1550
--We begin with the Papal Conclave. The French go into it expecting the usual competition--them versus the Emperor, with a few spoilers on the sidelines trying to broker deals. By Cardinal Charles de Guise's reckoning, they are fairly even, which means that their best hope for a French--or French-friendly Pope--is that some Imperial Cardinals are bribable.
It's not the usual competition. As the Cardinal writes back to Henri II, Emperor Charles' position in the Conclave is a shambles. His favored candidate is an unelectable Spaniard, and presently, the leading candidates are those he has signalled as inappropriate--Nicolo Ridolfi, Marcello Cervini degli Spannochi [1], and Giovanni Maria Ciocchi del Monte [2] in particular. The Empire's Cardinals are furious with the man for the most part--for the Peace of Augsburg, for his failure to stop Luther, for, even after all these years, the death of Reginald Pole, and for simply being him--and want to teach the Emperor a lesson, though what exactly is up in the air. This has not resulted in any unified effort, mind you--the last four ballots prior the majority of the French parties arrival have been inconclusive. [3] And so have the two that follow, as they test the waters. Cardinal Guise is overjoyed, and writes the King immediately. He puts it bluntly--Henri has been handed a golden opportunity. However, they'll have to move relatively quickly. Eventually this anger will dissipate, likely in the face of hefty bribes of Spanish gold.
On the next ballot, the French put all their strength behind one of Henri's favored choices, Georges d'Amboise. The result is startling--on the ballot after that, sensing a rush, several Italian cardinals overcome their reluctance to have a non-Italian Pope, and actually throw their support behind him, and on the next a few more do. Simply put--they may not like the idea of a French Pope, but if one's coming, they don't want to be one of the Cardinals who didn't vote for him. All this brings the hidden faction of Cardinal Alessandro Farnese, Paul's grandson, and wannabe King... urr, Popemaker, to the forefront. He manages to unite his faction and a few other Italians around Cardinal Niccolò Ridolfi. The immediate effect is another deadlock. While Farnesse hopes that this will ultimately grant Ridolfi the Holy See, these hopes are dashed when the old Cardinal dies. [4] While he makes efforts to get the Cardinals behind either Giovanni Maria Ciocchi del Monte or Marcello Cervini degli Spannochi, the entire incident proves disorientating and demoralizing. Further, the lengthy of the Conclave means that strict measures are being imposed on the Cardinals--indeed, that's part of what killed Ridolfi--and these threaten to make everyone... dangerously agreeable. Realizing that he must act soon--there are rumors that the French are going to try to put Queen Catherine's cousin Giovanni Salviati up in the next sounding, a man who will not only stand a good chance of getting it, but who the Cardinal's faction can't stand [5]--Cardinal Farnesse arranges a closed door sit-down with the French faction. And so the French and the Italians meet--and the French play their trump card. Naturally, they can understand that the Italians want to avoid having a French Pope... Avignon, and all that. And so they've got a nice little Italian candidate prepared--Cardinal Ippolito d'Este, Archbishop of Milan and Lyon, and Cardinal-Protector of France [6]. The Italians find this agreeable, and Ippolito, whose actually been making damn sure that he HASN'T shown up in the voting so far, makes his first appearance on the next ballot--a strong one, that only gets stronger as the voting continues. Eventually, after three soundings, he has the majority needed. It's been a lengthy conclave--but by late January, it looks like they've chosen their pope. [7]
Of course, it still lies within Charles' power to block this--but he's a bit low on political capital at the moment--and capital capital as well, actually--and doesn't know if this is the most effective thing to spend it on. Besides, d'Este quietly indicates to the Emperor that he finds the Peace of Augsburg acceptable and Charles knows from personal experience that the d'Estes are a pragmatic bunch. He can stop the election of this pope--but there's no guarantee that he'll get someone better, and a pretty good chance he'll get someone worse. And so Charles decides to grin and bear it. True, this man is a close friend of the French Royal family--but as Charles knows from personal experience, the Triple Crown changes men. And so, Ippolito d'Este is elected Pope. While a few wags joke that he's going to honor his grandfather and become Alexander VII [8], he chooses the safe Papal name of Pius IV, which everyone takes a symbol of caution and continuity.
