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Audentes Fortuna Iuvat: A Timeline
- Thread starter pandizzy
- Start date
Chapter Four - The Royal Children
King Sebastian I’s sexuality is still a matter of much discussion between modern historians. In light of his happy, if not loving, marriage with Marguerite of Valois, some scholars hesitate to pin him as a homosexual. The horoscope cast by Fernando Maldonado predicted that Sebastian’s attraction to women would focus on his wife, who’d be a good woman, from which he’d have many sons. The births of Infantes João Manuel (1570), Filipe (1575) Henrique (1577), and Francisco (1579), with three of them being born in sequence seemed to prove this true, although would not fully dispel the rumors surrounding the King.
That Sebastian was attracted to his wife is indisputable. The pair met when they were still teenagers and conceived a child within one year of their union, with reports from the first few months of marriage describing them as being “close, never apart from one another. Where one goes, the other follows,”. King Sebastian was a highly religious man and felt enough concern about his lust for his wife to seek the help of his grand-uncle, the Cardinal-Infante Henry, who assured him that it was normal to feel this way about a wife.
Although he never acknowledged any bastard children, rumors surrounded the royal court that one of Margaret’s servants was dismissed after the Queen found out that her young child had been fathered by Sebastian. When Marguerite visited the Convento de Nossa Senhora da Esperança, or the Convent of our Lady of Hope, in 1582 to survey its installations, a young novice was kept out of her sight and never met the Queen. Some historians have suggested the girl, called Maria in some documents, was Sebastian’s natural child by a noble lady, who had retired to the Convent in shame.
Raquel Soares de Oliveira suggested in her book A Rainha Margot, or The Queen Margot, that the Queen felt a possessive love for her husband and would “not admit to sharing him with anyone”. The hot-blood attributed to Marguerite, said to have been inherited by her Italian mother, made her feel jealous of any pretty woman in court, and would often ignore potential ladies-in-waiting that could become a rival for her in Sebastian’s affections. This was, perhaps, due to her having grown up watching her mother struggle against Diane de Poitiers, Henri II’s favorite mistress. According to João Carlos de Souza, Margarida’s personality was enough to ward off any prospective lovers.
Regardless, it’s impossible to ignore Sebastian’s attraction to men. Sebastian’s preferred activities, jousting and hunting, were seen as an attempt by the King to portray an image of hyper-masculinity, likely in response to his insecurity towards his homosexual tendencies. During many nights of his years, the King was seen to have woken up during the night and taken long walks in the woods next to the Palace in Sintra, woods so thick that they are frightening even during the day. According to many, Sebastian would use those walks to meet with potential lovers, away from the eyes of his wife, children, and God. Once, Sebastian was found in the embrace of a young black man, with his weak excuse of having confused the other with a boar not being believed by many. It’s important to note that the death of Sebastian’s favorite, Dom Álvaro de Castro, who had once been his pageboy, was a blow to Sebastian; many times, he was seen walking to Álvaro’s grave, talking and returning with tears on his eyes.
If Margaret was aware of those walks, she did nothing to stop them. In fact, her rare fights with Sebastian were never about his possible affairs, but rather about either Catherine of Austria or their children. The couple had eight surviving children, with at least two miscarriages and one stillbirth scattered across twenty years of marriage. At first, both were young parents with little knowledge of child-rearing, turning to Catherine of Austria for help, but over the years, Margaret fought more and more for custody of her children. By the birth of their last child, Infanta Beatriz in 1580, it was the Queen who hired and fired tutors, servants, and nurses; anyone who may have come in contact with the royal children was under intense scrutiny from her.
A loving and devoted mother, Margaret sought to make herself the most important person in her children’s lives. Their nursery and rooms were close to her own quarters, and she paid much attention to their studies and health. Although many at court, including Catherine Habsburg, thought the Queen ought to be continually pregnant as to ensure the succession, the subtle spacing between each pregnancy and birth led many to believe Margaret breastfed her children herself. As breastfeeding among royals was not common, and even discouraged, in the sixteenth century, it’s unlikely that Margaret nursed the Infantes and Infantas herself, though she did nurse them through their illness, putting her health at great risk.
In the eighties, a letter was found, written by the tutor of the Infantes, the Jesuit priest Carlos Magalhães, regarding the routine followed daily by his charges and their sisters in the year 1585. The letter’s remarkable condition and content allowed modern historians to see Margaret Valois in a new light, with many drawing links between her and mothers in the late 20th century.
The routine is as follows, translated from Old Portuguese to modern English:
6h00: The children would be wakened by servants and then prepared for breakfast, which they’d have with their mother, the Queen.
7h30-8h30: The Infantes would attend mass with their father and mother, alongside most of the royal court.
9h00-12h00: The Infantes would meet with me for their lessons.
12h15-13h00: The royal children would have lunch with their mother, who made sure to attend every meal with her family.
13h-15h00: The children would have two hours of recreation, mostly spent playing games amongst each other.
15h00-17h00: I’d once more meet with the Infantes for lessons.
17h00-19h00: The King and Queen had supper and private family time with the children.
19h00-20h00: The children prepared for bed.
20h00: The children were put to bed.
Carlos’s reports allow historians to see how Sebastian and Margaret formed close bonds with their children, even during their childhood years. By refusing to allow his heirs to be raised in their own households outside of the palace, done in part because of his own lonely upbringing, Sebastian guaranteed his sons would never participate in rebellions against him and each other, due to the deep familial love felt by all.
