"...(T)he Second Schmalkaldic War marked a change in German mercenaries, a transition from the Landsknecht to the so-called Snaphance, widely viewed as a more dangerous and unreliable character. While the Landsknecht was the poor man's Reisläufer, generally seen as less disciplined and less skilled than his Swiss counterparts, still he was usually potrayed as essentially an honorable and spirited soldier, often with more courage than sense. The Snaphance in contrast was seen as a con-man and thief, a man who'd commit robberies in an area and then sell his services as protection against the bandits who'd recently been inflicting villainies there, or desert, pockets bulging with coin, on the eve of battle. The snaphance got his name from what was seen as his trademark weapon, the snap-lock pistol[1], a firearm that neatly encapsulated its owner in the popular imagination--distressingly modern, prone to mishaps, and generally more useful for crimes than on the battlefield...
"The truth of this portrait is highly questionable--Ercole d'Este in several of his calls for mecenaries specifically asks that "men who carry their own pistol" be favored, which is hardly a sign of distrust. Indeed, some of the most famous 'snaphances', such as the notorious Brandrok, likely never knew the term, and instead had it applied to them posthumously because they were seen as exemplars of the snaphance's inherrant amorality... ...(I)n many ways the problem was simply the realization of the increasingly professional nature of war, something which the glorious amateurs directing the wars couldn't help but fear..."
--Michael Grier, The Art of War in the Late Renaissance (1977).
1566
--The arrival of Charles von Hapsburg, Prince of the Asturias, in Burgundy has gathered the attention of the combatants in the Second Schmalkaldic War, and needless to say Protestants are quite alarmed. Even as Vienna despairs of the Prince's naked rejection of their pleas, many Lutherans are convinced Charles is here to launch an attack on the Rhine--others are merely concerned he might do so, either on the secret orders of his father's or at his own discretion. Those who know the Prince well note his devout Catholic faith and daredevil spirit--those that do not merely note he is a Spaniard, and therefore, a fanatical, tyrannical Papist by right of birth. The Strausbourg Chronicle writes of 'this twisted and deformed scion of a hellish line' who it prophesizes will crush the True Faith in the Netherlands, then move onto Germany, and likely France, if he is allowed to.
To call this all extremely ironic in hindsight is in fact an understatement.
The Burgundians are equally in a panic about Charles, but theirs is based on actually having an idea about what's going on. News quickly leaks out that the Prince is in Brussels, the power center of Brederode and the Beggars, the single most unpredictable faction in this struggle. Exactly what he's doing there is a mystery to everyone, save the people actually in Brussels. Many--including his aunt Margaret, and his cousins Carlo and Alessandro Farnese--fear that he has idealistically attempted to bring peace to the region and found himself the clutches of the radicals, a pawn to their ambitions. The Council of State is concerned both of this, and that Charles may have been unknowingly been recruited by his father in some scheme to discredit the uprising (remember, they are NOT a rebellion being loyal subjects of the Crown who are simply trying to do their duty) by having the Prince of the Asturias suffer death, or less drastically some indignity at the Beggars' hands. William of Orange, a more cynical man than most, even wonders if this isn't some odd scheme to recruit the Beggars as a weapon against the Council, then dispose of them afterwards. What is all but universal among the factions is the certain belief that Charles is at best a hot-headed young man who has blundered into danger, at worst, a fool and dupe who is being played with by more dangerous folk.
Still, whatever the circumstances are, all respond to a letter from the Prince, bidding the Council of the State in Antwerp and the loyalists at Mons to meet in Brussels under the auspices of "Charles, Duke of Luxembourg, Count of Flanders, and Governor of the Duchy of Burgundy" to "bring peace and harmony to these troubled realms". Hostage or stooge, Charles is still a royal prince in the hands of some very dangerous people, and handling this wrong could get him killed. Which is why Captain Vargas has refrained from yanking out the secret order from Philip giving him command in case Charles is 'incapable'. While Vargas knows that Philip has issues with the Prince he rather doubts the King of Spain wants his son dead. William of Orange meanwhile finds himself puzzling over a communication his brother Louis has from Count Brederode, wherein the radical assures his associate that the Prince of the Asturias can absolutely and assuredly be trusted in this matter. "I am convinced that in every way that matters he is at heart one of our party," writes Brederode, in a fine demonstration of Charles' knack for presenting himself as all things to all men. William in particular is left wondering just who is using who in all this. In the meantime, he sends his brother Louis to meet with his associates in Brussels.
Years later, Carlo of Parma will write that his cousin was fond of noting that sometimes in chess, when one finds oneself with few free pieces, it becomes necessary to use the king to get mate.
--On the other side of the world from Europe and its Second Schmalkaldic War, as the year begins, the greatest empire presently existing in the world sees a significant death that is in fact even more significant than people realize. In the Chinese Imperial capital of Beijing, Zhu Houcong, the Jiajing Emperor, caps off his lengthy, bizarre, and frankly perverse reign as it stands on the verge of its 45th year by deciding, on the advice of his trusted Daoist Priests, to treat his present illness by devouring a large mass of cinnabar. The Jiajing Emperor declares brightly that he can feel himself becoming immortal, then has a seizure, lapses into a coma, and shortly thereafter dies.[2] It is a death quite worthy of the man, though not quite as striking as the one that NEARLY happened to him twenty-two years ago, when a conspiracy of his concubines formed to kill him, tired of his exceedingly grotesque sexual tastes, and his--well, there's no way to put this politely, so I'm just going to be blunt--harvesting of their menstrual blood for use in Daoist potions. (Yeah. I know. Look, it's not like this sort of crazy is unique to China. Move along, people.) Said conspiracy attempted to strangle him to death with ribbons while he slept, and might have succeeded, if the poor girls had known how to tie a knot that could tighten. But they did not, so they did not, and thus China got to... enjoy twenty-two more years of the Jiajing Emperor.[3] However, that is all in the past. Now, he's finally dead, and the Empire can put all the vicious crazy behind them, assuming Zhu Houcong hasn't decided to exit the Imperial Seat the same way he entered it, by creating a huge, precedent-defying controversy that threatens to split the Imperial bureaucracy in twain and begin a horrific struggle[4].
But of course, it's Zhu Houcong, and he has. The late Emperor's eldest surviving son is Zhu Zaihou, the Prince of Yu, and by Ming tradition, the legal heir--however, the late Emperor hated him, and refused to name him Crown Prince for his entire life, as well as neglecting his education, isolating him from court, avoiding his presence when possible--the list goes on. Again, it's Zhu Houcong.[5] The Jiajing Emperor hinted for years that it was such a shame that his (very slightly) younger son Zhu Zaixun, Prince Gong of Jin, couldn't be heir. And now, in his posthumous edict, the Emperor has expanded on this. The rule of the Empire is a weighty affair that requires much thought and care, says the man who never cared about it, and avoided thinking on it when possible. In making sure that it goes to the proper heir, an Emperor must be scrupulous--a difficult feat for Zhu Houcong, who didn't have any scruples that people could see, but HEY, there you go. The Jiajing Emperor has carefully reviewed things, and is now certain that his supposed eldest son the Prince of Yu was in fact concieved AFTER Prince Gong of Jing, but being the wretch that he is, conspired to get himself born over a month earlier. Such massive disrespect for filial bonds--one so thorough that it began before birth--cannot be rewarded if Heaven is to maintain its favor. With this in mind, the Emperor has chosen to give the throne his REAL eldest son, the Prince of Jin.[6]
Having read all this, the Imperial bureaucrats share a collective wince--partially because they are a fairly conservative bunch, and this goes against tradition, and partially because there is only so much crazy on a page the average person can stand. As the ministers quietly debate among themselves whether this is the result of a deep-rooted delusion, a perverse desire to spread chaos, or some combination of the two--a study of the Jiajing Emperor's career can give support to all three interpretations--they immediately get to work considering how they can sidestep this edict. The general consensus is that this is such a deviation from Ming tradition--and an absolutely crazy one to boot--that it can be overturned with impunity, Emperor's will or not, when they prepare the... offical final edict of the Emperor[7]. And people begin to think that maybe--just maybe, they'll get through this all right. And then of course, someone ruins it all by doing something.
Zhu Zaixun was, as previously mentioned, his father's favorite son. Part of this was because he was far cleverer than his slightly elder brother, and part of it was because his old man saw a something of himself in Prince Gong. One might think that the Jiajing Emperor considering you a chip off the old block might be a bad thing and one would be right--Zaixun shares his father's love of getting his own way by whatever means possible. And so, as the bureaucrats debate, Zhu Zaixun simply enters Beijing with his flunkies, has himself enthroned and starts issuing edicts. One of these is an order for his "younger" brother, the Prince of Yu, to retire to his estate, and begin his peaceful existence as a pensioner of the Ming throne. Or else.
It's a sign of how well the Prince of Jing knows his half-brother that it almost works--Zhu Zaihou is a hestiant man with very little confidence, the result of his upbringing and a horrific stammer he's afflicted with[8]. Faced with his brother's demands, he almost caves. However, Zaihou has a friend--his former tutor, the Chinese statesman Zhang Juzheng. Juzheng, like most Chinese officials, hates Zhu Zaixun--further he has great affection for the Prince of Yu, seeing him as a truly worthy (or at least pliable) choice for Emperor. And so he speaks to his former pupil, bidding him to be strong--be firm--to trust in the justice of Heaven. And so, after sending his brother a noncomittal reply, Zhu Zaihou, his family, and a loyal core of high-ranking civil servants that are just sick of the crazy rush to Nanjing where the Prince of Yu is swiftly enthroned himself. And so, for the first time since 1519, we have two men of the Ming dynasty claiming to be Emperor.
Things start with a strange gentility that is almost comical--having both crowned themselves Emperor, the two brothers both appear to simply ignore each other at first, each announcing the new era name--Zhu Zaixun declaring this to be the Longqing era, Zhu Zaihou the Chongzhen[9]--and announcing all the wonderful reforms they're going to perform. But this is deceptive. Each court is carefully feeling around for support, looking to make sure that the generals and more importantly the civil servants--China's beaten Europe to the realization that civilian control of the military is a good idea by a handy margin--know who the REAL Emperor is, or at least who the right guy to not mess with is. And both are getting as noncomital responses as possible, because as opposed to most previous civil wars, most people are finding it hard to choose the winner at the moment--Zaixun has more of the trappings of legitimacy, but is still such an untraditional choice, and such a known retrobate, even by his family's epic standards, that most people are hesitant about supporting him--Zaihou might have the better claim over all, but the fact remains his actions are close enough to an effort at usurpation to make people nervous, and while he has better people around him, for the most part, few consider him an extraordinarily better man than his brother; just something of an improvement. The result is a lot of frum-fruming and avoiding definite commitments that means the two claimants are at the moment each starting a civil war with no actual army.
China does not need this right now. They've got Japanese pirates causing trouble--they've got the freaking Mongols raiding the north again, under the dedicated leadership of Altan Khan--they've got famine--they've got massive poverty problems, including eunuch gangs roving Beijing[10]--simply put it's a mess, in a large part thanks to the Jiajing Emperor. The thought that he's topped it all by setting the stage for an internal war is much too painful for the average bureaucrat to bear. And those bureaucrats have other matters on their mind, that have nothing to do with their late Emperor--though admittedly he may have made them worse. Confucianism is going through one of its semiregular ideaological upheavals due to the revolutionary teachings of Wang Yangming, whose radical reinterpertation of the philosophy/religion has been compared to Zen Buddhism. His most radical disciple is Li Zhi, who couples his master's belief in internal goodness with a belief in the worthiness of the common man. In an age and a place where those common men are enjoying higher literacy, a better standard of living, and more social mobility--indeed, more mobility, period--these sort of teachings have an undeniable appeal. For the philisophically-obsessed Chinese bureaucracy, who worry about the proper interpretation of Confucianism the way Christian theologians worry about the nature of the Trinity, this is creating a quiet war of ideas between hardcore traditionalists and those who embrace the new ideology--a sort of Chinese Reformation, if you will.[11]
Obviously, the immediate effect that this will have on Europe is miniscule--indeed, aside from a few Portuguese priests on the fringes of the Imperial Court, no Europeans even know all this has happened, with the news only reaching the Portuguese trading settlement in Macau at the end of the year. By the time most of Europe finally learns of the situation, it will have progressed... rather severely. And yet ultimately this event will affect MANY things in Europe--just as the present European wars will affect China. People are connected in ways they tend not to imagine.
--Returning to Germany--Austria's truces with both Schmalkaldic Leagues see the fighting in the Second Schmalkaldic War dwindle, but not stop, leading to 1566's popular nickname in the historial record, 'the Year of the False Peace'. Most of the fighting will be between the Leipzig Bond and Heidelberg Compact--especially the Hessians, with the ambitious Ludwig of Hesse-Marburg spending much of the year launching raids on Saxon territory. But some will be acts taken against bandits, minor nobles, and oddball rebels that are springing up--and let's just say that the overlap between those three groups is considerable. Indeed, a rather famous is going to crop up later in the year, though at the moment, he's more or less faithfully working for his employers.
In Vienna, Ferdinand II continues to work his administrative magic, smoothing things over, and essentially working to reshape the Empire so it will work when Austria finally officially loses this war. Maria of Spain is quietly ordered into retirement, and begins preparations to move out of Vienna, where she is hated even by the city's increasingly radical standards. (The stubborn Queen only agrees to this if she is accompanied by her children. Ferdinand allows this, save for his eldest son and heir, Albert, who he's rather concerned about Maria's influence over.) Ferdinand does what he can to comfort Austria's motley collection of Imperial allies, which also leads to a significant bit of diocesan reshuffling. As the exceedingly influential Archbishop of Mainz is almost certainly going to be staying in enemy hands, a new Archbishopric is needed in the Empire, and Ferdinand thinks he knows just the man--Bishop Wolfgang of Wurzburg. Pius and the Council of Mantua agree with relative swiftness, and carve out the new Archbishopric of Wurzburg from a large portion of Mainz's old diocesan territory, with the formally independent Bishopric of Bamberg tacked on. This last bit is resented by the Catholic portions of the Bamberg church council but as a) there isn't a Prince-Bishop at the moment, b) the last Bishop's great accomplishment was being chased of Bamberg by a bunch of Franconian Knights during the opening stages of the war, and c) the council has gone on to lose its last holdings in the Bishopric to the young Margrave George Diomedes, who's had his own loyalists "elect" him to the Prince-Bishopric--well, their complaints don't hold a lot of weight in Mantua. Wolfgang Schutzbar gennant Milching will recieve an Archbishopric, and a Cardinal's cap by the end of the year. And then come down with a case of pneumonia that will carry him away shortly thereafter. Remember, he's exceedingly old.[12] But hey, at least he's going out happy.
