A Britain of Panthers and Lions: House of Oldenburg Britain

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Chapter 20: Sambhaji Father and Emperor​

Sambhaji knew that they had done well to win against the Mughal forces for the past three years, they’d kept the Mughals at bay, they’d pushed them out of the Ghats, kept them away from Satara and expanded their frontiers in the north to include Nashik. There was still much that needed to be done to keep their frontiers at the south secure, from the governor of the former Bijapur Sultanate from knocking on their door, though Sambhaji was convinced that they could achieve some form of security there. He shifted slightly in his seat and looked at the gathered assembly, his brother Rajaram, his best general Mohite, his wife and his sister by marriage were present as was Parshuram Pant Pratinidhi his chief finance minister.

Sambhaji looked down at the notes he had made then said. “We are facing an interesting time. The English have approached and spoken of an alliance between their forces and ours against the Mughals. They want some concessions when it comes to the trading of spices, and in return they shall provide us with guns and cannons to handle the sturdier fortresses that the Mughals have. Mohite what would your impression be?” Sambhaji saw his brother Rajaram frown at this and knew his brother was hankering for the military role that Mohite had but Sambhaji was cautious about that.

“Sire, I would advise caution. The English are not people who know much about our ways or the politics of the realms within which they wish to operate. They are trying to outdo the French and the Portuguese who sit to our south and east in terms of their influence. We can get cheaper and more effective weapons from the French if we so desired.” Mohite replied.

Sambhaji considered this and then asked. “Do you believe therefore that the English are simply trying to garner more by giving something we need right now, only to demand a higher price when the time comes for payment?”

“Yes, Sire. It would suit their purposes and ensure that we are reliant on them should the Mughals develop the cannons that our spies report they are.” Mohite replied.

Rajaram spoke then. “Sire, I disagree. I think that the English are sincere, or as sincere as can be. The Mughals have the weapons they need to destroy our own arsenal at the flick of a wrist. We would be foolish not to consider getting the upper hand now whilst we still can. After all, the English have the weapons now and we have the funds available, why not make the purchase?”

Mohite replied. “Because, my Prince, it would be dangerous to make an investment in something when our own smiths could make it at half the cost.”

“You did not say that our smiths could do it.” Rajaram said, his fury growing.

Sambhaji raised his hand and said. “Enough, I shall consider this proposal and reach a decision in due time. Parshuram, you have assessed the accounts, what is your verdict?”

Parshuram was a man of middling height but great intelligence, named after an ancient scholar from the epics. “Sire, I believe that we would be better served developing the weapons ourselves. As General Mohite has said we have the capability and it would make us much more self-sufficient. Indeed, the reports I have read suggest that the Mughals are facing difficulty with the Bengalis.”

Sambhaji laughed. “Of course they are, the Nawab never did learn when to keep his mouth shut, and Aurungzeb never was the sort of person to let something such as that go.” He’d learned of the man’s failed invasion of the Ahom Kingdom and delighted in it. “Now, what progress have you made in regards to the marriage proposals?” If they were to truly overthrow the Mughal yoke they needed more allies, and marriage was the best solution for that.

Parshuram bowed his head for a moment then replied. “Sire, I have had messages from the Hada and they have agreed that a marriage is most beneficial. They wish for an arrangement between the Hada Princess Krishna Kumari and Crown Prince Shahu.”

Sambhaji saw his brother tense and he hid a smile, he knew that such a marriage would bring the might of the Hada clan to their side, meaning that the other Rajputs would soon follow. “Inform the Hada that I consent to this marriage agreement.” Parshuram bowed his head and made a note of it.

Rajaram spoke then. “Sire, when will we next be heading out to fight the Mughals?” Sambhaji knew his brother wanted to prove himself more on the field than the court chamber, and so he kept his tone patient.

“We shall move forward with the planned taking of Nashik when we have enough support from other states to ensure we shall not be left on our own. We shall cut the Mughals off from potential support through the alliance system I have planned. My son to Hada’s Princess, so on and so forth.” Sambhaji said not mentioning that he intended to make Rajaram’s son a Brahmin as soon as possible, and that his daughters would be marrying into the other Rajput dynasties and not Rajaram’s children as he had thought. His brother nodded in acceptance and Sambhaji dismissed the meeting. His wife remained behind.

“You know he and his wife will be planning to do something should this feint not work.” His wife said.

“I know. I intend on not giving them a reason to act.” He replied.

 

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Chapter 21: Louis The Aggressor​

This war was supposed to have been finished by now. Louis had thought that all it would take was one or two quick battles, take two or three crucial towns and then all would be well. He had misjudged things, and now it seemed as though the war would go on, backwards and forwards without an end in sight. Louis was not foolish, proud yes, but not foolish, he knew France could keep fighting indefinitely they needed an end to this fighting and soon. A knockout blow that would keep the forces allied against him down on their knees. He had thought Trarbach could have provided that but he’d been wrong.

Louis stared at the map before him, his mind racing. “Report from the east?” He wanted to know how his son was doing, the Dauphin had returned briefly and had impregnated his wife, the woman had delivered a stillborn girl, but was still alive.

Lovouis replied. “Sire, Philipsburg is ours, Mainz has returned to our possession and Mannheim remains firmly within our grasp as does Coblenz. The forces of the Elector of Bavaria are wavering as they face the Emperor’s indecision.”

“Indecision?” Louis asked, he had not thought the Emperor capable of indecision, so far the man had shown himself to be a worthy opponent. Unlike William of Orange.

“Sire, it appears that the Ottomans are pushing their forces toward Belgrade as well as into Croatia proper. The Emperor does not have enough funds to keep two fronts of a war going on, or rather two fronts for two wars going. He, I believe is trying to decide whether the western front, that Bavaria is commanding is worthwhile or not.” Lovouis replied.

Louis perked up at that, he knew how that would look to the Princes of the Empire. Leopold would want the Turks gone from his back door but the Princes would want him and the rest of the French presence gone from the Rhine. Excellent. “How much more of a push would we need to get Leopold to focus on the Eastern front?” He asked

Lovouis looked down at the map and then said. “Sire, I believe marching on Bonn and ensuring that it remains firmly within our sphere of influence would do it. Either that, or marching further into the Empire and threatening Frankfurt itself, then the Emperor might consider looking elsewhere. Defeat Bavaria and the Emperor would need to rely on William of Orange or sending troops from Serbia that he cannot afford to do.”

Louis considered the map, the Dauphin, his son had seen action three or four times now, and each time the reports had come back positive. Perhaps his son was not as foolish as Louis had initially feared, there was also the fact that his son had left three sons behind in Versailles also. Yet something about sending his son directly out of the safety of Philipsburg did not sit well with him. “Send word to Luxembourg, tell him to take Bonn. And send word to our brother of Orleans and tell him Frankfurt is his.” He knew Philippe would delight in such a thing.

Lovouis made a note of that and handed it to the messengers, they would depart now. “There is the issue of the Spanish Low Countries, Sire. William of Orange has begun courting foreign courts for support, mainly the Danish and the Swedish. I believe he has even contended a marriage between himself and Sophia Hedwig of Denmark.”

“Would the Danish actively join in the fighting?” Louis asked.

“I am not sure Sire. I know that the Danish and the new Duke of Oldenburg are on favourable terms, and that the Elector of Hanover and his allies are marching to aid the Elector of Bavaria. They might well consider getting the support of Oldenburg and the Danish King.” Lovouis replied.

Louis mulled this over, he turned to Seignelay and asked. “The fleet is ready for engagement?”

“Yes Sire.” Seignelay replied.

“Then give the order for it to embark, to raid and pillage the Spanish, the Dutch and the English ships as it sees fit. I want William of Orange distracted.” Louis commanded.

“Yes Sire.” Seignelay replied.

“And Lovouis send word to King Charles of Sweden, remind him of who it is that ensured the security of his possessions the last time he went to war.” Louis said. Lovouis nodded and made a note of that also. Louis then looked down at the map and said. “I want Vaubhan’s force to engage with whatever troops of the English are engaged in the southern Spanish Low Countries, to get the feeling of them, nothing more.”

“Yes Sire.” Lovouis said. “What of the Savoyards? Do you wish to engage with them with force or diplomacy?”

Louis considered this question, he wondered whether they would have enough money for a bribe, then decided against it. “Neither, simply a letter to remind the Savoyard that we know the best ways to ensure his life is difficult.” The number of spies they had within the Duchy was not something Louis found amusing, but it was very useful at times like this.

Lovouis nodded. “As you wish, Sire.”

 

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Chapter 22: The Queen Of Three Kingdoms​

Sometimes Anne wished that her father had had a son, that he had managed to produce a male heir to relieve her of this burden. Wearing the crown not just for one Kingdom but for three was a burden that she often felt overpowered her. Yet she powered through, she would not let it beat her and she would not show any weakness before her cabinet ministers all of whom were waiting for her to falter. She had her husband with her, George, sweet beloved George as Lord High Admiral was entitled to sit on the Cabinet and so he did. Their children were healthy, Mary and Anne Sophia were growing quickly, and becoming perfect ladies, whilst James, her heir was showing himself to be a smart little lad. Then there was the year old William, who walked, and babbled now and then. Anne cleared her throat.

“What word has there been from the war? Did Louis of France fall for the bait we had set?” It had been Anne’s idea to put forward to Louis’ spies that her brother by marriage William was looking for a marriage with the Danish Princess, something that would have terrified Louis what with the Duke of Oldenburg and the Danish King being on good terms now.

Sunderland smiled. “He did indeed, Your Majesty. King Louis ordered his men under the command of Marshal Vauban to march for the Spanish Low Countries, and the plan went as we hoped it would. After taking Malplaquet and Mons, Vauban marched toward Ath, where the allied host commanded by His Highness Prince William defeated him, forcing him to retreat. Malplaquet and Mons were retaken shortly afterwards.”

There was a round of delighted applause from the cabinet and Anne smiled happy that her plan had worked. “And what of His Highness, our brother by marriage? Has he said whether he does mean to go forth with the actual marriage or not?” Anne was not sure whether she approved of her brother by marriage marrying a Danish Princess, she did not want Denmark and the Dutch Republic so closely aligned. And she was also not sure whether she wanted her brother by marriage marrying again. Not after Mary’s death.

