1544
--King Henry surprises everybody by staging a partial recovery. While it's amazing that he's still alive, he is still far, far weaker than he was earlier--which was pretty damn bad. It's clear to everyone that Henry is probably going to die within a year--maybe a bit longer if he's lucky. Anne and the Privy Council are looking for him to make some sort of official instructions on how to handle Prince Henry's minority. But the King continues to drag things out--making half-serious suggestions, then drawing them back. Henry seems to remain in partial denial about what's happening, though another part of him seems to want to let his advisors duke it out after he's gone in almost Alexander-like desire to let the strongest win.
--Emperor Charles is a man facing too many problems at once. He's got war with France on two fronts, the Elector of Saxony suddenly becoming distressingly powerful, his Burgundian Dutch subjects calling on him to come to a deal to get Denmark to let their ships back in, and his son's marriage to Maria Manuela of Portugal to deal with. With the exception of the last one, these are all significant problems where Charles faces an array of bad choices, and has to puzzle out the least bad one. (For the last, Charles gives Philip the crown of Naples as a wedding present, and thanks God that his son's idea of a love match is with a cousin that strengthens Hapsburg connections with the Portugese throne.)
In the war with France, it's not all bad news--they've managed to mostly push Francois' forces out of the Seventeen Provinces, but they haven't been able to progress much further and take the fight to him. In the south, on the other hand, it's been unmitigated disaster--Francois continues to make gains. Charles starts making peace proposals, in the hopes that Francois will want to quit while he's ahead for once. His initial proposal runs as follows--Francois gets to keep Nice. The title of Duke of Savoy will be recognized as owing fealty to the King of France, and given to Francois' son Charles of Orleans. (This bit offends Charles of Savoy, the present titular Duke, and his son Emmanuel Philibert, whose been serving with the Emperor, but quite frankly, the Emperor's looking at minimizing his losses at the moment, not keeping random hanger-ons happy.) Orleans will be betrothed to either the Emperor's daughter, with Burgundy as a dowry, or the Emperor's niece, who will be given the Duchy of Milan as a dowry. In many respects, it's a good offer. Suspiciously so, in fact, and Francois notes that. The Emperor has been trying this same trick for years now, and he's not biting. Emperor Charles' plan is simple--set the Dauphine and Orleans against each other, by making Orleans a virtual king in his own right. And Francois has other reasons not to take up this offer--he wants the Duchy of Milan acknowledged as his birthright, not as some Hapsburg wedding present that can be yanked away whenever they decide it's served its purpose. So, for now--no dice. But they're talking. It's a start.
The matter of John Frederick is even more complicated--as noted earlier, Charles can't risk letting him get more powerful, but attacking right now is extremely risky. Charles debates and debates, and finally comes up with a course of action. It's a gamble, but EVERY course of action in this case is a gamble. He sends a declaration to the Elector that as Duke William died fighting against the Emperor, his lands were technically forfeit, so John Frederick should politely give them up. John Frederick of course, refuses--William may have been rebelling against the Empire, but he and his wife weren't, so they aren't giving up their rightful inheritance. Which is about what Charles expected--he warns them that they're risking an Imperial ban, and then gets back to work with the war on France. He's laid the groundwork for a move against Electoral Saxony not as a matter of religion, but as a matter of keeping a Prince from acquiring lands he really shouldn't, something the always fractious German noblity can get behind. (He's had another matter he could use to put the ban on Electoral Saxony for some time, but it's very much a Protestant-Catholic thing, so it will continue to wait in the wings.) And he gets in contact with a few of John Frederick's rivals, and politely suggests that if they were to attack the Elector, he really wouldn't mind. Wink, wink.
Finally, as for Denmark, Charles abases himself, and on bended knee, apologises for all his attempts to cause Christian III trouble, and promises never to do it again, because Christian is so clearly the lawful King of Denmark. Christian indicates he should go on. Dutch ships are still being kept from Danish waters, with the English picking up the slack--and making out like bandits, it should be noted--but it looks like things will be back to normal shortly.
And so matters stand. Charles has taken a bunch of options that he hope happen to be the best of a group of bad choices. He might be wrong, and he knows it. But that's what being a monarch is about. Making choices.
--In Scotland, James V continues to walk himself to the brink of a bad choice, then back. He has gotten word from several of the Border lords, that if he were to perform certain hypothetical actions, they would give him their hypothetical support. And his wife is pregnant again, with what James is certain is his son and heir. More and more, James hears the whispering in his mind, the temptation to leave his son a greater monarch then his father left him. And yet--he can't be sure it will succeed. It probably won't. Better to wait.
--With Henry's growing incapicity, Anne's hold on the government--already quite significant--is strengthening monthly, and she is growing increasingly alarmed by the situation on the Scottish border. She's walking back the "Prince Henry weds Mary" proposal, and suggesting "Edward weds Mary" instead, an option that she hopes will prove less... inflammatory. She also sends her brother George up there to try and remind any Border lords who are wavering that even if Henry is on death's door, the government is still quite strong. Unfortunately, this plan gets derailed when George falls from his horse on the road. He dies several days later, leaving his titles to his young nephew Henry Carey, and his wife and sister devastated. Anne is particularly troubled by this--George was always her favorite sibling, as well as her most reliable ally. Now he's gone, which means she needs a new right hand on the Council. Cromwell is out--yes, Anne appreciates his skills, which is why he's just become Lord Chamberlain, but simply put, he tends to work to his own advantage. Anne needs someone who will work towards hers. And so, William Paulet becomes the new Lord Privy Seal. True, Paulet has no loyalty that can't change when necessary, but he likes to stay on the winning team, and he realizes that's almost always the house. By Renaissance court standards, that's a rock.
Anne has other matters to deal with--her ailing estranged sister Mary has been trying to get in touch of late, largely to see if Anne can't do something for the rest of her children. George's death has made Anne a bit more sentimental--at least for the short term--and so the Straffords come join their half-siblings the Careys at the court.
--Even as Christian enjoys watching Charles sweat he finds time to deal with affairs by granting his half-siblings their share of the royal lands in a complicated landsharing arrangement that is far too tedious to describe here. John becomes the Duke of Schleswig-Holstein-Haderslev. This joyous news is soon marred by tragedy--his wife Mary Tudor goes into a lengthy, difficult labor, and though the child (a son who will be named John Christian) is delivered successfully, Mary dies shortly thereafter. Duke John is devastated. He will never remarry, and indeed, will carry a pair of Mary's gloves, and a locket with her portrait and a lock of her hair with him for the rest of his days.
--Francois is enjoying what has, by his admittedly subpar standards, been one successful war. True, he's bleeding money (and his soldiers are bleeding, well, blood), the Ottoman connection has turned out to be embarrassing in all sorts of ways, the war in the North has not exactly been massively successful, and his health has not been the greatest of late, what with being a man with advanced syphillis leading an army over miles of terrain. But he's got Charles on the ropes! Finally! And then suddenly two things happen that make him start feeling mortal. Which tells you what a big deal this is, as Francois and Henry are soul brothers on the whole king as 'narcisstic man-child' thing.
First, the Count of Enghien, commander of the force in the south, dies heroically during a skirmish with Imperial forces.[1] While the French position in Italy remains strong, Enghien--who leaves behind his German wife, and an infant daughter, Francoise de Bourbon--was an exceptionally talented commander, whose loss is deeply felt both tactically, and as a morale killer. But the second thing is... even worse.
