Philip has not passed him over as heir. He's just... delaying matters. That stated he does appreciate having Infante Fernando around as a potential... substitute...
"Now Blooms the Tudor Rose."
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Philip has not passed him over as heir. He's just... delaying matters. That stated he does appreciate having Infante Fernando around as a potential... substitute...
"The reignition of active conflict in the Hapsburg-Valois War saw the continuation of another feud--one which would not only outlast, but ultimately surpass the one that had birthed and nurtured it. The bad blood between the houses of Wettin and Guise would in time give rise to wars, murders, and conflict around the world. But that was yet to come. For now, it was simply a struggle between two men--the Elector of Saxony, and the Duke of Guise. Neither realized that for one, it would mark the end not only of the conflict, but of his life..."
Achilles: Rise and Fall of a Colossus, by Pierre Lagarde (1978)
1557--Part 1
--It is time to turn once again to Scotland, which has been fairly calm over the last year. It is still a time of regeneration and renewal, as the nation recovers from the side-effects of years of war and civil upheaval. Mary Stewart continues her adroit balancing act, supporting Protestant reform while respecting Catholic freedom--and even more impressively, doing so while remaining (at least nominally) a Catholic herself. While most of the country loves the Young Queen--no one calls her 'the Wee Queen' anymore, as, at nearly 6' she towers over most of her ministers[1]--the fact remains there is an... uneasiness in the air. Most Protestants--who are certain the Queen is far more on their side than she lets on--wait for the day when they can finish up what they started, and make Scotland the Reformed Church's answer to Evangelical Denmark. Many Catholics--who are certain that the Queen is far more on their side than she lets on--wait for the day when the Queen, free of her sinister ministers, can bring back the Old Faith.
And there are other issues--with the main line gone, the remaining Douglases are quietly fighting for the leadership position. As they lie rather uncomfortably close to Stirling, and have just demonstrated what a problem they can be, Mary names a new Earl of Angus--her half-brother, James--and grants him Tantallon Castle, with a writ to "establish the Queen's law" in the area. While this does help matters, many Douglases are resentful of being lorded over by a Stewart--and a bastard Stewart at that. The year will see the hardening of a Douglas opposition. Further, they aren't the only opposition. As time goes on, some Protestants will become ever more sure that Mary needs to be MADE to step up the progress of the Reformation--among their leaders is one of her other half-brothers, Robert Stewart.[2] (James V had bastards the way many men have pets, and they lightly litter the Scottish political landscape.) Robert is not the charismatic, accomplished politician James, the newly-minted Earl of Angus, is--however, he wishes he was, and that makes him ambitious at times.
Catholic opposition is likewise hardening, though it is having a harder time solidifying around a leader, largely due to there being two significant candidates, both of whom have a tendency to jump up and down while shouting "me, ME, ME!!!" Princess Antoinette Stuart is the obvious choice--as opposed to her sister, whose religion is best summed up as "Catholic as long as you don't force her to take a stand", Antoinette is a dedicated member of the Old Faith. While this and being the heir presumptive would make her the natural rallying point for Catholic opposition, there are several little problems. Antoinette is even younger than her sister, and seems to feel that the best way to become such a figure is to make herself the anti-Mary. Thus she has staked out several very unpopular positions, most notably rabid support for the French and the Auld Alliance to oppose Mary's quiet movement away from Paris' orbit. All this doesn't help her--and Antoinette's overall personality is another flaw--imperious, capricious and vindictive. Of course, Mary has that side to her personality as well--indeed, every monarch in Europe has that side--but a life spent dancing to the tune of court politics have instructed her to the realities of her situation, and she understands the nicities of proper ettiquette, as well as the simple fact that other people must be treated with respect unless they show themselves to be worth none. Antoinette has never managed to have that realization, while her political training is best summed up as 'watching her sister do it, and being sure she could do it better'. All in all, it adds up to a rather unpromising political leader.
Unfortunately, her most significant rival for Catholic affection isn't any better, and in fact is arguably a great deal worse. Charles Stuart, Earl of Lennox, is ten years old, and largely under the thumb of his domineering mother, Margaret Douglas. Margaret holds great ambitions for her son, and quite a few grievances against her cousins, the Tudors, some of which are justified, others of which are not.[3] This has all seeped down into Charles, who has become that dangerous blend of egotistical and stupid that often causes wars when it's blended with royal blood and questionable claims to thrones. Margaret and her illegitimate half-brother George[4] (who feels he should be Earl of Angus, but that's another story) both spend their time loudly championing Charles' "rights" which are suitably nebulous enough that they may expanded upon when necessary. With these as their potential champions, most Catholics are coughing and wondering if they really need to rock the boat that much.
In other news, while Mary has yet to formally end her engagement with Charles Valois, most of Europe senses it's coming, and she's already getting new proposals. The eternally hopeful Erik, Duke of Kalmar presses his suit, as does his eternal rival Prince Frederick of Denmark. Spanish emissaries ask if she's willing to swap one deformed Prince named Charles for ANOTHER deformed Prince named Charles who is, at least, not French. Imperial ambassadors suggest that if that Charles Hapsburg isn't up to snuff, then perhaps the not-deformed-at-all Charles Francis Hapsburg would work. As Mary mulls these proposals over, many of her fellow Scots are heavily suggesting she marry a Scot, or if that is unacceptable, an English Lord. The Bloody Years were harsh, and most feel that Scotland needs to avoid foreign entanglements, especially those that potentially involve having them invade England.
--Crossing a rather smallish sea, in Ireland, the fallout from the scuffle with the Originalists continues to perculate. The English attempt to find out where "Daniel O'Farrell" has vanished to--however, this search is hampered by the same problems that hamper everything the English do in Ireland--poor administration, loose control, and a certain unwillingness to understand the facts on the ground. For example, the obvious thing to do would be to question his past associates--however, nobody in Ireland can recall who they were, and they never consider asking if anybody back in London does. Instead, what happens is a lot of random flailing around, pointless arrests and going in circles that manages to remind people just why they don't like having the English around. Meanwhile, many Originalists circulate throughout English territory, completely unimpeded by the authorities and indeed, often assisted by them. It is understood, after all, that they are tasked to encourage the development of Protestantism in Ireland, and the Originalists don't go around wearing signs that say 'Hello! We are Radical Anabaptistic Miltants Seeking To Overthrow English Rule! Ask About Our Church!' "Be as innocent as lambs, and as subtle as serpents," their master has said, and they do so, aided by the fact that the English have no idea how bad the situation is. They see this as one rogue preacher and his motely band of followers. While the Originalists remain a minority, there are far more of them then the English realize--and more and more Irish view the new faith, if not favorably, then sympathetically.
Turning to the man himself, Donal o Fearghail and his loyal band traipse through the North, hoping to gather followers. This is a weighty task--Northern Ireland is the focal point for Irish Catholicism at the moment. Further, it is the stomping ground of the formidable and truculent O'Neill Clan, regular problem-causers for English rule. Presently the family is having something of a leadership dispute--caused in part by the late Thomas Cromwell's policy of 'surrender and regrant', which has left the already muddled Irish inheritance laws even more muddled. Officially, the heads of the Clans are now English nobles, and their succession is supposed to be following English laws of primogeniture--however, many Clans still follow the old tradition of selection and acclaim. Needless to say, this results in trouble when the former suggests one head, and the latter suggests another. In the case of the O'Neils, by English law, Matthew O'Neill has been the head since the death of his father Conn last year[5]--however, the charismatic firebrand Shane O'Neill ('Sean o Neill' in Gaelic) enjoys the support of most clansmen. Shane claims that Matthew is a bastard--possibly not even an O'Neill--and even worse an English puppet, and that by all rights he is father's one true heir. Indeed, Shane is such a force that the English have more or less accepted that he's the real power in the family, abandoning their ally Matthew to his fate.[6] Much of northern politics revolves around this dispute at the moment--the rest revolves around a thousand petty feuds.
But for now dealing with the O'Neils remain a background detail for Fearghail. One day, he will have to come to an arrangement with them. But not yet. For now he gathers followers where he may. The most notable convert he makes at this point is Grace O'Malley, aka Granouile, a powerful Irish landowner and occasional pirate[7]. While she is more a sympathiser and fellow traveller than a true Originalist, she is a good sign of the new faith's gaining power in the higher circles of Irish society. And yet, he is starting to butt heads in those same circles, in no small part due to those afore-mentioned thousand petty feuds. This is the great problem Fearghail and his Originalists will face--Ireland may be one land, but it is in many ways a few hundred small states, most of which hate each other as much as they hate the English, and the rest of which hate each other MORE then they hate the English. A man like Fearghail may dream of a free Ireland, returned to its "true" customs but even he has no idea what that would actually look like, though that hasn't stopped him from pretending he does.
--In Rome, two significant events occur early in the year, one which attracts a great deal of notice, the other which doesn't. The first is the death of Cardinal Marcello Cervini, Pius' former rival turned supporter[8]. The elderly reformer has lived to oversee many of the changes he wished to make in the Catholic Church come to pass with others on the way. Pius and the Council of Mantua all mourn the death of their colleague--the funeral will indeed prove something of a touchstone in the years ahead. Pius--still a fairly young man--has seen many of his older colleagues die over the last few years, among them his other former rival papal candidate, the mildly embarassing Cardinal Ciocchi[9]--and he will see many more in the years to come. Still Church business must continue. The earnest young Carlo Borromeo is evelated to the Cardinalcy, and granted Pius' old position of Archbishop of Milan. Borromeo will champion many innovations, such as using the Confessional to encourage more moral and desirious behavior--including a instructing mothers to make sure their babies are put to sleep in their cribs, instead of in bed with their parents, in an effort to cut down on infant suffocation deaths.[10]
The second event, as noted, does not attract much notice--but this is by the design of those involved in it. In the catacombs, where Christians once gathered to practice their faith in secret, a group of priests and laymen secretly form the Society for Purity and Correctness in Doctrine. A group of frothing at the mouth archconservatives in the mold of Cardinal Carafa and his inner circle, the Society doesn't like the way the Church has been going, and they've decided to do something about it. Pius and the Council of Mantua are heretics, and even worse, they have been aiding even greater heretics, the Protestant Princes. Having thus declared themselves more Catholic than the Pope, the Society members vow to never rest until a "Pure and Correct" man is Pope, every Protestant King and Prince has either returned to the Faith,or been overthrown, and all the world is united under the "Pure and Correct" Catholic Church. Needless to say, with goals like that, they plan to be at this for awhile.