“Fortunately, Your Majesty, His Highness the Prince of Orange has decided to marry a closer relation than that of the Princess of Denmark. He has betrothed himself to Henriette Agnes, the daughter of the Prince of Anhalt-Dessau.” Sunderland responded looking at the notes he had made.

Anne nodded. “Very well. Now what other word has there been from the war?” She had given Churchill strict instructions not to engage in the war on the Rhine, that would extend their resources beyond what they had financially available at the moment. Defending the Spanish Low Countries was of most importance.

“King Louis had also ordered the French fleet to engage our and the Dutch fleets. There was a battle at Beachy Head, which resulted in a stalemate, all sides lost three ships of the line, and our fleet was able to retreat within good order, whilst the French fleet had to withdraw after a storm prevented proper pursuit.” Sunderland responded.

Anne looked down at the documents on the table, she wanted naval supremacy more than anything against the French, and whilst she did not have that right now, perhaps with time she would. Dartmouth had already said that ships would be built with the extra funds that Godolphin had found. She picked up a document that the Lord Chamberlain had given her that morning. “We see that Parliament has been discussing the issue of the farmers and the issue of the corn tax that was discussed during the reign of our father. What decisions have they reached?” The tax on corn had been a contentious issue, and her father had prevented it from truly being discussed through dissolving Parliament.

Shrewsbury spoke then as Secretary of State for the Northern Department. “Your Majesty, it is my understanding that the House has discussed the issue of the Corn Tax to the point where they are now agreeing on several amendments to the initial bill that His Majesty King James had proposed. These amendments including reducing the amount of tax paid, increasing the production of corn through adoption of new techniques and employing more peoples within the country to do the work.”

Anne thought over these proposals, they seemed like common sense, after all the tax on corn was quite high, too high in her opinion. “Very well, inform the House that we shall be most pleased to hear their final bill when it is done.”

Both Shrewsbury and the Lord Chamberlain made note of this. Shrewsbury then said. “Your Majesty there is also the issue of the Earl of Winchelsea and Nottingham.”

Anne bit back a sigh, Winchelsea had been a bane for some time, demanding more time to focus on some report he was producing, whilst also insisting he was worth a position in government. Anne had read through some of his work, and he was a great writer, perhaps he would do well as a member of her government, but where? “Where do you suggest he go?”

It was Godolphin who spoke up then. “Your Majesty, if it would please you, Winchelsea’s talents would be much appreciated in the Treasury, he has great skills with numbers and knows how to bring more money in less of a price.”

Anne considered this then said. “We shall wish to speak with him first before granting any favours.” Godolphin nodded, Anne decided perhaps seeing this man for herself couldn’t be a bad thing.

 

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Chapter 23: Mehmed the Confused​

For seven years, the war had been raging, seven years in which the pendulum had swung back and forth. The Siege of Vienna had failed, and then the Infidels had returned the fire. Mehmed was tired, his body was feeling the affects of the wine he had drunk over the course of the war. His stomach was swelling and his doctors all told him that if he kept up this way he would not manage to get up one day. He had executed the doctors who had said that and hired new ones. But by Allah was he tired, he wanted to rest desperately. Instead, here he was at a meeting of the council of war.

“Report.” He barked. His son Mustafa was on the council as well having reached the age of majority some time ago.

Mustafa Pasha, the deputy Vizier spoke. “Your Majesty, there has been word from the front. It appears that the army has suffered yet another defeat in the Serbian lands this time being drive out at Palanka, and with our commanders there suffering severe injuries, the men fled.”

Mehmed wanted to groan, he wanted to scream, he wanted to bang his head against the table. Instead he took a deep breath and spoke. “And what of the Janissaries?” They had sent their elite soldiers to Croatia to try and get a break through there. That had been Mustafa’s idea.

Pasha shook his head. “Nothing has been achieved, Sire. The corps have been defeated and pushed out every time they have tried to attack. The situation is worse with the fleet.”

Mehmed briefly closed his eyes then opened them again when he remembered that his sons were present. “What has happened?” He asked, the fleet he should have bolstered the funding for the fleet, ensuring that it got what it needed. His minister for the Navy Abdul had always said that, but then the man had been caught with a boy, and Mehmed had had to execute him. He cursed that decision now.

“We have suffered another defeat off the islands of the former Byzantine peninsula, Sire. And we have been drive from our attempt to take Cyprus.” Pasha responded.

Before Mehmed could say anything his son Mustafa spoke. “How has this been allowed to happen? Had we not ordered Colonel Ashraf to patrol the seas and keep up to date with everything that happened whether it be necessary or not?” Mehmed could see that his son was eager to have a scalp, Ashraf and he did not get along.

Ebubekir Pasha, the Minister for Navy that Mehmed had now spoke. “Your Highness, there has been some mixed reporting from the seas. It seems that Ashraf felt that the fleet of the Venetians was not enough to warrant sending anything after them. They were therefore able to garner the aid of the Neapolitan fleet and garner enough ships to sink our ships and take the island.”

“What of our forces on Thessaloniki? Have they been able to keep things calm there?” Mehmed asked. The Greeks were always desperate for something and with this round of defeats happening who knows what they might attempt.

Mustafa Pasha nodded in the affirmative. “Yes, Your Majesty. The Greeks are not causing any trouble as of right now. Indeed, they remain silent.”

His Mustafa spoke then. “Your Majesty, I beg of you, send me to the front. Give me command of a brigade and I shall ensure that the fortune of the war effort is reversed.”

Mehmed looked at his son, he worried that his son might use this to remove him, he had heard whispers in the palace, about something to do with a coup, but he did not want to do anything until he knew for sure. The ghosts of his brothers still haunted him. “Pasha, do we have enough men to spare?” Pasha might either say yes or no, either way he could shift the anger of his son onto the man.

Pasha read through the notes on the men and nodded. “We do sire, we have three brigades within the city doing nothing more than patrols. Though they are battle ready.”

“What brigades?” Mustafa asked.

Pasha looked down at the notes once more. “The fifteenth and the sixteenth, Your Highness.”

Abubaker Pasha and Subedar Pasha both men who Mehmed trusted, were the commanders of those brigades. “Very well, Mustafa you shall have your command. Listen to both men and ensure that you know what you are doing.” Mehmed said as the court scribe wrote down the orders and then gave it to Mustafa, his son bowed then left.

Once his son was gone, Mehmed looked at Mustafa Pasha and asked. “How much money do we have left?”

Pasha looked down at his notes again, Mehmed was starting to find that habit very annoying. The man looked up at him. “Sire, not enough to wage another campaign. We shall need the winter to regroup and then taxation will need to be raised. Which will spark riots in Bulgaria and Bosnia.”

Mehmed sighed. “Send word to our men in Vienna tell them we wish to seek a talk with the Emperor of the Infidels.” He could not bankrupt his realm for something as petty as this.

 

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Chapter 24: William the Married​

William knew that marriage was about producing heirs and continuing the dynasty, but he also knew that a marriage would not work unless the two people involved in it actually wanted it to work. His marriage with his cousin Mary had been varied, they’d been married for ten years at the time of her death, they’d been friends, but there’d been no spark there. That was not the case with his new wife Henriette Agnes was not a beauty but she was smart and had a solid wit. It made for interesting conversation. Indeed, as he sat down with her for their morning meal, William wanted to know what she was thinking.

“Tell me, dear wife, what is it you want from life?” This might have been far too forward a question, but it was one William always pondered.

His wife laughed. “I want to have a family, and I wish to be a good wife and ensure that the Low Countries remain prosperous. What do you want, my lord husband?”

William smiled, he appreciated the question. “I believe that the answer to that is simple. I wish for my line to continue and for the principality and the Low Countries to prosper.” His wife nodded, and they ate the rest of the meal in silence. Eventually, his aide came and informed him that his councillors were ready for him. He got up, kissed his wife’s hand and walked down the hall to the room where his advisors waited. They included Waldeck, Schomberg and his cousin Henry Casimir who looked incredibly sullen now that he was not going to be heir apparent for much longer. They rose as he entered. “Gentlemen.” William greeted them, please be seated. They sat down and he looked at the map before them. “What reports are there from the English?” Lord Churchill had been left to garrison the towns on the border with France with his men and the men from the Spanish Low Countries.

“Your Highness, it seems that things are steady in the Spanish Low Countries, taxation is being collected, the troops are being paid and are fed. There has been only one or two engagements with French forces during the winter, and those have ended with victories for us.” Waldeck said. “There was a concern voiced by Lord Churchill that the French might bring bigger cannon with them if they tried to invest Mons, but this has not come to be.”

William nodded, he had not expected anything different. “Louis of France will not send forces to attack a wall. He will focus more of his efforts on the Rhine, and that is where we too must focus now.” He knew from his sister by marriage that Churchill’s forces wouldn’t muster to the Rhine, but perhaps they could be used for other purposes.

“Bonn and Cologne are under threat, Your Highness, the forces of the Elector of Hanover and Brandenburg have not quite managed to force a French retreat. Perhaps we would be best served pushing our forces that way?” Waldeck suggested.

“I disagree,” Henry Casimir said. “I think we would be better served tempting the French to engage in the Spanish Low Countries. We cannot afford to get bogged down in the Rhine, let the Empire handle that. Our duty is to protect the Spanish Low Countries, let the French exhaust themselves.”

William wanted to point out the contradiction there, but decided against it, he was in no mood to argue with his cousin. Instead he simply said. “We can engage in a mix of the two activities. Send Churchill out to taunt the French, have him engage Vauban in some mixed activities then, whilst that is happening we can engage their host near Cologne and Bonn.”

“And what happens if that plan fails? Churchill has only eight thousand men by his own account and the English won’t send anymore unless they get definitive proof that something is worth fighting for.” Henry Casimir said. Irritatingly he was right, William mulled over this.

Waldeck spoke then. “Your Highness, perhaps it would be best to send some men out to aid the Lord Churchill, the French won’t stop their attacks on the Spanish Low Countries just because they suffered a few defeats. They will smell weakness and they will attack.”

That was sensible. Henry Casimir stuck his hand up, as if he were a child. “I shall command that host, with your permission, Your Highness.”