Turning to the peace negotiations, Ferdinand continues to find himself smashing against two solid brick walls of unpleasantness. The Leipzig Bond wants a lot of concessions, from the recognition of various land annexations, such as George Diomedes' grabbing of the Bamberg Prince-Bishopric, to changes to the Imperial constitution that would essentially render the Emperor a figurehead, and place most of the real power in the Reichstag in general, and the College of Electors specifically. The Heidelberg Compact wants their own bunch of annexations recognized, and have their own constitutional reforms, many of which would ultimately entail more radical changes to the Empire than what the Bond wants. And both of them have taken to making quiet threats--the Bond increasingly implying that if Ferdinand drags his feet, it will crown its own Emperor, the Compact making the occasional gesture France-ways.
So, yes, fun times for the "King" of Croatia and "Romans by Necessity". But hey, at least he and Lavina Strada are enjoying each other's company. And little Ferdinand of Austria is impressing the tutors the elder Ferdinand hired for his bastard son. Far more than prospective heir to the throne Albert is impressing the Theatines Maria brought in to teach him, whose reports tend to be rather overflowing with praise for the young Austrian prince's "enthusiasm" and "piety" to get around the fact that the boy can barely do his sums. Of course, plenty of Hapsburgs--hell, plenty of people--have moved on from unpromising beginnings to become talented, brilliant individuals--Ferdinand need only to consider his cousin and nephew, Charles of the Asturias for an example, and indeed, while people will accuse Albert of many things in his later life, few would throw "being an imbecile" on the pile. But it's subtler things that worry his father--Albert isn't just backwards on subjects--as Ferdinand quickly finds, he reacts to things he doesn't enjoy with a bitter hostility, a worrying trait for a monarch. Especially a monarch who will likely find himself regularly accepting the demands of Protestant heretics if he doesn't want to face a major rebellion that will topple him from the throne.
Finally, a significant player in the war departs. Ercole d'Este, Duke of Ferrara and Modena, strikes his banners and heads to Rome as soon as the truce begins. The Duke feels he's fought enough, and his uncle the Pope wants him in Rome to formally invest him as Gonfalonier of the Church, a position formerly filled by his late brother Alfonso. Quite a few of his troops leave with him, weakening the Hapsburg position in Swabia for the moment--though as they're in a truce, that's not as big a deal as it might be. Ercole has had quite enough of the Hapsburgs and pointless wars against German princes, though not necessarily about war in general. A popular rumor circulates that Pius is planning an action against the Turk while they're weak and distracted, which his nephew will lead. As far as most mercenaries are concerned, it may be true, it may not be, but if his Holiness has demonstrated one thing it's that he's know how to pick his battles. That's a man you want to be working for--and if you throw a commander like Ercole into the mix, well, it starts looking very good.
--As the Second Schmakaldic War sees people starving and suffering, the leadership of the Leipzig Bond reacts by gathering in Prague to celebrate Janos Sigismund's gaining the Crown of Wenseclaus with feasts, jousts, and ceremonies. They're Renaissance era nobles, folks--it's how they roll. English nobles and bosum chums Thomas Howard, Earl of Surrey, Walter Devreaux, Viscount Hereford, and young Christopher Hatton (a favorite of Henry IX who first came to the King's attention by dancing well[13]) all enjoy the festivities, doing quite well for themselves in the various jousts and displays of manliness. It's all very grand from where they stand--Surrey will come out of it all with a lifelong mancrush on Janos II of Hungary and spend much of his life depicting Zapolya and his wife (who Surrey also seems to acquire something of a crush on) as the Christian exemplars of pious and just rule. He also discovers about the death of his wife, and writes back to his father, essentially asking Norfolk to start scouting around for available English and Scottish heiresses[14]. Surrey's romantic nature does not quite encompass what would we consider actual romance. At least not in the marriage market.
Surrey isn't the only man acquiring a newfound fondness for Janos Sigismund, King of Hungary and Bohemia--Zapolya's brother-in-law, John Frederick of Saxony has also become inordinately fond of the Transylvanian monarch, despite the pair's theological differences. Indeed, almost because of them--John Frederick loves himself a good theological debate, and so does Janos Sigismund. Truth be told, the Elector of Saxony has long made himself something of nuisance in the University of Wittenberg by popping into classes and having impromptu arguments with the professors, something he's missed since all this Second Schmalkaldic War stuff started. Having a rousing discussion on the existence or nonexistence of the Trinity with the King is like that--only BETTER.
The two Protestant monarchs use all the ceremony to cement this complicated little alliance--Janos Sigismund is among the many admitted into the Order of the Rose and Cross, while the King of Bohemia will formally invest the Elector of Saxony with the Margravate of Lusatia and the title "Friend and Protector of the Rights and Liberties of the Bohemian Peoples". Which makes John Frederick his brother-in-law's vassal in some matters, even as Janos is his subordinate in the Rosicrucians and the Leipzig Bond. (And let's not even think about how complicated things will get if John Frederick DOES wind up Emperor, shall we?) The pair follow it up with vows of eternal friendship, mutual support, and a secret promise from John Frederick to support Janos Sigismund against the Turks in the future, should it prove necessary. Both look on such a future conflict as the natural consequence of their alliance--having defeated the internal Christian threat of Imperial Papocracy, they may turn to the external heathen threat of Ottoman rule[15]. It's nice to have a plan for the future.
Of course, before they can get started on the NEXT war, they'll need to settle this one, and that's proving a complicated thing. As Duke Augustus of Saxe-Weissenfels notes, the great problem is maintaining the right balance with Austria. The Hapsburgs must be made to understand that the Bond is perfectly willing to elect an Emperor and place them under an Imperial ban for their 'troublemaking' if they are too intransient--but Saxony cannot become TOO inflexible in its demands, and make that option inevitable, or the war will, from a Hapsburg perspective, turn into a bloody existential slog. Wars of that nature can drag on for years in the Empire, especially when the target has powerful external allies with a dynastic reason to keep up the struggle[16]. Like, say, a related line that holds Spain and the Burgundian Netherlands.
And the Heidelberg Compact complicates things--ready allies for the Hapsburgs in such a struggle. The obvious thing to do is cut a deal with them--and yet many in the Bond dislike the "Calvinist traitors" even more than they do the Hapsburgs, a dislike that the years of fighting has festered. Augustus himself is no stranger to these feelings, even though he knows he should set them aside for the good of the True Faith[17]. But the fact remains that they complicate things.
There is another reason to avoid the Imperial option if they can help it--the only man they have who could actually fill the seat doesn't particularly want it. Yes, despite years of his wife's subtle prodding, John Frederick II would rather NOT be Holy Roman Emperor of the Germans. Part of this is the man's grand, romantic image of himself as the great defender of Protestant Germanic Liberty(tm) -but some of it is likely the realization that being Emperor when all this is over is not going to be fun. John Frederick is fighting this war to ensure that the privileges of the Imperial Princes are preserved and even furthered where possible--and that means that the next Holy Roman Emperor is going to be ruling with a great many checks on his authority. John Frederick senses, based on his experiences as commander of the Leipzig Bond, that he'd rather be the man putting the checks in place then the man operating under them. Which proves he's not just the romantic, impulsive man that popular history likes to present him as.
Though plenty romantic and impulsive, mind you.
--State affairs in France suddenly shriek to a halt early in the year when Henri II learns that former royal mistress Diane de Poitiers is sick and believed dying[18]. Even though the pair's relationship is essentially over, the attachment hasn't all vanished--the King of France rushes to Diane's estate. With his present mistress, Francoise de Enghien, at his side, because even when he's being all romantic, Henri Valois has a hard time not being a prat. There, Henri swiftly becomes a weepy, overwrought mess--indeed, everyone winds up noting that the dying Diane and young Francoise are both dealing with entire situation, with all its horror, sorrow, and awkwardness, better than the king.
Which, really shouldn't be a surprise, but Henri II Valois looks so good that people keep hoping he'll live up to the initial impression he gives them. Even when they should have learnt better.
Diane's passing is a massive tearful event, and sees Henri bemoaning his loss and promising to build his former mistress a lavish tomb. It is one of the rare promises the King will keep, though he will mostly be using Diane's own wealth to do it. Again--Henri II Valois.
Catherine de Medici is not anywhere near Diane's deathbed, and she is rather glad that that's the case. Indeed, the Queen of France makes something of a show of not giving a damn--she always rather disliked Diane and really isn't unhappy to see her die. Instead, Catherine spends her time with her various favorites, a collection of Italians, women, and ultraCatholics, including the man who her husband recently more or less discarded, Cardinal Charles de Bourbon. Cardinal de Bourbon, whatever his flaws as a politician, is exceedingly persistant--if one path to power has closed to him at the moment, then he will simply take another. After all, if Henri heads out war, he'll need to leave someone as Regent, and his wife is the most likely candidate. Catherine, while never totally without influence, has never had a surfeit of native French political allies--if she finds herself forced to run the French government, a powerful, high-ranking churchman who's also a Prince of the Blood could prove most handy.
Of course, the rumour-mongers, gossips and cheap pampleteers who'd previously linked Catherine and Cardinal de Lorraine now have her hooking up with Cardinal de Bourbon. Naturally, the known rivalry between Cardinal Rouge and Cardinal Noir helps make the rumors even MORE popular--and more colorful. One popular ditty has the Cardinal Lorraine tearfully beseaching his lady why she has deserted him, only for the Queen to reply that she much preferred him in 'gay red' to 'dour black', and hence has moved on to Bourbon. As opposed to his cousin, Cardinal de Bourbon takes these rumors in his stride--in addition to persistance, he has a certain flexibility Cardinal de Lorraine lacks. If Charles de Bourbon started losing his temper about people holding him in low regard, he'd have very little time to accomplish things.
As for the general France political scene... it remains quite tense. Hard-core Catholics and Huguenots each meet in their own secret meetings, make secret pledges, and occasionally publically assault each other, and each other's places of worship. But a new wrinkle's been added. When Cardinal Charles de Lorraine first declared his great Gallican compromise at the Estates-General he was... well, pretty much a party of one. But now, three years later, he stands at the head of a movement. The Gallicanists are a varied bunch--some are moderate former Huguenots, either seeking a way to rejoin the Church for protection without utterly compromising their beliefs, or turning away from the increasing radicalism of the movement, others are Catholics who have long sought reform but find the extreme stance of Calvinism discomfiting. But they are uniting, piece by piece, and in so doing complicating the French political and religious landscape. And complicated is the word to use--for example, while the Gallicans are generally friendlier to the Huguenots than most conservative Catholics, they are quite fervant about having them rejoin the Mother Church, and aren't above harassing Huguenot parishes to get them to see the light. However, they also occasionally join forces with Huguenots to protect their churches from the local Society for Purity and Correctness in Doctrine. Overall, the quiet struggle for the faith of France has become a dizzying three-way fight that somewhat mirrors what's going on in the Germanies. Only on a much smaller, calmer scale.
For now.
--In the Ottoman Empire, Selim II's forces continue to trudge through Anatolia, making their way to Constantinople, and crushing rebellions as they do so. He's aided fact that many of these rebels are fairly independent--an assortment of religious dissidents and regional uprisings based on nothing more than impression of weakness--an impression Selim is doing his best to end. Swiftly and violently. Still, his army is tired, and making slower progress returning to the capital than they made going to it. It's harder to march through hostile, resisting territory than nominally friendly territory, after all.
In Cyprus, Joseph Nasi officially starts setting up shop as the island's tributary King, while Lala Mustafa heads out to help the Sultan... by stopping in the Aegean islands to... check on things, while stashing away the rather sizable stash of loot he acquired on Cyprus. Look, Lala Mustafa didn't reach the heights of power in the Ottoman Empire by a sentimental man. He's basically in 'see how this turns out' mode right now, a trait shared by many others, most notably Egyptian governor Sinan Pasha. You can't expect survivors not to focus on surviving in this sort of crisis.
But this represents another nuisance for Selim--the fact that many of his supposed supporters are in fact sitting back and doing nothing, or close to it. Of course, they all have their excuses--and their power bases that will make getting back at them for this difficult. But then... Selim is a patient man, and his rivals are facing similar problems. And if Selim can't always count on the loyalty of his subordinates--well, Suleyman the Pathetic can't even count on their considering themselves... subordinates. The clique that surrounds the young man has quickly fallen to intriguing and scheming against itself, while also trying to get the various other rebels to sign up. This is not going as well as one might think--while holding Constantinople is a handy symbol of power, many of the other rebels are no more going to bow to Selim the Sot's son than they are going to bow to the lad's hated father. For them, this is about putting the TRUE Sultan on the throne--Suleyman's uncle, Mustafa. Who, once again, is very, very dead, though this seems to be putting no crimp whatsoever on his political career.
And so, things stand for the Sultan of the Turks--he faces troubles, but they are hardly insurmountable. And hey, if he needs to cheer himself up, he can always be glad he's not Shah Tahmasp.
--Shah Tahmasp, second Safavid Emperor of Persia, is not having a fun time. The forces of Islam Shah Suri are pouring in from the east, and if their advance hasn't been as fast as it could have been, it's due more to logistical difficulties than Persian resistance. The Suris are not doing this by themselves--supporting their invasion are the Safavids' old rivals the Uzbeks, under the leadership of Iskander Khan Beg, who Islam Shah has won over by promising a share of the lands. In addition of course to the chance for revenge on Tahmasp, who defeated them twenty years ago.
As the mounting defeats and difficulties on his eastern border reach the Shah, Tahmasp finds himself obligated to lead his troops against the invaders himself. The authority and prestige of the Safavids cannot survive constant reversals--Persia is a very loose-knit realm, presently comprised of numerous smaller principalities that might break away if it becomes clear that the Shah cannot protect them. Still, Tahmasp feels fairly certain he can head off the Suri military machine--he is a fairly experienced, accomplished general with a record he is not undeservedly proud of. And so he sets out with high hopes.
Rather than mapping out the campaign in detail, we will give the short version--despite winning a few early victories, Tahmasp is ultimately soundly thumped by Islam Shah, with the Persian monarch himself perishing in a great battle near Kerman[19]. The truly epic defeat is met with delight by the Suri monarch, who notes to his heir, Firuz Khan, and his right hand man, the doughty old Hindu general Hem Chandra[20], his boundless joy at having bested and defeated his heretical foe.
Look--it's an empire based in Northern India. It's a complicated place, ruled by complicated men. Suffice to say, Islam Shah views Shiite Muslims as a greater spiritual threat than Hindus. Plus, they're more likely to cause trouble for him than the Hindus who tend to go along with the Suri program after a bit of prompting.