Both Sebastião and Marguerite felt they knew what was best for their children, which provoked few, but memorable fights between them. Despite the severity of these arguments, they would always find cause to reconcile. If not for them, then for their Infantes and Infantas, whom they loved very much.
That Sebastian was attracted to his wife is indisputable. The pair met when they were still teenagers and conceived a child within one year of their union, with reports from the first few months of marriage describing them as being “close, never apart from one another. Where one goes, the other follows,”. King Sebastian was a highly religious man and felt enough concern about his lust for his wife to seek the help of his grand-uncle, the Cardinal-Infante Henry, who assured him that it was normal to feel this way about a wife.
Although he never acknowledged any bastard children, rumors surrounded the royal court that one of Margaret’s servants was dismissed after the Queen found out that her young child had been fathered by Sebastian. When Marguerite visited the Convento de Nossa Senhora da Esperança, or the Convent of our Lady of Hope, in 1582 to survey its installations, a young novice was kept out of her sight and never met the Queen. Some historians have suggested the girl, called Maria in some documents, was Sebastian’s natural child by a noble lady, who had retired to the Convent in shame.
Raquel Soares de Oliveira suggested in her book A Rainha Margot, or The Queen Margot, that the Queen felt a possessive love for her husband and would “not admit to sharing him with anyone”. The hot-blood attributed to Marguerite, said to have been inherited by her Italian mother, made her feel jealous of any pretty woman in court, and would often ignore potential ladies-in-waiting that could become a rival for her in Sebastian’s affections. This was, perhaps, due to her having grown up watching her mother struggle against Diane de Poitiers, Henri II’s favorite mistress. According to João Carlos de Souza, Margarida’s personality was enough to ward off any prospective lovers.
Regardless, it’s impossible to ignore Sebastian’s attraction to men. Sebastian’s preferred activities, jousting and hunting, were seen as an attempt by the King to portray an image of hyper-masculinity, likely in response to his insecurity towards his homosexual tendencies. During many nights of his years, the King was seen to have woken up during the night and taken long walks in the woods next to the Palace in Sintra, woods so thick that they are frightening even during the day. According to many, Sebastian would use those walks to meet with potential lovers, away from the eyes of his wife, children, and God. Once, Sebastian was found in the embrace of a young black man, with his weak excuse of having confused the other with a boar not being believed by many. It’s important to note that the death of Sebastian’s favorite, Dom Álvaro de Castro, who had once been his pageboy, was a blow to Sebastian; many times, he was seen walking to Álvaro’s grave, talking and returning with tears on his eyes.
If Margaret was aware of those walks, she did nothing to stop them. In fact, her rare fights with Sebastian were never about his possible affairs, but rather about either Catherine of Austria or their children. The couple had eight surviving children, with at least two miscarriages and one stillbirth scattered across twenty years of marriage. At first, both were young parents with little knowledge of child-rearing, turning to Catherine of Austria for help, but over the years, Margaret fought more and more for custody of her children. By the birth of their last child, Infanta Beatriz in 1580, it was the Queen who hired and fired tutors, servants, and nurses; anyone who may have come in contact with the royal children was under intense scrutiny from her.
A loving and devoted mother, Margaret sought to make herself the most important person in her children’s lives. Their nursery and rooms were close to her own quarters, and she paid much attention to their studies and health. Although many at court, including Catherine Habsburg, thought the Queen ought to be continually pregnant as to ensure the succession, the subtle spacing between each pregnancy and birth led many to believe Margaret breastfed her children herself. As breastfeeding among royals was not common, and even discouraged, in the sixteenth century, it’s unlikely that Margaret nursed the Infantes and Infantas herself, though she did nurse them through their illness, putting her health at great risk.
In the eighties, a letter was found, written by the tutor of the Infantes, the Jesuit priest Carlos Magalhães, regarding the routine followed daily by his charges and their sisters in the year 1585. The letter’s remarkable condition and content allowed modern historians to see Margaret Valois in a new light, with many drawing links between her and mothers in the late 20th century.
The routine is as follows, translated from Old Portuguese to modern English:
6h00: The children would be wakened by servants and then prepared for breakfast, which they’d have with their mother, the Queen.
7h30-8h30: The Infantes would attend mass with their father and mother, alongside most of the royal court.
9h00-12h00: The Infantes would meet with me for their lessons.
12h15-13h00: The royal children would have lunch with their mother, who made sure to attend every meal with her family.
13h-15h00: The children would have two hours of recreation, mostly spent playing games amongst each other.
15h00-17h00: I’d once more meet with the Infantes for lessons.
17h00-19h00: The King and Queen had supper and private family time with the children.
19h00-20h00: The children prepared for bed.
20h00: The children were put to bed.
Carlos’s reports allow historians to see how Sebastian and Margaret formed close bonds with their children, even during their childhood years. By refusing to allow his heirs to be raised in their own households outside of the palace, done in part because of his own lonely upbringing, Sebastian guaranteed his sons would never participate in rebellions against him and each other, due to the deep familial love felt by all.
Both Sebastião and Marguerite felt they knew what was best for their children, which provoked few, but memorable fights between them. Despite the severity of these arguments, they would always find cause to reconcile. If not for them, then for their Infantes and Infantas, whom they loved very much.