The Society--who later Church historians with a knowledge of past heresies and a twisted sense of humor will dub "the Cathars", a name that will not only stick, but be taken up by the Society's descendents--names Carafa its spiritual head. Carafa is unaware of this fact, being much too busy being in ill health and continuing work on his by now massive, rambling case for removing Pius as Pope to attend secret meetings in dank catacombs. If he did know, he would not be pleased--while he might approve of the Cathars' dedication and general goals, their attempts to correct the Church from the outside would strike him as far too close to the Protestants they claim to oppose. Indeed, for all their talk of purity the Cathars are very much the product of their age, being almost exactly the sort of group that enfolds both priests and layfolk that the Pietean program tries to inspire, except for the whole 'wanting to unseat Pope Pius and destroy the Council of Mantua' matter. The fact is, much like Luther before him, Pius has left such an indelible mark on the world that even his enemies are unconsciously imitating his ideas. (Or more exactly, the ideas Pius has appropriated from others and chosen to promote.)
--In England, Princess Margaret prepares for trip to Transylvania to meet her husband-to-be. Arthur Fitzroy and his wife welcome their first child into the world, a young girl named Mary Anne. And that's not the only pregnancy in the Tudor extended family--Edward's bride Barbara of Hesse is expecting as well. Barbara is learning to cope with her often icy husband, mostly by looking on the bright side--he is absolutely faithful to her, albeit mostly from his general unsociable nature than any affection. (William Paulet is fond of noting that he sometimes think that the Duke of York would prefer it if England existed only on paper and account books.) As the daughter of Philip of Hesse could tell you, fidelity is always a thing to treasure when you find it.
--In Prague, the news is out--Archduke Ferdinand, as expected, has gotten a mistress. Her name is Philippine Wesler--of the Augsburg Weslers, a major banking family--and Ferdinand has not only started an affair with her, but bought a small house for her to live in[11]. He regularly escapes to it, and there the couple... well, essentially act as if they were just a pair of normal people, in a normal relationship. The problem, of course, is that Ferdinand the Younger ISN'T a normal person--he's the King of the Romans and almost certainly the next Holy Roman Emperor. He has duties, both dynastic and social. What's more, Philippine isn't some woman of questionable virtue of the sort his uncle Charles associated with after the death of his wife--she's the daughter of a family of influential commoners, and that means that things will have to be... seen to. Needless to say, once the news reaches the ears of Emperor Ferdinand he decides to have a chat with his son, a decision that is only furthered when his weeping niece/daughter-in-law comes to him after SHE hears the rumors. And so father and son have a talk.
To Ferdinand Senior's surprise, his son is surprisingly candid about the entire thing. He is sorry for the trouble he is causing, but his marriage to Maria of Spain is loveless on both sides, and it is destroying him. He is willing to do what he can for the family, but he must have something of his own, or he will break. It is questionable that Ferdinand would be persuaded by this argument if it had been the late Maximilian or young Charles Francis making it--but his namesake has always been his favorite. And so, Ferdinand agrees that he will allow his son to keep his mistress, with the understanding that the Archduke will be discreet and... resume his nuptial duties with his wife.
And with that the matter is--well, not resolved, but understood to have reached a conclusion. Archduke Ferdinand has a mistress, and he prefers her to his wife. The Protestant Princes make loud noises of the moral bankruptcy of the Hapsburgs, but this tends to turn eyes towards active bigamist Philip of Hesse, so they promptly shut up. The young Hapsburg proves as good as his word, and begins to resume visits to his wife's bed. As for Maria of Spain, she isn't happy about this, but a little chat from her beloved uncle/Father-in-law has her agreeing to take one for Team Hapsburg.
The side-effect of this little... household arrangment are, obviously, going to be very far-reaching. In fact, historians are still going to be debating them centuries into the future.
--Turning to the affairs of another Hapsburg, former Emperor Charles has been ailing more than usual of late, and this has made him sentimental. While he's gotten most of his affairs in order, there is one he feels he hasn't--his illegitimate son, Jeromin.[12] And so he arranges to have the boy brought to him, so he can see his son, and make sure that he's provided for. The first meeting is pleasant enough to have the former Emperor write instructions to King Philip to make sure the boy is taken care of after he's gone. (He's rather hoping his bastard takes a career in the Church. Many future historians will find this highly ironic considering what will occur later in his life. But that is yet to come...) And it is soon followed by others.
Rumors of this quickly reach the Court, and causes the ongoing "Carlos Primo" deathwatch to move into overdrive. Needless to say, when young Charles hears news of this, he begins to plot in double time to reach his grandfather's side. It gives him something to occupy himself with aside from how much he hates his new overseers, Ruy Gomez and his wife. Taking his cue from most courtiers, he refers to the former as "Rey Gomez" occasionally to his face--the latter he dubs "Madame Polyphemus"--'for she has but one eye, and devours men,' Charles notes to his cousin Ferdinand. Charles is not alone in hating them--the Prince of Eboli is seen as an ambitious outsider and shameless social climber, while the Princess is viewed as a rather unpleasant and tempermental woman, much given to intrigues. Charles' brother, the Infante Fernando, remains in good health, doted on by his mother, his nurses, and yes, even his odd elder brother.
--And now we head over to the Baltic tangle--King Sigismund Augustus of Poland gathers his troops and marches into Livonia. Von Furstenberg does his best, but this isn't the tiny forces of the Archbishop of Riga, and so the Livonian Order finally falls. It is largely dissolved, and replaced by the Livonian Dominions, a loose-knit group of landholdings and bishophorics that owe vasallage to Poland. This would be a great victory for the nation--except for one little detail.
Ivan IV of Russia has many ties to the Order, ties which he has chosen to interpet as being their overlord. And thus, he views the Order's de facto dissolution and treaty with Poland-Lithuania as a violation of their treaties with him. And so, he declares war on the Dominions as well as Poland and Lithuania. Sigismund has been expecting this, and contacts Denmark and Sweden. While the two Scandinavian nations hate each other, they both prefer Poland to Russia. Gustav I of Sweden however is reluctant to join the war. The insanely bold man who snatched the throne of Sweden away from Copenhagen is tired and old now. He wishes to make certain that his kingdom is in order for his son's Erik's ascension to the throne. Christian III is more confident. Land gained in the Dominions will help ensure Denmark's hold over the Baltics.
And so begins the Livonian War.[13] It will last for a little over two decades, involve all major Baltic nations, and outlast all of the monarchs involved in it when it started, and in most cases, their immediate heirs. When it is finished, everyone will wonder why they bothered in the first place, with the exception of the one bastard who's benefited from it, and even he will think his rivals were saps.
--Turning to the Italian War--the naval forces of Genoa and Corsica fight a battle with the Dorias' Sardinian Navy, much of which used to be the Genoese navy. The outnumbered forces of Sardinia manage a narrow victory, thanks in no small part due to the impressive leadership of Giovanni Andrea Doria. However, it is a Pyrric victory--the Sardinian forces on Corsica are wiped out, leaving the overall advantage in the war to the Corsicans, who still have forces under the leadership of the fearsome Sampieru Corfu on Sardinia itself. Of course, not everything is good news for the Corsicans--their leader Orsini has perished in the naval battle, but they remain optimistic.
--In France, Duke Francois sets out to confront his rival at St. Quentin with the best forces France can muster at the moment. This isn't much--France is, again, broke--but de Guise has attempted to make up for it by gathering a force of capable, battle-hardened veterans. The plan is to besiege St. Quentin and reclaim it from the Elector--sadly, it collapses the moment it confronts the enemy, as plans are wont to do. In this case, John Frederick has full knowledge of the French plans, thanks to the lengthy delay in implements de Guise's design. And this has made a significant difference, for the Elector of Saxony prefers not to base his defense on being holed down in a fortress. No, John Frederick prefers a more active defense. And so Francois de Guise's army finds itself walking into an ambush in what will be seen as one of the definitive moments of the so-called "Saxon" school of tactics.
(If I may be allowed an aside--later military historians will be split on whether John Frederick is a military genius of the first water who redefined war or a reckless gambler who simply had a long, long lucky streak. Many place him somewhere in the middle--a highly capable leader whose tactics were based on the forces he had, and the conditions he faced, and thus should not be seen as having a general military application. Certainly quite a few generals in the future will cut their forces to ribbons trying to duplicate the sort of ambushes John Frederick will make his speciality.)
Guise's troops are already somewhat demoralized, and are caught completely flat-footed by the ambush--still, they manage a decent showing. However, after several hours, it becomes clear that the Elector's forces are winning. The Duke is furious at being shown up by John Frederick yet again when he spies the Elector at a distance. (Not hard to do--a typical German Prince, John Frederick insists on cutting a dashing figure in war, and thus goes about the battlefield on a large white stallion, wearing an elaborate red and white cape.) After noting, with usual French severity, what a dandy the Elector looks like, Francois, filled with a mixture of hatred and desperation, decides to attempt to change the course of the battle, and charges at his foe. Unfortunately for the Duke, the Elector not only looks dashing, he is dashing, and after a brief clash, Guise is lying bleeding in the mud. After discovering, to his immense surprise, that he has just cut down the Duke of Guise, John Frederick orders his foe to be taken to his tent, and treated by his doctor. With their leader downed, the French forces retreat in disorder, with many surrendering. Despite recieving the best medical attention the Elector can grant him, Francois de Guise dies that night. History does not record his last words--some say in fact that he was unconscious the entire time--but popular legend does, and in fact grants them a rather mythical importance....
--SCENE FROM: 'THE ROSE KNIGHT' (1937)
An elaborate tent. JOHN FREDERICK enters, dressed in armor. FRANCOIS DE GUISE lays on a bed, clearly ill and dying. His eyes snap open as John Frederick stands by his bedside.
G: So you came.
John Frederick shrugs.
JF: I heard you wished to speak to me. (Glances around awkwardly.) Are you sure you do not want a priest?
G: You would grant me one, heretic?
JF: The dying deserve comfort, whatever their faith.
Guise lets out a bitter laugh.
G: Save me your empty pieties, Saxon. I do not need them. (He coughs.) I wish you to know I accept my damnation willingly, in the hopes of meeting your Godless soul in HELL!
JF: You hate me that much?
G: Hate? Hate? I despise you, Saxon! I despise your German ways, and your German religion! You and yours have upset the proper order, and you have been the ruin of me! (He sits up suddenly, with almost frantic energy.) Listen to me, Saxon! Listen to my dying vow! There shall be eternal hatred between our two houses! It shall not end until mine destroy the very last of yours, or yours destroy the very last of mine! Thus shall it be until the Lord makes the world anew! There can be no peace between Guise and Wettin! (He begins to cough furiously.) No... peace! (And with that he falls back onto the bed, dead.)
-----------------------
[1] Her OTL counterpart was this tall as well.
[2] Historically, Robert was the 1st Earl of Orkney in the Second Creation.
[3] IOTL, Margaret got into trouble for twice getting involved with Howards--something similar happened ITTL, and while it didn't go as badly, what with a more secure succession and the Boleyn-Howards not being disgraced, Henry VIII was still not particularly pleasant about the matter.
[4] IOTL, George became Bishop of Moray in 1581.
[5] Conn--the First Earl of Tyrone--died in 1559, IOTL. Butterflies have caused his death a few years earlier here.
