Divorce By Combat

Let’s travel back in time, shall we? Imagine yourself in an open town square of the 15th-century Trier, Germany. The town square is full of people, clamoring in anticipation. You are about to watch a marital combat, a duel between a husband and wife.

The duel is public, and at the time - one of the few forms of what we would call today "live entertainment." All townsfolk gathered to witness a highly ritualized divine intervention, including children, which makes you ponder about how age-appropriate this ritual is.

What are their parents thinking? Oh, wait, the parents are right here, keeping their children close to themselves.

The Magistrate presides, clerics observe, and two squires assist. After the herald blown his horn trumpet to attract everyone's attention, the Magistrate starts the ritual by reading out the accusation and petition for combat:

Let it be known that the man, Heinrich Bauer, accuses his wife, Greta Bauer, of adultery and of causing him dishonor, for which he seeks justice before God and the court. Greta Bauer denies the charge and challenges her husband, accusing him of adultery first. Both presented proof and witnesses. As reconciliation has failed, both parties have petitioned for trial by combat under the law of God and the judgment of this Court.

The crowd moves and starts clamoring again. You only hear the snippets of their conversations, but it seems they are talking about the details of the infidelities and that the only way to find out who is in the right was to leave it to God.

The horn trumpet blasts again and everyone quiets down for the judicial pronouncement the Magistrate reads from Sachsenspiegel, a compilation of the medieval laws:

By the customs of this kingdom, a man may challenge his wife to judicial combat for grievous offense, and she may answer that charge in kind. In such a case, the combat shall be arranged to equal the strength of arms. The man shall be placed in a pit dug to his waist, with one hand bound to his side. The woman shall be free upon the field and armed with a stone weighted in cloth. The man shall wield a club of equal weight.

The Magistrate closes the book and waves at the soldiers nearby to start preparation of the duel field. They quickly dig a pit in the center of the square —waist-deep, about three feet wide.

Heinrich the husband is led to the pit as the wife's side boos and yells at him. His right arm is tied to his torso with a tight rope. He is handed a wooden club, about three feet long.

Long enough to wield it to keep the wife away from the pit.

Accompanied by her husband's side boos and her relatives' cheers, Greta is led to stand outside the pit. For a weapon, she is given a cloth weighted with a stone, knotted for grip.

You notice that they both are dressed in simple tunics. For modesty, Greta is also wearing primitive leggings. Armor is strictly forbidden.

Another horn trumpet precedes the cleric, who loudly blesses the field, invoking divine justice. A court scribe is ready to record the outcome, whatever it might be.

The herald blows the horn and announces loudly to the crowd:

This is a true duel under God. Let no man nor woman interfere, on pain of law. Should either party forfeit, it shall be judged guilty. Let the combat begin.

Greta slowly circles the pit, swinging her stone-weighted cloth, as if estimating the range and force of a blow. Heinrich waits, club ready. She strikes once, stone slightly grazing Heinrich's shoulder as he sways away. He swings the bat upward, barely missing her leg. Greta retreats, getting ready for another strike. Heinrich watches her like a hawk.

This could last either minutes or forever, depending on their stamina, resolve, and injuries.

You hear someone in the crowd explaining to a child that if either combatant is disarmed, falls, or calls for mercy, the fight ends. As Greta continues circling the pit, you notice that Heinrich is clearly using his non-dominant hand. You wonder if that was deliberate, to even out the fight, that they tied his dominant arm immobile. You can also see that Greta clearly has an advantage of mobility and speed. All Heinrich can do is deflect or dodge her blows. He always seems to be missing her with his bat just by an inch or so.

Is he not trying hard enough? Did he give up on his own life? He seems to have already given this victory to his wife, who seems to be dead set on killing him, jumping around like a deadly grasshopper?

In about twenty minutes of this violent dance, Greta managed to hit Heinrich on the back of his head. He slumps in the pit, with blood gushing out of his head.

"Father, no!" a child's voice cries out. Everyone's eyes turn to him, a little boy of about 6-7, standing next to his other siblings and an older female relative. Her joy suggests that she is probably Greta's sister. Greta smiles at them, throws her husband one last look of contempt, and steps away.

The Magistrate waves to stop the duel. One of the soldiers goes to check on the husband and declares, "still alive!" The Magistrate nods and gives a sign to the scribe to announce the outcome.

The scribe gets up and declares:

On this day, before God and gathered witnesses, Greta Bauer did prevail in judicial marital combat. The contestant, Heinrich Bauer, succumbed after a blow to the head. Judgment of the court is rendered: Greta is free of all charges, and Heinrich shall hang before sunset. So let it be written.

The crowd aws and ahs as Heinrich's body it taken out of the pit and dragged to the town's prison.

"What if the husband won?" you ask the crowd, addressing no one in particular.

A stocky middle-aged man explains to you that Greta would have been declared guilty. In charges of adultery like this, the wife would have most probably been executed by fire or live burial.

"And in that case, what would have happened to the husband?"

"He'd have taken another woman, to raise the kids. He also could reclaim the dowry he gave for her to her parents."

"Can Greta take another man?"

"Not if he doesn't want to," the man cracks a joke. "She'd have to look high and hard to find another husband."

"Why is that?"

"There's no man in town who doesn't know her too well, if you know what I mean," the man winked, smiled broadly and laughed heartily, exposing his toothless gums.

"I thought she accused her husband of adultery..."

"They both did, hence the duel."

"Were they both unfaithful to each other?"

The man just looked at you as if you are stupid and started laughing again. "You are not from here, I can tell, but are you also slow?"

You ignore his comment and ask, "So if they are both guilty of adultery, why not just get a divorce?"

"They just did," the man again looked at you like you are crazy. His patience was clearly running out.

"Yes, but the husband will end up dead," you protest weakly.

"Such is God's will," the man snapped and turned away. You watch Greta reunite with her family, trying to console the little boy, who still cries for his father. The crowd starts to disperse, there's nothing more to see here.

Now, from the modern perspective, this ritual seems quintessentially medieval in its barbarity, crudeness, and cruelty. However, we have to keep in mind that divorce by combat wasn't just law. It was ritual theater, fusing divine will, legal process, and public morality. It served to discourage false accusations, control marital dynamics, and reaffirm the moral order before a watching community. There are very few confirmed historical records of it actually taking place, so it was probably most effective as a divorce deterrent rather than a way to terminate marriage.

Actual divorce by combat was extremely rare in practice. History would have burnt this page of medieval law had it not been for a quirky combat manual by Hans Talhoffer with (mostly imaginary) vivid illustrations, descriptions and instructions for both the husband and wife to win the duel. It still entices imaginations of fighters and writers such as myself.

My earlier fiction story has another illustration from the combat manual: