1551
--We turn to Scotland as the year begins, where the hunt for Arran continues. Marie of Guise recieves a long, rambling letter from the man, wherein he incoherantly denies killing Angus, but then also incoherantly insists the Earl had it coming. This clears up some questions of Arran's whereabouts--he hasn't fled the country. The problem is that Scotland is a pretty wild place where a man can easily hide out if he has to--especially if, like the Earl of Arran, he possesses money and friends. While the Crown seeks Arran for a trial, or at least to have him answer some questions, the new Earl of Angus is seeking him out for more personal reasons--Scotland is rather old-fashioned in its pursuit of feuds, and Angus wants his uncle's killer dead. The Catholic, French, English and Protestant factions all wait on tenterhooks. About the only thing that is keeping this from exploding is that Arran was something of an outsider to all their squabbles--most see Angus' death as the act of a madman, not an insidious plot by INSERT OPPOSING FACTION'S NAME HERE. But there are whispers, nonetheless.
--In early spring, John Frederick the Younger, and Princess Elizabeth Tudor are wed in Wittenberg. The wedding is a surprisingly simple affair, as much from necessity as the traditional Protestant austerity--the Elector is still getting his finances in order from the Schmalkaldic War, and is also recruiting mercenaries for Cleves... just in case somebody gets... ideas in the upcoming war. Despite the relativly spartan ceremony, it is the event of what the evangelical Protestant world--the joining of its two great dynasties--sorry, Denmark--in the form of a dashing young man, and a beautiful young woman. Among those attending the wedding are the Elector Joachim of Brandenburg, in a touching display of the new church's ability to turn old rivalries into alliances--the Margrave Albert and his new wife, Agnes of Hesse--who also happens to be the widow of his best friend, the late Duke Maurice [1]--cousin Duke Augustus of Saxe-Weisenfals, who naturally keeps a healthy distance from the afore-mentioned pair--the groom's mother and aunt, Sybille and Anne of Cleves, and his brother John William. John Frederick the Elder, alas, is unable to attend, kept busy by League business. The Emperor and his brother's constant appeals for some sort assistance have gotten the Protestant Princes thinking that maybe they should twist a few more concessions out of the Hapsburgs--and they have a particular one in mind.
In the Schmalkaldic War, during his "Year of Miracles" as some now call it, Charles captured and deposed Hermann von Wied, the excommunicated Protestant-leaning Archbishop of Cologne. During the peace talks, the whole matter of Hermann, who'd by this time gone full-blown Protestant, was studiously avoided by both sides. Some League members think now they should insist he be reinstated--and allowed to select his successor. John Frederick is naturally opposing this--while he may be as stubborn as ever, the Elector of Saxony knows by what a slender thread his "victory" was achieved. Asking that the Emperor depose a sitting Catholic Archbishop-ELECTOR for a Protestant is... over the top. Philip of Hesse agrees with him, but keeps quietly giving encouragement to the radicals, largely so he can needle John Frederick. Needless to say, this makes League meetings and diplomacy even more frustating than usual.
--Pope Pius names Giovanni Maria Ciocchi del Monte his papal legate to the Empire. While some are convinced this is simply a move to get a rival out of the way, in truth, Pius has little fear of del Monte and a great respect for the Cardinal's ability as a diplomat. Further, it will infuriate the Emperor, and that, to Pius' mind, is always a plus.
Cardinal del Monte is not the only former papabile Pius is finding a place for--Cardinal Marcello Cervini degli Spannochi, a prominent reformer, is being brought into Pius' inner circle, as well as another former rival, Cardinal Giovanni Morone, who Pius once had a dispute over a benfice with. (It is one of history's many ironies that Pius, whose Papacy will see such a rollback on pluracy and absentee bishops was one of the great examples of both.) It's all part of Pius' effort to harness the reformers to his side, largely because the Pope is smart enough to know he's going to have to oversee some big changes in the Church AND that he really hasn't focused on this during his rise to the top, so he's going to need allies who have.