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Hey, guys, just wanna say that this is my first timeline, and I'm not as well versed in European history as I'd have liked. My knowledge so far is focused on a handful of countries, but I'm well aware that usually, these threadmarks go to all corners of this world because of butterflies.
So basically what I'm doing here is asking if anyone got some ideas to share. I've plans to a few countries (Portugal, Brazil, England, Scotland, Spain and France), but I'd like to tackle some more like Poland, maybe the Ottomans, Austria. If anyone would like to help little old me, that'd be great, and I'd be more than grateful <3
So basically what I'm doing here is asking if anyone got some ideas to share. I've plans to a few countries (Portugal, Brazil, England, Scotland, Spain and France), but I'd like to tackle some more like Poland, maybe the Ottomans, Austria. If anyone would like to help little old me, that'd be great, and I'd be more than grateful <3
Chapter Five - Mary Stuart
Mary Stuart had been Queen of Scotland since her infancy. Her father, King James V, died just six days after her birth, reportedly from drinking contaminated water during his war campaign. According to legend, upon hearing that his wife had given birth to a daughter, King James, on his deathbed, said “It cam wi’ a lass and it will gang wi’ a lass!”. The House of Stuart had gained the throne of Scotland via the marriage of Marjorie Bruce to Walter Stewart, 6th High Steward of Scotland. The throne came to them through a woman and would be lost through a woman.
Although this tale has been reported first by John Knox, a protestant adversary of Mary, it was easy for the Scottish regents of the young queen to fear their kingdom coming into the hands of foreign with her marriage. Her first betrothal came when she was only six months old, with Mary being promised to Edward of Wales, only surviving son of Henry VII, and the repudiation of said betrothal led to the war called the Rough Wooing (December 1543 - March 1551). Henry VII, angry at losing the opportunity to unite the two British kingdoms, raided the Scottish border. These series of conflicts greatly weakened the Scots and led to Mary being sent to France at age five for her protection and a new marriage with the young dauphin, called Francis
Mary spent thirteen years of her life in France, being raised alongside the children of Henry II and Catherine de’ Medici, and this would have a lasting effect on her. She was a devoted catholic and, for years afterward, would maintain French customs. Her household was organized according to the French way, even after her return to Scotland upon Francis’ death in 1560, and she signed her name using the French version. All her personal letters were written in French as well. By spending most of her formative years on French soil, under French attendants and tutors, she had become one of them. Màiri Stewart, Bànrigh na h-Alba became Marie Stuart, Reine d’Écosse.
When Mary returned to Scotland, she found a very different country than the one she had been raised in. Scotland had become largely protestant, perhaps due in part to the influence they suffered from the neighbors in the south, and the decisions made by her mother during her tenure as regent had not gained her many friends in her court. Many in her realm thought that a catholic woman had no right to rule their country, with John Knox saying “To promote a woman to bear rule, superiority, dominion, or empire above any realm, nation, or city is repugnant to nature”.
Although this tale has been reported first by John Knox, a protestant adversary of Mary, it was easy for the Scottish regents of the young queen to fear their kingdom coming into the hands of foreign with her marriage. Her first betrothal came when she was only six months old, with Mary being promised to Edward of Wales, only surviving son of Henry VII, and the repudiation of said betrothal led to the war called the Rough Wooing (December 1543 - March 1551). Henry VII, angry at losing the opportunity to unite the two British kingdoms, raided the Scottish border. These series of conflicts greatly weakened the Scots and led to Mary being sent to France at age five for her protection and a new marriage with the young dauphin, called Francis
Mary spent thirteen years of her life in France, being raised alongside the children of Henry II and Catherine de’ Medici, and this would have a lasting effect on her. She was a devoted catholic and, for years afterward, would maintain French customs. Her household was organized according to the French way, even after her return to Scotland upon Francis’ death in 1560, and she signed her name using the French version. All her personal letters were written in French as well. By spending most of her formative years on French soil, under French attendants and tutors, she had become one of them. Màiri Stewart, Bànrigh na h-Alba became Marie Stuart, Reine d’Écosse.
When Mary returned to Scotland, she found a very different country than the one she had been raised in. Scotland had become largely protestant, perhaps due in part to the influence they suffered from the neighbors in the south, and the decisions made by her mother during her tenure as regent had not gained her many friends in her court. Many in her realm thought that a catholic woman had no right to rule their country, with John Knox saying “To promote a woman to bear rule, superiority, dominion, or empire above any realm, nation, or city is repugnant to nature”.
A 19th-century engraving of John Knox.
Her second marriage was thus a matter of state since her first failed to produce any children. Mary needed an heir of her own blood, preferably male, to secure her rule. Although a ruling queen had no shortage of suitors, Mary chose to marry her cousin, Henry Stuart, whose arrogant behavior angered many of the Scottish nobles already wary of the Queen. Henry, like Mary, had a blood claim to the English through their shared grandmother, Margaret Tudor, which meant that any children they had would have English royal descendancy through both maternal and paternal lines. The marriage between Mary and Lord Darnley also drove a wedge between Mary and her half-brother, the Earl of Moray.
Although the marriage had been one based on love (or rather, lust), Mary and Henry quickly became estranged. After rumors abound in the court that Mary, at the time pregnant with her son James, was having an affair with her private secretary, David Rizzio, Lord Darnley demanded his exile. Mary, after much argument, agreed, and David Rizzio was sent to Italy in late 1566, although he and Mary would exchange letters for the rest of their lives.
