PROLOGUE
From jigging veins of rhyming mother-wits,
And such conceits as clownage keeps in pay,
We'll lead you to the stately tent of war,
Where you shall hear the roughly-shap'd Tamburlaine
Threatening the world with high astounding terms,
And scourging kingdoms with his conquering sword.
View but his picture in this tragic glass,
And then applaud his fortunes as you please.
--Tamburlaine the Great, His Conquests and Reign, Part 1, Simon Marlow, 1587[1]
1565--Part 2
--Charles von Hapsburg, Prince of the Asturias sets sail for Genoa, accompanied by a small squad of Spanish soldiers, under the command of Juan de Vargas, a protege of Alba's who's rather like the Duke minus his redeeming qualities[2], and Charles' cousin, Carlo Farnese of Parma. Prior to setting off, his father grants the young Prince a new set of titles--Duke of Luxembourg and Count of Flanders. Charles publically thanks his father for his great largesse, and privately notes to his cousin that Philip could have tossed at least a couple more titles on at no cost to himself--the fact that he didn't suggests that the King of Spain is trying to undermine him from the start.
And the Prince is quite correct. Even as Charles is sent out, Philip is doing his damnedest to tie the Prince's hands. First off, the Prince is given sealed orders by his father to be opened in the Netherlands. Two copies in fact, just to be certain. Then, Vargas is given secret orders of his own. Also a third copy of the Prince's orders--Philip is a big believer in redundancy as a safeguard measure. Vargas' orders are a beautiful bit of vagary, authorizing the commander to take control of the Seventeen Provinces should Charles "become unfit", signed and sealed by Philip before the Prince heads out. (Okay, technically sealed by the Infante Fernando, who regularly seals his father's decrees and orders these days--Philip noticed the rather backwards Infante enjoys it, and so lets him do so as a treat.[3] Fernando, incidentaly, has NO idea what he just attached the royal seal to, and would probably be rather abashed if he did--he loves big brother Cawwoth, who is dear and kind to him, just as he loves his Daddy, and finds all the ill will between the pair extremely puzzling and disturbing.) Vargas, naturally, is cagy enough to read behind the lines here, and is fairly certain he can handle things if the Prince, instead of dealing with the rebellion cuts a deal instead and becomes a rebel.
Still, despite having to deal with these schemes, Charles is in bright spirits, enjoying his sea voyage, where, to the surprise of many, the Prince proves to have decent sea legs. His cousin, Carlo Farnese is not so fortunate--indeed, the young Italian acquires a dread of boat trips that will stay with him throughout his entire lengthy life. But for Charles, it is almost magical--he is, after years of being under Philip's thumb, finally free to determine his own fate. He spends his days enjoying the sea air, his nights at meals with the officers and soldiers of the small force he has been granted to 'restore order' to his charge.
Charles is not the only Hapsburg starting a lengthy trip--Philip has at last caved to pressure from his sisters, and agreed that, yes, yes, marrying young Eleanor is of course, a grand idea, and he is naturally eager to see her, etc. etc. etc. The young noblewoman sets out from Trieste, going to Spain--ironically enough, the place of her birth--via a lengthy, circuitous route meant to minimize the risk of piracy. She and her cousin Charles will not cross paths during their respective journeys, though both will be aware that the other is making one. Eleanor goes on this journey with a small group of maidservants and a bevy of written advice from her mother about how to keep Philip happy, and, in a more general sense, keeping the proper attitude about married life.
What we term "sucking it up" is a large portion of this advice.
--Eric von Calenberg's troops plunge into Electoral Saxony, raiding, looting, and wreaking havoc, as they burn their way to Wittenburg. While this does keep the army in good spirits--Saxony has been only lightly touched in the war until now, and thus is a far richer source of plunder than poor impoverished Brunswick--it has the side-effect of alerting the Saxons that Wittenburg must be defended. The Electress Elizabeth rises to the occasion with a spirit that surprises everyone--especially considering that she has given birth only a few months prior--readying the small city's defenses, aided by her only slightly less formidable mother-in-law, Sybille of Cleves.
And so, when Calenberg arrives at the city, he finds it well-defended, the city milita manning the walls. Eric's call for it to surrender on the ground that they are outmatched brings the Electress Elizabeth, with her babe in her arms, and her little son toddling at her side--she declares that she would rather hurl her children over the wall herself, followed by her own body, then surrender and let them live with the knowledge that they had a coward for a mother. In response, Calenberg rants some about "viragos" and "she-wolves" and then settles down for a siege. A month and a half into it, he is forced to break it off when his scouts report a large Wettin-Hohenzollern-Pomeranian army on its way. As the Brunswickian forces retreat, Wittenburg celebrates its "astounding victory". John Frederick briefly stops off to make sure that his wife and kids are all right, and then the pursuit is on!
Calenberg's troops efforts to evade their pursuers fail when they find themselves pinned by ANOTHER army commanded by John William, who's rather eager to avenge his being made a fool of by Eric, Salentin von Isenburg, and Henry von Dannenberg, leading a force of Bond Brunswickers. Ultimately, Calenberg's army will fight their opponents in a battle near Magdeburg. It's a bloody savage battle--the Saxons are bitterly angry at these men for the damage they've done to their homes, and for threatening Wittenburg, a city that as one later historian will note, stands for many Lutherans as 'Mecca does for the Mahometans'. Calenberg's army is essentially destroyed to a man--the Duke of Brunswick-Wolfenbuttel himself only escapes by launching himself into a nearby stream, and swimming for his life,[4] then rushing back to Brunswick in disguise. It's a humiliating setback for Eric, which is topped for the Duke by discovering that his pregnant wife has given birth to a daughter. So from his viewpoint, bad times all around.
Despite all this, Eric von Calenberg remains a threat--he still has plentiful forces in reserve (Eric's a wily old campaigner who knows not to bet everything on a gamble) and with his allies remains in control of well over half of the Brunswick area. Further the battle was hardly bloodless for the Leipzig Bond--three of the Dukes of Pomerania (John Frederick "the Strong" Gryfta of Wolgast, his little brother, young Barnim X, and their elderly great-uncle, Barnim IX of Stettin[5]) are casualties as is Brandenburger Prince John George, son and heir of the Elector Joachim Hector. Still--the gamble has failed, and indeed become something of a propaganda win for Saxony, with a popular woodcut in the Saxon Chronicle depicting the Brunswickian soldiers fleeing at "the She-Wolf's Howl". Elizabeth of course basks in the attention and praise of the German Evangelical world, especially its foremost champion, her husband. John William and Salentin von Isenburg likewise enjoy the people's praise, with John Frederick forgiving his brother his earlier errors. Despite the undeniable losses, the whole affair simply becomes more of the Saxon legend.
--The forces of Bayezid, provided by his generous host Shah Tahmasp (who is expecting Bayezid to repay this favor with interest if he pulls this off), cross the borders of the Persian and Turkish Empires, where the Prince (accompanied by his sons) announces himself as the true and proper Sultan of the Turks. The result is somewhat underwhelming--while the eastern portions of the empire are filled to the brim with religious dissidents most of them are less than enthusiastic about the Turkish Prince, recalling the last time he said he'd clean Selim's clock. Still, some are willing to take a chance, and thus, by the time the Sultan's forces arrive, Bayezid has gathered a fair-sized army to battle his brother for the Empire.
To make a long story short--Bayezid loses. Just like he did the last time he and his brother fought. He loses because Selim's soldiers are better. He loses because Selim's commanders are better. He loses because Selim is better. While the Sultan would state--in a fairly honest appraisal of his own abilities--that he is hardly a great captain, the men he has working for him would state he is a first rate administrator, and a man who knows HOW to get the great captains to work for him, and how to deploy them when he has them. At the bottom of it, Selim is a man who's bothered to learn how to run an empire--his brother is a scheming, spoiled momma's boy[6] who's simply assumed he's inherited his father's genius his entire life. There's no real contest here. There never really was.
A full list of the battles that are fought in this brief little war would be both dull and repetitive--it's enough to note that Selim faces his brother's forces multiple times, trounces them each and every time, and finally captures Prince Bayezid and his sons after a battle near Mosul. Bayezid attempts to flee on horseback--his eldest sons, Orhan and Osman, die valiantly protecting their father while his youngest sons, Mahmud and Abdullah are captured in the same effort. (Abdullah, by the way, is all of twelve.) All in vain, though it does further the propaganda win, one reason why as opposed to his brother Mustafa, Bayezid stays dead after his execution. The defeated Prince begs the Sultan for mercy--Selim replies by asking if Bayezid would have given him and his any if he had won. The Prince dies, by all accounts, snivelling and pathetic--his sons face their deaths bravely. Selim orders all four sons to be buried with honors in a rich tomb. His brother's body, in contrast, is tossed into a pit. Selim, even as he begins his negotiations with the Shah, notes to Sokullu Mehmet that he is mystified that a man as wretched as his brother could have sons so fine.
This is last bit is a personal matter to the Sultan, who has just been disappointed by his own eldest son, in the severest manner possible. As noted previously, Prince Murad has been left in charge of Constantinople. Unfortunately, while his father was busy showing the rebels (and indeed, the world) that he's not a man you can push around, Murad was busy demonstrating the opposite. It all started with a few discontented Janissaries and rumors that Selim had perished--either in battle, or choking on a meal on the way to the front. The Janissaries, perhaps seeing an opportunity for a payoff, begin making a fuss. It is a defining moment for Prince Murad--where his father would immediately start smoothing things over, while getting ready to apply the pressure if he had to, Murad blusters and threatens while failing to do anything constructive. The Janissaries respond by getting louder, as the panic and rumors spread. And now things get complicated--indeed, a good chunk of what occurs can only be guessed at. The mostly likely chain of events is this--as Murad fails to deal with the panic, leaders emerge among the Janissaries, increasingly sure that whatever has happened, this may be the perfect time to press their advantage. The government of the Turkish Sultanate has always had a strong element of rule by the sword, and while the Janissaries were created to fix that, it wouldn't be an exagerration to say they have ultimately succumbed to the same tendency. The leaders feel that quick, decisive action on their part could lead to them controlling the government.
