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If you look at it one way, Alfonso X wasn’t all that great at his job. As the ruler of Castile and Leon in what’s now northern Spain between the 1250s and the 1280s, he racked up a decidedly mixed record when it came to the usual stuff of kings: wars and money and power. Here he is, looking rather unconvincing on a warhorse:
While on the throne, Alfonso put down several revolts, one by his nobles and one by Muslim dissidents. He fended off an invasion from the Muslim kingdoms to his south, annexing the city of Murcia in the process, but he later lost much of what he had conquered when Morocco and Granada invaded his territory later on. Alfonso made an unsuccessful bid to become the Holy Roman Emperor, losing out to a guy named Richard of Cornwall. He instituted economic reforms that mostly backfired. And he spent his final years embroiled in a civil war against his son, Sancho, over who should rule the kingdom upon his death. After he died, Sancho took the throne against his father’s wishes.
Viewed this way, Alfonso goes down in history as a deeply mediocre king who muddled through a bunch of wars and power struggles that seem utterly pointless and irrelevant, especially from a distance of eight centuries. And if that was all he did, no one would really remember him. It’s pretty easy to tell, however, what really got Alfonso out of bed in the morning — and it wasn’t commanding the army or managing the economy. It was the life of the mind.
He was known as Alfonso el Sabio (the Wise) or Alfonso el Astrologo (the Astrologer) because of his relentless interest in learning. Unlike many of his Christian contemporaries, he surrounded himself with Jewish and Muslim scholars as well as Christians because he saw value in all of the major intellectual traditions of Spain.
Alfonso’s scholars produced a remarkably diverse array of scholarship. They translated all sorts of books out of Arabic and Hebrew, making them available to the Christian world. These included, as Alfonso’s nickname indicates, works on astronomy, as well as books on magic and music. What remains of these books indicates that they were exquisite works of art:
Alfonso’s court also pioneered the use of vernacular Castilian (rather than Latin) as a language of scholarship. This allowed more people to access written works and contribute to scholarship. Alfonso presided over the compilation of important works of musical scholarship, a history of the world, and the most exhaustive code of law of its time, which would eventually be used not just in Spain but across its empire. Scholars have noted that he was a Renaissance monarch who lived several centuries too early, presaging the humanistic, scientific, and literary achievements of a later era.
Oh, and he really, really liked board games. I could go on about the great intellectual accomplishments of Alfonso’s court, but what I really want to show you is his big book of games. It’s called, appropriately, the Libro de los Juegos, and it may not be the most important thing he did, but it’s the coolest.
The Libro may also be the book that best reflects Alfonso’s interests. Olivia Remie Constable writes that
Perhaps more than any other Alfonsine text, the Libro de ajedrez [another name for the book] seems fashioned for the personal pleasure of its royal patron, whose passion for chess influenced its content and design, and for a courtly circle of companions. In order to be fully appreciated, the manuscript required a cultured and aristocratic audience with the opportunity of leisure, an understanding of chess, and a familiarity with the pleasures, personnel, and pursuits of life at Alfonso’s court.
The images of Alfonso in the book show him in his element, with his court scholars:
Games, in Alfonso’s mind, are a gift from God:
Because God wanted that man have every manner of happiness, in himself naturally, so that he could suffer the cares and troubles when they came to them, therefore men sought out many ways that they could have this happiness completely. Wherefore they found and made many types of play and pieces with which to delight themselves.
He acknowledges that sports are fun and have their place, but board games are for everyone: women, old men, and even convicts can enjoy them. Alfonso’s book of games attempts to categorize games, assess their importance in people’s lives, and provides a glimpse of life in 13th-century Spain.
The book addresses chess first, because Alfonso thinks that it’s the best — “a nobler and more honoured game” than the others. This section of the book contains dozens of chess problems for the reader to study. The illustrations around the problems show us the diversity of Alfonso’s world. We see a Muslim playing chess against a Christian:
Alongside a group of Berbers:
And some Templars:
Chess is for women, too, as illustrated in this image of Moorish women playing while listening to a lutist:
The book has interesting variations on the game, as well, including a version played on a 12x12 grid and “four seasons” chess for four players, each representing one of the four classical elements or humours:
The book moves on from chess to dice games, asking whether it is better to be smart (and thus good at chess) or lucky (and good at dice). The book details the construction of dice and various games that can be played with them. Most of the games seem to involve gambling of some kind.
Finally come the table games, which combine luck with a bit of strategy. Some of these resemble modern games. A few had something in common with backgammon, like the game of laquet (the quest):
Or this one, called sies, dos, y as (six, two, and one):
Other popular medieval games show up, as well, including several variations of nine men’s morris:
The book ends with two elaborate games that must have had great meaning for a king known as the Astrologer. The first is called astrological chess (or checkers), and the second is astrological tables:
Both games feature seven players, to correspond with the seven “planets” (Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, Mercury, Venus, the Sun, and the Moon). Players roll a seven-sided die to move and then occupy spaces that entitle them to collect money from other players.
It’s clear that Alfonso found great meaning in games. In his eyes, the three types of games represent various ways of approaching life — should one rely on intellect or luck alone, or combine the two?
To make a book like Alfonso’s book of games in the 1200s was to spend a great deal of money and time. These books were created at huge expense and effort, copied and illustrated by skilled artists onto the skins of dozens of animals. It made sense to record important religious treatises or great works of literature in those days, but I would imagine that most people would have had neither the time nor the inclination to expend so much on a glorified book of game instructions.
But not Alfonso. He seems to have derived a great deal of pleasure from playing games and had the resources to turn his love of games into a beautiful book. And we’re lucky that he did, because his book gives us a window into the ways that medieval people thought about the heavens, their own society, and how to have fun.
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