The Visconti Victorious 2.0

The Visconti Victorious
  • In the fourteenth century, Italy's famed cities- the proud communes who had humbled the Hohenstaufen Kaisers- fell victim to the insidious, inevitable erosion of traditional institutions, and succumbed to the rule of tyrants. The Papacy had fled to Avignon and Imperial Germany collapsed into interregnum. The last of the Hohenstaufens fell to the headsman's axe in Naples' central square, and his haughty Sicilian kingdom became the prize contested by Spanish Aragon and French Provence. The Pope's absence in Avignon left Central Italy leaderless; Rome festered in ignonimity, and the communes, left to their own devices, succumbed one after another to ambitious princes. Amidst the shifting kaleidoscope of familial and regional rivalries, the streets of northern cities became battlegrounds, even as the cities vied amongst each other for dominance over their hinterlands. In the great city of Milan, the vestigial Guelf-Ghibelline feud between Pope and Emperor evolved, overlaying on existing local rivalries. It was here, in the thirteenth century, that the greatest of the Ghibelline dynasties seized power, assuming the mantle of protector and patron for the burgeoning mercantile and industrial interests in the city.

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    Well situated in the fertile Po Valley, mediate between Po and Alps, the Adda and the Ticino, Milan grew into a natural entrepot between east and west, north and south, Italy and Germany, the Mediterranean and the North Atlantic; as Italy was situated in the center of Europe, Milan was the beating heart of northern Italy, and she prospered, gold and steel flowing like blood through veins of stone, mud, brick, and wood. Her legacy was imperious indeed- Mediolanum was Diocletian's capital, Milan was the center of St Ambrose, rival to St Peter's pontifical authority; Milan had birthed the Lombard League and led it to victory, reviving from the ashes of Barbarossa's fury to see his dynasty destroyed. She was a city of cloth and iron, bankers and blacksmiths; but her wealth was sapped by infighting, the old Guelf-Ghibelline feuds diverting the city's energies in internecine squabbling. The free men of the city sought a protector, and in the process gained a master- first the Della Torre, then the Visconti.


    Archbishop Ottone Visconti of Milan is properly considered the founder of both the Visconti dynasty and of Lombard despotism. He (temporarily) banished the Della Torre and asserted lapsed powers vested in the bishops, securing his son Matteo the Great as the Captain General of the People and Imperial Vicar of Italy. Matteo, exiled for a decade by the Della Torre, returned and destroyed them, cementing his rule as Milan's Grand Signore; his power was that of a Caesar- an urban dictator, rather than a feudal prince. By 1349 the Milanese assembly had granted his descendants hereditary right to Lordship over the city, abandoning the pretense of elective government.

    Like other grand signorias, the Visconti nominally ruled on behalf of the German emperors. Vacant and distant, their presence nevertheless cast a fundamental uncertainty over the state's legitimacy, and the Visconti habitually poached every title and office they could get their hands on. The true source of their power, however, was always the tacit support of the “borghesia”- the urban middle classes. Matteo and his descendants offered peace and stability, with which to enjoy tidy profits; territorial expansion brought new economic opportunities and markets, food imports, and the grudging respect of rural aristocrats who might otherwise prey on the city's commerce. Thus the Visconti state seemed, to modern observers, as much a corporation as an empire- mercantilist and expansionist, always resting on the pillars of internal peace, domestic security, and foreign prestige and profit.


    Neighboring cities and aristocrats were compelled to submit, sometimes voluntarily, sometimes through coercion. Bloody infighting left bitter feuds, and many exiles were prepared to sell their city to a foreign army if it gave them the chance for revenge. Internally, the feuding communes often welcomed a foreign power able to enforce peace with an even hand. As great foreign kingdoms coalesced the city states found themselves at a further disadvantage in international affairs, an especially harmful scenario for wealthy merchants. Thus the decline of the commune accelerated, building momentum behind Milanese expansion, and a self-fulfilling sensibility among Padanian intellectuals of the necessity for a great prince, who could unify the feuding city states and reconstitute Italy as a functional political entity. In the fourteenth century, Lombard bishops already wrote that, “nisi habueriunt regem unum proprium et naturalem dominum qui non sit barbare nationis et regnum eius continuet naturalis posteritas sucesivas.” Lombardy was a shadow kingdom, and needed a native king.

    Such sentiments were not restricted to Lombardy. In 1347 the quixotic Cola Di Rienzo seized control of the city of Rome, ruling for four months as the Tribune of the People; he vaingloriously sought the restoration of Rome as a new Caput Mundi, capital of a reconstituted Italy, and summoned representatives from the northern cities to create an assembly. Rienzo's tenure did not last particularly long; he was ousted by the Roman nobility, but the Pope's long absence and the Western Schism had crippled the Papacy, and seen Rome herself decline to her worst nadir since the fall of the Western Empire. In Rome, as in the north, lack of a clear central authority crippled the city and created a vacuum waiting to be filled, but there was as yet no prince in the peninsula capable of asserting authority over Rome itself.

    In the Papacy's absence, Giovanni Visconti had transformed Milan into the hegemon of northern Italy. He subjugated Genoa, exploiting the latter's defeat at the hands of Venice, and purchased Bologna from its local prince, defying the Popes who nominally ruled the Romagna. His two nephews Galeazzo and Bernabo were married to the Count of Savoy's sister and a daughter of the Veronese Della Scala, securing ties to his two neighbors; upon his death in 1354 the two partitioned his estates. Galeazzo Visconti inherited the western third. Genoa was lost to Milan in the chaos following Giovanni's demise, and the papacy reasserted some nominal control over Bologna. Galeazzo thus found himself preoccupied with securing Visconti influence in Piedmont. He began by conquering Pavia, capital of the old Lombard kingdom, finally subduing the city in 1359 after a valiant but doomed resistance by its citizens; thereafter it became his capital. Milanese expansion triggered numerous coalitions- the Pope and Florence allied to check Bernabo's advances on Bologna, and Galeazzo's own brother in law Amadeus VI of Savoy went to war over Montferrat. In 1373 the Emperor revoked their Vicariate, and a Papal army entered Lombardy, triggering revolts in Parma, Piacenza, Bergamo and the Valtellina. Yet the coalition could not strike the killing blow- Savoy accepted a treaty securing Montferrat and renewed their alliance, the Pope signed a truce, and the rebel cities were subdued over the next three years. Galeazzo Visconti died peacefully on August 4th 1378, and was succeeded by his son Gian Galeazzo, the Count of Vertus by right of marriage.

    Born to Galeazzo Visconti and Blanche of Savoy in Milan on September 28th 1351, Gian Galeazzo Visconti grew to be a tall, well built and handsome prince, with the famous red hair of his dynasty. From a young age he was distinguished by his intellect and studious nature, imbibing the early stirrings of Renassance culture in the opulent Castello of Pavia. He was married to Isabella of France, who his father purchased for a sum of 600,000 francs; the marriage was fruitful, with one daughter and three sons surviving the marriage. Gian Galeazzo was born on March 4th 1366, Azzone in 1368, Valentina on 1371 and Carlo on September 11th 1372; Carlo's mother Isabella barely survived the birth, and Gian Galeazzo named him Carlo Maria in honor of the Virgin Mary as thanks for the survival of spouse and son.[1]

    Gian Galeazzo took to the field of battle for the first and only time in 1373; he and his army were put to flight, but the following year the prince secured a peace with the Savoy; from the beginning, the prince was more inclined to the pen than the sword. In 1375 his gout ridden father appointed the twenty three year old prince the castellan of Novara and other eastern cities, giving him the opportunity to experience governance and defense of frontier cities. In 1378, as his father was dying, Gian Galeazzo Visconti demonstrated for the first time his skill as an unscrupulous and ambitious prince. His brother in law, the weak and arbitrary marquis of Montferrat, appealed to him in subduing the city of Asti, occupied opportunistically by a German mercenary during the recent upheavals. Gian Galeazzo entered into the city in February, persuaded the wayward condotierri to name him governor, and assumed de facto control. Montferrat appealed vainly to other powers in and outside of Italy, but Gian Galeazzo had, without violence or rancor, conquered the city bloodlessly, and would not be evicted from his prize. This was how Gian Galeazzo preferred to conquer- as a fait accompli, in the guise of an ally, and with the way well prepared in advance through careful diplomacy and intrigue.

    For three years the lord of Pavia plotted and schemed carefully against his uncle and nominal suzerain Bernabo, betraying no outward sign of his intentions; he meekly submitted to betroth his sons Gian Galeazzo and Azzone to Caterina and Maddalena Visconti. The scheduled marriage of his son Gian Galeazzo to Caterina offered the opportunity to seize Bernabo and three of his sons, Carlo, Marco and Radolfo; we are told that Gian Galeazzo, who was well known to keep a large retinue for fear of assassins, sought the bridegroom's company in prayer outside Milan, and Bernabo, in his arrogance, placed himself into his nephew's power.[2] Bernabo himself died in Lombard custody, and Urban IV of Rome agreed to sell a dispensation and annul the betrothal, on grounds of Bernabo's tyranny and the incestuous nature of the marriage; that the Pope feared Gian Galeazzo might abandon Rome for Avignon if he excommunicated him, and received rich gifts and tributes from the duke, certainly also played a role in his rapproachment with the new Visconti patriarch. Gian Galeazzo organized a “Processus,” or trial of Bernabo, shrouding his usurpation on the pretext that Bernabo had failed to lift the imperial deprivation of 1372; the document additionally listed the many grievances of both Gian Galeazzo and the citizens of Milan. Milan itself welcomed the lord of Pavia- for he had amassed a reputation as a wise and beneficent prince, and Bernabo's treasury enabled him to shower his new subjects with tax relief and festivals. Gian Galeazzo, characteristically, conquered Milan at the behest of her adoring populace, after years of meticulous plotting and maneuvering; this was a pattern that would repeat throughout his reign.


    Reclusive and scholarly, the Count was charming and fluently eloquent. Although adroit in the rare instances of state pageantry, he was more typically encountered in intimate settings, where he could personally lavish his wit and charm on a wavering ally or wary ambassador. Filippo della Molza recounted that “When the lord Count saw me, he rose to his feet and came forward to meet me, and seized my hand and made me sit down, whether I would or no.” On a later encounter Molza met the Count reading the Bible during the evening. At other times the Count would be seen scurrying through the courtyard of his palace, offering barely a nod to passing courtiers as he scurried about, thoroughly lost in thought and preoccupied with the affairs of state. Often the lord would go hunting, moving informally without his court and deliberately keeping his location uncertain; Sienese envoys would in 1392 take an informal audience in a glen during an interval in the hunting, the lord patiently listening to their appeals before rising and giving his answer. Gian Galeazzo was a prince of the Renaissance, but his court was not solely occupied with artists, scholars and other hangers on- it was the nexus of a growing network of soldiers, diplomats, envoys, clerks and administrators; for the Renaissance Prince did not merely patronize art and learning, but wielded his energies and ambitions in service to the state, and in this manner too Gian Galeazzo Visconti was a true prince of the Renaissance.


    The Visconti ruled over a diverse patchwork of cities, estates, and territories. Milan- a bustling industrial metropolis of over 100,000 souls- and other great cities had to be balanced against the fertile banks of the Po, the entrenched feudal estates of Piedmont and the rugged and independent-minded communes along the Alps. Union between Pavia and Milan required a general reform and unification of the administration, and while previous Visconti had refrained from needlessly antagonizing regional particularism Gian Galeazzo was determined by necessity of circumstance and his own nature towards a more centralized and bureaucratic form of government. His forced usurpation of Bernabo opened a dangerous door towards autonomy- the regional lords and the urban Communes agitating for renewed independence from central government. Gian Galeazzo acted decisively against these efforts- he passed a string of laws prohibiting public ownership of arms, mass gatherings, and unlicensed fortifications, and cracked down on unlicensed guilds and associations; these triggered riots in Pavia, which were quickly and ruthlessly suppressed. Gian Galeazzo had won over the respectable merchant elites, positioning himself as a guarantor of public order against the mob. Gian Galeazzo did not overturn the general development of Italian government, instead repurposing and refining it; the communes had by the 14th century largely fallen into the same pattern of Signorial despotism. Unrest and instability led city after city to elevate a prince, vesting him with authority to maintain public order, intervene against feuds, enforce impartial justice, support commerce and industry, and promote agricultural development. Milan's government was exceptional principally for the extent of its territorial dominions; like many lords, Gian Galeazzo turned to the Holy Roman Empire, claiming authority as Imperial Vicar of Italy; he also turned to the French, asserting a parallel and at time contradictory concept of hegemony. Just as French nationalist scholars proclaimed their king to be “emperor in his own kingdom” the Visconti proclaimed that a state- whether republican or royal- held full sovereignty, and was entitled to treat with all foreign powers as a full equal. Unwilling to fully break with the Emperors, yet also paying lip service to their authority, the Visconti jealously hoarded every possible form of legitimacy as a pre-emptive defense against any foreign or domestic rivals; in every city that the Visconti conquered- including Milan- they first orchestrated an election by which the “people” of the city ceded sovereignty to the Visconti. In theory this principle- like that of the Imperial Viciariate- opened the possibility that the dynasty could be overthrown from below; in practice Milan's arms overawed the public, and Gian Galeazzo was able, during his lifetime, to use compromise and coercion to maintain order. The person of the Prince was endowed special authority, like the kings of France; they believed themselves embody absolute justice and authority, and their agents were expected to maintain the same impartiality. Already Bernabo had comported himself in the manner of a king; Gian Galeazzo continued and expanded his power as supreme lord of Lombardy. The communal governments were repurposed, with judicial authority resting on centrally appointed Podestas. Local councils maintained administrative autonomy at least temporarily, but Gian Galeazzo eroded the financial and political privileges of both the rural nobility and the urban burghers. By 1382 he had abolished the customary fixed sum and assumed direct control over Pavia's finances. He was not able to immediately extend this throughout Lombardy, nor abolish traditional prohibitions on non-citizens owning property within city limits.

    Administrative oversight obliged him to reform the government and create state organs. He created two new councils- a Secret or Privy Council which managed foreign affairs, and a Judicial Council; all envoys, foreign and domestic, were obliged to present themselves before the councils in Pavia. A special branch of the council, the “Camera”, addressed taxation and finance, under the Master of the Entries; a “Maestri della entrate ordinarie” in Milan and a “Maestri della entrate stradinarie” in Pavia, handling respectively financial policy and ordinary taxation and extraordinary taxation and emergency finances. Ordinary taxation was restricted to imposts- customs duties and various taxes-in-kind for goods such as wine or salt; in times of emergency the state could levy direct taxes on property, which were scaled based on an “Estimo” or an assessment of the citizens' wealth and means. All of these reforms served Gian Galeazzo's rational mind, clearly directed towards the expansion of his dominion over Lombardy.

    Gian Galeazzo's usurpation triggered a diplomatic crisis with several foreign courts. Bernabo had sired fifteen children and married them across Europe. He had married his son Carlo Visconti to Beatrice, daughter of John II, count of Armagnac, and his daughters Taddea and Catarina to the Bavarian Dukes Stephen III and Frederick of Bavaria-Ingolstadt and Bavaria-Landshut, respectively.[3] The former's daughter Isabella had married Charles VI of France in 1385, at the machinations of Duke Philip of Burgundy, who hoped to build a Franco-German alliance to resolve the Schism and advance his interests in the Low Countries. The match dismayed Gian Galeazzo, who had offered his own daughter Valentina as a bride, but he could not overcome the influence of the Duke of Burgundy.[4] Nevertheless, at his wife's urging, Gian Galeazzo agreed to marry his eldest son Gian Galeazzo II to the Princess of Anjou, who unfortunately died in 1383 at the age of thirteen; Gian Galeazzo was then betrothed to Sophia of Bavaria, daughter of Duke John of Bavaria Ingolstadt. John, alone among his brothers, had not taken one of Bernabo's daughters; reluctant to support their costly expeditions into Milan or Stephen's extravagant court, and in 1391 re-partitioned the duchy after the death of their brother Frederick without male issue.

    In addition to his children by Princess of France, Gian Galeazzo had two known paramours and several bastards. Agnese Mantegazza of Milan was bestowed a castle, and many rich gifts. A record in 1390 lists gifts to Lady Lusotta mistress of the lord Count of Virtus” and two bastards, Antonio and Daniele. A third bastard, Agnese's bastard Gabriele Maria Visconti, benefited from Gian Galeazzo's affection towards his mother, but it was his daughter Valentina who was dearest to the Count, and would form the cornerstone of his foreign dynastic policy. Coming of age in the ebullient and resplendent court at Pavia, Valentina, graceful and elegant, loved all things beautiful. Like her father she patronized art, sculpture and the scholarly pursuits; Pavia was not only the old capital of Lombard Italy, but also seat of a famous university, and the count transformed it into one of the preeminent institutions in Europe. Valentina herself was sacrificed on the altar of state- as all princesses were in that era. She was engaged to the feckless emperor Wenceslaus IV of Bohemia; and upon her departure for Germany, her father shut himself away in Pavia, refusing even to speak of her lest he lose himself to his tears.[4] The fruits of the marriage were made immediately apparent: his new son in law formally bestowed upon him the title of Duke of Milan, transforming the Visconti into hereditary imperial nobility.

    To secure his regime and pacify the western frontier, he sought rapprochement with Amadeus of Savoy. Within days of Bernabo's deposition, the Count received a rich gift of warhorses from Bernabo's stable; Amadeus, Gian Galeazzo's cousin, had his own security concerns- the hostility of Saluzzo, his ambitions against Provence in the Arelat, his entanglement in French politics- and readily sought an accord. In November 1381 he and Gian Galeazzo met and signed, in person, a treaty of friendship in Alessandria; four days later he accepted Gian Galeazzo's arbitration of a dispute with the Marquis of Montferrat. Like his father Gian Galeazzo decided to outsource Piedmont to his son and heir; in 1383, the seventeen year old Gian Galeazzo II was named governor of Piedmont after his marriage ceremony to the seven year old Sophia of Bavaria. John sought to reconcile himself to the new lord of Milan and additionally pursue an alliance against the Austrians and possibly his wayward brothers- it was agreed that the couple would receive Bavarian claims on Tirol “below the Brenner Pass” as well as the town of Deggendorf in Bavaria; the dowry, although welcome, was less valuable to the Visconti than the prestige of a quasi-imperial bride, to further secure the approval of Germany's nobility.

    The Duke of Milan, having consolidated his position, was inclined to push his borders outward. Gian Galeazzo had four main compass points guiding his ambitions- Genoa, Bologna, the mouth of the Po and the Alpine passes- the natural frontiers of Lombardy. In 1384 his attentions were turned east, embroiling him in the feud of the Della Scala of Verona and the Carrara of Padua. Carrara was an older ally of Milan, and the Della Scala had- alone among the powers of Italy- granted asylum to a son of Bernabo Visconti; the lord of Milan was naturally aggrieved. Yet war with Verona risked a confrontation with Venice. This was not in and of itself an insurmountable obstacle for the duke, but he did maneuver to neutralize the Venetians before acting against them. Entering into Friuli as a herald of peace, he orchestrated an alliance of the lesser lords of Ferrara and Mantua, thus stealing a march on Venice and forestalling their influence over these principalities. He then concluded an alliance with Carrara, promising him Vicenza in a general war against the Scalinger, but simultaneously opened talks with both Venice and Verona, keeping his options open as war loomed; a Venetian admiral entered his service in 1385, serving as an intermediary, and it was given to understood in Venice that Visconti support for Carrara extended only against the Veronese, and that he was amicably disposed towards the Republic's own interests in the region. In Germany Albert of Tirol was bribed into closing the Brenner Pass; after the outbreak of war between Carrara and Della Scala in 1386 the Milanese alliance invaded Verona. Gian Galeazzo finally presented terms to the Veronese after Carrara annihilated their army outside Padua, demanding the lands around Lake Garda, which the Veronese in their desperation were prepared to grant. He had no real claim to these lands, which had been the dowry of his uncle's wife, but his objective was rather grander; so secretive were his plans that even his sons advised him to accept the Veronese offer, mediated by the Venetians in order to restrain the duke's ambitions. Gian Galeazzo was in contact with the Veronese dissidents within the city; emperor Wenceslaus turned a blind eye towards his father in law's actions, having reinstated the Visconti as Imperial Vicars of Italy. Gian Galeazzo's armies grew from the castoffs of his enemies, as he outbid the condotierri, and Della Scala's beaten army disintegrated, his soldiers deserting en masse. A Veronese army along the Garda turned about, declaring itself for Milan, and marched on Verona, where the citizens rose in revolt and threw open the gates to the Lombards. The Visconti standard was planted above the citadel, and the city dedicated itself to Gian Galeazzo, whom they awaited as a liberator.


    Verona's capture led to a direct intercession by the other powers of Italy, still hoping to restrain Gian Galeazzo, but Carrara- unlike the lord of Milan- showed no restraint or tact in victory. Only now was he made aware of the nature of his ally; ignoring both the promises of autonomy granted to Verona, and the antebellum promise of Vicenza to the Paduan despot, Gian Galeazzo unilaterally annexed the entire della Scala state; Carrara, who viewed Venice as his principal enemy, grudgingly came to terms with Milan's treachery, and pressed for concessions in Friuli as compensation. This caused a collapse of peace negotiations by irritating Venice; the Venetians subsequently resolved to destroy the Carrarese, entering into a new alliance with Milan to partition the Paduan state between the two of them. Carrara, like the della Scala, suddenly found himself alone and friendless, as all the lords of Northern Italy bowed before the union of Lion and Serpent; in vain he attempted to lure the Austrians into Italy with the promise of restoring Belluno and Feltre to them. Milan occupied Padua in the same manner as Verona- after its lord fled, and the city opened its gates, the Lombards entered unopposed and orchestrated a communal election whereby the citizens “nominated” Gian Galeazzo to rule them. He received the submission of Bellun and Feltre in a similar fashion, and Venice occupied Treviso in accordance with the alliance.[6]

    In the span of less than a year Gian Galeazzo had become a Duke, the Imperial Vicar of Italy, and the father in law of his nominal sovereign; he had advanced his eastern frontier to the Adriatic, secured the allegiance of Ferrara, Mantua, and Urbino, entered into a coalition with Venice, and made himself the hegemon of all Padania. Venice was his ally, the Doge of Genoa his friend, the king of France his wife's cousin, the king of Germany his daughter's husband; he had the anxious ear of the Avignon Pope Clement and the friendship of the Roman pope Urban. Florence watched all of this with alarm, certain that if left unchecked this new and dangerous prince, erudite and empathetic, was soon to be the ruler of all of Italy.

    [1]Here is the PoD: Gian Galeazzo's wife Isabella died in childbirth along with her son Carlo, and his other two sons died prematurely due to disease. Their survival places him in a much stronger dynastic position, and will greatly expand his options diplomatically and strategically.
    [2]This is similar to how Bernabo was seized by Gian Galeazzo historically; he lured Bernabo into a church in the guise of a pilgrim, and then seized him with his guards.
    [3]These marriages are historical.
    [4]Isabella's survival is significant, because she is the daughter of King John of France. Gian Galeazzo was somewhat more rash in his youth, and TTL would probably be arrogant enough to seek to make his daughter Queen of France immediately after his coup.
    [5]The behavior is the same as Valentina's historic marriage to Louis of Orleans, but given Isabella's survival the match with Louis is less likely; the Imperial match suits Gian Galeazzo's purposes better, though as we will see it will have its own consequences for Milan.
    [6]The key divergences, so far, are that Gian Galeazzo seized power four years ahead of time, and also seized another of Bernabo's sons; he also has avoided the scandal of his proposed with Princess Maria of Sicily, thus his ambition is less tempered. As a result of this, and being more secure, he intervened sooner against the Veronese; the general course of the war is the same as it was historically- albeit roughly four years sooner- including the betrayal and partition of the Carrara, since Carrara was unlikely to alter his behavior.
     
    The Shadow Kingdom
  • The Shadow Kingdom

    Now that he had hegemony over Padania, the Duke of Milan turned his attention, somewhat reticently, to the south. Bologna and Genoa were the two lodestars of Lombard revanchist ambition- the gateways to the Tyhrennian and the Romagna, respectively- and the latter city especially seemed ripe for conquest. Yet the Bolognese, leveraging their strategic position, had the ear of the major powers of the peninsula- Venice, the Papacy, and the Republic of Florence; Milan could not attack them without offending the other Italian powers, and perhaps triggering a hostile coalition. It was the Florentines who would prove most hostile to the Visconti.

    Gian Galeazzo had mediated a peace between Bernabo and the Tuscan cities of Siena and Florence in , and these ties allowed him to curry favor in Siena especially. Siena had fallen on hard times; her silk industries were declining along with her plague-ridden population, and Florentine encroachment on her hinterland placed the city in dangerously precarious position. She had lost the rich val de Chiesa to resentment of the population, and feared interference in the similarly restive commune of Montepulciano.

    Florentine aggression paved the way for Milan's entry into Tuscany. For all that contemporary Florentine diplomats denounced the Count as a tyrant and a warmonger, their neighbors recognized the howling of the wolves, and preferred the distant yet firm arm of the Visconti. Pope Urban returned to Tuscany from Genoa in 138, and Florence reopened talks with the Duke of Milan for a possible alliance against the Papacy; these were welcomed but ignored. The duke- pressured by his sons- had resolved on war, and was determined to seize Bologna in a fait accompli. Siena's offer of homage was politely refused, but she welcomed Milanese troops and entered into alliance with the duke, joining the League; Siena was followed by Perugia, Urbino, and the Ravennese Malatesta, a league now clearly arrayed against Florence. Florence herself secured the allegiance of Faenza, Imola, and Bologna in the Romagna, and maintained support for the Pro-Florentine party in Pisa via the ; yet that city had not forgotten her traditional hostility to Florence, and there were murmurings of discontent among the Pisan Ghibellines. Gian Galeazzo held his finger to the pulse of Tuscany, and could name all the malcontents by name; he was in contact with the of Pisa and many others. Behind every corner the Florentines perceived the viscontigiani working to encircle and destroy them- but the net was of their own making, and their struggles only tightened the noose.

    Both sides resorted to the pen before the sword; Milan spoke of resisting the Guelph tyrants, the Florenbtines rose the banner of republican liberty against the tyrant, but beneath the haughty rhetoric was the nakedly brutal logic of secular interests. Florence wished to expand into Tuscany; the great merchant families had staked their fortunes on securing regional dominance, and were not prepared to allow a foreign power such as the Milanese to interfere within their spheres of influence. Milan took up the challenge, and asserted her right to protect the weaker states against the stronger. The Florentines, together with Bologna, demanded a border along the Territory of Modena and the river Secchia as the dividing line between their respective spheres of influence. Pietro Gambacorta, the pro-Florentine lord of Pisa, attempted in vain to mediate personally with the Duke, but failed, for Gian Galeazzo was now resolved on war.

    As the crisis boiled over, the Duke installed his second son Azzone in Verona, a youth destined for glory.[1] Nineteen years old in 1388 and as yet unmarried, he had inherited his father's fair complexion and fiery mane, and a keen and industrious intellect well suited to soldiery. Like his parents he was personally vivacious and charming- but whereas his father was the consummate statesman and a reserved, pensive scholar, and his mother a gregarious and generous soul, Azzone embodied the ideal Medieval warrior prince: audacious, gregarious, reveling in the opulent majesty of Pavia's Renaissance court, which surrounded him as snugly as fur on a hound. His status- unwed and unbetrothed- was in part perhaps lingering regret over his sister Valentina's marriage, in part the prince's own diffident nature- for unlike his father he readily enjoyed the company of women, siring twenty eight known bastards with at least a dozen mistresses and paramours over his tumultuous life- and as Italy did not disfavor bastards, these sons and his brothers' own marriages ensured that the Visconti line was likely to continue with or without his marriage. Azzone demonstrated- in striking contrast to his father- a ready aptitude for the military, combining an easy charisma and belligerent bravery with a keen, workmanlike mind well suited to the mundane oversight of both armies and government administration. His appointment to Friuli was a clear endorsement by his father- for Gian Galeazzo was sensitive to the danger from the east, and would not have entrusted the task to Azzone if he thought him incapable.

    Azzone's appointment was well justified: on 1389, Francesco Carrara, the exiled lord of Padua and Verona, crossed through Austrian Carinthia into Friuli with two thousand infantry and the backing of Duke Stephen of Bavaria, attacking Padua while the Lombards were preoccupied in the Romagna. Prince Azzone rebuffed the invasion- his scouts detected Carrara's force and his soldiers maintained the walls against them; his army was able to crush an abortive rebellion within the city and maintain control of the gates. Carrara was forced to commit to a siege; correspondingly, Gian Galeazzo's general Ubaldini decided to continue with his own attack on Bologna, trusting the prince to hold out. The city, despairing of relief, appealed to Rome for aid; a papal ambassador attempted to intercede and take control of Bologna, but the Milanese stalled for time and barred his passing, preventing the Papal banner from being formally raised over their enemy's walls. Bolognese dissidents had been in secret contact with the Visconti and proposed to dedicate their city to Milan. As the siege dragged on Ubaldini himself had opened his own negotations with the dissidents, and they finally succeeded in opening the gate. Bologna, like Verona and Padua, admitted the duke's forces after an urban revolt cast out the lord.[1] Once Bologna had fallen, Ubaldini rushed north towards Padua, which still held out for the Visconti, meeting and routing the Bavarians near Verona before they could join with the Carrarese. Carrara, upon learning of the defeat, became terrified that his mercenaries would betray him; in the night, he fled with his treasury and his closest compatriots across the Alps into Germany, whereupon he became a guest of Duke Stephen of Bavaria Landshut. Stephen's entry into Italy had been delayed by the opposition of Duke John of Bavaria, who agreed to send three hundred knights south to aid his son in law, placing himself directly in opposition to his brothers Stephen and Albert. This delay, and the broader failure of Gian Galeazzo's enemies to combine effectively against him, proved fatal to the coalition.

    Further south, the Florentines were under an increasingly effective blockade- although pressing Siena hard, they were nearly surrounded by Gian Galeazzo's allies- Ferrara[2], Siena, Perugia, Genoa, Urbino and the Malatesta of Rimini. Lucca, tentatively neutral and independent, was induced to sever ties with Florence by the arrival of Lombard soldiers in Massa. The Romagnan princes divided amongst themselves and used the war to settle old grudges between themselves. Azzone was granted command for a campaign into the Romagna to sever Florence's link to the Adriatic. On January 9th, 1389, Azzone's army appeared suddenly outside Imola and triggered a revolt against the Papal legate Luigi Alidosi; thereafter allying with the Ordelaffi of Forli, he assaulted Faenza on the 4th of February, taking and sacking the city; although wounded in the fighting he intervened to protect the city's church, where the bishop and several dozen civilians had taken refuge. For this the citizens would gratefully name him Azzone the Magnanimous.

    With Romagna supine, Gian Galeazzo negotiated a new League at Pavia, whereby his allies- Genoa, Siena, Lucca, Ferrara, Mantua, Urbino- pledged to maintain peace between themselves- and tacitly agreed to separate themselves from the Florentines.[3] Florence found itself totally isolated in Italy, a ripe plum the Visconti vipers were determined to take for themselves, and in their desperation they appealed to the French, offering- as the Genoese had done once before- to submit their republic to Charles VI in return for his support against Milan. This act of desperation was to prove the republic's undoing. France was too far away and too preoccupied to offer immediate aid, while Pope Urban excommunicated them, and Pisa was induced to revolt against its pro-Florentine despot. The city was forced to sue for peace, which was mediated by the Venetians; all recognized it as terms of surrender. Florence was forced to return the disputed territory to Milan, and join a League led by the Milanese, pledging to maintain the peace of Italy by banning the condotierri companies from the peninsula and averting alliances or conspiracies against fellow members; in return the Milanese and their allies agreed to abandon the blockade. As Milan had a much larger army than Florence, banning mercenaries decisively shifted the balance against the republic, and so long as she was unable to enter into foreign alliances the Florentines would be isolated and easily destroyed in a future war.

    For the moment the French did not intercede against Gian Galeazzo; France was preoccupied with the tenuous negotiations with the English at Leulingham, and Isabella was able to personally intercede on behalf of her husband. But events in Rome would precipitate a general crisis in Franco-Lombard relations. The decrepit Urban died, unmourned, in October 1389; Azzone at the time was wintering his army in Perugia. At once he perceived the opportunity, and seized it on his own initiative without consulting with or informing his father. He and sixty heavily armed companions rode south and surprised the lax Romans, who were not prepared for an attack, and many of its watchmen were caught gambling or carousing on duty; the caput mundi, seat of Latin Christianity, passed into Visconti control due to the licentiousness of its defenders. Rome itself had fallen far, its ancient Aurelian Walls enclosing a squalid city of ten thousand souls, barely a tenth the size of great metropolises like Naples or Florence and far removed from the half million who had inhabited it during the Empire's peak during Late Antiquity. Much of the city's land had been given over to farms and pasture, and both plague and the long absence of the Papal court had robbed the city of its vitality; barely three decades prior, the city had overthrown papal government entirely for a few scant months, reasserting the ancient communal self government. It was to these malcontents that Azzone turned, but he overreached himself with his ambition. He broke apart the Papal Conclave, blocking the ascension of the capable Neapolitan , and took the government of the city into his own hands. Whether he ultimately intended to deliver up the city to Clement as some of his enemies alleged or merely assert control over Rome in the manner of Cola di Rienzo was not clear, but his aggression against the Cardinals was enough to trigger an insurrection within the city. Besieged in the Castel Sant'Angelo, the rest of his army menacing the city from beyond the Aurelian walls, Azzone- never one to equivocate in times of crisis- cast aside his earlier misgivings and arranged a hasty papal coronation. He presented Pope Boniface to the crowd, and declared himself willing “to defend the city to his last breath” against the French and all other foreigners; the pope in turn ceded to him all Papal rights to the Margrave of Tuscany, and tasked Azzone with clearing out the Clementine Orsini, lord of Spoleto and Orvieto, sole lord of the Papal Patrimony to maintain loyalty to Avignon.

    Azzone, playing the dutiful servant, thereafter turned his father's men against the Orsini, spending the following Spring of 1390 conquering his duchy. Having evicted the Orsini he refused to surrender Spoleto to a papal governor, instead seizing control of the city and additionally occupying Perugia without resistance. Boniface's governor found the gates of Spoleto closed against him; the city recalled their loyalty to Avignon and contempt for Rome's authority, and haughtily professed that they would again seek Avignon's protection if Boniface deposed their new prince. The Pope yielded, and agreed to invest Azzone as Duke of Spoleto, although he was obliged to renounce, for himself and his heirs, all claims on his father's dominions in Lombardy, and additionally to return Orvieto, which was too close to Rome for Boniface to allow it to remain in the hands of his vassal. Azzone immediately sold his rights to Tuscany to his brother Carlo Maria, and turned east, asserting his rule over the Adriatic littoral of the Papacy. He attacked Ancona alongside the Venetians in 1391, but a storm scattered their fleet, and with finances and supplies running low he agreed to withdraw in exchange for a tribute of 70,000 florins. Fermo yielded to him, as did , and by the end of 1392 he was in control of nearly all of Umbria and the Marche. In the span of two short years Azzone Visconti had become the master of much of Central Italy.

    Pope Boniface was never comfortable with the ambitious and energetic viper to his east; but recognizing the weakness of his own position, he was not yet prepared to disown him. The interdependence of the two men was emphasized after another revolt in 1391 forced the Pope to flee to Perugia, placing himself at the Duke's mercy. Azzone returned with an army, and forced entry into the city, bloodily suppressing the mob. The Romans had grown accustomed to the lax hand of self government and resented Boniface's attempts at enforcing new taxation and centralized control; Azzone forced the city to yield, although certain concessions were made to leading families such as the Colonna and to the citizens themselves. Azzone took control over the Castel Sant'Angelo and wrested from Boniface permission to marry Joanna of Naples, on the condition that he would not unite Spoleto and Naples if the couple inherited the throne. If the fourteen year old Ladislaus died without issue, Joanna and her husband would succeed to the throne of Naples, and inherit claims to Provence, Hungary and Jerusalem. The savvy Boniface recognized that the match would potentially drive a wedge between Azzone and his father by forcing him to commit fully against the French, as Louis II of Anjou had invaded Naples in 1390 with the blessing of Pope Clement; the Anjou were now conspiring with the Duke of Orleans and agitating for a French invasion of Italy.