William could think of nothing worse. Henry Casimir was a good soldier but a terrible commander, he had shown that at Trarbach. “No, you shall go with Schomberg to aid our allies in removing the French presence in Cologne and Bonn. I shall command the host that aids the English.” Casimir bowed his head in acceptance though the way his mouth was shaped told William that he was not going to forget this.

Waldeck spoke once more. “This could be of great benefit to us, Your Highness. I have received word that the Ottoman Emperor has approached Emperor Leopold about a possible peace deal, which if signed could ensure the Emperor has more men to deal with the French.”

“Good news indeed.” William agreed, if indeed Leopold agreed to peace.

 

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Chapter 25: Leopold The Grandfather of Europe?​

Spring was beginning to settle in, and as it did so, the court had moved from Schönbrunn to Hofburg, and Leopold had carried his worries and his hopes with him. In the west, the war with France did not seem to be reaching an end and indeed the French seemed to be winning, something that could not remain acceptable to him if he wanted to bring peace. In the East, well in the east, the Turks seemed to be caving. And at home, things were fine, a discussion about a marriage between his eldest son and heir Joseph and either a Danish Princess or some other Princess of Europe was being discussed, though whether the Danish marriage would occur was something that Leopold was uncertain about.

He put those thoughts aside for the time being and looked around the room. There were faces around him that he had known since he had ascended the Imperial dignity. Some were men who had served his father toward the end of his reign, and others who he had appointed upon his own ascension. Leopold took a breath and said. “We have noticed that the flow of reports coming from both the west and the east seems to have levelled out, we wish to discuss the state of things within the Western front before moving onto other issues.”

Caraffa answered. “Sire, the situation on the Rhine is not as desperate as it was this time last year. Whilst the French still hold many of the towns that they took earlier in the war, the pressure being exerted on them by the Elector of Bavaria and the Elector of Hanover is such that soon enough they shall have to retreat from Mainz. The Prince of Orange has also agreed to send a host to aid in the relief of Bonn.”

Leopold nodded. “Good, the more pressure we can exert on the French the better. Have the English agreed to raid into French territory?” He knew that there was some sort of restraint that the English felt they needed to exercise whenever it came to these wars, they had only sent eight thousand men after all.

“Yes, Sire. They have agreed to deploy their forces into raiding the North Western part of France to draw Vauban and his men away.” Caraffa answered.

Leopold nodded, that was good news indeed. He turned to Metternich and asked. “And what terms have our friends of Constantinople offered us?” When he had been told that the Sultan wanted to discuss peace, he had been ecstatic that would mean he could consolidate power within the regions, end high taxation in his own domains and focus on knocking the French out.

Metternich was getting on in years, he was stooped where previously he had stood tall. “Sire, Sultan Mehmed states that in return for an ending to the war effort, he would pull Ottoman troops out Serbia, cease all efforts at regaining Transylvania and Croatia.”

Leopold wanted to laugh, these were excellent terms. “And in return?”

“In return, Sire, all he asks is that you cease with the efforts to command troops into Wallachia and that the remaining territories in the continent be recognised as his.” Metternich said.

These terms were good, almost too good. Leopold knew that the Sultan was desperate and perhaps was looking to string them along until his army regrouped, but Leopold knew that his own treasury was running low, that if he kept taxing the Hungarians and his own domains, that he would face revolt somewhere. “Very well, inform the Ottoman ambassador that we wish to discuss these terms with him and that we find them agreeable.” He would not sign anything just yet, but it would not hurt to hear it from the man’s mouth himself.

Metternich nodded, then raised another issue. “Sire, if you do not mind, there is the issue of Spain that must be discussed.”

Leopold bit back a sigh, Spain. The issue of their family policy kept rearing its ugly head. He knew that perhaps they should reconsider everything, he knew himself that the marriage of his granddaughter with his second son Charles was not something to be considered lightly. But if he wanted to keep Spain and its possessions within the family the marriage was needed. “What about Spain?”

“His Majesty, King Carlos is ailing.” Metternich said, then cleared his throat. “He has been ailing for some time, this is true, but there is more to this present illness. Letters from our ambassador in Madrid state that the King is now abed, that he has not said anything for three weeks, and that even the Queen has taken ill.”

It was clear what his advisor was saying and still he asked. “Do you mean to suggest that the man is dying?” The thought that the Spanish Habsburgs were going to be dead within the next few months was something that would have consequences far beyond a mere family tragedy.

“Yes, Sire. I believe he is dying. The whole court believes he is dying.” Metternich said. The man hesitated then went on. “I know, Sire that you had wished to see your son, His Royal Highness, Archduke Charles married to your granddaughter Her Highness Margaret Theresa, but in light of this news, and the birth of a son for your daughter, perhaps it would be better to start preparing for your daughter’s ascension to the Spanish throne?”

Leopold took a moment to think of this, he did not want for his daughter to ascend the throne, had he had a brother, or even a cousin, he would have married her to them instead of that grasping fool Bavaria, but he did not. “Would the other powers accept this?” He wondered.

“Sire, I believe that in order to prevent this current war continuing, they would do whatever it took to accept it.” Metternich said.

“Then begin searching out the other nations see what they say, and then prepare a treaty.” Leopold said, he had an idea of what land he could give his second son, even if the throne was not an option.

 

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Chapter 26: Shrewsbury the Pupil​

Charles was not someone who often left Whitehall, he knew from common sense that Her Majesty, the Queen was someone whose moods could vary depending on whether she was pregnant-which she was a lot- or if she was feuding with Sarah Churchill-she was a lot- or she had made up with Lady Churchill. Therefore it was important to keep an eye on her mood, and remain at court. However, he had been allowed rare day to leave court and travel to meet various people. Today, he had decided to visit his old friend and mentor the Earl of Devonshire who attended the House of Lords occasionally. The man was only fifty-one and yet held an aura of authority and respect.

“How are you keeping, William?” Charles asked.

His friend and mentor laughed. “Well enough, well enough.” The man picked up a piece of paper and then said. “The passage of the corn law is one that will ensure proper stability for our farmers and the produce of our crop for many years to go. It is a good thing that you showed the Queen the right way to go about that.”

Charles suspected he knew where this was going and so he said. “Her Majesty wanted the bill to be passed, she had supported it from the off, the Occasional Conformity Bill was one that she was never sure of.” Indeed, she had discussed her potential amendments and the way someone just like Devonshire could amend it if he so chose.

The man laughed. “You know that just means it will be proposed again at another date. Shaftesbury is quite convinced he get the House to see the sense in having the Presbyterians and Puritans on side. Otherwise they will keep moving to the colonies which will only bring tension.”

Charles wanted to voice his own thought on that matter, but instead said. “The Occasional Conformity bill might indeed be proposed against, but Shaftesbury does not have enough support within either house to make it stick, let alone get it within the Queen’s view. We both know that, William.” His mentor grimaced, and Charles pressed home. “It is better that the opposition realise this and focus on more realistic things, such as the Corn Law, or the Farming Implements Bill, or even the amendment to the Structured Silence Bill, those are things that Her Majesty might consider making into law, that would ensure there is some security.” He said it that way for he knew that Shaftesbury met with William Cavendish frequently.

Cavendish said nothing for a moment then replied. “All are noble causes, but they do not get to the heart of the matter, Charles. We both know that the scars of the reign of King James are still felt, that there is a genuine fear that Her Majesty is as Catholic as her father was, or her step-mother was, despite her Anglican upbringing. That is not something that will go away immediately.”

Charles wanted to sigh, and to laugh, this fear that the opposition had that the Queen was a Catholic was baseless. “William, we both know that during the reign of her father, Her Majesty was a vocal critic against his Catholic relief measures, that she opposed the Catholicisation of the army and the navy. That she fought considerably for your own appointment to the Committee of the Treasury. All of these things are facts. The fear that Shaftesbury and Essex have, and the fear you are encouraging is not rational. Why, why do you persist in it?”

The answer he got was not one he expected from someone such as Devonshire. “She continues to insist on a large military. If you have not told me, then my friends in Whitehall have told me. She sends letters to Churchill, and she demands more money set aside by Godolphin and his followers in the treasury for an expansion of the army. Do you know how threatening that is to everything that we have worked toward? If she has as big an army as she wants, then she can do what King Louis of France has done.”

For the first time Charles saw Devonshire in a new light, not as the great statesman focusing on growing England and the other kingdoms, but in a new, less respectful light. “You are jealous.” He said. “Jealous that she gave command to Churchill, and not to you. That is why you wish for the army to be reduced, for you think the officers will be loyal to Churchill, to Ormonde and to Mordaunt, and not to you.”

He had heard the stories about Devonshire’s conduct during the Anglo-Dutch wars, the disagreements the man had had with King Charles, and he had not believed them, now he saw the man and saw the stories also. He made to rise, but before he could, Devonshire spoke. “Churchill is a buffoon not fit to command the army he has. Her Majesty is making a mistake trusting him. He is opportunistic and would have sided with us had King James not died when he did. You know that, I know that and Mordaunt himself knows that. Churchill knows who he is. The Queen needs proper advisors around her for the military, not that fool.”

Charles rose then, and as he got to the doorway, he turned and said. “Then be a man, come to the House or to Whitehall and tell Her Majesty that. Do not fight against something that would benefit the Kingdom.” With that he walked out of the room, the hall and began his journey back to Whitehall, he had a lot of work to do.

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 27: Churchill​

The war had been going on of some three years now, and for most of that time John and his men, the men of England, Scotland and Ireland had been kept in the Spanish Low Countries. There had been frustration on his part and those of his commanders, for they had seen no action, and as such there was a feeling that they were doing nothing to justify their salaries. Now however, it seemed things were changing. Word was coming through that the French wanted the Spanish Low Countries and were determined to do whatever it took to bring them under their control.

John and his army were stationed in Mons, and the city was beginning to strain under the weight of men that they had, they needed to leave and fight and soon. He looked down at the map on the table before them and said. “The French are playing a very clever game here; they are circumventing natural protocol and trying to starve us out. Ormonde, what word do you have?”

The Duke of Ormonde was a man who John liked, he had a sensible brain and was someone who knew when to fight and when to retreat. “There are some ten thousand men under Vauban’s command, according to our scouts. They are stationed not at Malplaquet as we had first thought. Instead they are now at Condé having moved from Le Quesnoy to Denain and then to Valenciennes. It is my belief that they will be looking to follow the Meuse toward us.”