[6] IOTL, Matthew--father of the famed Hugh O'Neill--was murded by Shane before their father died--that said, the English response was about the same.
[7] Granouile is a historical figure, often turned into a hero of Irish independence. This is based on her general badassedness, and is in fact rather ironic, as, aside from being a woman, O'Malley was a rather typical petty Irish lord, and perfectly happy going to the English when she had a land dispute that needed solving.
[8] He died of a stroke in 1555 after a few months as Pope. His death seems to have been caused by the rigors of Papal ceremony--thus he manages a few more years ITTL.
[9] He also died in 1555 IOTL--in fact he was the Pope whose death caused the election that made Marcello Pontiff.
[10] Those readers expecting me to state that yes, he did the same thing IOTL--give yourself a gold star.
[11] IOTL, his first, morganatic wife.
[12] Yes, it's John of Austria. Obviously, not quite our John of Austria, as he was born significantly after the POD--but come on, what can you expect me to do? It's freaking John of Austria!
[13] So far, this has all pretty much been IOTL. Of course, all that's going to change... soon.
Achilles: Rise and Fall of a Colossus, by Pierre Lagarde (1978)
1557--Part 1
--It is time to turn once again to Scotland, which has been fairly calm over the last year. It is still a time of regeneration and renewal, as the nation recovers from the side-effects of years of war and civil upheaval. Mary Stewart continues her adroit balancing act, supporting Protestant reform while respecting Catholic freedom--and even more impressively, doing so while remaining (at least nominally) a Catholic herself. While most of the country loves the Young Queen--no one calls her 'the Wee Queen' anymore, as, at nearly 6' she towers over most of her ministers[1]--the fact remains there is an... uneasiness in the air. Most Protestants--who are certain the Queen is far more on their side than she lets on--wait for the day when they can finish up what they started, and make Scotland the Reformed Church's answer to Evangelical Denmark. Many Catholics--who are certain that the Queen is far more on their side than she lets on--wait for the day when the Queen, free of her sinister ministers, can bring back the Old Faith.
And there are other issues--with the main line gone, the remaining Douglases are quietly fighting for the leadership position. As they lie rather uncomfortably close to Stirling, and have just demonstrated what a problem they can be, Mary names a new Earl of Angus--her half-brother, James--and grants him Tantallon Castle, with a writ to "establish the Queen's law" in the area. While this does help matters, many Douglases are resentful of being lorded over by a Stewart--and a bastard Stewart at that. The year will see the hardening of a Douglas opposition. Further, they aren't the only opposition. As time goes on, some Protestants will become ever more sure that Mary needs to be MADE to step up the progress of the Reformation--among their leaders is one of her other half-brothers, Robert Stewart.[2] (James V had bastards the way many men have pets, and they lightly litter the Scottish political landscape.) Robert is not the charismatic, accomplished politician James, the newly-minted Earl of Angus, is--however, he wishes he was, and that makes him ambitious at times.
Catholic opposition is likewise hardening, though it is having a harder time solidifying around a leader, largely due to there being two significant candidates, both of whom have a tendency to jump up and down while shouting "me, ME, ME!!!" Princess Antoinette Stuart is the obvious choice--as opposed to her sister, whose religion is best summed up as "Catholic as long as you don't force her to take a stand", Antoinette is a dedicated member of the Old Faith. While this and being the heir presumptive would make her the natural rallying point for Catholic opposition, there are several little problems. Antoinette is even younger than her sister, and seems to feel that the best way to become such a figure is to make herself the anti-Mary. Thus she has staked out several very unpopular positions, most notably rabid support for the French and the Auld Alliance to oppose Mary's quiet movement away from Paris' orbit. All this doesn't help her--and Antoinette's overall personality is another flaw--imperious, capricious and vindictive. Of course, Mary has that side to her personality as well--indeed, every monarch in Europe has that side--but a life spent dancing to the tune of court politics have instructed her to the realities of her situation, and she understands the nicities of proper ettiquette, as well as the simple fact that other people must be treated with respect unless they show themselves to be worth none. Antoinette has never managed to have that realization, while her political training is best summed up as 'watching her sister do it, and being sure she could do it better'. All in all, it adds up to a rather unpromising political leader.
Unfortunately, her most significant rival for Catholic affection isn't any better, and in fact is arguably a great deal worse. Charles Stuart, Earl of Lennox, is ten years old, and largely under the thumb of his domineering mother, Margaret Douglas. Margaret holds great ambitions for her son, and quite a few grievances against her cousins, the Tudors, some of which are justified, others of which are not.[3] This has all seeped down into Charles, who has become that dangerous blend of egotistical and stupid that often causes wars when it's blended with royal blood and questionable claims to thrones. Margaret and her illegitimate half-brother George[4] (who feels he should be Earl of Angus, but that's another story) both spend their time loudly championing Charles' "rights" which are suitably nebulous enough that they may expanded upon when necessary. With these as their potential champions, most Catholics are coughing and wondering if they really need to rock the boat that much.
In other news, while Mary has yet to formally end her engagement with Charles Valois, most of Europe senses it's coming, and she's already getting new proposals. The eternally hopeful Erik, Duke of Kalmar presses his suit, as does his eternal rival Prince Frederick of Denmark. Spanish emissaries ask if she's willing to swap one deformed Prince named Charles for ANOTHER deformed Prince named Charles who is, at least, not French. Imperial ambassadors suggest that if that Charles Hapsburg isn't up to snuff, then perhaps the not-deformed-at-all Charles Francis Hapsburg would work. As Mary mulls these proposals over, many of her fellow Scots are heavily suggesting she marry a Scot, or if that is unacceptable, an English Lord. The Bloody Years were harsh, and most feel that Scotland needs to avoid foreign entanglements, especially those that potentially involve having them invade England.
--Crossing a rather smallish sea, in Ireland, the fallout from the scuffle with the Originalists continues to perculate. The English attempt to find out where "Daniel O'Farrell" has vanished to--however, this search is hampered by the same problems that hamper everything the English do in Ireland--poor administration, loose control, and a certain unwillingness to understand the facts on the ground. For example, the obvious thing to do would be to question his past associates--however, nobody in Ireland can recall who they were, and they never consider asking if anybody back in London does. Instead, what happens is a lot of random flailing around, pointless arrests and going in circles that manages to remind people just why they don't like having the English around. Meanwhile, many Originalists circulate throughout English territory, completely unimpeded by the authorities and indeed, often assisted by them. It is understood, after all, that they are tasked to encourage the development of Protestantism in Ireland, and the Originalists don't go around wearing signs that say 'Hello! We are Radical Anabaptistic Miltants Seeking To Overthrow English Rule! Ask About Our Church!' "Be as innocent as lambs, and as subtle as serpents," their master has said, and they do so, aided by the fact that the English have no idea how bad the situation is. They see this as one rogue preacher and his motely band of followers. While the Originalists remain a minority, there are far more of them then the English realize--and more and more Irish view the new faith, if not favorably, then sympathetically.
Turning to the man himself, Donal o Fearghail and his loyal band traipse through the North, hoping to gather followers. This is a weighty task--Northern Ireland is the focal point for Irish Catholicism at the moment. Further, it is the stomping ground of the formidable and truculent O'Neill Clan, regular problem-causers for English rule. Presently the family is having something of a leadership dispute--caused in part by the late Thomas Cromwell's policy of 'surrender and regrant', which has left the already muddled Irish inheritance laws even more muddled. Officially, the heads of the Clans are now English nobles, and their succession is supposed to be following English laws of primogeniture--however, many Clans still follow the old tradition of selection and acclaim. Needless to say, this results in trouble when the former suggests one head, and the latter suggests another. In the case of the O'Neils, by English law, Matthew O'Neill has been the head since the death of his father Conn last year[5]--however, the charismatic firebrand Shane O'Neill ('Sean o Neill' in Gaelic) enjoys the support of most clansmen. Shane claims that Matthew is a bastard--possibly not even an O'Neill--and even worse an English puppet, and that by all rights he is father's one true heir. Indeed, Shane is such a force that the English have more or less accepted that he's the real power in the family, abandoning their ally Matthew to his fate.[6] Much of northern politics revolves around this dispute at the moment--the rest revolves around a thousand petty feuds.
But for now dealing with the O'Neils remain a background detail for Fearghail. One day, he will have to come to an arrangement with them. But not yet. For now he gathers followers where he may. The most notable convert he makes at this point is Grace O'Malley, aka Granouile, a powerful Irish landowner and occasional pirate[7]. While she is more a sympathiser and fellow traveller than a true Originalist, she is a good sign of the new faith's gaining power in the higher circles of Irish society. And yet, he is starting to butt heads in those same circles, in no small part due to those afore-mentioned thousand petty feuds. This is the great problem Fearghail and his Originalists will face--Ireland may be one land, but it is in many ways a few hundred small states, most of which hate each other as much as they hate the English, and the rest of which hate each other MORE then they hate the English. A man like Fearghail may dream of a free Ireland, returned to its "true" customs but even he has no idea what that would actually look like, though that hasn't stopped him from pretending he does.
--In Rome, two significant events occur early in the year, one which attracts a great deal of notice, the other which doesn't. The first is the death of Cardinal Marcello Cervini, Pius' former rival turned supporter[8]. The elderly reformer has lived to oversee many of the changes he wished to make in the Catholic Church come to pass with others on the way. Pius and the Council of Mantua all mourn the death of their colleague--the funeral will indeed prove something of a touchstone in the years ahead. Pius--still a fairly young man--has seen many of his older colleagues die over the last few years, among them his other former rival papal candidate, the mildly embarassing Cardinal Ciocchi[9]--and he will see many more in the years to come. Still Church business must continue. The earnest young Carlo Borromeo is evelated to the Cardinalcy, and granted Pius' old position of Archbishop of Milan. Borromeo will champion many innovations, such as using the Confessional to encourage more moral and desirious behavior--including a instructing mothers to make sure their babies are put to sleep in their cribs, instead of in bed with their parents, in an effort to cut down on infant suffocation deaths.[10]
The second event, as noted, does not attract much notice--but this is by the design of those involved in it. In the catacombs, where Christians once gathered to practice their faith in secret, a group of priests and laymen secretly form the Society for Purity and Correctness in Doctrine. A group of frothing at the mouth archconservatives in the mold of Cardinal Carafa and his inner circle, the Society doesn't like the way the Church has been going, and they've decided to do something about it. Pius and the Council of Mantua are heretics, and even worse, they have been aiding even greater heretics, the Protestant Princes. Having thus declared themselves more Catholic than the Pope, the Society members vow to never rest until a "Pure and Correct" man is Pope, every Protestant King and Prince has either returned to the Faith,or been overthrown, and all the world is united under the "Pure and Correct" Catholic Church. Needless to say, with goals like that, they plan to be at this for awhile.
