"...My life has been an unending torture, a litany of punishments..."
--Charles Stuart, Earl of Lennox, in a letter to his wife, 1568
"...The cause of your complaints lies in your own nature--stupid, lustful, (and) utterly without merit..."
--From her reply, same year
1558
--As the year begins, Tzar Ivan of Russia begins his invasion of the Livonian Dominions. His force advances with shocking ease as von Furstenberg again demonstrates that he's crap whenever he doesn't have overwhelming odds on his side. He flees to Poland, leaving the command and leadership of the pathetic remnant of the Livonian Order to Gotthard Kettler. Sigismund Augustus--still gathering the forces he will need to take on Russia--requests assistance from Emperor Ferdinand, whose response is to cup a hand over his ear, and say 'What? What was that? I'm sorry, can't hear you.' (Metaphorically speaking of course.) Much of the ease of Ivan's progress comes from the fact that many Livonians welcome the Russians as liberators from their tyrannical Germanic overlords.
The poor, poor saps.
--In Scotland, Margaret Douglas, Dowager Countess of Lennox, introduces her little King-in-the-making, Charles Stuart to the court. Margaret has hopes to tie her son to his rival his rival prospective Catholic claimant, Antoinette--especially with the growing movement to have the sisters wed Scots, thus avoiding foreign trouble--and instructs the Earl of Lennox to gain her friendship and affection. This is well within his power--young Charles Stuart may not do much well, but in womanizing he's actually ahead of the curve for his age. Once she gets past the fact that a handsome boy is talking to her, Antoinette finds Lennox to be cruel, greedy, and arrogant--so naturally they hit it off brilliantly. Soon, he is accompanying her everywhere. And that is how he is introduced to Mary.
To say Mary takes a shine to him would be an exaggeration--however, she quickly realizes that showering favors on the boy is a good way to get her little sister's goat. A couple of weeks of this and the gears in Charles Stuart's head begin to turn, in their own slow, dull way. Marriage to Antoinette would be good for his status. Marriage to Mary, a bonified Queen, would be better. And so, the young Earl of Lennox begins to suck up to the Queen of Scots like he's never sucked up to anybody before. After a week, this gets boring, so he flat out asks her to marry him.
This is a move of unprecedented foolishness. Mary politely declines, reminding of her present engagement to Prince Charles Valois, and bids him away. Still--this would not necessarily be a total loss. Mary is interperting the whole thing as a youthful infatuation, and thus is naturally quite flattered--indeed, it's possible that Lennox could use the good feelings to make another, more successful bid for Mary's hand years later. After all, as she has noted to James, 'he is a very pretty boy'. However, that's not what happens. No, what happens is that very afternoon Antoinette rushes into her sister and begins to beg her to please, please let her marry Lennox, as he has just proposed to her. Mary is somewhat taken aback, and begins to quiz her sister. You see, Lennox is... a calculating boy in his own stupid way, and figures that one always needs a fallback. Oh, he's been pursuing Mary--but he's also kept up matters with Antoinette. In fact, he's regularly gone from a meeting with one to a meeting with the other on the same day, using the same compliments. Needless to say, both are bitterly offended--and Mary finds that all of Lennox's attentions suddenly no longer look like the sweet flirtations of a naive boy, but the rather naked manipulations of an aspiring--and clumsy--political player. And so, she arranges for... a little chat between herself and the young Earl. And her sister.
Suffice to say, when it is over, Charles Stuart's chance of marrying either sister is essentially nil. Indeed, his chances of being in the same room with Mary or Antoinette without having an urge to wet himself are also fairly low. And so the Earl of Lennox begins a lifelong habit of failing big.