    Gian Galeazzo did not formally acknowledge Urban or even accept his son's enfeoffment as Duke of Spoleto, a diplomatic distancing which forestalled an open breach with Avignon. In 1390 Azzone pledged to undertake a Crusade, partially as an act of penance for the violence of his reconquest of Rome, and partially to appease Pope Boniface, who viewed the endeavor as a propaganda victory against the Avignon Pope Clement. Boniface allowed Azzone to levy new taxes and indulgences to finance the war against the Turks. These funds were partially diverted to supporting Azzone's brother in law, Ladislaus of Naples, against the Angevins, and Azzone additionally made preparations alongside his brother Gian Maria to subjugate Florence, which had offered itself as a vassal to the King of France and beseeched him to invade Italy and free them from the tyrant.

    Azzone's coup and the renewed war in Tuscany, in the long term, was destined to revolutionize European politics, but its immediate effects were limited mainly to Italy. Gian Galeazzo himself took a conciliatory tone, accepting the mediation of Emperor Ladislaus and the prospect of a negotiated peace between himself and Florence, which came to nothing; neither the French nor the Germans could intervene, and the lord of Milan played for time, intent on starving the great city into submission. Gian Galeazzo found himself in a delicate position. Florence, humiliated and crippled as she was, was not yet defeated; the French had voiced their displeasure on his aggression, and pressed him to recall Azzone and Carlo Maria, or at least pressure his sons into supporting the Clementine conquest of Latium. Louis of Orleans was even now contemplating an invasion of Italy to forcibly install Clement, and he was the fiercest advocate for accepting the Florentine offer and liberating Tuscany from the Milanese tyrant. Judging by recent history, this ill conceived venture was not likely to secure many lasting gains for France: Louis I of Anjou had died in Naples four years prior, as his army of forty thousand melted away due to disease and lack of payment; and Enguerrand de Coucy, the famed French knight, had conquered and occupied Arezzo in 1384 only to sell it to the Florentines after Anjou's death. Nevertheless Louis was determined to make his mark on Italy, and assert his rights over the Romagna, and he believed the Visconti's expansion in Italy to be merely a stepping stone towards his own glory.

    Louis proposed an army of twelve thousand, financed by a special levy by Clement; he was to receive the Kingdom of Adria in the Romagna. He was prepared to offer Gian Galeazzo investiture as the King of Lombardy in return for stepping aside and allowing the French into Italy. Upon hearing of Azzone's coup, Louis immediately assumed, not entirely without reason, that his cousin had conquered the city on his behalf; Gian Galeazzo readily encouraged this belief, for he was not willing to break completely with France, nor to disavow his son. Yet Louis greatly misunderstood Italian politics- Gian Galeazzo would never declare himself for Clement without a French army in Italy; his subjects were loyal to Rome, and he had no desire to choose one Pope over the other while the option still remained to curry favor with both sides. The Duke of Burgundy entered into Italy on October 1390 as an envoy, sounding out the possibility of a combined offensive against the Roman Pope.

    Gian Galeazzo had a strong hand, and played it well in negotiations, since he had maintained a scrupulous neutrality in the Schism. Pope Clement and Louis of Orleans concocted a general scheme to partition central Italy: Louis would become King of Adria, occupying the Romagna, and Clement pledged to enter into Rome at the head of a French army and end the Schism by force. Gian Galeazzo was offered the crown of Lombardy, undisputed control over Tuscany and Friuli, and confirmation of his son Azzone's investiture as Duke of Spoleto as a papal vassal.

    Nevertheless the deal, which Gian Galeazzo had encouraged, was wholly beyond France's means and ultimately contrary to his own interests. In the first place, Rome was not his to give, as Azzone had placated the city only through his nominal submission to Pope Boniface. Nor did it suit his interests to cede Bologna to Louis, certainly not when he gained nothing from the venture which he did not already possess; and neither the French King Charles nor Pope Clement could bestow upon him the Iron Crown of Lombardy, which was an imperial possession. Boniface had already acknowledged his son's claim to Tuscany; Gian Galeazzo did not need Clement or the French to take it, and on the contrary wished to keep them out of the peninsula entirely, as a French intervention was one of the only serious obstacles yet remaining to his hegemony. The issue of Sicily- which Gian Galeazzo demanded, along with Sardinia and Corsica- destroyed the negotiations, as Gian Galeazzo intended and anticipated it would; Clement bestowing the title on the Visconti would potentially mean war between France and Aragon. Clement could not countenance this, as King John was solidly Francophile and loyal to Avignon. Louis did not have the resources to pay for the endeavor on his own, and with the English dragging their feet vis a vis peace talks the whole affair ultimately came to nothing- beyond diffusing the threat of a French alliance with Florence, which in the final analysis was the sole purpose of the negotiations in the first place; Gian Galeazzo's own envoys had alerted the English to the planned French invasion of Italy, prompting them to voice their displeasure during peace talks with the French. In 1392, Gian Galeazzo and Charles of France exchanged mutual declarations of friendship, which in practice bound the French to nothing, but the lord of Milan hoped, at least, that Charles would remember his oath and resist future appeals from the Florentines.

    While the French negotiations deliberately stalled, Gian Galeazzo appealed personally to the Count of Armagnac, whom he had been courting since 1387. His sister had married Carlo Visconti, Gian Galeazzo's nephew, causing the Armagnac to react poorly to Bernabo's deposition and Carlo's demise. John himself had mustered an army against the King of Aragon throughout 1387, 1388 and 1389, intent on invading and conquering the Kingdom of Mallorca. This was wholly against both the interests of the French king and the Avignon papacy, and the younger Gian Galeazzo interceded on behalf of Charles, ostensibly as a gesture of good faith. The Duke, his father, hoped to turn the Count from an enemy to an ally, and had instructed his son accordingly. In April 1387, as the Count was assembling an army to attack King John of Aragon, the Count of Virtu's twenty one year old son Gian Galeazzo arrived in Avignon with fifty thousand florins worth of gifts. He swayed Pope Clement to intercede as an envoy, plying Armagnac with the offer of a betrothal between Carlo Maria Visconti to the count's daughter Joan and an anti-Aragonese alliance; the Visconti heir coyly suggested that Armagnac and his army accompany the Dukes of Orleans and Burgundy into Lombardy as an emissary of France. This flattered the Count, as the lord of Milan knew it would, for it implied that he viewed him as an equal to the French princes of the blood. In vain Carlo's widow argued strenuously to keep her brother from accepting the offer, denouncing Gian Galeazzo as a murderer, and insisting that the meeting was a trap. This the count of Vertu's emissary countered inexorably: that the Duke had sent his own son and heir as an envoy as a gesture of good faith; that Bernabo was a tyrant feared throughout Italy, who had forced his nephew into an incestuous marriage and schemed to steal his principality; that Bernabo had accosted the Count while he was on pilgrimage, and been overpowered by the Count's bodyguards in self defense; that the King of France and Pope of Avignon both demanded that the Visconti and Armagnac reconcile; that the Count was prepared to make restitution, and to pay the fees of the Armagnac army in Italy; that Armagnac would have safe conduct guaranteed by the King of France and the Pope in Avignon, and the protection of his own army; and that the Duke's cause was clearly favored by God, as demonstrated by his rapid victory over Carrara and seizure of Bologna, and therefore he could not be the vile and treacherous villain his enemies claimed him to be. The final argument proved decisive, for Armagnac had to contend with Carrara's rapid and humiliating eviction from Italy and his son's control over Latium. Moreover, Gian Galeazzo, unlike Pope Clement or King Charles of France, was prepared to fully acknowledge and support his spurious claims to Mallorca; and unlike the French or the Florentines he was able to pay hard cash for Armagnac's army. This was irresistible for the Count, who had been forced to delay his campaign for two years due to lack of funds, and he agreed to reroute his unruly army of more than six thousand Gascon routiers into Italy to discuss terms of employment with Milan against Florence.[4]

    The Count of Armagnac entered into Pavia in August 1389 and thereafter fell into the sway of Gian Galeazzo. The Lord of Pavia spared no expense in courting the French patriarch, and- charming as ever- quickly won over the count with flattering and empathetic manner. Armagnac agreed to marry his widowed sister Beatrice to Gian Galeazzo's bastard son Gabriele Maria, the couple receiving the lordship of Vicenza from the Visconti and Charolais from the Armagnac; Gian Galeazzo secretly pledged to subsidize the Armagnac army in a joint campaign against the King of Aragon, to be conducted at an unspecified date in the future once Florence had fallen. In the interim he mediated a peace between the Catalans and John of Armagnac on behalf of King Charles of France, garnering much goodwill in both courts and ostensibly ensuring their benevolent neutrality in the affairs of Northern Italy. Pope Boniface IX- ever a canny politician- agreed to sanction the alliance, hinting at a crusade against the schismatic kings of Sicily in return for the cession of Bologna; as with Clement, Gian Galeazzo offered vague notions in support without openly committing to anything. Nevertheless he did gain a levy of taxes on church offices, and the sale of indulgences to finance the war with Florence. Pisa had overthrown its pro-Florentine government that year, cementing Gian Galeazzo's influence in Tuscany, and his control over the Tyrhennian Sea and Arno Valley. More substantially, the Doge Antoniotto Adorno of Genoa was his client and ally. Gian Galeazzo interceded on his “friend's” behalf, crushing popular revolt in Genoa against the Doge in 1390, after which the city accepted a Milanese garrison. Malcontented Ghibellines within the city had subsequently offered its submission to the French, and Gian Galeazzo's occupation caused Charles to complain vociferously, but continued tensions with England prevented the French from intervening directly, and the personal intervention of Isabella was enough to dissuade Charles from breaking off relations entirely. Nevertheless, Louis of Orleans and Louis of Anjou independently decided to launch an invasion, sponsored by the Avignon Pope, to conquer the Romagna; this was deeply distressing to Charles, not least once the English threatened to renew the war if France forcibly toppled the Roman Pope, but neither Louis nor Anjou were dissuaded, for on August 6, 1391, the fifteen year old Ladislaus died without issue, leaving the throne of Naples to his sister Joanna, wife of Azzone Visconti. Later examination confirmed that he was poisoned; it is harder to determine the culprit, since so many men stood to profit from Ladislaus' demise. The most obvious culprit would have been the French Valois-Anjou, but the Visconti were also accused, and even King John of Aragon, a rival for control over Sicily.

    Gian Galeazzo had by this time proposed and organized a general League at Mantua, encompassing Milan and its allies, whose members pledged to resist a foreign invasion of Italy, mediate disputes among themselves, and support a peaceful resolution to the Schism; this in practice was understood to be a safeguard against the French and the Avignon Papacy. Mantua and Ferrara joined, as much from fear in the former case as fondness for Gian Galeazzo, and Venice reluctantly joined as well, for fear of losing all influence in Padania; Pope Urban, bowing before the political winds, joined the alliance and immediately began scheming to turn it fully against Avignon; Siena, Pisa and Genoa were induced to join as well. The alliance was also expanded to include the Kingdom of Naples, the Judiciate of Arborea, and the Piedmontese principalities of Saluzzo and Montferrat, who wished to protect themselves from the Savoy; these last admissions were to prove a serious mistake. Gian Galeazzo had hoped to balance affairs in Piedmont and preserve the status quo, but he was unwilling to turn away the minor principalities, perhaps believing that the Savoy were unlikely to act on their own. By admitting his son-in-law Ladislaus of Naples and the Arboreans, he was declaring himself fully against both the Valois-Anjou and the Barcelona of Aragon. He overestimated England's capacity for war, and underestimated the ambition of young Louis of Orleans, and did not foresee the danger his ambitions were creating.


    [1]Here is the first major divergence in the course of the war. Historically Padua fell to a surprise attack by Carrara- the city threw open its gates, and the garrison was besieged in its fortress, eventually forced to surrender after the Bavarians prevented Milan from reinforcing. This forced Milan to break the siege of Bologna and opened an eastern front. Here, Azzone's leadership is able to maintain control of the city, preserving it from capture. Bologna is thus taken, and Carrara thereafter hounded from the peninsula.

    [2]Ferrara started the war as a Milanese ally, but was forced to sign a separate peace after Polesine was sacked by the Bavarians. Here Carrara fails to take Padua, so Ferrara remains in the war on Milan's side.

    [3]OTL Carrara's capture of Padua sorely stressed Milan's resources- he faced invasion from three sides- Bavaria, Padua to the east, an Armagnac army in support of his cousin (who hoped to reclaim Milan) in the west, and the Florentines to the south. He defeated the Armagnac and held out long enough to force a white peace with the loss of Padua, but at great expense, and a deterioration of his strategic position- here, the war has ended much sooner, he retains Padua and captures Bologna, while keeping his influence over Ferrara, Mantua, and the Romagna, on top of a fairly capable adult heir and a good decade or two to consolidate further. Thus he has a much better position TTL to continue expanding and consolidating northern Italy.

    [4]Historically, the Count of Armagnac entered into Italy as an ally of Florence against Milan, and was killed after his army was destroyed. The Milanese TTL are far more formidable and the Count's Visconti brother-in-law is Gian Galeazzo's prisoner, and the intercession of Isabella and Gian Galeazzo II are enough to sway the Count into contemplating a different course of action.
     
    A League in Lombardy
  • A League in Lombardy

    Louis of Anjou received the crown of Naples from Clement VII on November 1, 1389, in the presence of his cousin Charles VI of France and the king's brother Louis of Orleans, and on 1390 had sailed into Naples. Louis of Anjou was betrothed to the seven-year-old Elizabeth of Aragon on 1 September 1391, and the fourteen-year-old Louis departed Naples for Provence in that year after receiving the submission of the Campania nobility; this decision was rightly criticized by later commentators as the moment he lost the contest for Naples, and yet considering his youth and circumstances Louis must not be judged harshly. Diffident, haughty, and inexperienced, Louis of Anjou became the embodiment of the degeneration of French nobility- in striking contrast to his rivals, or for that matter his ally Louis of Orleans, nineteen years old in 1392 and already demonstrating the political acumen that would make him the center of the French monarchy in the years to follow. Yet at the time Louis’ departure did not seem immediately fatal. Joanna was a twenty-year-old woman, and while her husband Azzone Visconti was Duke of Spoleto, that principality was neither as rich nor well populated as his own sunny Provence. His father’s duchy of Milan, though powerful, was distant, and preoccupied with its ongoing feud in Tuscany. Strategically it made some sense for Louis of Anjou to join forces with Louis of Orleans in a coup de main against Milan and the Roman Papacy, for Louis and Clement VII were now mustering an army of 15,000 men to invade Italy and proclaim the Duke of Orleans King of Adria after the fall of Bologna. Such a scheme, if successful, would knock the pillars out from Joanna’s northern supporters, and replace them with Angevin allies; and yet it depended on a fantasy, for the English had not agreed to a formal peace and objected strenuously to the proposed expansion of French power over the Italian peninsula. King Richard bluntly threatened a full resumption war if the French invaded Italy, viewing an attack on Rome as a violation of the truce; he threatened to withdraw from the planned conference between the two kings, a threat that was understood to sabotage the possibility of a lasting peace settlement.

    Azzone himself crossed from Spoleto into Naples on November 11, 1391 and attacked and routed a French force besieging Gaeta, the key fortress of Joanna’s widowed mother; the French, not anticipating an attack, had neglected to maintain adequate sentries, and were crushed between the garrison and the Italians. Many of their soldiers- Gascon or German mercenaries, defected outright to the Italians in the ensuing months; those that remained loyal were scattered, hounded, and bloodied over the winter in a brutally effective string of minor raids and skirmishes. These lesser victories led to a rash of defections in Apulia, as the local nobility were loyal only to themselves and opportunistically favored the winning side; the nobility here also favored the direct Capetian Anjou, being traditionally ill-disposed towards the central government in Naples and remembering their allegiance to Charles of Durazzo. They could be relied upon to defend their own territory against intruders, but this- as Azzone well recognized- was a double-edged sword, as the lesser nobles could be divided amongst themselves and threatened or bribed into a wary neutrality, if not defecting outright. Azzone himself was if anything more preoccupied by negotiations than the war, but by the beginning of April 1392 he could boast of having secured the eastern third of the kingdom for his wife’s cause, albeit tentatively. On May 1 of that year his agents bribed the garrison of St Elmo, which Ladislaus’ forced had held until 1389.

    Azzone’s endeavors were financed by his sovereign Pope Boniface of Rome, terrified at the great and impending danger posed by the French. Boniface schemed ultimately to bring the German King Wenceslaus into Italy and- after crowning him as Emperor- task him with defending the peninsula- and not coincidentally provide an alternative to the Visconti, who were by now too powerful for the Pope to control and too indispensable to destroy outright. Gian Galeazzo too hoped to bring the Germans into Italy, for the Duke hoped to impress upon his son-in-law the necessity of crowning him as king of Lombardy and thereby secure Italy against the French; yet the German king was too weak to intercede below the Alps, sabotaged by his own fecklessness and the difficult circumstances he had inherited from his mighty father Charles IV.

    Three great dynasties dominated German politics after the fall of the Hohenstaufens in the 13th Century: Luxemburg, Wittelsbach, and Habsburg. The reigning imperial dynasty- the House of Luxemburg- was ostensibly led by the indolent Wenceslaus IV of Bohemia, whose father Charles IV fixed the political contours of Germany with the Golden Bull of 1356. Wenceslaus was not his father's equal in ability or estates: the family lands had been partitioned on his father’ death- and this above all else was the king’s misfortune, for the German King in this era was no stronger than his dynastic patrimony: his half-brother Sigismund inherited Brandenburg; his uncle Wenceslaus I was duke of Luxembourg; his cousins Jobst and Procopius had divided Moravia; and John, another brother, was duke of Lusatia. Although Wenceslaus IV had inherited Luxembourg proper in 1383, he faced staunch resistance in the heart of his empire from the truculent Bohemian nobility- many of whom were gravitating towards the heterodox religious views of Jan Hus- and the continual meddling and insolence of his family. Sigismund and Jobst were both especially dangerous to Wenceslaus, the former having acceded to the throne of Hungary in 1386 and the latter continually intriguing against him in Bohemia. His German vassals were even more implacably hostile to the King, despising his inability to defend imperial rights in Italy or promptly resolve the Western Schism, even as they adamantly refused to offer him the resources necessary to maintain the German monarchy or advocate its interests.

    Closer to Italy were the Bavarian Wittelsbachs and Austrian Habsburgs, both families divided- like the Luxemburgs- into competing branches. John of Bavaria had reconciled with Milan, marrying his daughter to Gian Galeazzo II; his brothers John and Frederick were hostile to Gian Galeazzo, but Frederick's death led to a partition of his lands between Stephen and John, in which the latter- allied to Milan- got the better portion. The Wittelsbachs additionally held substantial lands along the Rhine: Stephen III's second cousin Rupert was Count Palatine and Elector, while his uncle Albert I was the count of Holland and Hainaut.

    The Habsburg clan was divided into two branches, the Albertinian and Leopoldine line. The family had gradually expanded to dominate southeastern Germany, seizing Tirol from the Bavarians in 1361, Trieste in 1382 from the Venetians, and inheriting Istria and Merania in the 1380s. The Leopoldines were further divided between Duke William the Courteous of Styria, Carinthia and Carniola, and the Count Leopold IV of Tirol. Both men were the sons of Viridis Visconti, daughter of Bernabo Visconti, and therefore had a claim to Milan; both had rallied arms throughout the end of 1390 and into early 1391. Both defied the will of Emperor and Pope and schemed to invade and conquer Italy.

    Gian Galeazzo was vaguely aware of a potential Austrian invasion and took steps to forestall it, appealing to his longstanding allies in the Swiss cantons for aid. The Swiss were old enemies of Austria, having slain Leopold III at the battle in 1379, and the confederation agreed to support Milan when the Austrians invaded, extending their prior alliance to pledge an army for the defense of the Veneto- and Milan itself if necessary- against the Germans. The Duke appealed also to his cousin Amadeus of Savoy, still believing him to be at least neutrally disposed, but Amadeus had already sold himself to the French, and deceived the Duke with his promises of friendship.

    Savoy's hostility originated in the deterioration of the delicate balance of power in Piedmont owing to Count Amadeus’s rapacious ambitions in the region. Gian Galeazzo endured an ambiguous relationship with the Savoy since his accession in Pavia, but Count Amadeus had supported his cousin's initial efforts in the Friuli. So long as France entertained the possibility of rapprochement with Milan the count toed the line, but he had expected concessions in Piedmont for his loyalty, which were not forthcoming from the Duke; on the contrary, after the fall of Bologna Gian Galeazzo had increased his support for the minor lords of Piedmont, admitting Montferrat, Asti, and Saluzzo into his League, hoping to dissuade them from joining the French. This, Azzone's marriage to Joanna, and the continued alliance between Milan and the Swiss led to an inexorable cooling in relations between Turin and Pavia, further complicated by the lapsed Angevin claims in southern Piedmont.

    Clement formally excommunicated Gian Galeazzo Visconti on 1392, and in June the Austrians descended into the Veneto. Gian Galeazzo seems to have been caught off guard, not expecting an attack from that direction, and Verona opened its gates to an Austrian army which included the exiled Carrara. Leopold of Austria was excommunicated by Boniface in consequence- but this only provoked him to declaring for Avignon and continuing the war under the banner of the Schism. Austria’s invasion in turn led the two Louis to accelerate their plans, and it became obvious that they would invade the following year.

    On 1392, while campaigning in Brittany, Charles VI of France had his first bout of madness. The King was accosted by a madman who attempted to seize his reins, shrieking all the while of treason; the madman was driven away, but the king put on edge. One of the king's standard bearers accidentally dropped his spear against the
    the helmet of a companion. The noise sent the king into a mad fit of rage. He struck and killed the standard bearer and attacked his own cousin Duke Philip of Burgundy; understanding that the king could not recognize them, his companions, out of fear, did not resist. Two more men were slain by the sovereign, and the Duke of Burgundy chased into the woods. Only after Charles had exhausted himself could Philip and his companions tackle their King and disarm him. Although it is impossible to properly diagnose a patient across the distance of centuries, to modern eyes it seems likely that Charles was suffering from a form of paranoid schizophrenia. Never a particularly capable monarch, his bouts of madness robbed the king of all political coherence, yet so long as he lived, he was inviolate. The French could not conceive of deposing a monarch; the King was sovereign, useless but indispensable. The nature of his illness worsened the situation, as the king enjoyed increasingly rare bouts of lucidity between his attacks; during these rare moments, which were unpredictable and could end at any time, the court had no choice but to seek his nominal approval. In practice power passed to the King's cousins, the royal princes, who exploited access to the King to wield his person as a stamp of authority. Charles' madness ennervated the French monarchy, sabotaging its foreign and domestic policy. Power passed to the great princes: the venerable Dukes of Burgundy and Berry, who were intent on signing a peace treaty with England and poorly inclined towards Louis' Italian expeditions; nevertheless, they were prepared to tolerate his schemes, if only to remove him from the court. Gian Galeazzo was viewed as a creature of the Germans- especially the Wittelsbachs, who were fighting the Burgundians over Holland; by weakening and diverting Imperial attention south, he hoped to divert their attention from the Low Countries. He also used the opportunity to seize the County of Vertus in Champagne, which Gian Galeazzo had inherited by his marriage to Isabella. Louis was thus determined to strike while he still held some influence, and able to force through the enterprise, in reduced form, with the approval of the Dukes of Burgundy and Berry.

    Austria’s invasion, and the continued threat from France, radicalized the political situation in Italy- in particular, it decisively altered the opinion in Venice, which until this point had been drifting into the Florentine camp. The Venetians had no love for Milan and less for the Pope, but resented and feared Austria- barely a decade ago, duke Leopold's annexation of Trieste and Treviso in 1381 represented a stark threat to traditional Venetian interests in the upper Adriatic. While Leopold III did not attack Venetian Treviso on his passage into Italy, he took Venetian passivity as a sign of weakness, and was already contemplating war with the Republic and perhaps even the annexation of the Veneto up to the Brenta; already the Venetians complained of the domineering and belligerent attitude of his ambassadors, and feared his intentions. It was in this context that Gian Galeazzo II entered the city to negotiate a renewed alliance between Milan and Venice.

    The younger Gian Galeazzo demonstrated a firm grasp of the republic's inner political workings. He recognized that the Republic was not a traditional Italian power, concerned far more with her Adriatic and Aegean colonies than with mainland affairs. Venetian involvement in the mainland was always reactive and opportunistic; the Venetians were principally concerned with protecting the critical trans-alpine trade routes and the main approaches to their city. The Visconti knew that the Republic resented Austria's domination of the Trentino and her repeated interventions against Venice in Friuli and Istria. The Prince was convinced that the republic was a natural ally against the Germans, and that if suitable concessions were made, they would fight determinedly and reliably against any army attempting to encroach on Italy's eastern frontier. More significantly, Gian Galeazzo II recognized that Venetian support was vital in the wars against Austria and eventually Sicily, and was prepared to make considerable concessions, offering Padua and Belluno as well as Polesine, Ferrara, and Ravenna in the Emilia. Azzone Visconti, on behalf of his wife, was additionally prepared to cede Angevin claims to Dalmatia and support their conquest of Trieste and Gorizia.

    Venice was not unwilling to create a new arrangement with Milan, but they wanted firmer concessions than what had been offered. They feared- correctly- that Milan was intriguing against them in Ferrara and Mantua and wished to avoid suffering the same fate as Florence. The Venetians wanted a permanent settlement on their western frontier, setting their common border with Milan along the Adda River- this would include Verona as well as Padua and perhaps the Trentino, as well as a free hand in Friuli- and above all else, they wanted entry into a new Lombard League, to secure the independence of the Signorotti of Lombardy by participating in a common confederation.

    Gian Galeazzo resented what he saw as Venetian intransigence, but the impending threat of a French invasion and the dire strait of the Friuli forced his hand, and the entreaties of his wife and sons finally swayed him to accept the deal; for the price of fair Verona, he would gain all of Tuscany- and the Iron Crown would surely fall into his lap, as his son-in-law was the Emperor. Venice, too, had come to conclude that dealing with Milan was preferable to the alternatives. Just as the Duke of Milan, in the final analysis, preferred a Venetian Verona to the Carrara or Austrians on his flank, Venice was now of the mind to take control over that city herself and deny it to other, potentially hostile, powers; and while Venice distrusted the Visconti, they had made profitable dealings with them in the past and preferred the relative security of a known and established Italian power to the unknown and probably hostile presence of a German army in northern Italy. Faced with a dangerous and uncertain choice and lacking the spine to force the issue, the Doge placed the matter before the Signoria of the Pregadi; the Senators of the Republic debated acrimoniously, but the times were desperate and the decision inexorable. On 1392 Venice formally declared war against the Duke of Austria. A new league was proclaimed at Mantua uniting the Viper and Lion in alliance with the Roman Pope and all the lesser powers of northern and central Italy.

    Writing a century later, Leonardo Nogarola, with characteristic Venetian arrogance, chastised the Florentines. “You say that we should fight alongside you because of a shared love of liberty, though this entails great danger and little profit for ourselves. Yet Florence invited the serpents into her den through her own warmongering ways... men are wicked. The indolent mob has no fealty or sentiment beyond fickle passion, and, lacking the offices and benefices of government, loves the prince as much as the republic; the great men seek their own private advantage, their ambition and pride fueled by their wealth. Only love of country can counter this ill, and such love emerges only through the benefices of good government, which naturally creates in the hearts of free men a familial love of their city. For this reason, our republic endured many trials, whereas yours succumbed at the first serious storm.” The full significance of Venetian participation in a League was obvious even to contemporaries; excepting Florence and Savoy all the states of Italy were now marching in unison against the invaders, and neither their arms nor their ambitions would be confined to the peninsula.

    Venice attacked Trieste by sea, landing a company of 2,000 mercenaries in Istria and blockading the city. Trieste had not been prepared for a siege, and although the city resisted valiantly for two weeks, Venetian artillery created multiple breaches in the landward walls, forcing a negotiated surrender to avoid a sack. In Veneto the Republic was able to bribe the mercenary company of John Hawkwood to defect into their service. Nearly seventy years old and married to one of Bernabo's daughters, the captain agreed to a comfortable retirement in Venice, where he would advise the doge's war council until his death in 1395; his company, nearly four thousand strong, entered a new contract with Venice and joined a Papal army in the Romagna to decisively defeat Leopold's army beneath the walls of Verona. Carrara drowned trying to cross the Brenta, and Leopold himself was captured. After this victory Venice invaded Trent, annexing the bishopric and the lands south of the Brenner Pass; by agreement with the Duke of Bavaria and the Swiss canton of Bern, Austrian Tirol was partitioned, Bavaria gaining the north- including the rich Innsbruck silver mines- and Venice the south, while the Swiss annexed Freiburg and the Vorlalberg in the west. After capturing Trieste, Venetians also pressured Count Meinhard IV of Gorizia to renounce his inheritance treaty with Austria and cede his county to them in exchange for a pension; the Republic defied the Emperor and annexed the whole of Istria and the Friuli, occupying the bishopric of Aquileia and driving its Moravian bishop into exile. Austria had been defeated, but all eyes turned west, for on June 1, 1393, Louis of Orleans crossed into Italy with ten thousand men, determined to conquer Bologna for Avignon.
     
    The Wilting Lily
  • The Wilting Lily​

    England observed Louis’ expedition with great trepidation, if not outright hostility. Their envoys at Leulinghem bluntly warned the French against attacking Rome, reiterating their hostility to a voie de fait accomplished by French arms and asserting that a French invasion of Italy violated the truce; though not going so far as to ally with Milan, the mere threat of renewed war with England diverted French attention and took the wind out of Louis’ sails, as did the skepticism and war-weariness of the powerful Duke Philip of Burgundy, by now the dominant player in French politics. Richard's government had generally maintained loyalty to Rome, but had disavowed Boniface upon the new Roman Pope's election, adopting a formal stance that neither Pope was legitimate; by the King's command, authority over the English Church was vested in a general “regency council” of English bishops.[1] This was in effect a proactive endorsement of the voie de cession and clearly intended to disavow both Avignon- despised as a French protectorate- and the Visconti “puppet” in Rome. In response to Clement's agitation for an invasion of Italy, Richard finally extended recognition to Pope Boniface, acting on the advice of John of Gaunt, who like Richard viewed a formal endorsement as necessary to restrain French aggression on behalf of Avignon. Nevertheless, observers on both sides of the Channel understood that a formal resolution to the Schism ultimately depended on a peace treaty ending the period of open war with France.

    In April 1392, while Louis was organizing his ill-fated Italian expedition, the French made a strikingly magnanimous peace offer to the English, promising to restore nearly all the lands ceded at Bretigny in 1360: the Périgord, Angoumois, Roergue, Quercy and Limousin, and an indemnity of 1.2 to 1.5 million francs in return for ceding claims to the territories confiscated in the fighting- Poitou, northern Saintonge, and Ponthieu in Picardy. As a further inducement, the French envoys intimated that they would be prepared to discuss terms to settle English claims vis a vis Brittany and Flanders in return for Aquitaine’s formal homage to King Charles. The peace was to be sealed by the marriage of Richard’s one-year-old son Edward, Prince of Wales, to Princess Isabella of France[2]. Although England would have to do homage to France for their continental holdings, Calais would remain in English possession, and the king of France agreed to meet with Richard to discuss the remaining principles: the final legal status of both Aquitaine and Calais- the former of which the French proposed granting to John of Gaunt as a French fiefdom- as well as the fate of La Rochelle and the intractable dilemma of homage, were to be resolved at a personal meeting of the two kings at Leulinghem on February 1394. Delighted by the offer, the English were thwarted from capitalizing on their diplomatic victory by circumstances beyond their control. Charles suffered another outbreak of madness in the waning days of the conference, this one far more serious and far longer, removing the King from the public eye for half a year. In the north of England opposition to the treaty catalyzed various local grievances into a general revolt. The Duke of Lancaster rushed back across the Channel at the end of June 1393, spending the next three months suppressing the unrest, primarily through buying off the mob with gifts and concessions; although the rebellion was quelled with relatively little bloodshed, it highlighted the difficult domestic situation of the English, especially John of Gaunt.

    The greatest obstacle to a lasting Anglo-French rapprochement was the intractable issue of homage. In September 1393 French and English legal scholars met and hashed out thorny issues regarding appeals courts, military service and other practical implications of Aquitaine being held as a fief of France; the French largely reiterated their contention that Aquitaine would remain under the oversight of the Royal Judiciary- a position which England was wholly unwilling to accept, as these very same courts had been utilized to confiscate the duchy in the 1330s, thereby starting the whole war. In February 1394 the terms of the treaty were read aloud in Parliament, echoing silently in a hall scarred by intense skepticism. The treaty faltered, predictably, on the difficult question of homage. None of the Lords thought the peace would last; if- or when- it collapsed, Richard would be bound by conflicting duties as Duke of Aquitaine and King of England. In that event the English Lords wanted a clause reviving the claim to the French throne, a term which the French themselves were not going to accept under any circumstance. Both the Lords and the Commons were greatly suspicious of the powerful John of Gaunt, who stood to benefit directly from the treaty as the Duke of Aquitaine. Parliament repudiated the peace amidst acrimonious insinuations between John of Gaunt and Lord Arundel regarding both the treaty and the insurrection in the north; Richard himself interceded on Gaunt's behalf, and Arundel- who overplayed his hand and came close to insulting the King directly- was disgraced; he received royal permission to excuse himself from all subsequent Parliaments, effectively signaling his withdrawal from the King's presence. While Arundel was the most vocal critic, he was far from the only person to hold misgivings over the terms presented. The English were in favor of peace with France, but not on the terms offered, believing that they could gain a better deal by holding firm- a false belief, as both Gloucester and Gaunt would have told them; the issue of sovereignty continued to plague the English even after the French offer was rejected. Nevertheless, the English would not intercede directly in the continent. In 1394 King Richard crossed into Ireland with five-thousand soldiers; within two years he would be dead, deposed by his cousin Henry of Lancaster, and his young son Edward ensconced on the throne.

    Louis’ entry into Italy confronted the Duke of Milan with his greatest military challenge, and it was a challenge that the Italians were not immediately prepared to meet openly. Much as the French had learned to do, the Italians refused to give battle, but withdrew behind their walls. This strategy had the difficulty of weakening the Visconti hold over Lombardy. Italy, at this time, had largely submitted to the Duke voluntarily, out of fear of Milan and from lack of a clear alternative; now that the French were the strongest force in Italy, the Duke’s allies began to question him, and rebels and dissidents gained ground. Genoa had never rested easily under Milan, and the capture of Savona by Enguerrand de Coucy on July 1, 1393 convinced the city to revolt against the Milanese. On July 19, the French besieged Pavia, vowing to sever the head of the serpent.

    Faced with a dire threat Gian Galeazzo turned to his greatest weapon: diplomacy. He readily appreciated the divide in the enemy camp and approached Louis and the Count Amadeus VII of Savoy separately, sounding out a possible agreement. His wife, Isabella of France, was chosen as the envoy, for even the haughty Duke of Orleans could not ignore a princess of the blood. Louis himself was ultimately quite amenable to negotiation; he was increasingly aware that his absence was politically dangerous to his influence in the French court. Pavia, moreover, was no easy target; the Duke retained the loyalty of his capital and had provisioned the city for a lengthy siege. Besieging a large city was a dicey proposition, and the French failed to bring any siege weapons. Gian Galeazzo offered to pay Louis an indemnity and acknowledge his claim to the Kingdom of Adria, in return for his immediate departure from Lombardy. Louis accepted the agreement against the fierce protests of the Anjou.