The Society--who later Church historians with a knowledge of past heresies and a twisted sense of humor will dub "the Cathars", a name that will not only stick, but be taken up by the Society's descendents--names Carafa its spiritual head. Carafa is unaware of this fact, being much too busy being in ill health and continuing work on his by now massive, rambling case for removing Pius as Pope to attend secret meetings in dank catacombs. If he did know, he would not be pleased--while he might approve of the Cathars' dedication and general goals, their attempts to correct the Church from the outside would strike him as far too close to the Protestants they claim to oppose. Indeed, for all their talk of purity the Cathars are very much the product of their age, being almost exactly the sort of group that enfolds both priests and layfolk that the Pietean program tries to inspire, except for the whole 'wanting to unseat Pope Pius and destroy the Council of Mantua' matter. The fact is, much like Luther before him, Pius has left such an indelible mark on the world that even his enemies are unconsciously imitating his ideas. (Or more exactly, the ideas Pius has appropriated from others and chosen to promote.)
--In England, Princess Margaret prepares for trip to Transylvania to meet her husband-to-be. Arthur Fitzroy and his wife welcome their first child into the world, a young girl named Mary Anne. And that's not the only pregnancy in the Tudor extended family--Edward's bride Barbara of Hesse is expecting as well. Barbara is learning to cope with her often icy husband, mostly by looking on the bright side--he is absolutely faithful to her, albeit mostly from his general unsociable nature than any affection. (William Paulet is fond of noting that he sometimes think that the Duke of York would prefer it if England existed only on paper and account books.) As the daughter of Philip of Hesse could tell you, fidelity is always a thing to treasure when you find it.
--In Prague, the news is out--Archduke Ferdinand, as expected, has gotten a mistress. Her name is Philippine Wesler--of the Augsburg Weslers, a major banking family--and Ferdinand has not only started an affair with her, but bought a small house for her to live in[11]. He regularly escapes to it, and there the couple... well, essentially act as if they were just a pair of normal people, in a normal relationship. The problem, of course, is that Ferdinand the Younger ISN'T a normal person--he's the King of the Romans and almost certainly the next Holy Roman Emperor. He has duties, both dynastic and social. What's more, Philippine isn't some woman of questionable virtue of the sort his uncle Charles associated with after the death of his wife--she's the daughter of a family of influential commoners, and that means that things will have to be... seen to. Needless to say, once the news reaches the ears of Emperor Ferdinand he decides to have a chat with his son, a decision that is only furthered when his weeping niece/daughter-in-law comes to him after SHE hears the rumors. And so father and son have a talk.
To Ferdinand Senior's surprise, his son is surprisingly candid about the entire thing. He is sorry for the trouble he is causing, but his marriage to Maria of Spain is loveless on both sides, and it is destroying him. He is willing to do what he can for the family, but he must have something of his own, or he will break. It is questionable that Ferdinand would be persuaded by this argument if it had been the late Maximilian or young Charles Francis making it--but his namesake has always been his favorite. And so, Ferdinand agrees that he will allow his son to keep his mistress, with the understanding that the Archduke will be discreet and... resume his nuptial duties with his wife.
And with that the matter is--well, not resolved, but understood to have reached a conclusion. Archduke Ferdinand has a mistress, and he prefers her to his wife. The Protestant Princes make loud noises of the moral bankruptcy of the Hapsburgs, but this tends to turn eyes towards active bigamist Philip of Hesse, so they promptly shut up. The young Hapsburg proves as good as his word, and begins to resume visits to his wife's bed. As for Maria of Spain, she isn't happy about this, but a little chat from her beloved uncle/Father-in-law has her agreeing to take one for Team Hapsburg.
The side-effect of this little... household arrangment are, obviously, going to be very far-reaching. In fact, historians are still going to be debating them centuries into the future.
--Turning to the affairs of another Hapsburg, former Emperor Charles has been ailing more than usual of late, and this has made him sentimental. While he's gotten most of his affairs in order, there is one he feels he hasn't--his illegitimate son, Jeromin.[12] And so he arranges to have the boy brought to him, so he can see his son, and make sure that he's provided for. The first meeting is pleasant enough to have the former Emperor write instructions to King Philip to make sure the boy is taken care of after he's gone. (He's rather hoping his bastard takes a career in the Church. Many future historians will find this highly ironic considering what will occur later in his life. But that is yet to come...) And it is soon followed by others.
Rumors of this quickly reach the Court, and causes the ongoing "Carlos Primo" deathwatch to move into overdrive. Needless to say, when young Charles hears news of this, he begins to plot in double time to reach his grandfather's side. It gives him something to occupy himself with aside from how much he hates his new overseers, Ruy Gomez and his wife. Taking his cue from most courtiers, he refers to the former as "Rey Gomez" occasionally to his face--the latter he dubs "Madame Polyphemus"--'for she has but one eye, and devours men,' Charles notes to his cousin Ferdinand. Charles is not alone in hating them--the Prince of Eboli is seen as an ambitious outsider and shameless social climber, while the Princess is viewed as a rather unpleasant and tempermental woman, much given to intrigues. Charles' brother, the Infante Fernando, remains in good health, doted on by his mother, his nurses, and yes, even his odd elder brother.
--And now we head over to the Baltic tangle--King Sigismund Augustus of Poland gathers his troops and marches into Livonia. Von Furstenberg does his best, but this isn't the tiny forces of the Archbishop of Riga, and so the Livonian Order finally falls. It is largely dissolved, and replaced by the Livonian Dominions, a loose-knit group of landholdings and bishophorics that owe vasallage to Poland. This would be a great victory for the nation--except for one little detail.
Ivan IV of Russia has many ties to the Order, ties which he has chosen to interpet as being their overlord. And thus, he views the Order's de facto dissolution and treaty with Poland-Lithuania as a violation of their treaties with him. And so, he declares war on the Dominions as well as Poland and Lithuania. Sigismund has been expecting this, and contacts Denmark and Sweden. While the two Scandinavian nations hate each other, they both prefer Poland to Russia. Gustav I of Sweden however is reluctant to join the war. The insanely bold man who snatched the throne of Sweden away from Copenhagen is tired and old now. He wishes to make certain that his kingdom is in order for his son's Erik's ascension to the throne. Christian III is more confident. Land gained in the Dominions will help ensure Denmark's hold over the Baltics.
And so begins the Livonian War.[13] It will last for a little over two decades, involve all major Baltic nations, and outlast all of the monarchs involved in it when it started, and in most cases, their immediate heirs. When it is finished, everyone will wonder why they bothered in the first place, with the exception of the one bastard who's benefited from it, and even he will think his rivals were saps.
--Turning to the Italian War--the naval forces of Genoa and Corsica fight a battle with the Dorias' Sardinian Navy, much of which used to be the Genoese navy. The outnumbered forces of Sardinia manage a narrow victory, thanks in no small part due to the impressive leadership of Giovanni Andrea Doria. However, it is a Pyrric victory--the Sardinian forces on Corsica are wiped out, leaving the overall advantage in the war to the Corsicans, who still have forces under the leadership of the fearsome Sampieru Corfu on Sardinia itself. Of course, not everything is good news for the Corsicans--their leader Orsini has perished in the naval battle, but they remain optimistic.
--In France, Duke Francois sets out to confront his rival at St. Quentin with the best forces France can muster at the moment. This isn't much--France is, again, broke--but de Guise has attempted to make up for it by gathering a force of capable, battle-hardened veterans. The plan is to besiege St. Quentin and reclaim it from the Elector--sadly, it collapses the moment it confronts the enemy, as plans are wont to do. In this case, John Frederick has full knowledge of the French plans, thanks to the lengthy delay in implements de Guise's design. And this has made a significant difference, for the Elector of Saxony prefers not to base his defense on being holed down in a fortress. No, John Frederick prefers a more active defense. And so Francois de Guise's army finds itself walking into an ambush in what will be seen as one of the definitive moments of the so-called "Saxon" school of tactics.
(If I may be allowed an aside--later military historians will be split on whether John Frederick is a military genius of the first water who redefined war or a reckless gambler who simply had a long, long lucky streak. Many place him somewhere in the middle--a highly capable leader whose tactics were based on the forces he had, and the conditions he faced, and thus should not be seen as having a general military application. Certainly quite a few generals in the future will cut their forces to ribbons trying to duplicate the sort of ambushes John Frederick will make his speciality.)
Guise's troops are already somewhat demoralized, and are caught completely flat-footed by the ambush--still, they manage a decent showing. However, after several hours, it becomes clear that the Elector's forces are winning. The Duke is furious at being shown up by John Frederick yet again when he spies the Elector at a distance. (Not hard to do--a typical German Prince, John Frederick insists on cutting a dashing figure in war, and thus goes about the battlefield on a large white stallion, wearing an elaborate red and white cape.) After noting, with usual French severity, what a dandy the Elector looks like, Francois, filled with a mixture of hatred and desperation, decides to attempt to change the course of the battle, and charges at his foe. Unfortunately for the Duke, the Elector not only looks dashing, he is dashing, and after a brief clash, Guise is lying bleeding in the mud. After discovering, to his immense surprise, that he has just cut down the Duke of Guise, John Frederick orders his foe to be taken to his tent, and treated by his doctor. With their leader downed, the French forces retreat in disorder, with many surrendering. Despite recieving the best medical attention the Elector can grant him, Francois de Guise dies that night. History does not record his last words--some say in fact that he was unconscious the entire time--but popular legend does, and in fact grants them a rather mythical importance....
--SCENE FROM: 'THE ROSE KNIGHT' (1937)
An elaborate tent. JOHN FREDERICK enters, dressed in armor. FRANCOIS DE GUISE lays on a bed, clearly ill and dying. His eyes snap open as John Frederick stands by his bedside.
G: So you came.
John Frederick shrugs.
JF: I heard you wished to speak to me. (Glances around awkwardly.) Are you sure you do not want a priest?
G: You would grant me one, heretic?
JF: The dying deserve comfort, whatever their faith.
Guise lets out a bitter laugh.
G: Save me your empty pieties, Saxon. I do not need them. (He coughs.) I wish you to know I accept my damnation willingly, in the hopes of meeting your Godless soul in HELL!
JF: You hate me that much?
G: Hate? Hate? I despise you, Saxon! I despise your German ways, and your German religion! You and yours have upset the proper order, and you have been the ruin of me! (He sits up suddenly, with almost frantic energy.) Listen to me, Saxon! Listen to my dying vow! There shall be eternal hatred between our two houses! It shall not end until mine destroy the very last of yours, or yours destroy the very last of mine! Thus shall it be until the Lord makes the world anew! There can be no peace between Guise and Wettin! (He begins to cough furiously.) No... peace! (And with that he falls back onto the bed, dead.)
-----------------------
[1] Her OTL counterpart was this tall as well.
[2] Historically, Robert was the 1st Earl of Orkney in the Second Creation.
[3] IOTL, Margaret got into trouble for twice getting involved with Howards--something similar happened ITTL, and while it didn't go as badly, what with a more secure succession and the Boleyn-Howards not being disgraced, Henry VIII was still not particularly pleasant about the matter.