The battered remnants of the Safavid forces gather near the city of Mahan, under the leadership of Tahmasp's nephew and son-in-law, Ibrahim Mirza, where they send news of what's happened back to the capital, Qazvin, which quickly begins to play Persia's favorite succession game, 'Who Gets To Be Shah?'. Tahmasp's oldest son Mohammad is right out--born almost blind, he is traditionally barred from the throne thanks to his disability[21]. This makes the obvious candidate Tahmasp's second son, Ismail. Who is presently imprisoned, and has been for a decade, on charges of scheming to get the throne. This would seem to make one of his younger brothers a better choice, except they are all much too young, as well as each being surrounded by their own clique of scheming relatives. Many want a grown man to lead the Empire in this time of crisis, and those that don't all want their boy to sit on the throne, not someone else's. Thus, there's really no united opposition to Ismail's assumption of the throne, and he's released from prison, to his own great joy[22]. Ismail II's first action upon becoming Shah--ordering the blinding of all his young brothers (an act that winds up killing most of them)[23], and the deaths of their supporters. Once this bloodbath is finished up, Ismail sends a message to his cousin and brother-in-law, Ibrahim Mirza indicating that he'd like him to return to the capital. So Ismail can... honor him[24]. Ibrahim responds that... while obviously would love--LOVE--to see the Shah again, he's... kind of got a war to fight at the moment.
Ismail... is displeased by that, and begins arresting Ibrahim's friends and supporters in the capital. Ismail's supporters start thinking they may have made a bad choice here. And Persia finds that the problems caused by the invading hordes of the Suri Empire and their Uzbek allies may have just been compounded, as the Safavids' brief rule of Persia enters its final act[25]...
--Turning to another rival of the Turks--Venice's war with the House of Osman continues to go poorly, despite the revolts engulfing the Turkish empire. Simply put--it doesn't make much difference how much trouble your opponent is facing if there's no way for you to get soldiers to the place he's taken from you. While the Republic works, almost half-heartedly, to assemble another fleet, the folks back home indulge in the occasional bit of violent anti-Semitism, with the justification that a Jewish man took Cyprus from them, and so attacking random Jews will balance the scales... somehow.
But the average Venetian citizen isn't the only person contemplating regaining lost civic pride by attacking someone with very little chance of retalitating. After a bit of debate, Venice's Great Council hits on a great way to use those mercenaries they hired that are now sitting uselessly in Dalmatia and Istria. And so, Venice declares war on Austria in support of its dear, dear ally, King Janos of Hungary, and looses its men on Croatia, which gets yet another reason to hate Venice. As for Austria--well, they're less surprised than you might think, especially when the Serene Republic besieges Trieste. After all, the rest of their old enemies have been taking a shot--why not Venice? And as far as Venice is concerned, if they're going to be losing a valuable bit of territory, they might as well gain some more from somewhere else to make up the difference.
Still--there are some... brightish spots in the war for Cyprus--Venice has at last gained an ally in it--the Knights of Malta! Which as allies go is sort of like facing a bear with a housecat at your side--but hey, they know how to fight the Turk, as they've pretty much been doing so nonstop for the last few decades. In fact, them joining the Venetians in their struggle really isn't causing much of a change in the Knights' lifestyle and livelihood. Really--it's just another reason for them to play pirate against Turkish merchants[26]. But hey--when you're desperate, you take what you can get.
--Joachim II Hector, Elector of Brandenburg arrives back in Berlin after his lengthy captivity, looking by most accounts twenty years older than he did when he set out. Whatever joy he might feel at returning home is muted by the news of the death of his last surviving son, the Archbishop Sigismund of Magdeburg. Joachim Hector responds by having a lengthy discussion with his chaplain one night on the subjects of paradise, eternity and God's forgiveness, going to bed, and never waking up[27].
Needless to say, this causes a great deal of distress and chaos, as his young grandson Joachim III Frederick assumes the rule of Brandenburg, becoming the new Elector-Margrave. This causes a flutter in the election of a new Archbishop of Magdeburg--while Joachim was running earlier some wonder if he'll drop out in favor of a cousin, something that seems highly likely when the formidable George Diomedes von Hohenzollern of Kulmbach throws his blood-stained hat into the ring. But then Joachim announces that, no, no, he'll be running after all, which causes a great deal of confusion, and ends with Augustus of Saxe-Weisenfels becoming the new Archbishop.
The young Elector of Brandenburg is livid, and mostly with his cousin George. (Augustus is his uncle by marriage, and something of a friend, despite the dynastic differences.) George responds to the Elector's anger with his own brand of unpleasantness, which tends to get people scared that someone is going to get their head split open. George Diomedes is not a nice young man. However, he also respects Augustus of Saxe-Weissenfels, and so when the Duke insists the Elector and the Margrave have a sitdown meeting under his direction to keep things civil, he goes along. And so, in a few days, the Duke of Saxe-Weissenfels and Archbishop of Magdeburg has the pair friends again, with both considering Augustus a really great guy, despite the fact that he was the one who walked off with the prize they were both seeking.
There's a reason the John Frederick keeps Augustus around, you see.
--Brussels sees the meeting of the Council of State, under the auspices of Burgundy's governor, young Charles, Prince of the Asturias. Considering that this involves bringing together two groups of rebels, another group of loyalists, and the squad of Spanish soldiers his father sent with Charles to bring order to the region, it is naturally quite a tense affair. And yet, Charles manages to keep it all in hand, in no small part thanks to the fact that both the Beggars and the Spanish soldiers are quite loyal to the young Prince. The meeting begins with Charles asking for an elucidation of the complaints of the Burgundian nobles, as set forth in their previous declarations, something that winds up taking quite a while. The back and forth between Charles, the Council, its Beggar 'allies', and the loyalists takes numerous twists and turns, generally too inticate and at times dull to detail here. However, the jist of it is, Charles on the whole accepts the Council's proposals, including--to the surprise of many--the ending of the Burgundian Inquisition.
This last measure comes after a great deal of debate, and on Charles' part, prayer and reflection. By his own confession, he is uneasy with it, and yet the fact remains--the Burgundian Inquisition was established to protect the Faith, and it has failed miserably at this, enflaming passions and endangering his dynasty's rule over the Seventeen Provinces. As it does not serve, it must go. It must be stressed that Charles does not endorse a policy of de jure toleration--heresy is still a crime in the Burgundian Netherlands--he simply leaves enforcement up to the local authorities. Some of these are quite strict--others are quite the opposite. No one views this as ideal--but most do view it as a managable temporary compromise. With that done, Charles then has all the stadtholders present, as well as a good chunk of the nobility sign on to his new compromise. Many of the loyalists are quite nervous about this, as they wonder how King Philip will take it, but as Charles makes clear, he is here in Burgundy, with Spanish troops and a bunch of very loyal armed Burgundian followers, while Philip is hundreds of miles away, preoccupied by a thousand other things, and tends to, when confronted with a problem, look it over forwards and backwards twice before doing anything about it. It is best, the Prince of the Asturias implies, that they figure who is the greater and more immediate concern.
Juan de Vargas, captain of the Prince's Spanish troops, does his own figuring and reaches a different conclusion than most of the Burgundians. First, he delivers Philip's sealed orders to the Prince, who responds by first thanking him for bringing him this, as Charles had lost both copies that his father gave to him directly, and then casually tossing the orders into the fire. Having thus established that Charles is playing his own game here, Vargas bursts into a session of the Prince's Council of the State flanked by two soldiers, and brandishing King Philip's order naming him as governor should Charles 'become unfit'. Charles responds first with a few pleasant queries to the men of Vargas' escort based on their previous conversations with the Prince. He then asks Vargas how exactly it is that he is 'unfit'. Is he raving? Direly ill? Imprisoned? As Vargas is forced to acknowledge, none of these things are true--his impression of unfitness is based on his views of the Prince's actions. Charles' response that if the captain's criteria for 'unfitness' is Charles doing things the captain doesn't like, it gives Vargas entirely too much leeway. This, declares the Prince of the Asturias, is the great problem of Spain--his father's evil and malicious councilors, who exploit Philip's weakness of character to aggrandize themselves. As for Vargas, Charles gives him two choices--he may surrender and enjoy a merciful arrest, or he can attempt to flee.
Vargas takes the first option, and is marched away by the very soldiers he led into the council chamber.
Philip is of course, quite put out by all this, when he hears of it, but as Charles predicted, is much too distant, occupied, and hesitant to do much immediately. Aside from the fact that it hits Philip in the middle of a vast festival he's organizing to amuse his new wife, Dona Leonora, the King of Spain also has a rather bothersome colonial matter to deal with. Spanish explorer Pedro Menéndez de Avilés, who has been exploring Florida looking for his lost son for the last few years[28], has discovered that those pesky heretics in Bermuda have set up shop there, in a little fort they've dubbed Fort Orleans. Despite his efforts to expel them, the Orleans Huguenots, under the leadership of René Goulaine de Laudonnière[29], are well-armed, with alliances with the local Indian tribes. Retreating back to Cuba, Aviles sends his message informing that Bermuda is spawning new colonies. Aviles is fairly blunt--if the Huguenots are not expelled soon, they stand a good chance of becoming firmly entrenched in Florida, thus cutting off Spain from the potential riches in farmland, gold, and of course, a superior passage to China that might possibly be found there[30]. But attacking likely means starting a war with France, at a time when Spanish power has been slowly but steadily bled by the Second Schmalkaldic War, the crisis in the Seventeen Provinces and Spain's various other commitments. Direct confrontation is to be avoided for the moment--instead Aviles is given a commission to establish a fort on the mouth of what the Spanish call Rio de Espirit Santo[31]. This fort, Philip believes, will grant the Spanish a secure base to strike at the French in neighboring Florida in the near future, as well as capping off their advancement in Spain's rightful territory, and granting them a foothold into that handy dandy Chinese passage that Aviles likes to talk about. (Look, it's the 16th century--nobody's got the clearest picture of the New World's geography.) Aviles throws himself into his task with alacrity, which isn't that surprising when you consider that this is a guy who saw Florida as the route to riches and glory. Despite actually exploring Florida.
With all these threats rearing their heads, Philip is feeling acutely the limits of his power--thus Charles is given merely warnings, at the moment, to get his policies in line with his father's wishes. As for the situation in the New World, Philip hopes Aviles will be able to handle it for now, at least until Spain is able to really crush the Frenchies. And that Spain's vast colonial empire doesn't see anything crazy happen that might put a crimp in these plans. That would be bad.
--In Spain's vast colonial empire, the Viceroyality of Peru sees something crazy happen. Viceroy Diego Lopez de Zuniga, Count of Nieva has been Viceroy for many years now, and manages to simultaneously be an effective colonial administrator and a degenerate horndog that people hate. One evening, in the middle of the year, the Viceroy is on his way home from... a meeting with a acquaintance when a group of sturdy young men, all wearing masks, surround Nieva and beat him to death with clubs[32]. The New World's a pretty... rough place at times. Which isn't too different from the Old World.
The Viceroy's death sees a great deal of confusion, if remarkably little sorrow, especially as Peru is the larger, more ramshackle Viceroyality, with large sections of it that recieve very little oversight from Lima due to there being rather sizable mountains between them and the capital. Control of Lima is quickly seized by an older Basque conquistador, Lope de Aguirre, who was heading what was to be the third Amazonian expedition, which was leave Lima later in the year, head down the Amazon, searching for El Dorado, and the previous two expeditions, both of which vanished without a trace[33]. Aguirre is not a major figure in the colony--that's one reason he was slotted to command what many have come to view as a fool's errand--but he is a strangely commanding, forceful man, with a bunch of soldiers under him. Which makes him an acceptable leader for the interim that'll last until Madrid sends a new Viceroy.
At least, that's what they think.
For now, Aguirre doesn't seem like such a bad choice--he has people look around for whoever it was that killed Nieva, (but not too hard, as most people tend to have an attitude of 'good ridance'), as well as doing his best to make sure that the Viceroyalty doesn't get TOO chaotic. As Madrid is sent notice that a replacement is needed, Peru's latest vacancy is counterset by New Spain which gets a new Viceroy--Gaston de Peralta, 3rd Marquis of Falces[34]--after a vacancy of two years. Falces is facing a difficult job, and will take some time to get used to his new office. All of which is noted by a group of interested parties, who start ambitious plans of their own.
No, they aren't French. Look, there's a lot of things going on in the New World.
--As England's plague outbreak wraps up and that whole 'minor uprising on the Border' get itself good and crushed, the nation sees visitors from foreign shores, here to enjoy the hospitality of a nation that--by Renaissance standards--is a literal island of peace and tranquility. Protestant peace and tranquility, which is what brings these people here. Francis of Saxe-Lauenberg, young Prince William of Bavaria, his brother Ferdinand and his sister Marie Anne, Pomeranian brothers Ernst Ludwig of Stettin and Bogislaw of Wolgast-Barth, Christopher, Duke of Mecklenburg-Gustrow and Prince-Bishop of Ratzeburg, the sisters Catherine and Clara of Gifhorn, Prince Bernhard of Anhalt-Zerbst, and the royal princesses Cecilia, Sophie and Elizabeth Vasa of Sweden all arrive to tie their respective knots, the result of a lot of overlapping wedding negotiations realizing that they really needed a place to hold the marriages that wouldn't stand a good chance of getting shelled[35]. The betrothals run as follows--Francis of Saxe-Lauenberg is to wed Marie Anne of Bavaria, William of Bavaria is to wed Elizabeth of Sweden, Ernst Ludwig is to marry Sophie of Sweden, Bogislaw is marry Clara of Gifhorn, Christopher of Mecklenburg is to marry Princess Cecilia and Bernhard is to marry Catherine of Gifhorn[36]. (Ferdinand is just there to be a guest, and writes a vivid and penetrating account of his entire time in England in his journal.[37])
All of these weddings have their own reasons. For the Vasas and the Gifhorns, this is young dynasties proving that they've made it. For the Wittelsbachs, Mecklenburgs, Gryftas and Ascanias it's about keeping the family going while making ties to rising and established families. And for Henry IX, it's about showing off his wealth, his power, and his status as the the greatest prince of Protestantism, even if he isn't actually fighting in this big war right now. But damn it, he wishes he was, as he tells all the young noblemen coming to enjoy England's hospitality in a big booming voice, and with many grand gestures. Most of the young men nod in agreement, and come away with the impression that Henry IX is an awesome, awesome guy.
A notable exception is another guest--Henry's nephew, John Christian of Haderslav, who rather acidly notes in a letter to his wife that 'my uncle is a great man, and I know this because he says so, loudly and often.' The rotund young Dane waddles his way through all the ceremonies and celebrations, a strange and cynical figure, with a tendency to get into fights and arguments, including one incident where to get out of a conversation with the Duke of Longueville, he responds to the latter's questions by breaking wind loudly. But he's nice to the help, and also quietly arranges a few nice little loans to the Leipzig Bond members. As John Christian will later note, when asked what he did during the Second Schmakaldic War, 'I financed it'. The young heir to Schleswig-Holstein in Haderslav is, despite rumors to the contrary, a devout Lutheran. And a Neoplatonist and Christian Kabbalist--but he really views all that as complementing his Christian faith, not at odds with it. Indeed, John Christian will take a break from all the court functions to rush to the Englishman he admires most of all, so he may study at the feet of a master--fellow mathematician, astronomer and mystic, John Dee. Dee is initially rather puzzled by his spherical Danish admirer, but eventually he takes something of a shine to the young man. This promising friendship is, however, nipped in the bud when months later, Dee realizes that John Christian has absconded with several of his prized volumes. John Christian likes bargains, and 'free' is the best bargain of all.[38]
The weddings themselves are a varied bunch. The notorious Cecilia Vasa marries Christopher of Mecklenburg in a showy ceremony that is followed by the couple running up enormous bills, which is going to be something of a habit of their married life[39]. Her sister Elizabeth marries the somewhat more prestigious William von Wittlelsbach in a simple sombre ceremony dripped in Lutheran symbolism--William very much wants to advertise to the world that he isn't like his father--he's a really and for true Protestant. To his surprise, his newly-wedded wife is quite receptive to this, going so far as to include a few ideas of her own on how to achieve the properly True Lutheran effect--no Reform Lutheranism for her!