John looked at the map and nodded, that made sense, after all if he were the one commanding the French he’d want to either starve them out of their base, or force a confrontation within the city itself, where they could not be guaranteed safe passage. John looked at the list of inventory that they had. “We can leave the town, with a small garrison and make for Malplaquet then swing upwards and catch Vauban and the French unawares.” He looked down at the map once more and then said. “Though the moment we leave Mons, it is likely that they will know that we have left, and will instead move to take the town.”

Charles Mordaunt, Earl of Monmouth spoke then. “My lord, I think that we would be better served by putting it out that the town itself is low on supplies. That way we can convince Vauban that there is nothing worthwhile within the town. He will not want to take a town that is low on supplies without significant reasons for doing so. He will want to take more significant towns, perhaps Tournai, maybe even Leuze, we would be better served with moving toward Leuze ourselves.”

John glanced briefly at Mordaunt, he knew the man wanted his job, that the man did not know why John had been given the command, truth be told neither did John, but he was determined to make the most of it. He focused on the map. Ideally they could do with a few more men, to advance into France proper and distract Vauban long enough for them to solidify Mons itself. Yet they did not have more men, Parliament it seemed was reluctant to grant money for more men, unless there was a victory somewhere. He followed the line from Mons to Leuze, and shook his head. “No, Leuze is not the right choice. We must force Vauban into a confrontation.” That was the only way John could see the pressure letting up. “The governor of the Spanish Low Countries grows weary of having us here, we must push into France and soon. My lord of Monmouth you shall leave with the fourth and fifth regiments and serve as the bait.”

“Bait, my lord?” Monmouth asked sounding terrified.

“Yes.” Churchill replied, the Governor of the Spanish Netherlands was busy protecting the towns on the northern border, he was not focusing on the real battle. “You shall leave Mons and follow the Meuse, lay traps for Vauban, tempt him to come here, do not engage. When you have gotten sufficiently away from Mons turn toward Leuze and hold the town.”

Monmouth looked as though he wanted to protest, instead he swallowed and asked. “And where shall the rest of the army be, my lord?”

John grinned. “Why, we shall be preparing the town of Mons for a siege and a battle.” He knew that Parliament would only give the Queen more money for a much needed addition to the army if they won a battle showing they needed it. This would be their chance. Monmouth merely nodded. “You should get going, preparation will take time.” Monmouth got up and walked out. Churchill then turned to Ormonde and asked. “What word has there been from the Dutch?” their allies had proven to be quite slippery in most regards.

“They have sent their army under Henry Casimir to aid the German Princes of Hanover and Hesse-Kassel relieve Bonn and Cologne. Prince William is said to be approaching the Spanish Low Countries with an army. Perhaps he will convince Gastanaga to actually fight.” Ormonde replied.

Churchill laughed. “One can hope, Your Grace, one can hope.” He hoped they would win and that Parliament would finally see sense.

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 28: Louis The Worried​

Recently, Louis had begun wondering if his desire to secure his frontiers had been misguided. Lovouis had died a few months ago, and Louis’ doubts which had started festering around the turn of the year had continued to grow. Money was disappearing for this war, and the intake of money to pay for the war was slowing down. He knew that either he’d have to raise taxes, or go for broke somewhere, and that worried him more than he cared to admit.

“Report.” He demanded.

Lovouis’ son who he had named as his new Secretary of State for War replied. “Sire, there has been a troubling development on the Spanish Frontier.” For a brief moment Louis thought the boy meant in Catalonia, and then the boy continued. “There was a battle between the Marshal du Vauban and the English under Lord Churchill at Mons. Vauban was tricked and defeated, being forced to retreat. He was badly injured, and the artillery which he had taken with him was seized by the English.”

Louis waited for a moment, allowing this news to sink in. He had not thought that Vauban would be defeated, the man was too smart by half, but this, this seemed possible. “How many casualties, did we sustain?” He asked.

The boy looked down at his notes and replied. “Some three thousand, according to the Marshal’s estimates. The English sent a forward party that engaged as if they were more than their actual number, the Marshal felt he could engage them and then circle and take the town.”

So, he was arrogant. Louis thought to himself. That was not like the Marshal, but he supposed it was bound to happen sooner or later. “And what does the Marshal say of the English, did they follow him?” If the English had decided to follow the Marshal then they were in danger of having a full invasion on their hands. For if the English invaded, then the Dutch and Spanish would.

“The Marshal writes that he could not see them on his tail, but that they would be foolish not to.” The boy replied.

Louis nodded, that meant there would be an invasion sometime soon, an invasion that would definitely bring that fool William of Orange and his men with them. “Boufflers,” he said looking at the Marshal. “How many men do we have prepared to leave for the north east at a moment’s notice?” He tried to remain calm, but his nervousness was growing.

“Vendome’s Brigade, my own brigade and the brigade of Catinet, Sire.” Boufflers replied. “Vendome’s and mine own brigade are the more combat ready though.”

Louis suspected there was an element of competition there, but he did not care, competition was good. “Very well, we want your brigade and Vendome’s brigade to march north,” he looked at the boy and asked. “Where did Vauban say he was camped?”

“Denain, Sire.” The boy replied.

“Very well, take your brigade with Vendome and head to Denain, and fortify the town. Should the English, we want you to engage them in battle and finish them.” Louis said, knock the only host the English had in this war, and that was one less enemy he had to worry about. He turned his attention to another part of the map. “What of the Spanish, how are they doing?”

“Bellver, Rosas and Camprodon have all fallen before the Duke of Noailles, Sire.” The boy said. “He writes that he believes the Spanish will have to sign a peace treaty before long.”

“Good.” Louis said. “We shall wish to hear news of Barcelona’s fall before the year’s end.” He knew that was asking a lot, but he knew that Noailles could achieve it especially with the rate of decline within Spain.

Boufflers spoke then. “Sire, if I may?” Louis gestured for the man to continue. “With the threat of the English invading, and with the Duke of Savoy mobilising his forces, would it perhaps not be best to force the Spanish to sue for peace now, with the issuing of terms, including the succession, rather than trying to keep going?”

Louis looked at Boufflers, and then at Colbert, his Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, the man quickly took direction. “Sire, I believe that the taking of one or two more towns and the fear that Barcelona could fall would encourage King Carlos to move toward a peace, which would greatly free the men under Noailles and allow them to engage the Savoyards. Furthermore, the threat of Barcelona’s fall could therefore encourage him to settle the succession toward Monsieur Le Dauphin and his children.”

Louis nodded, that was his preferred course of action, if he could get a Pope who was favourable to him as well, perhaps he could ensure that the other claimant’s daughter was married to his grandson Philippe. He looked at the boy and said. “Inform the Duke of Noailles, that we wish for him to continue exerting pressure until Barcelona falls, or the King of Spain seeks peace.” The boy nodded.

Colbert spoke then. “Sire, there is also the issue of peace between the Ottomans and the Austrians. Sultan Mehmed believes he is under strain financially and cannot risk keeping the fighting going. However, my friends in Constantinople inform me that his son Prince Mustafa is more than willing to keep fighting for glory and pride.”

“Do we have the resources to ensure the man takes the throne?” Louis asked, it was important that the Emperor was kept fighting on two fronts, for Louis knew that if he joined with his full force of men that they were finished.

“Yes, Sire.” Colbert replied.

“Then ensure that it is done. And send an emissary to Savoy and ask if he is willing to discuss a marriage.” Louis stated.

Colbert smiled. “Of course, Your Most Christian Majesty.”

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 29: Mustafa the Young​

Mustafa was young, he knew he was young, but he had fought a battle against the Infidels and he knew war. He knew what it was to see people he had grown up with die before his very eyes. They had been pushed out of Serbia once more, but he knew, and what he knew made him angry. Mustafa had ridden as hard as he could for Constantinople once he had been told that his father was planning something that would ruin them completely. He had gotten the loyalty of the Janissaries stationed within the capital as well as bringing his own brigades back. And now, dressed in armour he entered his father’s rooms.

His father was sat waiting for him. “Mustafa.” His father said calmly, Mustafa felt anger flow through him, how dare this man do this.

“Father.” Mustafa replied simply, the use of the word causing his father’s eyebrows to rise.

“What have you come for, why have you deserted your post?” His father asked.

Mustafa snorted. “I have done no such thing. I have come to stop a traitor from hurting the empire.” At that moment, the doors opened and the members of his regiment and the Janissaries entered surrounding them and lining the walls.

His father, for he was no longer Sultan in Mustafa’s eyes, sighed. “I see. And you would wish to know why we decided on this course, we suppose?” Mustafa did not respond he merely nodded. “Very well. Take a seat.” Mustafa ignored his father’s outstretched hand and remained standing. His father sighed once more, then spoke. “We are running low on funds for this war. We are being beaten on all fronts, we are facing a war with the Safavids, and we are running out of allies. There will be a rebellion in the islands should we keep fighting. There is no other option but to negotiate a peace with them, no matter how much we might despise them.” There was something imploring in his father’s voice, begging him to understand, he found it sickening.

“You would sell the men who have fought and bled for you, down the river. You would abandon everything that our ancestors, that you yourself have worked for, for a little peace?” Mustafa replied. “I do not know what has happened to you father, but I know that this is not something I can stand. When I was in Serbia, the army was strong and confident. But they did not have the right orders. Your commanders are old and weak. They are not thinking properly; they are doing nothing properly. That is why we are losing. Nothing else.”

His father sighed. “You think as a young man, and that is understandable for that is what you are. You have the mind of someone hungry for war, for glory. You have not fought through the struggles. Mustafa, think with your brain, not with your heart, for one moment!” His father coughed then continued. “The army needs reform yes; we admit to that. But you cannot reform an army whilst still at war. We need time and energy and funds to reform it. We cannot do that with a war raging still. We must find a means for peace at any cost.”

“Any cost?” Mustafa repeated, not believing that the man before him was his father. “What happened to you, father? Where has, your pride gone? Where has, your determination gone? Do you think that if you surrender meekly now, they will give you peace? They will eat at the Empire until it is no more.”