This growing feeling is not countered by Prince Murad--instead he starts quietly courting their favor. Murad is an ambitious young man, who has recently acquired an ambitious young wife--okay, technically concubine, this the House of Osman--who is encouraging that ambition[7]. Whatever faults can be laid at Murad's door, outright stupidity is not one of them--he also spots the opportunity here, and decides to act on it. The problem is he's not very good at it, and so, instead of having the Janissaries eating from his hands, he swiftly has them furious at him. Even, worse by the time he's realized this, the movement has grown beyond his power to suppress. And there are other side effects.
The combination of rumors of Selim's demise and the manifest instability at the capital results in uprisings--including quite a few in the very Anatolian regions that the Sultan passed through on his way to deal with Bayezid. Some declare for the late Bayezid, unaware that he's dead--others declare for the even later Mustafa, in a blissful belief that he simply can't be dead--a parcel of Greeks rise up for the very late indeed Constantine XIII, whom they believe has risen from the dead to help them take back 'their' city--and perhaps the largest group rises up in the general notion that they want some... change. They aren't sure what. Just something.
Thus Selim stands simultaneously triumphant and in dire danger. He has one consolation--Persia is in no condition to attack him, despite rumors that they hold a fifth son of Bayezid in reserve to justify just that.[8] For even as Persia struck west to attack the Turks through catspaws, their neighbor to the east is striking west as well--the goal of the Suris' long-standing preparations has been revealed, and it is not their neighbors to the south, but Persia. Islam Shah leads the first troops himself, claiming that he strikes both to save Persia from the Safavids--AND to avenge his dead kinsman, Akbar, killed in his very presence by agents of the Persian throne, when he had gone to such lengths to rescue him from Shah Tamasp's clutches. Yes, facing the Suri juggernaut would be enough to make ANY monarch blanche in the best of circumstances--and is most assuredly enough to get the Persians to agree that, yes, there's really no need to pursue this any further--in fact, there never really was a REAL war going on here at all--so both sides should simply dust themselves off, walk away and go on with their respective business.
Affairs in the rest of the Empire are a mixed bag. In Yemen, Al-Mutahhar's forces continue their relentless onslaught, pushing the Turks further and further out of the little nation--the Imam's success is inspiring Ethiopian Emperor Gelawdewos to begin his own campaign to reclaim Massawa. Egyptian governor Sinan's response to all this is strangely desultory, allowing the local authorities in Yemen to flounder. (That the people in charge there are old rivals of his is doubtless a coincidence.[9]) These are worrying developments.
However it is not all bad news--the conquest of Cyprus continues apace. Venice's planned counterstrike has ended with a fizzle, as the great fleet assembled was hit by a large storm in the Aegean, its remnants having to dock in Dalmatia. That ultimately spells the end of Famagusta's defense--in late September, they surrender[10]. Reportedly, Lala Mustafa is so angered by the discovery that he has been thwarted for so many months by so small a band of men that he is about to put the entire garrison to death in the most gruesome way he can think of when Joseph Nasi intercedes on their behalf, and essentially winds up paying for their release[11]. And so, with Cyprus conquered, Lala Mustafa busies himself gathering his loot--and there's a lot of it, and informing the Sultan that he'll be joining him in the crushing of these rebellions--shortly. Once he's sure that things in Cyprus are settled. Which again, should be shortly. Yep. Yep. Uh huh.
So on the whole, it's a mixed bag.
--Charles arrives in Genoa, to a grand reception by the Prince-Doge, eager to put on a show for his new in-laws. Carlo Farnese and Claude de Savoie are wed with great ceremony, and quickly establish the congenial, cynical relationship that will last their entire marriage. (Indeed, a popular legend states that, on discovering Farnese... entertaining one of her ladies of waiting, Claude states that at least she can be certain he can 'perform'.) Charles and Carlo Emmanuel strike up a fast friendship--indeed, young Bloodyhead shares a bit of advice with the Prince of Asturias regarding his rebellious subjects. "Find six or seven of the principal men," states the Prince-Doge, "and have them killed." Charles thanks his friend for the advice, but states that while he certainly sees the utility of such actions, especially for a man who has found himself in young Bloodyhead's position, he feels as a prince whose rule is sanctified by tradition, he has a certain leeway in these matters that Carlo Emmanuel might lack. That said, he is of course, going to keep that option on the table, if all else fails.
There's another Charles in attendence--Archduke Charles Francis of Tyrol, continuing his lengthy efforts to get some Italians to sign off on helping Austria some more. As these have all... well, failed, he's come to Genoa, trying to see if he can get the Prince of the Asturias to agree to come to their assistance once he's done crushing the rebellion. Relationships between the pair have never been that good--the Prince has always seen his cousin as something of a fool, while to the Archduke, Charles of the Asturias remains the boy who amused himself with pranks played at Charles Francis' expense during his youthful stay in Spain. Charles' brushes off Tyrol for as long as possible, but if there is one virtue one must impart to Charles Francis, it is persistance. He requires an answer, and he gets one--Prince Charles will do no such thing. Charles Francis continues to beg, talking of family duty and heritage. The Prince responds by gesturing towards the Alps and declaring that hidden in those mountains lies the Habichtsburg, the family fortress for which they are named. The Hapsburgs have not held this little castle for centuries, but it is the place from which their family sprung. Charles asks the Archduke if he would spend blood and treasure to change this situation, and gain back what was lost. Charles Francis replies of course not. The Prince nods, states 'Precisely', and ends the discussion.
Charles Francis isn't quite sure he completely gets that, but he thinks he sees the gist of it--the Prince of Spain has abandoned Austria to its fate. He will return home to Vienna and report this, then find what solace he can in the fact that his wife has at last born him a son. Young Ferdinand will join his sisters Maria Christiana and Gregoria Maximilania[12] in the Archduke's growing family.
As for the other Charles von Hapsburg, the Prince of Asturias will leave Genoa on his way to the Free County shortly thereafter, accompanied by Farnese, Farnese's new wife, and Farnese's new brother-in-law, young Bloodyhead himself. The plan is to stop in the Free County, then start negotiating with the Prince of Asturias' brother-in-law, Charles of Lorraine, for passage into the Burgundian Netherlands. True, Lorraine is fighting against Austria as a member of the Heidelberg Compact, deeply involved in French politics--that's WHY he's Charles von Hapsburg's brother-in-law, after all--but the Prince of Asturias feels certain they can come to an arrangement.
--John II of Denmark begins his reign proper by starting the grand campaign in the Northern War his brother was planning. (He also sends a few troops into the Archbishopric of Bremen, now fairly denuded of defenses now that his brother-in-law has rushed to the Elector of Saxony's aide, but that's a fairly minor desultory thing.) It is far less grand then the campaign Frederick wanted to have--John will not lead his troops, and he will not launch two simultaneous attacks into Norway and Sweden. No, instead he pretends that he'll do that--and then just sends troops into Norway. And for the first time in a while, luck is with the Danes--the mountains passes between Norway and Sweden are close to impassible for months thanks to a particularly nasty winter, allowing the Danish army to roll into the occupied sections of Norway with very little resistance. By the time Swedish forces can make through the mountains to reinforce their fellows, the Danes have made it all the way to Trondelag--and equally worrying, Erik, despite promises to lead his troops personally, is nowhere to be found. For a while, it looks as if the Sweden adventure in Norway, after coming so close to a total success, is over. And then he appears--Erik XIV, King of Sweden and (parts of) Norway! His armies rally, and the Danes are forced back. John, though slightly miffed at seeing what briefly looked like a miraculous total victory snatched out of his hand, is ultimately quite satisfied with this campaign--he's regained a good chunk of the territory his brother lost, and demonstrated that Denmark is most certainly not out of this fight. And so, with that done--he offers Sweden a five year truce at the current lines of occupation. Denmark is still in exceedingly shaky financial shape, and John needs a breather to get things back in order. While there's definitely a risk that Sweden will take this chance to entrench their position, John doubts that throwing ever smaller armies at them over the duration instead will significantly help the Danish cause enough to make it worth the effort. After all--the Swedes aren't the only ones who will be shoring up their position during this truce.
Sweden takes the offer eagerly, while doing its best not to show that. You see, there's a fascinating little story behind Erik's little absence--during the council meeting where it was discovered that King John had snookered them all, Erik grew very agitated, and eventually, stood up in the middle of it, stripped off all his clothing, and announced he was going out for a walk. The Council were... quite baffled by all this, and by the time they'd gathered their wits the King had slipped away. After two weeks of searching, they discovered Erik, dressed as a peasant and working on a small farm[13]. At first, he attempted to claim he wasn't Erik---when that didn't work, he asked why they were looking for him, as his brother Johan was the king[14]. Looking at a genuine crisis here, in no small part due to Erik's success at getting rid of any rival claimants for the throne, Joran Persson and his fellows resorted to someone they never thought they would--Erik's wife, Karin, who went to her husband, and begged him to please, please, please calm down. Erik listened to her, returned to Stockholm, and, after a week of rest, announced he was fine now, really--it was just... nerves--following which he hied off to Norway. Needless to say, this newfound awareness of the King's mental fragility makes everyone--even Erik--rather eager to take a break from all this fighting.