So, what is Pope Pius IV like? Well, to begin with, he's a patron of the arts, whose spent--and will continue to spend--a fortune making his villa in Treviso a wonder to behold. He loves drinking, gambling, and living it up. In other words, the reformers and Spirtualiti who were shaking their heads about how Pope Paul turned out are actively banging their heads against the wall now. Pius has shown no interest in reform up to now--in fact, he's generally proven devoid of any theological opinions whatsoever, thus making the name choice rather ironic. And they are going to be stuck with him for awhile--Pius is a relatively young, vigorous man, troubled only by the occasional mild bout of gout. Still, it could be worse, they figure. Somehow.
--In Scotland, the French Ambassador writes to King Henri of meeting the young Queen and her sister Princess Antoinette at a party in Stirling Castle. It is a mixed report. While Mary Stuart is pretty, vivacious, and fairly intelligent, she is also rather unruly--the Ambassador writes that after greeting her guests graciously for half an hour, at a time when everyone's attention is elsewhere, a sudden scream draws it back on Mary and her sister. They find the girls grappling with each other, with Queen Mary--who is much larger then her little sister--pushing Antoinette to the floor and raining blows on her. The pair are swiftly seperated. The Guise brothers seize on this as more proof that the Queen needs civilizing, and that if she cannot be brought to France, perhaps France--or a reasonable portion of it--can be brought to her, in the form of tutors. Marie is apprehensive--Scotland's rapidly expanding population of Protestants are convinced she's plotting to institute the Counter-Reformation in the country. They look askance at any efforts to turn the young Queen against them--and French tutors might prove a weapon to do just that. While Marie does have hopes of protecting the Catholic Faith in Scotland, and perhaps even rolling back the Protestant heresy that's taken roots here, she is also well-aware of her delicate situation--surrounded by those heretics, who have the backing of a heretic king right next door, who her own king is trying very hard to stay friendly with. Add in the fallout of the Bloody Night, which has still left Marie with an aura of sinister impropriety, and the sudden replacement of fellow realist Anne with the unknown quantity that is her son, and you have a situation where Marie is justifiedly worried about offending anyone, even if in better circumstances she would be asking where she could sign up.
Unfortunately for her, her brothers don't really care. Claude de Guise, Duke of Aumale, is dispatched by his brothers, and family leaders Francois and Cardinal Charles to meet with their weak and erring sister and bring her in line with the family views--even though, as stated she is in line, and simply doesn't think this is the best time. Claude also brings an assortment of French tutors with him, all with the aim of making Mary Stuart--and Antoinette, as well--into proper little French Princesses.
English Ambassador Ralph Sadler also writes of the party--though he proves more sympathetic to Mary. Antoinette, he states, happens to have found out quite a few pertinent details about Mary's betrothed, and taken to repeatedly whispering "Crouchback" to her sister at opportune moments. It is simply another sign of the exceptionally warm relationship--think, house fire warm--that exists between the Stuart sisters. And of Antoinette's deep feelings for her sister, and her desire to keep her occupied...
Sadler also writes on the matter of the Earl of Angus' new wife, who turns out to be a somewhat familiar figure to the English court--the notorious Catherine Howard. While it's not clear exactly how the pair met--and Catherine will never give a straight answer on the matter, or how she even wound up in Scotland to begin with--it's fairly clear that Angus' "thoughts" on the marriage issued from an organ a bit lower than his brain. As for Catherine--she's an adventuress, plain and simple, though Sadler--and indeed, many others--think she's doing a little spying on the side for somebody. Who is a matter of some debate.
--In Bohemia, rumors that the new Pope is going to denounce the Peace mix with fears that Ferdinand is going to get on with the whole "Counter-Reformation" matter here, and result in mass uprisings by the nation's Protestants. Ferdinand, unable to raise reliable troops, swears up and down to Bohemian Protestants that they will remain the exception to the whole 'Prince's religion' matter. This ends the uprisings, but showcases the Hapsburgs increasingly weak hand in the HRE. Ferdinand writes to his brother--who is heading to Madrid to get Spanish troops for the war with the Valois he's pretty sure is coming up--telling him that if the Pope doesn't approve the Peace soon, he honestly has no idea what could happen. The Schmalkaldic League is interested in keeping the Peace, he notes, but their command of the Protestant rank and file is always a bit uncertain.