His father raised his hands in apparent frustration. “You are insufferable, Mustafa. You are short sighted and you will doom the Empire to its downfall.”

Mustafa laughed. “I will be the one to prevent the mistakes that you have made from damaging it. Now,” he unrolled a paper he had had written and signed whilst he was returning from Serbia. “By order of the Grand Vizier and those most noble and wise councilmen of the Court of the Ulema, we, Mustafa, Prince of Osman, and heir to the Caliph, do declare before the gathered assembly that you, our sire, Mehmed, the Fourth of that most illustrious name are no longer fit to rule as Sultan. We do beseech you to resign your title and power into our hands for the good of the Empire. Allah be Praised.” He finished reading, saw the resignation in his father’s eyes and handed him the paper to be signed.

His father didn’t say anything, he simply took the document, took a quill, read what was before him, then he signed it. He handed it back to Mustafa, who handed it to a member of his bodyguard. His father looked at him then and said. “You will have much to do. I wish you well, Your Majesty.” Mustafa nodded.

“You shall retire to Edirne.” With that he turned and walked out of the room, he had a war to win.

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 30: Ornament of The Throne​

Aurangzeb grimaced. His back was paining him, his legs were aching and most importantly his head pounded. Where this sudden infliction of wounds came from he did not know, but there it was. He rolled his shoulders and had to repress a grimace. It would not do for others to see his weakness and his pain. Aurangzeb signalled for a drink and was provided with one. Water, not wine. He was not his father. He took a sip, then spoke.

“We have been fighting this war against the clan of Shivaji for some time now and as far as we can tell there has been little progress actually made, we wish to know why this is the case.” His voice was firm and determined, good, that was what was needed.

His chief military officer Muhammad Akbar took a deep breath then replied. “Your Imperial Majesty, there has been much difficulty in locating the rebels, and ensuring that we have sufficient resources to handle them. With the defeat a few years ago, there has been some resistance to the idea of engaging in a fully fledged campaign, and instead, some generals have suggested taking the war through stealth.”

Aurangzeb snorted. “That does not mean that the will is not there. It means that our generals have become lazy. Information shows that the Marathas remain in their infernal capital of Satara, showing that they have become lazy and incompetent. That fool Sambhaji has shown that he has less sense than his father. There is a simple solution to this.” He stopped, and Akbar responded.

“Sire?” The man sounded genuinely confused and Aurangzeb wondered why he tolerated this fool.

“We must force him to engage. There are plains near his capital, stores that would be of benefit to us, we take those stores then he shall have to come out from his city and then we shall be able to defeat him.” Aurangzeb replied.

Muhammed Akbar seemed worried over this for some reason, and eventually after a brief moment of silence said. “That would be advisable Your Imperial Majesty, but who would command this engagement?”

Aurangzeb stared at the man, ideally he would like to command the army himself, but he knew that was not a possibility, he also knew that Muhammed Akbar was a good administrator but not a great commander, therefore he said. “Our son Muhammed Kam shall command the army; he shall be dispatched as soon as forces can be made ready.” Akbar breathed a sigh of relief, and Aurangzeb added. “You shall be joining him as his chief advisor.” The man visibly deflated.

“Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.” The man replied.

Aurangzeb then turned to his chief spy master, “Shahid, you have kept us informed of a great many things through the years. Tell us, what are the rebels of Bengal plotting now?” The issue of Bengal had been one that had bothered him for some time, but he had not known how to handle it until quite recently.

“Your Imperial Majesty,” Shahid began, he was a small man with small eyes. “The rebels have confined themselves to simply printing things they believe will get them attention. Their leaders have been arrested and hanged by the Subhadar, but some new groups are forming.”

“And what groups are these?” Aurangzeb asked, he knew that his son Azam would be able to handle whatever these fools threw at them, though the memories of the invasion of Ahom haunted him still.

“They are minor nobles, Your Imperial Majesty, they dance from town to town, speaking of insurrection against the Subhadar, of freeing themselves from his oppressive grasp. They gather support and money, and when the Subhadar’s troops try and find them, they disappear into the mist.” Shahid replied.

“Tell Ibrahim, that we shall expect a full and detailed report as soon as he is able. Also tell him that hunting through the jungles and the swamps is not enough, he needs to place people within the towns. That is where discontent will start.” Aurangzeb said, it was always the intellectuals who started these uprisings.

“Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.” Shahid said. He then said. “There is also the matter of Persia, Your Imperial Majesty. They have been massing troops near the Control Line, and every attempt by the governor to ask them to desist has failed.”

“We see.” Aurangzeb replied. The Persians were nothing more than ingrates at this point, their once great empire had fallen, and he was determined to push them out of his empire once and for all. “How many soldiers do we have?”

“Some fifty thousand. They have some forty thousand massing and more coming.” Shahid replied.

“Very well. We shall wait and see what happens, until such time as they give reason for war, we should not engage.” Aurangzeb replied, though he desperately wanted to hit the Persians over the head until they stopped moving, he knew doing so would be impractical.

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 31: Sunderland Jive​

Robert could feel his bones beginning to groan, they were tired, he was tired, but he continued to serve loyally. Her Majesty had given birth to another boy earlier in the year, a boy she and her husband had named George, after the boy’s father and St George. As such the Queen was recovering from the birth and the Duke of Cumberland was attending as her representative, not as Lord High Admiral. Cabinet was in session. Sunderland took a moment to compose his thoughts then nodded to the Duke.

“Her Majesty, the Queen is doing well. She sends her regards to you all, and as such instructs you all to continue with business. Any queries you have, may be passed to me, and from there she shall consider them.” The Duke of Cumberland said.

Sunderland nodded, the Duke was an affable fellow, a good consort. “Thank you, Your Royal Highness.” He looked at the papers before him, highlighting the agenda. “I bring good tidings from the continent. Since the Battle of Mons and Parliament’s grant of more funds for the Earl of Peterborough’s brigade, we have received good news and tidings. Victory has been had in two battles against the French. Firstly at Meuse entrance to France, victory against a small contingent allowed the Earl of Marlborough to venture into France properly. It was there that a siege of Condé has begun. Meanwhile, Peterborough’s brigade managed to aid Gastagna’s host in its fight against the French forces at Furnes. They are now aiming to join with the Earl of Marlborough’s host.” There was cheering at this, and though Sunderland did not know whether he approved of Churchill being granted an earldom, he was happy that they were doing well.

The Duke of Cumberland seemed happy with this. Godolphin, the lord of the treasury spoke then. “This is fabulous news, of course the longer they are out there in the field, the more money we shall need to raise. Which considering the victory they have achieved, should not be hard to get. However, I must ask, whether or not we would consider withdrawing the fleet from its patrols.”

Sunderland looked at the man as though he were mad. “That would do nothing than give Louis of France the idea that we are cowed by his might. That is not something we can allow to stand. As long as our fleet patrols the channel, Louis cannot do anything naval wise.” Indeed, reports from their spies stated that after the death of his chief minister, King Louis was growing increasingly concerned about his coastlines.

Godolphin then said. “This might be true, my lord. But we must find a way to end this war quickly, as I am sure you are aware, the King of Spain is looking as though he might die at any moment, and whilst that statement has been true for almost all of his life, it is becoming increasingly true now.”

Sunderland nodded. “You are right there, Godolphin. Catalonia looks as though it might well sink within French claws, unless King Carlos can find some way to muster support. I fear that there might well be another war over Spain before the century is out.” He hoped not, but knowing King Louis that was likely.

Shrewsbury spoke then. “I have had contact with our friends of Denmark and Sweden, and they are considering whether the French expansion into the Rhine affects them. As of right now neither side sees any benefit in getting involved and are far more concerned about Russia to their east, at least Sweden is. However, if the Duke of Oldenburg were to get involved, I have a feeling the King of Denmark would feel he would have to get involved. And facing four kingdoms could well get the King of France to cease.”

Sunderland was not sure whether that would happen, but regardless he said. “Very well, approach the matter with delicacy, we do not want word of this getting back to Versailles.” He was not a fool he knew Louis of France had spies within the court.

Shrewsbury nodded, then asked. “What of the Emperor, has he managed to agree to peace with the Turks?”

Sunderland shook his head. “It appears there has been some new development in Constantinople, the Sultan has been replaced by his son and as such this son is pushing a much harder bargain than the Emperor is willing to entertain.”

There was a brief silence, in which they all contemplated what would happen if the Emperor got tied down in another war on his eastern and southern front. And how much damage would come if France forced Spain out of the war. Deciding that there could be no more reason for discussing this as of now, Sunderland then said. “What news has there been of the Statutory Act?” The act which had been proposed in the Commons was set to increase the age for people wishing to benefit from the Relief Act passed earlier in the Parliament.

“Shaftesbury and his lot are opposing it as stridently as they can, deeming it offensive and un-English.” Shrewsbury replied, rolling his eyes for they both knew that he was in support of it.

Sunderland nodded. “And the rest?”

“Manchester, Sandwich and others are in support. When it comes to a vote, we shall win.” Shrewsbury replied.

“Good.” Sunderland knew how important this bill was to the Queen.

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 32: Maria, Maria.​

As a child, Maria Antonia had loved walking through the hallways of the Hofburg, assessing the history of the palace, and seeing the paintings on the walls. She had played games with other girls here, the daughters of her father’s courtiers, and she had had a happy childhood. When she had married Maximillian, she had moved away from here and been sad. Then her father had summoned Maximillian to court and at court she had remained for a time, until they had returned. Now, she was back, at her father’s insistence, bringing her children Margaret Theresa and Leopold Maximilian with her.

Her father sat before her, his hair greying slightly, his moustache grey, his eyes had bags under them. “You are finding your stay here well, we trust?” He asked. Emperor Leopold was as ever direct and to the point.

“I am.” Maria replied. She enjoyed talking with her father’s new wife, and she thought that his children were interesting people.

“Good.” Her father replied, there was a silence, her father and she had never quite gotten along with one another, or rather they had never known quite what to talk about. Maria had long suspected that her father blamed her for her mother’s death. A beat passed, then her father said. “There are some things we wished to speak with you about, dearest Maria. They involve your children as well as your husband.”