And so, one of the lengthy pauses that will make the Long Northern War so... well, long, begins. John II has other matters to concern him. You see, while looking at Denmark's finances, its newly-crowned king has made a rather worrying discovery. His late brother Frederick mortgaged quite a bit of the Danish Crown holdings in Schleswig and Holstein to keep his various war efforts funded. Not necessarily a big deal on its own--this was, after all, a popular way for Danish monarchs to pay for their wars in the past. However, this time, something odd has occurred--someone has been buying those mortgages. And that someone--is John's cousin, John Christian of Haderslav. It appears that John Christian, thanks to the funds he inherited from his late mother, as well as his wife's own inheritance, is quite a wealthy man--and the young nobleman has increased that wealth, through a wide variety of cagy financial dealings of which his landgrabs in Schleswig-Holstein are merely the tip of the iceberg. (For example, to John II's infinite surprise, the business trip to Bremen that lead to Frederick II's discomfort was an ACTUAL business trip instead of what most people assumed, a visit to a mistress of some sort.) Indeed, John Christian is one of the richest men in Europe--and poised to be quite possibly THE richest, as in addition to the land in the Duchy he's already managed to acquire, he's heir to a third of the Duchy of Schleswig-Holstein. John II is naturally worried about having such an over-mighty subject--especially as John Christian will be, on becoming the next of Duke of Schleswig and Holstein in Haderslav, a sovereign lord in his own right[15]. John Christian responds to all of this attention and suspicion by setting out on a trip to visit his uncle, the King of England. A little distance might be best--and his agents in England have brought him news of some exciting new developments there that could make a visit worth his while.
--France remains deceptively calm. The Prince of Conde is more or less excused for killing a man--the Huguenots are getting de facto ignored by the authorities, even if they are de jure heretics--the Cardinal de Lorraine continues to hold his "Gallican Rite" services at Reims--Dauphin Francois is the acknowledged heir, and Henri of Orleans' supporters limit themselves to toasts to "Dauphin Henri" in darkened rooms at night. But even as the French ship of state appears to sail placidly along, it is quite clear to the most casual onlookers that there are problems. England's exceedingly devious ambassador, Francis Walsingham, notes that a secret war of assassination and assault is being waged between the ultraCatholics and the most fanatical Huguenots. Caught in the middle--the moderates, themselves a varied group that ranges from conservative Catholics who don't approve of the killing, like Jacques de Savoie, Duke of Nemours, to liberal Catholic reformers, like the Cardinal de Lorraine and Michel de Hopital, who imagine that there is still some hope of a compromise, and likewise, don't like the killing.
Needless to say, King Henri is becoming rather desperate for a solution, which makes Coligny's 'declare war on Spain' scheme look very, very good. But the Admiral has a rival for the King's ear--Louis de Bourbon, Duke of Montpensier. Louis isn't a very charming man, but he is a devout Catholic, and to his mind, the second in line to the throne since the Estates made it clear that heretics need not apply. (His cousin, Cardinal de Bourbon, would disagree, but as Montpensier sees it, the whole "Cardinal" thing is standing in Charles de Bourbon's way.) True, Louis has a personality that could curdle milk, but he and Henri can commiserate about ingrate children deserting the True Faith--Louis has seen quite a few of his many daughters go Huguenot on him[16]. And while Montpensier may be quite hostile to Coligny--who he sees as a member of what he calls the 'secret Huguenot Party'--he isn't hostile at all to the Admiral's idea of war with Spain. No, that one he thinks is a right good deal, though he differs in the approach--some effort in the Seventeen Provinces, yes, but Italy--Italy is the place to go for, especially as it has far less bothersome heretics. And so as these two men make it clear that war with Spain is most assuredly the way to go, and that the only thing to debate is the 'how to go about it', Henri starts to really look for a way around that niggling little problem, paying for it. And that is a whopper.
Taxes are right out--Henri is raising every cent he can off them to pay off his old debts. While he could theoretically go to the Estates-General for more, he's hesistant to call them again and dubious of their being willing to pay out for a war. That leaves loans, and as mentioned previously, the state of credit in Europe is not very good at the moment, with France considered a slightly dodgy bet to boot. And yet it seems to Henri there is a great untapped source of wealth right under his nose.
Recently, Henri's brother-in-law, Emanuel Philibert bought the old title of Count of Geneva from his distant cousin the Duke of Nemours. Nemours did not think much of this transaction--he needed the money, and as it stood, the title was all but completely titular, and indeed, his newly earned Duchy is far more prestigious. Emanuel Philibert on the other hand, has been quietly seizing control of much of the Genevan territory, often purporting to act as an agent of the area's Prince-Bishop. That the Duke (Consort) of Savoy has designs on the city itself is all but an open secret.[17] However, old Ironhead's paying so promptly has raised Henri's interest, as the King realized that, what with one thing and another that he happens to have a prominent banking concern as a de facto vassal. And so, Henri II starts making inquiries about if his nephew, young Bloodyhead, might see his way to loaning the French Crown a little money...
--Charles of the Asturias and his party arrives in Lorraine, where they are greeted by the Prince's brother-in-law, Charles III, and sister-in-law, Claude de Valois, who is pregnant with the couple's first child[18]. (His cousins, Claude and Rene de Guise are off in Franconia with their young nephew, Henri, Duke of Guise, giving the lad a first hand look at war as they battle it out with the Bishop of Wursburg's troops alongside the Hessians[19].) Despite having been involved in the Second Schmakaldic War for four years, Lorraine remains remarkably untouched by the fighting thanks largely to the Duke's cagy policies--indeed, even as the Holy Roman Empire and France explode into strife and violence, Lorraine is an oasis of calm. The Duke's efforts include going out of his way to avoid mentioning the whole fact that he's at war with the Prince of the Asturias' cousins, and occupying Hapsburg territory in Alsace, something the Prince shows his appreciation of by not bringing the matter up at all. Indeed, the two Charles manage to start off civilly with each other and move onto to being dear buddies and chums. And they are not alone in that--fellow Charleses Carlo Farnese of Parma and Charles Emmanuel de Savoie likewise get along famously, with all four winding up swearing brotherhood and support to the others in the future in what most casual observers chalk up to a bit of youthful spirits that will go nowhere.
Which shows that the world at large really doesn't get these four guys, yet.
Meanwhile, in Burgundy, things have managed to simultaneously settle down and subtly get worse. While the Council of State have managed to seize control of most of the Seventeen Provinces and restore order, there are areas they don't hold. Much of this is Loyalist territory, like Mons--though once again, the Council insists that they are loyal, loyal subjects to the Spanish crown, so would people stop throwing around the word 'rebel'--but one place isn't. The city of Brussels, nominal capital of the Duchy, remains under the rule of mobs so angry that the Council doesn't dare go there--they are meeting in Antwerp. But one man does--Count Brederode, back from Heidelberg with a head full of Protestant zeal, and vague promises of assistance from the Elector-Palatinate. Brederode brings most of the Beggars with him, and soon they are in control of the city, thanks to the fact that they are as fanatical as the mobs, and thus good eggs in their book. While none of them dare make a move, it's almost certain that this will change when the Prince of the Asturias arrives, to play spark to the powderkeg.
Fun times.
Eventually, Carlo Emmanuelle of Savoie heads home--Bloodyhead likes to keep his time away from Genoa short, just in case people start getting... ideas. The Prince-Doge has come out of this with connection to a small group of ambitious young men who, like himself, occupy ambivalent positions in the European power structure. A connection that's going to be getting much closer, very soon. Charles and his party remain in Lorraine longer, enjoying pleasant parties and feasts in a world where others are starving and fighting. The young Prince continues to get to know his brother-in-law, and vice versa, firmly establishing that they are buddies. Despite the whole dynastic rivalry thing.
--The armies of Hungary and Transylvania take to the field, under the leadership of newly-minted Hungarian Palatinate Mihály Mérey[20], and Transylvanian Palatinate Istvan Batory. This slightly unwieldy division of power is the result of the strange relationship between Hungary and Transylvania--not exactly seperate lands, precisely, but not quite the same land either. Needless to say, Mérey and Batory get along like two cats that have been shoved into the same small bag, bickering over rank and precedence. (Janos Sigismund is... elsewhere, though his two generals go with his blessing.) The practical effect is that each man is leading his own army into the field against Alba, with as little effort to concert their forces as possible. The results... are interesting.
Mérey leads a good old fashioned Hungarian army, doing good old-fashioned Hungarian things, like charging well-established pike lines on the off-chance that they might break. It doesn't accomplish much--aside from killing Hungarians, frequently in novel ways--but it makes them feel good, at least, until the killing part. Indeed, Mérey is amongst the fatalities, having his horse shot out from under him as he leads a bold charge--which considering he's more a jurist than a general is simultaneously impressive and expected[21]. Alba starts getting his hopes up--if he can simply make the Zapolya loyalists' armies disintegrate, than it's likely that all of Janos Sigismund's gains will evaporate into the dew. Unfortunately for Alba, he's facing Istvan Bathory.