    Louis’ departure was spectacularly ill-timed for the French: Milan’s allies were already approaching the city. The Swiss crossed through the Gotthard in August with an army of fifteen-hundred soldiers drawn from the Cantons and joined with Ubaldini and the Venetians near Vicenza on September 11, 1393. The Swiss pikes were among the finest infantry of their day, aggressive and well-disciplined columns accustomed to fighting in rough Alpine terrain. On the fields of Lombardy, they would triumph over French chivalry, in a battle that would echo their earlier victories over Austria at Sempach and Nafels. The French, arrogant of victory, had lost all cohesion, their armies scattering to pillage the rich Italian countryside. On September 25, 1393, Italo-Swiss force bumbled into a large detachment of the French twenty miles from Pavia; both armies hastily deployed for battle, and Louis of Anjou- ravenous for glory and contemptuous of his enemies- placed himself at the vanguard. The French outnumbered their enemies, but a hasty assault proved their undoing. As at Sempach, the Swiss demonstrated a decisive advantage in close quarters melee; the heat of late summer likely also fatigued the French, heavily armored and unaccustomed to the heat. A final charge by Lombard cavalry under Ubaldini’s command broke the French, and Louis himself was overwhelmed and captured. Within a week he was dead, probably at the behest of Gian Galeazzo Visconti, for his death left his young brother Charles, fourteen years old, as the sole heir of the House of Anjou.

    The Angevin defeat did not immediately remove the French from Italy, but it did convince Amadeus of Savoy to defect back into the Milanese camp. Gian Galeazzo, despite his misgivings, allowed Amadeus to retain his lands and titles and accepted a status quo peace; Savoy discarded Avignon for Rome, and entered the Lombard League as an ally. Savoy’s defection was punctuated by the slaughter of the remaining French, who were hunted down and hanged as bandits over the following months.

    Louis of Orleans, ignorant of his cousin’s demise, was to be sorely disappointed upon his arrival at Bologna, for the bastard Gabriele Maria had taken up residence within the city and rallied it against the foreigners. The French had lost several gendarmes in skirmishing outside the city; Louis, enraged, ordered several captured Latins executed, viewing any armed resistance as an act of treachery and rebellion. This act, far from cowing the city, stiffened its resolve, and the Bolognese manned their walls against the foreigners.

    Azzone, demonstrating the audacious seizure of opportunity that defines great generals, decided that affairs in Naples were settled enough for him to depart the kingdom; the fate of Italy would be settled in the north, and he would not remain idle at the fulcrum of decision. Leaving his wife and retainers in Gaeta, he and “three lances” of cavalry rode north through Spoleto. That winter, with Boniface’s support, he pronounced a Crusade against the French, and bolstered his army with nobles drawn from the citizens of Latium and the Marche. His army, at this point, is generally given at approximately eight hundred men; Louis certainly had more than this, between two thousand and twenty-five hundred.

    The Neapolitans attacked Louis’s camp on October 4, 1394. He had hoped to catch Louis unawares, but a chance encounter with a French outrider spoiled the surprise. Nevertheless, Azzone and his cavalry pressed forward and engaged the French after a forced march, launching a risky night assault. Although initially successful at pressing into the enemy camp, the French eventually rallied under Louis’ personal leadership, and began to overwhelm the Italians. But Louis had neglected the Bolognese, who were roused by the din of battle and emerged from the walls arrayed for battle. Although the sallying force was comparatively small- chroniclers insist it was less than two hundred- the French had not anticipated an attack from that direction- some allege that the French erroneously believe the Bolognese part of the same army engaged in a flanking maneuver, as the French presumed not unreasonably that Azzone’s force was much larger than it was- and panicked, many fleeing into the night. Louis himself would be captured in the ensuing rout; all told, the Italians lost fewer than one hundred, while the French army was annihilated, more than a thousand slain in the rout or murdered where they had fallen the following day. The battle at Bologna cemented Azzone Visconti’s reputation as one of the preeminent military leaders of his generation and eliminated the last major obstacle to Milanese hegemony over Italy.

    Deprived of allies, Florence was inexorably surrounded and gradually starved into submission. An anti-Florentine revolt in Pisa in late October 1394 sealed the Arno. Azzone in the Marche and the Malatesta in the Romagna completed the encirclement, cutting of Florence's access to the Adriatic. Pope Boniface finally agreed to acknowledge the transfer of all Papal claims to the Marquesate of Tuscany in full to the lord of Milan, enfeoffing Carlo Maria Visconti with the title of Margrave; he also extended a Crusade against Florence, denouncing the city’s leaders as schismatics. Carlo Maria was crowned as Duke of Tuscany by a Papal legate in Siena on November 1, 1394, while his father's armies reconquered the Val de Chiesa and besieged Arezzo. The fall of the latter city finally sealed Florence's fate; the Visconti could now enforce a strict cordon around the city’s hinterland, disrupting the import of grain from Tuscany itself. Florence's oligarchic government was still determined to resist submission to the Lombards, but the Florentines were weary of war and famine, and rose against the Republic, blaming their leaders for provoking a needless conflict with the Visconti and abandoning Rome for the hated Avignon pretender. The city's new government surrendered, agreeing to admit Carlo Maria as their lord and electing him their Podesta.

    Naples surrendered to Queen Joanna on May 22, 1395. Joanna was formally crowned by Pope Boniface two days later on May 24, but the Anjou were not prepared to admit defeat. Azzone intended to force the issue by invading and seizing Provence, which he claimed in jure uxoris, and thereafter attack and dethrone the Avignon Pope. Wenceslaus of Germany confirmed Azzone’s claim to Provence on July 4, 1495. Yet the Emperor’s writ was barely less potent than the King of France- who had neither legal nor practical authority to intercede; the influence of Philip of Burgundy, on the one hand, and the Duke of Berry on the other secured a preponderant influence over the mad king Charles, as neither man had any interest in supporting the Avignon Papacy or financing a war in Italy.

    Charles of Anjou, backed by Avignon Pope Benedict, married the twelve-year-old princess Yolande of Aragon on June 15, 1395. In response Boniface of Rome pronounced a Crusade against the Aragonese kingdom. On September 14, 1395, Gian Galeazzo Visconti received the crowns of Sardinia, Corsica, and Sicily from the hands of the Pope in Bologna. A series of indulgences issued to finance the war in the Tyrrhennian, fulfilling his long outstanding promise to John of Armagnac. His son Carlo Maria took the opportunity to extend personal control over Tuscan finances, as Gian Galeazzo had done in Lombardy. The war for Sardinia proved immensely popular among the Genoese, who voluntarily re-submitted to Visconti rule and financed the construction of a fleet, hoping to regain their former colonies and privileges on the island. The Venetians also joined the war, eager to gain access to Sicily’s resources and destroy the possibility of a Catalan resurgence in Greece. The Italian states were now making a collective bid for hegemony over the western Mediterranean.

    John Aragon appealed vainly to the French and to the Castillan King Henry VI, but his only ally was to be the Count of Foix, archrival to the Armagnac and son-in-law by his marriage to the Princess, owing to the weakness of both kingdoms. Foix exacted a heavy price for his support, receiving the county of Roussillon and a promise that he would inherit Aragon in the absence of any legitimate male heirs; in effect, John was forced to set aside his bastard son, which was not an especially popular move in Aragon itself. The decree also incensed the Castillan Trastamara King Henry III and his brother Ferdinand, sons of Princess Eleanor of Aragon and claimants to the kingdom. Castille almost certainly would have interceded, but it was barely a decade from the disastrous battle at Aljubarotta, which slaughtered the flower of Spanish chivalry. The sudden death of John I on November 1, 1395[3] ended the house of Barcelona in the legitimate male line and plunged the kingdom itself into an immediate succession crisis. Sicily and Sardinia, isolated outposts of the greater Aragonese Crown, were left to fend for themselves.

    [1]This is a very serious divergence, but a probable repercussion of Azzone's Roman coup. Richard II came close to disavowing Rome OTL but stayed his hand due to fears of Avignon's dominance and as a bargaining position against the French. The sordid circumstances of Boniface's accession TTL, and the enhanced threat and stature of the Visconti- who are, unlike OTL, not seen as the creatures of Louis of Orleans due to Valentina's different marriage- pushed him over the edge. Even if it doesn't last long, England's Conciliarist interlude will have ramifications on the final denouement of the Schism and probably the Reformation as well.

    [2]I am taking a far more liberal attitude towards divergent births and deaths, and the presence of Richard’s son intrigues me.

    As to the French offer- neither Brittany nor Flanders were mentioned by the French in the OTL peace deal; here, the French are somewhat more desperate to buy peace, because Avignon, Louis of Orleans, and the Valois-Anjou are all chomping at the bit to invade Italy, and Charles (still somewhat lucid at this stage) is intrigued by Florence's offer of homage and the possibility of pulling a Charlemagne and becoming Holy Roman Emperor.

    [3]As historically, John fell from a horse. Or “fell.” The 14th century is a dangerous place.
     
    An Aragonese Affair
  • An Aragonese Affair​

    Gaston Phoebus, count of Foix, was the single most powerful magnate in southern France. Sovereign Viscount of Bearn and ruler of extensive estates in the Languedoc, he had prevailed over his Armagnac rivals to secure backing from the absentee John Duke of Berry, nominal governor of Toulouse and Occitania. Sixty-three in 1394,[1] he was determined to seat his cousin and heir Matthew on the Aragonese throne. This succession crisis was arguably another front for the Armagnac-Foix feud, as John III of Armagnac himself claimed Aragon by the dubious right of purchasing Isabella of Majorca’s claims; Isabella had already sold her claims, such as they were, to Louis of Anjou, and as the dispossessed princess of a cadet kingdom her claim had never been especially strong. Matthew in contrast had a much firmer dynastic basis for claiming Aragon- his wife was Joanna of Aragon, the late John I’s eldest daughter. Gaston moreover was well known and respected on both sides of the Pyrenees. Critically for the Aragonese, he was not operating as an auxiliary of the Visconti; upon Matthew’s entry into Barcelona, he was greeted enthusiastically, and sworn to defend the crown from foreign aggressors- meaning, implicitly, the protection of Catalan interests in Italy.

    Under the reign of the great Judicare Hugh III the Sardinians nearly annihilated Aragonese power on the island, reducing the Catalans to two lonely outposts- the port cities of Cagliari in the south and Alghero in the northwest. Aragonese power in Italy had frayed down to a taut thread. King James the Younger of Sicily died without issue in Palermo on 31 May 1392, prompting his father King Martin the Elder to proclaim his sole surviving son as King of Sicily. John had offered the eight-year-old Princess Margaret as a bride to the fifteen-year-old Louis II of Anjou, cementing an alliance against their mutual enemy the lord of Milan. Anjou maintained a continued presence in Naples until Joanna’s loyalists conquered the city in 1395, financed by regular shipments of gold and soldiers from France; the Anjou depended greatly on freedom of the seas, and thus especially the support and friendship of Aragon. The alliance between Aragon and Anjou was clearly aimed against both Naples and the Visconti; the match reflected a serious shift in the internal affairs of France, and a now obvious hostility to Milan, which until recently had been considered a potential ally. Gian Galeazzo's open adherence to Rome forced the French to confront the reality that Italy had slipped from their nerveless fingers.

    Gian Galeazzo recognized the danger and the opportunity in the moment. He determined to pre-emptively remove Spain from the Italian balance of power and claim the throne of Sardinia for himself in a single audacious stroke. The Duke had the backing of Armagnac, the support of Genoa and Venice, and the blessing of Roman Pope Boniface as well as his son-in-law and nominal sovereign the Holy Roman Emperor. Gian Galeazzo was additionally in contact with rebellious barons on the island of Sicily itself, and plausibly expected a warm welcome. Typically a prudent and cautious man, the Duke allowed himself to be lured by the circumstances and the appeals of the Sardinians into thinking that a purely naval campaign could eliminate the Aragonese hold on the island and that Sicily would thereafter tumble into his lap like an overripe fruit. He was also determined to take a proactive stance against the dangerous combination of Aragon and Anjou and evict them both from the peninsula before they could marshal their strength against him.

    Genoa took upon the burden of prosecuting the war, invading Sardinia on in conjunction with the forces of the Armagnac, who had entered the Duke’s service for precisely the cause of war against Catalonia; ostensibly a prelude to pursuing the Count's claim to Mallorca, the goal was seizing the Aragonese possessions of Alghero and Cagliari and subsequently pursuing a war against Catalan shipping in the Tyhrennian. Genoese privateers seized an Angevin treasure fleet on October 7, 1395, capturing more than forty thousand francs in gold along with many prisoners. Spanish Sardinia was thrown on its own meager resources, as the disorder of Sicily's government prevented an organized response to this naked act of aggression. Alghero fell to a rash French assault, and its Catalan population was massacred. Thereafter the Arboreans besieged Cagliari, intent on eliminating the final vestige of Aragonese control on their island.

    Contemporaneous with Genoa’s strike on Sardinia, Venice, in conjunction with soldiers from Naples, attacked Sicily, seizing Messina on August 4, 1395. A new rebellion broke out in the southeast, proclaiming Azzone Visconti king of Sicily. Syracuse was besieged and blockaded, but held out for nine months before finally capitulating on January 15, 1396. For his part Azzone Visconti was determined to invade Provence and strike directly at the Angevin-Avignon possessions in the Rhone valley. He claimed that territory with Imperial blessing, and was able to amass an army of fifteen hundred men thanks to a combination of his own reputation and a series of papal indulgences and loans; this was augmented by a levy of four hundred soldiers from the Piedmontese lords, who were now committed members of the Alliance and hoped to gain land and plunder in the west. Critically, Azzone also took it upon himself to purchase bombards from Burgundy, recognizing the possibility of a siege.

    The Count of Armagnac subsequently broke with the Latins and attacked the Balearics on his own initiative, capturing Ibiza on 1395 before besieging and capturing Palma on March 22, 1396. Thereafter the French lost all cohesion and began recklessly pillaging the island; this proved their undoing, as the Aragonese relief army arrived and decisively defeated them. Armagnac was slain along with most of his men, but the Genoese fleet- who were not aware of the Count's defeat- arrived with reinforcements, finding the Aragonese navy anchored outside Palma. Under the command of the fearsome admiral Antonio Grimaldi the Ligurians attacked and routed the Aragonese. The Catalans had more ships, but the Genoese had more men and many large cogs, which gave them a decisive height advantage in the grueling hand-to-hand combat. Grimaldi’s forces seized much of the Catalan fleet, killing six hundred of the Aragonese sailors and capturing a thousand more; fifteen Aragonese ships were captured as prizes of war, and more than a hundred razed, effectively destroying Aragon as a naval power for a generation. The loss of Aragon's fleet finally sealed the fate of Cagliari. As Grimaldi began pillaging the Catalan coast, Cagliari's garrison surrendered on June 22, 1396, given parole to depart back to Spain with their possessions, lives, and arms. A rash of defections in Sicily followed in the ensuing months, and by the end of the year Azzone Visconti had the nominal allegiance of nearly all the island, save only Malta in the south and Catania in the west, which still held defiantly for the King of Aragon.

    Count John III’s demise effectively destroyed the Armagnac political fortunes. His brother, Bernard VII, succeeded to the throne and immediately sought the mediation of King Charles. In a rare moment of lucidity Charles ordered Gaston to cease his attacks on Comminges. Gaston, not quite prepared to break with the monarchy, agreed to submit to arbitration, but wrested a high price- he secured his cousin’s recognition as King of Aragon. Navarre and Portugal had already agreed to back his claims, for both kingdoms needed little encouragement to thumb Castille’s nose; but for France to extend such recognition was a colossal strategic blunder, as it reinforced the estrangement between France and Castille, her traditional ally in Iberia. Within two months of Charles’ decree, Castillan emissaries arrived in London, offering an anti-Foix alliance to the Lord Regent Henry of Lancaster. Henry, we are told, “practically fell out of his seat in delight” and readily acceded to the alliance, for he knew as well as his late father John of Gaunt that the Franco-Castillan alliance was the backbone of the French reconquest of Gascony, and the separate peace treaty and alliance, though it did not directly terminate the Franco-Castilian Alliance, signalled a growing reproachment between the great power of Iberia and the English monarchy. Indeed Henry, the Lord Regent, was Henry of Castille’s brother by marriage, as John of Gaunt had given Henry his daughter to seal the renunciation of his claims to that kingdom and a general peace. Both Portugal and Castille were now bound to the House of Lancaster by marriage; Spain was now lost to French influence and their position in Gascony upended completely.

    Indeed, as the century closed, France found herself dangerously isolated and exposed. Castille, her longstanding ally, reiterated her newfound antipathy by formally disavowing Avignon. Not quite willing to embrace Rome, King Henry III of Castille followed Richard II of England’s example and proclaimed both Popes illegitimate; pending a general Council, he invested clerical authority in a general council of Castillan Bishops, which henceforth would govern and administrate the Catholic Church under Henry’s own auspices. Henry was an energetic and ambitious monarch, intent on clawing back lapsed royal power from the truculent Spanish nobility; he was preoccupied with lingering raids and skirmishes along the Portuguese border and unable to muster the resources to stake his claim to Aragon but determined to seize control over the Church and use its power to buttress his royal authority.

    On September 16, 1396, Pope Clement of Avignon died of a heart attack at the age of fifty-four.[2] For eighteen years, France's stated policy was to enforce church unity through force of arms- an invasion of Italy to install Clement in Rome as the sole Pope; this was the voie de fait, or path of force. Except for Louis of Orleans- now a prisoner in Pavia- the French court, dominated since 1392 by the Duke of Burgundy, approached an alternative consensus around a voie de cession- mutual abdication of the two Popes allowing a third compromise candidate to be elevated by a general European council. In June 1395 the University of Paris, at the request of the French Royal Council, formally endorsed the voie de cession. While Clement lived, fond memory of his patron Charles V prevented the court from acting decisively against Avignon. His death therefore precipitated a confrontation.

    A hasty meeting of the royal council dispatched a letter to the Avignon conclave, attempting to prevent the election of Clement's successor, as it was generally thought that one pope would be more easily pressured to abdicate than two. The messenger arrived in Avignon on September 22, 1396, only to be ignored by the Conclave as it was sealing itself away; two days later they elevated Pedro de Luna as Pope Benedict XIII.

    At the time of his election de Luna was an impressive figure. Relatively old at sixty-six, he was an accomplished canon lawyer, intelligent and energetic, and an experienced and savvy diplomat, having served much of his nineteen years as cardinal as a papal diplomat in Spain and France. Yet he was also arrogant, headstrong, and prickly, unlikely to yield to any man, even the king of France. Before the election every cardinal present had sworn an oath to work for the unity of the church, even to the point of abdication, but whether de Luna ever was sincere in his oath, it became clear that he was never going to willingly abdicate after donning the Papal tiara. On October 22, 1396, the Dukes of Berry, Burgundy, and Orleans arrived at Avignon with over 5,000 soldiers and hangers on. Five days later, on October 27, Pope Benedict revealed his own proposal for resolving the Schism. He proposed a general council- a voie de convention- whereby he and Boniface would meet at a neutral location along with their cardinals and negotiate a resolution of the Schism.

    After wasting several days vainly pressing Benedict for a voie de cession, the Duke of Berry convened across the Rhone with the French Cardinals, browbeating them into pressing for Benedict's abdication; the assembly returned to Avignon, only to find Benedict as recalcitrant as ever. The Avignon Pope demurred, protesting that a lay government could not interfere in the affairs of clergy, and excoriating the high-handed attitude of the French clergy; he further demanded that the French take up arms against the Latins, who had just captured Tolone and were menacing Avignon. On October 25 the Cardinals came before the Pope and declared their support for the voie de cession. A week later they threatened to formally advise the Pope's abdication, which would have activated the oath he had given prior to his election; Benedict rejoined that they had no authority to act without his approval and forbade them from further talks with the French nobles, confiscating the documents they had brought with them to petition the Holy See. On October 8 he piously declared that he would rather burn as a martyr than abdicate; the Duke of Berry replied candidly that the Lombards would grant his wish and France would not defend or mourn him.

    While the French were bickering, Isabella of Milan arrived and greeted her brother Philip as an envoy for her husband. Her son was even now engaged in the siege of Marseilles, and in fact he had detached one hundred men from his army to accompany her as an honor guard; his army, within days of Avignon proper, gave her words the weight of many mailed fists. She offered to support Philip and pledge Italy to a voie de cession- if her son’s claims were acknowledged, she vowed to immediately release Louis of Orleans and certain other high-ranking prisoners, such as Enguerrand de Coucy, into Duke Philip’s custody. Philip attempted to secure a cession of Joanna’s claim to Provence, to which Azzone famously replied that he would decide the matter with steel, not silver; by now contemptuous of the French, he wrote his father that with five thousand men “he should march from the Alps to the Atlantic and damn the English and the French both.”

    The blockade of Marseilles finally broke Benedict’s nerve, causing him to demand on pain of excommunication, that Philip and Duke John of Berry march against the invaders. Instead, the Duke of Burgundy’s soldiers arrested Pope Benedict and he entered an alliance with his sister, pledging his three-year-old daughter for Azzone’s eldest son Carlo Galeazzo and vowing to give the couple Avignon as a wedding dowry. Philip knew more than any man that the whole might of France would be required to wage a war against the Italians, and that only the King could muster such an army; but Charles was not the man to lead France into a long and fruitless war on her southern frontier. Moreover, he had no interest in backing the pretenses of the Anjou’s sixteen-year-old pretender, grandiosely overinflated by the Avignon Papacy; he was far more concerned with winning Visconti support for a mutual abdication of both popes and a resolution to the Schism. Moreover, Azzone pledged to join the French in a new Crusade against the Turks, who had recently destroyed Bulgaria and were menacing Italian interests in the Aegean and Black Seas. Louis was dutifully released to his uncle’s custody on the following year, and the Italians took up the banner of the Cross alongside the house of Burgundy. The matter of Pope Boniface’s forced abdication was, for the moment, left unaddressed.

    [1]I’ve given Gaston a bit of an extended lease on life. Historically he died in 1391.

    [2]This is two years after his OTL death. I’ve pushed his death back somewhat spontaneously to synchronize the timeline somewhat, given what followed from his death historically.
     
    Across the Adriatic
  • Across the Adriatic

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    Since the Fourth Crusade, the Italian states bitterly contested the scraps of the dying Byzantine Empire. Venice had claimed and occupied much of the Aegean Littoral, securing control over Crete and numerous outposts and islands in the Peloponnese. One of these colonies, the island of Tenedos, had been abandoned by the Venetians in compliance with the terms of the Treaty of Turin at the conclusion of the War of Chioggia in 1381. Venice had been obliged to pass the island to Savoy and thence to Genoa, but the strategically vital position was too sensitive for the Venetians to willingly comply, and it was eventually negotiated that the island would be depopulated and its buildings razed, denying it to either power. Venice nevertheless maintained a clear interest in the island, preventing both the Knights of Rhodes and the Genoese from fortifying it. Azzone Visconti, on behalf of his father, had made “certain guarantees” as to the island’s disposition in return for supporting his claims to Albania, and Venice was determined to pre-emptively press her claims. A Venetian fleet was tasked with garrisoning the island and guarding the Bosphorus, which gave the republic a clear stranglehold over the Dardanelles.

    The Lombards began assembling their army at Ancona throughout 1397, joined as well by Azzone Visonti and soldiers from both Naples and France; John, Count of Nevers and the young heir of Burgundy, departed for Italy on May 22, 1397, taking a long and meandering path through southern Germany and the Alps; he delayed for two months in the court of the Bavarian Duke, only crossing into Lombardy on September 15, 1397, being greeted by Gian Galeazzo himself at Mantua. He would depart from Venice for Albania on October 22, with a force of five thousand Frenchman; also in his company was the venerable Enguerrand de Coucy, recently released from his custody in Pavia, and a force of one thousand Lombards.

    Azzone Visconti had departed Provence by sea, arriving in Pisa on April 19, where he was feted by his brother Carlo Maria, Duke of Tuscany, and his young bride Margaret of Urgell, daughter of James II of Urgell, pretender and claimant to the throne of Aragon.[1] James, who had no sons, had first unsuccessfully sought to marry his daughter to Ferdinand of Aragon, but his refusal to surrender his claim to the whole kingdom had incensed the Castillians, and by extension the English (allied by marriage to Henry of Castille) and Navarre (allied likewise to Foix), leaving him with few prospects for an alliance. Given his father’s truce with Foix and France, Carlo Maria had little to offer his pauper’s bride, but he had nevertheless sought and received James’ claim on the Kingdoms of Sardinia and Sicily as dowry, and undoubtedly entertained delusions of further glory in Iberia. Nevertheless, his father’s ambitions tended now in the opposite direction, and Azzone Visconti himself- intending to press the old Angevin claims in Greece- prevailed upon his brother to support a war against the Turks, agreeing to purchase Carlo Maria’s claim on Sicily by pawning his estates in Spoleto.

    The Venetians, according to the terms of their alliance, agreed to reinforce the Neapolitans with a company of twelve hundred mercenaries- recruited predominately from Switzerland and Germany- in return for the concession of Angevin territorial rights in Vlore and Durres. Prince Azzone crossed from Ancona to Durazzo on June 22; his army is given at two thousand in total, half Neapolitans from his wife’s kingdom.

    Azzone crossed early with the intention of opening negotiations with the Albanian princes. At this time Albania was loosely governed by four great magnates, excluding coastal enclaves held by the Venetians or Neapolitans: the Dukagjini ruling in the far north, who in 1393 had ceded Lezhe to Venice; John Kastrioti ruling the dominant Albanian principality in the center of the country; Thopia Zenevisi ruling from Gjirojaster in the south; Teodor III Muzaka ruling from Berat in between Gjirokaster and Kastrioti. Venice had finally taken up the government of Valona in 1394, in preparation for the Crusaders arrival in the region, and secured the submission of the Dujagjini. Azzone, claiming the Angevin Kingdom of Albania on behalf of his wife, succeeded in winning the loyalty of these princes over several months of strenuous negotiations, aided by his decision, in early July 1397, to invade Ottoman Serbia, still unsettled following the annexation of the local principalities of Ohrid and Vardar by the Ottomans after the deaths of its princes two years previously.

    In a daring attack Azzone took Ohrid under the cover of night on 5 July 1397, catching its garrison unaware and slaughtering them to a man. His army, reinforced by the Albanians, numbered roughly three thousand men, mostly mounted, but the Albanians were by and large operating as independent raiding companies. The castle town of Bitola was bribed into defecting, but- lacking siege equipment- the Lombards withdrew back into Albania, evading the Turks and returning with their plunder to Durazzo.

    Bayezid's army was at that time besieging Constantinople. Upon learning of the raid, he immediately broke the siege and rode west, demonstrating to the Crusaders how he had earned the moniker of the Thunderbolt. He fell upon and destroyed the Athenians on June 22, sacking Athens proper before marching back north and invading Albania. He defeated an Albanian army near Vlore and thereafter besieged the city, but news from the east forced him to split his forces. On July 9 the Knights Hospitaller, in combination with a Franco-Genoese force including Philip of Burgundy, annihilated a Turkish army at the Battle of Magnesia. Ionia was defenseless against the Latins, who sacked and occupied Ephesus on July 11, secured the surrender of Philadelphia on the 13th and Magnesia itself on the July 19 after a difficult siege. In desperation the Beys of Mentese, Aydin and Sarukhan abandoned Bayezid and appealed for protection to the Emir of Karaman, largest of the Anatolian beyliks and a longstanding rival of the Ottomans in Asia Minor. Karaman raised an army of fifteen thousand ghazis and marched into Ottoman territory, besieging Ankara on August 4 and asserting his claim to all of Ottoman Bythinia.

    Bayezid's decision to split his forces was understandable under the circumstances but ultimately disastrous. Azzone finally welcomed his father's army in Durazzo on 15 June 1398, along with further reinforcements from Italy, bringing his total force to over seven thousand, a decisive numerical advantage over Celebi's army. He determined to lift the siege, and on 2 August, while Bayezid was crossing the Hellespont at Gallipoli, approached Ohrid, still firmly resisting the Ottomans. At Ubaldini's suggestion the Prince split his army. The majority of his cavalry, under Ubaldini's command, was concealed in the woods north of the town; the remaining half of the army, roughly four thousand men, approached the Ottoman camp under the prince's command and attempted to lure the Turks into open battle. Initially Celebi maintained his army behind their camp. The Ottomans had anticipated the possibility of an attack and completed a circumvallating trench and palisade. Seeing that the Turks would not give battle Azzone ordered his archers forward to fire volleys into their ranks. From two hundred yards- out of effective range for the enemy bowmen- the Ligurians loosed two volleys into the enemy camp, killing several dozen horses and men. At this Celebi lost control over his Ghazis; like their Crusader counterparts, these holy warriors were motivated by the opportunity for glory and plunder, and comparatively ill disciplined; they were not prepared to simply wait passively under fire from a numerically inferior force. Seeing that his cavalry preparing to attack, Celebi abandoned his misgivings and ordered an advance, leaving his camp with the better part of his army. As the Ottomans advanced on the Italians, Ubaldini sounded his own advance, emerging from the woods. Outnumbered, and caught by surprise, the Turkish cavalry was cut off and slaughtered almost to a man. Azzone then immediately ordered and led a general assault on the remaining Turkish warriors, still encamped behind their walls, hoping to capitalize on the victory to rout the demoralized survivors. The Duke’s Swiss allies took the tip of the advance and won much glory, suffering heavy losses but succeeding in breaching the camp “over the bodies of fallen friend and foe alike” as the prince's chronicle related it. A brutal melee ensued, in which the prince himself would be sorely wounded, losing two fingers to a Turkish saber; but the ultimate outcome was not in doubt. By nightfall Celebi and his army were destroyed. The Turks suffered two thousand dead and as many captured, in what was to that point the worst battlefield defeat the Sultanate had faced since the rise of Osman a century prior.

    Azzone's victory had the effect of convincing Sigismund to resume his war with the Turks by invading Bulgaria. Sigismund’s grip on Hungary had always been tenuous; Hungary was an elective monarchy with a proud and truculent aristocracy, and the Luxembourg dynasty was quite recently established on the throne. Sigismund had succeeded the Angevin king Louis the Great via his marriage to Louis' daughter Mary, Queen of Hungary, but Mary's reign had not been popular, and many of the magnates had favored Charles III of Durazzo, King of Naples. Charles had entered Buda unopposed and received the crown of Hungary on 31 December 1385, but he was murdered at the behest of Mary's mother Elizabeth in February 1386, sparking a civil war. Mary and her mother were captured by Charles' supporters on 25 July, and Elizabeth was executed in January 1387, while Mary herself was released and proclaimed co-ruler alongside her husband; Mary died, heavily pregnant, on 17 May 1395, after falling from her horse during a hunting trip. Sigismund thus ruled alone with an exceedingly tenuous claim to the throne. The King had been forced to concede much of the royal demesne to his followers and faced continued opposition from the Horvathys in the lands along the southern frontier, who continued to hold out for Ladislaus of Naples, Charles' son and heir, with the support of King of Bosnia. It was not until 1395 that this rebellion was finally crushed, but Sigismund was keenly aware that the embers of rebellion were not yet extinguished and hoped to utilize the Crusade to enhance his standing with the nobility.

    In the wake of his victory at Vlore Azzone determined to seize the city of Thessalonika, arriving outside the walls on 5 August. A Venetian fleet arrived the following day, enforcing a blockade and bringing with them further supplies and eleven heavy siege cannons. Azzone, flanked by an envoy of the Greek Emperor John Paleologos, demanded- and received- the city's surrender on behalf of the Byzantine Empire, but the Turkish garrison withdrew to the citadel of Heptapyrgion and resisted, forcing the Prince to commit to a siege. For seven weeks the citadel was bombarded by heavy cannons- one of the first known uses of gunpowder artillery in the Mediterranean- and the Turks were eventually forced to submit. The Latins offered fairly lenient terms, allowing the garrison to depart with their banners, weapons, and horses, as well as up to 5,000 florins of personal property; in return they swore an oath not to take up arms against the Latins or the Greeks for at least a full two years. Azzone's army- aware of Bayezid's likely return- worked frantically to prepare the city for a siege, shoring up the walls as much as they could, widening the moat, adding new hoardings, and pressing able bodied citizens into service along the walls. Much of its civilian population- women, children, the elderly and infirm- was expelled, boarding Venetian ships, and sent away to Athens, while ships brought in food and supplies.

    During this period, Bayezid confronted the Karamanids on September 12 and routed them, chasing the Bey back to his capital. Thereafter he attacked and routed the Knights of Rhodes under the walls of Philadelphia on September 20, killing the Knight Commander and chasing the survivors within the city. It was here, on October 1, that he learned of the disaster in Macedonia and Azzone's attack on Thessalonika. Anxious now to return to Europe, he negotiated a truce with the remaining knights, allowing them to depart to Smyrna with their arms and plunder; the Knights could keep Ephesus and other coastal territories they had conquered but were obliged to release their captives and abandon the crusade. Bayezid now returned across the Bosphorus on October 9, narrowly evading a Venetian patrol, but it was too late for Thessalonika's garrison, which had already fallen on September 22 after being stormed and slaughtered by the Crusaders.

    Bayezid arrived outside Thessalonika on October 19, but in truth he had little stomach for a protracted siege. The Hungarian invasion greatly aggrieved the Sultan. He could not take the risk of splitting his army again. Vaguely aware of European affairs, he overestimated Gian Galeazzo's power, and the weight of the forces arrayed against him; he is said, in Italian recountings, to have feared that “the Lord of Italy, and his master the Pope of Rome” had marshaled Europe under their banner. That left three options- taking Thessalonika by assault, signing a truce with the Latins, or confronting and defeating Sigismund before he could join with the Italians. Bayezid, bold as ever, chose the latter option, and broke his camp and withdrew north.

    The Ottoman withdrawal prompted jubilations in the city, but also an acrimonious debate. Azzone wanted to pursue Bayezid- if necessary, all the way to the Danube- in order to effect the joining of his forces with Sigismund. His generals unanimously voiced their opposition to this rash scheme. They were skeptical of Sigismund's actual presence or commitment to the Crusade, and dubious as to the prospects of a pitched battle even if the two armies could unite. Ubaldini referenced the Battle of Hastings, warning the Prince that he risked being caught out of position like Harold Godwinson. “An army, having taken good ground, abandons their position at its own peril,” he cautioned. “To go from this place into the unknown country of the enemy opens us to destruction.” Ubaldini feared the withdrawal was a trap, a ploy to lure them out of the walls and then destroy them before confronting the Hungarians; this possibility, and the uncertain disposition of Sigismund, persuaded Azzone to heed his generals' advice and remain behind the walls. He would not go running to Sigismund's aid; the decisive battle would take place with or without them. Nevertheless, he insisted on dispatching a force of Albanian stratioti under John Kastrioti to harass and harry the Ottoman force and sent a dozen volunteers to ride north and attempt to contact the Hungarians.

    Sigismund's army, numbering roughly five thousand knights and mounted men at arms, was less an invasion than a raid. Sigismund was wary of being caught out of position, and unable to bring his full levies given the lateness of the season. He therefore resolved on a grand chevauchee through Bulgarian Macedonia in the fashion of John of Gaunt's famed ride through France. This grand tour de force intended to show the flag, despoil the countryside, and inspire disloyalty among the Slavs in preparation for a proper invasion in the following spring. Politically the King of Hungary likely also wished to be seen participating, rather than allow his Italian rivals claim full credit for the campaign, and to win the loyalty of his unruly bannermen by leading them in battle and offering ample opportunity for glory and plunder.

    News of Bayezid's approach broke Sigismund’s nerve. He was ultimately not inclined to pass south into Thessaloniki; mistrust of Azzone, who was the brother-in-law of Ladislaus of Naples, prevented him from contemplating a formal alliance, and he was anxious to avoid the danger of open battle against the superior numbers of the Turks, particularly given the onset of winter. His army was contacted by the Italian heralds on November 22 in Bulgaria, and- learning of Azzone's forces and disposition- determined to withdraw west into Albania. His smaller force easily outmaneuvered Bayezid's cumbersome army, which had been forced to bring its siege train along, and entered Albania on November 29, stopping at Ohrid in Macedonia to double its garrison. This, and a similar effort to strengthen the Durazzo garrison upon his arrival, immediately aroused the ire and jealousy of the Latins, who feared that he intended to claim Albania for himself.