For a brief moment, Maria feared that her husband was dead, she didn’t like the man, but he was her children’s father and if he died, then things could get very complicated. “Yes?” She asked, keeping her face as neutral as possible.

“Firstly, your daughter Margaret shall marry our son Charles, we have received confirmation from His Holiness, the Pope that this shall stand. Secondly, your son Leopold, we wish to have him raised and taught basic things here at Vienna, where he might be taught properly. And avoid the chaos of the Spanish court.” The Emperor said.

You mean to ensure he remains loyal to Vienna after he ascends the throne. Maria thought to herself, her father might not get his son on the throne of Spain, but he would keep control, through her children. She wouldn’t allow that to stand though, as soon as Uncle Carlos was dead she would have her own way. “And what was there about my husband, you wished to speak about?” She knew it was better to appear to acquiesce to her father than invoke his wrath.

Here was one of the rare times where her father smiled at her, that had never been a constant feature during her childhood. “He has succeeded in defeating a French army at Philipsburg, and has ensured that the French will soon be breaking. But that is not the main reason we wished to discuss him.” There was a pause, and Maria suspected her father was about to say something she would on principle disagree with. “We believe and your husband has agreed that there should be a slight division of the Spanish territories upon your ascension to the Spanish throne.”

This was something she had not thought about, yes her uncle was most likely going to die at some point, but his continued survival, and from what she had heard his reluctance to ever divide the empire had made her thing her father would see that. Clearly he had not. “What about the division? Where would the division go?”

“Your daughter and our son shall rule over the Spanish Low Countries, as a vassal toward the Spanish throne, much as our ancestors did in the days of old. Should they have any children then the Spanish Low Countries shall become a separate territory. Milan shall become the Empire’s once you ascend the throne pursuant to the decree of His Imperial Majesty Emperor Charles. The rest shall remain with you.” Her father said.

Maria nearly laughed with relief that wasn’t as bad as she had thought. Her father did not want the colonies he did not want Naples, he only wanted Milan and for the Spanish Low Countries to go to his son by his new wife. That was something she could content herself with, the Spanish Low Countries from what she could understand had been nothing but a hassle for the Spanish for some time. But there was one thing she wanted to ask. “It is one thing for me to agree to this, but how do you know that the other powers shall agree?” She particularly wondered about France where the Sun King’s children had a superior claim to her.

Her father did something then that was somewhere between a sigh and a snort. He did that every so often, it had been something that she found infuriating as a child. It still annoyed her as an adult. “We believe the Dutch and the English shall agree with that, as it prevents the balance of power from being disrupted. The French will be too tied down with the results of the War on the Rhine to do anything about it.”

Her father sounded so very confident that she eventually had to nod and say. “Then I accept.”

Her father nodded happily. “Very well.” He waved a hand and she got up and curtseyed before him, then straightened and walked out of the room. Once she made it to her own quarters where her daughter and son were playing she looked at them and prayed silently.

Please let them keep their health, let them enjoy peace that I never knew.

Surely the creator would not harm two such innocents? Regardless of the sins of their ancestors.

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 33: Mustafa the Bold​

After removing his father from power, Mustafa had made the decision to gather the army and march at once to challenge the infidel’s hold over Serbia. His allies in the French had provided spies and other means of testing where the enemy was, and he had used them to their full extent. Rallying the soldiers of Bulgaria, he had mustered an impressive army, with guns and all. They had crossed through the land and had assailed a host on the border of Serbia before beating them and crossing over. This had forced the enemy to come scampering down, and that was where Mustafa was now.

He observed the battle, the roars of men, the commands being bellowed and the roar of cannons and he smiled. Things were going well from what he could see. They were pushing the infidel back, the more they attacked the right, the harder it would be for the enemy’s left to rally effectively. Mustafa saw one of Pasha’s scouts coming to him. The man dismounted, and bowed. “Speak.” Mustafa commanded.

“Sire, I bring reports from the Grand Vizier. He reports that the enemy’s right has been broken. They are retreating and as such he wishes for permission to pursue.” The man reported.

Mustafa smiled, the breaking of the right was significant, it meant that the enemy was falling into the trap. “Tell him, he has our permission.” Mustafa told the scout. The man bowed, then hurried off to his horse and disappeared in a gallop. Mustafa knew that if they could wipe the right off the map then things would be even better. “Kamal,” he called.

“Sire?” His advisor, Kamal Pasha came. The man had grey hair, a short beard and a strong bear like physique. He had served Mustafa since Mustafa was old enough to remember.

“Tell me, Kamal. Do you think that the centre and the left will retreat when they learn of their right flank breaking?” Mustafa asked.

Kamal had served in his father’s army before being appointed to Mustafa’s household, and Mustafa trusted him the most out of all the men present. The man took his time to respond, but when he did his answer was provided with conviction. “Sire, I believe that the enemy will regroup. The right might well have been ordered to retreat and break as it has. Therefore, I feel that the Grand Vizier had best be careful before he dashes off into some mad hope for glory.”

Mustafa pondered this, he debated sending word off to the Vizier, telling him not to do as they had thought, but then he decided against it. He did not wish to come off as indecisive. Somewhere a cannon went off, and a roar sounded. “Muhammed.” He said. His second in command appeared, this man was chiselled from muscle, Mustafa knew he’d take him into his bed after this battle was done.

“Sire.” Muhammed replied bowing his head.

“Find Erduk Pasha, and tell him that we wish for him to march forward now.” Mustafa replied. He knew that what he was demanding was risky, that moving the left before the right had completely been destroyed would likely leave the centre open to attack, but it needed to be done. He had a feeling that something was going to change in this battle, and he wanted all options covered.

“Sire.” Muhammed replied and then he sprinted off on his horse to give the command.

Mustafa was not sure how long he remained where he was overseeing the battle, fighting the urge to give the command to engage directly. He knew he had to wait for the right moment. That if he acted before the time was right that things could go horribly wrong. They needed the sun to rise higher, to blind their charge from the Serbians and their allies. He glanced at the thing in the sky, and saw it was slowly rising, but not high enough. He cursed under his breath.

Suddenly, Muhammed returned. “Sire, the left has been broken.” Mustafa cursed. He nodded, then dismissed the man.

“Sound the charge.” There was no other choice, he had to engage now. The sun had not risen high enough, but it would need to be done. The horns sounded, he spurred his horse on, his guards and the corps moved with him. They picked up pace and moved toward where the fighting was fiercest, he would not have it be said that he was a coward.

The first few exchanges with the enemy made his blood soar, he felt something stirring within his trousers, but ignored the thought, and continued on his way. His weapon made the way easier for him, as did the corps, they truly were a great fighting force. He would need to make some changes to their arrangement when he returned to Constantinople, or perhaps after this battle. Either way, things would need to be changed. He pushed on, but there was something wrong with his system, it was not responding as he wished it to. He could not look down, he had been told to never look down during a battle.

Mustafa felt something hit his head, it hit quite hard, and it stunned him. His vision began blurring and he tasted salt in his mouth, which didn’t make sense to him. They weren’t near a body of water. His horse started moving oddly, and his head pained him. There were voices shouting and demanding he respond, he wanted to, to yell at them for demanding their Sultan respond to him, but he couldn’t speak. His tongue felt too heavy. He closed his eyes, and prayed.

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 34: Leopold, King of Strategy​

The repairs on Schönbrunn were going apace, the palace would soon be habitable again, and that was something Leopold looked forward to. Hofburg was tolerable, but at times could be overbearing. Especially with the children. Joseph was growing up into a mature young man, a man that Leopold knew he would be proud of, though his son’s fondness for the opposite sex worried Leopold somewhat, he could not have there be any bastards roaming around. His other children were growing and maturing also, Leopold hoped to make good marriages for them. Once these infernal wars were over.

He had summoned the war cabinet to discuss the wars they were fighting, and so now with them all gathered he spoke. “We wish for reports from Serbia.” There had been an attempted invasion by the Turks in Serbia, and Leopold had commanded Baden with his corps to throw the invasion off completely.

Salm, who had become the war minister, took a moment then said. “Sire, we have received good news from Serbia. Sultan Mustafa led a dangerous and daring attack on imperial forces at Lukavica, and after his left was damaged, he led a charge himself. He was badly wounded and killed by a cannon ball.”

Leopold repressed a snort, the Sultan was young, Leopold had been told, and apparently quite foolish. “What happened when the Turks learned their Sultan had been killed?”

Salm smiled. “They fought briefly, before surrendering. Their commander pushed for a swift retreat.” Leopold nodded, this was good news, if the Ottomans had been looking for a retreat, that would mean that they were done for.

“Who is their new Sultan?” Leopold asked directing the question at Metternich.

His Master of Foreign Affairs, took a moment then said. “After Sultan Mustafa’s death there was some uncertainty as to who was in charge. The Sultan had come to power by removing his father, Sultan Mehmed, and consequently some wanted the man’s brother Ahmed to take power. However, Ahmed is not yet of the right age to take power, therefore the throne was offered to Sultan Mehmed once more. The man has agreed to take the reins of power.”

“And does this man still wish for peace?” Leopold asked. He knew they were running low on money, that raising taxes even further within his lands would lead to more revolts, revolts that either the French or the Ottomans could use for their own good.

“He does, Sire. It seems that Sultan Mehmed knows what his own son did not. The continued raising of taxation does nothing but destabilise the peoples. They wish for peace also.” Metternich said.

Leopold felt as though there was some lesson he was meant to take from that, he ignored that, and instead asked. “And what terms would this Sultan seek peace under?” He knew his own terms, but he wished to know whether the Sultan was realistic or not.

“The same terms as those with which he had proposed before his first deposition.” Metternich responded. “Hungary, Transylvania, Croatia and Serbia shall become part of the Crown Lands, whilst Wallachia, Moldavia, Montenegro, Bulgaria and Bosnia shall remain part of the Ottoman Empire.”

Leopold considered this, he suspected that the King of Poland would want Wallachia, but for the time being he was willing to let that go, what Sobieski wanted was of no concern to him. “Very well, we wish to speak with the Ottoman ambassador as soon as possible to arrange the discussion of the treaty.” Metternich bowed his head, and Leopold then asked. “And what of word on the war with France?” Now that war with the Ottomans was likely over, he could commit his entire force to knocking the French down.