The birth of Mary Margaret during a time in which they were still estranged caused many at her court to doubt the legitimacy of the young Princess. Reportedly, upon hearing that the Queen was with child once more, John Knox said “Of course Her Majesty is. She strives to be like her namesake, our Lord’s mother”, implying that the pregnancy was, like the Virgin Mary’s, an immaculate conception driven by the Queen not sleeping with her husband. Although he never outrighted said that Mary Stuart was conducting an affair, his words all but implied it.
Despite the estrangement between the couple, it was Lord Darnley who put an end to these rumors. At the feast following Mary Margaret’s christening, on February 04th, he was heard by many recounting the tale of her conception. According to the Duke of Albany, the Princess was conceived on a cold night of April, when “The Queen longed for my English arms to warm her”. Despite her displeasure at his course language, Mary Stuart certainly must have been pleased to find this ended all gossip surrounding her infant daughter.
Henry Stuart, Lord Darnley, didn’t perform any other acts of kindness or goodwill towards his wife. After he retired from court in February, a week after the baptism of his daughter, Mary rarely saw him again. He preferred the arms of his mistress, Lady Isobel Beaton, who was the niece of one of the mistresses of James V, Mary’s father. He moved to the Holyrood Palace, where he’d spend the rest of his life. He rarely saw his legitimate children, who spent most of the time with their mother, and died in 1571 from what today is believed to be appendicitis.
The year following her separation with Darnley was a hard one for Mary, but she fought to come out on top. With the suggestion of her former mother-in-law, Catherine de’ Medici, Mary recalled her son James, the Duke of Rothesay, to her own custody. As was the tradition at the time, in 1567, James had been given to the Earl of Mar, who had once been the guardian of both his mother and grandfather and lived with him at Stirling Castle. On the 30th of March of 1570, Mary requested that the Earl of Mar to move James to her own residence on the Edinburgh Castle, ostensibly so he could meet his sister and form a bond with her.
James of Scotland, Duke of Rothesay by Arnold Bronckorst.
The Earl of Mar was a protestant and, although he was one of the supporters of Mary’s marriage to Darnley, his custody of the crown prince was seen as a bargaining chip against Mary from her enemies. Mar couldn’t refuse the Queen’s request and, by the middle of April, he had obeyed her request. Although he perhaps thought that this changing of guardian would not take long, Mary delayed James’ return for as long as she could, often complaining of his poor health (which many thought to be untrue) or his sister’s adoration of him. When the summer ended, it had become clear to all that the Earl of Mar would no longer be James’ custodian and he left Edinburgh Castle in August, without the boy.
The powerful protestants of Scotland, who had long feared Mary would become like her cousin, Mary Tudor, called the Bloody Mary, were enraged at the loss of the heir. If a protestant lord like Mar raised James, then he could be controlled, and his mother’s reign would be seen as nothing more of a nuisance to be passed. With James under the control of Mary, and the arrival of Italian and French tutors in Edinburgh to educate the two children, it had become clear that Mary strived to raise her son and daughter as she had been raised in France. The continuation of a catholic monarchy suddenly became a very real possibility.
At the end of 1570, after long negotiations between the two countries, Mary announced the betrothal of her son to Infanta Catherine Michelle of Spain, daughter of King Philip II. Scotland had been weak since the Rough Wooing and undoubtedly, Mary thought a Spanish dowry would fill her coffers with much-needed gold. If that is how Mary hoped her subjects would see the match, then she failed. With a current catholic queen educating the two heirs to be catholic, a marriage with an European superpower known for its strong religion was seen as the last straw. When 1571 began, it was clear to all: civil war was brewing in Scotland.
The powerful protestants of Scotland, who had long feared Mary would become like her cousin, Mary Tudor, called the Bloody Mary, were enraged at the loss of the heir. If a protestant lord like Mar raised James, then he could be controlled, and his mother’s reign would be seen as nothing more of a nuisance to be passed. With James under the control of Mary, and the arrival of Italian and French tutors in Edinburgh to educate the two children, it had become clear that Mary strived to raise her son and daughter as she had been raised in France. The continuation of a catholic monarchy suddenly became a very real possibility.
At the end of 1570, after long negotiations between the two countries, Mary announced the betrothal of her son to Infanta Catherine Michelle of Spain, daughter of King Philip II. Scotland had been weak since the Rough Wooing and undoubtedly, Mary thought a Spanish dowry would fill her coffers with much-needed gold. If that is how Mary hoped her subjects would see the match, then she failed. With a current catholic queen educating the two heirs to be catholic, a marriage with an European superpower known for its strong religion was seen as the last straw. When 1571 began, it was clear to all: civil war was brewing in Scotland.
Infantas Isabella Clara Eugenia and Catherine Michelle of Spain by Sofonisba Anguissola.
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Chapter Six - Portuguese Heirs
“The maids dropped to their knees as soon as they saw me, carrying piles of sheets and towels, dirty and clean, on their thin arms. The chorus of Vossa Majestade filled the chamber, the Queen’s private bedroom, and I did my best to acknowledge them, nodding to the midwives, but my heart pulled me away. Shaking, I looked to the bed, the curtains pulled away, and saw her. Margarida de Valois, my wife, my beautiful wife, was leaning on the pillows, holding a white bundle. She had a smile on her face, cheeks red with exertion and hair sweaty.