It's just another problem for Emperor Charles. Tired and old beyond his years, he has outlasted all his old rivals, save Sulieman--and yet sometimes it doesn't feel like it. His opponents laugh at him, and sense his weakness--a popular woodcut called "The New Atlas" that shows up on various anti-Imperial pamphlets depicts Charles as puny dwarf trying (unsuccessfully) to hold onto the world, even as his crown falls off. For Charles, the worst thing about the damned thing is that that is exactly how he feels much of the time these days. But--he has to keep at it. For now at least. In the meantime, he throws himself into preparations for the upcoming conflict with France--Henri is allowing the various talks they've been having on and off about the Duchy of Milan issue to fall apart, and Charles knows what that means--and trying to arrange his son's next marriage. Normally, he'd wait on that last bit, but truth be told, he's in a hurry these days, and if he leaves it to Philip, the boy would sigh, moon, and moan eternally about his lost love.
--Norfolk publishes the first part of Brutus, to the plaudits of England's literate public, and the future groans of as yet unborn generations of English schoolboys, who will spend hours copying passages from it and writing essays about it. With a story taken from Geoffrey of Monmouth, and embroidered liberally upon, it tells of Brutus, a descendent of Aeneas who is cast out of Alba Longa for the accidental killing of his father, due to the malice of the city's sinister Pontifex Maximus. (Obvious symbolism alert!) Brutus and his noble band of followers set out to build a place where they will lives free from oppression, as proper Trojans should. By the end of the first section, they still haven't gotten to what will be Britain, but they are fighting a war in Aquitaine. So it ends on a high note. Needless to say, Henry's court eats it up.
--Pope Pius starts his career by reopening the Council of Mantua, and offending most of Pope Paul's old partisans, first by announcing that he's okay with the Peace of Augsburg. Then, he offends them more by refusing to go along with a matter that the old Pope was looking into before his death, the excommunication of Henry IX. Pius is blunt on the last one--the entire matter of excommunicating Protestant Princes is little more than political theatre--'heat with no light', as he puts it. It doesn't bring the said Protestants back to Mother Church, crying to be forgiven, and it doesn't cause the nation's Catholics to rise as one and overthrow their heretic Prince. All it does is create bad feeling, and if anything, strengthen both the Protestants' resolve and position. Pius is all for excommunicating erring bishops and prince-bishops who don't stay in line with the Church--that works--but kings are another matter. He then states that he feels the Council's last set of decrees were somewhat--overzealous, and that in the Council's haste to denounce Luther they 'might have mistakenly denounced Christ as well'. He suggests walking them back ever so slightly. And then to cap it, he enthusiastically accepts the Jesuits, the weird little group of reformers that Paul III was championing off and on, to the discomfort of quite a few clerics.
Many of the Cardinals are... unsettled. They assumed they were getting a safe quantity with Pius, and instead... well, he's proving just a bit more radical than they thought he'd be. While few are quite as put out as Cardinal Giovanni Pietro Carafa [9], head of the Roman Inquisition, who reportedly declares 'Jesus help us, we've elected a Protestant!' during a private conversation, the whisperings are there. Pius pays no attention to them--he views his actions as fundamentally pragmatic. If there is a radical bent to them, this is because the Church's situation is grave, and requires extreme actions. The Protestants have proven they are no Albigesians, to be bludgeoned into submission--they are organized, they are widespread, and they have the dedicated support of powerful noblemen--even kings. The Church is going to have gear up for a long fight, and do their best to keep what they can and demonstrate to those whose faith is wavering that the Church understands their concerns before they even think of regaining lost ground. There is another matter here--Pius has grown up with the Reformation occuring and travelled in circles that have allowed him to meet people sympathetic to it. For him, it is not a horrific invasion of incomprehensible heretics, but a collection of people who for the most part mean well, though Pius sincerely believes they are mistaken on numerous matters. (There are other political factors at play here--for example, while Pius does have practical objections to the sort of excommunications Paul III trafficked in, he is also doing Henri a favor regarding his prospective son-in-law.) While the worst of them deserve a bit of... sternness, most he feels can be reasoned with.