Salm spoke then. “Cologne and Bonn are secure; His Highness the Prince of Orange has ensured that they are well garrisoned and is marching his army to aid the Elector of Bavaria. Unfortunately, forays into Coblenz and Mainz have not been successful, whilst Philipsburg has returned to the control of the French.”

Leopold did not like that, this was not how things were supposed to have gone, nonetheless, there was no point in getting angry over it. “How much more time do you think we shall have before the French commit their full strength?” That was his main concern, as long as the French were divided between various fronts, they stood a chance, once it became a concentrated effort things would be much more difficult.

“Sire, I believe the French won’t have the chance to commit their entire strength to the region. The English continue harassing their northern lines, and the Savoyards under their Duke and Prince Eugene continue to exercise caution on the border with the Dauphine, I believe they will be stuck to engage completely.” Salm responded.

Leopold considered this, then asked. “We have sufficient strength to recall troops from Serbia and engage them against the French?” He was not sure whether that would be the right call, but he would make it, if he could.

Salm shook his head. “Until peace is made, Sire, I would advise against that. Better to directly instruct Hanover and his allies to attack Philipsburg.”

“Very well, then send the order.” Leopold commanded.

“As you wish, Sire.” Salm replied.

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 35: Sambhaji The Iron​

Sambhaji felt tired, the countless hours he had spent reading through notes, through plans and countless other documents was beginning to leave its mark on him. He suspected that deep down, there was another reason for his frenetic pursuit of information, but right now he did not have the time or the patience to analyse himself. Instead, Sambhaji wiped sleep from his eyes, and looked at the men gathered about him. His councillors, convened for a planned excursion. The first in almost two years.

“We are sitting on information that could well make things different for everyone within the Mughal Empire and ensure that there is a reliable network of allies for our dream to come true. To bring Bharat back to being.” Sambhaji began. “To sit on this information and not do anything with it, would break the bounds of Dharma, and go against the very vows we swore, when our father, the great Shivaji died. We must act, and we must act now.”

Moresvhar Pingley, the Peshwa, who held a minor position now than his father had spoke. “Sire, your words are well thought and meaningful. But I fear we cannot supply for a long drawn out war. The Rajput clans continue fighting amongst themselves, the south sits on its own issues, and the east is lost to the fighting of the Muslims. Where shall we get the allies for, Sire?”

Sambhaji looked at the man, he did not quite like him, but he was capable and that was why Sambhaji had decided to retain him. “We believe that there is nothing more necessary than showing the other states, that we are serious about what we mean and stand for. There is a convoy coming from the Mughal centre for their governor to the north of us, we must act and attack it and we must do so now. Do otherwise means we are weak.” And he would not accept that, the Marathas were not weak.

Pingley looked torn. “Sire, I understand your desire, but to act now, with our forces not yet completely trained under the auspices of what the English feel is necessary, is that not foolish?”

Sambhaji felt his frustration with Pingley grow, there was something this man was not saying and what it was, he did not know, but it was there, a clear presence in the room. He looked at Mohite, his most able general, and the man spoke. “Sire, I think that whilst there are adequate concerns to be had, we must consider other things. The Mughals are concerned with fighting the Persians, the majority of their northern strength and several of their Princes are fighting there. The Convoy going southwards is to aid someone they consider weak. We can attack it, take what we need and leave the rest. By the time Aurangzeb is ready to retaliate we shall be ready.”

Pingley spoke then. “Sire, surely we should wait and consider our options completely before making any such moves? There are things that we need to take into count, such as taxation, the men and the training and their safety.”

“All things we have already done. The men are eager to fight; they are trained in the air of warfare before the jungle becomes the natural habitat. And we know where the Mughal weaknesses are.” Mohite fired back.

“And the finances, are they secure?” Pingley asked.

Finance Minister Govinda Gaekwad spoke then. “We have enough coin for the army and the navy, as well as for bribes, Sire, should it come down to it.”

Sambhaji smiled. “Then it is decided we shall attack this convoy. Mohite, we want the men prepared and ready to march within the week. Not a day later.” The general bowed. “Dismissed.” Sambhaji said then, and the council dispersed. Sambhaji waited for a moment and then said. “You can come out now.” Sardwar, the court eunuch and his secret spymaster emerged, it smelt of perfume and all sorts of other things. “What did you notice?” He asked.

“Every time Pingley spoke he looked at his fingers, and the rings. The third one on his middle finger was a gift from the English on the Seven Isles. I believe that he is being paid by them.” Sardwar responded.

“Believe or know?” Sambhaji asked, he would not execute his minister for a probability.

Sardwar produced documents and placed them on the table. Sambhaji read through them, once he was done the eunuch spoke. “He has been receiving payments for some time, Sire. I think you would best be rid of him.”

Sambhaji nodded, then waved a hand, dismissing the eunuch, the man bowed and left. Leaving the King alone to his own thoughts. If they took the convoy and the weapons there, then they were sorted for the next campaign. If they succeeded there, then others would join them, and perhaps they could even take Delhi. If, if, if. So many ifs, he needed a guarantee.

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 36: Mehmed The Sad​

Mehmed did not know why Allah had decided this fate for him. Had he been so cruel in a previous life that Allah thought fit to remove his son, his firstborn from this world? Mehmed had not agreed with Mustafa over the plan for another war with the infidel. They were not strong enough to continue such a campaign, especially with the Persians planning another conquest. Yet Mustafa had gone and fought and died. Mehmed had immediately been offered the throne once more, mainly because his son Ahmed did not want the throne yet. Mehmed had accepted, and now here he was, meeting with the Imperial Ambassador.

“What terms does your Emperor want?” Mehmed asked.

“Your Most Royal Majesty,” The ambassador replied. “His Most Christian Majesty, Emperor Leopold wishes for peace to be brought between the two realms, and for the land that has been conquered by his forces to be seceded to him. This means, Transylvania, Croatia and Serbia.”

So, these were the terms that Mehmed had proposed originally, before his son had demanded that there be another war. Mehmed thinks over this, whilst this treaty would secede a large part of his empire, he knows it would bring peace, and ensure that the burdensome taxation he has subjected his subjects to for the past ten years would end. He looked to his chief advisor, the new Grand Vizier Kamal Pasha, who nodded in agreement. Mehmed turned back to look at the ambassador. “Then inform your master, that we would be more than happy to agree to these terms.” Mehmed said calmly. He knows that soon some will rebel.

The man bowed. “Thank you, Your Most Royal Majesty.” He turned and left the room, returning a few moments later with a treaty, that Mehmed had already known about. “If Your Most Royal Majesty would be so kind as to sign.”

Mehmed took a quill from his servant, and took the treaty as it was handed to him. He knew there would be another formal signing much later, but this would do for now. He added his signature to the document and saw it handed back to the ambassador. The man bowed then departed. Once he was gone, Mehmed got up and walked to where the meeting of his imperial council was to be held. The advisors filed in after him. His first question was one of grave importance. “Where are the Persians?”

“They have taken border fortresses, Your Royal Majesty.” Kamal said. “They’ve massacred men and women and children at the towns they’ve taken and they are planning a campaign to move closer into Mesopotamia.”

Mehmed grimaced that was not good news whatsoever. “Who commands them?” He demanded, depending on who it was, Mehmed thought he could perhaps bribe them.

“Mirwas Hotak, a young general who has gained the favour of the Shah.” Pasha responded.

“Are they pressing on the border, or in Mesopotamia?” Mehmed demanded, depending on the answer he would give his next command.

“Mesopotamia, Sire. Though reports have led us to believe that they might also consider moving into the border proper.” Pasha responded.

“Then we want word sent to this Hotak, offer him a chance to show where his loyalty lies. And if he makes the right choice, then we shall offer him Afghanistan as his true nature.” Mehmed responded.

“But Sire, will that not needlessly antagonise the Mughals?” His son Ahmed asked.

Mehmed sighed. He knew his son spoke the truth, but if he were being frank with himself, the Mughals have grown tiresome. Aurangzeb’s needless antagonism of his many subjects for religious reasons has made it harder for Mehmed to see the man’s Empire lasting beyond his death. “We do not think there is such a concern. Their Emperor focuses internally; he did not respond to the raids sanctioned on territory we both agreed was neutral.” That raid had happened ten years ago, and it still rankled him.

His son remained silent. Erduk Pasha, the Minister for War spoke then. “Sire, there are chances that some of the corps might seek to petition for stationing in Greece.”

“Greece?” Mehmed asked. He looked at Kamal who elaborated.

“Word has come that there is some trouble growing amongst the nobles there. Some stirring about uprising.”

Mehmed snorted. “Peasants and impoverished nobles will not rebel. Not now that the great war is over. We shall reduce our taxes on them, and the other lands we hold in Europe and we shall now turn our attention to ensuring Hotak does not make a mistake.”

There was a brief silence as everyone considered what he had said. Mehmed was convinced that what he had said was the right thing. They could not afford to have a long drawn out war with the Safavids, just as they could not continue fighting with the Infidels. If they could get peace with one, and bribe the other’s commander, then that would be fine with him. Kamal spoke then. “If that is Your Most Royal Majesty’s wish?”

“Yes.” Mehmed replied knowing that quick action was needed to ensure things went as he wished. Kamal bowed, and Mehmed rose, signalling the end of the meeting. He nodded to all gathered and walked out of the room, making his way down to the harem. He needed a drink, or several.

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 37: Berwick​

James had been fighting in wars for most of his adult life. First for his father, then for the Imperial Army, and now he was fighting another war, this time against the French. His commander, the Elector of Hanover had decided to aid in the investiture of some of the northern French towns, and so here he was, near Le Quesnoy, with the English forces, in his uncle’s tent no less. His uncle had been raised to an Earl after a successful victory against the French two years ago, and so far had added to his legend. James hoped to learn from him as time progressed.

His uncle was showing him some of the maps and the plans he had made, when James asked. “Do you think the French will attempt to use Parliament against the war effort?” It was question he considered quite valid considering the mess that Parliament often made in times of war.

His uncle, the Earl of Marlborough considered the question. “I believe that they might well see the sense in giving more funding for a greater expanse of troops. We’ve got somewhere near twenty thousand troops currently out in the field. Two battalions under my command, and two under the command of the Duke of Ormonde. Then there is of course the battalion that Hanover has raised. I believe if we can get a decisive victory they will add more.”