    Bayezid was determined to pursue Sigismund, but unable to catch him he doubled back out of Albania, taking significant losses from roaming stratioti in the command of the Duklajini. Frustrated, Bayezid returned to Ohrid, determined to avenge his fallen Vizier and expunge the humiliation of his defeat with Christian blood. Equally determined to defend the City of Churches was its garrison: nearly five hundred men, including eighty-six Hungarian knights. The Latins eagerly invested the four months since the town's capture strengthening its walls with brick and loose stones, adding a new moat filled with water from the lake and an outer glacis, giving the defending cannons- of which there were twenty-nine- and soldiers enhanced field of fire; the remaining citizens, terrified of a sack, joined in the defense. Bayezid impetuously ordered an assault, which was repulsed with heavy losses. Latin losses are unknown, but probably heavy. Bayezid's army then settled in for a siege, intending to capture the city and lure out the Christians in its defense. Precise numbers are always uncertain, but the Ottoman army outside Ohrid is believed to have numbered around thirteen thousand after the losses suffered during the assault. Notably Bayezid had fourteen heavy siege guns, hauled into the mountains of Macedonia from Thessaloniki. Had Azzone and Sigismund been able to combine their forces, then- together with the garrison- they would have had an army that was on paper equal to the Turks, but this was impossible due to mistrust and miscommunication, and given Bayezid’s own skill as a commander such a joinder would have been quite dangerous to effect in practice. Later scholars excoriate the Crusaders, emphasizing the diffuse waste of effort and short-sighted attempt at taking territory as contributing to the ultimate strategic failure of the campaign, but given the political realities of the coalition it is unlikely that any of its participants could have enforced a coherent strategy.

    In Thessalonica the Italians continually refused to bestir themselves, although Azzone did dispatch half of his army east to seize Kallipolis. He had initially assigned the task to the Genoese so as to placate them, but the Venetians protested vociferously; the Prince finally gave his banner to the Neapolitans and tasked them to take Kallipolis in the name of his wife Joanna, Queen of Romania. As Naples enjoyed amicable relations with both merchant republics this alleviated the tensions and prevented either city from claiming the spoils. Latin soldiers succeeded in taking the town by surprise. As at Thessalonica the predominately Greek citizens- upon receiving the emissary from John and witnessing the strength of the Latins- opened their gates and swore fealty to the Basileus, although the garrison retreated to its citadel along with the Turkish population. Gallipoli surrendered to the Latins on November 11, giving the Crusaders a vise grip over the Dardanelles.

    As Ohrid's situation deteriorated, Azzone finally committed to marching in its relief, and provoking the Hungarians to rally out from Albania. After dispatching a courier by sea to Sigismund he marched on November 24. Yet the Prince was too late. After six weeks of grueling bombardment, the desperate citizens- facing starvation and lack of firewood at the onset of winter- finally struck a deal with Bayezid. He promised not to harm their lives or their churches in return for expelling the Christians and opening the gates. No sooner did the Turks enter then they massacred the male population and enslaved the survivors. Wrothtful and despondent, Bayezid ordered his men to raze the town. Its walls, its buildings, its beautiful Byzantine churches all went up in smoke. “Wretched city,” Bayezid proclaimed, “murderer of the martyrs, defiant traitors and oathbreakers. I denounce you, I execute you, I destroy you by the will of God; you shall never again know peace with the House of Osman.”

    Bayezid's anger was understandable. Sieges are as costly to the attacker as the defenders. Between disease, desertion, the general attrition of battle and bombardment by enemy archers and artillery, the Ottoman army had been reduced to less than half its original strength, roughly eight thousand men- in total, the campaign had cost Bayezid at least ten thousand soldiers in the siege, on top of the four thousand killed or captured in open battle four months prior. What was worse, affairs in Anatolia were increasingly preoccupying the Sultan, especially the fulminating hostility of the Emir Timur the Lame.

    We are told, by the chroniclers, that “The Sultan had pressed farmers into his ranks, giving them the arms of his fallen, and placed them by the side of his soldiers. By the light of these new camps, and the many men he had at his side, it seemed that his army was unbloodied by its many trials...” Italian chroniclers considerably overestimated Bayezid's army, whether because of Turkish deception or more likely to make their withdrawal more palatable in Europe. Azzone in truth was inclined to sue for terms by this point so he could consolidate his gains; moreover, he was by now aware of his brother-in-law Wenceslaus’s deposition, and wished to return home and intervene in Germany. The Ottomans too had another front to worry about- Tamerlane, last of the steppe conquerors, who had recently crushed Tokhtamysh of the Golden Horde and was about to invade the Delhi Sultanate.

    Bayezid offered to acknowledge all the Lombard pretensions in the Adriatic and Aegean- the Italians would have dominion over the feuding princes west of the Dinaric mountains, as well as the flotsam of the Byzantine Empire: the Despotate of Epirus, the Morean Greeks and Frankish Achaeans in the south, Athens and Thessaly and the Peloponnese, the Boetoan cities of Salona and Bodonitsa, and all the Greek Isles, including Tenedos and Imbros at the gorge of the Hellespont. He additionally agreed to acknowledge Hungarian suzerainty vis a vis Wallachia, Bulgarian Vidin, and Kosovan Serbia, a rich prize due to its ample gold mines. The Knights of Rhodes would retain Ephesus and Palatia and the Ionian littoral around Smyrna. For the return of Gallipoli Bayezid was additionally prepared to offer Byzantium Thessaloniki, the Chalcedonian Peninsula, Nikomedia and the Asiatic shores of the Bosphorus, a renunciation of all tribute payments and other concessions extorted from the empire, as well as conceding the Thracian Black Coast up to Mesembria, and a cash indemnity for Emperor John of 12,000 florins annually for the rest of his life. Finally, he was prepared to swear a truce of ten years- the maximum allowed to infidels under Islamic law- and pay both Sigismund and Azzone 200,000 florins each and an additional 50,000 for every year of the truce maintained by both parties.

    [1]This is an ATL daughter of James II of Urgell. As far as I can tell he had no daughters OTL, but he did have a son, and I am more than willing to play around with numbers and genders of children.
     
    The Shadow Kingdom
  • The Shadow Kingdom

    Azzone Visconti returned to Italy in triumph, to find a dishonest peace between the nations of Europe. King Richard of England was overthrown in 1399, less than a year after Emperor Wenceslaus of Bohemia was formally deposed by a coalition of German vassals. Ruprecht of Bavaria, Elector of the Palatinate, was elevated by the four Rhenish electors- Ruprecht himself and the Archbishoprics of Mainz, Trier, and Cologne. Wenceslaus- a man practically imprisoned by his own Bohemian nobility- lacked the ability or the skill to placate his German vassals, and his seeming inability to confront either the Visconti or the Schism infuriated them.

    Wenceslaus had followed the lead of the Burgundians and Visconti and attempted to formulate a Church Council in 1396, which was interrupted by the Crusade against the Turks- just as Boniface had intended. His Bohemian vassals, influenced by the fulminations of the radical Jan Hus, pressured him into following the Anglo-Spanish example and he separated the Bohemian church from Rome’s oversight; this move strengthened his support with his Czech vassals but destroyed his reputation among the Germans, who viewed the act as contrary to imperial dignity. The Imperial Church was a deep-rooted institution especially valuable to the lesser nobility, who could in theory become quasi-sovereign imperial princes through nomination to independent prince-bishoprics within the Empire; Wenceslaus’ action was taken among these lords as a first step towards potentially dispossessing the Imperial Church of its wealth. Indeed, Wenceslaus began asserting royal prerogatives over the Bohemian clergy, taking control over church appointments and tithes in his dual role as King and Emperor. This was well in line with what the Bohemian Hussites desired and substantively like concessions granted by the Papacy to powerful kings such as the Valois, but Wenceslaus’ unilateral action- he could not, after all, seek a concession from a pope he formally denounced as illegitimate- awakened old fears of imperial caesaropapism among the Germans. Within Bohemia itself, his patronage of the Hussites dovetailed with his reliance on the lesser nobility, which infuriated the great magnates. In 1394 the powerful Henry III of Rosenburg, de facto count of Prague, led the formation of the League of Lords, a collection of the major aristocratic families acting against King Wenceslaus. On June 11, 1397 they assassinated four of Wenceslaus’ advisors from among the lesser nobility, an act for which they escaped all punishment. The Cession of the Bohemian Church was the final straw for these men, and they decided to depose him.

    Wenceslaus was a weak king, but even a second Charlemagne would have struggled under the circumstances. He lacked the ability to confront the Visconti and so allied with them; in so doing he aggravated the German lords and made himself appear a Visconti puppet. Worse still, he faced constant intrigues from his kinsman, especially the paranoid and diffident Sigismund of Hungary. His Lombard wife, Valentina Visconti, finally gave birth to a son on September 22, 1398; rumors and allegations as to the child’s patrimony began almost immediately, likely fostered by Jobst or Sigismund, but the Germans and Bohemians were both quite willing to believe the worst of the Italian princess. The northerners stereotyped Italians as practitioners of witchcraft and viewed them as treacherous and self-serving, the Visconti having an especially dubious reputation as kinslaying usurpers and red-handed tyrants; such chauvinistic views dovetailed with latent misogyny, for Valentina was an intelligent and vivacious woman accustomed to her father’s educated and effervescent court, and not inclined to meekly remain in the background. In Bohemia and Germany, the Empress became an object of scorn alongside her husband, despised for her allegedly lavish and promiscuous lifestyle.

    In 1394 Jobst, as Duke of Moravia, had imprisoned Wenceslaus and assumed a regency with the backing of the League of Lords. In 1396 Sigismund forced a truce releasing the hapless Emperor, at the price of being named heir to Bohemia. Charles’ birth threatened Sigismund’s accession, and made Wenceslaus himself a liability for the Bohemians and Germans both- they feared, above all, that he might attempt to force his son’s accession to both the German and Bohemian thrones, eroding the elective principle of both monarchies. Rumors circulated that Gian Galeazzo had offered an Imperial coronation to his daughter’s husband in return for the Iron Crown of Lombardy; the Electors feared that the alliance between the two men might be turned against German “liberty” and make Wenceslaus a tyrant-king.

    It is not known how precisely Wenceslaus died. On October 1, 1399, eight months after Ruprecht’s elevation precipitated a civil war in Germany, Sigismund entered Bohemia with a Hungarian army. Ostensibly coming to aid his brother, he seized and imprisoned him instead, forcing his brother to renounce all his rights and unilaterally abdicate all his lands and titles. Sigismund then proclaimed his nephew Charles king of Bohemia and asserted power as regent alongside Henry of Rosenberg, an alliance sealed by the betrothal of the young Charles to Henry’s daughter Katarina; this outmaneuvered Jobst of Moravia, who was locked out of the government by Sigismund. Within six weeks Wenceslaus was dead, probably either strangled or starved on his brother’s orders so to avert his possible escape.

    Bohemia was not wholly unified behind Wenceslaus’ deposition. Religious radicals agitated for a national church, and these and dissidents among the minor nobility allied tactically with Jobtst, who betrayed his compatriots in the League of Lords and forged a will naming himself as regent for the young Charles. In response Sigismund raised an army and invaded Bohemia, a civil and dynastic feud that rapidly took on religious overtones; Sigismund depicted his actions as a Crusade, equating the Hussites to the Turks, and the Hussites responded in kind.

    The Visconti watched these events with growing misgivings, but little ability to intervene. Milan’s wars had levied an enormous debt- by the turn of the century, it is estimated that Milan’s formal debts stood at least four million florins, easily exceeding the Duke’s lifetime revenues from his family patrimony.[1] Milan itself was not obliged to shoulder the entire burden- a series of confiscations and indemnities successfully extracted four hundred thousand florins from Florence, and another two hundred thousand had been secured from the Duke’s Tuscan allies to finance the campaign. Greater still was the benefices of the Papacy: Pope Boniface was the Duke’s greatest creditor and supporter; he had opened the Church’s purse to the Duke, subsidizing the Milanese “holy wars” against Avignon and the Turks through a series of indulgences, tithes on Church property, and the sale of various Papal treasures. These measures, together with harsh taxation in Spoleto, provided nearly one million florins for the Visconti. Greater riches were yet to be uncovered. On March 2, 1401, one of Azzone’s agents- a Greek craftsman brought home from Athens- discovered a rich Alum deposit in Latium.[2] Invaluable for the production of dyes, Alum was heretofore almost exclusively produced in Ionia, and the discovery was taken as a minor miracle; more importantly, it was exceedingly lucrative, and provoked a minor crisis between the Pope and Azzone Visconti over its control. Pope Boniface was by now well ensconced in Rome, and- notwithstanding their promises to the contrary- the Visconti were reluctant to depose him. Milan’s position was not that of the French nobility; Gian Galeazzo could not move against the Pope without the firm backing of his putative sovereign, the Holy Roman Emperor, or the approval of a general Church Council. Neither were in the cards in 1401, owing in part to Germany’s continued upheaval. Thus the Duke, preoccupied with his looming mortality and the question of succession, abandoned his prior agreements and embraced an alliance with the Roman Papacy. His heir, Gian Galeazzo II, died of an unspecified illness on March 24, 1401. The Prince of Lombardy was followed by his daughter Maria on April 1, and his eldest son on April 14. Gian Galeazzo’s heir, under primogeniture, was now his four-year-old grandson Matteo Visconti. The Duke had intended to fully transform his dynastic possessions into a more centralized state in the model of the French- he had already made clear his intention that Azzone and Carlo Maria rule appanages subsidiary the main line in Pavia. Even if he were so inclined, he could not readily set aside his grandson, for the boy’s mother Sophia of Bavaria was daughter of the powerful William III of Munich, ruler of much of Bavaria and the rich County of Tirol. The deposition of his son-in-law and succession crisis in Bohemia must have weighed heavily on his mind.

    Valentina Visconti herself returned to Pavia acting autonomously on behalf of her son, a desperate ploy to entice Milan into the crisis. Gian Galeazzo received his daughter warmly but did not choose to declare for one party- what he wanted above all was Imperial recognition. Yet none of the claimants were able to offer such a partnership. Ruprecht of the Palatinate had deposed Wenceslaus for his overtly pro-Lombard leanings; he was neither willing nor able to cast his lot in with the Milanese. Nor was Sigismund prepared to acknowledge Visconti pretensions, owing to continual tensions over Venetian interests in Dalmatia and Istria; Gian Galeazzo was not prepared to betray the Venetians on the vague assurance of future imperial support from a foreign king who did not even hold pretensions to the Imperial throne; moreover, influenced by Valentina, he declared his recognition of his grandson Charles, frustrating Sigismund’s own ambitions in Bohemia. Only Jobst was prepared to contemplate bestowing the Iron Crown on the Duke of Milan, but he harbored his own ambitions in Italy, having been Imperial Vicar before Wenceslaus had stripped him of the title and bestowed it upon Valentina’s father after their marriage. Jobst’s own imperial ambitions were not yet apparent, and in any case like Sigismund he was not prepared to risk his standing with the German Electors by allying himself openly to the Visconti.

    Faced with these unpalatable choices, Gian Galeazzo fell back on his own resources. He consulted with the famed lawyers of the University of Bologna, carefully drafting an argument for his rights and prerogatives as Imperial Vicar of Italy. He consulted also with Pope Boniface, who encouraged him to adopt the intransigent stance that no Emperor was legitimate without a Papal coronation. The Popes had long asserted the right to act as Imperial Vicar in Italy- especially Tuscany- in the absence of a sitting Emperor, and Boniface was now prepared to grant that authority to the Duke of Milan in return for pledging his loyalty to Rome; Boniface needed a protector, for he knew that none of the feuding Imperial princes were inclined to view him as legitimate and lacking any clear alternatives he chose the Visconti as his instruments. Gian Galeazzo’s volte face turn from Ghibelline to Guelph- from Emperor to Pope- met with unanticipated resistance from his second son Azzone Visconti. Azzone, as Duke of Spoleto and consort to Queen Joanna of Naples, was a Papal vassal twice over, and far less sanguine than his father about the long-term viability of a Papal-Milanese alliance. Yet Gian Galeazzo got his way, as he usually did. The Visconti state needed the backing of one of the two traditional sources of legitimacy; if the Emperors would not support him, then he had no choice but to turn to the Papacy. Azzone’s sons- and he had five living sons with Joanna- might face rebellions from rival claimants or disgruntled vassals, but as the descendants of a Capetian Anjou their royal pedigree would never be questioned. The northern Visconti in contrast had no dynastic claim to the Italian throne- at best, they were imperial vassals with delusions of grandeur, at worst urban despots ruling Italy from atop a throne of spears, whispers, and gold. This sudden divergence between north and south would not disappear, but it was ameliorated, if only temporarily, by a careful compromise between father and son. Azzone was proclaimed Sword of Christendom and freed of all tribute and obligation to the Papacy for the duration of his lifetime. He was granted control over the city of Ancona and the Umbrian Marche, a Papal stipend, and the island of Corsica, formerly a Genoese colony. His Provencal holdings were also expanded to include the County of Nizza and the former Angevin possessions of Cuneo in Piedmont.

    On April 22, 1401, a contingent of Lombard knights broke into Monza Cathedral, forty miles from Milan. The Iron Crown of Lombardy was seized and taken back to Pavia, where Gian Galeazzo had taken the extraordinary step of convoking a general assembly- a Senate- for Lombardy, in the model of the French Estates General. Up until this point, while the Duke occasionally did homage to the ghost of communal self-government, he strenuously centralized power around an autocratic Ducal administration and brooked little tolerance for any insubordination or excessive regional particularism. Now, however, circumstances forced his hand, if only to reassure himself and legitimize his literal theft of the Iron Crown of Italy. This was intended to be an advisory council, rather than a legislative body, but the cities did take advantage of the opportunity to demand their consent for any future taxation, a concession which Gian Galeazzo somewhat reticently granted; for what he desired now was a royal crown, and a source of legitimacy to gird his grandson’s throne. We are told that the Lombards “pleaded” with the Duke to take up the Iron Crown; more likely, the Duke had arranged the affair in advance, meeting with the principal cities and aristocrats.

    On July 25, 1401, the estates of Lombardy elected Gian Galeazzo Visconti King of Italy, and in the presence of ambassadors from France, England, and every state of Italy he took the Iron Crown from its pedestal and placed it atop his head and in turn crowning his wife, after which the couple were consecrated by the Archbishop of Milan. Gian Galeazzo in turn immediately bestowed several of his sons and allies with various titles, creating legal bonds of vassalage to consecrate his informal network of alliances. Carlo Maria was invested as Duke of Tuscany and granted the privileges of a royal apanage in the French style; Amadeus of Savoy, Gonzaga of Mantua, and Este of Ferrara all received investiture as dukes, and the lords of Saluzzo and Montferrat knelt and did homage to the King of Lombardy in person. It is noteworthy which territories were excluded from the kingdom- Corsica, of course, was alongside the Sardinian Judiciate of Arborea part of Azzone Visconti’s Kingdom of Sardinia and Corsica, a Papal title bestowed upon him to grant him coequal rank with his wife. The Venetians had already purchased the cession of any Lombard claims to their terrafirma; legally, the cession was justified by the separation of the old March of Verona from the Lombard kingdom by the Ottonian Emperors; Venice held her mainland territories as nominally Imperial fiefs, free of any homage to Pavia. Pope Boniface had conceded control over Bologna and Ravenna- for Venice and Milan were united in disparaging Papal control over the Romagna and Boniface was forced to concede the point- but he did insist upon his own rights in Spoleto and the Umbria as well as the southern Romagnan lords such as Forli, Rimini, and Urbino; Pope Boniface crowned Azzone Visconti in a separate ceremony two months prior, asserting Papal control over the Kingdoms of Sardinia, Corsica, and Sicily. Azzone and his brother secured representation on any potential Regency council for Matteo Visconti; Gian Galeazzo further proclaimed his wife, the Queen Isabella, as his representative, trusting that the princes would accept their own mother’s authority in any disputes between them.

    For the first time in four centuries Italy had a native king, and the Visconti dynasty controlled nearly all of Italy through their lands and vassals. Tellingly, Gian Galeazzo secured his throne through acclamation- neither the Pope nor the Emperor crowned him, and in fact it was not clear if he intended his new Kingdom to secede from the Empire or acknowledge Imperial sovereignty- the Duke withheld any explicit submission to Imperial suzerainty from all documents and ceremonies, likely intending to offer homage as a possible concession to the feuding Imperial claimants. It was equally unclear whether the Duke explicitly based his claim on election; the entire ceremony maintained the fiction that he was acting unilaterally as Imperial Vicar, and merely seeking acknowledgment of his claim from his subjects in Italy, but tacitly it was understood that the King of Lombardy ruled at the sufferance of the Lombards. Throughout his career the Great Duke depended greatly on the urban oligarchs; these men, rather than any prince or pope, agreed to elevate him, and to acknowledge his grandson as heir under a primogeniture system. It suited the purposes of these men to allow the Visconti to claim the Iron Crown, because that allowed the Visconti in turn to formulate a legal basis for their authority; the lords of Ferrara and Mantua, longstanding Visconti allies, used the King’s elevation to elevate themselves to Dukes, and protect themselves, their lands, and their dynasties through the bonds of vassalage. Likewise, the lesser lords of the Piedmont- Saluzzo and Montferrat- viewed Visconti sovereignty as less odious than that of the Savoy, and more reliable as a protector than a long absent and inchoate Empire. Joanna, having married herself to Gian Galeazzo’s son, saw no reason to oppose Gian Galeazzo’s elevation to royalty, especially since it restored her family lands in Piedmont. Pope Boniface of course had encouraged the enterprise to sever the link between Milan and Germany and prevent his own deposition or the further erosion of his Papal State. Venice, likewise, wished merely to reinforce her legal claim to the Friuli, and secure her own interests in the Adriatic- for Venice had additionally purchased, from Joanna, the rights to the Duchy of Dalmatia, and the Doge won recognition from Milan to his claims over Istria as well. Venetian independence was now intertwined with a clear delineation of her territory from that of Milan, Naples, and the Pope, but also a coalition binding all four of them against the Hungarians and the Empire.

    The strength of this alliance would be tested shortly. On February 14, 1404, Gian Galeazzo Visconti fell ill. Lingering for weeks, the King of Lombardy died on March 22, 1404. He was fifty-two years old.
     
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    Royal Ambitions
  • Royal Ambitions​

    Gian Galeazzo’s untimely demise did not unravel his state. His wife Isabella had convoked a new Senate even before her husband was buried, in which her son acclaimed king and gave his oath to uphold the Lombards’ rights and privileges- the Senate was again confirmed as exercising control over taxes outside of the king’s domains. Most of the power brokers in Lombardy clearly preferred to work within the Visconti state rather than outside of it- the very same calculus that had allowed Gian Galeazzo to unify much of Padania. The greatest danger, of course, came from the boy king’s uncles, who in 1404 were by and large quiescent, preoccupied with managing their own affairs and estates. Azzone Visconti enmeshed himself in Papal matters and remained in Spoleto far to the south, where he could cultivate ties within the Eternal City; his younger brother Carlo Maria, third and youngest son of Gian Galeazzo I, was a more active presence in Lombardy, but also hamstrung by the government of his extensive Duchy of Tuscany and his own poor health. This necessitated long absences from Pavia, preventing him from becoming a predominant personal force in the capital. Power in the court correspondingly coalesced behind two powerful widows- the Dowager Queen Regent Isabella of France, and the Queen Mother Sophia of Bavaria, widow of Gian Galeazzo II and mother to the young King Matteo; Isabella generally favored her son Carlo Maria’s partisans and a continuation of her late husband’s conservative domestic policies, along with a staunch Francophilia and rapprochement with the German Empire. Sophia, in contrast, resented her lack of formal power in the court, and increasingly aligned herself with the distant Azzone Visconti, who favored a muscular foreign policy vis a vis Germany. Sophia wanted her son to place his kingdom behind her own brother, the young and ambitious Ernest III of Bavaria-Munich, the dominant figure in southern Germany. Since his marriage in 1398 to Anna of Saxony, sister of the Ascanian Elector Rudolf III, he had increasingly entertained imperial ambitions vis a vis the crown borne by his illustrious great-grandfather Charles. Lombard assistance, or even a formal promise of homage from his nephew the King of Italy, would do much to advance those ambitions.

    Azzone Visconti was broadly preoccupied with Papal affairs and remained in the south. Boniface died on February 1, 1403, clearing the way for Visconti ascendancy within the city. Azzone belatedly recalled his mother’s promise to Philip of Burgundy and his soldiers broke apart the Papal conclave- winning the support of men such as Cardinal Ludovico Fieschi, who desired an immediate end to the Schism and opposed a new Papal election without the general support of the Church. Azzone subsequently orchestrated his acclamation as Prince of Rome- he became the head of a new secular Roman state, independent of Papal authority, and pledged to uphold the city’s “ancient and Republican liberties” in conjunction with the leading aristocratic families.

    The two Queens’ authority increased with the murder of Carlo Maria Visconti in late 1405. Inheriting much of his father’s ambitions but little of his talents, Carlo Maria had ruthlessly centralized power around his own person. In particular, he had made himself hated in both Pisa and Florence by the imposition of a French style centralized monarchy. From his perspective, Tuscany- as a royal apanage- was not subject to the rule of the Lombard Senate, and he was free to rule as a despot; Carlo postured as the inheritor of autocratic Papal authority over Tuscany, subject to no constraints on his absolute power, and he wielded this power like a tyrant, frequently ordering the brutal executions of suspected conspirators within Florence and other great cities. This, at least, is what the Tuscans said of him after his death, but Carlo Maria had undeniably made many enemies. His most dangerous was a man his father had entrusted with the government of Pisa- the powerful Gherardo Appiani, Lord of Piombino, an ambitious man whose father had sold Pisa to Gian Galeazzo Visconti several years prior. Appiani resented the Duke’s failure to include him within the government and decided to remove his liege lord and seize power for himself; we are told that Appiani was suspected of conspiring with his wife’s relations, the powerful Colonna family of Rome. On June 22, 1405, Carlo Maria Visconti was accosted by armed men outside of the Cathedral of Siena and stabbed twenty four times, “once more,” Leonardo Nogarola wrote in the following century, perhaps somewhat facetiously, “than the great Caesar, and a deed committed by men of lesser station; for such was the degeneracy of morals among men after Rome’s fall.”[1] Carlo Maria left behind him the widowed Aragonese princess Margaret of Urgell, three sons, and four daughters- two of them bastards. His eldest son, the ten-year-old Galeazzo, became Duke of Tuscany, inheriting government of Siena and Florence and the lion’s share of his father’s vast estates; the middle boy received the lordship of Pisa, while his youngest son Guido received the Emilian cities of Bologna and Forli, purchased by Carlo Maria from Gian Galeazzo’s destitute bastard four years prior.

    Further north, affairs in Pavia came to a head with the death of the venerable Dowager Queen Isabella on July 5, 1405. Sophia rapidly gained ascendance after her predecessor’s passing, displacing most of the existing officers and appointing her own favorites instead. Within Tuscany, Gherardo’s rebellion failed to make headway outside of Pisa, which opened its gates to Gherardo and named him prince. The widowed Duchess Margaret of Urgell appealed immediately to both Sophia and Azzone, the latter of whom literally stole a march on the Lombard regent. A Roman army marched north and crushed the Pisan Revolt after defeating and killing Appiani on the banks of the Arno. Thereafter, Azzone assumed full government for his nephews in Tuscany, sidelining Margaret with his own loyalists; although he was unable to do the same in Pavia for fear of Sophia’s powerful relatives, he did force the Queen Regent into a power-sharing arrangement like that established by his father, appointing a Franco-Neapolitan retainer named Bernard of Gaeta as his representative in Lombardy and receiving a free hand in the government of Tuscany. Thus, Azzone joined the ranks of powerful princely regents- remarkably, Italy, Spain, England, Germany, and France all suffered underage or incapable monarchs in this period, and all saw collateral relations of the King capture the central government; tellingly, in most of these countries the lines of the regents would either seize power or be destroyed in the following decades. Even if his nephews never came to harm, they would be completely powerless puppets while Azzone lived: Italy, after 1406, had neither an Emperor nor Pope, King nor Duke; she had only her Prince, who ruled from the Swiss Alps to the Island of Malta with steel will and silver tongue.

    A signal of Azzone’s newfound power and influence was the marriage of his bastard daughter Giovanna to Henry of Monmouth, son of the Lord Regent Henry of Lancaster.[2] Normally a Duke’s heir- of royal lineage no less- would scarcely have considered such a match, but Henry’s cash-strapped regime badly needed the gold, and the prospect of an alliance with the powerful lord of Italy was too enticing to overlook. Giovanna’s dowry included the lordship of Avignon and eight hundred and fifty thousand florins to be paid in three installments. Scarcely two decades prior, Azzone’s sister Valentina had come to her husband Wenceslaus with a dowry of 400,000 florins, the county of Vertus in Champagne and the city of Asti in Piedmont; while Giovanna’s dowry had been inflated to compensate for her illegitimacy, the match nevertheless clearly demonstrated the rapid rise of the family fortunes. Although not formally allying with England or even the House of Lancaster- ambassadors did proclaim a personal friendship between Azzone and Henry and “goodwill” between the nations- the two parties did discuss a potential pledge “to defend our lands and estates from usurpers.” This was taken in England to refer to a defense pact against Louis of Orleans, but Azzone- while certainly far more sympathetic to the Burgundians than the Orleans- also hoped to align England against Germany; indeed, his missives suggested a reinvigorated Anglo-French truce and even a potent Anglo-Burgundian-Lombard alliance against the Duke of Guelders and the putative Emperor Rupert of the Palatinate, which would also serve to enmesh France within the Rhineland and thereby pressure Germany into accepting Visconti demands. Indeed, Azzone reiterated his family’s ties to both Bavaria and France by securing a betrothal between his nephew Matteo of Lombardy and the Princess Catherine of Valois, daughter of Charles the Mad and Isabella of Bavaria; clearly, he presumed (incorrectly) that the Anglo-French truce established at Leulinghem was still binding, and the two powers could be readily aligned with Italy and against Germany. Such designs depended greatly on the influence of Philip of Burgundy, the principal architect and beneficiary of the peace with England, and a key player in both French and German-Imperial politics owing to his extensive estates in the Low Countries. Widely respected as one of Europe’s leading statesmen, the venerable Philip of Burgundy had lived enough to see much of his ambitions in France destroyed by his king’s madness and his cousin’s ambitions, passing away in 1404; with him passed the betrothal and the immediate opportunity for a lasting Italo-French alliance. The Prince of Italy had a poor understanding of French internal politics, for Louis of Orleans was rapidly ascending to control the court and replacing the aging Philip as the dominant figure in France; Louis, after seizing total control of France after Philip’s death, reacted to the English betrothal by convincing his brother Charles to break off the match between Catherine of France and Matteo Visconti, even deigning to besiege Avignon in a faltering and failed attempt at reinstating the Avignon Papacy.

    Despite being one of the most eligible bachelors in Europe, Louis of Orleans had not taken a wife until his late twenties. In part this was due to his own misfortune, admittedly somewhat self-inflicted- he had been engaged to a Savoy as the preliminaries for his invasion of Italy, but the marriage had not been consummated before her death. Louis returned from a lengthy captivity in Italy chastened and humiliated, but with his energies undimmed. Although resenting the deposition of Avignon pope Benedict, he rapidly acclimated to the tectonic shift in French politics underlying the Burgundian coup de grace by diverting his ambitions in new directions: defeated in the south, his ambitions shifted north towards the Rhineland. Duke William I of Guelders and Julich had enticed Europe by his reckless defiance of the French. King Charles himself led a royal army into Germany in 1388; though unable to bring Guelders to battle and stymied by the poor logistics of the Ardennes, William had been forced to give personal submission to Charles, which in practice amounted to little more than face-saving excuse for the French to depart with dignity. For this resistance and his personal valor, his name was by the turn of the century a byword for chivalry amongst the French and Germans alike. His daughter moreover Margaret was an attractive bride for Louis, endowed with a rich dowry in a strategically vital portion of western Germany.[3] Ostensibly the match- by which Duke William agreed to reiterate his homage to Charles- was aimed against the English, who were themselves negotiating a possible match between Margaret and Henry of Monmouth, the Lord Regent’s eldest son and heir to the Duchy of Lancaster. In reality, the Duke Philip of Burgundy interpreted himself as the target, and he very likely was; William of Guelders was the heart of the anti-Burgundian axis in the Low Countries, as his wife was the daughter of Count of Holland, and it was clear that Louis intended to follow the Burgundian example and carve out a principality for himself in the Rhenish frontier. He had secured the purchase of Luxemburg from its destitute countess, and allied himself with the Metz dynasty of Lorraine, whose lands sat between the Burgundian territories in Belgium and Burgundy proper.

    Louis’ machinations unfolded in the context of renewed hostilities with England. Isabella of France had arrived in England, along with her dowry, in 1398, greeted by Richard’s young son- her betrothed- Edward Prince of Wales. The Lancastrian coup the following year immediately and irreparably strained relations- the French, poorly understanding England’s radically different political context, misinterpreted the coup as driven by Richard’s reproachment with Paris and demonstrating the treacherous and warlike nature of the English. The Lord Regent Henry of Lancaster in truth desperately needed peace with France- his shaky administration was too financially strained to contemplate a renewal of hostilities on the mainland. Henry’s goals were principally to assert his own power in Britain; he decided, in 1400, to lead an army personally against the Scots, whose kingdom was traditionally viewed as de jure subject to England.

    A longstanding ally of France, the complex internal politics of Britain’s northern kingdom were a major source of instability in both the British Isle and in Anglo-French relations. In January 1399, the aging incompetent King Robert III was dispossessed by his family with the support of prominent noblemen. A general counsel of Scotland abrogated Robert’s kingly authority and passed power to his eldest son, the twenty-one-year-old David Stewart the Duke of Rothesay, as Lieutenant; in practice power was shared between the prince and a council of “wise men” constituted from leading figures in the realm. Two factions emerged within the nobles- one around King Robert’s brother, also named Robert, the Duke of Albany; the other faction was led by the Black Douglases, a dynasty founded by the venerable Archibald ‘the Grim’, Earl of Douglas. A bastard by birth, in his youth he had pressed his claim to the extensive Douglas estates in southern Scotland, fending off the claims of the legitimate line of Red Douglases. In 1400 he had married his daughter to the Duke of Rothesay, binding his line to the royal house of Stewart. At the time of the marriage Rothesay had been betrothed to- and indeed, had been cohabitating with- the daughter of George Dunbar the Earl of March, one of the Douglases’ only rivals in Southern Scotland. The Earl immediately fled to England and offered his services to Henry IV, demanding retribution for the insult done to his daughter. In the weeks following the Earl’s departure, the Douglases seized his estates and became the undisputed power in Southern Scotland. The Douglas clan traditionally favored an aggressive policy towards England, as they were the patrons of the border lords, who depended economically and politically on the prospect of booty seized from the endemic border warfare. These men had strongly resisted French pressure to acknowledge the truce with England, preventing Robert III from accepting the peace of Paris in 1396 and instead formulating a tenuous truce which had to be renewed periodically.

    Henry’s coup in 1399 posed too good of an opportunity to renew hostilities. The Scots, urged on by Douglas, launched an extensive raid against Northern England in 1400, ostensibly as punishment for the Earl of Dunbar’s defection. Henry decided to respond personally, announcing his intention to lead an army into Scotland before Parliament. Simultaneously his ambassadors opened talks with the Scots, which proved fruitless due to extravagant English demands. Henry was unwilling to accept Edward II’s 1328 Treaty of Northampton, by which he would have formally acknowledged Scottish independence; although England had tacitly acknowledged Scottish sovereignty by accepting their right to engage in foreign diplomacy, formal recognition of Scottish independence would have meant abandoning Edward III’s later conquests, including the surrender of the three castles of Berwick, Roxburgh, and Jedburgh, still in possession of the English, as well as surrendering traditional English claims to the rich Scottish lowlands, territory formerly part of the Kingdom of Northumbria and claimed by Edward III in 1334. Henry IV, as regent, depended greatly on his image as a defender of English rights and interests, and he could not afford to be seen capitulating to Scotland.