Bathory is a dangerous, wily man, who if he isn't quite Alba's equal as a general is pretty damn close, and has the advantage of operating on his home turf. Further, there are many things that Istvan is far, far better than Alba than--like politics and propaganda. As one later historian will note, Alba is a commander with a genius for winning battles and campaigns--Bathory is a commander with a talent for winning wars. The pair will not meet in battle this year--Bathory will avoid battle, and Alba will respond in kind once he figures out what the Transylvanian Palatine is up to. Instead, the pair circle around each other in a sort of elaborate war of nerves, hoping to force the other army into collapse. Bathory supplements with maneuvers with raids to despoil supplies and ambushes on Alba's scouts and foraging parties, the bodies of which tend to be discovered afterwards in rather unnerving conditions. In truth, neither of them quite manages to break the other--however, Alba's troops are just starting to discover the disadvantage of fighting in Hungary, which is best described as 'fighting in Hungary'. In an era when having your men die in droves because of illness is simply a part of war, Hungary manages to be infamous for killing soldiers on campaign. (Miguel Cervantes, who's been ransomed from his Protestant captors only to find himself yanked along on this expedition will later refer to Hungary as 'a place made by the Devil as a sort of rough draft of Hell'.) And so the flower of Spanish chivalry discovers the joys of catching typhus and dysentery, even as they discover the other joys of getting bushwhacked by howling Transylvanian huzzars and getting chopped to pieces-parts that the Transylvanians leave for your friends to find. And so after a few months of this, Alba retires his forces to Raab, greatly diminished in size and spirits. Istvan's forces likewise retire--gotta get the harvest in, after all--leaving the Duke of Alba considering his options. They are not pleasant--without more soldiers, he will not only be unable to expand his hold on Hungary, he won't be able to hold what he's taken. Neutra and Presburg are both proving unsteady, and even Raab is showing signs of questionable loyalty. Alba can replace some of his losses with Hungarian loyalists, but he's rather uncertain about doing this, and even then he's not certain he'll be able to get enough to keep a functional army for long. And then more bad news comes--first, from Croatia, then from Bohemia.
Croatia has proven a bastion of loyalty to the Hapsburgs through all this chaos--but not all of Croatia is so loyal. Slavonia, while traditionally part of the Croatian patrimony, is different from Croatia proper--its nobles (Magyars for the most part--the actual Slavonians in Slavonia are mostly peasants, and thus unimportant) prickly and independent, with a surprising numbers of Protestants among them. One of those prickly, independent Protestant nobles is Istvan Bathory's cousin and--ahem--brother-in-law Gyorgy Bathory, Count of Ecsed[22], and needless to say, his ties with the Transylvanian Bathorys and his Reformed Protestant Faith have made his loyalty to the Hapsburgs rather... questionable. To the point of assembling a group of like-minded nobles, calling his men together, and declaring for Janos Sigismund. Which more or less shifts his loyalty from 'questionable' to 'nonexistant'. And it gets worse. Even as Alba deals with the news that instead of rushing to reinforce and assist him, the Croats want HIM to reinforce and assist THEM, he finally discovers what Janos Sigismund has been up to. Him, and most of Europe, when the King of Hungary turns up in Prague, wife and child in tow, to accept the Bohemian Crown.
It is time to backtrack. Janos Sigismund has been offering himself as a candidate to the Crown of Wenseclaus more or less since it became available. And for most of that time, his candidacy has been close to a joke, one of dozens of ambitious minor noblemen with a vague claim to the Bohemian Throne throwing their hats into the ring (albeit one with more territory under his command than most). That all changed last year, thanks to two things--Janos' successful bid for the crown of Hungary, AND the Bohemians and the Leipzig Bond's growing desire for a King of Bohemia. As the war drags on and Austria digs in its heels, Bohemians find the interregnum increasingly intolerable, while the Leipzig Bond has started eyeing what we would term 'the nuclear option' more favorably--crown a King in Bohemia, use the FOUR electors now allied with them to elect an Emperor, and then, perhaps, start throwing around the imperial bans. (It is worth noting that the increasingly de facto--and soon to be de jure--Bond member Albert of Bavaria is very fond of this idea, and likes to point out that he is married to a potential claimant to the Austrian lands, and could thus supply the new Protestant order with a Protestant Archduke for them, should that prove necessary. The unofficial Wittelsbach motto in these matters perhaps best being summed up as 'go big, or go home'.) And so, with Janos Sigismund Zapolya suddenly looking impressive, the Bohemian Estates have started to pay attention to his pointing out how he has Jageillion blood, and gosh darn it, some Piast too, making him a pretty excellent candidate. And of course, Zapolya's reiterating his dedication to religious liberty strikes the mix of Ultraquists, Moravian Brethren, Lutherans and Catholics that sit in the Estates as quite nice--and his statements that he views the power of local assemblies as a righteous and God-ordained form of government and would defend the liberties of Bohemia to his dying breath strikes them as even nicer.
And so, as the Zapolya stock rose, Janos' man on the spot, Hungarian (and Transylvanian) Treasurer Gaspar Bekes[23], told his sovereign that all he had to do to become King of Bohemia was come to Bohemia. Janos was of mixed feelings on this--while the idea of gaining the Crown of Wenseclaus in addition to the Crown of St. Stephen was quite nifty to him, the idea of leaving the front to go to Prague struck him as somewhat cowardly. However, his generals assured him that his shoring up the Hungarian position by gaining further glory, recognition--and also funds--by gaining the Bohemian throne would be the best way to serve their noble cause, a position that his wife supported by enthusiastically begging her husband to please, please, PLEASE become the King of Bohemia. And so, Janos II of Hungary is now also Jan II of Bohemia--the numbers happen to match up--to the great comfort of many leading Magyars who were rather happy to get something that kept their eager young King away from the battlefield. That it was also a bang-up weapon against the Hapsburgs was just an added bonus.
Alba, on discovering this, becomes very grim--this has weakened a weak position further. He highly doubts he can hold onto what he's gained so far, much less retake Hungary unless Austria sees a remarkable recovery that both strengthens their hand diplomatically, and leaves them with a lot of free troops. (And some would argue that Alba is being optimistic here, as he doesn't really consider how much his depredations have alienated even Catholic Hungarians.) And even worse, the Duke's feeling quite ill, having contracted what will turn out to be one nasty case of malaria, in the start of what is going to be some very bad health for Old Bloodybones.
As for Janos Sigismund, he's on top of the world--the true heirs of the Jagellions are retaking what the Hapsburgs stole from them! (Admittedly, the Hapsburgs can make a decent case that they are the true heirs of the Jagellions, or at least as true as the Polish Jagellions and the Zapolyas, but they're losing now, so people are already starting to adjust their opinions.) The Zapolya causes of religious toleration, representative monarchy and Unitarianism are on the march! The King of Hungary is certain great things are in store for him in the future.
He is absolutely right on this. Oh, is he right.
--In England, the recovered Henry IX rushes to Rochester, where he reunites with his wife. After briefly getting Mary's reassurance that he's as good-looking as ever, the King expresses his great delight seeing her, and she responds with vigor. Once they've gotten that out of their system--for an hour or two, at least--the pair gets on with the business of running the nation. Some things quietly resolve themselves with minimal action on their part--for example, Norfolk quietly retires to his estates again to work on Brutus, thus allowing everyone to ignore all the politicking he was doing while the King was on death's door. (Hope springs eternal for Henry Howard in the matter of taking over a regency, for all that he likes to state that he's becoming an old man these days.) He also has a recently bereaved grandson to take care of--Surrey's Scottish wife is among those carried off by the plague, to the sorrow of her son, her absent husband, and some of her old admirers back in Scotland.
Other things are resolved with a bit of work--a recent vacancy in Winchester allows Edmund Grindal to finally exit his see at London to the mutual satisfaction of that worthy and the citizens of the city. As Grindal moves on to his new bishopric, his place is taken by the widely-respected preacher John Bradford[24], a Puritan-leaning divine who is nonetheless held in high regard by most Libertines. Not every matter is handling itself so well--the widely-despised Thirlby remains in Westminster, despite constant calls for his ouster from groups as varied as the mobs on the street to the Fellows of Westminster College. And connected to all that, there's the Dispute of the Hymnals, which has not so much calmed down as become something people are becoming alarmingly used to. Indeed, even worse to Henry's mind, the debate about one set of worship practices is leading to debates about OTHER practices, and even worse, debates into those esoteric subjects that, as a rule, usually matter only to a select few, except for those times when they matter to everyone.
And of course, there's the business up north, where permissions must be granted and orders given to allow Richmond to deal with the Homes and their allies as swiftly as possible. Irritating, but the sort of thing that happens when two nations that used to be rivals are joined together. As the official wheels of justice start to pick up speed, the Borderers watch in horror as their hopes of this whole matter getting swept under the carpet by the ill-equipped and embarassed authorities vanish into the dew, especially as the authorities are proving well-equipped and furious. Some attempt to fight on defiantly--Lord Home tries that, and gets killed for his troubles. Others respond by another age-old Borderer custom, racing to be the first to sell your former confederates out in order to get the best deal.
And finally, Henry notes with approval a few diplomatic matters that his wife signed off on which only serve to confirm his excellent opinion of her good sense and judgement. And as these things resolve themselves, it's back to enjoying their reunion. Which is one reason no one is surprised when Mary announces to the Court at the end of the year that she is once again pregnant.
--The bad news from Saxony, Hungary, Croatia and Bohemia sets off a chain reaction in Vienna, where angry crowds have been looking for an excuse to start something. And start something they do, in the form of massive riots. Maria of Spain starts ordering her guards to break things up--this turns out to be a bad idea, as the crowds easily trounce the outnumbered men, and get REALLY riled up. As the situation starts further going downhill in a hurry, Maria of Spain launches into her version of a panic--the one where she starts indicating that she'd really like it if the soldiers would start killing people, in very large numbers, if they could. And as the people scream "DOWN WITH THE SPANISH BITCH! DOWN WITH THE SPANISH BITCH!", lo the savior emerges--suddenly, Ferdinand II is there, in his archducal apparal, quietly asking everyone to calm down. And the people do so, not least because they're amazed to see him--rumor has had the Archduke of Austria, claimant-King of Croatia, and "King of the Romans by Necessity" an ill-shaven lunatic mumbling to himself in his apartments. Ferdinand gets the soldiers and the mobs to step down, and then takes control of the government, once again.