I stepped forward, my entire body trembling, and sat beside her on the bed. A red arm slipped from the swaddling, my eyes peeking at the reddish scrunched face. The eyes were still closed, I saw, and the mouth was curved in an angry pout.
“Margarida? Minha pérola?” I called, looking at my wife. My heart was thrumming inside my chest, threatening to slip away, and I couldn’t help but notice the exhaustion stamped on Margarida’s face. She had bags under her eyes after weeks of poor sleep from the baby, and she seemed so thin. My avó said she ought to eat more and rest more, but Margarida did anything she could to go against the Dowager Queen. Sometimes, it was endearing, but now, it only made me worry more for her, “Are you well?”
She turned to me and I could see her face better. She was smiling, beaming, and nodded, biting her lower lip. In my eyes, Margarida was the most beautiful woman in the world, with her dark eyes and curls, and no one could be nearly as attractive to me as she was. Even that day, barely hours after giving birth, there was something about her that made my heart swell.
“Yes, mon amour,” she said and I felt the tension seeping off my shoulders. Every time it came time for her to bring our children into the world, I couldn’t stop thinking about my aunt, Maria Manuela, who had given birth to her son, only to die four days later of hemorrhage, “Look at your beautiful son, Sebastião. Our own Prince of Portugal.”
She smiled as she handed me the swaddling, and I felt my heart stopping as I took hold of the child. Barely two years earlier, we had done the same for my darling Catarina, but this time, it was different. This time, the child I held was a boy and, the Lord willing, future King of Portugal.
He was much smaller than his sister, but I told myself not to worry. The child had pink cheeks and breathed easily, eyes closed as he slept, certainly tired after being born. He seemed healthy as far as I knew and could live for a hundred years. He settled nicely on my arms, leaning his tiny little cheek against my chest, and I thought about how my doublet was not made from soft materials. Could it hurt him? I didn’t want my son to feel pain on his first day on this Earth, but I also couldn’t move him. I was worried, so worried, that if I tried to move him away from my chest, he’d waken and cry. I remember clearly what they told me when my Infanta was born, that a baby’s health needed them to sleep well. If they are sleeping well and feeding well, then there is nothing to worry about. Oh, Santa Maria, why had I not picked my silks to wear today?
I could feel everyone looking at me and wondered what expression I had on. Certainly, one of worry and stress, but was I not allowed to be stressed? I had a new child, a son, and wasn’t this what everyone expected of me since the day I married Margarida? I raised my eyes briefly, just to tell them what was on my mind, but as I did, my eyes met my wife’s and all the words died on my lips. It took a second, or maybe an entire minute, for me to be able to speak again, “He doesn’t look like Catarina.”
Margarida laughed and some of the older women present huffed, certainly disappointed by a lack of respect towards the King, but I didn’t care. Let her laugh, I thought, for if she laughed, then she was well, and the birth would not kill her as it has killed so many others in our families.
“No, he doesn’t, although this hardly matters,” she said, “Catarina took after my Italian grandparents, I think, but this baby is all Avis. He is all you.”
I looked at the baby again, knowing she was right. Although his face was still swollen and scrunched, I could feel in my heart how, as he grew, he would look more and more like myself. He had my nose and chin, reddish hair dusted on his head. If he opened his eyes, they’d be blue like mine, instead of Margarida’s dark brown.
My thoughts went to my mother. When we met, after Margarida’s months-long insistence to invite her to the baptism, she said I looked like my father. That I had his hair and posture, alongside his smile. I had grown up looking at the portraits of Prince João Manuel, wondering about the man who died just two weeks before my birth, and the idea of looking like him was extremely pleasing. For years, I asked myself if he would love me, if he would be proud of me. When my mother sees this child, she will surely say he looks like I did at birth, but my grandmother, who had given birth to João Manuel, what would she say?
She’ll say that he looks like his grandfather, the heir-apparent who never got to be King, and that was enough to make up my mind.
“Shall you name him after you?” Margarida asks, leaning in.
“No,” I say, looking at my child, “We will call him João Manuel.””
Infante João Manuel of Portugal by Sancho Coelho.Prince João Manuel of Portugal was born on October 21st of 1570, the fiftieth anniversary of the discovery of the Strait of Magellan in South America by portuguese explorer Fernão de Magalhães. As such, the date was considered both an auspicious and unlucky date for many, as Fernão had completed the circumnavigation of Earth under King Charles I of Spain after being rejected by King Manuel I of Portugal. Many felt it dangerous to even acknowledge such a fact to Sebastian, as it could provoke his anger over the failures of his ancestors.
Surprising everyone in his court, Sebastian mentioned the event to João I, Duke of Bragança, by saying, “The victories of every Portuguese are our own, no matter their allegiance. Isn’t it curious how the Lord showed this to me by giving a son to Portugal?”
The boy was christened after his grandfather, Prince João Manuel, who had died before King Sebastian was born. There are some reports who show that Sebastian wished for his son to ascend to the throne as João Manuel I, instead of João IV, although this has been debated.
As the firstborn son of the King of Portugal, João Manuel became heir-apparent to his father’s throne as soon as he was born. He displaced both his sister and their cousin, Duarte Duke of Guimarães, the only other male heir of the Avis dynasty left.