    On August 6, Henry issued letters at Carlisle demanding that Robert III do homage to his nephew King Edward IV of England. He and his army of 13,000 subsequently invaded Scotland, one of the largest armies fielded in the British Isles in more than a century of constant warfare. But the army’s size was its weakness: Henry had no siege engines, and although occupying Edinburgh city without a struggle he found the citadel firmly garrisoned and was forced to withdraw without any territorial gains, securing only a vague promise of homage. Within six weeks of Henry’s withdrawal the Earl of Douglas was pillaging northern England again. France watched impotently from across the channel, unable to break through the English blockade and poorly informed of British affairs.

    Henry faced a far more dangerous threat from Wales. On September 16, 1400 Owen Glendower was proclaimed Prince of Wales in his manorial estate, surrounded by friends and kinsmen. Within days he was attacking English settlements throughout the region, prompting further rebellions led by Glendower’s kinsmen and allies Rhys and William ap Tudor, brothers who claimed descent from the last native Princes of Wales. On September 24 Glendower was routed near Welshpool, melting into the mountains and forests. The rebellion was only just beginning.

    Wales was in this era a colonial society. Poor, sparsely populated, rugged, and dispersed, it suffered from the endemic administrative difficulties of all mountainous regions- banditry, lack of arable agricultural land, large and difficult terrain separating major communities. These problems were exacerbated by the domineering English occupation and the general circumstances of the time. The piecemeal conquest of the territory had left behind a complex and inefficient feudal administration, many provinces bestowed as political favors to absentee English overlords with little regard for government efficiency; these same lords in turn tended to view their Welsh estates solely as an extractive source of revenue. Despite being one of the poorest provinces in England, Wales suffered some of the highest tax rates, notwithstanding plummeting population and severe agricultural depression. Welsh and English were subject to different laws, and Welshmen were not represented in Parliament for another century. Worse, England founded numerous plantations of English immigrants, fortified communities given special privileges and choice lands and offices.

    Traditionally, local risings had been contained through the fragmented nature of the principality but also a degree of judicial patronage for prominent Welsh families. Welsh longbowmen provided a key military asset in English wars on the continent, serving another valuable release for the tensions created by a restive and belligerent agrarian population. England’s defeats in France and the truce had reduced the traditional opportunities for plunder and pay overseas, even as declining agricultural production further squeezed the principality. The overreaction to Glendower’s abortive rising worsened the situation, as new restrictions were placed barring Welshmen from participation in government offices, residency in Welsh towns, possessing castles or military arms. These measures enflamed tensions and ensured that Glendower’s revolt gathered momentum even after his early defeat. These measures were worsened by Henry’s decision to personally take up government of the principality- perhaps as a prelude to naming himself Prince of Wales- for the Lord Regent was an obdurate and inflexible politician lacking any nuanced understanding of the situation on the ground. Wales festered in rebellion for much of the next decade. Decentralized and lacking siege artillery or ships, the Welsh could do little to the fortified towns and strongholds of the English; at the same time, the diffuse rebel bands easily avoided the lumbering English armies, striking at caravans and vulnerable homesteads in the countryside.

    The situation became critical in 1401 owing to further developments in Scotland. In Autumn 1401 Rothesay was overthrown, imprisoned, and murdered in a coup d’etat orchestrated by the Duke of Albany and the Earl of Douglas. The two men, resenting the prince’s assertive governance, colluded to bully the feckless King Robert into authorizing the imprisonment of his own son. Rothesay was seized in October 1401, and eventually starved to death on Albany’s orders on about March 26, 1402. The coup immediately led to a more aggressive attitude towards England, probably at the insistence of Earl of Douglas. Rothesay was absent at a peace conference held by the border on October 17, 1401, which was instead dominated by the Earl and his followers. The Scots flatly rejected English demands for sovereignty and the conference reconvened at the church of Carham, where negotiations broke down completely in the face of Douglas’s belligerent attitude and the presence of his army across the river in Scotland. Douglas refused to extend the truce until Christmas, and upon its expiration invaded England three weeks later, taking up the cause of Thomas Ward, an impersonator of the late Richard II of England, further dispatching envoys to France insisting on a renewal of the alliance.

    In 1402, Louis attempted for the first time to orchestrate an invasion of England. He pressured his brother into appointing him President of the Conseil-General des Aides and thereafter forcing through a new taille of 1,200,000 to 1,300,000 francs, a 60% increase in royal taxation. Yet Louis had overreached himself, failing to account for the Duke of Burgundy or the rising unpopularity of harsh wartime taxation. In May 1403 Philip pressured Louis, via a public letter, into withdrawing the taille, and in June, after a personal entry into the capital and difficult negotiations with the King, which removed Louis from power but did little to address the underlying tensions.

    In England the Welsh rising continued to sap the strength of the Kingdom. Despite increasing the garrisons, Henry’s government found it impossible to root out Glendower and his followers, who pillaged the boroughs and hinterlands of towns such as Cardiff and Newport. In mid-September Henry himself was with his army in Wales, trudging through torrential rain in a vain hunt for the Welsh rebels, when he received word of ten thousand Scots crossing the border.

    English defense was led by the Earl of Northumberland, accompanied by his son, the famous Hotspur, and the Earl of Dunbar. The English had at most four thousand men, including 3,000 archers and perhaps less than this, and adopted the strategy Hotspur had attempted in 1388. The Scots were left to advance unmolested, and then attacked on their withdrawal. In 1388 the English had been defeated at Otterburn attempting this strategy, but this time they would prove more successful. On September 14, 1402, Northumberland’s army arrayed itself behind a small river, while Douglas dismounted his forces and arrayed them on the bank of a hill. At the Earl of Dunbar’s insistence, the English sent their archers forward first, inflicting substantial casualties on the Scots and putting them to rout. The battle of Humbleton Hill was one of the few to be won entirely by archery, and crippeled Scotland for a generation. The Earl of Douglas was captured along with many of his followers, who would be destined to remain prisoners of the English for many years to come.

    Henry moved quickly to exploit the victory, barring the ransoming of politically important prisoners and showering Percy and Dunbar with gifts and praise. The leading prisoners, including Earl of Douglas, were taken back to London and paraded in front of the crowds, alongside a military parade honoring the two generals. In the midst of the festivities, Henry announced that he intended to take the field in person and lead a new campaign into Scotland. Henry had ample reason to justify his war diplomatically- the Scots had deliberately abrogated the truce to expire and refused to acknowledge “just” English claims of sovereignty. Politically, an invasion would give outlet to the ambitions of the powerful Percies, who had grown disgruntled by the Lord Regent’s favoritism towards their regional rivals, the Nevilles.[4]

    Ultimately, Henry’s second Scottish campaign was delayed for lack of funds for more than three years. England faced a serial escalation of the war at sea. By 1405, after the initial crisis in Wales had passed and the war in the Channel was winding down, Henry’s finances were finally secure enough to marshal his army; he was undoubtedly aided by the arrival in late 1405 of Henry of Monmouth’s bride Giovanna Visconti, with her dowry and wedding gifts, undoubtedly stiffened his resolve. The Bastard of Naples brought with her eighteen Genoese Carracks, immense war ships unlike anything the English possessed, and four heavy bombards, dubbed the Four Apostles, cast from the Milanese armories. The manufacture and use of cannon was a highly technical industry, requiring skilled metallurgy and capable engineering. Burgundy had the best cannonsmiths in Europe, but the forges of Rhenish Germany and Lombardy were also well regarded; England had nothing of the sort. Henry had learned from the logistical difficulties of his prior invasion, and determined to split his armies, commanding half of the forces himself in a march on Edinburgh and allowing Hotspur to command another army in an invasion of Galloway.

    Dunbar Castle had resisted Henry in his prior invasion, but the addition of siege guns proved an insurmountable advantage. Within two weeks of the attack, the castle was forced to surrender. Earl of Dunbar was invested with the castle and charged with holding it for his sovereign Edward IV, King of England and Scotland. Henry found as much success in his attack on Edinburgh. The city was taken unopposed, and the garrison again besieged. As at Dunbar, the use of cannon against medieval castles proved decisive; Edinburgh Castle too was forced to submit after four and half weeks of bombardment. Dumfries was the site of Robert the Bruce’s first triumph; its conquest, along with the loss of the royal capital, shocked the Scots. Although Henry was forced by lack of fund and continued unrest in Wales to withdraw from Scotland after Edinburg’s fall, indeed, their missives to France grew increasingly desperate, insisting that unless their old alliance was honored that the kingdom would surely be lost.

    England and France had until this point avoided overt hostilities, as neither party wished to be seen breaking the truce. England’s invasion of Scotland, for all of Henry’s prevarications, was predictably taken in Paris as a violation of the terms of Leulinghem, justifying further hostilities in the eyes of Louis of Orleans, by now the principal advocate for renewed war with England. The French responded initially with a general escalation of piracy, benefiting from political developments in Brittany, one of France’s major maritime provinces. The Duchess Regent Joan of Navarre married Henry of Lancaster in 1403. Her departure decisively shifted the province against the English, escalating a pirate war which proved costly for both Brittany and England.

    Louis stood to personally benefit from open confrontation- beyond justifying the harsh taxation necessary to finance his lifestyle, war with England would benefit him personally. Louis owned Angouleme and Perigord and was allied to the Count of Armagnac and Albret and had additionally received the Duchy of Guyenne from his brother Charles. He had further allied with the House of Foix and supported their claims in Aragon, financing the war in Spain with an annual stipend from the royal treasury; this by and large suited the Armagnac, since it forestalled Foix ambitions against the County of Comminges. Louis could thus boast of having unified much of the southern nobility in a personal alliance, and he was determined to utilize their extensive networks to further his own glory.

    The Duke of Orleans’ ambitions inflamed the intricate and explosive feudal kinship networks of the Languedoc, which had by now ensnared the Spanish in the broader Anglo-French conflict. James of Urgell, who had vainly married his daughter off to the Visconti Duke of Tuscany, was defeated and killed by the Navarrese in 1401; nevertheless, the Count of Foix faced a far more persistent enemy in the Castillan Trastamara. Ferdinand, brother to King Henry and his English wife Catherine of Lancastr, successfully invaded and claimed Valencia in 1399 and continued to harry the north well into the next century, finally securing a match with Foix’s daughter for his young son in 1402 as the price of preserving Foix control over the northern kingdoms. Having broken his family fortunes and his own health in pursuit of the Aragonese Crown, Foix himself died deeply in debt and lame from his injuries in 1403, leaving a three-year-old son Gaston to take up the cause. The Middle Ages were not especially kind towards underage monarchs; Gaston- and his claim- were quickly brushed aside by the Castillians, who on June 15, 1403 entered Barcelona in triumph. Ferdinand proclaimed his son’s betrothed as Queen of Aragon and himself as regent. Little is heard thereafter of the unfortunate Gaston of Foix, who perished of unknown causes shortly after his sister’s elevation.

    Gaston’s death ended the house of Foix in the main line and created a new flashpoint in French relations vis a vis both England and Spain. The late Count territory was claimed by his sister Isabella’s husband Archambaud of Grailly. Although traditionally Anglophile, like most families in the region the Graillys had one foot in both camps; Archambaud was especially nervous as to the growing detente between Castille and England. The Lord Regent Henry of Lancaster was not willing to back the Grailly claims to the Foix inheritance without a renunciation of their claims in Aragon, for Grailly’s long loyalty was not worth provoking Spain- his own sister, after all, was married to King Henry of Castille. Louis of Orleans was less circumspect- first offering to support Ferdinand’s claim to the Foix inheritance in return for an alliance against England, before finally backing Archambaud of Grailly and coercing him into defecting to the allegiance of France. Archambaud did homage to Charles in Paris on August 22, 1403, delivering up two of his sons as hostages. In truth Archambaud’s defection did little to advance France’s cause in Gascony; the bulk of his estates were seized by the English, although the fall of the Poitevin fortress of did incite serious panic in Gascony as to the duchy’s long-term viability. Henry eventually dispatched his seventeen-year-old son Henry of Monmouth to Bordeaux in August 1403 along with additional soldiers.

    Azzone Visconti studiously ignored events to the west, for his energies were wholly focused on resolving the Schism. Despite the renewed tensions with France, after the death of the exiled Benedict Louis agreed to host a joint conclave after receiving a personal plea from Azzone. Having met and befriended the prince during his captivity, Louis had a grudging personal respect for the Prince. Azzone played readily upon the man’s vanity, offering a marriage betrothal for his nephew Matteo and Louis’ infant daughter. His offer of alliance also tacitly carried the threat of an Italian invasion of southern France, for Louis was by now in desperate need of ships and overly burdened with enemies and could not afford to risk a possible Anglo-Italian alliance by snubbing Pavia so blatantly. Above all, the death of the deposed and exiled Benedict in 1404 further emphasized the futility of clinging to Avignon’s legacy. Between them, the Valois and the Visconti were able to assemble a general conclave encompassing most of the sitting cardinals in Europe, bypassing a General Council on the grounds that there were no sitting emperors or Popes able to convene it; this suited both the French and the Italians, for the Conclave of 1404 was predominately a Franco-Italian affair- of thirty-four cardinals, eleven were French and seventeen Italian; of the remainder, three were Spanish, one Scottish, one German, and one English. The Iron Conclave was unapologetically political- by tacit agreement, a Frenchman was selected, and sworn to rule from Rome rather than Avignon. The choice was the thirty-five-year-old Louis of Bar, brother of the Duke and nephew of King John II of France; he took up residence in Rome at the back of a Visconti army and over the corpses of at least a score of Roman Ghibellines, for the elevation of a Frenchman was not well received in the Eternal City.

    Azzone’s decision to unilaterally elevate a new Pope alongside the French immediately soured relations with Sigismund of Hungary. The Hungarian king, having defeated his brother Jobst and taken control of Bohemia, finally felt secure enough to negotiate with the lord of Italy on an even footing. Sigismund had some reason to believe that Azzone would be open to an alliance. The two men were both veterans of the Macedonian Crusade, and- notwithstanding the Confederal League- Sigismund believed that both could profit by a joint war of conquest against the Republic of Venice. Since 1404, Azzone personally ruled the city of Genoa, Venice’s longstanding maritime rival. the Venetians had exploited the fratricidal Luxemburg conflict to conquer Dalmatia, and Sigismund wanted it back- he had secretly approached Azzone with an offer of partitioning the Serene Republic, whereby Friuli and the Veneto would be conquered by Lombardy and Istria and Dalmatia partitioned out between Sigismund and the Duke of Austria; Venice’s overseas territories in Albania and the Aegean would be granted to the Genoese as Lombard vassals. Yet Sigismund had misjudged the Prince of Italy- ambitious as he was, Azzone recognized that allies were to be well treated or destroyed. Sigismund’s offer insulted his pride and triggered his paranoia, for the Prince felt that all of Venice belonged to him if it was to be conquered- his own wife, after all, had sold Venice her claim to Dalmatia. Nevertheless, Azzone was willing to discuss terms, and it was agreed that Azzone Visconti, along with his ally Duke Ernest of Bavaria, would meet with Sigismund in the Styrian border town of Ljubljana on April 5, 1406.

    Immediately the meeting was set poorly by the Italian refusal to acknowledge either Sigismund or Rupert as Emperor, derisively referring to both men as usurpers; the system established by the Golden Bull was denounced as merely bestowing the German crown, not the Italian crown- and certainly not the Imperial title- absent a Papal coronation. Azzone clearly wanted imperial recognition and was ultimately prepared to offer Italy’s nominal submission, but he wanted more than the Iron Crown, which he felt his family already possessed by right of conquest and acclamation. He demanded the abolition of the Electorates of Cologne and Trier, Arch-Chancellors respectively of Italy and Burgundy, to be replaced by royal electorates held by his nephew Matteo as King of Italy and himself as King of the Arelate. A third new electoral kingdom would be established for his brother-in-law the Duke of Bavaria, replacing the Palatinate, which was in rebellion; together with recognition of his nephew Charles as King of Bohemia, this would have given Duke of Bavaria five out of seven electorates supporting his candidacy for the Imperial Throne- an impossible demand for Sigismund, who viewed his claim as far superior.

    The question of Sigismund’s status (alongside that of Rupert) ultimately created an irreconcilable difference between the parties. As Sigismund himself exasperatedly noted, the Lombards could not simultaneously deny his legitimacy (and that of Rupert) while also seeking investiture by his hand. Yet the Italians had little immediate alternative. To acknowledge Sigismund (or Rupert) as Emperor would mean submitting to his overlordship and allowing foreign interference in Italy- this the Visconti were not prepared to accept under any circumstances. Only the Italian Crown, and the privileges associated with an Electorate, would forestall future attempts at German interference in Italian affairs. Azzone therefore saw his demands as a necessary precondition to “correct” the imbalance in the Imperial College, secure his dynastic autonomy, and advance his kinsmen’s interests within the Empire.

    The Bavarians likewise found it prudent to challenge the Golden Bull of 1356. Duke Ernest of Bavaria was eager and willing to stand for election, but even counting Bohemia he could rely upon only two of the seven electorates established by the Golden Bull supporting his candidacy, compared to his cousin’s four Rhenish electors, and the two electors were an underage nephew and an in-law; he therefore necessarily demanded, following the Italian line, to consider Rupert’s backers as in rebellion and disbar them from the next election. The remaining three electorates could then secure Ernest’s elevation, backed by a powerful Italo-Hungarian axis, and force a settlement within Germany. The prospect of such an accord failed to account for Sigismund’s own ambition and paranoia, enflamed by Azzone’s open pretensions as “Prince” of Rome, uncomfortably close to the traditional honor of King of the Romans bestowed to an Emperor-Elect before his coronation.

    Sigismund, like Azzone, ultimately needed a Pope or an Imperial Election to legitimize his authority- for he could not act against half the Imperial Electoral College without damaging his own claim to the Imperial Throne; yet, Sigismund was unwilling to accept a General Council, fearing- correctly- that Azzone’s dynastic ties with England and France and his control over Rome and Avignon would undercut Sigismund’s claim to supreme authority in Europe. The Golden Bull was the pinnacle of Luxemburg power and prestige- to alter the Electoral College in such a nakedly partisan fashion struck against centuries of conservative German political jurisprudence. Moreover, the German electors still considered themselves the joint co-stewards of the Empire, and haughtily assumed that Italy, as a crown in longstanding personal union with their own, was theirs to dispose of as they pleased; Azzone’s claims had no independent legal basis beyond his father’s election and the dubious argument based on the office of Imperial Vicar, neither of which were accepted by the German nobility, who maintained that they alone could elevate an Emperor to the throne of Charlemagne. Negotiations stalled and faltered on the intractable dilemma of homage- Azzone continually refused to accept Sigismund as Emperor, and Sigismund refused to accept any of the Visconti titles (he would derisively refer to Azzone exclusively as the Count of Nizza) without at least nominal submission. As negotiations stalled, tempers flared in the summer heat, and flashpoints pushed the two men towards confrontation.

    Both Azzone and Sigismund had brought extensive retinues with them to Ljubljana, as befitting their status as putative kings. These men were typically paid by their masters, but- in feudal tradition- owed cascading oaths of allegiance down a chain of feudal retainers. In practice a king could never exercise total control over his vassal’s vassals and had to account for familial grudges and other parochial ties and tensions. As it happened, several of Azzone’s Neapolitan retainers had fought against Sigismund’s predecessor and father-in-law Louis the Great of Hungary, whose rampant looting and harsh reprisals against Joanna I’s partisans had made him deeply unpopular in Italy. The Hungarians in contrast greatly esteemed Louis, and by extension cherished his daughter- Sigismund’s wife Mary- and her young son Louis, some among them even considering the boy the rightful ruler of Naples. [5] Idle soldiers are prone to both drink and gambling; one such incident, in which a certain Ioan of Transylvania and his compatriots, resulted in the death of one Neapolitan, and wounds to two more; both Ioan and three Hungarians were injured in the altercation. Azzone, on learning the news, was predictably furious, but decided to broach the matter with Sigismund as a gesture of good faith; under feudal law a noble was expected to be tried by his superior. Sigismund complied, but refused to enact the death penalty or any harsh punishment, instead levying a fine for drunkenness- on the grounds that the Italians had provoked his vassal. It has been alleged that Sigismund had owed a debt to Ioan from their time on crusade, or perhaps that he simply wished to snub the Italians; alternately, Sigismund may simply have refused to punish a retainer on the dubious and contradictory testimony of men who were arguably traitors and certainly foreigners.

    Azzone’s own retainers then, we are told, took matters into their own hands, for Ioan was emboldened by his escape from punishment and returned to gambling. Two days after Sigismund’s judgment the Lombards accused him of cheating at dice and stabbed him to death; for this Azzone offered no punishment, claiming- in mirror to Sigismund’s own ruling- that his killers had been provoked. By itself, the entire incident may have been forgotten, except that, in the following week, one of Sigismund’s own bodyguards succumbed to an unknown ailment. Italian chroniclers insist that the man died of disease, but Sigismund suspected poison, and- now convinced that the Lombards were scheming to kill him- decided to react viciously and dispose of the threat. He determined, on September 1, 1406, to seize the Italians by force. He determined to surround and seize the two men after a morning mass at the church.

    In the event Azzone himself escaped the plot only through blind chance. We are told that the Prince’s horse stumbled and lamed itself in the woods during an early morning hunt, delaying his return. While tending the animal his party was attacked by a group of Germans; one of his retainers gave the Prince his horse and the Lombards scattered into the wilderness. Azzone and three of his companions, including his bastard son Ferdinando, escaped and were able to reach Trieste after a harsh two days of riding; another of his sons, the eldest bastard Luca, was not so fortunate, and was captured by Sigismund’s forces, eventually dying of his injuries despite the ministrations of Sigismund’s own surgeon. Ernest of Bavaria was also among the captives taken that day. All told between one hundred and two hundred-fifty men perished, and at least eighty captives, predominately lords and nobles of note, were captured. Sigismund’s gamble had failed.

    Returning to Italy by ship, Azzone immediately determined on war, yet he was also determined to make his case. On October 22, 1406, he convened the Lombard Senate in his nephew’s name. Dutifully, the Prince’s lawyers recited the old claims: the Lombards had taken the crown as imperial vicars in the absence of a sitting Emperor after Wenceslaus’s murder and deposition; Sigismund was the unlawful King of Hungary, owing to the proper claims of the late Joanna and her brother Charles; the Germans had no claim to the Imperial title absent a Papal coronation, and sought to despoil and pillage Italy for their own gains- homage to the old fears of furor teutonicus, which was weaved into a long and somewhat disingenuous litany of continual “oppression” by successive Imperial dynasties, from the Ottonians to the Staufers. Sigismund and his German allies, the Prince warned, would deny the “liberty” of the Lombards, the aristocratic privilege of participating in government alongside their liege; worse, they would impose heresy, denigrating the Papacy in favor of regional archbishoprics and royal churches. The Prince was not merely preparing to claim the Hungarian throne- his ambitions now sat much higher. The issue of the Papal coronation was merely a formality from the German perspective, but it was a formality deeply rooted in tradition, and the old Guelph claims to Papal supremacy over the secular powers of the Emperors. Azzone Visconti was not merely determined to make war for Hungary- he wanted to destroy the pretensions of German power over Italy or supremacy in Europe.

    On Christmas Day 1406, six-hundred-six years to the day after Charlemagne’s coronation, Azzone Visconti greeted Pope twelve miles from the Aurelian Walls, twice the normal distance given to a King. He was greeted in the traditional manner of an emperor, having his horse led into the city by the Pope after kneeling and receiving benediction outside the walls. After a Mass in St Peter’s Basilica, Azzone knelt before the Pope and received a crown made specially for the occasion along with the title of Holy Roman Emperor.

    [1]This fellow is my mashed-together name for an alt-historical Humanist thinker in the vein of Machiavelli or Guiccicardini

    [2]This is the OTL Henry V, of Agincourt fame. We will be hearing more of the man in time.

    [3]I toyed with the possibility of a Gelre-centered Netherlands-Westphalia in my initial timeline, and am eager to diverge fairly early with some of the “might have been” dynastic states of the period. We’ll be hearing more from the lords of Gelders-Julich in the future.

    [4] Note that the Percy rebellion has not occurred. Lord Regent Henry, Duke of Lancaster stands on firmer political and economic footing than King Henry IV, regicide and usurper. This, and the dowries of Isabella and Giovanna, give him a much firmer financial status, which translates into a more aggressive foreign policy.

    [5]Although the House of Luxemburg had terrible luck with children, Mary’s death (alongside that of her premature baby boy) was far too contingent to be guaranteed to happen. Both have survived TTL and are alive at the time of this meeting.
     
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    Ultima Ratio Regni
  • Ultima Ratio Regni​

    The Lord Regent Henry, Duke of Lancaster appointed his son Henry of Monmouth as Duke of Aquitaine on October 5, 1405. Henry arrived in Aquitaine with two thousand men and back pay for the existing garrison, but it was clear that he would have to depend largely on his own resources. The young prince staked his career on the issue, financing much of the campaign through loans with Florentine banks mortgaged against his wife’s estates in Avignon; he also appealed directly to his uncle by marriage- King Henry of Castille- and Henry’s brother King Ferdinand of Aragon, offering an alliance against the House of Foix by which the three men might destroy French power in Occitania forever.

    Two decades prior, Gaston Phoebus had balked at outright insurrection, but he had for all purposes been the king in all but name below the Loire. Occitania chafed under harsh taxation orchestrated and overseen by appointees for the licentious absentee Duke of Berry; according to the terms of the Anglo-French truce the region was additionally forced to pay patis, or protection money, to Anglo-Gascon routiers occupying key strongholds throughout the region, the sole restraint being a tepid admonition to maintain “reasonable” demands against the population. Largely ignored and neglected by Paris, the Occitans had already rioted against the king’s minister the Duke of Berry; only fear of England, and loyalty to the King- and the obvious reprisals that would follow overt treason- prevented the province from directly breaking with the royal government. Aragonese invasion thus opened the door towards a clear political alternative, and many in the region were tempted to cast their lot with the invaders.

    Ferdinand had until this point tacitly allied with King Charles III of Navarre against James of Urgell, owing to the marriage of Charles to Eleanor of Castille, aunt of Henry of Castille and Ferdinand of Aragon. A prudent and cautious king, his policy of diplomatic reconciliation and internal reform had done much to stabilize the kingdom after the disastrous reign of his father Charles the Bad, and Ferdinand had married one of his sons to Charles III’s daughters, the Princess Blanche, as part of a general Navarrese policy of cautious diplomatic neutrality. Had Charles III lived, he likely would have continued to maintain a careful balance between France, England, and the Spains, but his unexpected illness and death in 1406 at the age of forty-two created a dangerous power vacuum in the Basque homeland. Charles left no sons; the throne was claimed by Charles’ eldest daughter Princess Joanna, now twenty-four years old, and her husband, the Grailly Count of Foix; not willing to allow a rival to accede to such a critical position, Ferdinand- backed by his brother Henry- claimed the throne on behalf of Blanche, Joanna’s twenty-one-year-old younger sister and spouse of the seven-year-old John of Aragon, Ferdinand’s second son. Castille and Aragon launched a joint invasion of Navarre, occupying the kingdom and installing the young John as King John II of Navarre alongside his wife, who reigned as Blanche I of Navarre; the lords of Grailly in their desperation allied themselves with the Duke of Orleans and the Counts of Armagnac, who both refused to acknowledge John’s accession. Ferdinand in retaliation revived the old Navarrese claims to Normandy and Champagne. War between Spain and France was now inevitable.

    Ferdinand and eight thousand Spaniards crossed the Pyrenees with the spring thaw in early March 1407, proclaiming their intent to reassert lapsed Aragonese rights to the Kingdom of Mallorca’s estates in Languedoc, as well as the more extravagant and historic claims to the County of Toulouse, which before the 13th Century conquests of Philip Augustus had largely followed the orbit of Barcelona; in truth, Ferdinand’s ambitions may have extended all the way to the Alps, encompassing both Provence and the Italian islands of Sicily and Sardinia and even the distant Duchy of Athens, all territories claimed or held at times by the Catalans in the preceding centuries. Like so many ambitions of the period, Ferdinand would in time run aground on the harsh rocks of fiscal reality.

    The Fortress City of Carcassone had long been the cornerstone of France’s southern border. Considered impregnable by contemporaries, the Old City had resisted Edward II in 1350, although the New City had succumbed to a sack. In the event Ferdinand did not intend to take the city by force. Ferdinand’s agents were already active in the city, playing on fears of a new Taille imposed by Louis of Orleans to provoke armed insurrection; dissident citizens succeeded in murdering the royal castellan and opening the gates, admitting the Catalan army with little bloodshed. Ferdinand proclaimed his intention to “liberate” Languedoc and reclaim the old County of Toulouse, vowing to defend the cities’ ancient liberties, free them from the hated taille levies and ending all pillaging and extortion at the hands of the hated English.

    Ferdinand’s offer of protection had the hidden dagger of a potential sack, made especially dangerous by his tacit alliance with Henry of Aquitaine. Ferdinand was not prepared to openly acknowledge Plantagenet claims to the French throne, but he was prepared to recognize English sovereignty over Gascony and support his cousin with military force; in return Henry acknowledged that Aragon would rule the Languedoc territories in full sovereignty- such as the English could offer- and that the two men would “advance like brothers and equitably distribute the spoils of the conquest.” The ambitious young Duke was contemplating the destruction of French power below the Loire and had attempted already to entice his father-in-law Azzone Visconti to abandon his ties with Burgundy and invade France alongside the Spanish. Azzone had little interest in the scheme- for he saw the Burgundians as more useful allies in his confrontation with the Germans, and throughout 1405 repeatedly attempted to pose as a mediator in the renewed hostilities, with little success- but the prospect was serious enough that John and Louis agreed, in a rare moment of unity, to dispatch an envoy to Pavia and negotiate a treaty of friendship with the Italians, including formal recognition of Matteo Visconti as King of Italy. The French also desperately needed Genoese naval support, for Castille- their traditional naval ally- was now an enemy, and the French royal arsenal at Rouen was destitute after successive mothballing of the French Royal Fleet; John himself forced his Flemish subjects to provide ships, which together with the Bretons were dedicated to a prospective blockade of Gascony.

    Azzone exploited French desperation to secure the elevation of Pope Benedict XIII, but otherwise asserted his intention to maintain the truce at Leulinghem, vainly demanding that his nephew’s betrothal to princess Catherine be reinstated with the Dauphinate as dowry; the French departed with rich gifts and a promise not to interfere in the recruitment of Genoese ships and other mercenaries but little else. The Prince of Italy saw little immediate benefit in making an enemy of both Castille and England; indeed, he was corresponding regularly with Henry and had already received an offer of all the lands east of the Rhone in return for an alliance against France- a prospect which did not seem particularly enticing, for although he desired these territories Azzone was not prepared to seize them by force alone, recognizing that French enmity was not worth a sparsely populated border region. Henry nevertheless succeeded in negotiating a temporary truce, for two years, between Italy and Spain, and a vague pledge to appeal to the Pope for mediation of the Anglo-French dispute, which ultimately did little to stop the oncoming hostilities.

    From the beginning the French campaign was poorly augured. A Castilian fleet destroyed the Flemish in the Bay of Biscay, ending the possibility of cutting off Bordeaux by sea and rendering a siege impossible. Louis thus decided, somewhat controversially, to divert the army south into Toulouse, hoping to confront the Spanish and retake the Languedoc; in part, this was undoubtedly an effort to appease his allies the Duke of Berry and the Count of Armagnac, but the decision was to prove fatal to the campaign. Louis poorly understood the situation in Southern France- sapped by war and plague, the region was simply not capable of supporting his massive army without incurring serious hardship, and Louis’ ham-fisted requisitions and demands only enflamed tensions and drove the local population further into the arms of the Spanish.

    Ferdinand’s army refused to give battle and withdraw into their captured fortresses. Louis found Toulouse firmly garrisoned and provisioned and openly defiant against its nominal sovereign- after unfurling the Oriflamme, Louis was astonished to hear the city’s representatives boldly proclaiming that “your sovereign” had lost God’s favor, reiterating their loyalties to the House of Trastamara and mocking the ancient banner of French royalty. Louis was forced to commit to a siege, all while facing continual harassment from the English and the Aragonese; an outbreak of disease worsened the situation, including the death of the Duke of Anjou, last of his line, to a wasting sickness. Within weeks it was clear that the French were unlikely to prevail without a dangerous assault, and Louis began seeking a diplomatic solution; his enemies, understanding the appeals as a sign of weakness, gave no reply and waited out the clock. By August the siege had been abandoned, the French retreating in disgrace for want of funds and supplies.

    Ferdinand meanwhile had withdrawn further to Rousillon, scathingly castigating his brother for failing to substantively support the war effort in favor of a renewed campaign against Grenada. While at Rousillon he was informed of King Henry’s demise, forcing him to scurry back across the Pyrenees into Castile- in the words of an English playwright, racing his own tongue back to his brother’s corpse- and assumed the regency for his infant nephew; this would be the limit of Ferdinand’s involvement in France for the foreseeable future. Yet Spain, tremulous or not, now had a foothold north of the mountains- Toulouse, for now, remained defiantly loyal to Ferdinand and his ministers, seeing little profit in begging forgiveness from a distant and dysfunctional Parisian government, while Narbonne and Montpelier had declared themselves under the sovereignty of Mallorca and cast out the French governors; the Aragonese also held both Foix and Bearn by inheritance, although the forces of Armagnac successfully resisted an attack on Comminges. French weakness further enabled Henry of Aquitaine to go on the counterattack, overrunning the Perigord and Limousin. By the end of 1407 it seemed that France might lose all her territories south of the Loire, only the County of Armagnac offering any meaningful resistance.

    Louis- now twice humiliated- returned to Paris and immediately set about seizing control over the government. He asserted that the defeat was the judgment of God for abandoning Avignon and demanded new taxes to continue his war, additionally “persuading” the King to grant Anjou and Maine to himself, an act which instantly made Louis the largest landowner in France other than the King. Control over the royal treasury gave Louis and his allies an enviable stream of income; conversely, John of Burgundy found his income drying up- indeed, the measures would likely have bankrupted Burgundy eventually. Under the circumstances, John’s decision to murder his cousin was entirely predictable; John had not forgiven Louis’ meddling in Gelre, nor for the effective banishment of his supporters and was not prepared to accept the loss of power and status in the capital. On 1407 Louis was cut down in the streets of Paris. John- far from repentant of his fratricidal plot– celebrated the murder, summoning the radical lawyer to denounce the murdered Louis as a tyrant and professing the murder an act of justice. Louis’ kin naturally took a poor view of this line of argument but overplayed their hand- caught between Burgundian troops and the unrelenting hostility of the Parisian mob, Louis’ supporters were gradually neutralized throughout the next two years as John gained control over the state. John’s hamfisted demagoguery and paranoid hoarding of power and influence bruised the sentiments of other leading princes. Timidity and want of wealth and leadership temporarily delayed hostilities, but the Armagnac Party- named for the Count of Armagnac who would come to lead them- slid inexorably towards an armed confrontation with the Burgundians.