[4] IOTL, George became Bishop of Moray in 1581.
[5] Conn--the First Earl of Tyrone--died in 1559, IOTL. Butterflies have caused his death a few years earlier here.
[6] IOTL, Matthew--father of the famed Hugh O'Neill--was murded by Shane before their father died--that said, the English response was about the same.
[7] Granouile is a historical figure, often turned into a hero of Irish independence. This is based on her general badassedness, and is in fact rather ironic, as, aside from being a woman, O'Malley was a rather typical petty Irish lord, and perfectly happy going to the English when she had a land dispute that needed solving.
[8] He died of a stroke in 1555 after a few months as Pope. His death seems to have been caused by the rigors of Papal ceremony--thus he manages a few more years ITTL.
[9] He also died in 1555 IOTL--in fact he was the Pope whose death caused the election that made Marcello Pontiff.
[10] Those readers expecting me to state that yes, he did the same thing IOTL--give yourself a gold star.
[11] IOTL, his first, morganatic wife.
[12] Yes, it's John of Austria. Obviously, not quite our John of Austria, as he was born significantly after the POD--but come on, what can you expect me to do? It's freaking John of Austria!
[13] So far, this has all pretty much been IOTL. Of course, all that's going to change... soon.
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Daniel and Grace collaborating? You really hate the English, or at least want them out of Ireland. Of course, I can think of one way it could horribly backfire - task Grim Ned with sorting out the Irish Problem.
Delighted to see this again
Delighted to see this again
Daniel and Grace collaborating? You really hate the English, or at least want them out of Ireland. Of course, I can think of one way it could horribly backfire - task Grim Ned with sorting out the Irish Problem.
Delighted to see this again
Well, thank you.
As for the Irish Problem--I'd say its plural, actually--and the Irish's internal problems are about as big as any the English face. That stated--get ready for DRAMA.
Charles. (We don't have a heart symbol, so it'll do). Both Charles the Retired Emperor, and Charles the Grandson. I hope the latter sees the former before he dies. I somehow doubt he will, but I hope for it.
You have a good knack for making characters worth reading about - I don't know how much of that is the OTL people, and how much is your writing skill, but things like this:
Are fun to read. It makes them not just interesting historical people but interesting people.
Also:
Team Hapsburg just sounds inherently awesome. The fact I'm partial to the (just the Austrian branch OTL, though Charles might make me favor the Spanish branch more than OTL) dynasty has nothing to do with it, it just sounds cool. Like something that should be some sort of song (rock?)
"Team Hapsburg! Rulin' forever! Sleepin' with our cousinsssssss..."
(We don't have a heart symbol, so it'll do). Both Charles the Retired Emperor, and Charles the Grandson. I hope the latter sees the former before he dies. I somehow doubt he will, but I hope for it.You have a good knack for making characters worth reading about - I don't know how much of that is the OTL people, and how much is your writing skill, but things like this:
Are fun to read. It makes them not just interesting historical people but interesting people.
Also:
Team Hapsburg just sounds inherently awesome. The fact I'm partial to the (just the Austrian branch OTL, though Charles might make me favor the Spanish branch more than OTL) dynasty has nothing to do with it, it just sounds cool. Like something that should be some sort of song (rock?)
"Team Hapsburg! Rulin' forever! Sleepin' with our cousinsssssss..."
Charles.
Thank you for all the compliments. As for Charles Quint and Charles Number Yet To Be Announced, expect a conclusion next installment. At least--for the former Emperor.
Team Hapsburg just sounds inherently awesome. The fact I'm partial to the (just the Austrian branch OTL, though Charles might make me favor the Spanish branch more than OTL) dynasty has nothing to do with it, it just sounds cool. Like something that should be some sort of song (rock?)
"Team Hapsburg! Rulin' forever! Sleepin' with our cousinsssssss..."
Well, again, thank you. I'm afraid dark days are ahead for Europe's most loveable despite themselves dynasty--but expect to see some bright spots.
Very oddly. IOTL, this was a war which saw several participants who were fighting against Russia fighting wars against each other simultaneously, Ivan IV essentially declaring war on his own nation, and an endless succession of backstabs and shifting alliances. So, fun times.
Space Oddity
Well, given the pre-amble
I was rather suspecting that John Fredreick would be the one to die, possibly left with too few forces and taken by surprise but his 'talent' and Francois's temper meant things go the other way on the fatality list.
One obvious solution to the problem of leadership for the Scottish Catholics, although given the people involved probably a disastrous one. How old is Antoinette at this point? Would a possible marriage agreement with the Douglas's seem like an attractive idea to consolidate the Catholic support? Would have to be very secret as I presume Mary and the court would have a veto over the marriage prospects of Antoinette.
The Cathar's sounds very ominous and at worst could end up as some sort of Catholic version of the Assassins! I take it from the disparaging [to Catholics] name they are going to end up losing and side-lined but that could be some way down the line.
A number of other worrying things with continued conflict and others starting up. I feel most of this is pretty much as OTL but Europe in TTL is really suffering the old Chinese curse.
Like Elfwine I was taken by the Team Hapsburg phase.
With Shawn's idea about setting 'grim Ned' on Ireland. It might occur and he might be a devastating suppressor of unrest, or if he's too pre-occupied by his desire to save money and his distance from people a bloody disastrous choice for the role. [There are very few good military leaders who aren't also well endowed in the charisma category].
Another stonking chapter.
Steve
Well, given the pre-amble
makes me think there will be a Wettin Germany and possibly a Guise France, as that seems likely to be the only way such a prolonged feud would occur, especially with the reference to conflicts around the world. [Saxony not having overseas territories at this point that requires either allies or a currently land-locked Saxony becoming a hell of a lot bigger]. That could also be supported by the reference to John Fredrick's 'ability/long, long lucky streak' which suggests he has a lot of victories ahead of him.
I was rather suspecting that John Fredreick would be the one to die, possibly left with too few forces and taken by surprise but his 'talent' and Francois's temper meant things go the other way on the fatality list.
One obvious solution to the problem of leadership for the Scottish Catholics, although given the people involved probably a disastrous one.
How old is Antoinette at this point? Would a possible marriage agreement with the Douglas's seem like an attractive idea to consolidate the Catholic support? Would have to be very secret as I presume Mary and the court would have a veto over the marriage prospects of Antoinette. The Cathar's sounds very ominous and at worst could end up as some sort of Catholic version of the Assassins!
I take it from the disparaging [to Catholics] name they are going to end up losing and side-lined but that could be some way down the line.A number of other worrying things with continued conflict and others starting up. I feel most of this is pretty much as OTL but Europe in TTL is really suffering the old Chinese curse.
Like Elfwine I was taken by the Team Hapsburg phase.
With Shawn's idea about setting 'grim Ned' on Ireland. It might occur and he might be a devastating suppressor of unrest, or if he's too pre-occupied by his desire to save money and his distance from people a bloody disastrous choice for the role. [There are very few good military leaders who aren't also well endowed in the charisma category
].Another stonking chapter.
Steve
That is awesome. It may have little relation to the actual event but its so cool that I can understand why people in TTL think its true. Especially if your hints about future Guise/Wettin relations are anything other than a red herring.
Will be worth seeing.
Well, we should be thanking you for writing so well.
As long as they remain what makes them endearing in their own strange, perverse way. They don't have to win (though I'll be rooting for them shamelessly), but I do hope they continue demonstrating the qualities that made them successful, such as they were.
Unfortunately, Philip being a Habsburg is not going to be good for the House, I think.
Another two-parter! Good for us, but for Europe?
Assuming the English and Irish religious questions explode at the same time, it now looks likely that they'll spread into Scotland. The British Isles are a powder keg, there's no doubt about that. You've dropped plenty of hints about Ireland becoming a pan-generational quagmire, but perhaps Great Britain can be spared the brunt of the strife.
And these two candidates are a boy and a girl, about the same age, and both Stuarts. Marrying them to each other seems almost too neat a solution - any issue would have an excellent claim to the thrones of both England and Scotland, allowing all of Britain to be united under a true and proper Catholic Restoration - at least, I'm sure that's how they'll try to frame it.
An English lord? Perhaps Henry IX knows of someone single who might want to become King Consort of Scots and unite his demesne with hers.
As always, a term originally meant as pejorative is appropriated by the intended targets of ridicule, who make it their own.
This does tell us that the Roman Catholic Church will remain sufficiently robust and populous, if it can maintain a "reactionary" faction, separate from the "mainstream", but still united.
I was about to ask if and when Arthur and Jane would finally become parents. Nice to see that it's come about.
And poor Henry. His last unmarried sibling is leaving - he's the only one left now. And he still has to wait on Elizabeth of Valois, if indeed he's going through with marrying her. At least she's almost old enough, either way. As soon as this Italian War finally ends, the time should be right.
Good luck with that, kid. I'm not betting on it, though.
Good for Christian III. Show that stuffy old tyrant Vasa what's what.
And if I may be allowed an aside, I have to admit I thought you might go ahead and kill John Frederick off - I just guessed the wrong leader. Obviously John Frederick is going to be remembered as one of history's greatest generals in TTL, and since he's fairly young now, that means he has a long career of glorious victories ahead of him. I guess Pharaoh Thutmose III is going to become known as the John Frederick of Egypt?
Clearly, the writer of The Rose Knight was no fan of Guise. I think even Richard III might have been portrayed more sympathetically than that. A very interesting look into how both he and John Frederick will be remembered.
Agreed. There's a real warmth and richness here. You're also good at making their actions seem genuinely character-based, even when it's long strings of "As in OTL". As Shaxper taught us, understanding motivation is key.
Looking forward to the resolution of this crazy Italian War, and to the Valois betrothal/marriage question facing both Henry IX and Mary. I don't expect either of them to come anytime soon, and even if they don't, I'm still looking forward to the second part of 1557! Keep up the terrific work.
Started catching up on this TL, and it has been extremely splendid! This one's a shoo-in for a Turtledove.
Space Oddity
The really worrying thing about the Wettin-Guise feud is that as late as 1937 in TTL you can get someone writing a presumably popular film that to a degree at least glorifies the feud, obviously as others have said, from the Wettin/German side. While the exchange initially made me think about Dido's dying curse it also sounds rather like some propaganda the Nazis might have served up. I suspect that the 1930's in TTL could be a rather tense period.
Steve
The really worrying thing about the Wettin-Guise feud is that as late as 1937 in TTL you can get someone writing a presumably popular film that to a degree at least glorifies the feud, obviously as others have said, from the Wettin/German side. While the exchange initially made me think about Dido's dying curse it also sounds rather like some propaganda the Nazis might have served up. I suspect that the 1930's in TTL could be a rather tense period.
Steve
Well, A LOT of replies to answer before I post the next bit. Let's give it a shot, shall we?
All I can say is that the de Guises and the Wettins are both rising families.