Indeed, William finds Elizabeth Vasa a pleasant surprise in all sorts of ways, the young Princess's person dispelling any doubts he might have of tieing himself to an upstart family filled to the brim with lunatics, crypto-Catholics, and Reform Lutherans. Yes, it even lets him ignore his truly horrible sister-in-law Cecillia's behavior. What can you say? The young man has a somewhat sentimental turn of mind. William's sister, Marie Anne is quite pleased with her husband, young Francis of Saxe-Lauenberg, and his other sister-in-law, the infinitely more pleasant Sophia is exceedingly pleased with her husband, the appropriately nicknamed Ernst Ludwig "the Fair". So, really many of these people are doing quite well with these arrangements.
Needless to say, Henry and Mary manage to keep themselves in the center of it all, treating their guests to an seemingly endless parade of spectacles which in the name of glorifying Protestantism glorify the King and Queen of "Greater Britain". It's all quite masterly done--Henry and Mary, as well as their various ministers, manage to point out the wealth and power of their shared thrones while neatly tucking all the less savory aspects of the realm out of sight, as best they can. That includes the growing number of beggars and the ongoing Dispute of the Hymnals--two things that aren't always seperate. As the Dispute drags on, many--especially on the Puritan side---are dragging other issues into it, specifically the burning social problems of the day. Thus, you aren't just seeing groups of Puritans singing psalms on streetcorners--you're seeing groups of Puritans singing Jeremiads and the Beatitudes and making points about those displaced by the regime's fencing of commons and development of fens. Much of this winds up pointing out the difference between the Puritans' City and Country factions--the latter are quite worried by all this, while many of the former are insisting that the poor should get used to eating up yummy, nourishing gruel in the place of acorn-fed pork, as these changes are benefiting the nation. Especially the wealthy merchants who happen to dominate the City Puritans. But again, Henry and Mary keep all this well out of sight, with the focus being on their shared favorite subject--their own mutual awesomeness.
Of course, no glorification of the Tudor throne is complete without a publishing development of the Duke of Norfolk's epically epic epic Brutus, and this year sees one. But not the publishing of the long-awaited third and final part--no, that'll be a while. No, instead Norfolk publishes the REVISED version of the first two parts, which improves some bits, adds a few new characters, expands the parts of others, and ultimately makes the thing half again as long. The greatest beneficiary of the additions is Corineus, a fellow Trojan descendent who becomes Brutus' second-in-command. Formerly a rather inconsistent background character, he now truly comes into his own, a dashing warrior-poet who has numerous adventures within the poem, including a highly symbolic battle with a giant monster named Fraud, 'fair of face, all foul behind'. And then there is his meeting with a wholly new character, who also absorbed the part taken by two previously nameless characters--Eriopis the Sorceress. Eriopis is, as Norfolk tells it, the daughter of Medea and Heracles, who lives on an island in the middle of a lake in Brittany, and she has been guiding Brutus throughout his life with her prophecies, often by arriving in disguise, and revealing some piece of information that discomfits him or the people that he's with. Corineus, hearing of her, rushes off to find her after accidentally starting that war with Aquitaine, which will lead to his going off with her towards England seperate of the rest of the Trojan expedition, with the plan being to get some important prophesying done. But even as quite a lot is added, a smidgeon is taken away--references to Brutus' betrothal to a Greek princess vanish, as Norfolk decides that. circumstances having changed, as he was already changing the legend a little, he might as well change it a lot. Instead, Brutus' recieves several prophesies of the blood of Neptune wedding the blood of Venus, which baffle the young Trojan prince, but which the poet insists will create a bloodline that shall 'astound the world'.
All this glorifying of the King of England and his good wife, the Queen of Scots, gets even MORE pronounced when Mary gives birth to the couple's latest child, a hearty young baby boy. The celebrations in England and Scotland are enthusiastic, as the line of succession to the British Thrones is now viewed as well and truly secure. The boy is christened 'Henry James', the result of a compromise reached between the King and Queen after months of lengthy discussion, and one which Mary finds quietly amusing in all sorts of ways. The young prince is swiftly created Duke of Clarence and Albany, in what will probably be something of the highpoint of Prince Henry James' life. (And no, it's not going to be an especially short one.) And then the court begins to head north. Henry has more of the kingdom to show off, and who knows--maybe Scotland will be presentable shortly. Miracles do happen.
--The nobles of the Leipzig Bond and Sweden are not the only people tying up marriage alliances--Reichart von Simmern, Elector-Archbishop of Mainz follows the example of his Leipzig Bond counterpart Salentin von Isenburg and weds Juliana von Wied[40], thus really really rubbing his Protestantism in the faces of the Council of Mantua. Indeed, many onlookers are now convinced that the Prince-Bishoprics are well on their way to becoming true Principalities, with none of this distressing--to Lutheran eyes, at least--blending of Church and State. The Elector-Palatinate is quite encouraged by his brother finally wedding--Reichart is actually one of the less radical Reform Lutherans, which makes relations with Frederick frequently rather... awkward. Still, this bold action does help restore good feelings between the pair. At least for now--Frederick is a bit much, even for immediate family. Hell, often especially for immediate family.
Frederick needs this sort of good news--the Heidelberg Compact is fraying badly, especially as the rather plentiful ecclesiastical lands in their Rhine and Swabian stomping grounds have largely been divied up, with very little guarantee that the people who've gotten them will be able to keep their gains. The Strasbourg faction is getting louder, and is starting to suggest that the Compact cut a deal with the Bond, putting forward an Imperial candidate for both Leagues to elect, in return for getting Reformed worship officially recognized as an acceptable Imperial rite. (They've pretty much accepted that, no, they can't get the Empire to name the True Lutherans as the filthy heretics anymore, and frankly, were probably always hoping for a miracle to get that one to fly.) Indeed, the Strasbourg crowd is already writing up just such a rite, and has even gotten leading Reformed Church figures from all over Europe to come help them out, including John Calvin's heir, Theodore Breda, while Christoph, Duke of Wurttemberg is loudly starting to vow that he will institute it in his domains, because that's the kind of sincere purveryor of Reform he is, as opposed to some other princes that will remain nameless. (If you're wondering, yes, large chunks of Christoph's life are dominated by a rivalry with the Elector-Palatinate.) The favored Imperial candidate is Charles, Duke of Lorraine, whose Catholicism, it is hoped, will somewhat mollify the Pope, even as Prince-Bishoprics and Prince-Abbeys are liquified or at least shifted into Protestant hands. Frederick doesn't know quite what he thinks about that, but he does rather like the Duke of Lorraine, who, Catholicism aside, makes it clear that he respects and admires the the Elector-Palatinate.
The Duke of Lorraine, who is still celebrating the birth of his first child--a boy named Henry--has marriage matters of his own to attend to. His youngest sister, Elizabeth has wed young Eberhand von Wurttemberg, eldest son and heir of the Duke, another fine example of Lorraine's "Catholic but not TOO Catholic" credentials in play. And Elizabeth isn't the only Lorraine sister with matrimonial issues--the once-widowed, once-jilted, still virginal Renata de Lorraine has gotten an offer from an unexpected source--Charles Emmanuel de Savoie, Young Bloodyhead himself, has asked to wed the former Dauphine. Needless to say, the dictator of Genoa and heir to Savoy is a very, very good catch, especially for a woman with Renata's rather colorful history at the wedding game--but the offer is on the table, and dates from the pair's meeting during the first gathering of the Four Charleses. Young Bloodyhead was smitten, and Renata--well, she wasn't exactly not smitten, and frankly, she's very flattered to have a man want to marry her.
Of course, technically Charles should be worried about his father and his king, but now that both have taken to asking him to get them loans--well, the power of the pursestrings is quite great. Presently uncle Henri's negotiations for a loan to help him start a war with Spain are going slowly, handled by a variety of agents, including, occasionally, Charles' younger brother, Victor Philibert, also known as "Testa d'feu"--the "Head of Fire" for his passionate spirit and famous temper[41]. Victor is a different man than his elder brother, running hot where Charles tends to run ice cold, but the pair share epic ambitions. Indeed, as Victor negotiates for Charles' terms on the prospective loan--he wants the banks to be granted tax gathering rights in Provence for a period of time--Charles' other agents are trying to score his little brother an Imperial princess, as payment for Vienna's breaking Bloodyhead's engagement without warning. True, Victor is even less fond of marrying a Hapsburg than Charles Emmanuel was, but he knows that sometimes, that's just how the dynastic sweepstakes roll.
--Ivan Grozny has a busy year. Even as he prepares his cousin Vladimir's execution, he has to deal with the resignation of Athanasius, the Metropolian of Moscow, for "health reasons". Many suspect that Athanasius, who prior to becoming Metropolitan had some fame as an icon-painter and writer, is operating under the real "health reasons" of not wanting to get arrested for his opposition to Ivan's new policies of mass brutality and state oppression[42]. His replacement, Germain, will demonstrate a great deal... less awareness of the dangerousness of his situation, and indeed, will make rescuing poor Vladimir of Staritsa a priority. The poor sap.
However, killing his cousin is on the Tsar's 'to do' list at the moment--Ivan's big preoccupation of the moment is getting a new wife, as Eudoxia has managed to die with remarkable speed after their wedding. Thus, the runner-up of the brideshow, Anna Koltovskyanya[43], finds herself bumped up to winner. This is a bigger deal than you might think--Orthodox custom holds that a fourth remarriage is abomination, even for a Tsar. Ivan's defense is that he didn't even get a chance to consummate marriage #3, thus making it not count--after some debate, the church fathers he makes this argument to agree that this is acceptable, and Ivan gets his fourth wife, in what everyone assumes will be an end to his marrying ways[44].
And then, having taken care of that issue, Ivan finishes up his reply to Andrei Kurbsky and sends it out. The resulting letter is far, far lengthier than Prince Kurbsky's to him, and indeed is a rather strange rambling thing--Kurbsky will call it 'your screed' in his reply to Ivan[45]. Still despite this, it is an astonishingly mesmerizing piece of work--even in his present mental state, Ivan is an exceedingly gifted writer with a flair for flamboyant language. Ivan's general reply to Kurbsky's accusations is that Ivan's the Tsar, and if Andrei is so certain Ivan's wrong, why didn't he tell him to his face, instead of running, ehh? Also, Kurbsky did things that made Ivan mad. So that makes his whole argument invalid.
And with that out of the way, poor Vladimir finds himself brought to "trial", which largely consists of finding him guilty of every crime Ivan can imagine and a few that have been suggested by oprichnik heads Afanasy Viazemsky and Alexei Basmanov. The decreed punishment--DEATH for Vladimir, his wife Eudoxia Romanovna Odoevskaya, and their children[46]. Metropolitan Germain steps forward to try and stop this hideous injustice, and promptly gets himself arrested for his trouble. As for Vladimir, he manages to get Ivan to agree to let his young daughters go, if they join a nunnery, but Ivan won't budge on the matter of Vladimir's sons. Indeed, Ivan's sentence is horribly cruel--he orders Vladimir and his family to take poison. Vladimir tries to argue against this, on the grounds that Ivan is forcing him to commit suicide, thus damning himself, but his wife manages to talk him out of it. The guilt, she says, is on Ivan--Vladimir is an innocent, and a martyr.[47] The Prince of Starista is convinced, and the sentence goes forward, in court.
What happens when it is carried out will of course, become quite famous.
--FROM 'PRINCE OF STARITSA' (1948)--
IVAN sits on his throne, an imposing figure dressed in black, with a long black beard. He is surrounded by a a crowd of oprichniks, creating a very intimidating tableu.
IVAN: So then, cousin, do you accept our sentence?
VLADIMIR OF STARITSA stands at the foot of the throne, with his two sons and his wife, EUDOXIA near him. He shuts his eyes and nods.
VLADIMIR: I am the Tsar's loyal subject, and I accept his ruling.
Ivan smiles, with gleeful malice.
IVAN: Excellent. Do so. Immediately.
An Oprichnik steps forward with a goblet, and hands it to Vladimir. Vladimir bites his lip, and turns to his family.
VLADIMIR: Who shall...?
EUDOXIA: Give... give it to the boys first, husband. It will be... a kindness for them.
Vladimir nods and turns to the children.
VLADIMIR: Now... my little men... I wish you to be brave for your father. Do you think you can... do this for me?
The two boys give nervous nods. Vladimir helps them drink from the goblet. The pair shudder, and then fall to the floor. Eudoxia buries her face in her hands. Vladimir goes to her with the goblet.
VLADIMIR: Peace, dear. Peace. They... they are with God and His angels, now. (He struggles to hold back a tear.) I need you to be strong, my dearest. Because your strength... is my strength. Can... can you do that for me?
Eudoxia gulps and manages a nod.
EUDOXIA: I... I will, Vladimir.
Vladimir smiles at her.
VLADIMIR: Thank you, my dear. You... you have been the finest wife a wretch like myself could hope for, and I thank heaven for granting you to me, for the short time we have had.
EUDOXIA: May we meet again there.
VLADIMIR: (nodding) I trust we will.
He offers Eudoxia the cup--she drinks it deeply. After a short while she stiffens--Vladimir rushes to take her by the shoulders and guides her body gently to the floor. He takes a deep breath, and turns to the throne.
VLADIMIR: The cup... is empty, oh Tsar.
Ivan smiles malevolently.
IVAN: Then it shall be refilled for you, my cousin.
Vladimir gives a dull nod, as an oprichnik approaches, and takes the goblet.
VLADIMIR: I... thank you, oh Tsar.
Suddenly, his eyes dart to the oprichnik's sword. His hand darts forward with incredible speed, and yanks it from the scabbard. As the oprichnik stares in bafflement, Vladimir thwacks on the head with his scabbard, and then tosses him aside. As the music suddenly begins a thrilling theme, Vladimir strides forward, sword in one hand, goblet in the other. A group of oprichniks step nervously between him and Ivan. He regards the oprichniks defiantly.
VLADIMIR: Come, sons of DOGS! Have you the strength to face a true Russian with steel in his hands?
One oprichnik nervously raises his sword--Vladimir disarms him with contemptuous ease. Two more attempt to rush Vladimir, only to have him easily toss them aside. The oprichniks start to panic and run away, as Vladimir continues towards Ivan.