James considered this, he had always found it odd how a body of elected popinjays got to decide how many troops were sent and how much they were paid. To him that made no sense. The troops fought for the crown, in this case, his sister, the Queen, she should get the complete choice of who served and when and how many men were sent. He knew bringing such a thing up with his uncle would not go down well though. His uncle was that odd type of man, a royalist, but with the tendency to swing behind whoever was ascendant. From the way the man was speaking, it seemed Parliament was ascendant, though that didn’t fit with what he’d heard from friends. “How is Her Majesty doing?” James asked. He’d met his sister, the Queen briefly a few years ago. He’d found her an interesting person.

“Well enough, my wife, Lady Sarah, who serves as Her Majesty’s chief lady in waiting reports that the Queen has been doing very well, and that her children are also well.” The Earl replied. There was a pause, and James got the sense that his uncle was about to give him some unwanted piece of advice. “You know, lad, you still hold a peerage in England, a Dukedom in Scotland. You would be best served returning to home.”

“And how would I achieve that? By right of the Test Acts, I cannot take up an office, or serve in the army. I am a Catholic, uncle. Or had you forgotten that?” James replied, he remembered how his uncle had appeared bitterly disappointed that he’d not been named colonel of the Blues, but James had and the tension that had caused.

“You can always convert.” His uncle replied. James raised an eyebrow and his uncle continued. “Her Majesty has expressed a desire for those who are young and of able service to sign for the military. You are one of the best young commanders around. I know, for the Elector told me of your plan during the crossing of the Rhine, and the battles on the borders. England, could you well with your service. All you need do is convert.”

James considered this, he had to admit the chance of coming home, and actually well having a home was a tempting thought. He had been born and raised a Catholic, but he had never quite felt much affinity to it. He had always seen himself as a member of the Stuart dynasty, and as such he was English, Scottish and Irish, nothing more, nothing less. He wished to serve his country and his Queen. “Would my conversion be taken seriously?” He asked. James knew that whilst the Queen might accept him at his word, her advisors, or rather the fools in Parliament might not.

“Yes. Her Majesty has convinced the Archbishop of Canterbury to prepare for such an event.” Marlborough replied.

James raised an eyebrow at that, wondering how the Queen could have known he’d say yes. Perhaps his uncle had managed to get things to work this way, or perhaps his uncle was bluffing. Regardless, he had made the decision now, he might as well commit to it. “Then I shall happily convert after the war is done.”

His uncle smiled and clapped his shoulder. “Good lad.” There was a pause, then his uncle said. “You might want to get some rest, lad, we’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

James nodded, and turned and walked out of the tent, as he made his way back to his own, he wondered whether the future would present something of a chance for him, or whether he would be exiled completely if he went through with this.

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 38: Pytor​

Spring was always an interesting time, the weather shifted between snow and thunder and light and warm. Right now, it appeared to be burning hot, though there was still snow on the ground. Peter was not sure why that was the case. Regardless, he knew that he could not spend so much time wondering over the weather. That he had to pay attention to the efforts of his mother and his uncle to rule the great expanse that was his dominion. His brother Ivan could not function as a man, beyond producing daughters, daughters Peter knew he would have to send to the church at some point. He cleared his throat and then looked at his uncle.

“Well, I have seen the reports coming from our lands, and they do not seem quite as appropriate as I would have wished.” Peter said, he took his time to consider his next few words, wanting to get the phrasing just right. “I was informed that the Holy Roman Empire would want to finish the Ottomans completely, so as to prevent any such chance that the Ottoman Turk would regain power in the years to come. Especially with their own Sultans changing like flies.”

His uncle appeared calm, though Peter suspected that the man was nervous, things hadn’t been going according to plan since Sophia’s disastrous campaigns. “Your Majesty, the Austrians have decided that they do not wish to continue fighting much longer. The Turks have decided that they too wish for peace for now. For they have taken much loss of life and the Sultan does not wish to keep burdening his people with excessive tax.”

“So, you mean to inform me, that the Austrians, those who bear a title of Emperor mean to allow the greatest threat to Christendom to remain in power on their border, due to a desire for peace?” Peter thundered.

“They are also fighting a war against the French, Your Majesty, and the Emperor knows that he needs to win that war to be able to engage in any further war with the Turks in the future.” His uncle responded.

Peter snorted. “You mean to say they are more concerned with fighting the French than they are fighting the Turk.” He knew that perhaps he was being unreasonable but he was sure the military was far superior to 1688, and that he could actually achieve some victories. “What of the Poles would they not wish for something more against the Turks, after all the Turks might well consider expanding into their own territory through Wallachia or Moldavia.”

His uncle shook his head. “Unfortunately not, Your Majesty. The Poles it seems are preparing for another election for the throne. It appears that their King is incredibly ill.”

Peter sighed. “What of Wallachia and Moldavia themselves? Surely their rulers cannot be happy under the thumb of the Turks, and without the security that the Austrians will come and protect them, they must be nervous.”

“Your Majesty, I believe they are indeed nervous, but they are people who have experienced such things before. For us to be of any assistance to them we would need to venture through Polish lands and that is not something we can do right now. Not without an alliance.” His uncle replied.

There was some hint of a suggestion in the man’s voice and Peter raised an eyebrow. He decided against pursuing that course of thought and instead turned his attention to another thing. “We have enough guns, and enough men to venture forth on our own, but not with any confidence without allies.”

“Indeed, Your Majesty. Allies are of crucial importance.” His uncle said, again with that suggestive tone.

Peter raised an eyebrow, he did not like the sound of what his uncle was suggesting. “Alexei is young yet, but a possible betrothal could do him some good. Who is the leading commander of the current forces in the West?” Peter asked, wanting some thorough knowledge of who his son would marry before he advanced with such proposals.

“His Highness, Prince William of Orange.” His uncle replied looking through the reports. “He is the commander of the forces against France.”

Peter nodded, thoughtfully, this might be something to pursue. He saw his uncle looking at him again, and replied. “I won’t be marrying any such Princess now, I have an heir, he shall marry for the good of Russia. I shall be marrying Anna when the time is right.”

His uncle looked deflated at that, but simply acquiesced. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 39: Mrs Morley​

Anne ran a hand through her hair, she liked the new hairstyle, slightly up but not too high, and enough to allow George to see some of her neck, enough to keep him interested and tempted through the day. After five children, Anne wondered if her husband still found her desirable, he’d not come to her bed for love for some time now, but he did not have any mistresses. Though he was quite busy overseeing the navy and development of new ships, perhaps that was what kept him so preoccupied. She would speak with him, or perhaps her friend Mrs Freeman could help her.

She looked at the lady in question and spoke. “Our husband has been much preoccupied as of late, and he has not yet returned to our bed since the last time we made love some time three moons ago. We are not sure what to do.” She knew that a Queen was not supposed show weakness or insecurity, but with Mrs Freeman she could be.

Mrs Freeman always held her head high and ensured that she never wavered, it was one of the things Anne liked about her. “Well, Mrs Morley you’ve got to lure him back to bed. Men are creatures of the flesh like animals, they need to be tempted.” Mrs Freeman nodded to the hairstyle that Anne had adopted and thus made popular to court. “That should do it. But if not, you should use the perfume I gave you. I’ve been told it worked for Lady Elizabeth.”

That intrigued Anne, she had always thought Lady Elizabeth and her husband had such a strong connection, perhaps the fact that they too had had so many children had caused a separation. “Truly? Oh that is wonderful!” Anne responded.

“Indeed it is. But Mrs Morley, there is something more pressing than that.” Mrs Freeman replied. Anne raised an eyebrow and her friend continued. “You have three sons and two daughters, more than enough heirs. You must now start thinking about marriages for them.”

Anne was not sure she wanted to discuss this issue with Mrs Freeman-Sarah, thought slipped out- this was something meant for her and her husband to discuss. However, since the lady had brought it up she thought she might as well get her thoughts on it. “And who would you suggest?”

“An alliance with Sweden is necessary, Mrs Morley, there are things happening within the Empire that must needs a balance between Denmark and Sweden. Your daughter Mary is of an age with the Swedish King’s son.” Mrs Freeman responded.

“Which one? The man has two.” Anne replied and the thought of sending her eldest daughter Mary off to that cold barren hell was not appealing. Mary was a soft girl, meant for soft comforts.

“The eldest one, you want your daughter to be Queen.” Mrs Freeman replied, giving Anne a look as if to suggest she thought her simple.

“And, if this contradicts with the fine balance established between the two nations since the establishment of the Holsteins in Oldenburg?” Anne asked, knowing that the woman would likely shrug and say something else.

“And what of it? You want someone to give to your daughter. Unless the Crown Prince of Denmark dies and his brother becomes the new heir, you are going to need to give Mary to Sweden. Parliament won’t accept a Catholic marriage for your eldest daughter.” The woman replied. She then continued. “As for your heir, I think Sophia of Hanover might make a good marriage.”

Anne shook her head horrified at the mere suggestion. “We shall not have our eldest son married to the frump that is from Hanover, we would never have that thrust onto him.”

Mrs Freeman sighed. “Then perhaps you had best start considering looking elsewhere then.” Anne nodded, she could not consider anything with Hanover, not after how the oaf who was the heir to the electorate had rejected her so badly. The woman then said. “You know there is another issue that must be considered as well.”

Anne suspected she knew what the other woman was going to talk about and so she waited, then when it appeared the other lady wanted her to ask, she did. “And what might that be?”

“The Earl of Shaftesbury has reintroduced the Occasional Conformity Bill and this time has support amongst the opposition party in broad strokes across both houses. You would look foolish to reject it.” Mrs Freeman said.

Anne snorted. “They are not supporting the bill for him and he is not committed to it either. He is trying to prevent them from kicking him out of the party and replacing him with someone Devonshire finds more amenable.”

“So, it would do you well to allow this to pass, and ensure he remains. A pliable opposition is better than one that is always at odds.” Mrs Freeman replied.

Anne considered this, she knew that the bill could extend some rights to those who were more naturally inclined to support her and her prerogatives, but she also knew that Shaftesbury was like his father, a snake who was dangerous. “We shall see.” She replied.