Pius is also distracted by a family matter--his brother, Duke Ercole, writes to ask for Pius' aid in divorcing his wife, Renee of France, who is 'a most intractable heretic'. Unfortunately for Ercole, Pius is rather fond of Renee, and replies stormily to his brother that it is extraordinarily presumptious of him to involve the Pope in his domestic squabble. That stated, aware that Renee is unhappy, he allows a seperation, and twists Henri's arm a little to let her return home. For Cardinal Carafa, this all proves his darkest suspicions--the new Pope is far, far more sympathetic to the Protestants than he should be. Has he not allowed the pestilent Peace of Augsburg to go forward? Has he not surrounded himself with Spirituali, a movement Carafa PROVED was just a figleaf for the Protestants?[2] And most damningly of all, has he not just revealed his affection for a female heretic--one who is his brother's own wife? It is the beginning of a lengthy rivalry between Inquisitor and Pope--one that will ultimately have explosive effects on the Catholic Church...
--In Spain, Emperor Charles takes time off from his troop preparations to meet with his young grandson and namesake. The young boy is enraptured by the Emperor's tales of his wars, though rather disappointed to learn that his grandfather has lost battles, and even retreated on occasion. When he is king, young Charles declares, he shall never lose, and never retreat. The Emperor laughs, pats the boy's head fondly, and then writes to his son telling him that he has to do something about little Charles. The boy, he notes more prophetically than he realizes, is growing into the kind of man who topples kingdoms when left in charge. Philip takes his father's warning to heart, but as of yet, does nothing, as he's rather busy right now. The Emperor has just planted further seeds in what will be the great disaster of his son's reign, though he doesn't realize that, and in fact, never will.
In other family matters, the Emperor, with just the right amount diplomatic arm-twisting and sweet talk, manages to convince Portugal's King John to wed his sister Maria to Philip, who is her nephew. And her cousin. While neither bride or groom can be said to be thrilled with this marriage, they are both the sort of people who'll do what they're told wh. This is the first building block of what will be a fairly successful relationship.
--In Dublin, Anne's little project bears its first fruits, as the Gaelic printing presses go into operation. The first volume it prints is--not the Bible. That translation project is ongoing, thank you very much--the Bible, remember, is quite large, and getting it right is quite important. No, the first book to be printed in Gaelic is a translation of the Life of Luther, done by a former monk, one Daniel O'Farrell--or more accurately, Donal o Fearghail [3]. Donal, in a brief introduction, says that he has done this 'to stir hearts and win minds', adding that he feels that his countrymen could learn much from Luther. Donal is, at this moment, the most prominent of the translators in the Bible project, and travelling between London and Dublin quite frequently, spending quite a lot of time chatting with Cramner, who is pleased to have aided in making such an educated convert. On his deathbed, Cramner will reportedly state that his greatest regret is he didn't hang the man when he had the chance.
Donal is one of many Irish ex-monks who, finding themselves uprooted by the Dissolution, have been trying desperately to figure out how God could allow this to happen, and unlike most of them, he now thinks he knows. For Donal, the TRUTH started to become clear after he took the translation project. Like most of his fellows who took the job, Donal's only real thought at first was getting a little extra money--however, exposure to Protestant literature struck a chord with the young monk, who was pretty soon devouring whole volumes of the stuff on the side. Nor is he alone in this--while most of the monks on the project view it as a job--with some even slipping in little jokes about their employers in their work--a few are astonishing themselves by making a connection to the Protestant ethos. Donal is the strongest personality among these, and will ultimately emerge as the leader, a fact that will have enormous consequences for Ireland, England, the Protestant world, and indeed, the world in general. But right now, he's simply an earnest young man translating the Song of Songs, while going through Calvin's Institutes in his spare time. And yet--he's got ideas. Ideas about what's happening in Ireland. And what the Christian Church should be like. And needless to say, they aren't quite the same as his employers'. This will lead to problems. Also, bloodshed. And horror. Can't forget that.
--The armies of France and its vassal Savoie invade Hapsburg Milan, under the leadership of Emannuel Philibert, clashing with the Duke of Alba's army in a brutal series of battles. By the end of campaigning season, the Duke of Savoie has advanced well into Lombardia. But his efforts are overshadowed by Francois de Guise, whose invasion of Lorraine is a smashing success, seizing the cities of Metz, Toul, and Verdun.
And worse news comes. The Turks invade Hungary once again, while launching their fleet on the Mediterranean. This brings the Schmalkaldic League out of their combination of inaction and intercine bickering, as everyone can agree that they should help the Emperor face the insidious Turk, and they begin to raise their armies. John Frederick sends his eldest son back to Cleves, seperating him from his new bride after a few months of married life. However, they have been fruitful--Elizabeth is pregnant.