In truth, Ferdinand has been more or less recovered from his melancholia for the last few months, and has simply been biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to come back into power, and sweep his (by now loathed) wife out of it. He's been helped back to sanity by his art dealer, Jacopo Strada, who's not only introduced Ferdinand to a few new art treasures, but also his daughter, Lavina, with whom nature took its course[25]. Once again, the moody Archduke's mental health is improved greatly by having an attractive woman tell him that he's not an utter failure that everyone hates. And so, after catching up on how things stood for Austria--which was fairly easy to sum as 'worse'--Ferdinand made his plans, and now, he has made his move. Maria watches in horror as she is quietly ejected from power, and even worse, is shocked at how quickly it all happens. After all, in Ferdinand's previous recovery, she had plenty of allies and supporters. But that was then, when Ferdinand was the weak-willed Archduke who'd let Bohemia slip through his fingers and had all but handed victory to the Elector of Saxony on a silver platter, and Maria, love her or hate her, was the woman of iron who'd kept Austria in the fight. Now after several years of her own failures, Ferdinand is the man who could have spared them all this misery, and Maria is the unnatural virago who's spent the blood and wealth of Austria to... well, ruin everything. And as Maria finds, she suffers from one unfair disadvantage in this--while a woman can come into power in the manner she has, she can't afford to fail in the manner she has when she does it. As opposed to her husband in his eclipse, there are no counselors quietly seeking her out and trying to curry favor at a time when a little could go a long way. Maria is abandoned, and all but forgotten, even by those she has assisted. Her brother is perhaps the closest thing she has to an ally, and even Philip seems to mostly humor her now.
As for Ferdinand, he immediately get his people on ending as much of this war as possible. Leipzig and Heidelberg both receive offers of a truce, while in Hungary, Alba's new orders are to concentrate on holding what he has. (Alba notes that those are tall orders enough.) Unlike his wife, Ferdinand has no delusions of turning defeat into victory--he knows that concessions will have to be made. But this should not be understood that the Archduke and King wishes to cravenly give in--Ferdinand is going to work to get the House of Austria in the best place it can be when all of this is done. And so he will plot, he will plan, and he will spin, spin, spin to make it so.
And as he does this, Austria's bureaucrats start remembering just why it was they were looking forward to Ferdinand's accession, way back when--Maria may be more firm, but she lacks her husband's penetrating and subtle intelligence. Ferdinand sees the trouble before his house, yes, but he also sees that all is not hopeless. Both Schmalkaldic Leagues want to bargain, which will allow for Austria to play them against each other to an extent--further, there are plenty of weaknesses to exploit. The Wettins, the Archduke notes, are hungry, but eager not to appear so--the Bavarian Wittelsbachs are hungry and don't give a damn who knows it--and the Hohenzollerns are feeling neglected. And that is simply in the Leipzig Bond--the Heidelberg Compact is an utter swamp of intrigues and internal rivalries for him to play with. Turning to the matter of his daughters' marriages, Ferdinand's feelings are mixed. Eleanor's upcoming marriage to Philip is... complicated. Ferdinand's feelings for his cousin and brother-in-law are about as negative as Philip's are of him. Aside from being the brother and familial ally of the haridan he's had the misfortune to marry, Ferdinand sees Philip as being dangerously rigid in thought, and lacking in understanding of the Imperial situation. "His mind," he will write at a later date, "is this great, ponderous thing which when it starts to move simply continues in the same direction unless it strikes something violently, and is forced to change." The Archduke is especially offended at the Spanish King's constant suggestions that Ferdinand is flirting with Lutheranism--as devout a Catholic as Philip or Maria, Ferdinand is simply more aware of the realities of the Imperial power than they are. And on top of all this, Ferdinand loved his daughter, and will miss her. And yet he sees the marriage's necessity. Spain and Austria are drifting apart, something Prince Charles' comments to the Archduke of Tyrol make perfectly clear. The alliance of Philip and Ferdinand's daughteris a way of containing that drift, if not stopping it.
His thoughts on the marriage of Anna to Eric von Calenberg are far simpler--that was a bloody waste. All the Prince has done has been to increase his own standing, exploiting Hapsburg weakness for personal aggrandizement, just like his Protestant counterparts. His only action that could even be seen as an attempt to advance the Austrian cause was a bloody, costly failure. Then there's Eric himself, a thoroughly disreputable character who Ferdinand despises. "What a son-in-law she has inflicted upon me," he reportedly notes. And finally, there's the broken betrothal with Charles Emmanuel of Savoie, for which the Prince-Doge has been pestering Austria quietly for over a year now--with Ferdinand notes unhappily, a true lack of warmth that is down right frightening when one thinks about it. When people are actually happy they don't have to marry into your house, it's a bad sign. Still, Savoie is at least going through the forms. That's... a small mercy.
--In Brazil, Acting Governor-General Alavaro readies his forces--the Portuguese Brazilian administration have by this time, despite their internal confusion, realized that France is making a concerted effort to steal away a sizable chunk of the colony. Alavaro's plans for this are to force the French and their native allies into an open battle. It's not necessarily a bad plan--the Portuguese have used measures like it in the past to crush native resistance--but it still requires native allies, and... well, Alavaro has done his damnedest to alienate them. As well as the Jesuits who have earned their trust, and a good chunk of the settlers who deal with them, and so...
Look, let's just go with the quick version--Alavaro gets his forces into a massive ambush that sees them slaughtered to a man, their bodies dragged off by the victorious Tamoyo warriors, save for the Governor-General, who they so despise that they leave his corpse where it lies. The Jesuits and the Portuguese in the region come to an accomodation with the French and the Tamoyo, while around Salvador and the north, people start realizing that the situation is a lot bigger than they thought. Indeed, even as he readies the defenses, the man who has found himself de facto in charge Duarte Coelho de Albuquerque[26], Captain-General of Pernambuco, sends his brother and co-Captain Jorge to Lisbon asking how he is to proceed "in this unprecedented colonial war".
As for the French, they are jubilant. De Villegaigon and Legrende Boissy are both pleased--at a stroke, their careful diplomacy and colony building have paid off big time. Admittedly, France's new possessions are rather disturbingly full of Portuguese who have demonstrated that they are not exactly big on loyalty--but that's a technicality. For now, they've won. Boissy meanwhile discovers that his native 'wife' has indeed given him a son, who she calls 'Cunhambebe' after her father, despite his instructions, and who Andre Thevet has christened 'Louis', quite possibly after a certain French king dearer to the monk then the present one. Boissy starts referring to the boy as 'Henri' anyway, and soon for most people in Saint Dominic, he is 'Louis Henri Cunhambebe'.
As names go, it is certainly one with character.
--The world of British pretenders is rocked by two events. The first--which is arguably the more apparently minor--occurs in France, where John Knox and Antoinette Stuart, Countess of Montgomery meet. Things start out well--Antoinette is polite, having adjusted her opinion of Knox upwards by many degrees since her religious about-face, and Knox is... well, not impressed, but quickly becomes convinced of her sincerity in her conversion to the Reformed Faith. Indeed, it looks like an alliance between the pair might just happen--when Knox makes a mistake, and lets loose a disparaging remark about the late Marie de Guise. Now, Antoinette and Mary may not agree on most subjects, but there is one that they do--they love their dear, departed momma with a great passion. And so, John Knox goes from enjoying a pleasant conversation with the Countess to having her throw things at him while calling for her husband to eject this brute from her presence--NOW! As John Knox watches that plan go up in flames, he decides to try something of a longshot, and visit... an old friend.
The second, more obvious event happens in Poland, where Charles Stuart finds himself dealing with a pair of unexpected visitors--a young Flemish girl "Emilia", reportedly of good family, and her son... ahem, Karl Stuart. Emilia, you see, states that she and Charles were... married back during his stay in the Netherlands in a secret ceremony, with little Karl being the result of this union. Charles denies this. Oh, he doesn't deny that he and Emilia were involved, or that little Karl is his--he really can't because Karl is his father's spitting image--but he does deny the marriage part. Or that it was a real marriage--Charles really isn't very coherant in his denials, just very fervant that Emilia is misrepresenting things slightly.
Needless to state, this does not help the young pretender's status with his wife Elizabeth Hamilton, who runs off with little Alexander to her estate, and refuses to see her husband. Or the rest of the Hamiltons, especially her brothers who catch Charles off-guard one night, and beat him black and blue. In fact, most of the various exiles start really wishing that they had a better Catholic King to rally around. And so, Charles, bloodied and bruised, finds himself leaning on the handful who stay close--such as Hawkins, Drake, and Courtenay. All of whom are trumpeting the good news--despite this embarrassing setback, the British realms are ready to recieve their true king. Their allies are in place--all that they need is their king to crown. It will be grand--amazingly grand--grand enough to wipe out this present scandal completely.
In his present state, Charles Stuart finds that idea very tempting.
--In Russia, Ivan's brideshow goes off... well, about as well as can be expected, initially. Ivan, after some internal debate, selects young Eudoxia Subrova[27] as his bride-to-be to the... infinite delight of the woman and her family, and the more infinite delight of the Tsar, who decides to celebrate with incredible drunken revels. The young tsarevich, Dmitri, attempts to retire early in the night--by all accounts, a quiet, studious, religious personality, very much like his mother, Dmitri has never enjoyed his father's licentiousness. Usually, Ivan lets him be--but tonight, he gets offended. The Tsar declares that his son and heir shall share his father's joy like a TRUE son and a TRUE Russian, and forces him to down a huge goblet of drink. And then another. And then another. And then another. And then...