I noticed people seemed to be thinking that way, and decided to encourage it.
Let's just say you're not the only one thinking that, and leave the matter there for the moment.
Well, you didn't think Pius being all reasonable was going to go on without side-effects did you? And well--there will be resemblences between them and the Assassins. However, that's not necessarily a reason to hit the panic button--after all, the real Assassins were just a bit rubbish when you get down to it.
Not that that stopped them from causing trouble.
Well, thanks. One thing to remember is--at the moment, ITTL, the feud's rather one-sided. Of course, that will change in the future.
We shall see.
Again, some people are thinking along those lines already ITL.
He has some ideas in that line, actually.
Well, let's recall--the Catholic Church has Spain and its possessions, and is not likely to lose either in the near future.
Oh, yes. It's getting to him.
Thanks for the correction. It actually took Denmark a bit longer IOTL to get involved--but they're feeling a bit more confident ITTL.
Actually, no. John Frederick isn't viewed as that sort of military genius.
Well, this is only one scene. Guise gets are bit more rounded potrayal in the movie as a whole. I should also add that this is a scene from the beginning of the film...
Again, thank you.
I have to confess, I have rather vague ideas at what the 30s are like at the moment--that stated, again, this is one scene. While there's undoubtedly a bit of national myth here, one element of that national myth which the film tries to capture--that perhaps only came through vaguely--is a sense of 'what a senseless waste of human life'.
All I can say is that the de Guises and the Wettins are both rising families.
I noticed people seemed to be thinking that way, and decided to encourage it.
One obvious solution to the problem of leadership for the Scottish Catholics, although given the people involved probably a disastrous one.
Let's just say you're not the only one thinking that, and leave the matter there for the moment.
The Cathar's sounds very ominous and at worst could end up as some sort of Catholic version of the Assassins!
Well, you didn't think Pius being all reasonable was going to go on without side-effects did you? And well--there will be resemblences between them and the Assassins. However, that's not necessarily a reason to hit the panic button--after all, the real Assassins were just a bit rubbish when you get down to it.
Not that that stopped them from causing trouble.
Well, thanks. One thing to remember is--at the moment, ITTL, the feud's rather one-sided. Of course, that will change in the future.
We shall see.
Again, some people are thinking along those lines already ITL.
He has some ideas in that line, actually.
Well, let's recall--the Catholic Church has Spain and its possessions, and is not likely to lose either in the near future.
Oh, yes. It's getting to him.
Thanks for the correction. It actually took Denmark a bit longer IOTL to get involved--but they're feeling a bit more confident ITTL.
Actually, no. John Frederick isn't viewed as that sort of military genius.
Well, this is only one scene. Guise gets are bit more rounded potrayal in the movie as a whole. I should also add that this is a scene from the beginning of the film...
Again, thank you.
Space Oddity
The really worrying thing about the Wettin-Guise feud is that as late as 1937 in TTL you can get someone writing a presumably popular film that to a degree at least glorifies the feud, obviously as others have said, from the Wettin/German side. While the exchange initially made me think about Dido's dying curse it also sounds rather like some propaganda the Nazis might have served up. I suspect that the 1930's in TTL could be a rather tense period.
Steve
I have to confess, I have rather vague ideas at what the 30s are like at the moment--that stated, again, this is one scene. While there's undoubtedly a bit of national myth here, one element of that national myth which the film tries to capture--that perhaps only came through vaguely--is a sense of 'what a senseless waste of human life'.
"Tracking Catherine Howard often becomes an exercise in chasing shadows for the would-be biographer. After her contentious marriage to the Earl of Angus and its bloody ending, she seemingly vanishes from the stage for years. The desire to fill in the blanks for this self-made woman of mystery using whatever mixture of conjecture and dubious sources one can scrounge up is always tempting. And yet, ultimately, it is an exercise in futility, leaving one with many questions, and few answers. Is Catherine the mysterious Madame CA that the Paris Diarist writes of as being involved with Antoine de Bourbon, King jux usuris of Navarre in 1553? Or perhaps the unnamed 'Scotswoman' in the court of the Venetian Doge in 55, rumored to be a witch? These and a hundred other possiblities can be chased down, accepted or discarded, but ultimately, a serious historian must admit the simple fact that we don't know where she was, and likely never will. The first time we definitely hear of her again is in June, 1557, where she is attending a fete..."
--The Velvet Cat: The Life and Times of Catherine Howard, Adventuress, Antony Belton (1986)
1557--Part 2
--In Portugal, the Two Regents plot and plan--Catherine to run the country, Johanna to get her own chance to do that. This naturally results in the Portugese court being consumed in petty factionalism. Courtiers seek to gain favor with either of the Dowager Queens, with Johanna being a favorite of outsiders and Jesuits. Meanwhile, young King Leander is being raised in near seclusion by Theatine brothers, who hope to inspire in the young king utter piety, and a strictly Catholic character. Internationally, Portugal has gained the port of Macau from China, in return for annual payments of a decent sum of silver. And this turns Regent Catherine's eyes east, where she comes up with an... entertaining solution to a little problem.
Don Antonio, Prior of Crato is not the most prominent prospective compromise Regent to have appeared during the squabble for the Regency--he is however probably the most obnoxious--and he is thankfully free of having the powerful connections needed to make him a dangerous man to wrong. Catherine has been aching to do something--amusing to the man, and a recent death in Portugal's overseas Empire has given her the perfect opportunity to do just that. And so, Don Antonio finds himself called before Catherine, who then explains how he is being granted a... signal honor. He is a priest, after all, and she has a plumb bishophoric she'd like to give him. The Bishophoric of Malacca. Don Antonio, accomplished courtier that he is, accepts this... great honor with a smile, and departs to get his things in order. He of course, realizes the truth. This is about shipping him as far from Portugal as possible and leaving him there--he accepted because Catherine would probably follow this up with something worse if he refused. He could appeal to Johanna, but he suspects that wouldn't go well. (During the entire regency controversy, one of his suggestions was that he leave holy orders and marry her. She... did not appreciate it.) It's not an easy fate, but Antonio is certain he can turn this around. Somehow. He departs towards the end of the year, with Catherine and Johanna both sure they will never see him again.
They are right. They will however, hear about him again.
--The second false Mustafa is at last captured by Prince Selim's forces in Edirne, after months of hiding out. Selim orders his death by torture--when "Mustafa" insists that this runs counter to Turkish law, whereby a Prince of the House of Osman may not have his blood shed, Selim responds by stating that "Mustafa" is not his brother, but a blatant imposter, and that for such a man, only the grisliest death will do. He then watches as the Pretender is bloodily dismembered--before his death, he confesses that he is in fact a humble farmer named Orhan. After witnessing the gruesome spectacle, Selim goes off to have a stiff drink. He does that with increasing frequency these days--Selim has the drive needed to make it to the top in the cutthroat world of Ottoman politics, but even more than his father, who has already largely transformed from 'dynamic warrior prince' to 'secluded shut-in', he lacks the savagery that let his predecessors shrug off all the blood they spilled to get there after the fact. That will have a significant effect on the House of Osman in the near future.
In other Ottoman news, the Red Sea port of Massawa is conquered by Ozdemir Pasha, continuing the Empire's policy of constant expansion. This will, they hope, cement the nation's control of the Red Sea, and assist in an attack on defiantly Shiite Yemen. [1]
--France is in near panic. The remnants of the Duke of Guise's army have reached Paris, bearing their tale of woe and defeat--many expect the Protestant hordes of the Saxon Elector to come fast on their heels. All look to the King for some kind of hope. It is the great crisis of Henri's reign--and incredibly, the King comes through. Realizing that if his nerve fails now, he may lose everything, Henri manages to impress everyone by acting calm even as things appear to fall apart around him. When emissaries from the Elector arrive, they find Henri at the head of a small army, already in armor. To everyone's relief, John Frederick merely wishes to hammer out another truce--he lacks the forces to do anything significant and he also knows that Philip of Spain lacks the funds for a major offensive. Henri agrees to see the Elector--and thus the pair meet outside St. Quentin, where they agree to a cessation of hostilities. It may not be the proudest moment of French warfare, but it looks amazing--John Frederick and Henri are the kinds of monarchs who look like they could throttle small armies singlehandedly, and naturally, the sight of them together at the head of their forces is a portrait-maker's dream.
--In Italy, the dustup in Sardinia is turning against Doria forces--this brings them to the table, as family leader Giovanni Andrea realizes that they now have little chance of reclaiming their rightful territories. Corsica, Genoa and Savoie are likewise willing to deal--this miniature war has proven costly for them as well. This is all quickly folded into general peace talks between France and Spain. And so, once again, everyone agrees that it's nice they can talk about these things, after a few hundred random peons get killed, with a sprinkling of the important people added in for good measure. In Corsica, Samperu Corsu is recognized as the new governor--and then to the doughty mercenary's surprised, ennobled, becoming the Duke of Alando and Count of Cinarca.
In Genoa, Doge Fieschi rewards the Duke of Savoie with the lofty title of podesta, marking Emmanuel Philibert a foreign resident granted magisterial power within the Republic. Emmanuel grandly accepets--and also acquires a great deal of property in Genoa that used to be the Dorias. Many of the Doge's opponents whisper that Fieschi is utterly in the thrall of France, and Savoie--however, they do so quietly, as once again, Fieschi is demonstrating that he really is good at the whole 'tyrant' thing.
--Margaret Tudor enjoys a going-away fete, as England's finances are showing signs of recovering from the entire pointless war deal. It's a fairly grand occasion--however, the always troublesome Catherine Howard, self-proclaimed Dowager Countess of Angus, has popped up again in England, and somehow managed to join the festivities. There, she attracts the eye of King Henry, who rather likes what he sees. True Catherine is a bit older than him--but age has only... ahem, ripened her charms, as well as adding a polished allure. The next day, she recieves an invitation to accompany the King on a ride. Several days later, she is at a small private party the King holds. While it is impossible to be sure how far things progress--Henry is remarkably discreet on these matters, and as surprisingly popular Spanish Ambassador Simon Renard de Bermot (the French name is due to his being an Old Burgundian) notes, is far less experienced with the fairer sex than he lets people imagine. Arthur Fitzroy will later confide that he doubts the thing progressed much further than a few kisses and perhaps some cuddling. Still, several gifts to Catherine do suggest that Henry considers this a fairly serious relationship. The Privy Council--and much of the Peerage--is alarmed. A mistress is one thing. A mistress who is a blood-stained adventuress likely in the employ of foreign powers is another. Paulet has a few words on the subject with his old friend, Queen Dowager Anne. Anne has a few words with her son. Henry has a few words with Catherine. While Catherine will imply that this is a tearful parting, the facts that Henry will immediately ask his friends never to mention 'that woman' to him under pain of a summary thrashing at his hands, and will later in a conversation with Thomas Howard, Earl of Surrey, refer to her as 'the Whore of Babylon', suggest otherwise. Most historians believe that Anne reveals to her son that Catherine regularly recieves small sums from the French ambassador, suggesting that she is performing espionage for his dear friend, Henri--and probably for others as well. And so, two months after resurfacing, Catherine leaves England--with rather shocking haste--for the Low Countries, where she seems to have a minor diplomatic kerfluffle in Utrecht, and then vanishes once again. For now at least.