--The Duke of Norfolk publishes something new--no, not another section of Brutus. This is a little something he's been working with on the side--his reply to Calvin, which he has decided to title 'The Freedom of the Christian Soul'. In it, he lays out his own religious position, which to the amazement of all who know him, is a great deal more complicated than 'Pope bad' and "John Calvin wrong". Norfolk has had many years to think about what he believes, and he has in fact done just that. The result is a fairly eloquent defense of the English Evangelical stance. While acknowledging Catholic excesses, he argues that the Reformed obsession with stripped down, "purified" rites is little more than the same mistake done in reverse. The most important thing in Christian worship is not the form of the rites--though naturally, a strong Church is needed to make sure they don't go in dangerous directions--but the relationship of the soul to God. If this is ensured, then things like images and richly decorated churches will not endanger Christian worship, but instead enhance it.
Calvin is dismissive of the pamphlet, calling Norfolk 'a mere English libertine'--Norfolk replies he adopts the name with pride--'for a soul in the liberty under God should be the aspiration of every Christian'. And so the two big camps of the Anglican Church now stand defined--the Puritans and the Libertines, both convinced they know what the Church of England needs and what has to be done.
--Archduke Ferdinand's illegitimate child is born--a son, who he names... Ferdinand. And that's not all--Ferdinand's wife Maria of Spain is also pregnant. And his brother Charles Francis is finally back home, after a lengthy, unpleasant sojourn in Spain. Yes, the Austrian House of Hapsburg is continuing to... well, continue.
--Margaret Tudor arrives in Wittenberg, joining her sister in time to greet Elector John Frederick back home from the war. Elizabethis overjoyed to be reunited with her husband and sister. Margaret gets to coo over Frederick Henry and his virtual foster brother, George von Hohenzollern, Margrave of Brandenburg-Kuhlmbach, all while being won over by the splendor of the Saxon court. And that is pretty damn splendid--like any German Prince, the Elector likes to throw money around, and he has the funds to let him do just that. And a pretext--King Philip of Spain has, after a great deal of internal debate, offered the Elector the Golden Fleece. John Frederick has refused, noting that he holds his highest loyalty to God and his Church which would make membership in that knightly order a conflict. Philip is somewhat relieved by this--I mean, he likes John Frederick, but the man is still a Protestant heretic, damn it--but still wants to do something. And so after more internal debate, he's come up with an acceptable compromise--he will make John Frederick's late father a Knight of the Golden Fleece. (This has not been easy for Philip, who remembers that John Frederick Senior spent much of his life fighting with his father--but then he is dead now. And while fighting the Turk, so really it can't be seen as unwarranted.) John Frederick finds this acceptable, and holds a great feast, inviting many of his allies in the Schmalkaldic League. Margaret watches all of this, awestruck. Elizabeth watches it all--and makes plans.
--Peace talks continue between France and the Hapsburgs, the latest Italian War continuing on paper even as it calms down in reality. As people agree to essentially continue in the direction they were going before that unpleasantness in Sardinia, a few new marriage contracts are undertaken. Emmanuel Philibert's eldest son and heir, Charles Emmanuel[1], is betrothed to Ferdinand II's eldest daughter, Anne. And in news that cheers the not-yet-Prince of Asturias' heart, there is talk of betrothing Charles to Henri's daughter Marguirete. Of course, as neither wishes to buy a pig in a poke both arrange for their respective ambassadors to meet the afore-mentioned individuals.
The Duke of Alba, serving as Spanish ambassador, is fortunate, and manages to meet all of Henri's children save for Claude, who is presently living in Lorraine with her fiance, and Henri of Orleans, who is away for reasons to be related shortly. Dauphin Francois, he notes, is a dull, sweet boy, very sickly and often 'incoherant of speech'. While his father Henri spends time looking for a bride for him, he does not do so with much urgency. Henri claims that it is because he fears that overtaxing himself in the marriage bed may ruin what health his heir has, but Alba notes (with usual combination of cunning and bluntness) that he is fairly certain the King is convinced that Francois will die shortly. Francois' deformed brother Charles is more active and forceful, but also sullen and rather vain, boasting openly how he will one day be King of Scotland. Henri is, in fact, preparing a trip for his son to meet his bride-to-be in Scotland. (Alba, aware of how things have gone in Scotland, is amused by all this.) Young Hercule and Victoria both seem pleasant enough, while Elizabeth--Henry of England's fiancee--is a sweet, timid girl, pretty, but hardly a raving beauty. And that leads us to Marguerite, her father's favorite, and already the great beauty of the family at five. The forbidding Alba notes favorably that if she lives up to a fraction of her potential, she will be a heartbreaker. He knows what he's talking about.