--In Geneva, jewel of the Reformed Church(es), John Calvin having heard of the Schmalkaldic League's latest dispute, let's loose with an abusive pamphlet. In it he divides the Protestant movement into two neat little factions--the holy and righteous Reformed Church, and the cowardly, unworthy Nicomedians, who refuse to give up Catholic habits out of fear and superstition. (Calvin has used the term in the past, with a slightly different meaning, but he's not a man to throw out a handy label.) By this, he of course means the Lutherans and the Anglicans--indeed he names several prominent leaders of both camps and even heaps a little abuse on Luther and what he sees as his growing cult. The response of the people he is lambasting is more or less what you'd expect--in Wittenberg, Matthias Flaccius witheringly responds that Calvin accusing men who faced down the Emperor's army of cowardice from the safety of Geneva beggars belief. In London, Cramner is bitterly offended--he in fact has sizable Reformed-leanings, and has made the numerous compromises on matters like the Eucharist with England's more evangelical-minded members after a great deal of soul-searching. To find himself called a tyrant, and a crypto-papist destroys much of this sympathy. Henry flirts with banning Calvin's work, though his brother manages to talk him out of it. (Edward has a rather deep interest in Reformed theology.) And Norfolk toys with writing a pamphlet of his own. As soon as he's finished with the second part of Brutus.
The response from the rest of the Reformed world is likewise disheartening--in Marburg, Melanchthon essentially declares that he is not affiliated with that man, and does not endorse his views, while in Strassburg--the other jewel of the Reformed Church(es)--the ailing Martin Bucer manages to jot down a pamphlet wherein he quietly upbraids Calvin for his lack of charity[4]. And in Poland, Jan Laski, head of the Church of the Strangers bitches about how Calvin has just made the cause of Reformed Protestantism more difficult. And yet for all this, future generations will more or less adopt Calvin's formulation. There's a reason for this. First of all, while Calvin is not Luther to the Reformed Church, he talks longer, harder and better than any of his rivals, which means that he's the one who most people wind up remembering. Secondly, his little scheme is much easier to remember than the horrifically complex tangle of Protestant churches, ranging from the Reformed Churches of Geneva and Strassburg, to Reformed Lutheranism, to Anglicanism's strange blend, to True Lutheranism, with the various Hussite sects, anti-Trinitarians, and Anabaptists playing their part.
--England officially enters the war against the Emepror, though does little as yet, save for some privateers harassing Spanish ships. King Henry, always eager to indulge in a little propaganda, commissions a painting of himself in full battle-gear, while Norfolk heads out to Calais with some troops.
However, further war preparations are stalled when an outbreak of the sweating sickness ravages London. Henry avoids infection, as does his sister Margeret--despite fears of her questionable health--as well as Arthur Fitzroy. Edward is not so lucky--he is with the Duke of Suffolk and his brother during the outbreak and like them, comes down with the disease. However, unlike them, he survives--though learning that his friends are dead upon his recovery depresses him greatly. As Edward Tudor has already acquired the nickname 'Grim Ned' one can guess how deep a funk this is. Still, he delivers his latest eulogies at their funeralas, and starts attending Council meetings again in no time at all.
Once the crisis is past, Parliament signals that it wants something done to secure the line of succession a bit more. True, they've got an heir and... well, what you could call an emergency spare, but still, they'd like things more settled. Obviously, while they'd like Henry married, that's... a way off, and they don't want to offend their French allies. And so, they'd prefer it if Edward would get himmself married. And maybe Arthur as well. Henry leaves the matter to his mother, and Anne takes to it with gusto. Arthur is easy--a few chats, and he's engaged to young Jane Grey, who just happens to have a place on the line of succession. This neatly bypasses the murky area of Arthur's legal claim to the throne--while he is a direct-male line descendent of Henry VIII, his father was a bastard, after all, and though Henry kept making noises about posthumously legalizing him, ultimately, he never did, for a variety of reasons. Regardless of what one thinks of Arthur's place in the succession, his children's will be rock-solid. While all this could theoretically make him a threat, Anne isn't too worried about that--Arthur possesses an almost canine loyalty to his royal uncle, a fact that is so well known as to discourage most would-be plotters. Plus, he's a singularly uninspiring candidate for the Catholic holdouts who Anne sees as the greatest threat to Henry--Norfolk's nephew, and spiritual disciple.
As for Edward, Anne starts looking into available German Protestant Princesses. Outside of the Wettins, mind you--she feels it's time for England to diversify its dynastic connections.