Charles of Orleans is the apple of his father's eye, a bright, happy and daring Prince who reminds Francois of himself. He's taken an active part in the war, taking Luxembourg early on, even if he did run off to fight somewhere else, leaving it undermanned so that the Empire took it right back. For Orleans, like his father, this is really something of a game. He demonstrates this during his second siege of Luxembourg by attempting to ride around the city walls three times, naked. He makes it around twice before some man with an arquebus decides to take a shot at the nude idiot disrespecting his city. The shot hits, and Charles is thrown from his horse, dying a day later from his extensive injuries. [2] This the sort of thing that makes an aging man feel old, and the birth of his grandson to the Dauphin--named Francois, of course--doesn't help. The King of France is now willing to consider a peace deal. A really, REALLY good peace deal.
--News of his daughter's death hits the ailing and reliably sentimental after he's screwed you over Henry hard--still weak from his last health crisis, he promptly has another one. Naturally, even as the Privy Council assure everyone that everything's fine and under control, some people are certain that the King is dying or dead and that everything is falling into chaos. One such man is Henry Neville, the 5th Earl of Westmorland--and Neville is just fine with that. A Northerner and a Catholic, Neville is one of the many people on James V's little mailing list, and he's been throwing hissy fits about the English political situation for years. England has already gotten much too Protestant for his liking, and he's pretty certain that when the King dies, it'll get worse. Something MUST be done--and by gum, Westmorland is the man to do it. And so, when he hears that Henry is dead, or as good as it, he rallies his men, sends notice to his fellow border lords that the time to act is NOW, notifies James that he's pretty much lawful king of England, and declares--A NEW PILGRIMAGE OF THE FAITHFUL! Only led by the right sort this time! The real right sort, also, not like that upstart Darcy!
Historians will debate whether Westmorland's uprising counts as a Pilgrimage at all, as he not only draws no popular support, he doesn't even manage to go anywhere. Unfortunately for Neville, you see--he's been made. He no sooner starts bringing his forces together, then Shrewsbury is knocking on his door with a force that includes a good selection of the Border lords he thought were his allies. As for James, he comes to the border with a force of his most loyal Catholic underlings--he's worried about the unrest, wink, wink--but he doesn't plan on crossing it unless things suggest it will take off, which--this doesn't look like it will. And... it doesn't. Westmorland is crushed and captured before he can even get started. And so his uprising ends.
And that would be the end of things--except there are now a group of Scottish soldiers, and a group of English soldiers staring at each other from across the border, with the Scots insisting they weren't planning anything untoward, really, and the English saying 'pull the other one, it's got bells on it'. In a situation like that, it's all too easy for something to happen. And it does. What is tough to say, because everybody has their own version. Maybe some English soldiers cross over into Scotland. Maybe some Scot soldiers cross over into England. Maybe they both cross over--maybe nobody crosses over at all, but everyone is convinced they have. All that's certain is that there's some sort of disturbance--maybe a few shots fired--and suddenly, Shrewsbury is leading an army into Scotland. And then James fights him off--Shrewsbury's men still a bit worn out from crushing Westmorland--and then James is leading an army into England. News of this reaches London in time for a somewhat recovering Henry to croak out a declaration of war, and then get sick again. Which is quickly followed by learning that James' army has run into the army they had Norfolk call up just in case Westmorland's effort took off, gotten badly mauled by this and Shrewsbury's reassembled forces, and is now limping his way back to Scotland. While Anne and the Privy Council can't exactly... undeclare war at the moment, they do decide to hold back, and see if James is... willing to be reasonable.
--James of Scotland is not the only man watching careful plotting being undone by that one idiot who couldn't follow the plan. Emperor Charles is as well, and in his case, it's even worse, because he actually knows what he's doing. His plan to isolate John Frederick is WORKING, with the Schmalkaldic League hesitating to support the Elector on this matter, despite him being its virtual leader. Indeed--almost because of this--John Frederick is an overwhelming personality, who follows his passion--Protestantism--with an almost obsessive interest, as if trying to win some 'Most Protestant Prince in Europe' award. You rededicating the family chapel to the Lutheran rite? John Frederick has built a new one specifically for it, and had Martin Luther over to give the first sermon. You thinking about spreading the good Lutheran word? John Frederick has personally supported the printing of Luther's translations. You got a quarrel with the Emperor? John Frederick has probably killed more of Charles' proposals to settle this whole 'Luther' matter amicably than anyone aside from Luther. He's brave and smart, but also prickly and just a tad fanatical. And so some people are hesitant to help him.