    Azzone by this time was preparing his war against the Luxemburgs and deeply desirous of a military alliance with France. The Emperor’s claim to Hungary rested entirely on his marriage to Joanna of Anjou, last of the direct Capetian Anjou and daughter of the late King Charles III of Naples, who had won the loyalty of Croatian and Dalmatian lords before his murder in Budapest in 1386. Azzone intended to revive those ties and provoke a revolt against Sigismund in Croatia, by which he would pry the Illyrian littoral out of Sigismund’s hands and create a new salient to contest the King’s control over the Throne of St Stephen; the contest would clearly involve Germany as well, since his claim to the Holy Roman Empire necessitated claiming the Kingdom of Germany. When the King assembled his army and allies in Pavia in the winter of 1406, he did so under the banner of defending Italy against a murderous tyrant; this was no mere rhetoric, for Sigismund was indeed planning an invasion of Italy, benefiting from a renewed truce with the Turks, deep in the middle of a succession crisis after the defeat, capture, and later death of Bayezid at the hands of Tamerlane at the Battle of Ankara in 1402. The Emperor planned a campaign for the summer of 1407, with the goal of seizing Austrian Carinthia and thereafter attacking into the Pannonian plain; this military offensive was accompanied simultaneously with a renewed diplomatic effort to spark resistance to Luxemburg rule in Germany.

    Germany itself had two rival kings, both in opposition to Azzone Visconti. An outright alliance with Sigismund’s rival Rupert of the Palatinate was out of the question- having claimed the Holy Roman Empire and maintaining the illegality of Wenceslaus’ deposition, Azzone could not turn about and cooperate with a man purporting to be his liege- but Rupert and Azzone were clearly in communication. Lombard gold found its way into the German King’s pockets, and the two, if not formal allies, nevertheless agreed to a tacit truce, presenting a unified front against the more dangerous Sigismund. Pope Benedict XIII excommunicated Sigismund in late October 1406, citing kinslaying and breaking flag of truce, both crimes he was clearly guilty of; in practice the Pope’s authority was limited to south of the Alps and west of the Rhine, but Sigismund’s inability or unwillingness to elevate a new pontiff did hurt his prestige. Instead, Sigismund embraced the dissident elements within Bohemia and- following in the Spanish and English model- proclaimed the cession of the Hungarian, Bohemian, and German churches from Papal control. Henceforth, the putative Hungarian Holy Roman Emperor would be “advised” by a regency council composing the leading clerical figures within his kingdoms, exercising supreme clerical authority in the Papacy’s “absence.”

    The Visconti patriarch sought to secure for himself the Bavarian regency of Ernest’s five-year-old son Albert, heir to Bavaria-Munich, the core of the Wittelsbach domains in southern Germany. Albert’s lands were potentially under threat from a collateral branch, the house of Bavaria-Straubing which ruled in Holland under Count William. William was however an ally of John of Burgundy and therefore amenable to Azzone’s entreaties. He declared his support for Pope Benedict and- alongside John- accepted Azzone’s coronation as Emperor. To do otherwise would have upset the tenuous peace established in Holland at the conclusion of the fratricidal Hook and Cod War between the Countess and her son, William’s late mad brother. Holland and much of the Low Countries had remained loyal to the Roman Pontiff, and most readily accepted the end of the Schism orchestrated by the Burgundians and Visconti. With Albert’s support the Visconti seized control of Munich and the ducal government, marshalling the remaining Wittelsbach partisans against the House of Luxemburg.

    Armed force would ultimately dictate the course of events, but the groundwork of the coming campaign was laid with letters, demonstrating the fundamentally political nature of the conflict, in which competing dynastic and political claims compelled the two kingdoms to quarrel. Italy and Hungary had a deep-seated conflict over the Adriatic littoral, owing to the longstanding rivalry between Venice and Hungary, which also embroiled the feudal lords of southern Germany.

    Venice had already eroded Carniola’s territory by successfully asserting claims to the Istrian March, while the Habsburgs poached Tirol. By the 15th Century the Counts had largely abandoned Gorizia for Lienz, an Alpine redoubt. Azzone cleverly played up the distant familial ties between the Mainhardiners and the Bavarian Wittelsbachs and swiftly recognized that the family would value a protector willing to defend their rights against both the Venetians and the Habsburgs, and his gifts and attention certainly were well received by the family. The Count entered an alliance after 1406, agreeing to acknowledge Azzone as Emperor and King; in return certain assurances were made as to his territories, and it was hinted that- if he would agree to sell Gorizia to the Visconti Emperor and form an alliance- he might gain in return the Duchy of Styria, then in possession of the Leopoldine [check] Habsburgs. In practical terms the Meinhardiners had little in the way of manpower or money to offer, but the use of their lands- and the denial of these lands to the enemy- consolidated Latin control over the Izonzo Valley. Gorizia was occupied by the Visconti in late 1406, while a contingent of Lombards crossed the Brenner Pass laden with gifts and were feted in Lienz. Together with the coup in Munich and existing alliance with the Swiss Cantons, Azzone had succeeded in marshalling the key rivals to Habsburg power to his side.

    Sigismund was likewise cultivating his allies in this period. Since the conclusion of the Turkish War, he had maintained close ties with the Serbian Despot Stefan Lazarevic, as well as the princes of Wallachia and Moldova, all three of whom pledged themselves as Hungarian vassals and allies. Within Germany Sigismund could rely upon the powerful Habsburg dynasty, which dominated much of Austria, as well as maintaining a strong presence in Bohemia owing to concessions granted to the Bohemian magnates. Sigismund also secured an alliance with King Wladyslaw II of Poland by the marriage of his son Louis to the Princess Elizabeth. Wladyslaw and Sigismund were related by marriage, for both had married daughters of King Louis the Great of Poland and Hungary. Sigismund had married Mary and had a living son as well as a daughter, whereas Wladyslaw II of Lithuania had married the youngest daughter Jadwiga, who had died in childbirth in 1399; he had then remarried to Anna of Cillje, whose mother was a Polish Princess, but the claims of Sigismund’s son were too potent to ignore, and the marriage defused tensions as well as inviting the possibility of a renewed union of Poland and Hungary under the Luxemburg Dynasty. Sigismund was in fact clearly angling to position himself as the rightful heir of Louis the Great; he openly styled himself as King of Naples and schemed to destroy the Venetians, asserting Hungarian supremacy in the Adriatic littoral once and for all.

    Azzone could wield power in the north as regent and suzerain of his nephews, King Matteo of Italy and Duke of Tuscany, but the core of his strength came from his own reputation and resources, both of which he gambled on the upcoming campaign. Naples alone provided half of his army- nearly eight thousand soldiers. Lombardy raised an equal force through a series of coerced loans, a direct levy instituted with the consent of the Pavian Senate, and the pawning of Queen Isabella’s remaining wedding dowry. Funds were sufficient to maintain the army in the field for at least two seasons, but a lengthy campaign of conquest was unlikely to be resolved quickly. After seizing Carniola in the summer of 1407 therefore Azzone determined to find and confront Sigismund in open battle; he therefore took his army south into Croatia, marching along the river, an open challenge that the Luxemburg King amply accepted.

    Sigismund’s herald intercepted the Lombards in Slavonia, near the banks of the Sava River. Croatia was loosely controlled by the Hungarians in this period, and Azzone had- with the assistance of the Lackfi Family, dominant players in Croatia and Slavonia before Sigismund had murdered their Ban and his followers in 1397- determined to make a stand in favorable ground. Sigismund initially was inclined not to press an attack, awaiting further reinforcements, but Azzone was able to provoke the Hungarians to battle through a feigned withdrawal. The Emperor’s Albanians engaged the Hungarians in skirmishing, and their retreat triggered a disorderly Hungarian pursuit, in which the better part of Hungary’s nobility would be caught out of position and slaughtered by the Lombard infantry in close quarters combat.

    Hungary until this point was justly considered one of the predominant powers in Central Europe. Its strong, prestigious monarchs commanded the richest gold mines in Europe and powerful feudal estates along the rich Danube valley. Northern Italy in contrast, through forcible reunification under the Lombards, had forged a semi-professional mercenary army financed by an impressive civil administration. This force tended to be ad hoc and quite international- the Swiss featured prominently, as would men from the Arpitan provinces and the Albanian and Slavic principalities of the southern Dinarics; native Italian princes from the Two Sicilies or Lombardy were also present, providing a core of heavily armored cavalry. On the banks of the, the Magyar nobility was to learn the same harsh lessons taught to the French half a century prior at Crecy and Poitiers; cut off from their host, the Magyars came under intense fire from crossbowmen and light artillery pieces entrenched in the Italian camp. Much like the English had done at Poitiers, the Lombard cavalry succeeded in outmaneuvering their opponents and taking the Hungarians in the flank. Caught between the Swiss and the Lombards, the cream of Hungary’s nobility was slaughtered; Sigismund himself fled, drowning while attempting to cross the Sava. Also among the slain was Frederick II of Cellje, whose rich estates in Styria were seized by the Emperor, and Nicholas II Garai was captured.

    The old Kingdom of Lombardy had effectively ceased to exist after the disastrous Magyar victory at the Battle of the Brenta in 899; victory over the Magyars four centuries later had the opposite effect. Yet beyond this consolidation its immediate effects were somewhat muted. Azzone had claimed both Hungary and the Empire to undercut Sigismund’s authority and outflank German-Imperial attempts at reasserting sovereignty over Italy. Flush with victory, the Emperor was hardly inclined to abdicate his claim to the Roman Empire- and it was likely politically impossible for him to do so- but the Hungarian throne was another matter. Sigismund’s death decapitated the Luxemburgs but did not destroy them- in addition to the venerable Jobst, Margrave of Brandenburg and de facto ruler of Bohemia, Sigismund left behind a twelve-year-old son Prince Louis- now King Louis II of Hungary- and Azzone’s nephew Charles in Bohemia, son of the deposed Emperor Wenceslaus and a prisoner in all but name in Prague. The death of Rupert of the Palatinate and subsequent unanimous election of Jobst of Brandenburg thwarted Azzone’s own hopes to seek election and acclamation by the German nobility.

    Under the circumstances Azzone decided to make peace with Budapest. The presence of nearly every major Hungarian noble at Sigismund’s side told the Emperor that his claim was not particularly respected in Hungary itself- Charles of Naples, after all, had depended primarily upon the Croatian nobility, and had been assassinated in Pest by his rivals. A pliant (if independent) Hungary was ultimately more useful to him than an unruly conquest, particularly given the shift in his focus towards the German Electors. The Emperor’s resources, moreover, were not infinite. He could not command the Lombard princes, save as his nephew King Matteo’s nominal suzerain, and such suzerainty depended on assurances of defending against foreign “tyranny.” Continued wartime taxation would have upended the domestic peace of Lombardy, and his own resources, though substantial, were not without limit. His allies, also, were inclined to negotiate. Pope Benedict XIII wanted to restore his authority over the Latin Church and was prepared to accept the Luxemburgs back into his good graces- indeed, he likely preferred them to an unchecked Azzone ruling an Italo-Hungarian union. The Venetians likewise pressed firmly for peace- they entered the war to secure control over Gorizia, Istria, and Dalmatia, and had little interest in encouraging Visconti ambitions vis a vis Budapest; much as with the Turks, they wished to use the Lombards as glorified condotierri, summoned to defeat their rivals and then swept out the door when the deed was done. Ultimately it was the Queen Regent of Italy, Sophia of Bavaria, who took the lead in negotiations. Her greatest concern- beyond asserting her own rights in Pavia and defending those of her son- was to free her brother Ernest from Hungarian captivity. Negotiation suited that purpose far better than continued hostilities, and Mary and Sophia consequently hammered out a “Queen’s Peace” settling the eastern frontier. Azzone agreed to set aside his claim to the Hungarian throne, release his prisoners without ransom, and acknowledge Louis of Hungary as his ally; in return he was acknowledged as “King, Prince, and Emperor” and allowed to retain his twin conquests of Croatia and Carniola. The Hungarians were obliged to pay an impressive indemnity of 2,000,000 florins for the renunciation of Azzone’s claims to the Throne of St Stephen; his wife Joanna was further granted a lifetime annual subsidy amounting to 50,000 florins. Louis of Hungary stood to inherit Brandenburg from his aging uncle Jobst of Moravia. Now in his fifties and childless, upon his death Jobst’s Electorate would pass to Louis of Hungary. It was agreed that upon inheriting the territory, Louis would cast his vote for Azzone Visconti and support his claim to the Empire; in return Azzone pledged that after securing the Empire he would retrocede Croatia- sans Dalmatia- to Hungary and embark upon a new Crusade against the Ottoman Turks.

    Peace with Hungary also reflected the Emperor’s growing preoccupation with France, which he hoped to deploy as an ally against the recalcitrant Germans. First, however, he would have to grapple with the simmering civil war between Burgundy and Armagnac, which also by necessity implicated the German principalities of the Lower Rhine.

    By the time of his death in 1406, William III and I was arguably one of the most powerful men in Germany. After succeeding to Julich upon his father’s death he had married the heiress Maria of Guelders, successfully fighting for his wife’s claim to that duchy. In addition to marrying his daughter Margaret to the Duke of Orleans, he had made his bastard son Arnold Prince-Bishop of Cologne, and in 1402 he claimed the inheritance of his nephew William VII- the counties of Berg and Ravensberg- assembling a potent collection of territory in the Lower Rhineland. Upon his death, he had allegedly made his three sons pledge to jointly oppose the House of Burgundy, and the eldest, the valiant William IV of Julich, was certainly his father’s son. In December 1405, while he was still heir, the younger William intervened in the revolt of Liege against its thirty-three-year-old bishop John of Bavaria, a man “more akin to Hector or Achilles” whose sole qualification to govern was being the brother of William the Count of Holland and a staunch ally of the House of Burgundy. William of Julich had interceded on behalf of the Liegois, helping to expel the Prince Bishop and taking up the government of the city as regent. After succeeding his father, William thereafter began systematically conquering the principality, with the ultimate goal of annexing it directly into his domains. On July 5, 1408, John departed Paris at the head of an army. A skilled campaigner with a strong numerical advantage, the experienced Duke would nevertheless be outmatched by his audacious young rival. Meeting the Liegois at the Battle of Othee on September 1, John’s army- 8000 strong- initially succeeded in outmaneuvering the larger Liege militia force, but William’s personal retinue counterattacked and routed the dismounted men-at-arms, forcing John to withdraw from the principality and regroup.[2]

    Events in Paris quickly forced John’s withdrawal. Even before his departure from Paris, the Queen Isabella’s brother Louis of Bavaria had gained control over the Dauphin’s household, and in late June they extracted King Charles from Melun. On July 2 a council presided by the lucid King secretly met and revoked the pardon issued to John for the murder of Louis of Orleans, and in September the assembled royal court formally denounced John of Burgundy. This was followed by a formal offer of alliance made to Duke William against Burgundy and a call for renewed offensives against the English in Aquitaine.

    Edward IV initially disinclined to involve himself in France, but nevertheless- at his wife’s urging- began tentative talks with both sides, seeking to force a resolution favorable to England’s interests. Yet King Edward found that neither parties were much inclined for a direct alliance- indeed, neither the Armagnac nor the Burgundians were prepared to negotiate in good faith, because neither truly desired an alliance with England; rather, both merely wished to prevent England from intervening on behalf of their rivals. The Armagnac flatly refused to consider any treaty failing to acknowledge Aquitaine as a legally French fief- essentially a revisitation of the terms offered Richard II in the 1380s and far removed from the situation on the ground. John of Burgundy meanwhile was perhaps desperate enough to consider serious concessions, but not to England- he had determined to partner instead with Italy, appealing to Azzone Visconti for a new alliance sealed by the marriage of Princess Isabella of France and Matteo the King of Lombardy.

    The Lombards, despite their somewhat dubious reputation, did not inspire the same visceral hostility among the Parisian intelligentsia, and Azzone’s territorial ambitions were far less threatening to France: he demanded, and received, the Valentinois, Lyonnais, and Dauphinate as the Princess’s dowry, which would- together with Provence- be reconstituted as an Electoral Kingdom of Burgundy for his younger son. Excluding Lyons, these territories were not de jure part of France, the Dauphinate having passed to the kingdom in 1349 when the last count had sold the territory to France in return for promises of autonomy and a pledge that it would be retained by the crown prince, henceforth known as the Dauphin; in practice it was treated by France as a distant province, albeit one laxly governed. Yet the French had never disputed Imperial sovereignty over the territory, a subtle legal distinction which meant that the provinces east of the Rhone could be ceded without injuring French sovereignty. In return for the territory and recognition of his claim to the Imperial Throne Azzone pledged to personally enter France with an army of ten thousand and support his goodbrother against the Armagnacs, and if necessary, Spain and England as well; John was additionally to receive a royal crown from Azzone’s own hand, probably a reference to the lapsed imperial kingdom of Lotharingia, although the precise title was not explicitly determined until later negotiations.

    John’s ultimate ambition was to rule France as the power behind the throne and he was not initially inclined to accept a royal crown. Three factors pressed him towards distancing his realm from Paris. First, the ongoing peace negotiations with England threatened his position by opening the possibility of English sovereignty over the Low Countries. By 1409 it was clear that Edward IV’s government firmly desired a permanent settlement with France and was willing to accept the alienation of Aquitaine under a cadet line, but in return King Edward was demanding sovereignty over Flanders and Artois, a demand that the Mad King Charles of France and the Dauphin Louis- at sixteen, now tentatively in a position to act as an independent agent- were both inclined to accept as the price of peace. John thus somewhat belatedly decided to accept Azzone’s offer and preemptively alienate Flanders from France by incorporating it into a new kingdom.

    The other two factors touched on John’s control over his unruly Flemish subjects. Talk of tax reform in France incited the Flemings to appeal to Paris as subjects of the French king. John, in a sense, was a victim of his own success; although sympathetic to trimming the fat off the royal government, his objective as a prince was to seize the revenues won through wartime taxation and repurpose them towards his own lavish lifestyle. Fiscal reform therefore undermined the benefit of retaining control in Paris, since it would by necessity reduce the opportunities for graft and patronage. More troublingly, the Flemings were intrigued at the possibility of using the French King to leverage concessions from Burgundy. Only full sovereignty would prevent Paris from meddling in his estates. Finally, John wanted to use the royal crown to assert his rights over the Dukes of Julich, now a clear threat to his influence in the Rhineland. Much as the Visconti had discovered in Italy, a royal crown carried its own inexorable weight, building a political inertia which compelled great magnates to seek total sovereignty over their lands.

    Azzone personally entered France with his army in August 1409, besieging and taking Bourbon, a critical Armagnac stronghold. Pressed for time, the Emperor ordered a harsh assault; he began with an intense two-week-long bombardment to destroy the towers, before ordering his Swiss- who had dug trenches leading up to the wall- to storm the battlements. Bloody fighting eventually saw the Italians carry the day, and the city was put to a brutal sack. Azzone personally crowned John of Burgundy the following week, being hailed by the French and Italians alike as August Emperor of the Romans. John effectively dictated terms to his rivals- although the young Charles of Orleans was allowed to retain part of his father’s inheritance, John seized Luxemburg and reclaimed Anjou for the royal domain. John also forced through recognition of his own royal claims and- backed by his supporters in Paris and other cities- pressed a revised taxation scheme, eliminating the wartime levies and inviting representatives of the major cities to air their grievances at court.

    This was not simply the demand of the northern cities- John, ever a canny politician, recognized that winning back the Languedoc would require easing the onerous tax burden. John personally invited representatives from Toulouse (but not Lyons, which by agreement had been ceded to the Visconti) and the other cities of the south, even extending the offer to Bordeaux; were it not for Henry’s presence in the city and force of personality the city may well have sent a delegation, for the Gascons were always eager to play both sides of the Anglo-French dispute to their advantage. Simultaneously John opened negotiations with both Ferdinand of Aragon and Edward IV in England, recognizing that both men were likely more amenable to peace than Henry of Aquitaine.

    The Lord Regent of Lancaster had come to power with the tacit promise to end Ricardian “tyranny”: this meant, primarily, a reduction in taxes and incorporation of leading men into the government. As regent for an underage king, Henry’s tenure in power was definitionally of limited duration, and the financial strain of the Welsh revolt and war in Scotland sapped his support. Although the capture of the eleven-year-old James I of Scotland had effectively ended the major resistance to Henry’s conquest, the campaigns had resulted in the undue elevation of the mighty Percy family, who seized much of Lothian for themselves. Henry increasingly favored their Neville rivals in Northumbria, a policy which alienated the more powerful Percies and pushed the young heir ‘Hotspur’ in particular into the anti-Lancastrian camp.

    King Edward himself also became an increasing factor in the English government. In many ways he was far removed from his father- genial yet diffident, charming yet impetuous, Edward IV was a man, noted by the Castillan ambassador, to be “well suited for the ceremonies of kingship and poorly suited for its duties.” Known to history as Edward the Good and by later historians as Edward the Gilded, his reign was remarkable for its relative placidity and subtle malaise. The King himself, though not particularly talented or opinionated, was- barring disability or tyranny- not a factor to be totally discarded. More to the point, he was the obvious figurehead for any opposition to the Lord Regent’s government. Chief among his supporters was his wife, the seventeen-year-old Isabella of France. Praised as a magnanimous and charming young woman, she had also inherited much of her grandfather’s political acumen. Like her predecessor Anne of Bohemia, she was also fortunate to enjoy an affectionate relationship with her husband; it would be remarked that of the two thoughts typically rattling about in Edward’s vacuous head, at least one was the Queen’s. Isabella, naturally, was a determined advocate of peace with France, and resentful of the upstart Lancastrians; she also seemed to have an intense personal loathing for the Lord Regent Henry, both for his regicide and his brusque and arrogant demeanor. Isabella, together with leading figures in Parliament, succeeded in gaining her husband his majority in 1408, dismissing Henry of Lancaster as regent. The new government then sent out feelers to Paris for a renewed truce. Edward had come around to the idea of trading Aquitaine for Flanders- and perhaps also Brittany- and immediately cut off all material support for the wayward Duke Henry of Aquitaine, commanding that he immediately return to England and assume his father’s estates or else forfeit them to his younger brother Thomas of Clarence and be branded a traitor.

    Withdrawal of English support was by this time the least of Henry’s difficulties: Ferdinand of Aragon had opened his own negotiations with France, threatening the entire basis for Henry’s scheme of conquest. At heart a prudent opportunist, Ferdinand had been willing to entertain an invasion of France while the country the verge of civil war, but continued hostility against a victorious Italo-Burgundian alliance was another matter. Ferdinand decided to cash out while he was ahead and secure what gains were possible at the peace table. John, for his part, was willing to be quite generous. He was prepared to accept Aragonese sovereignty over not only Foix and Bearn but also Comminges- for the House of Armagnac was no friend of Burgundy; in return, John demanded the renunciation of Navarrese claims and interests in France and a renewal of the old alliance between Castille and France. The French further offered the port city of Bayonne, ethnically Basque but under English occupation, and nominally a French fiefdom held by the Dukes of Gascony; this offer nearly destroyed negotiations, as it was understood- correctly- as a tacit demand to betray the alliance with Henry and the English. Ferdinand, “extorted” to accept Bayonne, pressed his claims north into Languedoc, gaining the old Mallorcan estate of Montpelier as well as Narbonne and Carcasonne at the border; it was not clear whether the latter two cities were to be held as French fiefs, for the Spanish inserted a term by which they would be exempt from any form of homage until the French paid a cash indemnity and did not explicitly offer any form of homage or suzerainty over the ceded territories. Ferdinand’s remaining supporters in Toulouse and the Languedoc were obliged to either accept a royal pardon or depart for Spain with their property and their lives.

    If Henry had any ambitions to make himself King of Aquitaine, these were swiftly discarded; outmaneuvered diplomatically and facing the increasing hostility of his sovereign in London, the young Duke reacted swiftly, agreeing to a private truce with the French. John was willing to accept this, because staunching the southern ulcer allowed him to shift his attention, towards a wholly self-interested invasion of Germany. After the Lombards crossed the Rhone in May 1409, Henry personally met with and sealed an alliance with his father-in-law; he and his 3000 strong army became a condotierri company in the pay of the Emperor. Aquitaine had long acted autonomously, but Henry’s actions signaled a newfound willingness for the Duchy to manage its own affairs, and fatally weakened England’s bargaining position with France. Edward IV’s government was ultimately forced to accept the fait accompli, although they formally conceded nothing to the French. In 1410, English ambassadors secured a renewal of the old truce; no mention was made of Aquitaine, nor the status of Flanders or Edward’s claim to the French throne; yet the truce was for all purposes quite favorable to France, for it freed John to devote himself fully to supporting the Visconti war in Germany.

    Emperor Jobst of Moravia died on 1411, at the venerable age of 65. Lacking any sons, Brandenburg passed to his cousin Louis of Hungary. A new election would have to be held and Charles of Bohemia was the clear German candidate, but before the electors could assemble, they were curtly informed by French ambassadors that they would have to recognize Pope Benedict and the various diplomatic treaties signed between the Visconti and Burgundy- namely, recognition of the Lombard and Lotharingian Crowns. These letters were backed by an impressive military tour de force: including the Anglo-Gascons, the combined armies numbered more than 30,000 men, a hardened military force under capable leaders.

    William marshalled his own allies in Liege, and the Prince-Bishoprics of Cologne, Mainz, and Trier, assembling a German army of nearly twelve-thousand which crossed into Lorraine on August 4, 1410, attempting to intercept the Duke of Burgundy. Instead, they found the Emperor’s army, and- unwilling to deny the chance to defeat his enemies in detail- William determined to meet and destroy the Emperor’s superior army, making his stand near Metz on August 9.

    The Lombards were initially disinclined to give battle. William’s force, although numerically inferior, was strongly positioned along the road leading north towards Flanders, with woodland anchoring both flanks. On the urging of Henry of Aquitaine, the Emperor decided to offer battle; Henry appealed to the Emperor’s pride, noting that “he is graced by God and must assert his rights as sovereign of Europe” by meeting such defiance with overwhelming force. The Emperor had a decisive advantage in both numbers and quality- between the Genoese crossbows and the contingent of English Longbows the Lombards had the advantage in missile combat. Henry proposed advancing their archers in loose formation in front of the Swiss pikes, while the Lombard cavalry would take a long detour around the wood and attack the enemy from the rear. This Azzone agreed to do. The English advanced and began peppering the Dutch from range; the Dutch- irritated at the enemy archers- advanced against the enemy, presumably under the impression that the Lombards were withdrawing due to the cavalry’s visible departure. The two forces were engaged in a rough melee lasting the better part of the afternoon, which eventually concluded with the Lombard cavalry breaking the Dutch from the rear. Among the slain were William of Julich and the Bishop of Mainz; the Prince Bishop of Cologne was captured.

    The Battle of Metz effectively destroyed Dutch power for a generation. William’s brothers claimed their brother’s inheritance, as he had died without heirs. On paper an indisputable claim, John of Burgundy was unwilling to let his enemies off so easily. His soldiers confiscated Guelders and Revensberg and likely would have done the same to Julich were it not for the garrison’s heroic resistance and the personal intercession of the Emperor. Arnulf and Gerhard were obliged to due homage to John as King of Lorraine, pay a crippling indemnity, and accept Burgundian garrisons in their lands.

    Azzone Visconti sat upon the throne of Charlemagne on September 14, 1411, wearing the Imperial Diadem and demanding that his nephew come and do homage to him; failure would mean continued war and the despoilation of Germany. The Rhineland was Germany’s heartland, a glittering kaleidoscope of baronies, cities, and bishoprics. Few were prepared to accept Visconti pretensions, but none seemed willing to engage in armed resistance; the general reaction was a muted diffidence, defying the Visconti by ignoring him, seemingly hoping that the Lombards would simply go away. Voicing displeasure by remaining distinctly absent was a time-honored tactic in Imperial German politics. With a proper leader, this latent hostility might have been transformed into a dangerous threat, forcing the Emperor to commit to a grueling campaign of sieges, but no such leader emerged. Charles of Bohemia was too weak, too distant, and too foreign, his feckless father still to recently deposed, to rally the Rhineland against the invaders; the four Electors were either dead, in captivity, or in alliance with the Lombards; and the great House of Julich was on its knees.

    Azzone Visconti himself further assuaged any tensions through his own personal presence. Now forty-two, he had inherited his father’s good looks and his mother’s charm. As a hardened Crusader and rich magnate crowned by the sole Pope in Europe, he could easily fulfill the traditional pillars of Medieval rule: that of a generous, pious, and valiant warlord, a “ring-giver” who was open-handed in dealing with his subjects. For 15th Century Europeans- a people deeply devout- his military and political ascendancy could only be a mark of God’s favor.

    By 1412 Azzone’s allies included both Hungary and Poland, as well as France and Aquitaine. In the north, King Wladyslaw and his ally Vytautas met and destroyed the Teutonic knights at the bloody battle of Grunwald on 1410. The presence of a Hungarian contingent was keenly appreciated, especially in the aftermath of the battle; the Order, although mortally wounded by the battle, continued to fight, skirmishing with the Poles as they invaded Prussia. Yet absent any clear leader to organize a more serious resistance, the knight’s great citadel at Marienburg was forced to submit.[2] The Poles- weary of war and anxious to avoid a costly siege of the great fortress- offered magnanimous terms to induce a peaceful surrender. The Knights were permitted to depart with their arms and personal property, on sufferance of an oath not to take up arms against Poland or any Christian King, and were promised new estates to the south to compensate for the loss of Prussia and Livonia. The order was to be relocated once again, to the edge of the Black Sea, where the Poles would use them to fight the Crimean Tatars. Freed of the threat to his north and now also allied to Louis of Hungary, Wladyslaw reconciled with Azzone Visconti, receiving the Emperor’s blessing to revive Polish claims to Silesia, then under Bohemian control. Charles of Bohemia found himself attacked from three directions, as Louis of Hungary also claimed Jobst’s duchy of Moravia, and the King was captured by the Hungarians and presented to Azzone Visconti as a gift. Charles presented himself before the Emperor at Aachen on May 14, 1412, being embraced and reconciled after doing homage as King of Bohemia. Europe, it seemed, was now at peace; what remained was the formal reunification of the Church and the question of a new Crusade into the east.

    [1] Liege’s revolt happened OTL due to Louis of Orlean’s meddling. Here, the deposition of the Avignon Pope and Louis’ captivity in Italy prevented him from doing the same, but the Lords of Julich stepped into the role. William’s presence essentially flipped the result of the battle- OTL John’s veteran mercenaries annihilated the untrained townsmen, earning him the moniker “Fearless.” TTL William wins the battle and sparks an earlier Armagnac coalition against John of Burgundy.

    [2]OTL the architect of Marienburg’s resistance was Heinrich von Plauen, who was freed from captivity by a successful skirmish between the Teutonic Knights and Poland. Here, he remains a captive.
     
    Emperor of the Romans
  • Emperor of the Romans​

    Although France and Italy had, de facto, forced a reunification of the Latin Church through their independent depositions of Pope Benedict of Avignon and Innocent of Rome, formal reconciliation of the Great Western Schism necessarily required a general conclave led by the Holy Roman Empire and attended by the majority of the Latin West. The conference also quickly became an international forum for diplomatic mediation, in particular a renewed attempt at a lasting Anglo-French peace treaty and Azzone Visconti’s attempt to gin up support for a renewed Crusade against the Mamluk Sultanate of Egypt.

    Henry IV of Lancaster, the son and heir of John of Gaunt, had embarked upon a successful conquest of the Scottish Lowlands and appointed his eldest son Henry of Monmouth as Duke of Aquitaine. This, and the marriage of King Edward II and Princess Isabella of France, substantially altered the contours of Anglo-French relations, intimating new possibilities for peace- but also new dangers. By 1414, Edward’s government had grudgingly accepted the alienation of Aquitaine under a cadet branch of the royal House of Plantagenet, in part due to the dynastic ties between the Lancastrians and the Visconti and Trastamara. France had proposed a peace treaty essentially restoring Aquitaine to nearly the apex of its Angevin borders, but insisted on suzerainty over the duchy; England had until now refused to consider dual sovereignty, owing to the mistrust and hostility engendered by nearly a century of conflict, but the Henrican fait accompli obviated further resistance. Nevertheless, Edward’s government could not formally relinquish their legal claim to Gascony nor the vestigial claim to the French throne without first securing substantive gains in return. So long as the English maintained their theoretical claims, they could pose the threat of an English invasion and legal interventions in French affairs; this threat alone was capable of extracting concessions from Paris. Edward made no secret of his demands: the repudiation of the “Auld Alliance” between Scotland and France and acceptance of his suzerainty over the whole of the British Isles, recognition of English sovereignty over the County of Flanders and Duchy of Brittany, renunciation of French claims to the Pale of Calais and the cession of the whole of the County of Artois, or at least Boulogne and a coastal strip to connect Calais with Flanders. Edward additionally insisted on payment of 1.2 million French ecus, the outstanding balance for the ransom of John II, and a further indemnity to compensate for the lost English territories in Gascony.

    The Dauphin was by no means a political genius, but at least he had possession of his wits. Now nearly sixteen, he was determined to reassert the faltering prestige and power of the French monarchy. In a rare moment of lucidity, his father King Charles agreed to grant the Dauphin the Duchy of Normandy, belated compensation for the loss of the Dauphinate and Valentinois to Italy. John of Burgundy was at the time preoccupied with the governance of Flanders, but did not oppose the grant; “let the boy have his honors,” Burgundy reputedly remarked, “and learn the value of peace and good government.” Nevertheless, power was a zero-sum game, and as the Dauphin’s influence grew, John’s necessarily receded. It was unlikely, in these early years, that the Dauphin- and future King- had decided on the destruction of Burgundy, but the two men were clearly at odds- John had made himself a King in his own right, and the power behind the throne in Paris, and the interests of his state were not necessarily aligned with the interests of France. Nowhere was this clearer than the opposing views on peace with England- John himself refused to consider pledging fealty to England for any of his lands, wrapping himself in the cloak of French patriotism. The Dauphin, in contrast, saw conceding Flanders as the surest path to peace, and increasingly the path to liberating himself from the debilitating domination of the Duke of Burgundy.

    France still maintained nominal suzerainty over Flanders, but the territory had acted autonomously since Edward II’s blockade overthrew the Count’s government. As early as 1402, while the Duke of Orleans had escalated a pirate war against the English, the French court tacitly allowed Philip of Burgundy, in his capacity as Count of Flanders, to negotiate a separate truce with England. The Dauphin therefore saw conceding the point of Flemish sovereignty a relatively cheap price to eliminate English interference in France itself.

    To 15th century minds, religion and politics were two halves of the same coin; among the Emperor’s duties was to defend the Church; Azzone himself based his initial claim on a Papal coronation. Reconciliation of the Schism therefore became a paramount concern. Yet the Church itself was a political object, and the clergy- to their horror- found the assembled nobility determined to make their own arrangements without regard to clerical supremacy. First and foremost was the question of the Papacy, and the final dissolution of its territorial claims in Italy; this issue became pressing due to the demands of the Pope to be restored control over Latium and Umbria as a precondition of his presence, which caused the Emperor to convene the conference on his own initiative.

    The Pope and the Visconti had been somewhat unwilling bedfellows- Azzone’s first instinct, after all, had been to seek Imperial endorsement, and he had only taken up the mantle of Emperor in reaction to Sigismund’s paranoid intransigent hostility. Now that he had the recognition of the German princes, he saw little use in restoring an independent Papal State; yet he could not totally abandon the principle that Papal coronation was necessary for an Imperial reign, at least not without recognition of his own sovereignty in Italy. This principle, at least, was readily conceded by the Germans. The Visconti secured hereditary control over the Imperial Vicariate of Italy and Burgundy together with formal enfeoffment as Kings of Lombardy and Provence; the privileges and rights associated with these offices, together with the Electoral dignity, sufficed to guarantee that the German Emperors, whoever they may be, would not unduly meddle in peninsular affairs. Azzone himself was acknowledged as the heir to the old Latin Empire of the east, further ensuring his dynasty would be able to negotiate with the Germans on an equal footing. Thus mollified, the Italians finally conceded the point, long asserted by the Germans, that election alone sufficed to create an Emperor, and that a Papal coronation was ultimately desirable but unnecessary.