For many years, Duarte Avis had enjoyed a high position in the Portuguese court. After Infante-Cardinal Henry, he was an heir presumptive to the throne, and many saw him as a possible rival for Sebastian. As a member of the State Council, he voted, in 1566, for the marriage of King Sebastian to Margaret of Valois, and may have thought the King would be thankful for his support. Instead, King Sebastian was jealous of his status as a possible heir and several times showed disrespect for Duarte's rank. Upset by this, Duarte retired from court in 1570 to Évora, before the birth of Prince João Manuel, and didn’t attend the christening.
At the beginning of 1571, however, Sebastian summoned Duarte to court. Hoping for a reconciliation with his cousin, Duarte accepted the summons, returning to the Ribeira Palace in February. Instead of open arms, Sebastian welcomed his vassal with an order: Duarte would travel to Brazil, the large Portuguese colony in the Americas, where he would become its governor. If Duarte was offended by the command, he quickly changed his mind when Sebastian finished explaining himself. Since 1569, Sebastian had been hoping to expand his territory in the new world and, encouraged by his wife, decided to use his cousin to do so.
Duarte’s role in the Americas was not only to rule the hereditary Captaincies implemented by John III but also, somehow, to find a way to break the Treaty of Tordesillas without incurring the wrath of Spain. It would be a delicate task and a show of affection and trust from the King. Despite his own misgivings, Duarte accepted and, in March of 1571, embarked to Brazil, never to return.
A 16th-century portrait of a Portuguese nobleman thought to be Duarte, Duke of Guimarães.
I stepped forward, my entire body trembling, and sat beside her on the bed. A red arm slipped from the swaddling, my eyes peeking at the reddish scrunched face. The eyes were still closed, I saw, and the mouth was curved in an angry pout.
“Margarida? Minha pérola?” I called, looking at my wife. My heart was thrumming inside my chest, threatening to slip away, and I couldn’t help but notice the exhaustion stamped on Margarida’s face. She had bags under her eyes after weeks of poor sleep from the baby, and she seemed so thin. My avó said she ought to eat more and rest more, but Margarida did anything she could to go against the Dowager Queen. Sometimes, it was endearing, but now, it only made me worry more for her, “Are you well?”
She turned to me and I could see her face better. She was smiling, beaming, and nodded, biting her lower lip. In my eyes, Margarida was the most beautiful woman in the world, with her dark eyes and curls, and no one could be nearly as attractive to me as she was. Even that day, barely hours after giving birth, there was something about her that made my heart swell.
“Yes, mon amour,” she said and I felt the tension seeping off my shoulders. Every time it came time for her to bring our children into the world, I couldn’t stop thinking about my aunt, Maria Manuela, who had given birth to her son, only to die four days later of hemorrhage, “Look at your beautiful son, Sebastião. Our own Prince of Portugal.”
She smiled as she handed me the swaddling, and I felt my heart stopping as I took hold of the child. Barely two years earlier, we had done the same for my darling Catarina, but this time, it was different. This time, the child I held was a boy and, the Lord willing, future King of Portugal.
He was much smaller than his sister, but I told myself not to worry. The child had pink cheeks and breathed easily, eyes closed as he slept, certainly tired after being born. He seemed healthy as far as I knew and could live for a hundred years. He settled nicely on my arms, leaning his tiny little cheek against my chest, and I thought about how my doublet was not made from soft materials. Could it hurt him? I didn’t want my son to feel pain on his first day on this Earth, but I also couldn’t move him. I was worried, so worried, that if I tried to move him away from my chest, he’d waken and cry. I remember clearly what they told me when my Infanta was born, that a baby’s health needed them to sleep well. If they are sleeping well and feeding well, then there is nothing to worry about. Oh, Santa Maria, why had I not picked my silks to wear today?
I could feel everyone looking at me and wondered what expression I had on. Certainly, one of worry and stress, but was I not allowed to be stressed? I had a new child, a son, and wasn’t this what everyone expected of me since the day I married Margarida? I raised my eyes briefly, just to tell them what was on my mind, but as I did, my eyes met my wife’s and all the words died on my lips. It took a second, or maybe an entire minute, for me to be able to speak again, “He doesn’t look like Catarina.”
Margarida laughed and some of the older women present huffed, certainly disappointed by a lack of respect towards the King, but I didn’t care. Let her laugh, I thought, for if she laughed, then she was well, and the birth would not kill her as it has killed so many others in our families.
“No, he doesn’t, although this hardly matters,” she said, “Catarina took after my Italian grandparents, I think, but this baby is all Avis. He is all you.”
I looked at the baby again, knowing she was right. Although his face was still swollen and scrunched, I could feel in my heart how, as he grew, he would look more and more like myself. He had my nose and chin, reddish hair dusted on his head. If he opened his eyes, they’d be blue like mine, instead of Margarida’s dark brown.
My thoughts went to my mother. When we met, after Margarida’s months-long insistence to invite her to the baptism, she said I looked like my father. That I had his hair and posture, alongside his smile. I had grown up looking at the portraits of Prince João Manuel, wondering about the man who died just two weeks before my birth, and the idea of looking like him was extremely pleasing. For years, I asked myself if he would love me, if he would be proud of me. When my mother sees this child, she will surely say he looks like I did at birth, but my grandmother, who had given birth to João Manuel, what would she say?
She’ll say that he looks like his grandfather, the heir-apparent who never got to be King, and that was enough to make up my mind.
“Shall you name him after you?” Margarida asks, leaning in.