But you, see John Frederick has a cousin, Maurice, the Duke of Saxony. Maurice is also an overwhelming, obsessive personality, but his obsession isn't Protestantism--even though he is a Lutheran--it's avenging percieved slights against himself. The present leading source of said slights is his cousin John Frederick, starting back when they were growing up together, and continuing with John Frederick's tendency to handle joint family matters unilaterally. Maurice is ready--nay, eager--to unleash some summary justice upon John Frederick's posterior. And so, he takes up the Emperor's furtive call to deal with the Elector. He gets some troops. He goes to Charles' brother Ferdinand, King of Bohemia, and borrows a few more troops. (To Ferdinand's credit, Maurice manages to suggest he's got more people backing him up on this then he really does.) And then--he attacks the Elector.
It does not go well for Maurice. He's one of the few Protestant German Princes NOT taking advantage of England's 'Loans If You Want To Screw Over The Emperor' program--indeed, he's one of the few who aren't a member of the Schmalkaldic League--while John Frederick is on their favored customers' list, especially as they need him coming out of this okay if they're ever going to get back the loans they made to Duke William. Even with his extra Bohemian troops, Maurice is badly outmatched, and as a result, he is defeated, and captured. After signing an agreement to hand over some of his lands to John Frederick as a consequence of his unwarranted attack, Maurice proceeds to sing like a bird, telling him all about how Charles put him up to it, with just touch of exagerration so that he can set himself up as the victim here. John Frederick has him put it down in writing, and then, after releasing him, goes to his fellow Schmalkaldic League members waving said confession around for all its worth. And that is plenty. Now, they know that Charles is plotting against them, hoping to tear them down one by one, and that the move against the Elector is the start of that. Whatever they may think of John Frederick, they cannot let this aggression stand. And so, even as Charles begins to see the light at the end of the tunnel for the present Italian War, the First Schmalkaldic War is only beginning...
--In Scotland, James V is dying. His nerves have been shot since his defeat, during which he's took a rather unpleasant wound that is now festering. He has seen the flower of Scotland's Catholic nobility cut down around him, and his dreams of being King of Scotland and England die with them. His only hope lies in his new child, being born miles away. He is doomed to another disappointment--Mary brings forth another girl, his second legitimate daughter, named Antoinette after Mary's mother. "So be it," says the King of Scotland weakly--or so the legend goes. "It began wi' a lass, it'll end wi' a lass." [3] With his death, the ruler of Scotland is a two-year old girl, whose immediate heir is a newborn baby girl. It's tough times ahead for Scotland.
--In England, young Thomas Tudor takes ill and dies a week later. A sweet-natured young boy, his death is taken hard by his mother and siblings, especially Edward, who will spend the rest of his life writing eulogies for his brother. King Henry is beyond caring. While he has surprised everyone by surviving to the end of the year, it is the barest sort of surviving--he sleeps most of the time, and when awake, is almost always incoherant, raving about 'monks'. He will die soon, with England technically at war with Scotland. And with the Duke of Norfolk having an army in the field. It's tough times ahead in England...
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[1] This is better than his IOTL death, which resulted from him falling off a chest.
[2] This is only slightly worse than his IOTL death, which was caused by his rushing into a house that had been sealed up with plague, having a pillowfight with his friends there, and by some accounts, lying down in a plague bed. You just can't butterfly away massive stupidity.
[3] What can I say? I just couldn't throw away last words that good. And James really does seem to have been... if not destined for misfortune, then a highly likely candidate for it.