easy transfers of jurisdiction. It wasn't uncommon for two or more parties to claim sovereignty over the same piece of land at the same time. This was the case for Ludwig the Third, the Landgrave, a German rank of nobility roughly equivalent to account of Thuringia, and the Archbishop of Mainz Conrad of Wittelsbach. Keep in mind that during this period, high ranking clergy like bishops, archbishops and cardinals often exercised political as well as religious
power in their respective domains. In this case, Conrad was both the archbishop and the Elector of Mainz, a title akin to prince, meaning he both oversaw his own territory and got to play a role in electing the Holy Roman Emperor. The territories of Ludwig's county and Conrad's archbishopric abutted each other. In fact, they sort of overlapped, with each man claiming his land to be perhaps slightly larger
than it was. Their territories had not always been quite so disputed, but around eleven seventy nine, the Duke of Saxony and Bavaria, Heinrich the Lion, was stripped of his holdings by the Holy Roman Emperor, Frederick the I Barbosa.
This created a power.
Vacuum that resulted in an even more tenuous, contested web of territories than had existed before. By eleven eighty four, five years later, Ludwig and the archbishop had developed a land dispute over the city of air Fort that had become so heated it drew the attention of the Holy Roman Emperor. But we don't know much of the details
of how oh this contentious situation developed. Specifically, Some sources point to the archbishop's construction of a fortified castle in or near the city around eleven eighty, but it's unclear whether that was in fact the inciting incident or simply a move made as part of a pre existing conflict. In any case, the dispute boiled down to an argument over whether the clergy or the lay nobility should have
control over air Fort. This was a pressing issue that touched not only on the daily lives of the people living in the city, but also on bigger debates over the rights of religious versus secular powers that had overtaken Europe in the wake of the Investiture controversy and the wars of the Guelphs and Ghibelin that followed. After some four years of conflict over this land, the Holy Roman Emperor had had enough. He sent his son Heinrich the sixth,
the King of Germany, to mediate the matter. In the summer of eleven eighty four, Heinrich traveled to Airport and called a hoftag on July twenty fifth, where he would
mediate a piece between Ludwig and the archbishop. The meeting drew an audience of nobles and high ranking clergy from all around the area, each of whom sought both to help mediate the meeting and possibly to act in their best interests sources disagree over whether the Hoftag was held at the cathedral, provosts building or the bishop's residence, but we do know that it was nearby the air Fort's cathedral, and that the meeting took place on the second floor
of whatever building it was in. Over sixty people some sources say over one hundred crowded the meeting room as the proceedings began. We know little about how the meeting went. It's possible the nobles shouted over each other, jocking to get a word in. Maybe it was a friendly gathering, with everyone acting in good faith, trying to maintain peace and reach a resolution. Maybe it was only getting started and clergy and nobles were still asking after each other's
families and children. We do know that at one point King Heinrich and the archbishop walked over to a window to speak privately. Then all of a sudden, a rumble tore through the building. The walls began to shake, and before the meeting's attendees even realized what was happening, the floor collapsed beneath them. In his book of German Legends, the nineteenth century German folklorist Ludwig Bechstein recounted the story of quote the Count's proverb. His story centered on a
noble Count Heinrich, the seventh of Schwarzburg. As Bechstein told it, Count Heinrich had a nasty habit. Whenever there was something he didn't want to do or didn't think he could do, he would say, in a huff, quote, if I did that, I'd have to drown.
In the privy.
You can probably see where this story is going. Bechstein's tale was a fictionalized account of the air Fort Latrine disaster, which did actually happen. He altered some of the historical details. It was Count Heinrich the first who attended, for example, not the seventh, but the basic contours of the story remained, with an ironic twist in the form of his Heinrich's tragically prescient catchphrase in both the story and real life.
The second floor of the building collapsed, the force of which collapsed the first floor, and everyone save for King Heinrich and Archbishop Conrad, fell into the cesspit below. A few survived the fall, but most did not. In reality, we have very few contemporary sources about the actual collapse, and what we do have doesn't offer much. In the
way of details on how the collapse happened. Later writers supposed that the beams supporting the second floor where the hoftag were held, had been rotting for some time, and the weight of so many people caused it to collapse. Because we don't know which building this was exactly, it's hard for us to know whether a latrine contributed to that rotting. If that were the case, it would have had to have been a wood reinforced latrine that reached
the second floor. It's also possible that the color collapse was unrelated and the cesspit was simply an unfortunate landing place for the collapsing building. Either way, the cesspit and its draining system seems to have played an essential role in the tragic way the disaster played out. Some sources say that the building's cesspit had a channel drain system which would have emptied out into the nearby Gera River.