    The Council reiterated the point by formally denouncing the latent doctrine of Papal Infallibility, instead proclaiming that the Councils themselves wielded supreme authority over the Latin Church. Although Papal Infallibility was never formally articulated or endorsed, the Popes had typically acted as the supreme power in Christendom, with the ability to make and unmake kings and emperors. Within Italy and the Holy Roman Empire, the guelf-ghibelline conflict had destroyed the authority of both offices and engendered a corporatist solidarity among the leading German aristocrats, who demanded a more participatory form of governance. This policy was now formally endorsed, and concessions granted to the wayward English and Bohemian Churches, including the use of vernacular in masses and royal veto power over clerical appointments. The council- in a deeply reformist mood- went beyond this, generally denouncing a “corrupt and worldly” priesthood, which was retroactively blamed for the divisions within Europe; in practical terms, this position implied the mediatization of extensive church estates, most notably the Papal Patrimonium in Italy, but also the three Prince Bishoprics in Germany, and other territories such as Trent and Salzburg, which were annexed by Venice and Bavaria, respectively.

    This ideology- clerical reformation through expropriation of church property- was political dynamite, which the assembled royalty of Europe recklessly wielded in the demolition of the landed church; after all, if a despotic Pope could be deposed and his estates seized, then the same fate could easily befall a king or emperor. In fact, within living memory of the Council, King Richard II of England and Emperor Wenceslaus of Bohemia were both overthrown by baronial revolts decrying their tyranny and incompetence. Ultimately the Council’s result was not to separate church from state but to subordinate the church to the state; time would tell what effects this might have on Europe, for such structural questions- along with other seemingly intractable dilemmas, like the question of a lasting Anglo-French peace- were deliberately shelved and left to simmer unanswered. Azzone Visconti was not content to rest on his laurels; he proclaimed a new Crusade for the Holy Land, a Crusade for Jerusalem. This, more than might be appreciated at first glance, demonstrated the Emperor’s keen political instincts, for Europe- war weary, plague-wracked Europe- longed for the idyllic fantasy of a bygone era, the panacea of a “just war” prosecuted for the faith against the infidels.

    Henry of Aquitaine, who was present at the Council, knelt and on the spot took up the banner of the Cross; reputedly he had determined to do so because of the birth of twin sons in 1408- Henry and Edward- an omen taken to signify his connection with Romulus and Remus, and the clear possibility of establishing a new branch of the Plantagenet dynasty in the holy land. The elder Henry had died the following spring, but the birth of a new son Richard seemingly made up for this loss. John of Burgundy also pledged himself to Crusade; nearing forty, this paranoid and sensible politician felt the siren allure of his youthful excursion, a chance to escape the venomous infighting of the capital and the bitter regrets of a civil war.

    On paper at least, the Crusaders would have more than 100,000 soldiers pledged to their cause, a grand international alliance encompassing most of the Catholic world. In the event less than half this number participated, but the Emperor had nevertheless accomplished a remarkable feat: he had rallied nearly the whole of Latin Europe to his cause. Of all the west, only Scotland, Scandinavia, and the Iberian Kingdoms were not pledged to the Crusade or bound to any formal alliance or homage with the Visconti Emperor. For better or worse, the Emperor could embark into the east knowing that his position in Europe was secure.

    It is unclear, at this juncture, as to whether Azzone Visconti himself envisioned limits on his objectives. His wife’s claims gave ample justification to strike east: in addition to the defunct Latin Empire of Romania and Kingdom of Jerusalem, the Neapolitan Anjou claimed suzerainty over Albania and the Greek Crusader States. The Italians had deep and ancient ties crossing the Adriatic; both Venice and Genoa held colonies in the Aegean and the latter also held dominance in the Black Sea, while the lords of Epirus, Corfu, Achaea, and Athens were largely of Latin stock and did homage to the Emperor; both cities had of course profited enormously from the Crusades, and for Genoa especially reclaiming their old commercial privileges in cities such as Acre and Tyre certainly held a strong appeal. Correspondence between Pavia and Venice frankly discussed competing spheres of influence; other records indicate that the Knights Hospitaller wished to reclaim Smyrna and the other Ionian territories lost to Tamerlane in 1402. Yet there were strong signs that the Emperor was already considering an invasion of the Levant. Italian agents were increasingly active in Syria from 1412 onward, appraising the political and military situation. From the perspective of a foreign conqueror, their reports were certainly encouraging: Southwest Asia was geopolitically decrepit and decidedly vulnerable.

    Since the disastrous battle of Ankara in 1402, the Ottoman Sultanate had been ensnared in a fatal fratricidal civil war between competing branches of the ruling family. Tamerlane’s favored grandson and heir Muhummad Sultan Mirza was proclaimed heir. A valiant and successful commander, he had served alongside Timur since the tender age of fifteen, fighting against the Golden Horde, the Muzaffarids of northern Iran, and the Delhi Sultanate of India, before leading an independent Timurid army into Anatolia and successfully seizing the Ottoman treasury in Bursa.[1] Upon his return to Iran in 1403, Tamerlane convened his vassals and extracted an oath of loyalty for his twenty-eight-year-old grandson, who was formally acknowledged as heir. Upon Tamerlane’s death two years later Muhummad Sultan’s succession was comparatively smooth by tribal standards, although he did face an abortive uprising in Khorasan. By 1408 he was secure enough to intervene in the ongoing Ottoman Interregnum, annihilating the army of Mehmed and conquering his capital of Amasya. Timur had captured one of Bayezid’s sons, Musa Osman, and Muhammad Sultan likely intended to invade Thrace and install the captive prince as his vassal in European Turkey, but these plans were thwarted by the outbreak of war with the Mamluk Sultanate of Egypt in 1410.

    Unlike the Ottomans, the Mamluk Sultanate of Egypt had not been destroyed by Tamerlane, but its northern territories had been brutally treated by the self-proclaimed Sword of Islam: Aleppo was taken and massacred, along with Homs and Baalbek, while Damascus itself was roughly sacked despite capitulating voluntarily. A series of plagues and famines in the early 1400s crippled Mamluk power in the Nile Delta, while the succession of a thirteen-year-old Sultan in 1401 led to a series of short-lived rulers beholden to the Syrian emirs, one of whom, al-Mu’ayadd Shaykh, finally took the throne in 1412 and began clawing back central authority with harsh taxation and military expansion into Anatolia. A Mamluk army attacked the Bey of Dulkadir, a Turkish tribe nominally sworn to the Timurids; Muhummad Sultan responded by invading Syria, destroying an Egyptian army near Homs and then besieging Aleppo. Brusque threats alluding to Tamerlane’s brutal sack of the city a decade prior sufficed to win its peaceful submission; mercifully, Muhummad Sultan did not treat the city as his grandfather had treated Damascus, and it was spared further pillaging. The Timurids advanced swiftly through northern Syria, capturing Homs in 1413 and finally extracting tribute from Cairo in return for a temporary truce. The Emir then turned his attention east, conducting a new campaign pillaging the decrepit Delhi Sultanate, before finally returning to his capital of Samarkand in 1416 laden with loot and slaves. It was here that he was approached by the Lombards for a prospective alliance. Emperor Azzone Visconti had contemplated an invasion of Egypt together with the Syrian invasion, but European affairs had diverted his attention. His envoys nevertheless secured a treaty with the Timurid Emir, securing Genoese colonies in Crimea and Pontus in return for an annual tribute. Genoa was also allowed to reclaim Phokea in the Ionian coast, and the Lombards were assured that the Emir would not cross the Bosporus on behalf of the European Ottomans.

    Bayezid’s eldest son Suleyman ruled most of Thrace, part of Macedonia, and all of Bulgaria; unable to exploit his brother’s destruction, he fell victim in 1414 to an overwhelming Italo-Hungarian invasion, which destroyed him and his army at the Battle of Skopje in Macedonia; according to prior agreements, the Hungarians asserted suzerainty over Serbia and the Romanian Principalities, while Lombardy claimed Macedonia, Bulgaria, and Thrace, which were parceled out by the Emperor as prizes for his supporters in Italy and Germany.

    Since the First Lombard-Turkish War, the Byzantine Empire had slipped the Ottoman leash and reclaimed some of its lost territory; Tamerlane’s destruction of Sultan Bayezid and his army seemingly promised Byzantium a renewed opportunity to reinvigorate itself and reconstitute itself as a centralized Greek state. Yet the so-called “Empire of the Romans” was ultimately in no position to profit from Ottoman decline- little more than a glorified city state, the Byzantines lacked the means to free themselves from Latin domination or finance an army capable of conquering and holding extensive territory. When Thrace was conquered by the Latins in 1415, the Byzantine Emperor was unable to press territorial claims save at the sufferance of the hated Catholics; he was allowed by the Latins to reclaim Adrianople, but forced to surrender Gallipoli to the Genoese, and western Thrace was quickly incorporated into the Latin Kingdom of Macedonia over Byzantine objections.

    Byzantium’s short-lived resurgence in the Morea ironically proved its ultimate undoing. Although Achaea had proven one of the more successful Crusader States, by the late 13th century it had been forced, by the Byzantine conquests in the south, to seek the protection of the Kingdom of Naples. The Despotate of the Morea- nominally a vassal of Byzantium, but in practice closer to an ally at times- continually eroded the Principality’s territory, looking for any opportunity to expand at the expense of the Franks. Yet it was clear that a lasting Byzantine reconquest of southern Greece could only occur with the tacit acceptance of the Visconti Emperor. Azzone Visconti had received the homage of the Prince of Achaea and took his role as Latin Emperor seriously; he likely was also influenced by the Venetians, who desired to prevent Byzantine encroachment in a strategically sensitive region. The Western Emperor interceded on his vassal’s behalf, dispatching his youngest and most ambitious son, the teenaged Ladislao of Achaea and charging him with taking possession of the old Angevin territories in Epirus and the Morea. Ladislao entered Greece in 1416 with a sizeable Neapolitan army, defeating the Moreans near the city of Argos in September of that year and thereby forcing Emperor Manuel to sue for peace.

    From the beginning, the Lombards had scant regard for Greek pretensions. Like Constantinople itself, the Byzantine Empire was a decrepit corpse inhabiting the shell of its former glory. The Visconti nevertheless tolerated Byzantine delusions for a time, because Azzone- the son of a kinslaying usurper- could not turn away from even a tattered cloak of legitimacy, and was prepared to tolerate Byzantium as a client king if they were prepared to acknowledge him as a theoretical equal and make no trouble for Lombard interests in the Aegean littoral.

    By the Treaty of Thessalonika in 1416, the Byzantines resumed negotiations for a Church Union with the West, and promised to relinquish territorial claims over Epirus, Albania, Achaea, and Athens in return for vague promises of support in Asia Minor; this treaty, while arguably strategically necessary, was an immediate nonstarter among the Greek citizens, and news of the terms prompted serious unrest in the capital city. Most insulting was the demand that Azzone Visconti be formally acknowledged as Roman Emperor in the west, a concession never granted by the Byzantines, who viewed themselves as the sole heirs of the Romans.

    The Emperor was overthrown by his onetime vassal, the Despot of the Morea, whose supporters invited him to take control over Constantinople and proclaim himself emperor. In the imperial capital, hostility to the domineering Latins sparked a massacre of Italian merchants within the city, including an attack on the Genoese quarter of Galata across the Bosporus. It should be remembered that a similar attack on Galata- along with massacres of Latin merchants- had contributed to the Sack of the 4th Crusade; Genoa, until this point broadly supportive of Byzantium, now joined the Venetians in pressing the Emperor to intervene and “restore order” in the region. Venice herself was leery of Visconti expansion in Greece, not least since Azzone Visconti was now styling himself as Imperator Totus Italiae, but his son Ladislao was more personally amenable to them, offering to grant the Republic Corinth and the Argolid, Bodonitsa in Thessaly, and Thessalonika proper; to the Genoese he offered Gallipoli and certain concessions regarding the Dardanelles.

    Charged by his father with subduing the wayward Greeks, Ladislao- now styling himself as King of Thrace and Macedonia- determined to conquer Constantinople and put an end to Byzantium once and for all. Besieged by both land and sea, and contemptuous of demands for his abdication, the last Byzantine Emperor vanished with the remnants of his soldiers when the city was stormed and sacked; despite Ladislao’s admonitions, he was unable to prevent his army from despoiling the city. He was thereafter crowned King of Greece in the Hagia Sophia on September 14, 1418, eventually gaining a Komnenoi bride from Trebizond.

    Ladislao’s conquest of Byzantium opened the door to greater Latin involvement in Asia Minor. He quickly occupied the Asiatic shore of the Dardanelles, seizing Nikaea in October and defeating the Bey of Aydin in November. Genoa was by this point determined both to control Phocea, a vital source of Alum dye, but also to gain control over the Ionian coast, in effect mirroring Venetian imperialism. These actions in turn aroused the ire of the Timurids, who had received envoys from the Greek Emperor offering submission in return for support against the Latins.

    On paper at least the two powers might conceivably have secured an arrangement partitioning the defunct Ottoman territory. The Emperor was prepared to recognize Timurid sovereignty over Asia Minor- save for the existing Genoese possessions, and possibly Smyrnia, Phokea, and Bythinia- in return for mutual assistance in invading and destroying the Mamluk Sultanate of Egypt. Specifically, Syria was to become part of the Timurid Empire, while the Latins would reclaim Jerusalem and possibly also subjugate Egypt itself; to accomplish this, the Emperor was prepared to take the field personally, with a combined coalition army of 40,000 soldiers assembling at Genoa and departing by sea with an immense warfleet of over 1000 warships and assorted transports. Such an immense enterprise would be financed by a special “Crusader Tax” levied by the Church in cooperation with the Emperor, and in addition to the usual crusader indulgences the Emperor sought to attract supporters through the promise of estates in the Holy Land, particularly the rich Nile Delta, which would in turn serve as the bulwark anchoring Latin power in the Levant. This scheme, like his earlier attempts to negotiate with Sigismund, ignored the political outlook of the Timurid state. Like his infamous grandfather, Jahangir styled himself as the Sword of Islam, a ghazi who defended and expanded the faith through conquest and patronage. Moreover, Muhummad Sultan was already at war with Egypt, having invaded Syria due to the deposition of his client Mu’yaidd Shaykh, vowing before his troops to water their horses on the Nile. None in Italy desired a new Achaemenid Empire, certainly not one ruled by a bellicose warlord; moreover, in addition to Shaykh’s deposition, Muhummad Sultan had justified his invasion in part because the Mamluks were themselves allegedly appealing to the west for an anti-Timurid alliance. Ladislao was already clashing with Timurid forces in Anatolia, occupying Bursa and Nikomedia and supporting the conquest of Ionia by a detachment of Burgundian knights in conjunction with the Genoese and Knights Hospitaller; Muhummad Sultan was greatly angered by these attacks, which targeted his nominal vassals in Ionia and directly threatened his standing as the premier defender of both the Turks and of Islam generally; his grandfather, it should not be forgotten, had made much hay of his destruction of Smyrna, occupied by the Knights Hospitaller and now once again in Christian hands. As the second decade of the 15th century closed, the two great empires of the eastern Mediterranean moved inexorably towards war.

    [1] Muhummad Sultan historically didn’t quite make it to Bursa in time and ended up dying of disease in Anatolia. Here, he succeeds in capturing the city and avoids his death.

    LOzX6V2.png
     
    Rough Family Tree circa 1418
  • So just to clarify the Kingdom of Thrace will be united with Visconti Italy the moment Ladislao becomes Italian Emperor, right?

    And if the Kingdom of Thrace joins Italy how long will it take for Genoa and Venice to fight Lombardy? And would the Orthodox Greeks revolt soon? I especially can't see the latter putting up with Latin occupation for long.

    And for people who think the Byzantines are officially conquered, there's still Trebizond.
    Genoa proper is a Visconti vassal, albeit one that acts somewhat autonomously; I marked their colonies separately for the same reason I marked Albania, Achaea, and Athens separately- they are in effect client states of Italy, but de facto have considerable leeway, especially overseas, not unlike Gascony vis a vis England.

    Ladislao Visconti is the fifth and youngest son of Azzone Visconti, who himself was the second son of Gian Galeazzo Visconti. I'll post a family tree after the next update, since it will become very relevant shortly, but from my notes there are three branches, with these living members as of this point in the timeline:

    The "Greens" of Lombardy:
    Gian Galeazzo II, (1366-1401), m. Sophia of Bavaria
    Matteo (1401-), Elector-King of Lombardy and Archduke of Milan, m. Catherine of Valois, princess of France
    [-> future issue]

    The "Blues" of Naples:
    Azzone Visconti, (136:cool:, Emperor, King, and Prince of Rome, also King of Sicily, Sardinia, and Corsica, and titular King of Jerusalem and Latin Emperor, m. Queen Joanna of Naples
    Carlo (1392-), m. Joan of Burgundy, Elector-King of Burgundy
    [-> issue]
    Giovanni, (1394-), [married to someone...?] (twins), Heir to Naples
    Galeazzo, (1394-), Prince of Taranto, [marriage?] (twins), heir to Sicily, Sardinia, and Corsica
    Louis (1396-), Duke of Spoleto, [marriage- probably a Colonna or other Umbrian/Roman family, set up to be next Prince of Rome]
    Ladislao, (1399-), King of Thrace and titular Prince of Albania & Achaea, m. a Komnenoi Princess as of the current update
    Bianca (1402-), m. Louis King of Hungary

    The "Golds" of Tuscany & Romagna:
    Carlo Maria (1371-1405), Duke of Tuscany, m. Margaret of Urgell, putative Princess of Aragon
    Galeazzo (1395-), Duke of Tuscany, [marriage?]
    Margaret (1398 [marriage?]
    Giacomo (1399-), Count of Siena [marriage?]
    Guido (1401-), Count of Bologna [marriage?]
    Isabella, [marriage?]

    Which reminds me, I should probably figure out who GG's grandkids ended up marrying- Azzone probably would have married his sons off to royalty (French or Iberian) or German houses of repute (specifically the Wettins, Wittelsbachs, Luxemburgs, or Habsburgs would be my guess)
     
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    Cursed Kings
  • Cursed Kings​

    On the Pavilion Field outside the fortress city of Calais, the azure and crimson banners of King Edward IV of England and the Dauphin Louis of France were raised together as friends and allies. Two decades prior, the Lord Regent Henry IV of Lancaster had seized Aquitaine for his line in an act of opportunistic greed, a transgression which inadvertently resolved the principal obstacle to a lasting peace settlement between France and England. The two men- brothers by marriage thanks to Edward’s queen Isabelle- were inclined for both practical and sentimental reasons to negotiate. In the first place, Charles- in a striking echo of his forefather King John II- wanted to join with England on a Crusade for the Holy Land. He also wanted to secure an English alliance against the overly powerful house of Burgundy, and potentially Aragon and Italy as well.

    The Dauphin had come of age in a time of political instability, little more than a pawn between the feuding Orleanist and Burgundian parties. He had initially favored reconciliation between the feuding factions, but with the destruction of the Armagnacs and the final triumph of Burgundy, his opinion of his overbearing father-in-law was quickly souring. John had forced a string of bitter policies on the French court. He had pressed through sweeping tax reforms eroding the court’s traditional largesse, allied the House of Valois with the House of Visconti, repurposed French power and wealth for his own ambitions in the Rhineland, and pawned much of the southern frontier to Lombardy and Aragon in return for an uneasy and unfavorable peace.

    These measures were by and large successful in stabilizing the kingdom and averting a looming military, political, and fiscal catastrophe, but they came at the price of shattering French pride and prestige, and weakening the power of the Crown. The Prince especially resented the pawning off of his patrimonial territories of Valentinois and Dauphinate. So long as John was in Paris, the teenaged prince was little more than a puppet, but John’s departure to Flanders and the Prince’s own maturation enabled him to finally emerge from John’s shadow and amass a following from malcontents in the city. He saw in his brother-in-law a chance to reassert both himself and France as major players in Europe and potentially regain the lost territories in the south and east. Charles’ ambition was a grand alliance between France, England, and the Luxemburgs of Germany, aimed squarely at the House of Burgundy and by extension both Italy and perhaps Spain. He recalled that a Luxemburg Emperor had died fighting for the French on the fields of Crecy, that Richard II had proposed a joint invasion of Lombardy, that the Anjou had ceded to the Crown their claims to Naples and Provence, that Aragon still owed homage for the territories of Montpelier and Narbonne in Languedoc.

    For his part, King Edward IV wanted to extricate himself from the continent on honorable and ideally profitable terms. Scotland- largely occupied by England- remained a bleeding ulcer, and Wales was still simmering even after the crushing of Glyndwyr's rebellion; the King’s wife was a Valois princess and neither the King nor his subjects had much appetite for costly foreign adventures. There remained the traditional difficulty of setting aside the English claim to the French throne. Having taken up that claim principally to provide justification for what was, legally speaking, a rebellion by a French duke against the French Crown, Edward III had tied his hands and those of his successors. A crown was not a horse, to be bartered at market, not if it meant tacitly becoming a traitor. Treason, of course, was never prosperous, and the nominal claim could certainly be set aside if the price was right. Edward’s red line was a strict disavowal of the Old Alliance, and French interference in the British Isles more generally; he also wanted the de jure annexation of the Channel Islands and Calais to be recognized. Beyond this, the King’s interests become somewhat harder to discern, and indeed they may not in the breach extended too far beyond the minimum requirements. Nevertheless, it was generally accepted that the old Duchy of Aquitaine should be restored to some semblance of its former glory, and that some accommodation regarding Flanders be made which acknowledged vital English interests in the County, and possibly this should extend also to Brittany. Flanders was legally still a part of the Kingdom of France, but had long ceased to act as a dutiful vassal where England was concerned. Flemish industry depended utterly on exports of English wool, and their coastline was far too vulnerable to attack; moreover, since the 1380s the County of Flanders was the crown jewel in the Burgundian Empire, and neither John nor his son Philip were inclined to take orders from Paris. It was suggested in England that Flanders (including possibly Artois, which was centuries ago part of the county) be de jure placed under the English King’s sovereignty, in return for the renunciation of his claim to the French throne and all assorted territory. This was the thrust of Edward’s proposal to the Dauphin, and in the main it seems to have been accepted. The Dauphin was quite ecstatic to secure an anti-Burgundian alliance and took the position that Flanders was lost to France regardless of whether it was English or Lotharingian. On the matters of the Papacy, Spain, and Italy Edward proved less receptive. Having ended one continental commitment, the King was not particularly enthusiastic to begin another costly military adventure with little prospect of territorial gains- the Dauphin refused to openly commit to supporting Lancastrian claims to the Castilian Throne, which was Edward's price for an anti-Aragonese alliance- and he was appalled at the notion of attacking the Italians while they were in the middle of a Holy Crusade. England, moreover, was still technically outside the Pope’s control, as while the English had sent delegations to the Council of Aachen they had not formally accepted the new Pope, Martin V.

    Traditional historiography considers the fall of Constantinople to be the beginning of the modern period, which has raised the ironic reality that the last and most successful Crusade for Jerusalem occurred after the end of the Middle Ages. Yet Europe had changed substantially: the medieval vision of a Universal Christian Monarchy, and a Universal Christian Church, were now falling by the wayside, abandoned in favor of delineated territorial states centered around the person of a king (or occasional queen). The Church, like the Empire, was a source of legitimacy, not authority per se. Insofar as appealing to traditional Medieval institutions served the state, the Visconti- like their peers- would make use of such archaic symbols. But this was nothing new- Gian Galeazzo Visconti had purchased investiture as Duke of Milan by pawning his daughter off on the Emperor. He had additionally won back the Imperial Vicariate of Italy, an honor stripped from his predecessors. He had literally stolen the Iron Crown of Lombardy. All these titles were legal fictions meant to justify, post facto, what was at heart an opportunistically expansionist urban dictatorship; the “Duke of Milan” was not, in the final analysis, a traditional feudal magnate, but a despot ruling from within a major city at the tacit behest of the burghers and communal oligarchs.

    Azzone Visconti had taken this dichotomy to greater extremes: destroying the Emperor and then stealing his throne; dissolving the three Bishop Electorates and handing them out to his supporters to secure his election; stripping both the Roman and Avignon Papacy of their remaining lands and powers in the name of protecting and renovating the Catholic Church. He and the other great powers of Europe had- over strenuous objections of the clergy- rehabilitated Marsilius of Padua, endorsing the Defensor Pacis. Published in 1324, it had extended the anticlerical ideas latent in Ghibelline caesaropapism and Dante’s Inferno to their logical conclusion- the state, not the church, was the guarantor of public peace, and therefore the Church should be divested of its land, property, and judicial authority in favor of civil magistrates. Seen in this light, the conquest of Jerusalem was, perhaps, less important to the Emperor than the enterprise itself; this, at least, is the revisionist view, albeit one that denigrates his own contemporary piety.

    Ultimately, the Field of Gold achieved nothing substantial, beyond a growing realignment of Anglo-French relations and a general if vague commitment of both powers to the Crusade. The Dauphin fell ill on his return to Paris, and passed away on September 1, 1418, at the age of twenty-one. He left behind him a mad father, a Burgundian widow, a young daughter, and an infant son, now the new Dauphin Louis of France. Dauphin became King Louis XI two years later at the tender age of three, sparking a new struggle over the regency which paralyzed France. The French Church did contribute substantially to the Crusade via a general tithe, and French soldiers filled out the armies of the Crusaders as they always did, but France herself was a spectator to events, still reeling from the horrific costs of the Black Death and the long war with England and bitterly divided by feuding aristocrats.[1]

    Henry of Aquitaine was the most actively hostile threat to French power in 1418, and he wielded his limited resources deftly to chip away at French power beneath the Loire. Duke Henry had refused to accept Charles as his sovereign, following the traditional Gascon party line that his true sovereign was the King of England. He additionally enjoyed firm support in Bordeaux, whose citizens feared the imposition of French taxation and the severing of the lucrative wine trade with London. Henry had rapidly insinuated himself into the region, negotiating a truce between the Foix loyalists now sworn to King Ferdinand of Aragon and the remnants of the Armagnac family, sorely pressed since the assassination of the Duke of Orleans and the defeat of the anti-Burgundian party the preceding decade. The latter family now favored Henry as the only man willing to sympathize with their ambitions and offer them protection and succor, and together they continued an endemic feud against both the agents of Charles of France and the agents of Ferdinand.

    The alignment of England and France fatally crippled Henry’s ability to maneuver freely. Ever pragmatic, he agreed finally to do homage to King Charles of France but attempted to extract territorial and political concessions as a prelude to his submission. Henry aligned himself with like-minded vassals, most notably the Dukes of Burgundy and Brittany, and began currying favor with the Estates of Languedoc, but again he was thwarted by events beyond his control. Joan of Navarre, the former regent for Brittany, married the Duke of Berry, a staunchly royalist Prince of France; the ruling Duke John V's marriage to a French princess had already signalled the Duchy's francophile and pacific tendencies, and John's involvement in Parisian politics secured Brittany's status as a highly autonomous province. More critically, John of Burgundy abandoned Henry and signed his own agreement with the King, gaining Picardy and certain tax privileges, as well as the formal cession of Flanders to The Kingdom of Lotharingia, a tacit renunciation by the French of the Dauphin’s negotiations with England the year prior; in return, John agreed to drop his pretensions to suzerainty over Holland, which was increasingly beyond John’s control due to the Wittelsbach Duke’s marriage ties to the House of Valois. John was therefore freed of the immediate threat of war and abdicated his throne to his son, taking up the penitent banner of a Crusader along with an army financed from his impressive domains. Henry would be forced to follow suit and surrender Gascony to his young heir, although he and his Gascon allies were able to retain control over Limousin.

    The Emperor was determined to make good on his pledge and invade the Holy Land, but he first needed to settle affairs in Europe. He secured a major dynastic and diplomatic coup in 1418 with the marriage of his nephew Galeazzo I the Duke of Tuscany to the Austrian countess Margaret, heiress to the Archduchy owing to the rapid winnowing of the ruling Habsburg line. The Habsburgs had gradually lost most of their patrimony over the preceding decades, but retained control over Austria proper, a wealthy and strategically located territory at the crossroads of Central Europe. The Habsburgs were one of the three “Imperial” dynasties which dominated Holy Roman politics, and the marriage further partially defused the threat of a resurgent Luxembourg invasion of Italy by creating a strategic salient on the Danube.

    Galeazzo’s marriage was part of a series of intricate diplomatic arrangements consolidating the state of affairs along Italy’s northeastern periphery. The Emperor divested himself of Carniola, which was under Lombard occupation since 1402, by formally enfeoffing it to the House of Gorizia; the Gorizians in turn parted with upper Styria, which was re-granted to Margaret as part of her dowry. The marriage immediately soured relations with the Hungarians and Bavaria, as both sought to enforce a mutual inheritance treaty between the three houses of Luxemburg, Wittelsbach, and Austria, but the opportunity to bind his dynasty to one of the three most royal families of Germany was too great for Azzone to ignore, especially with the possibility of creating a cadet Visconti line in southern Germany.

    Azzone Visconti took his formal vows in Monza Cathedral and departed Italy in 1419 by land, marching through the Veneto and Austria into the Danube basin. He and his army reached Budapest in May, where they came face to face with the King of Hungary. Now twenty-two years old, King Louis was a man, in the words of his contemporaries, more Catholic than the Pope, more stubborn than a live mule, and more disagreeable than a dead horse. The king had been heavily influenced by millenarian piety movements, and reputedly took to wearing a hair shirt and engaging in lengthy periods of fasting and self-flagellation; famously, Louis boasted on his deathbed that he had drank wine only during Communion. Yet he was also an energetic and intelligent king, who literally viewed his royal prerogatives as divinely ordained, and threw himself into government with the frighteningly single-minded zeal of a fanatic, devoting his life to grinding down the truculent Magyar nobility and creating Western Europe’s first autocratic monarchy since the fall of Rome.

    Louis’ initial meeting with Azzone was not particularly auspicious. He pointedly refused to bow, kneel, or offer any of the traditional gestures of symbolic submission granted an Emperor, instead greeting his nominal sovereign as an equal on horseback- a fairly serious breach of protocol given Azzone was legally his liege lord in Silesia and Moravia. He compounded this by demanding- in the presence of an infuriated Papal legate- that the Emperor sign a separate concordat prior to any discussions of their joint campaign against the Timurids; Louis had personally participated in the Second Macedonian Campaign against the Turks, and as far as he was concerned this had discharged his prior obligations as a Crusader and ally. To his credit the bemused Emperor largely acquiesced, and fraught negotiations secured a new alliance and commitment to the Crusade. Azzone and Louis reiterated the earlier agreements, Louis renouncing his claim to Dalmatia and Azzone acknowledging Louis as King of Hungary and Croatia. Louis further demanded and received Bulgaria, which was in a fairly uncertain situation following the collapse of the Ottoman Sultanate. Ladislao had made tentative efforts to ally himself with the Bulgars and was clearly angling to proclaim himself its king, but he had failed to account for his father’s ambitions or the interests of the Hungarians, which mattered far more to the Emperor than his son’s grasping territorial ambitions. Louis was promised control over Bulgaria- his occupation of Vidin in the northwest was at this point formally acknowledged- but he was forced to accede to Visconti control over Macedonia and Thrace, as well as the principalities of Kosovo and Zeta along the Adriatic.

    The Hungarian King finally pledged himself and his kingdom to the Crusade; the Italo-Hungarian alliance prepared, one final time, to march together under the banner of the Cross. Louis’ decision met with some opposition among his vassals, who despised the Italians. Sigismund had not perished alone- much of the Magyar nobility had perished in Croatia, and such slights were not easily forgotten. A tactful leader might have allayed these concerns; Louis trampled through them, seemingly delighting in unilaterally enforcing his royal will. He brusquely reminded the Magyars of their duty as nobles and Christians and reminded them that they had fought against the Turks alongside the Lombards; to embark upon a Crusade for Jerusalem was a solemn undertaking. Backed by the Emperor, the Pope, and his allies in Bohemia and Poland, Louis was able to force the issue, but his maladroit handling of the Magyars’ concerns highlighted a latent division within the Kingdom of St Stephen. Hungary’s aristocracy was not uniformly against the enterprise- Louis’ supporters came predominately from Transylvania, whose lords had largely been spared the bloodletting in Croatia and stood to gain the most from Hungary’s conquest of Wallachia and Bulgaria. He also enjoyed the backing of the Slavic populations of Moravia and the Carpathian piedmont, and the German “new lords” who had settled the southern frontier. Azzone and Louis arrived together at Constantinople on March 1, 1420, where the Emperor formally crowned his son Ladislao as King of Thrace and Macedonia; the Emperor received, for the third time, the crown of the Roman Emperor from the Ecumenical Patriarch in Constantinople. This coronation was both a reward and a tacit rebuke for the Emperor’s son- Ladislao may have taken Constantinople, but there was only one Emperor of the Romans, and he ruled from the elder Rome.

    Azzone’s treaty with Louis was part of a much broader scheme to involve the whole of Eastern Europe. Louis’ ally Jogaila of Poland was also the subject of potential alliance negotiations, but Jogaila was predominately focused on confronting the growing menace of Tatar raids along his southernmost frontier. In preceding years, Jogaila had secured control over Cetatea Alba, the White City, in Bessarabia, and in April 1414 he granted the Teutonic Order the rights to found a city along the Dnieper. Named Neu Marienburg, or Nowy Malbork, the settlement grew rapidly thanks to waves of German settlers, and was intended to form the nucleus of the reconstituted Order, a bulwark against Tatar raids from the east and a cornerstone of the Latin Church’s expansion into Taurica.[2] Polish encroachment in the Black Sea littoral, and Poland’s growing alignment with both Hungary and Lithuania, was anathema to the Genoese, who had succeeded in driving the Venetians from the Black Sea and were hardly inclined to welcome a new rival. The Black Sea would eventually complicate Italo-Polish relations in succeeding decades, but on paper the matter was left to lie fallow.

    Genoa was herself engaging with the Franco-Burgundian force under Duke Philip of Burgundy, who had arrived in Italy with a much larger contingent. As Azzone and Louis had already departed Italy, there remained the ultimate question of how Philip would involve himself in the Crusade. Genoa wanted to divert the Duke towards Antalya, occupied by the Karamanid Emirate. A valuable port city, the Genoese hoped control over Antalya would enable them to contest Venetian influence in Cyprus and the Eastern Mediterranean generally, as well as anchoring their own penetration of Ionia, which was rapidly becoming the newest Latin colony thanks to the efforts of Ladislao and his army. The Genoese also were in negotiations with both Trebizond and Georgia, Orthodox Christian kingdoms nominally tributaries of the Timurids but eying up the chance to break free and expand into the fragmented territories of Anatolia. Georgia had been decimated by Tamerlane in the 1380s, but since 1412 was entering into a brief revival under the skilled leadership of King Alexander I “the Great.” Georgia’s position in the mountains had enabled them to temporarily escape the Timurid boot, but by 1414 Alexander had been forced to submission. Now he wanted Latin assistance to cast aside the Timurids and was prepared to place his kingdom in union with the western Church and offer direct military support for a campaign in Anatolia. Genoese pressure was sufficient to divert Philip to Anatolia. The Burgundians landed in Anatolia and seized Antalya in April 1420, putting the city to a brutal sack. Thereafer, Philip joined his army with Ladislao and the Italo-Hungarian crusaders near Philadelphia, where the four men together determined to attack and besiege Ankara, a crucial city at the crossroads of Anatolia.

    Muhummad Sultan in the meantime had confronted and annihilated a Mamluk army near Aleppo in the Spring of 1419, inciting a revolt in Damascus, whose governor agreed to pledge fealty to the Emir. Rather than pressing further south, the Timurid Emir decided to split his forces and turned back for Anatolia. Although this decision has been criticized in retrospect, it seemed sensible at the time and contemporaries praised the Emir’s “pious” decision to prioritize confronting the Crusaders. The Mamluks were a spent force and their control over northern Syria all but moribund, but Timirid control over Anatolia was unstable and dangerously threatened by an active Latin presence. As the putative “Sword of Islam” it was the Emir’s ostensible duty to meet the Crusaders in battle, and only the Emir himself could rally his fractious Turkish vassals to meet the threat. The Emir’s army struck north and fell upon the forces of Trebizond, crushing them; the Georgians managed to withdraw, but only due to the sacrifice of a rearguard, including one of the king’s sons who was captured by the Emir. He then declared his intention to drive the Christians back across the Bosphorus and “paint the Aegean red” as his grandfather had done at Smyrna. The Latins broke their siege but were cornered near Bursa, along the banks of the Bosphorus.