Well, the exact number is disputed, but the results aren't. Ivan forces his son to drink himself unconscious. And poor little Dmitri never wakes up again. Ivan, on finding the tsarevich's cold body the next day, reportedly shrieks "Oh, God, I have killed him, I have killed my darling boy, I have killed him!"
The wedding is prolonged for a month, as Ivan indulges himself in a bit of ultrareligious mourning. And in revising his opinions--the oprichniks are sent to arrest Vladimir of Staritsa and his family, who are clearly guilty of having poisoned the tsarevich. And then, with his cousin and kin awaiting the tsar's justice, Ivan ties the knot in a marriage ceremony that is one part wedding, one part terrifying declaration that everyone is out to get him. And so, as the year rattles to a close, Russia is startled as a situation it was sure had hit rock bottom gets worse.
And once again--Ivan's just getting started, people.
--The Duke of York's Irish campaign sees two significant triumphs that manages to quiet any doubters back home as to whether he was the man for the job. Firstly, Essex crushes the Originalist forces besieging the isolated little city of Limerick, granting the English a base on Ireland's western shore. The inhabitants of Limerick have reached the 'eating rat and shoes' part of the siege, making their meals slightly less wholesome than the average Irishman's over the last couple years, and thus they are overjoyed when Essex comes in with new supplies. Essex celebrates his victory by preaching a sermon in Limerick's cathedral, taking for his text a personal favorite, Ezekiel 25:15-17--"Thus saith the Lord GOD; Because the Philistines have dealt by revenge, and have taken vengeance with a despiteful heart, to destroy it for the old hatred; therefore thus saith the Lord GOD; Behold, I will stretch out mine hand upon the Philistines and I will cut off the Cher'ethim, and destroy the remnant of the seacoast. And I will execute great vengeance upon them with furious rebukes; and they shall know that I am the LORD, when I shall lay my vengeance upon them."[28]
It is, everyone agrees, a hell of a sermon, which gets the Earl of Essex's meaning across--God is pissed at the Originalists, and He has chosen His instruments for demonstrating this pissedness, among them, the Earl of Essex.
The other triumph occurs in east, where Shane O'Neill's cousin and former rival Matthew O'Neill attempts to ambush a troop of Highlanders under the leadership of Sorley Boy MacDonald. Unfortunately for Matthew, the Duke of York's been studying the Originalists' tactics and thus keeping the various parts of his army in communication so that one part can quickly come to the aid of another part if the Irish rebels try one of their 'divide and conquer' attacks. Edward Tudor himself comes to the mens' rescue at the head of his forces, capturing Matthew, and earning Sorley Boy's eternal gratitude. Indeed, the Scots are starting to warm to Edward who, underneath that overly-prim, bookish exterior, is the kind of burly warrior-prince they respect.
It is as he writes to inform Henry of his successes that Edward gets two bits of news from back home. Firstly, Diane has given birth to a son, who, following his express commands not to name him 'Edward' she has named... Edwin. Edward decides to view this as a good thing, as opposed to the other bit of news his mistress has for him which is...
Well, weird and complicated.
You see, earlier in the year, Diane's former father-in-law, Francois de Cleve, Duke of Nevers, died, leaving his titles to his eldest son, Francois the Younger. Alas, Francois the Younger followed his father in departing the mortal coil only a few months later[29], taken by a nasty illness. As Francois the Younger had had no children, his titles would have been taken up by his brother Jacques if he'd still been around, but as he wasn't, that made it rather academic. And so, Francois the Elder's eldest daughter, Henrietta, and her husband, Louis Gonzaga, Prince of Mantua have petitioned to be granted the Duchy, and gotten it [30], thanks to their friendship with Queen Catherine and King Henri--the King in particular is quite taken with the dashing and charming Louis, the latest in what is becoming a long line of surrogate sons to take the place of his exceedingly disappointing actual sons. He is especially impressed with Louis' extreme and rather fanatical Catholicism, though the young Italian's constant reiterations that Italy is looking to throw off the Spanish yoke and will welcome the French as liberators if (and read that 'if' a 'when') another Hapsburg-Valois Italian War starts up.
Naturally, the Crown's decision in this gains the onus of the rest of the family. Henrietta and her husband are... less than well thought of by her various Cleve and de la Marck kin, who generally look on this as another example of the pair's greedy opportunistic nature. Antoine de Croy, husband to Henrietta's little sister Catherine, has to get bought off by his wife 'inheriting' the County of Eu[31], while youngest sister Marie's guardian, Jeanne of Navarre simply refuses to be mollified. Indeed, the Huguenot Queen starts insisting that, if a female succession is to be granted in this case, it should go to young Francoise de Cleves, as daughter of a rightful male heir, and further demonstrates her backing by having her people in England start looking into a betrothal between her son and the "Duchess of Nevers". Henri de Bourbon reacts to the suggestion that he be engaged to two-year old of dubious provenance with remarkable good humor.
The Crown's reaction to Jeanne's shenanigans are less good-humored--court officials produce a flurry of arguments as to why this is legally binding, while trying to skate around the "she's really a bastard" issue. The de la Marcks are a big family, as are the Cleves, and they stand behind Diane's 'Jacques and I had a brief rendevous during his besiegement of Calais, and the result was my dear daughter Francoise' story. It really wouldn't do for the Crown to offend them by officially disparaging them on this.
And so the Duke of York finds that his young... ward has become, in the view of some, a Duchess. It is, he decides, deucedly odd, and worth praying about.
--In Anatolia, Sultan Selim crushes his own batch of rebels as he marches back to Constantinople--a variety of religious malcontents that plague the region--and links up with the forces of Müezzinzade Ali Pasha, who's just finished up crushing Davit of Kartli, and thus comes with a bunch of Georgian auxiliaries. Indeed, Ali can boast of having spread the Ottoman supremacy over the rest of Georgia, having managed to browbeat the remaining Bagratoni princes into recognizing the Turkish sultan as their sovereign. Admittedly, this could cause trouble with the Persians, but considering the problems they're facing, Selim suspects they're going to let this one pass for now. Yep, Tahmasp's scheme might just have backfired completely.
If Selim keeps the throne, because... well, there've been complications.
As noted previously, Selim left his eldest son, Murad in charge back in Constantinople, and he wasn't very good at that. Now, what EXACTLY happened is disputed for centuries afterwards, being a chaotic jumble of events where it's tough to tell what people were planning and what they found themselves forced to do by circumstances or a bad mood. But the general outline is as follows--Murad sputters ineffectually, hesitating between encouraging the mobs and angry Janissaries, and putting them down, with his mother supporting the latter approach and his wife the first. Eventually, he reaches a decision, and agrees to meet with the leaders. What that decision was remains unknown--the fact that the leaders come suggests that he wants to strike a deal, but we don't because of what happens next. When Prince Murad goes to speak with them, one of the Janissary leaders realizes that he's accompanied by one of Nurbanu Sultan's favorites, and declares loudly that it's a trap, at which point he and his fellows fall on the Prince and his guard and kill them. Their blood up, they call on their followers and burst into the harem, where they track down Nurbanu Sultan, kill her, then find the rest of her sons, and kill them. They follow it up by finding Murad's "wife", and killing her. Having thus demonstrated their feeling towards the Sultan's favored wife and her blood, they then track down concubine #2, Selimiye Sultan, and bring out her eldest son, Abdullah, who they immediately honor by bowing before him, and calling him "Sultan".
Prince Abdullah responds with remarkable courage, declaring bluntly that he is a loyal son of his father--Allah keep him safe--and he will not dishonor his family bond by usurping the throne. The Janissaries, once it becomes certain that he means it, show their respect for his opinion by killing him[32]. They then drag out his younger brother Suleiman, who quickly states that, yes, yes, of course he sees that his father has disgraced the Imperial office, and please, please don't hold those sharp things so close to him.
With that done, the rebellion in Constantinople now has its own Pretender Sultan, so that it can spend its time trying to convince the other rebellions to follow its lead. It also has developed its own internal mythology--Selim wasn't Turkish enough, and his children by Nurbanu Sultan were even worse. Young Suleiman on other hand has a true Turk for a mother, thus restoring the blood of Osman to its glorious roots. Under his rule, the Empire will doubtless know the good old Turkish glory that was its by right until his grandfather Suleiman the Magnificent got seduced by that Slavic hussy of his, and started leading the Empire down the road of folly and disaster.
That they are stating all this about a young man who will go down in history as "Suleiman the Pathetic" is just part of the irony.
With their new Sultan chosen, and a reason to have chosen him, the Janissaries then start slaughtering his half-siblings--partially in a twisted following of Ottoman custom, and partially because they aren't Turkish enough--as well as quite a few of Selim's concubines, on the grounds that they might be pregnant. Left alive are Suleiman's mother, and his full brother, Mustafa, the latter because Suleiman's a very young man, and they might need a replacement if he gets ill, or ideas, which might be worse.
Selim is naturally quite shaken when he hears this horrific news, and even has a bit of a bender the night afterwards. But once he's gotten that out of his system, he gets to work. These bastards have killed his family, and tried to steal his throne. And they are going to pay for that--House of Osman style. As their Sultan sets out on the road to Constantinople, his followers remember why they backed this horse to begin with.
--Eleanor von Hapsburg arrives in Spain, which is quickly quite taken with the young princess and Queen-to-be. Soon, sonnets and poems dedicated to 'Dona Leonora' are appearing, as Eleanor makes her way to Madrid, politely thanking her hosts the entire way. Her first meeting with her husband-to-be goes less well--Eleanor stares at Philip silently, causing the nearly-forty year old king to snap 'What are you doing? Looking for grey hairs?"[33] Eleanor responds by bursting into tears, at which point Philip apologizes profusely. Rumors of the meeting soon get out, which causes the French ambassador to declare in joy that the King of Spain's new marriage is a disaster. The pair formally wed a week later, in a suitably grand ceremony in Guadelope. Most of Europe then proceeds to settle down and enjoy the figurative fireworks. (Though there are literal fireworks at the marriage celebration.)