VLADIMIR: Is that all? I have faced sterner foes in the Mongols! In the Poles! In the Livonians! Is this the finest our Tsar has to defend him? This?
Ivan rises hastily from his throne.
IVAN: Prince Vl.... Vladimir, I... I...
He nervously steps backwards, and trips. And the illusion is broken completely--this imperious Tsar is a pathetic frightened man. As Vladimir strides forward, sword in hand, Ivan scoots back nervously. He is not quick enough. Vladimir holds his sword over Ivan's head.
VLADIMIR: What oh, Tsar? What would you have of me...?
Ivan gulps, whimpers, and begins to scream, tears in his eyes.
IVAN: I... Save me! Help! I... HELP!
Vladimir gives Ivan one last contempt-filled gaze, and then raises his goblet.
VLADIMIR: Long life to the Tsar, whose loyal servant I am!
He downs the goblet in a single swallow. As Ivan stares, sword and goblet fall from the Prince's hands and he falls backwards, lying on the stairs. Ivan blinks and rises, unsteadily.
IVAN: (quietly) Vlad... Vladimir...
He rushes down the stairs to the Prince, and stares at him.
IVAN: Oh... oh, what have I done... Ohhh....
Ivan kneels, and embraces Vladimir, cradling him in his arms, his hand lovingly stroking Vladimir's chest.
IVAN: Vladimir... Vladimir... I'm sorry... Oh... oh... what have I done... I... I've killed him... I've killed him...
Vladimir's eyes creep open.
VLADIMIR: (weakly) Ivan...
IVAN: Vladimir... Vladimir... I... I'm sorry... I'm sorry...
VLADIMIR: Ivan... I...
He seems to take a great deal of effort to be saying his next word--and then spits on Ivan's face.
VLADIMIR: I spit on your... apology. Because that... that is what it is worth. You have... battened on the blood... of your kin, and... your land to feed your... monstrous vanity. And you will... continue to, now that I'm gone. Because that... is all you know how to do. You may babble of remorse... but that's all it is. Babble. Words. Nothing... nothing more. You... you will never change. And that... that is why God will damn you to hell, you monster. (He takes one last, deep breath.) God... will... damn you.
Vladimir's eyes shut. Ivan lets out a moan.
IVAN: Oh... how horrible. He's dead. The finest, the truest, the best of us all. And he... he is dead! Oh, dear Vladimir.
He kisses Vladimir on the forehead, repeatedly, then slowly releases the Prince from his grasp. He stands up and regards the crowd at court.
IVAN: You... you... Do you see what you've done! (He shakes his fist at them.) He is dead! The Prince of Staritsa is dead, and all due to your lies, your slanders, and your wickedness! He is dead, this man--my kinsman--to who not one of you was worthy to lick the heel of his shoe when it had trod in the mud! (He points accusingly at the crowd.) You will pay for this! You will ALL pay for this! If you thought me cruel before, now--now I will show you what cruelty means! (He turns to the Oprichniks.) And you! You, my Oprichnik, who are to be my loyal servants. Do you see how you have failed? Had that been any man but the Prince of Staritsa, I would be dead! (He stamps his feet.) He made you look like a bunch of fools! Afanasy Viazemsky!
One of the Oprichniks, more richly dressed than the others, steps forward.
AFANASY: Yes... yes... Oh, Tsar...
IVAN: This is all your fault! YOU were the one who turned me against my beloved cousin! YOU were the one who turned the oprichniki into a farce! YOU have failed me! (He takes a deep, snarling breath.) And you shall pay the ultimate price! Basmanovi! (Two oprichniks step forward, and surround the unfortunate Afanasy.) Show him the price of FAILURE!
The Oprichniki draw their swords.
AFANASY: Al... Alexei.... Fyodor... You... you can't... You... NO!!!
The Basmanovs stab him repeatedly. Ivan watches with satisfaction.
IVAN: Let you all learn this lesson! Those who wrong me PERISH FROM THE EARTH!
The oprichniks all bow to Ivan.
OPRICHNIKS: Hail to the Tsar! Hail to the Tsar! Hail to the Tsar!
Ivan shuts his eyes, and listens to the cheers. He nervously bites his lip, but then stiffens, once again Ivan Grozny.
--Of course, the actual incident is a bit less dramatic--Vladimir merely grabs an oprichnik's sword when granted the opportunity, waves it menacingly, watching as the supposedly elite bodyguards draw back in fear, then proclaims "what brave and loyal dogs you have!" to the Tsar--who likewise was freaking out during the whole matter--before drinking his poison. But the general outline is quite true--Vladimir shocks everyone with courage and composure in the face of death, and ensures that Ivan looks like a fool and the oprichniki look like useless cowards.
Many start hoping that Ivan might just start rethinking the reign of terror bit, especially when oprichnik head Afansy Viazemsky gets himself arrested--especially the just-released Metropolitan Germain. The well-meaning Metropolitan suggests maybe, just maybe, the Tsar should consider getting rid of the oprinicha, given that it isn't working. He is arrested again, vanished into the Tsar's prisons, and swiftly joins his predecessor in resigning his post due to ill health, though in his case, it is because he is dead.[48] Ivan, having managed what will be a career best of persecuting two Metropolitans of Moscow out of office in a year, appoints an old buddy of his, Filipp Kolychev, to the post. Filipp is an Abbot of a small monestary and is universally respected for his sanctity and his management skills--many in the Church consider him an ideal choice. Plus, he has relatives in the oprichnina, so Ivan is certain that he'll keep quiet about it.
Naturally, the first thing Filipp does is start pestering Ivan about the oprichnina, and even at first insists he won't take office if Ivan doesn't dismiss it. Ivan--who is starting to wish he hadn't killed Germain--sputters and fumes and refuses, and Filipp at last caves, figuring he can do more good in a high position. Ivan does make some vague noises about not letting things get out of line again, but it's questionable that anyone believes him, especially not Filipp. Indeed, given that the newly-minted Metropolitan immediately starts feeling around in the Church for support for an edict calling for the immediate dissolution of the oprichnina and its accompanying organization, it is safe to say that Ivan has made something of a blunder here.[49]
As for the oprichniks--Viazemsky is quietly executed with his former partner Feodor Basmanov now acting as sole head, begining something of a custom in the organization for taking the top spot by axing your predecessor. Indeed, Basmanov acquires the services of the men who will backstab him, Grigori 'Maliuta' Skuratov-Belski and Vasily Gryaznoy, former servants of Vladimir who backstabbed the Prince to get in good with the Tsar. So Viazemsky can rest assured that his assassin will get what's coming to him.
--East Frisia sees the formidable Elector-Archbishop Salentin von Isenburg, die Panzerprest, the Fist of Lutheranism, the Guy You Don't Want Angry At You, arrive to straighten out the city of Emden's dispute with Count Edzard. The Elector's version of this involves a brief, brutal siege followed by a brief, brutal storming[50]. When it's over, Edzard's wretched brother is dead, his mother has fled, and Emden is in ruins. The Count is... rather less than pleased with this, reportedly stating 'And now what? Am I to rule over dust and ashes?' in private, but publically is very thankful to the Archbishop, in the hopes that the man will go away. Which, as Salentin has a son on the way, he does.
In many ways, the whole brief, bloody affair is a sign of things to come, as many Protestant German states are... well, running out of Catholics to hound and occasionally kill, and thus are shifting to Protestants who are doing it wrong. But for now, it is just one more thing for the two different Schmakaldic Leagues to wave their fists at each other about.
Even as things go well for the Leipzig Bond in East Frisia--for a certain value of 'well', at least--problems pop up elsewhere. Like everyone else, they've been letting mercenaries go because--well, they're expensive, and the Bond doesn't need them as much anymore. This usually involves paying them--or rather their companies--what we would term a severance package. As the size of the package is generally determined by length of service, it is thus usually recent hires who get let go first, with older hands staying on. This frequently causes resentment from the recent hires, who remember, also generally haven't had the opportunities for loot that the older hands have had. Add to this, the older hands are generally Saxons, and the members of rather prestigious companies, while the recent hires are generally a rag-tag bunch gathered from all over Europe, and you can guess that there's a lot of tension building up. And things reach a boiling point when one Enno Brandrok, a Norwegian, starts claiming that the Bond's taken to paying the mercenaries with debased coin and that in fact, they are owed a great deal more than they are being paid. Soon Brandrok has gathered a group of very angry men around him who have guns and want money. And as it becomes clear they aren't getting the latter, they start using the former in a mercenary revolt.
Brandrok, the principal of this affair who will give it his name, is an intriguing character--in both meanings of the word. A lesser noble from Norway who ran into money problems, he went east into Sweden and played a role in Erik Vasa's invasion of Trondelag, encouraging the Swedish king to believe that the area was ripe for a takeover, and that Brandrok could deliver it to him on a silver platter. While things have more or less gone Erik's way, it quickly became clear that Brandrok had been exaggerating both the situation and his influence in the region. And thus, the Norwegian mercenary and his royal patron had a bit of a falling out[51], which was followed by Brandrok fleeing to the Empire, and signing up with a new mercenary company that signed up with the Leipzig Bond, which is where we came in.
The Brandrok rebels swiftly take over the Schwartzburg region, and then find themselves in something of a bind--as frequently occurs in mercenary revolts. The Bond is, oddly enough, not going to pay them and none of the other participants in the Second Schmalkaldic War are willing to touch them. And so, they essentially wind up living in Schwartzburg, fending off attacks, and praying to God that something happens to make the Bond want to mend fences. On the whole the revolt manages to convince people that things in the War are getting a bit wild, without managing to quite convince them that they should really try to end it now. After all--they all know they can get a better deal. Indeed, for some--like Charles of Tyrol--this is a sign that the Bond's strength is starting to fray, the consensus and sense of purpose that keep it in funds withering. And that... that is a dangerous thing to deal with.
--In Geneva, a plot years in the making springs into action. A group of Italian teamsters bringing goods in from the south reveal that they are in fact no such thing, but are in fact a group of mercenaries that certain Catholic residents of Geneva have hired so they can attempt a coup. Normally, this would be a desperate effort the Geneve militia would crush in hours--but a surprising chunk of them are serving under the Heidelberg Compact, and the upper leadership are with Theodore Breda in Strasbourg. That gives the coup the muscle it needs to start with surprising success--and once that happens, the citizenry prove surprisingly acquiesant, at least at first. For most Genevan citizens, a Catholic attempt to seize the citizen has been seen as all but inevitable--the Savoies have been grabbing up land around the city for years now, tightening the noose. Of course, that is hardly new--the Dukes have been trying to grab Geneva for centuries now, even before religion got added into the mix. But for most of that time, Geneva has been able to count on quiet aid from France to stay independent. That is... no longer the case, to put it mildly.
Having thus seized control of the city, the Catholics immediately get to work--trying to produce a reasonable religious compromise that will satisfy both parties. Services stay in Geneva's French vernacular, but the Bible used switches to a more Catholic-friendly version than Calvin's official translation[52]. (In fact, they switch to the most Catholic-friendly version of all, the Mantuan translation, which is technically for study, not Mass, but frankly, the thought of Geneva going Catholic again satisfies all but the most diehard reactionaries, so no one makes an issue of this.) Indeed, the general gist of the coup's government is 'Remember the days when we all got along? And we didn't live in a constant state of siege? That was nice, wasn't it?' Their hope is that people agree with them, and that they can deliver on the niceness.
As for the Protestants, they turn to their allies, the cantons of the Swiss Confederacy, who do what they do best--bicker and argue about the matter. The Confederacy has never exactly been a model of efficient government and harmonius alliance--growing religious differences have only excarberated these problems. The general consensus, pushed by the Catholic cantons, is that Geneva isn't a true member of the Confederacy, and this isn't a war, so... screw them. However the Protestant cantons, being a bit more powerful and rich, aren't exactly happy about this, and so start indicating to the Protestant Genevans that they'll give them some help in this matter, under the table, as it were. The Catholic cantons suspect that the Protestants will do this and warn them not to--the Protestants tell the Catholics to butt out, and then start accusing them of plotting with outsiders to retake Bishoprics, the Catholics respond by accusing the Protestants of plotting coups against Catholic governments, and everybody goes home angry. On the whole, a normal meeting of the cantons these days.
The Genevan Protestants start thinking that they might have to reconsider their alliances.
--Moldavia, the little Turkish vassal with big problems, faces an invasion by former voivode Alexandru Lapu?neanu, who hopes to become present voivode Alexandru Lapu?neanu once again. Backing Alexandru are the rebels in Constantinople, who hope to put a friendly ruler between them and Poland. Stefan Tomsa make a valiant stand against the invader, only to have most of his army pull a runner on him. He responds by pulling a runner himself, trying to escape to Hungarian territory. He doesn't make it, and is cut down by Alexandru's mercenaries, though his young son will flee to Transylvania.
With that out of the way, Alexandru announces to the boyars that caved, that naturally there will be no reprisals. He then starts the reprisals[53], partially out of a need for revenge, partially out of a need for funds, and partially because he has no idea when his backers in Constantinople are going to fall apart, and he wants to be sitting pretty when they do. And so all Moldavia cries out for a savior.
His arrival next year will be... something of shock.
--Affairs in Ireland are continuing to continue, as the First Originalist Revolt heads towards the end that really isn't going to be an end at all, but more of protracted pause, or perhaps, a lengthy submerging into the background. The various Bourke clans are torn down member by member--Risdeárd Sassanach is rescued from his imprisonment to make the unpleasant discovery that the sons who put him there are dead, with Ulick having perished by getting on the wrong end of a cannonball. Risdeárd an Iarainn Bourke is likewise defeated and killed in a battle with forces under the command of Gilbert Humphrey, who takes the man's head back to the Earl of Essex. It will be brought to him in the middle of a talk with Wiltshire, who will then get to see his companion-in-arms pause in their conversastion to spit in its face before it gets put on a very tall spike. But then, Hal Cromwell never denied this was personal.
Of course, Essex isn't the only one person doing things that wind up cementing his rep as dangerous bastard down through the ages. The Duke of York winds up facing a trio of prospective assassins who approach him pretending to be ordinary soldiers. The game is given away by one of the three muttering instructions to his fellows in Gaelic, unaware that Edward speaks the tongue. The unarmed Duke leaps into action, and his three would-be killers discover that an unarmed Grim Ned is... well, not an easy target. Edward demolishes the trio bare-handed--two will require medical attention afterwards for broken limbs, while one of them will expire shortly from a "split skull". The whole incident quickly is added to the growing mythology of "the Second Black Prince".
Edward's response to the whole affair is rather calm--even dismissive. For him, the biggest issue is how Ireland is going to be handled after this is over, and he has some ideas. Big, Duke of York-sized ideas based on the big, Duke of York-sized situation he's got over here.