--Young Charles Hapsburg's plan to visit his grandfather springs into action. After recruiting his cousins to run interference, telling the Prince of Eboli he will be with the Princess, and the Princess he will be with the Prince, he makes his way to the stables, where he procures a horse and heads out for a ride. Having studies several maps, and with a few stops on the way to make sure he's heading in the right direction, Charles arrives in St. Yuste Monastery, to the immense surprise of the monks. Charles of course, insists that they were of course informed of his prospective visit--weren't they?--and thus manages to bluff his way inside. He finds his grandfather sequestered with young Jeromin, and promptly introduces himself. Once the former Emperor sorts out that this is his grandson, and not his nephew--the old man's eyesight is failing--the trio then spend a pleasant afternoon together. Charles regales his grandfather and uncle with tales of the court, all told very vividly and wittily, and even shows old Charles a minature of his little brother Fernando. As evening approaches, the former Emperor nods off. Jermonin and Charles each kiss the old man's forehead, and the former Emperor states they are both 'good boys' and bids them to look out for each other.
By this time, the Prince of Eboli has arrived--annoyed, but fairly understanding over the entire matter--and so Charles prepares to leave. A monk notes that he should not look so sad--he can always meet his grandfather again. "Aye, in paradise, perhaps," notes young Charles. "He is dying, and I doubt he will live out the night." Everyone is startled at Charles' revelation--Jeromin asks why young Charles didn't speak of it. "He knew it and I knew it," replies Charles with a shrug. "So why should we waste the time we had speaking of the inevitable?" And then with a bow to his uncle, young Charles is off. His prediction of his grandfather's death proves accurate--the former Emperor passes away that night. [2]
--In Sweden, young Magnus Vasa, Duke of Ostergotland is using the violence in Livonia as an excuse to raise up the local militia. Erik is certain that his younger brother is planning something--either a play for the throne, or, more likely, a chance to play kingmaker between Erik and Johan if (when) a struggle should occur between them. While he is somewhat comforted when after several months, Magnus dismisses them, he is still suspicious--Erik will later note that his motto regarding his brothers is "trust Johan as little as possible, and Magnus not at all."
History will show that the future King of Sweden knows the pair very well.
--Philip arrives with his associates in the Netherlands just to recieve news of John Frederick's victory and his father's death. The shock of the latter drains any of the joy the former could cause away--that very night, Philip is seen weeping in a church. Later, he confirms his interest in pursuing a further peace, with France making a token restitution for the violation of the treaty. Simply put, he's in no position to prosecute the war much further. What's more, his father's death has unnerved him--like many men, Philip has always half-assumed his father was immortal in some secret spot of his mind, and this proof otherwise is a major blow. And so, another truce goes into effect, and peace talks resume. The French are able to use the Corsicans occupying parts of Sardinia as leverage for Spain and its allies leaving St. Quentin. Philip settles down to get the Seventeen Provinces in order so he can head back to Madrid as soon as possible.
And so peace is back on track. The fighting has, of course, changed nothing. And also everything, though that is less readily apparent at the moment, save for the death of Francois de Guise.
--Turning to the Guises, the family finds itself saddened and disorientated by Francois' death. The Duke leaves two sons, Henri and Charles, and a daughter, Louise--Henri, the eldest at seven will inherit his titles and estate. He also leaves four brothers--dutiful Claude, Duke of Aumale, still waiting in Genoa, an official persona non grata in France--fiery Rene, Marquis of Elbeuf, who likes to fancy himself his eldest brother's spiritual heir--pliable Louis, Cardinal of Guise--and of course, Charles, Cardinal of Lorraine, the intellectual powerhouse who has always quietly run affairs for the family. Charles' sorrow at his brother's death is mixed with relief, much to his shame--he loved Francois, but that love was always measured with a certain exasperation, especially of late. Francois never seemed to understand--as the Cardinal does--that in pursuing his ends, both in war and against heresy, he was destabilizing the whole nation. With him gone, Charles and his ally of convenience, Queen Catherine d'Medici have a chance of talking some sense into Henri on this whole 'Huguenot' matter--Rene is aspiring to take his brother's place, but he lacks Francois' charisma. Still, as the Cardinal notes to Catherine, their most dangerous opponent remains very close to the throne. Diane de Poiters is fervantly opposed to Protestantism and continues to hold Henri's ear, as well as certain other parts of his anatomy. For the forces of moderation to win, they must neutralize her--somehow.
--In other French news, the Huguenot colonization plan continues apace--next year, a ship will head out under the command of French vice-admiral Nicolas Durand de Villegaignon (who is not exactly a Huguenot, but sympathisizes with them) for the isle Serigipe near Brazil.[3] The French have traded in the area for years now, under the nose of the Portugese, and are certain a colony there would be a great idea. They covet Brazil's precious hardwoods, and "brazilwood" which is great for making red dye. Even Henri is on board, the idea of shipping heretics overseas having a certain appeal to the man. Yep. It's perfect. No way this can backfire.
--Princess Margaret Tudor arrives in Hamburg, the first leg of her lengthy trip to meet her husband-to-be finished. Her next stop--Wittenberg. Back in England, Barbara of Hesse gives birth to she and her husband's second child--another son, who will be named 'Edgar'.
--The Tudors aren't the only family seeing an increase. The Archduke Ferdinand is also overjoyed to learn of a pregnancy. Yes, he tells his darling Philippine, he's certain their child will be lovely...
-----------------------------------------------------
[1] This happened around this time IOTL.
[2] This is a year earlier than IOTL--but he's had a a tough time of it.
[3] This is pretty much the same plan for France Antartique as OTL. Needless to say, everything in fact, did go wrong.
--The Velvet Cat: The Life and Times of Catherine Howard, Adventuress, Antony Belton (1986)
1557--Part 2
--In Portugal, the Two Regents plot and plan--Catherine to run the country, Johanna to get her own chance to do that. This naturally results in the Portugese court being consumed in petty factionalism. Courtiers seek to gain favor with either of the Dowager Queens, with Johanna being a favorite of outsiders and Jesuits. Meanwhile, young King Leander is being raised in near seclusion by Theatine brothers, who hope to inspire in the young king utter piety, and a strictly Catholic character. Internationally, Portugal has gained the port of Macau from China, in return for annual payments of a decent sum of silver. And this turns Regent Catherine's eyes east, where she comes up with an... entertaining solution to a little problem.
Don Antonio, Prior of Crato is not the most prominent prospective compromise Regent to have appeared during the squabble for the Regency--he is however probably the most obnoxious--and he is thankfully free of having the powerful connections needed to make him a dangerous man to wrong. Catherine has been aching to do something--amusing to the man, and a recent death in Portugal's overseas Empire has given her the perfect opportunity to do just that. And so, Don Antonio finds himself called before Catherine, who then explains how he is being granted a... signal honor. He is a priest, after all, and she has a plumb bishophoric she'd like to give him. The Bishophoric of Malacca. Don Antonio, accomplished courtier that he is, accepts this... great honor with a smile, and departs to get his things in order. He of course, realizes the truth. This is about shipping him as far from Portugal as possible and leaving him there--he accepted because Catherine would probably follow this up with something worse if he refused. He could appeal to Johanna, but he suspects that wouldn't go well. (During the entire regency controversy, one of his suggestions was that he leave holy orders and marry her. She... did not appreciate it.) It's not an easy fate, but Antonio is certain he can turn this around. Somehow. He departs towards the end of the year, with Catherine and Johanna both sure they will never see him again.
They are right. They will however, hear about him again.
--The second false Mustafa is at last captured by Prince Selim's forces in Edirne, after months of hiding out. Selim orders his death by torture--when "Mustafa" insists that this runs counter to Turkish law, whereby a Prince of the House of Osman may not have his blood shed, Selim responds by stating that "Mustafa" is not his brother, but a blatant imposter, and that for such a man, only the grisliest death will do. He then watches as the Pretender is bloodily dismembered--before his death, he confesses that he is in fact a humble farmer named Orhan. After witnessing the gruesome spectacle, Selim goes off to have a stiff drink. He does that with increasing frequency these days--Selim has the drive needed to make it to the top in the cutthroat world of Ottoman politics, but even more than his father, who has already largely transformed from 'dynamic warrior prince' to 'secluded shut-in', he lacks the savagery that let his predecessors shrug off all the blood they spilled to get there after the fact. That will have a significant effect on the House of Osman in the near future.
In other Ottoman news, the Red Sea port of Massawa is conquered by Ozdemir Pasha, continuing the Empire's policy of constant expansion. This will, they hope, cement the nation's control of the Red Sea, and assist in an attack on defiantly Shiite Yemen. [1]
--France is in near panic. The remnants of the Duke of Guise's army have reached Paris, bearing their tale of woe and defeat--many expect the Protestant hordes of the Saxon Elector to come fast on their heels. All look to the King for some kind of hope. It is the great crisis of Henri's reign--and incredibly, the King comes through. Realizing that if his nerve fails now, he may lose everything, Henri manages to impress everyone by acting calm even as things appear to fall apart around him. When emissaries from the Elector arrive, they find Henri at the head of a small army, already in armor. To everyone's relief, John Frederick merely wishes to hammer out another truce--he lacks the forces to do anything significant and he also knows that Philip of Spain lacks the funds for a major offensive. Henri agrees to see the Elector--and thus the pair meet outside St. Quentin, where they agree to a cessation of hostilities. It may not be the proudest moment of French warfare, but it looks amazing--John Frederick and Henri are the kinds of monarchs who look like they could throttle small armies singlehandedly, and naturally, the sight of them together at the head of their forces is a portrait-maker's dream.
--In Italy, the dustup in Sardinia is turning against Doria forces--this brings them to the table, as family leader Giovanni Andrea realizes that they now have little chance of reclaiming their rightful territories. Corsica, Genoa and Savoie are likewise willing to deal--this miniature war has proven costly for them as well. This is all quickly folded into general peace talks between France and Spain. And so, once again, everyone agrees that it's nice they can talk about these things, after a few hundred random peons get killed, with a sprinkling of the important people added in for good measure. In Corsica, Samperu Corsu is recognized as the new governor--and then to the doughty mercenary's surprised, ennobled, becoming the Duke of Alando and Count of Cinarca.
In Genoa, Doge Fieschi rewards the Duke of Savoie with the lofty title of podesta, marking Emmanuel Philibert a foreign resident granted magisterial power within the Republic. Emmanuel grandly accepets--and also acquires a great deal of property in Genoa that used to be the Dorias. Many of the Doge's opponents whisper that Fieschi is utterly in the thrall of France, and Savoie--however, they do so quietly, as once again, Fieschi is demonstrating that he really is good at the whole 'tyrant' thing.