In Spain, the French ambassador deems Charles 'ugly, but amiable'--and even better, 'a simple, pliable soul'. The ambassador also notes that while he'd heard that Charles stutters, he saw no evidence of this in his talk, with the young Prince's only speech impediment being a slight difficulty with his ls and rs 'that he takes great pains to correct'. "He desires nothing but friendship between France and Spain, and was most agreeable on every subject, though much of his speech was vague, and wandering." (Years later, the ambassador will look back on this conversation, and smack his hand against his forehead several times.) Henri thinks all of that is most promising--especially when you add in the fact that Charles and his father appear to have something of a feud going on. Marguerite does not. She has heard rumors of the Spanish Prince's ugliness--legendary, even by Hapsburg standards--and doesn't particularly like the idea of being paired with him, even if he IS heir presumptive to half the world.
--Don Antonio, Prior of Crato, arrives in Malacca. The Malayasian Port is arguably the perfectly manifested metaphor for the glorious failure that is Portugal's overseas Empire. When the Portuguese arrived in the East, Malacca was the trading center for most of southeast Asia, ruled by a powerful, ancient sultanate--they quickly determined to make it theirs, and after a protracted invasion, succeeded. Since that time, Malacca has steadily declined in importance, as the traders move to new ports, while the straits that the Sultans of Malacca made safe become plagued by pirates and raiders. Further, the city must be kept heavily guarded, as the neighboring sultanates all strive to claim it for their own. (Among those that seek it is the Sultanate of Jorah, the successor state of the old Malaccan Sultanate.) And so, the Portugese, in gaining what they wanted, have reduced a great trading port into a minor one that is a constant drain on their resources. Don Antonio settles down, and tries to figure some way out of his new home.
--In France, Huguenots suddenly become a big deal again. King Henri is in need of a new Marshal, and the obvious choice is Louis de Bourbon, Prince of Conde. However, the formidable Prince states that he cannot accept the commission, as he is--a Huguenot. This is virtually throwing the gauntlet down to the King and his entire policy regarding the Reformed Church--and Henri responds as only he can to such a naked challenge, by hemming, and hawing, and trying to figure some way to take a stand without taking a stand. Conde, after all, isn't just some random merchant or petty noble who's decided to leave the Catholic faith--he's a Prince of the Blood, the brother of the King jux usuris of Navarre, and one of the finest generals France has. Moving against this man is dangerous--indeed, even Diane de Poitiers recognizes that Henri needs to be careful here. After all, this is making the Huguenots see Conde as a leader, making him even more dangerous to attack. (Rene de Guise--miffed at being pass over as Marshal--complains to family friend Gaspard de Coligny that the King seems to think there are Huguenots lurking at every corner. Coligny coughs politely and excuses himself.)[2]
Of course, all of the hullaballoo about Protestantism gets people interested in it, and this has one side-effect that Henri did not see coming. One day, his young son Henri of Orleans announces that HE'S a Huguenot. He refuses to attend mass, preaches against the evils of crucifixes and rosaries to his younger siblings, bites the nose off a plaster statue of a saint, and starts calling himself 'le petit Huguenot'.[3] Needless to say, King Henri is alarmed by all this. Queen Catherine assures him she can get little Henri to give up this nonsense, but the King feels that her coddling of the boy is what caused it in the first place. No, he'll have this handled his way. He's certain a regimen of beatings and stern religious teachers will bring Prince Henri back to his senses.
--With the war coming to an end, Philip gets matters in the Seventeen Provinces in order, naming his half-sister Margaret Regent. This is a popular choice, but Philip being Philip, he has to quare things by meddling further--Margaret is given three Councils to "assist" her in her government. There is only one Burgundian on these councils, and he is the Bishop Antony Perrenot, soon to be better known as the Cardinal Grannvelle--an OLD Burgundian, from the Free County. Philip makes it clear that he expects Margaret to confer with her "advisors"--the Presidents of these Councils--on all major matters, and then to top it all off, he makes it quietly clear that he is going to be in constant communication with her.