“No,” I say, looking at my child, “We will call him João Manuel.””
-- Translated excerpt from King of Spades by Maria Luísa de Amaro, a historical fiction novel about King Sebastian I of Portugal.
Infante João Manuel of Portugal by Sancho Coelho.
Surprising everyone in his court, Sebastian mentioned the event to João I, Duke of Bragança, by saying, “The victories of every Portuguese are our own, no matter their allegiance. Isn’t it curious how the Lord showed this to me by giving a son to Portugal?”
The boy was christened after his grandfather, Prince João Manuel, who had died before King Sebastian was born. There are some reports who show that Sebastian wished for his son to ascend to the throne as João Manuel I, instead of João IV, although this has been debated.
As the firstborn son of the King of Portugal, João Manuel became heir-apparent to his father’s throne as soon as he was born. He displaced both his sister and their cousin, Duarte Duke of Guimarães, the only other male heir of the Avis dynasty left.
For many years, Duarte Avis had enjoyed a high position in the Portuguese court. After Infante-Cardinal Henry, he was an heir presumptive to the throne, and many saw him as a possible rival for Sebastian. As a member of the State Council, he voted, in 1566, for the marriage of King Sebastian to Margaret of Valois, and may have thought the King would be thankful for his support. Instead, King Sebastian was jealous of his status as a possible heir and several times showed disrespect for Duarte's rank. Upset by this, Duarte retired from court in 1570 to Évora, before the birth of Prince João Manuel, and didn’t attend the christening.
At the beginning of 1571, however, Sebastian summoned Duarte to court. Hoping for a reconciliation with his cousin, Duarte accepted the summons, returning to the Ribeira Palace in February. Instead of open arms, Sebastian welcomed his vassal with an order: Duarte would travel to Brazil, the large Portuguese colony in the Americas, where he would become its governor. If Duarte was offended by the command, he quickly changed his mind when Sebastian finished explaining himself. Since 1569, Sebastian had been hoping to expand his territory in the new world and, encouraged by his wife, decided to use his cousin to do so.
Duarte’s role in the Americas was not only to rule the hereditary Captaincies implemented by John III but also, somehow, to find a way to break the Treaty of Tordesillas without incurring the wrath of Spain. It would be a delicate task and a show of affection and trust from the King. Despite his own misgivings, Duarte accepted and, in March of 1571, embarked to Brazil, never to return.
A 16th-century portrait of a Portuguese nobleman thought to be Duarte, Duke of Guimarães.
Glad to see Sebastião and Margarida have a son at last! Though I’m worried about Duarte. ‘never to return’ sounds rather ominous.
Also, mad respect to Mary Stuart’s hustle in getting Catherine Michaela for her son. Maybe she’ll be able to keep her throne ITTL?
In regards to Catherine Michelle being the future Duchess of Rothesay, let's just say you should thank Elisabeth of Valois instead of Mary.
marktaha
Banned
Read about him in the Schoolboys Annual for 1969. Gave me idea for "Did he survive?" TV series- there were people pretending to be him.Sebastian will not die as he did in our world. I hope to make him a little smarter
So this time he won't invade Morocco?
He won't invade Morocco. I honestly think that was such a dumb idea, and hopefully, with a wife and children at home who need him, there's no need for him to prove himself.
It's actually meant to sound ominous, but I'd honestly say not to worry. I'm trying to give him a happier life than he had OTL.
I’m glad things seem better for Mary in this TL, and Rizzio too! Catalina Micaela is easily the grandest match ever acquired by any Scottish monarch. But this will certainly further antagonize Scottish Protestants and the English. Whatever consequences she has to face I really hope she doesn’t end up like in OTL. Great uptade!
Chapter Seven - French Peace
Anna of Austria, Queen of France.
At first, her parents planned for her to marry their Spanish cousin, Don Carlos, Prince of Asturias, but after his death in 1568, and the birth of another male heir in 1569 to Philip II’s French wife, they had to abandon these plans. In early 1569, the Emperor was approached by the Maréchal de la Vielleville in regards to a marriage between Anna and Charles and agreed only after much consideration. Empress Maria was against the marriage, as she feared for her daughter’s religion in a court “overrun with heretics”, and refused to acknowledge it, failing to say goodbye to Anna when she left for Paris. It’s said that Maximilian only agreed after being urged to do so by his cousin and brother-in-law, King Philip II of Spain, who was married to Charles’ sister, Elisabeth.
Regardless of her parents’ feelings towards the match, Anna was married by proxy in 1570 at a ceremony in Vienna, where her younger brother Rudolf stood for Charles. The Austrian celebration also included a ceremony where the two siblings were put to their marriage bed before Rudolf left for his own rooms in another wing of the castle. Anna left Vienna in June of 1570 and arrived on French soil in August, amidst many celebrations. Due to bad weather, the decision was made to have formal greetings between the French and Austrians in the small border town of Meziéres. She was greeted there by her husband’s two brothers, Henry and Francis, the Dukes of Anjou and Alençon respectively, and her new mother-in-law, Catherine de’ Medici. The Queen Mother was long decided to be the real power behind the throne and the marriage, so her approval was much necessary for Anne, as she was now called, to succeed in Paris.