--Margaret Tudor enjoys a going-away fete, as England's finances are showing signs of recovering from the entire pointless war deal. It's a fairly grand occasion--however, the always troublesome Catherine Howard, self-proclaimed Dowager Countess of Angus, has popped up again in England, and somehow managed to join the festivities. There, she attracts the eye of King Henry, who rather likes what he sees. True Catherine is a bit older than him--but age has only... ahem, ripened her charms, as well as adding a polished allure. The next day, she recieves an invitation to accompany the King on a ride. Several days later, she is at a small private party the King holds. While it is impossible to be sure how far things progress--Henry is remarkably discreet on these matters, and as surprisingly popular Spanish Ambassador Simon Renard de Bermot (the French name is due to his being an Old Burgundian) notes, is far less experienced with the fairer sex than he lets people imagine. Arthur Fitzroy will later confide that he doubts the thing progressed much further than a few kisses and perhaps some cuddling. Still, several gifts to Catherine do suggest that Henry considers this a fairly serious relationship. The Privy Council--and much of the Peerage--is alarmed. A mistress is one thing. A mistress who is a blood-stained adventuress likely in the employ of foreign powers is another. Paulet has a few words on the subject with his old friend, Queen Dowager Anne. Anne has a few words with her son. Henry has a few words with Catherine. While Catherine will imply that this is a tearful parting, the facts that Henry will immediately ask his friends never to mention 'that woman' to him under pain of a summary thrashing at his hands, and will later in a conversation with Thomas Howard, Earl of Surrey, refer to her as 'the Whore of Babylon', suggest otherwise. Most historians believe that Anne reveals to her son that Catherine regularly recieves small sums from the French ambassador, suggesting that she is performing espionage for his dear friend, Henri--and probably for others as well. And so, two months after resurfacing, Catherine leaves England--with rather shocking haste--for the Low Countries, where she seems to have a minor diplomatic kerfluffle in Utrecht, and then vanishes once again. For now at least.
--Young Charles Hapsburg's plan to visit his grandfather springs into action. After recruiting his cousins to run interference, telling the Prince of Eboli he will be with the Princess, and the Princess he will be with the Prince, he makes his way to the stables, where he procures a horse and heads out for a ride. Having studies several maps, and with a few stops on the way to make sure he's heading in the right direction, Charles arrives in St. Yuste Monastery, to the immense surprise of the monks. Charles of course, insists that they were of course informed of his prospective visit--weren't they?--and thus manages to bluff his way inside. He finds his grandfather sequestered with young Jeromin, and promptly introduces himself. Once the former Emperor sorts out that this is his grandson, and not his nephew--the old man's eyesight is failing--the trio then spend a pleasant afternoon together. Charles regales his grandfather and uncle with tales of the court, all told very vividly and wittily, and even shows old Charles a minature of his little brother Fernando. As evening approaches, the former Emperor nods off. Jermonin and Charles each kiss the old man's forehead, and the former Emperor states they are both 'good boys' and bids them to look out for each other.
By this time, the Prince of Eboli has arrived--annoyed, but fairly understanding over the entire matter--and so Charles prepares to leave. A monk notes that he should not look so sad--he can always meet his grandfather again. "Aye, in paradise, perhaps," notes young Charles. "He is dying, and I doubt he will live out the night." Everyone is startled at Charles' revelation--Jeromin asks why young Charles didn't speak of it. "He knew it and I knew it," replies Charles with a shrug. "So why should we waste the time we had speaking of the inevitable?" And then with a bow to his uncle, young Charles is off. His prediction of his grandfather's death proves accurate--the former Emperor passes away that night. [2]
--In Sweden, young Magnus Vasa, Duke of Ostergotland is using the violence in Livonia as an excuse to raise up the local militia. Erik is certain that his younger brother is planning something--either a play for the throne, or, more likely, a chance to play kingmaker between Erik and Johan if (when) a struggle should occur between them. While he is somewhat comforted when after several months, Magnus dismisses them, he is still suspicious--Erik will later note that his motto regarding his brothers is "trust Johan as little as possible, and Magnus not at all."
History will show that the future King of Sweden knows the pair very well.
--Philip arrives with his associates in the Netherlands just to recieve news of John Frederick's victory and his father's death. The shock of the latter drains any of the joy the former could cause away--that very night, Philip is seen weeping in a church. Later, he confirms his interest in pursuing a further peace, with France making a token restitution for the violation of the treaty. Simply put, he's in no position to prosecute the war much further. What's more, his father's death has unnerved him--like many men, Philip has always half-assumed his father was immortal in some secret spot of his mind, and this proof otherwise is a major blow. And so, another truce goes into effect, and peace talks resume. The French are able to use the Corsicans occupying parts of Sardinia as leverage for Spain and its allies leaving St. Quentin. Philip settles down to get the Seventeen Provinces in order so he can head back to Madrid as soon as possible.
And so peace is back on track. The fighting has, of course, changed nothing. And also everything, though that is less readily apparent at the moment, save for the death of Francois de Guise.
--Turning to the Guises, the family finds itself saddened and disorientated by Francois' death. The Duke leaves two sons, Henri and Charles, and a daughter, Louise--Henri, the eldest at seven will inherit his titles and estate. He also leaves four brothers--dutiful Claude, Duke of Aumale, still waiting in Genoa, an official persona non grata in France--fiery Rene, Marquis of Elbeuf, who likes to fancy himself his eldest brother's spiritual heir--pliable Louis, Cardinal of Guise--and of course, Charles, Cardinal of Lorraine, the intellectual powerhouse who has always quietly run affairs for the family. Charles' sorrow at his brother's death is mixed with relief, much to his shame--he loved Francois, but that love was always measured with a certain exasperation, especially of late. Francois never seemed to understand--as the Cardinal does--that in pursuing his ends, both in war and against heresy, he was destabilizing the whole nation. With him gone, Charles and his ally of convenience, Queen Catherine d'Medici have a chance of talking some sense into Henri on this whole 'Huguenot' matter--Rene is aspiring to take his brother's place, but he lacks Francois' charisma. Still, as the Cardinal notes to Catherine, their most dangerous opponent remains very close to the throne. Diane de Poiters is fervantly opposed to Protestantism and continues to hold Henri's ear, as well as certain other parts of his anatomy. For the forces of moderation to win, they must neutralize her--somehow.
--In other French news, the Huguenot colonization plan continues apace--next year, a ship will head out under the command of French vice-admiral Nicolas Durand de Villegaignon (who is not exactly a Huguenot, but sympathisizes with them) for the isle Serigipe near Brazil.[3] The French have traded in the area for years now, under the nose of the Portugese, and are certain a colony there would be a great idea. They covet Brazil's precious hardwoods, and "brazilwood" which is great for making red dye. Even Henri is on board, the idea of shipping heretics overseas having a certain appeal to the man. Yep. It's perfect. No way this can backfire.
--Princess Margaret Tudor arrives in Hamburg, the first leg of her lengthy trip to meet her husband-to-be finished. Her next stop--Wittenberg. Back in England, Barbara of Hesse gives birth to she and her husband's second child--another son, who will be named 'Edgar'.
--The Tudors aren't the only family seeing an increase. The Archduke Ferdinand is also overjoyed to learn of a pregnancy. Yes, he tells his darling Philippine, he's certain their child will be lovely...
-----------------------------------------------------
[1] This happened around this time IOTL.
[2] This is a year earlier than IOTL--but he's had a a tough time of it.
[3] This is pretty much the same plan for France Antartique as OTL. Needless to say, everything in fact, did go wrong.
... and again, Cathrine dodges being killed by a King Henry.
I have a bad feeling about this.
There's a reason her ITTL nickname is the Velvet Cat.
Well, several reasons really, including her name.
Oh, you shouldn't. Ferdinand II is exactly right. He and his mistress are about to have a perfectly lovely child.
BWAHAHAHA!
Last edited:
Space Oddity said:
YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!
I could kiss you, SO.
And...well, comment on Charles the not-yet-numbered below.
Rest in peace, Carolus Quintus. You will be missed.
And Charles-the-not-yet-numbered has proven that he's not all madcap adventure with that statement (italicized).
Certainly plenty of impetuosity, but there's a brain at work there.
And a good heart, I think. I may be biased, as I've definitely taken a liking to him, but I'd like to think that's because of what he is rather than despite.
Philip, of course, is going to find some way to mind this, isn't he?
Others have commented on the other stuff, but as the one who wanted a meeting between the two Caroli(sp?), I have to comment on it.
Thank you so much for that.
It doesn't make or break the timeline, but its very much appreciated as a reader to have something like this happened.
Charles (both of them) deserved it. And Charles V didn't get enough of what he deserved otherwise (not to complain, he had tough times and all).
Has anyone ever told you that you have a real knack for coming up with nicknames? If not, allow me to be the first.
So, when the chips are down, he actually can be a decisive and brave leader. This flash of regal mettle is probably going to make historians lament his reign all the more; why couldn't he be like this all the time, and not just when his back was up against the wall?
So he likes them older. That's interesting, as his eventual wife - whether it's Elizabeth of Valois or someone else entirely - will likely be a good deal younger. It also gives him something in common with his hated rival, Henri II, appropriately enough.
On an out-of-universe note, well done for managing to hook Henry up with one of his father's OTL wives. Am I right in suspecting that it was one of your earliest ideas for this timeline?
How sweet. You actually gave young Charles his greatest desire. I'm sure he'll be leaning on it in the difficult years ahead. And this demonstrates that whatever mental affliction he may or may not have, it definitely hasn't diminished his social capabilities. He's remarkably savvy and sympathetic. You're making me optimistic about his potential reign. Given your track record, I'm worried it might be false hope.
Oh! The King of France is on board! And we all know what a great track record he has!
Nothing to do now but get the popcorn ready.
Spending the holidays with her beloved sister Elizabeth, I assume? That would be nice to see. I'm pretty sure it'll be the first time we've seen them interact.
Another son! And given a fine old Anglo-Saxon King name, too. I am curious as to why Edgar, when both Edward and Edmund also fit those criteria, and are established Tudor names.
We really need to do so something about your addiction to foreboding closing sentences. I wonder if there's a place you can go to get the treatment you need.
Bald-faced lies and maniacal laughter, too. Were you a supervillain in a past life?
Catherine Howard is a lot of fun. Making her a Mata Hari figure really suits her. She should hope that she doesn't meet the same end - but considering how much better she's doing than in OTL, she really doesn't have any room to complain.
Now that the war is actually no-kidding-we-really-mean-it-this-time over, I'm looking forward to the peace negotiations and treaty. And, as before, the continuing Tripartite Marriage Pact shenanigans. And I also have a special wish for 1558 that, in the likely event that it comes true, I will personally thank you for granting. So until then!
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