However, not everyone disagrees with his actions. The Spirituali, who have been shaking their in heads in sad resignation, suddenly begin to get hopeful. Dying poet Marcantonio Flaminio says to a friend, "God has delivered us from the mouths of lions!" But most are more apprehensive. They've been burned before--Paul III spent much of his earlier Papacy offering tacit support, only to let the Church's most reactionary elements savage the Sprituali during the early sessions of the Council of Mantua. Still--this may be a good sign.
--In England, Henry gives his brother Edward, and his nephew Arthur Fitzroy places on the Council as high officers of the state. Arthur is given the position of Lord High Constable, seperated once more from the Crown, while Edward is made the Lord High Steward, filling an office that has more or less lain vacant. As yet, these are largely ceremonial positions, with little genuine authority--Arthur and Edward are there to learn how to help Henry govern. Arthur makes a quick impression on people, charming the older members with his quick wit, and easy charm. Edward on the other hand tends to keep to himself during meetings, often reading, and scribbling out poems during them. 'A quiet boy, if he is not spoken to, he does not speak, and when spoken to, he does not say much' notes William Paulet.
In other news, Princess Elizabeth departs for Wittensburg for her upcoming marriage, to acclimate her to her new home. Her husband-to-be is presently serving as his father's governor of Cleves, and awaits her arrival eagerly.
--King Henri is in a very good mood. The Hapsburgs are crumbling. He's actually managed to get a friend on the Papal Throne, and the latest news from Bohemia is just the icing on the cake. It's time to start the NEW ITALIAN WAR! Declaring that Charles' has dragged his feet on handing Henri is deserved title long enough, France's armies prepare for campaigns in Milan and Lorraine. Leading the armies in Lorraine will be transplanted native son, Francois de Guise--leading the armies in Milan, Henri's brother-in-law, Emmanuel Philibert de Savoie. Meanwhile, the Ottomans get ready to join in the fun, and Henri sends an invitation to the Schmalkaldic League and young King Henry in England, bidding them to join him in bringing the Emperor to heel. He also sounds Pope Pius, who assures him that while he cannot join the war directly--yet--he will give the official Papal sanction, as long as Henri doesn't do anything too embarassing.
Charles, busily preparing his troops in Spain, responds by having the aging, but still capable Andrea Dorea take to the sea to take care of the Barbary pirates and the Ottoman threat. Towards the end of the year, Dorea manages an inconclusive raid on Mahdiya. [10] By late September, there have been assorted skirmishes throughout Milanese territory, but nothing conclusive. The main fighting will begin next year.
In the meantime, Henri's efforts to gain allies bear mixed fruits. The Schmalkaldic League are in no mood to fight the Emperor at the moment. They just finished that up, AND got a pretty good deal from the man, and they don't want to scotch it. Still, they know that having France as a bargaining chip is a pretty good deal, so they try to stay out of the fight for now. Henry Tudor on the other hand, is eager to join the fight against the Hapsburgs--he's spent much of his life watching Emperor Charles take it on the oversized chin, and he can't wait to get his licks in. Naturally, if Anne were still calling the shots, England would be staying out of this--Anne came out of the last Italian War with the notion that the nation's best chance when France and Empire fight is to stay on the sidelines, and occasionally support a little mayhem. But this is Henry's show, and he's a young man surrounded by young men eager to prove themselves, and old men who think that England needs a bit of a real war. Plus, Henri is hinting if all goes well, he'll give the Low Countries to his daughter as a wedding gift. And so, Henry vows to join France in its fight against the overwheeming might of the Emperor...
--Claude de Guise arrives in Scotland, with a personal guard, and lots of French tutors. Meeting with his sister, the mild-mannered Duke is quickly won over to her point of view, and writes to his brothers, noting that with the forces surrounding her it's amazing she's managed to do what she has. He meets his nieces, and is charmed by both of them, though especially by Antoinette, who's learning early how to get on the good side of people with authority. And he gets everyone else in Scotland very worried.