And so, now preparing to return to his true home, Philip prepares a scheme to ensure the Old Faith's power in the Provinces--a massive ecclessiascal reorganization. News of this leaks out, and produces an impressive opposition--not only from the Low Countries Protestants, but from its Catholics. Burgundians are deeply suspicious of all "foreign" meddling, and they can't shake the feeling that this the next step in more religious persecution. Even worse, his tame stadtholders--men who he thought he could RELY on--join the chorus. Facing such an outcry, Philip largely backs down, leaving the matter to Grannvelle to handle it in the future. The Burgundians are mostly placated, though they do vote down Philip's application for a stipend before he leaves. William of Orange notes to Philip that ultimately he cannot gainsay the wishes of the Burgundian assemblies. "The wishes of the assemblies?" snaps Philip. "Your wishes, you mean! For this is all you, you, you, YOU!"
It is an ominous leavetaking of the land that served his father as de facto capital. And of course it will all go downhill for him from there.
--Shane O'Neill has been hearing quite a bit about these... Originalists, and he decides to find out what all the fuss is about. And so he invites Donal o Fearghail to a discussion with Donat O'Teague, the Catholic Archbishop of Armagh[4]. This gives you a good idea what sort of incredible bastard Shane is, as he and O'Teague hate each other, and have ever since Shane killed a priest in a dispute.[5] O'Teague is hesistant, but he and his loyal right hand, Richard Creagh [6] decide they're obligated to give it a try.
It does not go well. As the debate over doctrine devolves into the Archbishop and the Protestant each claiming that the other is the son of a whore, the issue of England comes up. And here is where things go south for Catholicism in Ireland. O'Teague and Creagh--two of the most Rosicrucian Irishmen of all time, which is saying something--both feel that Henry must be obeyed in matters of state, if not faith--he is a heretic, but he is still a God-annointed king[7]. Fearghail feels that Henry must be fought--fought--fought--until the English are out of "God's chosen Isle". Temporary accomodations may be reached, if absolutely necessary--but ultimately, Ireland must be free, to serve as the great standard-bearer of the original tenets of Christ.
To say Shane immediately converts would be stretching the point. He's a bit suspicious of many of Fearghail's "original tenets" at the moment and ultimately, Shane O'Neill's great religious faith is in Shane O'Neill. But he's looking at the Originalists fairly kindly--indeed, he invites Fearghail to mediate his dispute with Matthew O'Neill.
And Irish Catholicism suffers another blow--O'Teague, his dander still up from the vigorous discussion, dies suddenly of a heart attack returning from the debate.[8] As Ireland is largely cut off from the Catholic world, this means it will be some time before they get a new Archbishop of Armagh.
--In outskirts of Rome, Cardinal Carafa is busily putting the finishing touches on his case for stripping Pius of the Pontificate--as he has been ever since his exile from the Papal Court. However, on the morning of the 17th of June, as he is in the middle of excitedly dictating the latest clause in his case--and his inner circle are in the middle of avoiding telling him that this is the same clause he set out last week--Carafa becomes incoherant, muttering nonsense then collapsing. He dies the next day, leaving his task unfinished.[9] The little knot of cardinals, bishops and priests who surround him, after a proper bit of mourning, start maneuvering to take his place. They ultimately settle on Michel Ghislieri[10], a man so morally unimpeachable that Pius made him a Cardinal despite his opposition to much of the Pietian Program. Ghislieri feels that Carafa's work on throwing out Pius was--misguided, and that his opponent's best bet is to try and work with in the Council. Not all agree with him.