This would have meant that when everything collapsed, the sudden inflow of materials and bodies would have forced the entire system to flow wildly and uncontrollably out to the river. The result was a whirling pit of death. Most estimates say about sixty of the meeting's attendees died as a.
Result of the collapse.
Some died from the fall, others were crushed by debris, and others were I'm sorry, drowned in the sewage or asphyxiated in its toxic fumes. The Chronicle of Saint Peter's in Airport, which began to be compiled about twenty five years after the fact in twelve eight, listed some of
the noblemen who died in the collapse. Count Friedrich the first of Aubenberg, Count Heinrich, the first of Schwarzburg, Count Gozmar the third of ziegenhein Gozmar's brother in law, Bougrave Friedrich the first of Kirsberg, Count Berkhard of Vartberg, and Barringer von Wellington, among other quote lesser nobles whom the
chronicler felt were not necessary to record. Landgrave Ludwig, one of the main two parties involved in the dispute that was a reason for all of this, fell into the sewage, but luckily was rescued and survived seemingly with no major injuries. King Heinrich and the Archbishop had to cling to the window as they awaited rescue, but they also eventually escaped unharmed. Disgusted and shell shocked, King Heinrich departed from air Fort
with his retinue almost immediately, never to return. In addition to its relatively quick entrance into the annals of local folklore, the air Fort latrine disaster impacted the lines of succession of much of the local nobility, as estates passed to sons, brothers, and even daughters of the deceased. As for the dispute between Landgrave Ludwig and Archbishop Conrad that remains unsolved.
To this day.
That's the very gross story of the Airport latrine disaster. But keep listening after a brief sponsor break to hear about another interesting thing that happened in a pit in air Fort. If I had a gold ingot for every time something noteworthy happened in a pit in air Fort,
well i'd have two gold ingots. Actually, in fact, in nineteen ninety eight, archaeologists excavated fourteen gold ingots, among other treasures, hidden in the wall of a medieval cellar entry under the Michael Estrass, a small street in Airport where the structure of a medieval synagogue had been discovered during excavations
a few years prior. It was an extraordinary discovery. In addition to the gold ingots, there were over three thousand Tornassel silver coins, a kind of coin commonly used in the Middle Ages and early modern periods, instituting the largest extant collection of these kind of coins in the world. There were also seven hundred works of goldsmithing dating to
the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. There was silver tableware, gilded goblets from the early fourteenth century, garment applicats and belt adornments, eight brooches with inlaid stones, and eight rings. The most magnificent of the rings, and the most telling about the cash and its history, was an Ashkenazi Jewish wedding ring, one of the very few to survive from the fourteenth century and one of the very few to be found
in Germany. The ring was struck in gold without any stones, as was tradition, and featured an intricate engraving of a Gothic tower and above it the Hebrew phrase mazeltov, meaning good fate or good fortune, a phrase of congratulations traditionally offered at significant life events like weddings. It is this ring which seems to have allowed scholars to figure out where this mass of treasure came from and begin to
guess at who might have hidden it. In thirteen forty nine, as the Black Death tore throughout Europe, many communities found a convenient scapegoat in Jewish people, blaming them for causing the pandemic or believing that they facilitated its spread. There are many reasons why these theories developed, but the most significant impact was the widespread murders and exiles of European Jewish communities. In March thirteen forty nine, the city of air Fort did just that in what came to be
known as the air Fort Massacre. Between March twenty first and twenty second, mob's life lynched anywhere from one hundred to three thousand Jewish people throughout the city. As the violence erupted, many members of the Jewish community chose to set fire to their homes and possessions, choosing death over the violence of the mob. Others chose to hide their possessions, potentially hoping that perhaps they could escape and come back
for them later. It is believed that one of them, potentially a money changer or merchant named Kalmen via Hid his treasure before he was killed, either hoping that he would survive the mob and be able to retrieve it, or knowing that his murderers would not be able to profit from his death. Following the massacre, the remaining members of the Jewish community were exiled from the city. They would return a few years later and re establish a new community in the city before being exiled again in
fourteen fifty eight eight. The hidden treasure, however, remained in airport, untouched and intact for over six hundred years. Today, it remains on permanent display at the restored old Synagogue, just steps from where it was found. Noble Blood is a production of iHeart Radio and Grim and Mild from Aaron Mankey. Noble Blood is hosted by me Dana Schwartz, with additional writing and research by Hannah Johnston, Hannaswick, Courtney Sender, Amy
Hit and Julia Milaney. The show is edited and produced by Jesse Funk, with supervising producerrima il KLi and executive producers Aaron Mankey, Trevor Young, and Matt Frederick. For more podcasts from iHeartRadio, visit the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen to your favorite shows,