Edward doesn't deny that things--well, aren't pretty. Oh, the Originalists are collapsing upon themselves--no question about that--and for the moment the English and their allies are gaining control of the countryside. Indeed, Edward notes that the English have, at the moment, the greatest grip on Ireland that they have held for generations, but that's the thing--'at the moment'. Sure, right now, the English are kicking ass and naming names, while various Irish lords agree that yes, yes, the proper heir to this landholding is most assuredly an Englishman, and will you go kill the scary Originalists now, please? But what happens afterwards, when this present tulmult is simply a dull memory? No, it will take a permanent military presence to keep Ireland peaceful, and as York freely admits, that will prove... expensive. Edward thinks the costs could be deferred somewhat by taking a page from the Romans and creating what would amount to military colonies--but even then it would hardly be inexpensive. Still, he feels it could prove worth it, especially if incentives are offered in the form of free land--something that Ireland has quite a bit of at the moment, with all the death and destruction. Indeed, such a measure might prove helpful in restoring the land to its former prosperity. Such as it was.
Edward isn't exactly proposing anything revolutionary here--England has dabbled with various settlement schemes in Ireland for centuries, with the end result being some of Edward's "Old English" Irish allies, and quite a few of his enemies. The difference is he's proposing it to a King of England married to a Queen of Scots, with a shared problem that another relative has been frum-fruming about involving getting people OUT of the country. And so Henry and Mary have an idea. A wonderful, horrible, world-changing idea.
--Charles Stuart, Earl of Lennox sails in the Jesus of Lubeck from Danzig to Lubeck, from Lubeck to Copenhagen and from Copenhagen to Dover, where his pals John Hawkins, Francis Drake, and Edward Courtenay all assure him the secret brotherhood of English Catholics are waiting, just dying to put him on the throne. Lennox believes this, and goes with them because--well, because he's young, and foolish, and desperate. Life in Poland has been getting steadily more unpleasant for him after his estrangement from his wife and her family, and so despite the wishes of his mother, he has decided on this wild throw of the dice. He is accompanied by a handful of followers, among them the three Englishmen and their own retinues, as John Hawkins is providing the Jesus of Lubeck as well as other vessels from his merchant fleet.
Just how wild a throw is proven when, on arrival in Dover, the crew of the Jesus of Lubeck proceed to apprehend Lennox at the direction of Hawkins, Drake and Courtenay, along with most of his associates. As Charles Stuart realizes he has made a tremendous mistake, it is time to do a bit of backtracking. You see, our English trio have been lying about many things, among them being Catholics. Drake is a lifelong Protestant, with a Protestant preacher for a father--Courtenay's conversion was, in fact, not only conveniant, but sincere--and Hawkins' largest religious faith is in himself, though he's also a Protestant. Mostly.
It all starts with Hawkins, who was in fact never quite so estranged from Henry as he pretended. Indeed, when the King of England regretfully pulled the plug on the entire "massive slave smuggling operation to the New World" plan, he offered to make Hawkins his man in the Baltics to make up for it. And remember--Henry's already got a Baltic and Muscovy Company, albeit one whose members have a tendency to die by having their ships trapped in ice[54]. Hawkins took up the massively profitable Baltic trade with a gusto, using his "estrangement" from the Crown to get his ships through the Sounds at a reduced rate, and get in good with various Danish factions, as well as various Polish and Lithuanian factions. Which is how he stumbled on Lennox, a person that Henry Tudor had been somewhat surprisingly preoccupied with at the time.
At this point we double back to Courtenay, who was astounded by the regularity with which Catholics approached him, and tried to get him involved in their various schemes. Most of which were wildly impractical and only threatening to Henry IX in the most abstract of senses, but then Henry considers things like 'smuggling priests in to perform secret, undercover Catholic services for English holdouts' to be quite important. And so Courtenay started to share the information the Catholics were politely dumping in his lap, in hopes of maybe getting his father's lands and titles back. Henry IX, given these two things, realized he had a golden opportunity here to take care of the Lennox problem once and for all.
As his would-be rival to the throne is carted off to his imprisonment, Henry congratulates himself on a job well done. True, he wasn't able to get the more prominent crypto-Catholics in the country to incriminate themselves by backing Charles--but that was always a long shot. The important thing is--he's got the pretender. It's all over for the Earl of Lennox. Now he just has to figure out how's the best way to handle the execution.
Naturally, the trio of men who brought him this plum prize are to be rewarded. Cousin Edward Courtenay shall have to wait for his--though he does get a certain taste in the form of the restoration of certain old Courtenay family estates--but John Hawkins shall get his immediately in a license to the West Indies trade, signed by Henry AND Philip of Spain. Spain's "ironbound" monopoly on the Americas has always been--well, a leak sieve, especially due to the meddlesome fact that Spain doesn't have the ships to keep its colonies supplied. Thus, Burgundian and English ships generally make up much of the difference--theoretically under license from Spain, but... well, in practice, not always. Of course, Hawkins' license is quite limited, but then as Hawkins' slave trade generally involved getting official permission to trade with the Spanish colonies AT the port he was trading in, generally at gunpoint, the King of England is certain the wily old trader can find a few loopholes. Or create them. With bullets if necessary.
As for young Francis Drake, he's proven himself to his cousin, who chose him thanks to needing a bluff young fellow to relate to Lennox as bluff young fellows often do. Drake does get a little under the table money from the king--enough to let him wed his childhood sweetheart Mary Newman[55]--but for him, the true reward is a captaincy in John Hawkins upcoming expedition to Africa and then across the sea to the New World.
Truth be told, Drake prefers this to the money in some ways--the whole matter of Lennox has left with something of a bad taste in his mouth, and he will go down to write one of the few positive--or at least, not overwhelmingly negative--views on the 'Great Pretender', noting that underneath all his bluster, Lennox is "not so awful a man," and that he would have likely turned out better "had he not be born to such high estate".
Most agree that's a rather fair--if slightly charitable--view.
--Maria of Spain prepares to depart Vienna, most of her younger children in tow. The plan is for the little group to leave without much fanfare and head to a country estate, where they will lie low Thus, daughters Martha and Maria, and youngest child Maximilian are with the "Queen of the Romans" in the small stable where their carriage is at the ready, preparing to leave, when it happens.
The stable explodes.
Maria, little Maximilian, and Martha are killed instantly in the blast, along with quite a few servants and innocent bystanders--well, more innocent bystanders, since it's hard to see what the Prince and Princesses have done other than have Maria as a mother. Princess Maria takes horrible wounds that will kill her in a few hours, another thing she is not alone in. And among the wounded, one man is found, relatively unharmed, and babbling incoherantly. At first taken for another victim, this view quickly changes when he starts asking his rescuers for help setting off the charges he's set under the Archduke's apartments. A quick search reveals gunpowder right where the man said it would be--meanwhile, people begin to place him, as the quiet young man who's been going about his own business in the palace for the last few months. And having thus given himself away, the man doesn't stop, but keeps revealing the locations of other caches he's stowed away in what appears to have been a scheme to eliminate as much of the Hapsburgs as possible at a blow. A search of the dead reveals the older man who would occasionally accompany him, though this identification takes a while, as the man is... quite badly scorched. Obviously, this limits what he can reveal, but his employer more than makes up for that, cheerfully babbling his plans to anyone who will listen.
He is eventually revealed to be Alfonso Carafa, a nephew of the late Cardinal Carafa[56], an immense surprise to almost everyone, who were all but certain this would be revealed as the act of a Protestant extremist. To understand why he's done this, we must go into Alfonso's past. Alfonso was something of hanger-on in his uncle's household, with a great deal of personal piety, but very little intellectual ability, something that would result in great ambitions to serve the Lord that would be constantly thwarted. Alfonso would, several years after his uncle's death, attempt to join the Theatine order the Cardinal founded and fail. He would then attempt to get ordained as a priest... and fail. And join various lay orders. And fail. Part of it was, Carafa's name was generally not a magic ticket into a church that had largely come to see him as a disruptive old fool prior to his passing. And part of it was, Alfonso wasn't the brightest of men.
Constant failure bred disappointment. Disappointment bred bitterness. And of course, there was just the collection of bitter, disappointed men who DID view the Carafa name as a magic ticket for Alfonso to fall in with--the Society for Purity and Correctness in Doctrine. Alfonso started off quite well here--indeed, one might almost say he'd fallen in with his element--but you see, the Cathars have their own odd little politics and once again, Alfonso's... lack of good sense tended to get him in trouble with his fellow enthusiasts. Especially after a nasty spot of fever where it transmogified into out and out delusion[57]. Young Alfonso was ousted from Cathar group after Cathar group, winding up in stranger, more extreme ones the entire time--and then getting thrown out of them for being too weird.
Eventually, his delusions had fixed on the set of beliefs that had lead him to his assassination, which went, roughly, as follows. The Catholic Church has been afflicted by many wicked and heretical princes, some of whom lie without, and yet many of whom are as yet within it. It is these that are the greatest threat, gnawing at the Church like a canker--and the worst of these are the Hapsburgs, who hold all Italy in their grasp, and who use their disputes with the more honestly heretical Protestants as an excuse to gather more power to themselves. It is because the Hapsburgs are just as bad--if not worse--than the Protestants that the Catholics have known nothing but failure following their banner. If the Catholic Church is to triumph, the accursed family must be rooted out from its places of power, starting with the Holy Roman Empire. Once this is done a good Catholic, ROMAN Emperor may be selected--Alfonso favors Paolo Giordano Orsini, Count of Braccano[58], a minor noble of an old family who is utterly baffled when he hears that young Carafa thinks he's the perfect Holy Roman Emperor, especially as he isn't even aware of having ever MET Alfonso. (Indeed, Orsini spends a great deal of time assuring people that he really had nothing to do with this, which makes a lot of sense, as the next part of Alfonso's "plan" involved the Count leading the forces of Italy against the unworthy Pope.) Hence the effort to wipe out the Austrian Hapsburgs. They've got to go first, and the rest will just work like clockwork.
And so, Alfonso set out, using his not inconsiderable personal funds to get to Vienna, where he recruited a Catholic Swiss sapper and bought a great deal of powder, all in prepration of his masterplan. First, he scouted out locations. Then, he began to hide his caches of powder. Of couse, you may ask, "And nobody noticed?" to which the answer is "To an extent, but not as much as you might imagine." 16th century security isn't very good at the best of times--in the middle of a war, with a lot of distractions is not that. Add to that, Vienna was focused on the threat posed by German Protestants, and thus everyone ignored the Catholic Italian. Which is, apparantly, how he pulled it off.
Naturally, many people aren't satisfied by this explanation. The wife of the principal Archduke of Austria, a claimant to the Imperial dignity--and sister to the King of Spain--is dead, along with most of her children. There HAS to be something BIGGER behind this than a lone Italian lunatic with too much money and a mad hate-on for Hapsburgs. There just HAS to be. And so the oddball theorizing begins. It was the secret work of the Protestants. It was the secret work of the Pope, through the Jesuits. It was the secret work of the Archduke Ferdinand. It was the secret work of the French. It was the secret work of the Hungarians. It was the secret work of the Turk. It was the secret work of the Spanish. All of which is, of course, nonsense, requiring Alfonso to be working with a variety of people that he actually hates, but again this is more about what people desire to be true than it is the actual truth.
Aside from all this conspiracy-mongering, the most dramatic effect is on Ferdinand II, who falls, piecemeal, into one of his melancholies. True, his relations with Maria may have been... well, awful, but she was his wife, and then he was quite fond of all the children. Still, it is is not one of his worse ones--he has Lavina and his bastards, especially young Ferdinand, to keep him company, and, arguably for the first time in years, a sense of purpose and his own necessity. But he begins to miss meetings, to keep to himself, to tune out at strange times. At last, his brother Charles Francis of Tyrol, and his most persistant brother-in-law, Gunther, Count of Schwarzberg, confront the man and insist that he retire from government for a time. Ferdinand attempts to protest, but his heart isn't in it.
And so, the Archduke Charles Francis of Tyrol becomes the Regent--and immediately brings any peace talks to an end. While the significance of this is debated to the present--the talks were already going nowhere--it is certain that the Archduke handles the situation with a great deal more aggressiveness than his elder brother would have, more or less seeking a return to active war. Charles Francis is certain that this a moment of opportunity for the house of Austria. And that he is going to be the man who seizes it.
--Returning to China, the civil war begins in earnest when Zhu Zaixun sends a small, but extravagently-equipped army down towards his brother's capital, with hopes of crushing the civil war fairly early. The army is the brainchild of Grand Secretary Xu Jie, a self-made man whose climb to the top has resulted in his family becoming one of the wealthiest landowners in his home province. That's a large reason why Xu Jie has not joined the heavily reform-minded party that surrounds Zhu Zaihou, one of whom, the genuinely incorruptable censor Hai Rui, he let out of prison shortly after the Jiajing Emperor's death. (A quick aside to explain why Hai Rui was in prison in the first place--last year, Hai Rui, having reached the end of his patience, sent the Jiajing Emperor a memorial in which he stated that Zhu Houcong had been a disastrous Emperor, neglecting his duties for over twenty years, and failing as a man, as a father, and as a ruler. On investigating his critic, the Jiajing Emperor discovered that not only did Hai Rui have a reputation as a man of rare moral fortitude, but prior to sending his memorial, he'd sent his family home, and bought himself a coffin. Rui was--after some debate--arrested, then subjected to brutal torture in an effort to see if he was attached to an anti-Imperial conspiracy. Needless to say, if Zhu Houcong had managed to live longer, it would have likely gone very badly indeed for the censor, but he didn't, and Hai Rui's fellow scholars really didn't want to kill him. And so Xu Jie arranged his release, which is where we came in.[59])
Still his own slightly dodgy ethics aren't the only reason Xu Jie hasn't joined the Confucian exodus to the Chongzhen court in Nanjing--he has genuine concerns that starting a war over this will be exceedingly destructive to the empire, worse than Zhu Zaixun's rule could be. He has, after all, managed to survive the Jiajing Emperor, and is convinced he can survive the Longqing Emperor as well. And if he can survive--so can China. Preferably under his guiding hand. Of course.
Xu Jie's plan is to crush the Chongshen court psychologically--show them what the Longqing court has at its command so they crumble. Unfortunately for him, the Chongshen court has its own military leader--Qi Jiguang, who has been fighting off Japanese pirates for the last decade[60]. And Jiguang, having finally beaten them off for the time being, is more than happy to serve the cause of proper succession, AND the rule of an upright man surrounded by righteous Confucian scholars. And so the Longqing army meets its Chongshen counterpart. It is not so grand and glorious as its Northern foe--but it is filled with hardened veterans who have faced terrifying enemies in battle. They smash the Northerners handily. And then they run off with all the loot they've gotten. As Jiguang notes, they're good men, but you have to make allowances for them. Still, for the moment, this mean both sides are now down an army.