Europe is quickly disappointed. Philip, initial testiness aside, treats his young wife with a solicitude and tenderness that surprised everyone who doesn't know the King well. Eleanor is showered with gifts and affection, with Philip's visits to her chambers to play the mandolin and enjoy her company becoming something of a court joke. "The King my husband is truly the grandest and finest man alive," she gushes in a letter to her elder sister, Anne, which goes on to state that she hopes her sister is enjoying marriage as much as she is. (The letter is famously dubbed the 'Shredded Letter' when someone compiles Anne's correspondance at a later date, as while the famously fastidious princess keeps it, she also apparently neatly, methodically slices it into several pieces, for reasons that are disputed to this day.) Philip notes to those around him that his sisters were most definitely right about this whole marriage thing, though according to Antonio Perez, he is still visiting mistresses at the moment, largely out of a fear of injuring his young niece/wife, who is 'so small and delicate, like a little bird'. But on the whole, the old Philip magic is most assuredly at work. Yes, Philip's spirits are plucking up again.
Which is good, because the news that will be coming out of Burgundy shortly would likely kill him if they weren't.
--Charles von Hapsburg sets out from Lorraine with his small division of soldiers, Captain Vargas, and the newly-married Carlo Farnese and Claude de Savoie. Arriving in Luxembourg, one of the centers of loyalist resistance to the Beggars and the rebel-backed Council of State--both of whom it must be remembered insist they are loyal to the throne and not rebelling at all--Charles meets with its stadtholder, Peter Ernst von Mansfeld-Vorderort, a relative of the late previous Protestant Archbishop of Cologne who helped kick off the Second Schmakaldic War, and, despite that, a devout Catholic[34]. Peter Ernst paints a fairly desperate picture to the young Prince--most of the Stadtholders are traitors, despite their claims to the contrary, with the few loyalists being individuals like Peter Ernst, in charge of some of the smaller, poorer provinces. Still, the Stadtholder of Luxembourg has SOME good news--there are divisions among the rebels that can be exploited, Peter Ernst believes. The Beggars in Brussels are operating completely independent of the "Council of State". The rogue Stadtholders will probably welcome the crushing of Bredrode's company of malcontents--and if it's done quickly and efficiently enough, they'll start remembering, oh, yes, Spain is a big, scary empire that can crush them like bugs if they get too uppity. Charles agrees that he'll consider that, and then continues on his way through Liege--not technically part of the Seventeen Provinces, but completely surrounded by them, and ruled by a Prince-Bishop--Gerard van Groesbeeck--who is most assuredly a Hapsburg man. (Indeed, as a Prince of the Empire, he is one of the few who has stuck by Austria through thick and thin, though his aid mostly comes in the form of moral support and the occasional loan, since he really, REALLY doesn't want either of the Schmalkaldic Leagues to invade.)
From Liege he makes his way to Mons, where he meets with his aunt Margaret, who is overjoyed to see her nephew and her eldest son, and cousin Alessandro who is likewise happy to see Charles and... well, not unhappy to see brother Carlo. As the Farnese brothers introduce their wives to each other, Margaret formally cedes power to Charles, and then warns her nephew that the Seventeen Provinces are a powderkeg, and if he isn't careful it will explode on him. Charles thanks her for her advice, then sets her up with a nice retinue to take care of her needs. The next few days are spent settling down, getting the lay of the land, and holding a few nice little feasts, where Charles continues to let a few of his Spanish soldiers dine at his table each night.
And then one night, he disappears, and it's hours before anyone realizes he's gone.
--SCENE FROM 'THE LITTLE PRINCE' (1967)--
Two men are on watch at a city gate at night. The sound of a horse approaching is heard.
MAN 1: Who goes there?
MAN 2: State your name, sir!
The horse-rider comes into view--it is Charles, dressed in fine clothing. The men stare at him in quiet amazement.
CHARLES: Charles of the House of Hapsburg, Prince of the Asturias, Girona and Viana, Duke of Montblanc and Luxembourg, Count of Cervera and Flanders, Lord of Balaguer and appointed governor of these Seventeen Provinces by order of my father, Philip the Second, King of Castile-Leon, Aragon, Sicily, and Naples, Archduke of Austria, Duke of Milan, and Grand Duke of Burgundy. (He gives a half bow from his horse.) Greetings!
The two men look at each other, their amazement only increased.
MAN 2: How... how do we know you are who you say you are?
Charles laughs and gestures to his goggle-eyed, lantern-jawed face.
CHARLES: (grinning) I ask you, sir, does this look like the face of a liar?
The second man remains perplexed--the first pats his shoulder.
MAN 1: Let him in, Michael.
MAN 2: Baldwin... what if...?
MAN 1: Would any man claim that--HERE, in Brussels, if it were not true? (He stares at Charles in wonder.) In truth, I'm almost amazed he admitted to it.
Charles chuckles and shrugs.
CHARLES: Well, it's not like I had much choice. I cut a rather distinctive figure... (smiles) Come now. I mean to see this wondrous city of yours! They tell me marvels of it! As great a city as Venice, they say!
The second man puffs up slightly.
MAN 2: Greater, sir!
CHARLES: Well then, let me see it, to judge, sir! Let me see it!
The second man turns, walking away.
MAN 2: The gate of Brussels opens for Charles, Prince of the Asturias! The gate of Brussels opens for Charles, Prince of the Asturias!
He repeats these words as he walks away, fading from view. The gates slowly creak open. Charles spurs his horse on, and enters the city.
CUT TO: A long shot of Charles entering the city. As he rides down the street, a crowd gathers, dominated by men holding rather terrifying looking cudgels. Charles continues to ride on placidly, almost as if they weren't there. Eventually, he reaches the Ducal Palace. The crowd that follows him is now exceptionally large, and looks rather sullen. COUNT BREDERODE, a youngish man--though older than Charles--approaches, his expression severe.
BREDERODE: Sir--I must ask you what the meaning of this disturbance is at this late hour...?
Charles turns to regard him. Brederode's eyes go wide as he gets his first good look at the Prince.
CHARLES: And you are, my good man?
Brederode is fidgeting slightly, as he tries to process what is going on here.
BREDERODE: The Count Brederode, Your Highness...
CHARLES: Just the man I wanted to see! This is excellent, sir, most excellent. Now... if you will allow me...
He turns to the crowd.
CHARLES: You must pardon me, my good sirs, but I must know if one of you would be so kind as to hold my horse for me?
The crowd is clearly as baffled by all this as Brederode is. Eventually, one man steps forward.
CROWD MEMBER: I would, sir.
Charles nods enthusiastically as the man steps forward.
CHARLES: Excellent, sir, excellent! I must thank you for this service, sir... what is your name?
The man grabs the horse's reigns as Charles dismounts.
CROWD MEMBER: Frans, sir.
Charles steps over to the man--who as most men do, stands a head taller than the Prince--and gives him a companionable slap on the arm.
CHARLES: I will remember that. You have my thanks, Frans, and I will make certain you will have more, if that be acceptable to you.
He turns to Count Brederode.
CHARLES: Now then, Count, you questioned me as to why I was disturbing this city at his hour. A good question--a very good question--to which I answer that the good Lord may not have given me much in the nature of abilities, but he did give me an astounding energy which I use to perform those duties He has laid upon me, and when trouble is before me, that energy will not let me rest until I have least attempted to right it.
The Count is standing there, baffled, as Charles turns to the crowd.
CHARLES: Good people--I am here as your governor, by the appointment of my royal father, your king. (emphatically slaps his chest) I ask you to please bear with me, as I explain my purpose here this night, for I am not an eloquent man, but am slow of speech and of tongue, and being so, my talk is often simple and rough. (spreads his arms wide) I know there have been disturbances and troubles that wrack these Seventeen Provinces, and God willing I shall endeavor to end them. I do this because of love for this great and noble land, the land of my forefathers, the soil from which my line did sprout. I love Burgundy, and its Seventeen Provinces, and it wounds me to see them torn by bloodshed and disorder and civil strife. (gestures to the crowd.) You are my people--you are dear to me--and to see the love we should share turn to rancor due to the acts of wicked and bad men troubles my heart. Believe me, my people, when I say your sorrows are my sorrows, your travails my travails, and sharing in these hardships with you, I mean to see them ended, for it is not right that you, my loyal subjects of Burgundy, should plagued by oppression and bad rule, by rebellion and bloodshed. These disorders are grave, and I will use my powers as governor to end them, I swear by God! It is my hope to bring to you justice, and peace! Good people, is that not what you want--what we all want? Justice and peace?
The crowd is murmuring, quietly impressed. One woman raises a hand to her mouth.
WOMAN: God bless you sir!
Charles waves a dismissive hand.
CHARLES: I would rather He bless these Burgundian lands, lady, then this poor, unworthy man who stands before you. It is for them--for you, people, for YOU--that I will labor, with all the energy the Almighty has placed in this little body of mine. Now then--people--would you kindly give a hearty hurrah for the lands of Burgundy?
The crowd responds, increasingly energetic.
CROWD: Hurrah for Burgundy!
Charles nods.
CHARLES: Very good. Very GOOD! And now---now would you kindly give me a hurrah--for justice!
CROWD: Hurrah for justice!
CHARLES: And now another hurrah for peace!
CROWD: Hurrah for peace!