The most notable of these opponents is Felice Peretti[11]--a Fransican monk with ties to the Inquisition, and a man who shares Carafa's belief that all of this "Reformed Church" nonsense can be beaten back through sheer stubborness. Peretti is not a powerful man in the Church, but he is a loud one--and he's also a Cathar. With Carafa's death, he makes an effort to take over the group and guide them away from their present pasttimes--making up elaborate plots to kill Protestant monarchs that proceed to go nowhere, and making up new, more elaborate rituals to "ensure their secrecy"--to doing something that will actually have an effect on the world at large. This unleashes the Society of Purity and Correctness in Doctrine's first leadership struggle. Ultimately, Peretti's bid for the leadership fails, though he manages to split off a few members into his own little society. This is going to be a problem for them in the future.
Turning to the man they all love to hate, Pius notes Carafa's death, but thinks little of it--he is well aware of how utterly he defeated the man, so many years ago. He has requests from Philip II of Spain to consider--making Perrenot a Cardinal, making Rodrigo de Vivar a saint--requests from Henry II of France--Pius is of course, eager to mend fences--as well as overseeing a bit of calender reform, and the ongoing official Catholic Biblical translations. To make these distinct from the many unofficial ones glutting the market, Pius is having his translators use the Complutensian Polyglot[12] as their source for the original Hebrew and Greek, rather than Erasmus, in order to make the finest, most perfect translation possible. The Protestants paint this as proof that Pius is under the thumb of Spain--despite the fact that Philip quietly opposes the translation project.
--In Livonia, the Order's new head, Gotthard Kettler, hires a large group of mercenaries, and then counterattacks Ivan's army, largely pushing them out of the area--the Russians are left with a few cities on the eastern edge of Livonia. This begins the general flow of the Livonian War for the next few years--Ivan invades, and initially takes large swathes of land, only for Kettler and/or his allies to put together a new army and push back Ivan's--which by this time has not only spread itself too thin, but also battered itself trying to take the larger walled cities in the territory, such as Riga. Then, Ivan gathers a new force, invades again, it's the outnumbered Livonians turn to fall back, until they get a new army--rinse, wash, repeat.
Poland-Lithuania continues to gather its forces, while Denmark is looking for someone willing to give them a bit of land. They're not doing this for free after all. And Sweden continues to watch, with Duke Magnus calling and then dismissing the Ostergotlandish militia two times during the year. Erik is naturally quite woried about what his brother is planning--whatever it is--and his father's announcement at Christmas that he's dying does nothing to ease his worries.[13]
--In Spain, Queen-Regent Maria passes an ordinance requiring all foreign books to recieve the approval of the Spanish Crown before being imported. [14] Much of the Spanish intelligensia is aghast--and fascinated to know that young Prince Charles is reported to be seen around the palace with a copy of Rabelais. It looks like they might just have a friend in high places...
--In England, an epidemic ravages the nation. Among the dead is Thomas Cramner--indeed, many elderly bishops perish. This has the unexpected side-effect of clearing out the few remaining crypto-Catholics in the Church of England's structure.[15] Indeed, as the Church of England heads deeper into Protestant territory, the newly-defined Puritan and Libertine factions both feel that they are the natural leaders of the Church, and feel that the new appointments should be in their favor. (Ironically, there are few of either faction in the hierarchy per se--both Puritans and Libertines are largely lay movements--merely bishops and priests seen as sympathetic to the cause.) King Henry plays a careful balancing act in his appointments--for example he grants Matthew Parker, generally seen as having Libertine sympathies, the Archbishophoric of Canterbury, while John Hooper,[16] a Puritan supporter, is granted the Archbishophoric of York.
The disease takes other noteworthy victims--Arthur Fitzroy buries his mother, Mary Howard[17], while Edward Tudor suffers greatly--his young son Thomas is among the dead. Even worse, his wife Barbara catches the illness while recovering from her latest pregnancy--a daughter--and dies shortly thereafter.[18] The double loss hits Edward hard, though he, as always, keeps a tight control over his emotions. While he can never have said to have loved his wife, he has become used to having her around--as for his son, it is the loss of his brother all over again. (Indeed, many of his odes written after this begin to conflate the pair.) Edward retires into seclusion for several months, watching over his remaining son, Edgar, and his newborn baby daughter, Barbara.