Archibald Campbell, 5th Earl of Argyll, organizes a meeting on how to handle this clear Papist threat. Among those attending are Lord Ruthven, Lord Drummond, the Earl of Rothes, and perhaps most important of all, Mary's bastard half-brother, James Stewart. Also in attendence are English Ambassador Ralph Sadler, and a group of Protestant ministers fresh from England, dominated by "the two Johns"--John Willock and John Knox, Scots with heavy connections to the English Church. The Protestants are increasingly worried about a France-backed crackdown, or failing that, an effort to spirit 'the little Queen' away. There's a growing movement to have James assume the Regency--and possibly more--though he at the moment demurs. Sadler offers a promise of English support if, and only if, the French do something drastic--otherwise, he bids the lords to be patient. Rumors of this meeting reach the ears of Marie and her brother--who likewise decide to wait and see what happens--and the various Catholic lords, most of whom begin to quietly panic. The exception is the Earl of Angus. Feeling... reinvigorated by his marriage, and convinced that now is his hour, he begins to make inroads among his fellow Catholics, preparing to set himself up as the leader of the opposition. And then it all goes wrong.
James Hamilton, Earl of Arran, is a troubled young man--indeed, it would take a strong mind to take his father's horrific death with equanamity, and Arran's mind is far from that. In addition, he's a man of rather nebulous religious views, which means both Protestants and Catholics are trying to get him on their side, so he's hearing a lot of rumors meant to win him over, and being invited to a lot of parties. Among the rumors is that the Earl of Angus engineered the Bloody Night. Among the parties he's being invited to are those the Earl of Angus is holding. And--because naturally, the situation wasn't bad enough--at said parties, he happens to meet the new Countess of Angus, and is instantly smitten. Catherine encourages his attraction, partially out of vanity, and partially to pump him for the information everyone else is dumping into the poor young man. So, we have a young man of questionable mental stability who is in regular contact with a man he thinks murdered his father, and also happens to be in love with that man's wife. This is very not good.
The disaster that's been brewing finally boils over in late October at a gathering the Earl of Angus is holding. It is early in the evening when a scream from an alcove brings a large party there to discover the Countess holding her bleeding, unconscious husband, weeping in terror, with a bloody dagger lying on the ground. She states that the Earl of Arran approached her husband earlier requesting a few words in private, which the Earl agreed to. Catherine says that after waiting for her husband to rejoin the party, she at last went to their meeting spot, where she found the Earl in the piteous condition he is now in. While there are numerous gaps in her story, no one can find Arran and the dagger does seem to have been his. A manhunt for the missing Earl begins, which only intensifies when the Earl of Angus expires from his wounds, having never regained consciousness. As he has left no male heirs, the title 'Earl of Angus' is taken by his nephew, David Douglas.
Catherine Howard emerges from all this an object of some suspect, something her subsequent behavior does not help. Facing a great deal of hostility from her in-laws--many of whom doubt the validity--or even the existence--of her marriage to the Earl, she claims at first to be pregnant. This gives her a little breathing space, which she promptly uses to abscond with a great deal of finery, money, and jewels--some of which the Earl actually gave to her before his untimely death. For many, this strongly suggests she played a more active role in the Earl's death than she let on--rumors circle that either Angus found her at an assignation with Arran, or that she engineered the whole assasination. Whatever the truth, Miss Howard has once again been tangled up in a murder--though this one will prove far, far more significant than that earlier affair...
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[1] IOTL, he was Pope Marcellus II, selected in the conclave that followed this one.
[2] IOTL, he was selected at this conclave, and became Pope Julius III.
[3] Charles' position was much stronger IOTL, and he nearly succeeded in getting his second choice in. That second choice--was Reginald Pole.
[4] He died IOTL too--this Conclave was merciless to several of the older Cardinals, for reasons that will be made clear shortly.
[5] Catherine was pitching for him to be the French compromise candidate IOTL. This didn't happen, largely because Henri II never listened to his wife if he could help it.
[6] This was the French plan IOTL, though they never got around to it--indeed, with the deck stacked against them, they more or less muddled through and made sure Pole wouldn't get the office.
[7] The IOTL conclave was slightly longer, lasting into early Febuary.
[8] Ippolito's maternal grandfather is THE Rodrigo Borgia. His mother is THE Lucrezia Borgia. And while I'm at it, his father is THE Alfonso d'Este.
[9] IOTL, he became Pope Paul IV.
[10] This happened IOTL, though it was more in preparation for war, than part of it.