Charles nods once again, satisfied. As the silence starts, the crowd begins to mull about uncomfortably. Suddenly, one man raises his hand.
CROWD MEMBER: Hurrah for the Prince!
CROWD: Hurrah for the Prince!
The crowd begins to repeat this a few times. Charles, after a moment, raises his hands, and bids them to stop.
CHARLES: People--people--good people--do not be so hasty to praise me. Grant me cheers when I have brought to you these things--justice and peace!
The crowds cheers again. Charles smiles, and turns to Brederode, who is standing there in dull shock.
CHARLES: My good Count, we have many things to discuss, you and I.
He grabs Brederode by the shoulders, and pulls the much taller man in for a hug.
CHARLES: (loudly) Still, let me state the honor I feel to be near such a loyal and dedicated subject, who stands so vigilant against corruption in this state.
Brederode nods.
BREDERODE: I... thank you sir...
Charles moves towards the Ducal Palace, pulling Brederode after him.
CHARLES: Come now, sir, come. We have much work to do.
He turns once again to the crowd.
CHARLES: I've heard it said you call yourselves the Beggars. Well, rest assured, I am the soul of charity for those who require it! Let it never be said that Charles of Spain let a beggar leave his presence hungry!
The crowd begins to cheer again. Charles smiles to himself as he leads Brederode away. Brederode turns to the prince, clearly baffled.
BREDERODE: (quietly) What just happened?
CHARLES: Everything, my dear count, everything.
--Austria celebrates the good news--year-long truces with both Schmalkaldic Leagues. Ideally, this will give the Hapsburgs a peace treaty with at least one of them, followed by ending the war--at the very least it should give them time to build up their strength. While Ferdinand is cautiously optimistic, he acknowledges the real problems. Both Leagues are already asking for major concessions, both in territory and in political and religious matters, with the Heidelberg Compact's generally being the more extreme. However, despite the Leipzig Bond being generally the more acceptable of the two Protestant Leagues, even they have prices Ferdinand wants to avoid paying right now--namely the Zapolyas' gains in Bohemia and Hungary recognized. While Ferdinand is prepared to ultimately recognize Janos II as the King of Hungary--he knows a lost cause when he sees it--for now he stalls, hoping he can get Bohemia back, or at least Croatia and some of the more loyal sections of Royal Hungary annexed to Austria. After all, Janos Sigismund is religiously an odd man out, something that may ultimately cause the Bond to rethink their support for him in the future. This is one reason why despite having two truces in one war, Austria continues to fight in the Second War of the Hungarian Succession, against a man covered by one of those truces, under a different title.
Needless to say, these sort of shenanigans increase tension in the discussions that would move this truce into a treaty, but Ferdinand thinks that's the price of doing business at the moment. His hand is fatally weak--but if he stalls and plays for time, his situation might improve. Especially if he tries to improve it. And so, he attempts to keep them calm with gestures like releasing the Elector of Brandenburg. Ferdinand isn't sure how much he can save his family's fortunes--but he is certain he can keep them from losing everything. In the meantime, he works to get the deeply-troubled Archduchy functioning again--a difficult task for a principality that has been ravaged by war, religious strife, harsh winters, and simple mismanagement. Among the various things Ferdinand is looking into is a change of capitals--Vienna is simply too volatile and Protestant to serve as the Hapsburg seat of government in the future. But that is something that can be completed at a later date. Indeed for now, Ferdinand works to restore the capital into some semblance of its former glory.
As Vienna works to get itself into order, a series of quiet incidents occur that people will regret not noticing later. The Imperial residence finds itself regularly visited by a taciturn young man who keeps to himself while going about his own quiet tasks. It is a sign of how badly things have slipped that despite the fact that nobody recognizes the man--or an older companion who sometimes accompanies him--it never occurs to anyone to ask what he's doing here.
When the whole affair is done, people will debate whether this was incompetence, corruption or conspiracy for centuries into the future.
But that is all to come. For now, Austria, Saxony, Hungary, and the Electoral-Palatinate all begin to hope that this war will be over in a year or two, while dealing with the hordes of other diplomatic issues and conflicts they've found themselves entangled in. Most are certain that the war will end soon, for the simple reason that they're amazed it's lasted as long as it has. It's got to be coming to a close.
Doesn't it?
-------------------
[1] This is, save for one word, a straight quotation from OTL Marlowe's Tamburlaine. That one altered word should alert you to who Simon Marlow is REALLY talking about when he says "Tamburlaine".
[2] Vargas served as Alba's second-in-command during his governorship of the Netherlands. He really was as... charming as I've made him sound.
[3] Philip used to let his OTL daughters do this. He could be a fairly decent dad, if he didn't expect much from you. Which is probably why he was devoted to his daughters and a tyrant to his sons.
[4] Historically, Eric survived a battle by doing just this once.
[5] They perished in 1600, 1603, and 1573 respectively IOTL--all without issue, so this isn't quite as major a change as one might think.
[6] Despite later traditions that have Roxelana scheming to gain the throne for Selim's sake, contemporary records makes it clear that Bayezid was her favorite. Amazingly, despite the fact that most of the upper ranks of the Ottoman military establishment backed Selim in the brothers' struggles, there's a popular depiction of Bayezid as a stronger, more militarily-able heir who doubtless could have kept the Ottomans away from the disasters and dissolution they later faced. If you will allow me to finish my rant--there is nothing in the man's actual career to suggest that, and quite a lot to suggest the opposite.
[7] Murad, like his father and grandfather before him, had a favorite to whom he was more or less 'married'--a radical change in the lives of the Ottomans that would have a significant effect on the government of the Sultanate. Incidentally, Murad's mother and elder sister--allegedly because they were worried about the succession, but more probably to try and curb the wife's influence--insisted that he enjoy as many concubines as possible after becoming sultan, something Murad proceeded to do with gusto. He left twenty sons behind him, nineteen of whom the eldest had strangled upon his assumption of the throne as according to Ottoman custom, which the Turks found so grotesque that the custom was at last changed.
[8] There was apparently a fifth son born during Bayezid's stay in Persia IOTL, though records are sketchy.
[9] Sinan did similar actions regarding Yemen IOTL. He was a remarkably scummy politician, even by Ottoman standards.
[10] They lasted much longer IOTL, but ultimately surrendered there too.
[11] He reacted about the same IOTL, but as there was no one there to bribe him into sparing their lives, Lala Mustafa had the garrison hideously executed. Fun guy.
[12] He actually named a daughter this IOTL. She was named for her godfathers--Emperor Maximilian and the Pope--but I simply could not let a name this good go to waste.
[13] Reportedly, this is how they found Erik after one of his breakdowns IOTL. It's hard not to see a great desire to NOT be King of Sweden in many of Erik's actions during one of his fits.
[14] Once again, Erik claimed this IOTL as well.
[15] Similar troubles are what lead to the Dukes of Holstein-Gottorp into Swedish allies, and perennial nemeses of the Danish throne.
[16] The most famous IOTL would be Charlotte de Bourbon, the Abbess of Jouarre who went on to marry William of Orange.
[17] IOTL, he was likewise making a clear bid to seize control of Geneva around that time. This was something of an obsession of the Savoys for years, and frankly it didn't go well for them, or Geneva.
[18] This is a bit later than the couple's OTL equivalents, but remember, this Claude is younger.
[19] IOTL, at this point in time, the young--he's fourteen--Henri de Guise was fighting the Turk in Hungary. Yes, really.
[20] The role of Palatine was traditionally the second man in the Hungarian kingdom--the Hapsburgs did all they could to abolish it, and eventually succeeded. IOTL, Mihály Mérey served in the role of Palatinal Governor around this time, a weaker variation of the title the Hapsburgs cooked up as part of those efforts to abolish it.
[21] Mérey died in 1572 IOTL, so we can safely say that this war hasn't been kind to him.
[22] Gyorgy was of course all these things IOTL as well, though history has made him most famous for the actions of... a certain child of his. And yes, the Bathorys in the Protestant section of Hungary stayed Catholics, while the Bathorys in the Catholic section became Protestants.
[23] Bekes was Janos Sigismund's Treasurer IOTL, and one of his most trusted and loyal supporters.
[24] John Bradford was a widely admired priest, speaker and Marian Martyr IOTL. Many of his OTL students would go on to significant roles in the Anglican Church in later years.
[25] IOTL, one of Lavina's nieces, Catherine Strada was long-time mistress to HRE Rudolf II, giving him six children. (Though some accounts suggest that Rudolf had TWO mistresses from the Strada family, with the six children split up among them. Personally, I chalk that up to confusion and rumor.)
[26] Duarte and his brother inherited their position from their father--Duarte Coelho Pereira--though after his death, their mother was the de facto Captain-General.
[27] IOTL Ivan's eldest surviving son's first wife bore this name--this woman may (or may not) be her ITTL sibling.
[28] I suspect most of you recognize portions of this verse. Allow me to state this is an utterly correct quotation.
[29] While Francois the Younger survived his father longer IOTL, that was largely because his father died earlier. He was succeeded by his brother Jacques, who likewise managed to die shortly thereafter.
[30] The pair pulled off a similar coup IOTL, winding up Duke and Duchess of Nevers to the disgust of much of the court.
[31] Catherine likewise got this inheritance IOTL. It passed in time to her second husband--Henri de Guise--and their children.
[32] Prince Abdullah died in 1568 IOTL, in somewhat mysterious circumstances.
[33] Philip is reported to have said something like this to Elizabeth Valois on their first meeting, though it might just be a disparaging story.
[34] Peter Ernst was a devoted Spanish loyalist who even wound up as a governor of the Spanish Netherlands IOTL for a couple years. Sort of the anti-William the Silent, if you will.