--Edward Tudor is not the only one suffering the loss of a spouse. Suleyman the Magnificent's beloved Roxelana dies. Suleyman orders the building of an elaborate tomb for the woman he loved so dearly as to defy Ottoman tradition. Prince Selim, in Konya, mourns the death of his mother with copius amounts of alcohol. Prince Bayezid, in Persia, trys to convince Shah Tamasp that now is the perfect time to invade. The Shah doesn't bite.
--The heat of Zoebels' murder dying down, Willhelm von Grumbach returns from Denmark and applies to the Reichstag to get his land back, hoping that the Elector of Saxony's backing will let him to do just that. John Frederick promises his support, though in truth, he's pretty busy these days--he has largely inherited his father's viewpoint and problems with the Schmalkaldic League, after all, and wants the organization to become more of a coherant Protestant front. This wrankles Frederick von Simmern, still quietly working to break off the Reform Lutheranism faction, and Philip of Hesse, angered at what he sees as the Elector's undeserving attempts to usurp his authority. While Philip could accept taking second place to John Frederick Senior, having to make way for his son is a bit much. Further, he largely suspects that the Elector's ambitious English wife is firming him up.
Emperor Ferdinand notes all this with pleasure--as he also notes the birth of a son to Ferdinand II and Maria of Spain, named Albert by his father. He is less happy about Margaret Tudor finally reaching her husband, Janos Sigismund Zapoloya of Transylvania, thus connecting the League to his Hungarian rivals--and potentially to the Ottomans. (Though as is usual for Germanic Protestant Princes, actually doing well has made the Wettins see the Turks as the Great Pagan Threat in the East instead of their Ally of Conveniance In the Face of Catholic Oppression.)
If the Emperor knew what was going to happen in the future, he'd be happy about none of these things. But of course, he doesn't, so he is. Life can be funny like that.
--After years of discussion and preparation, the so-called 'France Antarctique' expedition sets out with two ships, and six hundred soldiers and settlers under the leadership of de Villegaigon. Unfortunately, the expedition encounters a storm--badly damaged, it is forced to stop for repairs in the remote island of Bermuda in late November, where de Villegaigon manages to expertly navigate the difficult shoals that surround the isle. It will take several months to repair the damage--still Bermuda is quite hospitable...
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[1] This is NOT OTL Charles Emmanuel, being significantly older.
[2] Believe it or not, the Colignys and Guises were friends, before religion got in the way. This is one reason why they took Francois' IOTL assassination so badly.
[3] Henri did something similar IOTL when he was ten. Henri II being dead, his mother handled the matter, and handled it well.
[4] O'Teague was Archbishop several years later--here butterflies have given him the position several years early.
[5] Shane really did that. He was... a character.
[6] IOTL the Archbishop following Teague. Shane O'Niell hated him--indeed, the only person he hated worse was the Queen of England.
[7] This was Creagh's opinion IOTL. Ireland's politics have always been... odd.
[8] He died in 1562 IOTL--he was apparently a rather old man.
[9] He died in 1559 IOTL--ITTL while he's not Pope, his defeat is wearing on him--and the man is very, VERY old.
[10] Saint Pope Pius V IOTL.
[11] Pope Sixtus V IOTL.
[12] One of the first Polyglots. Erasmus' actually did his in a rush to beat it in the market.
[13] This is a year earlier than OTL. Interestingly enough this means that Erik XIV is coming to the throne BEFORE Frederick II of Denmark.
[14] This ordinance was passed in this year by Philip's regent IOTL--though naturally she was his sister Joan and not his wife.
[15] This happened IOTL--though naturally, the already dead Cramner was not among the dead--and had about the same effect for Elizabeth.
[16] John Hooper, a very, very dedicated partisan of the Reformed Church and a fiery iconoclast to boot, was a victim of the Marian persecutions IOTL.
[17] She died in 1557 IOTL.
[18] She died in 1597 IOTL. TTL hasn't been very kind to her, I'm afraid.