Naturally, neither court is exactly overjoyed by these results, but the Chongshen court can at least boast of having won. The Longqing Court is looking for a scapegoat, and--well, the guy who came up with the idea is seen as ideal for the job. Xu Jie attempts to retire with dignity, but the Longqing Emperor, showing the charm that will allow him to go down in history as a worthy successor to his father, has him soundly thrashed before sending him into exile. The man administering the thrashing is Ma Qiu, the Longqing Emperor's eunuch Director of Ceremonial, and head of the Eastern Depot[61].
Ma Qiu is arguably the most important figure in the Longqing court, surpassing even the Emperor. A hulking Turk from the northwestern fringes of the Empire, Qiu is popularly supposed to have been one of those roving Eunuch gang members in Beijing until the young Zhu Zaixun saw him beating up a crowd of his... associates who'd tried to cheat him out of well-deserved win at a kickball game. Zaixun saw a lot of himself in the massive eunuch--well, a lot of what he likes to imagine is himself, really--and soon a lasting partnership was formed. And it will prove a profitable one--throughout the long struggle, it is Ma Qiu who will provide the Longqing Court--and its successor, the Wanli Court--with the leadership and drive they will need, as Zhu Zaixun concentrates on a an accomplishment more within his abilities--becoming the fattest Emperor in China's lengthy history.
His brother is likewise leaving the government of China to his underlings to pursue more... physical matters, though they are a less... infamous bunch than Ma Qiu. Zhang Juzheng, who is serving as his former protege's Grand Secratary[62], promises that the Chongshen court shall be a source of reform, renewal, and proper Confucian rectitude. For most, the triumph against the Longqing court is a sign of things to come. They will defeat the usurper, seat the proper Emperor and restore the Ming to its original glory and vigor. For how can Heaven not stand with such righteous men?
--Poland's war against Russia is going damned well--Ivan has been forced to break out his A-squad generals from the monastic exile he sent most of them into in a desperate effort to keep from being pushed out of Lithuania. Sigismund Augustus is greatly encouraged by this, and decides to accompany the army this year to grab a bit of the glory for himself. And thus he heads out to supervise the siege of Polotsk, planning to regain what he has earlier lost.
This is a mistake on his part. A stray stone launched from the wall strikes the king in the head--though he initially seems fine, several hours later he becomes incoherant and collapses. He will die the next day, never regaining consciousness.[63]
The death of Sigismund II is devastating for the Polish-Lithuanian government. While his young son, Kasimir Sigismund, succeeds to the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, his election to the crown of Poland is delayed for months as the Sejm debates the details and conditions of his regency. As this means that Polish subjects have no obligation to defend Lithuania, many don't, and so the Russians wind up regaining a great deal of lost ground. This naturally gets rolled into the debate, as a large part of it is what role the future King's Radizwill relatives will be playing in the government. And so the Sejm does what it does best--debate, discuss and avoid action as Lithuanians fight to defend their land, a state of affairs that shall remain in place for the rest of the year.
As young Kasimir Sigismund waits to formally become King of Poland, he recieves a letter from his cousin, King Janos Sigismund of Hungary and Bohemia. Janos sends young Kasimir his regards and sympathies, noting with suprising candor that he knows what its like to lose a parent at a young age, and telling his cousin to trust in God to see him through his present difficulties. Janos points to his own example, where, throughout all his difficulties, the Lord has sheltered him, nourished him, and after laying him low, raised him higher than he was before.
If all that sounds a mite self-congratualatory--well, it is, but one has to forgive the wearer of the Crowns of St. Stephen and St. Wenseclaus. Life is treating him very well--he is setting out from Bohemia with an army at his back, its members volunteers from all over Europe--including the Earl of Surrey, the Viscount Hereford, and Christopher Hatton. The reports from the war are excellent--the ailing Alba, with a diminishing army, many of whom haven't been paid yet, has wound up staying in Presburg, aside from a few desultary raids on Zapolya Hungary. Istvan Bathory has besieged Raab, albeit inconclusively, and challenged the Duke of Alba to a duel, in an effort to settle this man to man[64]. (What can one say? The Palatine of Transylvania is a Magyar's Magyar.) His young son has been recognized as heir to the Hungarian throne by the Diet. And there's MORE good news.
The Turks, in a burst of unexpected generosity, are suggesting they will restore a good portion of their occupied Hungarian lands to Janos' direct rule. While the King of Hungary sees the hand of God in this, he might be better looking at the hand of the Turkish rebels. Sokullu Mustafa Pasha needs men to fight them, and the Hungarian garrisons are filled with plenty of those who are presently doing nothing of value now that the borders just shifted. Of course, the exact details remain... well, inexact, and the Turks will expect Janos to act like a good little vassal, but they're mentioning Buda a lot. That's a good thing.
And Margaret's pregnant again! Good times all around for the Zapolyas, who are proving to be the little Magyar family that could.
--Henri, Duke of Guise arrives back in France from his time fighting in the Second Schmalkaldic War full of bold tales and a great deal of swagger, even by his standards--which is saying something. This makes the quite popular young Duke even more popular in court circles, as people draw close to enjoy Henri de Guise's good looks, tall form, and utter manliness. And one young girl enjoys all this more than most--the precocious young Marguerite de Valois, Royal Princess. The almost-thirteen year old Princess is naturally swooning at the almost-sixteen year-old bravo, and soon the pair are entangled in a youthful courtship of long walks and horse rides over the countryside that gets everyone around them quite nervous at how... precocious the pair are[65]. Especially Henri II, who finds that what with the now highly suspect Cardinal de Lorraine as an uncle, he most assuredly does not want the young duke for a son-in-law, no matter how much he likes the boy.
Indeed, the King is increasingly unnerved by the Duke of Guise's charm, courage, and abilities, since they are drawing a rather unpleasant contrast to the young boy he had the Estates General change the succession laws for, the Dauphin Francois (or as he frequently called by historians to distinguish him from his late older brother, Francois-Hercule). As opposed to the Duke (and his own disinherited elder brother) the Dauphin is short, ugly--the last bit made worse by a nasty, scarring case of childhood smallpox--and rather bad-tempered, something that his recent promotion to heir has not helped. As the nation has come to know the heir better, many are starting to feel a certain dread at the prospect of his reign. And not just Huguenots and Catholic evangelicals, but good conservative Catholics. Henri is of course, trying to correct these faults but doing a very poor job of it--indeed, lengthy talks with young Francois-Hercule about the nature and duties of kingship as his father understands it seem to make him worse, not better. A smarter man might decide a long bit of soul-searching is in order--a fundamentally stupid man gets mad at the universe, and starts looking askance at any young men who show signs of outshining his little heir. Which is a pretty broad category that includes Henri Bourbon of Navarre, the disinherited Henri of Orleans, and of course, Henri de Guise. And that's just sticking with the Henris.
And so, as Henri de Guise pays court to the Princess Marguerite oblivious, forces around him in the court watch with concern. Especially, his stepfather, Jacques de Savoie, who does not want he and his wife to mourn the son as they mourned for his father. And so, the Duke of Nemours sends letters to the boy's eldest uncle and his own dear friend, the Cardinal de Lorraine, who quickly takes a break from his parochial duties in Reims to indulge in a bit of dynastic plotting. As soon as the Cardinal is done Jacques and his wife Anne d'Este arrange a little meeting with the young Duke of Guise, and explain the situation to him.
The result is at the next court, Henri de Guise begs the King for permission to marry--his distant cousin, Renee d'Anjou. And who is Renee d'Anjou, you ask, along with most of the French court? Well, Renee is the young heiress to the Marquessate of Mezieres (a well-to-do little piece of feudal property), like the Lorraines a descendent of the old Anjous[66], albeit from an illegitimate line, and a young woman of good birth who is fairly remote from all this skullduggery at court. The King--who is overjoyed to see this threat to his young daughter's virtue and the dangerous ambition of the Duke of Guise thus neutralized--not only accepts, he agrees to pay the dowry[67] and the Duke de Guise and Renee d'Anjou are engaged to marry in two years, when the Duke reaches his age of majority, without having ever met each other.[68]
Marguerite is... less overjoyed at all this, and indeed, sees herself as bitterly betrayed. And this feeling only grows when her father reveals HER new betrothal. Marguerite is to marry Francois de Bourbon, Dauphin of Auvergne[69], son of Louis, Duke of Montpensier, the man who presently stands either second or third in the line of succession (depending on one's opinion of the effect of Cardinal de Bourbon's vows in the matter) thanks to the new "Protestants Need Not Apply" proviso. Henri II wants the throne to stay in his line of descent, and is taking steps to ensure that it does even if the worst should happen, while quietly assuring people that, yes, he stands by the new rules.
Unfortunately for young Marguerite, her husband-to-be is a plain, charmless man very much in the stamp of his monumentally unpleasant father. Thus, Marguerite's displeasure multiplies. And as it becomes clear that her father isn't going to budge on this, she decides that if she's going to be miserable, someone else has got to be more miserable. Her chosen victim--her little sister Victoria. And so, Princess Margot informs the King about Victoria's secret collection of Huguenot literature. Henri II responds about as well as can be expected, and once he's finished shouting, has the young Princess shipped off to a nunnery, largely out of the conviction that what failed last time will assuredly succeed this time. Because Henri Valois wants it to work, damn it.
Of course, Henri II being... well, Henri II, he follows this strong indication of how much he dislikes Huguenots with a strong indication of how perfectly willing he is to support Protestantism by allowing the marriage of Heidelberg Compact member William IV of Hesse-Cassel to Francoise d'Orleans, a Huguenot cousin to the Duke of Longueville[70]. William, eldest son of the late Philip of Hesse, arrived with Henri de Guise in hopes of getting more French support for the Compact on the theory of "You hate the Hapsburgs; we hate the Hapsburgs--You hate the Wettins; we REALLY hate the Wettins". This marriage is the greatest indication that the Landgrave is winning the King over to his way of thinking--something that leaves the French ultraCatholics, who were feeling all good about sewing up the succession with the Francois-Marguerite betrothal, feeling politically betrayed, once again. It's yet another example of the King of France's knack for awkward policy pivots that manage to alienate everyone and satisfy no one, all part of setting the stage for the lengthy, realm-consuming civil war that will follow Henri's death.
But that's quite a ways a way yet.
Turning back to the marriage itself--that followed a whirlwind courtship that began when the Landgrave saw young Francoise at a Protestant religious service, and was instantly smitten[71]. The young (she's seventeen) French noblewoman was won over by William's charm, status, and learning--the Landgrave is an acomplished scholar with a keen interest in astronomy who even corresponds with the pair many astronomers call the "Danish madmen"--young John Christian of Haderslav and Tyche Brahe. The pair will have a fairly happy marriage[72], despite the various misfortunes that will be visited upon their respective friends and family.
But once again, we're getting ahead of ourselves.
And turning back to the young Duke of Guise, young Henri is... somewhat upset about having to pass on an opportunity for marriage to an attractive young French princess. Still, his family has gotten its point across, with Cardinal de Lorraine stressing that Renee d'Anjou is a sweet, nice, good-looking girl, who will not get Henri involved in the dizzying intrigues that are already beginning to surround young Marguirete. The Duke isn't... quite convinced this is a worthy trade-off, but he'll swallow his doubts, and go along with things. Which, it must be admitted, is not the most promising of starts for a marriage, so let's all take a moment to feel sorry for young Renee, who really is just as sweet and nice and sheltered as the Cardinal says she is.
Needless to say, all of these things are going to be quite important in the future.
--The royal trip to York is surprised by the Archbishop of York, John Hooper, who's organized a large number of his parishoners to meet the King, the Queen, and their guests, singing a version of the first Psalm, by Thomas Sternhold[73]. The Archbishop then presents the king with a petition from his fellows, wherein they ask Henry to call a new convocation of the Church, so that 'these grave matters of faith may be settled'. Henry accepts the petition, and essentially tells the Archbishop that he'll get around to it. Some of it is being surrounded by thousands of Country Puritans singing about the fate of the way of the wicked--and some of it is just being in the presence of John Hooper, Archbishop of York, the man who has more or less made all those thousands.
When he was sent up North decades ago, the general thought among his more moderate colleauges was that the North and the Puritan would simply batter into each other until they both collapsed exhausted. They did not reckon on the effect of a man who gives most of his salary to the Crown and the poor[74], who has had the archbishopric palaces converted into shelters for the poor, and who goes about on a horse, because he considers a carriage to be vanity. (And don't get him started about robes and vestments.) That's the sort of man who gets people thinking that this whole "Reformed Church" idea might just be... well, the right way to go. And Hooper has worked tirelessly to make his archdiocese a model for the new Anglican Church, filled with dedicated prelates from its bishoprics to its local livings.
Needless to say Henry's feelings on this are... complex. While the King of England doesn't generally like being told what to do, he isn't completely immune to religious feeling, and the fact is he has been rather hoping for someone to throw him a line on the whole Dispute of the Hymnals. This might be a disquieting display of the spiritual power of the Archbishop of York, and reminder that even if they've switched faiths, those Northerners are still a bothersome sort--but it's also a way out. The Anglican Church shall have a Convocation, and all these meddlesome disputes over the faith will be settled in an official fashion.
While Henry and Mary are both a little worried that their guests might take this the wrong way, this proves to be unfounded--Archbishop Hooper keeps things well under control, and so the whole thing winds up being charming. Especially for William of Bavaria, who for all his True Lutheranism, loves austerity and hardship, and thus will possess a lifelong tendency to find Reformed Church members... neat. Both he and his brother Ferdinand will write a great deal of their admiration of the Archbishop--and his most notable protege, Bishop Fox--with William going so far as to ask the English divines to remember him in their prayers. On the whole, the entire affair has been triumph for English Puritanism, both at home, and abroad. It remains to be seen if the success will follow them into the Convocation, but they are fairly certain it will.
--Ercole d'Este arrives in Rome, after first making a round of his ducal holdings which he hasn't seen in years, and has never seen as duke. He allows his wife Jeromina and son--the heroically named Rinaldo--to settle in at Ferrara, a city which he notes seems dearer to him after the long absence, before continuing on his way to Rome. This takes quite awhile--the Papal States are... unruly at the best of times, with feuds, banditry and rebellious townships spotting the land. Accompanying Ercole is newly-minted court poet, Torquato Tasso, who is already writing pangyrics to the man he is proclaiming a modern addition to the Nine Worthies. Ercole arrives in Rome to celebration and great fanfare. After a feast and a party, his uncle the Pope names him Gonfalonier, which everybody expected, Captain-General of the Church, which suprises quite a few people, and Chief Rector of the Papal States, which suprises even Ercole. Then the Pope and his nephew have a long talk, accompanied by his secretary, who is, once again, his other nephew. Pius explains that he wants Ercole to bring order and stability to the Papal holdings--in prepration for a war. A war against a King who, as Pius tells it 'has insulted us, and our holy church, past all enduring.'
Ercole thinks he's up to it. Especially when he hears who the king is.
Oh, yes. Especially then.