Anne Habsburg surprised her in-laws by speaking perfect French, even asking Queen Catherine if she would prefer the use of Italian, which she also knew. In a letter to her son, who had stayed in Paris because of his poor health, Catherine described Anne as “a perfect princess, worthy consort of a king such as yourself. She came to visit me as I prepared for bed, and asked how I felt, worried for my constitution in such rains.” Henry and Francis also wrote positive letters to their brother about the new queen, whom they describe as the jewel of the world, a rose without thorns.
Anxious by these reports, Charles secretly traveled to Meziéres at the end of October to see his new wife for himself and was enchanted with the young archduchess, who had blonde hair, flawless white skin, and light blue eyes. The next day, he made his official introduction, after having dressed as a soldier to see her without the constraints of royalty. The Austrian priest, Matthias Bauer, who came with Anne to serve as her confessor, reported in a letter to her father that Anne and Charles “spent the entire day together, ignoring the chaperones around them. It’s as if no one else existed, but the King and your daughter.”
Charles IX, King of France.
Anne also took advantage of the meeting to beg Charles for the pardoning of a religious prisoner, Jean Delacour, whose family had accosted her during a walk she had in Meziéres, begging for mercy for the man. The future queen had promised to do her utmost to free the man, who had been arrested on charges of heresy and slander against the royal family. Charles refused and had Delacour hanged as soon as he arrived in Paris on 15 of November, reportedly giving the order while he had Anne sitting by his side.
Although some historians report this incident to have chilled and soured the relations between Charles and Anne, the Queen described herself as radiant and “happier than I have ever been” in a letter written to her father on the day of their wedding. King Charles IX of France and Archduchess Anna of Austria were formally married on 26 November 1570 in Paris, at the Notre Dame Cathedral, with the Cardinal de Bourbon performing the ceremony.
Despite fears for Charles’ frail health, the marriage was consummated that same evening, with a guard reporting to Dowager Queen Catherine having overheard sounds of pleasure from the couple throughout the night. Five months later, Queen Anne announced her first pregnancy.
The certain monarchy Anne left behind in Austria couldn’t compare to the shaky ground where Charles and his family stood. The French Wars of Religion had been ongoing for nearly a decade and the prestige of the Valois dynasty was in steep decline. Her wedding resulted in the escalation of conflicts, especially between the catholic Valois and the Huguenot Bourbons, led by Jeanne d’Albret, Queen of Navarre, who were possible heirs of the French crown. If the sons of Catherine failed to have boys of their own, then the crown would pass to the protestant prince Henry of Navarre, son of Jeanne d’Albret. Despite her considerable dowry, France faced serious financial difficulties and the military position of the Huguenots was strong, with them controlling the fortified towns of La Rochelle, La Charité-sur-Loire, Cognac, and Montauban.
As such, the birth of Dauphin Henri in 1571 was met with mixed feelings throughout France. Traditional Catholics celebrated, while the Huguenots feared for a continuation of the Valois monarchy. Knowing France couldn’t survive the continuing war, Catherine de’ Medici had long tried to end the war with compromises and, to ensure her grandson inherited a peaceful kingdom, worked to reach an agreement with Jeanne d’Albret. Since her three daughters were already married, she decided to attempt a betrothal between one of her younger sons and Catherine de Bourbon, Jeanne’s young daughter.
Henry Valois, Duke of Anjou was her first option for the match. Second-in-line to the throne and her favorite child, Catherine de’ Medici certainly thought he would be able to control the Navarrese princess. These plans, however, never came to fruition as, in 1572, Henry was chosen to be the new king of Poland as Henryk III and made a solemn vow to marry his predecessor’s young daughter, Princess Jadwiga of Poland. After his departure from France in 1573, Catherine turned her eyes to her youngest son, Francis of Alençon.
Scarred by smallpox and deformed, Francis was not seen as an attractive match by the greatest European monarchs, but, as the younger brother and possible heir to two separate kings, his value in the market greatly increased. With the promise of a ceasefire in hostilities, and an oath to not force young Catherine, four years’ her intended junior, to convert to catholicism, Jeanne d’Albret agreed to the match. The match was seen disfavorably by many in Europe, including in the papacy, and Kings Philip II of Spain and Sebastian I of Portugal, brothers-in-law to Charles and Francis were opposed to the match. With the disfavor of the powerful Catholic family, the Guises, and the Huguenot leader, Admiral Gaspard de Coligny, being readmitted into the king's council in September 1571, many feared a possible conversion of the King. In 1573, the wedding date was set to the 18th of August, 1575.
Jeanne d'Albret, Queen of Navarre.
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I was very hesitant to write the Valois dynasty continuing, but I also knew I wanted Henry III to remain in Poland, so that meant Charles IX had to have a son so *shrugs* sometimes we don't have a choice.
Also, this update was very quick because I'm really excited to write Henry in Poland, so we may have another update in the coming days. We'll see!
Also, this update was very quick because I'm really excited to write Henry in Poland, so we may have another update in the coming days. We'll see!
Absolutely *loving* this timeline! Such great work! Can't wait to see what becomes of Henryk in Poland!
Do not worry. Henry staying in Poland and no Bourbons in France is a great thing
Thanks! I was more hesitant because I already made the Avis family continue, so another great house surviving in the male line sounded like pushing my luck lol but I really wanted to have a polish branch of the Valois, like the spanish and Austrian habsburgs which left me with little choice
Considering how crazy and unlikely was the OTL end of the Valois their survival is not so strange. And the Avis’ extinction was directly tied to Sebastian dying without marrying but both his death and unmarried status were easy to prevent