--Speaking of German Protestant Princes, Duke William of Bavaria dies, and is succeeded by his son Albert. [5] While Albert has had a strict Catholic upbringing, he is more or less incapable of any strong religious feeling whatsoever, and trusts his father's political judgement implicitly. And so the Reformation continues apace, with Albert helping himself to monastic lands, and using his status as Landsvater to strongarm Catholic and Lutheran noblemen under him alike as he expands his authority.[6] He may not be devout--but he knows good politics when he sees it.
--In Scotland, the Earl of Angus' ceaseless searching for the Earl of Arran turns something up, a young man hiding out in a small village. The Earl rounds up some companions, break into the house where he is staying, and brutally kill him, stabbing him in the stomach, the groin, and the sides. It's as they're preparing to mutilate the dying man's face that they realize they've got the wrong Hamilton--they've just killed Arran's younger brother John. Realizing that there might be some blowback from this, Angus goes back to his homebase Tantallon Castle and secures it, while calling up as many of his followers as will come. This turns out to be a lot. Meanwhile the rest of the Hamiltons (including John and James' mother Margaret, who is a Douglas herself) flee the country for France.
When news of this murder reaches the court, Angus is quickly attainted, with the Duke of Aumale and his French troops marching against him. The tension in Scotland rises another level--while no one approves of Angus' actions, many are also discomfitted to see Aumale and his French troops being elevated into the right hand of the Crown. Many fear this is the thin edge of the wedge that ends with French troops running the show in Scotland. That stated, all this surprisingly does NOT up the tensions between Scottish Catholics and Protestants--the Douglases straddle the line with members in both faiths. This is seen as the ambitions and lawlessness of a single family, not a religious matter.
--Henri discovers the downside to allying with the Turks when they besiege Tripoli, second to last stronghold of the Knights of Rhodes--who the French aren't fighting. Henri sends an ambassador to the Turks to tell them to quit it and keep sticking it to the Emperor--the Turks reply by saying they do what they want, thank you very much. As Tripoli falls, Henri thus finds himself looking rather bad. [7] While this doesn't affect the English alliance, it more or less scuppers any hopes of the German Protestant Princes signing up, AND has Pope Pius explaining to his friend that while he's willing to take arms against the Emperor if he goes too far, the Holy See cannot openly ally with France in these circumstances. It's the sort of thing his father would have warned him about, if Henri had ever bothered to listen to him.
Still, despite this little embarassment, Henri is optimistic. He's winning big victories, England's going to get seriously involved next year, and the Pope's still quietly on his side. Life is good. He's especially impressed with the Duke of Guise, a fact that Diane de Poiters does her best to increase--the Guises are relatives by marriage. And so, Henri, without even realizing it, starts on a dangerous path...
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[1] Agnes remarried IOTL as well--to John Frederick II, the first of two wives. (She died in a miscarriage that some rumored was a poisoning.) Of course, ITTL, Margrave Albert doesn't have the disadvantage of having killed Maurice. (Yes, they wound up on opposite sides in the Margrave's War, OTL's sequal to the Schmalkaldic War.)
[2] Carafa is referring to chiefly Morone, who isn't really a Spirituali, though is fairly sympathetic to them. During Carafa's Papacy, IOTL, he had the devout Morone imprisoned by the Inquisition for Protestant leanings. An inquiry revealed he had none. Carafa didn't let him go, though at his death, Morone was released and resumed his position of honor in the Church.
[3] Donal, alas, is something of my own creation--though he does share a name with a possible Catholic bishop of Dublin from this time period. Simply put, our records of random Irish monks aren't that good.
[4] IOTL, Strasburg was forced to let its Catholic clergy back in following the Schmalkaldic War, which was the beginning of the end of its place of prominence in the Reformed Protestant circles. Here that hasn't happened. Further, while Bucer died early in this year IOTL, here, he's going to live a bit longer, as he hasn't had to pack up and flee to England.
[5] He died in 1550, IOTL. His survival a little longer is butterflies.
[6] Aside from the monasteries, this is what Albert used the Counter-Reformation for IOTL. A Wittelbach will be a Wittelbach.
[7] This also happened IOTL, though there, it didn't affect his alliance with the Protestant Princes, who were pretty damn desperate by this time.
will have some dramatic consequences. If it triggers a major, possibly religious, civil war in Scotland it could cause a split between England and France.