--In Burgundy, Charles' preparations for the grand Christmas celebrations of the Order of the Golden Fleece are interrupted by the latest missive from his father. Charles has generally been scanning the increasingly fussy and frantic messages Philip sends him, but this one--which is surprisingly curt--has material in it that gets his attention. Further it is accompanied by a message from his wife, who Philip has had brought to El Escorial with the Infantes. Charles' response is... swift.
--SCENE FROM 'THE LITTLE PRINCE' (1967)--
CHARLES enters a room where a group of Spanish soldiers sit drinking and chatting merrily. The men stop as soon as he enters, and stand to attention. One bows respectfully.
MAN: Your Highness.
Charles shakes his head.
CHARLES: There is no need for such formality, Don Felix. For at the moment, I speak with you not as your prince, or even your superior, but simply as a comrade in arms. (Looks at the men.) You see--I have a favor to ask of you all...
Another man, bluff, hale and hearty, smiles and raises his glass to the Prince.
MAN 2: Come now, Prince. You know all you need to do is ask...
Charles smiles at them.
CHARLES: Thank you, Don Barnabas. Now then, I need you all to place me under arrest, and take me back to Spain. Under guard. So that I may be placed under custody of my father's minister of justice.
The men stare at him, completely startled.
CHARLES: Well? You said all I had to do is ask...
Felix coughs.
FELIX: It is... a rather odd request...
Charles blinks, then nods, as if just coming to understand.
CHARLES: Ah. Yes. I see. Very true. An explanation is in order. (He coughs.) My father, the King of Spain, has ordered me removed from my post as governor, to return to Spain, so that I may answer for my actions here. Now, I cannot, as a man of honor abandon my loyal people of Burgundy in this manner, especially as they would almost certainly face a bloody reprisal. But you are also my people--indeed, you are my Spanish comrades, who have followed me, and been loyal to me, even against the wicked ambitions of Captain Vargas. I cannot lead you into peril without your knowledge, nor can I ask you to act against my father's orders, even if I know those orders have been made at the prompting of wicked men, who wish me ill, and care not the good I have done the Spanish thrones--indeed, men who wish to make sure that I never sit upon those great seats. That is why, men, I must ask you to arrest me, and take me back to Spain.
The men continue to stare, though they've moved from startled to sympathetic.
CHARLES. Come now! Don't you see? Don't you understand what your lives will be like if you do not do this? My father and those around him will NEVER forgive you--they will hound you, and work against you, as they hound and work against me! This--this is the only way! (He clasps his wrists together.) C-come now! B-b-bind me! Ar-ar-arrest me! D-d-do as I ask!
The men all look at each other, nervous--and then Barnabas steps forward, and walks up to the Prince. He then falls to his knees before him.
BARNABAS: Sir--we... we are not JUDASES!
He grabs Charles' right hand and emotively kisses it, then turns to his fellows as he stands.
BARNABAS: For the Prince!
Felix nods, steps forward, and like Barnabas, kneels, kisses Charles' hand, and then rises, and draws his sword.
FELIX: For the Prince!
The other men draw their swords.
MEN: For the Prince!
Charles sniffs, and wipes a tear from his eye, a small smile on his face.
CHARLES: I... Merci. (gulps) Merci.
--At the great Christmas celebration of the Order of the Golden Fleece, wherein meet the great and good of Burgundy, including the Stadtholders, Charles reveals his father's order of dismissal, that Philip has essentially arrested his wife and children, and that Philip has also seized two Burgundian noblemen, Count Berghen and Montigny, who were acting as emissaries of the States General, and had the pair killed, secretly in prison[75]. (This last fact has been revealed to Charles by his wife, through a bit of code the pair had worked out earlier.) The death of these two falls like a thunderbolt upon the company--especially Horne, who is Montigny's elder brother--showing them EXACTLY what sort of government will be put in place if Charles were to go. Charles announces bluntly that now, more than ever, his cause is now their cause. "And I swear it, good gentlemen, I shall not rest until peace, justice and good government is restored not only to these Seventeen Provinces, but to the Spanish realms of my birth, and until the wicked and bad councilors that have lead the realm to this disaster and wickedness have been flogged from the high positions they now occupy, so help me Almighty God."
By all accounts, the speech goes over rather well.
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[1] I feel obligated to note that the writer is in error here--snaphances and snap-locks are, by most reckonings, similar but distinct firing mechanisms. (Though some do use the terms interchangeably.)
[2] This is happening a year earlier than the Jiajing Emperor's death IOTL--however, with his habits, Zhu Houcong was largely courting death for most of his final years. While this may not quite be how he died IOTL, it's probably closer than you might think.
[3] This occurred IOTL. Yes, really.
[4] The Rites Controversy began when the young Zhu Houcong insisted that, rather than be posthumously "adopted" by a previous emperor, his father would be posthumously "crowned", something that flew in defiance of custom and precedent. It sounds like a minor issue, and to begin with it was, but as the Emperor's insistence continued, it gradually developed into a running sore for the bureaucracy, as well as a sort of diplomatic war between the Emperor's supporters and those bureaucrats more loyal to the abstract idea of the state.
[5] Zhu Houcong's ill treatment of Zhu Zaihou (his eventual successor) is all OTL.
[6] IOTL, the Prince of Jin died in 1565, two years prior to his father, thus quelling fears that the Emperor would defy custom and leave him the throne. It should be noted that even then there were fears that the Jiajong Emperor would still somehow avoid naming Zhu Zaihou his successor, despite his being the man's only living son by that point.
[7]Editing of the Emperor's final edict into an official version was part of the Imperial process, and frequently involved leaving out sentiments unbecoming to the Son of Heaven. Needless to say, what they're proposing here is going quite a bit further than that, and many are nervous about it.
[8]Zhu Zaihou's speech impediment is OTL.
[9] 'Longqing' means "Great celebration" and was the era name of Zhu Zaihou's rule IOTL; 'Chongzhen' means "honorable and auspicious" and was the era name of his descendent Zhu Youjian, the 16th, and by most countings, last Ming Emperor. Both era names are indicative of reforming impulses.
[10] These were all real problems--including the eunuch gangs in Beijing, which happened to be a longstanding one for the Empire. Simply put, poor parents would travel to Beijing with their extraneous sons, put them to the knife, so to speak, and then try to get them accepted into the Imperial household. As the demand was always outstripped by the supply, the discarded extras wound up hanging around Beijing, growing into angry rootless young men with absolutely nothing to lose.
[11] This likewise happened IOTL--the 16th century was as interesting for China as it was for Europe.
[12] He died around this time IOTL.
[13] Hatton came to Elizabeth's attention for the same reason.
She had rather odd standards as to what made a valuable courtier at times.
[14] Thomas Howard's marriage habits were the same IOTL, save for being concentrated among wealthy English gentry.
[15] Believe it or not, this would be standard Transylvanian operating procedure for the time--a constant double-game against Austrian and Turkish interests. It made for interesting politics.
[16] Such as happened in the Thirty Years War IOTL, where despite the Electoral Palatinate getting more or less completely crushed fairly early in the fight, their cause was championed by a variety of independent warlords and in time foreign kings, which lead to ever more complications.
[17] Augustus' feelings were similar IOTL, where despite disliking Calvinists with a passion, he tried very hard to keep Germany's Protestants acting as a more or less common front. After, you know, helping to take down IOTL John Frederick II. And playing the various other branches of the family against each other like a fine violin. What can you say? The man had a gift.
[18] She died around this time IOTL, due, it is believed, to a combination of age and gold intoxication. She used to drink it to "preserve her youth".
[19] Poor Tahmasp is dying a decade earlier ITTL--his OTL death was in 1576. And was quite peaceful. At least--for him.
[20] Better known to Western history as Hemu, the Hindu emperor who perished in 1556 fighting Akbar IOTL. He really did start his career as an employee of Islam Shah Suri, by the way. The Suris had interesting hiring practices.
[21] This was the case as well, though Mohammad did eventually wind up Shah, for reasons that will be explained shortly.
[22] Ismail likewise succeeded his father IOTL, though the fighting was a bit more violent. And he'd been held in prison for TWENTY years by that point.
[23] And this is why Mohammed wound up as Shah despite being barred from it in most circumstances--Ismail II was all kinds of crazy and engaged in constant brutal purgings of his relatives that left Mohammed the last man standing when his brother's short reign was over.
[24] It should be noted that IOTL after at first honoring Ibrahim Mirza, Ismail had him brutally killed in another one of his purges.
[25] Obviously, Safavid rule was far from short IOTL, covering a little over two centuries.
[26] This was pretty much what the Knights of Malta did with their time IOTL. One must admit 'pirate for Jesus' is a pretty neat job description.
[27] Sigismund--or rather his OTL counterpart--died around this time IOTL--Joachim II in contrast, lived another five years after this. It's been a quietly hard war for him.
[28] Aviles was involved in the exploration of Florida for similar reasons IOTL, and of course, is most famous as the founder of St. Augustine, Florida.
[29] René Goulaine de Laudonnière was likewise involved in France's exploration of Florida around this time IOTL. It did not end well for him.
[30] Aviles really was pushing Florida settlement for exactly these reasons, which shows a truly epic ability at self-delusion.
[31] This would be the original Spanish name for the Mississippi River, though it must be added that Spain's grip on the geography of the New World was... frequently questionable indeed, and it appears to have been applied to several rivers in the mistaken belief that they were all ONE river.
[32] Zuniga died around two years earlier in--by most reports--a similar incident IOTL.
[33] IOTL, Aguirre took part in the second expedition and under his influence it wound up having a very different fate then simply vanishing in the jungle without a trace.
A very different, completely insane fate.
[34] Peralta arrived in the New World around this time IOTL. And became immediately entangled in... something rather fascinating, that is being delayed here thanks to slight changes in circumstances.
[35] Oddly enough foreign nobles used England for this purpose at times IOTL during this period.
[36] While it would be rather exhausting to explain who married who originally, I will note that Cecilia is wedding the man her little sister Elizabeth married IOTL.
[37] Ferdinand left a pair of interesting journals during a pair of diplomatic journeys to Italy.
[38] This really was a constant problem for book-collectors IOTL around this period--Dee actually lost most of his painstakingly assembled library during his famed trip to Europe thanks to looters.
[39] Cecilia behaved similarly during her OTL marriage, which also took place in England.
[40] Reichart and Juliana married IOTL, though at a slightly later date.
[41] This nickname was the property of OTL's Charles Emmanuel of Savoy.
[42] Athanasius retired from his post for about these reasons IOTL. This probably why, as opposed to his predecessor, and his two successors, he is not a saint of the Russian Church.
[43] Anna became Ivan's fourth wife under similar circumstance IOTL.
[44] This is what happened IOTL. For those imagining those Orthodox divines were disappointed, give yourself a prize.
[45] Ivan really did send a reply to Kurbski IOTL, who really did send a reply back.
[46] Ivan was SLIGHTLY more lenient IOTL--Vladimir's sons by his first marriage were apparently spared, and even wound up with gifts of land when it was all over, as Ivan had one of his typical meaningless crises of conscience. Meaningless, because the boys vanish mysteriously from the record after another round of purges later on.
[47] These were Ivan's orders and Vladimir's wife's argument for accepting them IOTL.
[48] Germain wound up facing a similar fate IOTL, after a similarly brief term as Metropolitan of Moscow.
[49] Filipp was this much trouble for Ivan IOTL as well.
[50] Isenburg performed similar sackings during the Cologne War IOTL. Of course, he was a Catholic fighting for Catholics in those, but Salentin's faith really seems to have been more about sticking with the winning side than anything else.
[51] This is surprisingly close to Brandrok's history IOTL. He seems to just have been one of history's minor troublemakers.
[52] IOTL and ITTL, Catholics did something similar after briefly retaking control of the city from Calvin earlier--this group is simply following the example of their predecessors.
[53] This is close to what happened when Alexandru reclaimed his throne IOTL. A popular legend states that the voivode invited the boyars to a big dinner, where he swore he'd show them he'd forgiven them--and then had the entire lot slaughtered.
[54] This really did happen to some of these people. Sailing the North Sea isn't fun.
[55] Francis and Mary wed a bit later IOTL, in what would be his first marriage.
[56] Alfonso--or his OTL counterpart--was made a cardinal by his uncle, as Paul IV was a rather horrible nepotist. He seems to have been one of the more pleasant of Paul's cardinal-nephews--he was the one to serve the least time in prison after Paul IV's death.
[57] Interestingly enough OTL Alfonso perished of after a nasty bout of fever.
[58] IOTL, Paolo's claim to fame is (probably) killing his wife in a rather colorful fashion.
[59] This is more or less the story IOTL, though poor Hai Rui wound up spending even more time getting tortured in prison, thanks to the Jiajing Emperor's living longer. As a matter of interest, a play and series of articles on the man wound up kicking off the Cultural Revolution when Mao suddenly realized that he was probably intended as the Jiajing Emperor, not Hai Rui.
[60] He did similar actions against Japanese pirates IOTL, and was promoted to serving at the Great Wall for his efforts.
[61] These apparently harmless titles indicate that Ma Qiu is de facto head eunuch and runs the eunuch secret police in Beijing. I must also add that Ma Qiu is my own creation, but that there were a lot of men like him in the Empire.
[62] Zhang Juzheng wound up Grand Secretary IOTL as well, though for Zhu Zaihou's son, being something of the man behind the man during Zaihou's reign.
[63] This is of course, six years earlier than OTL, though at least he's left legitimate children.
[64] Istvan did something similar when he was King of Poland IOTL, challenging Ivan the Terrible to a duel.
This is one reason why Istvan Batory needs to be in more timelines.
[65] The pair were involved in something similar at a somewhat later date IOTL. One might suspect that the somewhat more tenuous state of the French succession at this time has, shall we say, awoken Guise's predatory instincts.
[66] The Guises and Lorraines were quite proud of their Anjou blood--it was where their claims to the crowns of Sicily and Naples came from, among other things--and used the Cross of Anjou as a symbol with such frequency that it wound up known as--the Cross of Lorraine.
[67] The French throne paid off the dowry of Henri's wife IOTL as well--likely for similar reasons.
[68] Oddly enough, the great ground-breaking French novelist Madame de La Lafayette romantically linked Henri de Guise and--well, not Renee d'Anjou but a close duplicate in her novella 'The Princess of Montpensier'.
[69] IOTL husband of... Renee d'Anjou. The title Dauphin of Auvergne is technically an honorific, as the actual holder would be his father.
[70] Second wife of the Prince of Conde IOTL.
[71] William's marriage was made in similar circumstance IOTL--he saw his wife-to-be while negotiating the marriage of their respective siblings, and nature took its course.
[72] William's OTL marriage was similarly happy. He seems to have been a very nice guy, as Renaissance Princes go.
[73] Writer of an early--and quite popular--psalter IOTL as well.
[74] Hooper did similar things with his bishop's salary IOTL.
[75] Philip had this done to the Burgundian emissaries IOTL. It was... a rather typical blunder in these circumstances.