    Medieval chroniclers tended to exaggerate numbers for dramatic effect, and a decisive confrontation between a Crusade led by an Emperor and a King and the greatest Muslim power in the world was inherently fraught with religious significance. It is likely that the Timurids had at least thirty thousand and probably closer to forty thousand, most of these being drawn from the Turkish beyliks. The Latin force was undeniably smaller- the Hungarians are consistently given at numbering twelve thousand, “matching” the Imperial contingent, but it is less clear whether the latter consisted exclusively of Lombards or also the “mercenaries” the Emperor had bolstered his forces with, and the Burgundian forces are also somewhat uncertain, as Philip had left much of his infantry behind to garrison his conquests in Antalya and the Ionian Coast. The Christians was therefore likely between twenty-five and thirty thousand. The two armies in theory were “led” by Azzone Visconti and Emir Muhummad Sultan, respectively, but both armies were in practice coalitions held together by fragile bonds of religion, custom, and common interest. Critically, Emir Muhummad’s soldiers were tired, having rushed west after their victory over the Greeks to relieve the siege of Ankara, while the Latins were well provisioned and entrenched behind their fortifications. There were those within the army who were inclined to withdraw further west, but Azzone- perhaps fearing that avoiding battle would erode his standing with the Hungarians- pressed for a confrontation. Louis of Hungary had chastened the Emperor for wishing to negotiate; the Timurids were heathens who had slaughtered the Knights Hospitaller at Smyrna, and to retreat would be a mark of dishonor.

    Per Louis’ demand, the Hungarians were concentrated on the right flank, anchoring the Lombard line. The Latins initially hoped for the Timurids to engage them, but the Turks refused to charge their fortified positions. Azzone then ordered his archers forward down the hill, uprooting their stakes and repositioning at the extreme end of their range and began firing on the Turks. This succeeded in provoking a general charge by the Karamanid contingent, which was hastily followed by the remainder of the Timurid cavalry. The Timurid charge was funneled into the waiting Lombard lines and slaughtered, attacked on three sides by the infantry and dismounted cavalry. A final charge by the Hungarians succeeded in breaking their lines. In the chaos of battle, Emir Muhummad himself was slain along with many of his subordinates; many more fled, the Turks largely abandoning the fight.

    The Timurid defeat quickly led Alexander of Georgia to revive his schemes. Returning to Tlibisi, he drove out the Timurid garrison and reclaimed his throne, embarking on a successful campaign into Van province in southeastern Anatolia. The Latins meanwhile were intent on pressing east and into Syria. The Emir of Karaman yielded after his capital Konya was taken by assault, and agreed to convert to Latin Christianity and swear allegiance to the Emperor. The Latins then entered into Cilicia and crushed the Dulkadir Beylik, re-establishing the Armenian Kingdom of Cilicia. The Timurid Empire itself recoiled from Anatolia, but- after a brief period of fratricidal civil war- eventually would be governed by Shah Rukh, who stabilized the Empire for another generation, albeit at the cost of its western provinces. Timurid control over Anatolia, Syria, and Mesopotamia was irrevocably ended, and the provinces left to the tender mercies of the Christians.

    Azzone himself did not see his conquests through to conclusion. He had taken ill after accepting Konya’s submission and by the time the Latins entered Cilicia it was clear that he was dying. On his deathbed, he exhorted both his Italians and King Louis to seek a treaty “alike to what the Sicilian Emperor [Frederick II] achieved”; this meant the symbolic concession of the Holy City itself and a strip of territory connecting it to the coast.
    Azzone styled himself in the manner of Charlemagne, but the denouement of his career more closely resembled Alexander. He died too soon, while his empire was still unfinished; his death led to the disintegration of both his broad international alliance and ultimately empire. He had too many sons, too proud and too hungry for territory. Worse yet, his ascent exacerbated the dilemma of 1380, when Gian Galeazzo had usurped and murdered his uncle Bernabo. Gian Galeazzo usurped his uncle and nephews, destroying the elder branch of the Visconti. Azzone, like his father, also superseded his brother’s sons, but he did not destroy the families, in part because he was not politically strong enough to do so, and perhaps in part because he recognized the importance of transitioning into a “respectable” royal dynasty. The fundamental dilemma was that the de facto leader of the dynasty was from a cadet branch. Gian Galeazzo had slaughtered as many of Bernabo’s children as he could, but he failed to annihilate them all; Azzone left his brother’s children with their lives and lands intact.

    Later historians adopted a harsher view of Azzone Visconti than his immediate successors. His “foreign expeditions” have been viewed, not without reason, as a frivolous waste of blood and treasure. Yet they were little different in principle than his father’s impulse to conquer much of Imperial Italy, for in Early Modern Europe a state must expand or perish. The Visconti girded themselves in the cloak of chivalric virtue and royal dignity, posturing as the loyal lieutenants of Popes and Emperors; but in the end Gian Galeazzo received the Iron Crown not from his Imperial son-in-law, but by the acclamation of a Senate of Lombard nobility and urban bourgeoisie. Republicanism was deeply rooted in Italy; so too was the populist demagogue. The heirs of Gian Galeazzo and Azzone emulated both men, to varying success, but they also- from necessity- leaned far more heavily upon the urban oligarchs, who in the 15th century came into the full bloom of their power. None of this was immediately obvious in the wake of his death; the institutions of state carried on, and the Crusade was not finished.

    Louis of Hungary took the late Emperor’s advice and secured a truce with the Mamluks, allowing him to depart with honor. This move greatly angered Philip of Burgundy and the Papal legate, both of whom sought to press onward to Jerusalem. Philip wanted to disregard the late Emperor’s instructions to negotiate and take Jerusalem by force, probably with the ultimate goal of making himself its King. Louis, by contrast, was determined to wash his hands of the enterprise and extricate himself with as much glory and plunder as he could gain in the process, and viewed the Emperor’s instructions as the most plausible way of reclaiming the Holy City. Indeed, Louis was in negotiation with the Mamluks and would ultimately succeed in gaining a treaty along those lines; Jerusalem was ceded to the Latins for ten years, and a truce between them supposedly in place, but the Mamluks no longer had any authority in the Levant and it was uncertain if they could offer even nominal control over the city. Louis nevertheless had gained enough to wash his hands of the Holy Land. He departed, leaving only a small detachment of Hungarians behind to hold Aleppo. The King of Hungary invaded and destroyed the Beylik of Candar and conquered Sinope on his return home, proclaiming himself King of Pontus, heir to the Mithridatic Kings who had defied Rome in the days of Sulla and Marius. The remainder of the Crusaders, under Philip of Burgundy and Ladislao of Thrace, completed the conquest of Syria on their own, but the last and greatest of the Crusader Kings arrived nearly a year after Azzone Visconti’s death. On May 14, 1421, the thirty-three-year-old Henry of Aquitaine landed in Cyprus with an army of 16,000 men.

    [1]Although the French have “won” the Hundred Years’ War a few decades earlier, their victory raises new problems- most obviously, the survival of a powerful and semi-autonomous Aquitaine and a greatly emboldened Burgundy- and it will be some time before France is able to fully restore herself from the nadir of the latter 14th Century.

    [2]This settlement is at the OTL Kherson, on the banks of the Dnieper. It seems like a probable place for the Teutonic Order to relocate, given “encouragement” from a Poland that would rather the Order serve as a useful buffer against the Tatars.
     
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    A House Divided
  • A House Divided
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    Azzone Visconti’s death triggered a series of dynastic successions, most critically obliging the Prince Electors of the Holy Roman Empire to assemble and nominate his successor; the vestigial strength of the late Emperor’s influence over Europe would soon be tested. Italy itself had settled into a comfortable stability during his tenure as Emperor, but its political situation retained a textural parochialism from the latent divisions still lingering after the Visconti conquests.

    Like Gaul, pre-Roman “Italy” was divided into three parts: a Padanian north entangled with transmontane Gallic cultures, a fading Etruscan center eventually supplanted by Rome, and a Mediterranean-focused “Magna Graecia” in the south, complicated by Punic influences and colonies in Sicily and Sardinia and the descendants of migratory Illyrians which crossed the Adriatic and settled in Apulia.

    This ancient partition eventually re-emerged after the fall of the Western Roman Empire and the destruction wrought by Justinian’s war with the Goths: the Lombard Kingdom in the north, the Papal Patrimonium in the center, and the Sicilian Kingdom amalgamating Lombard, Greek, and Arab territories in the south; this medieval division in turn bequeathed to the three sons of Gian Galeazzo Visconti their respective patrimonies. The “Blue Vipers” between them controlled nearly two-thirds of the Italian peninsula, much of the southern Dinarics[1], as well as Provence and Burgundy. Had Azzone’s progeny avoided feuding among themselves, they may have maintained a semblance of their father’s hegemony; it was, after all, dynastic unity, far more than patriarchal authority and personal talent, which had allowed Gian Galeazzo and Azzone Visconti to wield such disproportionate influence on the international arena.

    The nominal head of the entire family, and the heart of its domains, was the Kingdom of Lombardy, centered on the wealthy Po Valley, ruled by the eldest “Green” branch of the Visconti dynasty. By 1422, King Matteo’s territories encompassed little more than his father’s Duchy of Lombardy, bordered in the east by Venetian Terrafirma along the Adda River and in the west by the Piedmontese possessions of the Savoy, to the south by the mountains of Genoa and the north by the Swiss Alps; Genoa had initially sworn obedience to the Duke of Milan, but Azzone had stolen the city’s loyalty and Matteo could not in 1422 consider it his- a major source of friction between the dynasties, given the city’s obvious importance to Milan as its principal outlet to the Mediterranean. Nominally, King Matteo I was the suzerain of his cousins- the Duke of Tuscany and the Counts of Siena and Bologna- as well as the Emilia-Romagna princes, but in practice the Lombard Greens and Tuscan Golds were closer to allies, and the King had little independent authority below the Po, let alone the Apennines.

    Matteo’s great advantage was that he shared his power with no man: he alone of his cousins had no siblings with which to share his inheritance, and his domain was moreover the oldest, richest, and most centralized Visconti patrimony in Italy; also unique among his cousins, he had but a single living child with his French wife Catherine of Valois, the two-year-old Count of Pavia Gian Galeazzo III. Minor lordships sworn to the Lombard King- as Mantua and Ferrara in the east, and Saluzzo and Montferrat in the west, being the largest and most significant- somewhat complicated the picture of an entirely bureaucratic and urban “early modern” state, as these petty lords could and did exert their privileges as feudal vassals, but the bulk of the territory was directly administered from the robust royal bureaucracy established by Gian Galeazzo Visconti in Pavia at the close of the 14th century.

    The Lombard administration was the heart of royal power, and within the King’s dominions his rule was in theory absolute. A series of royal podestas administered the Padanian cities on the King’s behalf and efficiently extracted considerable tax revenue from one of the richest dominions in Europe, while also administering justice in the King’s name; after nearly half a century, Visconti rule was a firmly established fact in these cities. Pavia was the center of a truly impressive state bureaucracy, fueling its rise to prominence as one of Italy’s leading cities and a major hub of international diplomacy.

    The reconstitution of a Lombard “Senate” had not altered this essential fact, as Gian Galeazzo had deliberately excluded representatives from his subject cities, speaking in their name as their “freely elected” Grand Signore. Only Milan was able to wrest a degree of circumspection from the King’s ministers, such as a formal dedication ceremony upon a new monarch, but even Milan was still directly subject to the King’s administrators; its mayor was specifically appointed by the King and in times of peace acted as the King’s viceroy in the city, overseeing the Council of Extraordinary Affairs established by Gian Galeazzo in Milan. This body served effectively as the royal administrative body in matters relating to war and other national emergencies. Its authority notably expanded by Matteo’s reign to include the security and maintenance of the roads and canals in Lombardy and the organization and maintenance of all urban fortresses and militias outside of Pavia, an innovation which the Milanese had lobbied successfully as a means of exerting their dominance over their Duke’s territories, but which was already causing considerable unrest in the provincial cities.

    To the south, the youngest “Gold” branch of the Visconti Dynasty ruled the rich yet fractious lands of Tuscany and parts of the Emilia and Marche. Cradle of the ancient Etruscan civilization, sheltered by the Apennines and well situated to exploit trade between the north and the south as well as the Thyrennian, the fertile valleys of the Arno cultivated many cities and seigneurial lords since pre-Roman times. The Margraves of Tuscany were traditional threats to royal power in Italy; the greatest of the medieval magnates, the Countess Matilda, had humbled the Holy Roman Emperor in his great struggle with the Papacy. In 1422, the eldest of the Tuscan Visconti was of an age with his nominal sovereign, the twenty-seven-year-old Duke Galeazzo of Tuscany. His younger brothers Giacomo and Guido, twenty-three and twenty-one respectively, ruled Siena and Bologna as counts nominally subject to the King of Lombardy, but like their elder brother enjoyed considerable independence.

    Carlo Maria, the youngest of Gian Galeazzo’s three children, had been murdered by an urban conspiracy shortly after his father’s death. He left behind a Catalan widow, the Princess Margaret of Urgell, scion of the Barcelona dynasty and claimant to the throne of Aragon; Margaret and her husband had five living children, the three sons who divided their father’s inheritance and two daughters, both married. The Dowager Duchess had never forgiven the demise of her brother Peter II, putative King of Aragon, at the hands of the Trastamara Dynasty, even as her Italian in-laws secured peace with Aragon through marriages and treaties; her younger sons were named for her father and brother, and all her children were exhorted never to forget their royal lineage and true birthright in the west.

    The eldest son, Galeazzo the Duke of Tuscany, stood to inherit Austria thanks to his marriage to Margaret of Austria, but that inheritance would likely require fending off the claims of the Hungarians and Bavarians, as both asserted their own claims to the Habsburg inheritance. The middle brother Giacomo the Count of Siena had married Caterina Appiani, the Countess of Piombino and nephew of the Colonna Pope Martin IV. Caterina’s marriage gave Giacomo the rights to her father’s County of Piombino, a rich port and industrial center along the Sienese coast about 150 miles from Rome, and brought him into alignment with the powerful Colonna family, which undergirded the Roman Principality ruled by his cousin Louis I. Louis was prince, but he was very much a Roman princeps, first among equals, and utterly dependent upon his powerful Colonna in-laws for the governance of his state. He too had married a niece of Pope Martin, taking Anna Colonna as his bride. His territorial endowment consisted of the Duchy of Spoleto and his rule depended on the frank nepotism of Pope Martin towards his Colonna relatives, who were by marriage now also relations of the Prince.

    The Colonna’s great rivals were the Orsini Family, which had lost considerable estates and influence in Rome but gained substantial lands in the Kingdom of Naples. The great Raimondo Orsini del Balzo had been one of the earliest and most important supporters of Joanna II and her Visconti husband, a shrewdly opportunistic decision which earned him the Principality of Taranto and a pair of royal marriages. Naples was still ruled by Joanna II of Naples, Azzone’s widow and the last of the Capetian Anjou. Her kingdom had been partitioned for a century, Sicily lost to the Catalans after the Sicilian Vespers; Azzone had conquered the island and ruled it as a king, and he bequeathed the island to Giovanni the Prince of Amalfi and heir to Naples, allowing him to rule as a King in his own right before formally reunifying the old Sicilian Kingdom of the Hautevilles. Giovanni had married Caterina Orsini, daughter of the Prince of Taranto, while his sister Valentina was married to the new Prince of Taranto Giovanni Antonio (1386-), securing that family’s loyalty but also ensuring the Orsini would remain dominant territorial magnates in Apulia and a factor that could not easily be ignored at court in Naples.

    Off the coast of Italy, the islands of Sardinia and Corsica were reunited under King Galeazzo I, additionally the Doge of Genoa. Galeazzo’s marriage to the Aragonese princess was part of the broader reconciliation of those two kingdoms, with Aragon ceding its remaining claims to the Italian territories in southern Italy.

    Complicating the Neapolitan succession was the unsettled question of the old Angevin claims to the Adriatic littoral of Greece and the Latin Empire which Azzone had claimed for himself and bequeathed to Giovanni. Azzone’s youngest son Ladislao was by right of conquest the King of Thrace and ruled much of northern Greece and Asia Minor alongside his Byzantine princess, the beautiful Helena Palaiologos of Morea. Greece was in practice divided between Ladislao and the Venetians, who ruled Albania and the Peloponnese, but the issue of homage owed to the Latin Emperor remained a difficult problem and a growing source of tension.

    The broader issue of the Schism and the Neapolitan succession had spurred Italian involvement west into the lands on the far side of the Alps, lands like Italy which were a “shadow kingdom” nominally part of the Holy Roman Empire: The Imperial Kingdom of Burgundy, known colloquially as the Kingdom of Arles to distinguish it from the Valois-Burgundy to its north. Just as his father Gian Galeazzo felt himself compelled to seize the Iron Crown of Italy, both necessity and opportunity compelled Azzone to reconstitute this Kingdom of Arles into a new hereditary electorate for his dynasty and thereby forestall Angevin (or Valois) claims to Provence, Sicily, and Naples and consolidate his domination of the strategically critical County of Savoy from both directions. Upon securing the transfer of the city of Lyons from France, Azzone Visconti had determined to make it a crown jewel in his burgeoning empire. His father had made a habit of securing “election” upon the conquest of a new city, and Azzone aped the process with his own magnificent “Joyous Entry” into Lyons. As part of the formal establishment of Visconti government in the region, which included a formal coronation in Aix as King of Burgundy, Lyons’ council formally dedicated their city to Azzone Visconti as both king and “Podesta” of the Rhone territories. The Emperor, in turn, swept away the hated gabelle and taille taxation- which had caused so much immiseration- and extended further tax privileges in return for vague promises of support for his eastern ambitions.

    Carlo Visconti, upon receiving enfeoffment of the Kingdom from his father, deigned to give a new and more extensive dedication to Lyons and the Kingdom generally, probably modeled after the charters granted to the Flemish cities by their counts and the many contemporary examples of collegial government. Carlo likely determined that the best method of establishing his rule in the “shadow kingdom” of Imperial Burgundy was through formal ceremony combined with an aristocratic corporate assembly of the major notables in the region. The old comital capital of Aix-en-Provence became his seat, where he convened a provincial assembly including the nobility of both the County and the Dauphinate; the cities of Lyons, Marseilles, and Toulon further gained the right of representation, sitting collectively in one bench analogously to the Imperial cities within the German diet.

    Having effectively ceased to exist as a political entity in the 11th Century, Burgundy was- like Italy- principally an honorary title held by the Holy Roman Emperor before the Visconti conquests reconstituted the two kingdoms as hereditary electorates; in practice, as in Italy, this absence of a local sovereign had meant territorial fragmentation. Carlo held all the major estates of his kingdom save Savoy in personal union- the County of Provence, the Dauphinate, the County of Valentinois, and the County of Lyonnais- but in practice he did not have much ability to exercise this power on his own resources, which could not establish a bureaucratic state in the vein of his grandfather Gian Galeazzo’s efforts in Lombardy; paradoxically, the lack of pre-existing great magnates eroded royal power, by denying the King a traditional basis of government. Indeed, Carlo’s reign saw an influx of Italian nobles and a proliferation of new counts and lords, precisely to ballast the Visconti regime.

    Royal weakness likely exacerbated Carlo’s fears of revanchist encroachment by either France or Burgundy; reinforcing his sovereignty through ceremonial oaths of homage and a deliberative assembly therefore served both as a method of offloading responsibility for administering and collecting taxes, on the one hand, but also forestalling any French revanchism on the other, by ginning up a separate and distinct regional identity bound to a revived Provencal-Burgundian monarchy. Regardless of his intention, Carlo’s actions incited a local political reawakening, definitively shifting the kingdom out of France’s orbit. A century of Capetian hegemony was forgotten within a generation. Lyons especially saw its longstanding ties with Italian commerce enhanced, the city’s vibrant silk industry benefiting from access to Italian bankers and merchants, while Marseilles would gain in power thanks to the opportunities opened by Italian hegemony in the Western Mediterranean, although the city would eventually come into conflict with Genoa.

    Possession of Imperial Burgundy critically gave the Visconti a second Electoral vote, vital to counter the machinations of King Louis of Hungary. Carlo entered the College with two votes to succeed his late father as Emperor- his own, and that of his brother-in-law, King Philip of Lotharingia. He mistakenly presumed that a third, that of his first cousin Matteo of Lombardy, would also be his, but Matteo was not inclined to kowtow before what was, after all, the younger cadet line, and he initially declared his own candidacy, reasoning that as Italy was divided in half, so should be the Roman Empire; in this, he was encouraged by his brothers-in-law, Duke Ernest of Bavaria and William of the Palatinate.

    Louis of Hungary had to additionally face the machinations of his cousin. Charles, the much-beleaguered King of Bohemia, pledged his own vote and that of his brother-in-law- the Wettin duke of Saxony- towards his own candidacy. It is possible that Charles merely wished to wrest territorial concessions from Louis- the return of Moravia and Silesia, and further guarantees against Louis’ meddling in Bohemia, but Charles discounted the obstreperousness of his cousin, who cast the seventh vote for himself as Margrave of Brandenburg and flatly refused to negotiate with either Charles or the Wittelsbachs, viewing both as upstart traitors. As in 1412, the Luxemburg dynasty was hamstrung by internal bickering, but Louis compounded his difficulties through his own stubbornness and arrogance, and the lingering tensions due to the tectonic shifts in Imperial politics in the preceding decades.

    The issue of the Duchy of Luxemburg highlights the complex web of dynastic and political threads predominating German politics, a web which Louis was singularly incapable of unraveling. Emperor Wenceslaus of Bohemia had owned the duchy, but after his deposition it was contested as part of the broader Luxembourg inheritance. Jobst of Moravia had claimed it, as had Sigismund of Hungary, and the former pawned it as collateral for a loan to raise funds for his wars, which eventually caused it to pass into the control of first Louis of Orleans and then- after Louis’ assassination- the Burgundian Duke Anthony of Brabant. Sigismund and his heirs had never accepted the legality of this transfer, nor had they accepted Azzone’s formal enfeoffment of the duchy to the Burgundians, asserting their own rights as heirs to the Luxembourg line. Louis of Hungary also insinuated against the rights of Anthony in Brabant itself, because Anthony claimed the territory through his wife, contrary to Luxembourg interests in the area.

    As part of his electoral bid, Louis was willing to concede both issues formally, but only upon Burgundian support for his candidacy and a possible cash indemnity. To Louis’ sanctimoniously legalistic mindset, this made sense- he had indisputable rights, vestigial as they were, vis a vis his family patrimony, and the Burgundians were upstart usurpers who had stolen the territory from their French cousin, who himself never had any real right to the territory in the first place. But the hour had long past for the Luxemburgs to extract concessions from Burgundy or Italy in their respective domains; both dynasties were now adamant upon the full enjoyment of their royal titles as necessary to resist just such revisionism, and the distant Hungarian sovereign was to Philip’s mind an absent king offering nothing he did not already possess by right of conquest and inheritance.

    Azzone had intended that Giovanni would trade Austria for Croatia upon receiving his wife’s inheritance, but Carlo felt no obligation to continue his father’s schemes and suggested honoring the pre-existing inheritance treaty between the Luxemburg and Habsburg dynasties and awarding Austria to Sigismund in return for his vote. Sigismund flatly refused this offer, insisting that his rights to Austria could not be negated by an opportunistic marriage; he further demanded that the Emperor acknowledge his rights to Silesia and Moravia, while Carlo insisted contrarily that at least Moravia should be returned to Charles of Bohemia. The two men were unable to come to an agreement.

    Carlo was nevertheless ultimately able to win over his cousin Matteo by offering him the county of Nice, a territory traditionally disputed between the Piedmontese Savoy and the Counts of Provence and now coveted by Matteo as an outlet on the Mediterranean; Matteo changed his vote, and Ernest of Bavaria followed, being so laden with gold and other “gifts” that he reputedly “cleaned out the city of Aachen” of mules and other beasts of burden upon departing the assembly, as much a conspicuous display of wealth as a necessity for departing the city with his entourage. Charles of Bohemia proved more accommodating than Louis of Hungary and rallied behind the Visconti, but he demanded a price: the hand of the four-year-old Princess Valentina of Arles for his own son Wenceslaus, and secret assurances of support against his cousin Louis.

    Carlo was elected and consecrated Holy Roman Emperor, but the tactical détente between Hungary and Italy was now a dead letter. While Carlo and his dynasty were as-yet untouchable to Louis, the hapless Charles of Bohemia was not so fortunate, and he and his kingdom would pay dearly for their “treachery” in the coming years. Bohemia’s beleaguered king sought a protector who could support him against a daunting Polish-Hungarian axis, but he arguably backed the wrong horse- Carlo himself could offer little direct support so far afield from Italy, and by itself the vague legal authority of the Imperial office was poor protection for a man openly despised by his two most powerful neighbors. The death of Charles’ infant son and heir in 1422, mere months after his betrothal to an imperial princess, augured poorly for Charles’ future prospects.

    Emperor Carlo Visconti’s brief but fruitful reign was dominated by growing international tensions and continued Lombard involvement in the ongoing Crusade. His greatest achievement was to mediate a peace between feuding factions in France, trading on his wife’s Burgundian heritage and his sister’s marriage into the younger House of Valois-Orleans. The Dauphin Louis of Guyenne’s death, and the subsequent death of his father the King, left the crown on the head of a toddler- King Louis XI, four years old at the time of Emperor Carlo’s accession. A regency for the young King included his mother, the Dowager Queen Margaret of Burgundy, the King’s cousin Duke John II of Berry, and his uncles Duke John of Touraine and Duke Charles of Orleans.[2] Charles had eventually received the Duchy of Orleans after it reverted to the royal line with the violent murder of Duke Louis by the Burgundians a decade prior, and found himself- for his own reasons- reviving the anti-Burgundian cause along with the name of Orleans.

    The Burgundian party stood for curtailing “excess” and an uneasy alliance with the urban centers of Northern France, a policy that necessarily meant attenuating the rich subsidies and grants traditionally awarded to the King’s relations and favorites. John of Burgundy had exploited his triumph in arms to sweep Paris and the royal government of former Armagnac-Orleans partisans; but power was a zero-sum game, and the ascension of Burgundy necessarily curtailed the possibilities available to other princes. There were other difficulties of course- principally, the inevitable reduction of wartime taxation owing to continued peaceful relations with England, a policy long demanded by the weary French public; this further squeezed the aristocratic hangers-on, heightening the struggle for power in the capital. Less obvious, but more potent, was the growing detachment of the Valois-Burgundy from France and the consolidation of Lotharingia as a distinctly independent state on France’s eastern frontier. The new King of Lorraine, Philip of Burgundy, was a very different man than his father. Whereas John the Fearless was a French prince first and foremost, Philip was born and raised in Antwerp, a native Fleming in culture, dress, and language; whereas John was a paranoid and scheming politician, Philip was an urbane and sophisticated statesman; whereas John was fiscally prudent and administratively sound, Philip was profligate and pacific, a natural diplomat and refined patron of the arts. His reign entrenched the Burgundian court at Antwerp as one of the most vivacious and vital centers of European politics and culture, but by necessity Philip was further saddled with maintaining a careful watch on Paris and could not afford to break ties completely.

    Above all else Philip hoped to assert his control over the County of Holland- a matter which inevitably brought him into further conflict with John of Touraine. Count William II had no surviving sons, and his daughter Jacqueline of Hainaut was John of Touraine’s wife. Opposing her rights were the Valois-Burgundy, the Bavarian Wittelsbachs, and the Luxemburg Dynasty, all backing William’s younger brother John III, the Count of Liege, a Burgundian vassal. John had mediatized his prince bishopric in alliance with his brother-in-law John of Burgundy and taken a bastard daughter of Duke Anthony of Brabant as his wife. John’s sister’s marriage further made him Philip of Lotharingia’s uncle as well as his vassal, and Philip was naturally inclined to support John’s claim, in return for Holland being legally incorporated into his kingdom. Hainaut loyally pledged itself to Jacqueline and her French husband, but Holland was divided, the aristocracy supporting Jacqueline and the urban interests supporting John of Liege.

    Into the breach stepped the newly crowned Emperor. From the beginning, Carlo had kept a close ear to France. The Rhone valley had endured raids originating from Auvergne- twice in the 1370s a great host had attempted to pillage Avignon. Much of Carlo’s early reign had consisted of supporting the French pacification of Auvergne and further patrols to secure the Rhone valley, and he had occupied the county of Forez after the death of the Duchess Jean, putting him in conflict with the Bourbon Dynasty. Carlo acted in close concert with his brother-in-law Philip of Burgundy, and this cooperation continued after his crowning; Carlo strongly favored John II’s rights in Holland, although he also insisted upon giving satisfactory terms to the Orleans if possible. Carlo’s initial compromise proposal- a partition of the territory- was acceptable to Philip solely on the acknowledgement of Hainaut as a Lotharingian fiefdom lacking imperial immediacy. The Emperor was willing to accept this but Jacqueline was not, and her partisans argued strenuously in the imperial courts, while in Paris John was able to force his way onto the Regency Council over the opposition of the Burgundian Party and threaten both the Emperor and the Burgundians with war.[3]

    To resolve the crisis, Carlo suggested that Philip should offer the County of Nevers- which had reverted to the main Burgundian line in 1419 with the childless death of Count Philip II- as compensation for Holland and Hainaut.[4]. Philip was to be awarded Picardy and Boulogne. To apply further pressure, Carlo sought rapprochement with England and the Duchy of Aquitaine. Notwithstanding his French bride, Edward IV had seen his position on the continent steadily deteriorate. His cousin, Duke Thomas of Lancaster, was the regent for Henry of Aquitaine’s son and heir, a grandson of Azzone Visconti through his mother Bianca.

    Lacking in major allies other than the unreliable French relations of his wife, Edward was naturally sympathetic to Carlo’s envoys. England was ready to be wooed back into the fold of Catholicism, such as it was, a task which required tactful statesmanship from the Papal Curia and the English sovereign. Fortunately, Martin V was up to the challenge, even if Edward was less than ideal, and the English clergy and laity both were inclined towards settling their disputes amicably and expediently. A Papal Bull effectively punted the question of Papal succession by which the English had effectively seceded from the Church- for Pope Martin was not willing to permit a forcible vacancy to permit an open breach with the broader Church, even after the Councils had endorsed said depositions and the general expropriation of church lands generally. The English were themselves ambivalent, but willing to accept the orthodox line established at the Council of Pavia by which the two popes deposed by Azzone Visconti were in fact lawfully and “properly” deposed, even if the precise justifications were never uniformly adopted for lack of general agreement beyond a vague sense that the Church had become too “worldly” and thereby corrupted and debased itself. England gained the use of the vernacular alongside Latin for her Church liturgies- a concession already grudgingly granted to the Bohemian Church- and the English King gained intrusive rights vis a vis monastic and other clerical property in England.

    Anglo-Italian relations had been dominated by the mediate relations between Aquitaine and Italy, specifically Carlo Visconti’s close working alliance with first Henry of Aquitaine and then Henry’s brother John the Duke of Bedford, the uncle of Henry’s son and successor, who commanded the government in Bordeaux following Henry’s departure on Crusade. Henry had abdicated Aquitaine to his eldest son by Bianca of Naples, and the young Duke now was the possessor of most of the territories England had once thought to rule under the Treaty of Bretigny, albeit formally subject to French rule which in practice amounted to very little. Actual power rested with his uncle, under whom Gascony took on the semi-regal governance it had acquired during the tenure of the Black Prince Edward half a century prior; Gascony’s territorial authority was perhaps not as broad as the formal list of titles would suggest, though that was beginning to change. Bedford was an accomplished administrator and shrewd politician, and he did much to entrench Lancastrian control over the Bordelais and its neighboring provinces. He focused on expanding his influence into the eastern fringe of Languedoc, territories such as Cahors and Rodez, as well as the counties of Albret and Armagnac bordering the former Foix provinces north of the Pyrenees which were inherited by the Crown of Aragon, making his peace with the Duke of Berry, who ruled Poitou in the north, and the citizens of La Rochelle on the Atlantic coast.

    During his relatively brief tenure, Henry succeeded in conquering the Agenais and Angouleme and much of southern Saintonge, but he had failed to come to a definitive reckoning with the powerful Armagnac clan or the house of Bourbon, both traditionally powerful in the region; his alliances with first Aragon and then Italy and Burgundy had not led to his anticipated triumph, and Henry’s own departure forestalled plans for a more decisive military reckoning. The situation had nevertheless changed irrevocably with the creation of a powerful semi-autonomous Gascon duchy and the increased involvement of Italy and Aragon, and John was determined to press his advantage. He was certainly aided by the generational changing of the guard which swept the region in the preceding decade- the deaths of the old Count of Armagnac, Duke of Berry, Duke of Bourbon, and Duke of Auvergne opened new opportunities, as their successors were impetuous and largely unimpressive youths lacking their fathers’ military virtues or political gravitas.

    Under pressure from his allies and the continuing difficulties on his eastern and southern borders, Philip finally agreed to buy off John of Touraine with the Counties of Nevers and Auxerre, which had reverted back to the main Burgundian line with the death of the last Count. Touraine’s defection split the Royal princes and ensured that the lords of Bourbon and Armagnac would enjoy no support from the central government in Paris.

    To outflank the Bourbon-Armagnac alliance, John of Bedford quickly insinuated himself into Languedoc by promulgating an edict affirming the assembly of the provincial estates general and denouncing the harsh taxation which the absentee Duke of Berry’s agents still collected on his behalf. The leading city of the region, Toulouse, had been inspired by Narbonne, which under Aragonese rule rapidly gained the character of a self-governing city-state, and pressed for further devolution of royal authority to the city government. John’s efforts fell on fruitful soil and made a direct confrontation with both Armagnac and Bourbon inevitable, the precise flashpoint being the county of Rodez, which was nominally assigned to the Lancaster by the treaty severing Gascony from England but was governed by the House of Armagnac. John interceded in a dispute between squatters and refugees over title rights in part of the county and took an appeal, which triggered an immediate confrontation with the Armagac. Armagnac was legally entitled to handle the matter himself as feudal suzerain and confident in his house’s large military retinue. Yet the count had severely underestimated John’s nerve and discounted the Lancaster’s ties to Burgundy and Italy. Carlo Visconti had already breached the Rhone in a campaign against the routier garrisons in Auvergne and the Rhone valley; as was typical practice for the time and place, the Italians simply bought off the routiers, who were ostensibly promised passage to the Holy Land. While some certainly did end up taking ship at Marsailles or Genoa, most dissipated into the countryside and pressed west, into the vulnerable and wartorn communities of Languedoc. John of Bedford hired “many hundreds” of these men and deployed them against the Armagnac, scattering the family and overrunning its holdings. The Count died of an infected wound in May 1423, leaving his vast estates leaderless and exposed to the Gascons.

    With the defeat and death of the Count of Armagnac and the withdrawal of the Duke of Bourbon, John’s position became unassailable in the south. Carlo’s occupation of the trans-Rhodanian provinces of Valais, Forez, and Nimes were confirmed with the transfer of these territories to the Electoral Kingdom of Burgundy by the treaty of Lyons of 1424. By this same treaty, Philip the King of Lorraine surrendered Nevers and Charolais to the house of Bourbon and took into his possession the counties of Picardy, Boulogne, and Vermandois, and was additionally freed of any remaining homage for Artois and Flanders, which were legally severed from France and integrated into the Holy Roman Empire as fiefs of the Lotharingian Crown. John of Bedford’s southern coup was retroactively legitimated by the French Court with his appointment as the King’s lieutenant in Languedoc, a position held by the late Duke of Bourbon as an absentee rentier. Bedford gained the honor as part of the courtly machinations and especially due to the favor of the Burgundian Queen Regent, who was impressed by John’s adroit stewardship of Gascony and flattered by the rich gifts he delivered to her and the Dauphin.

    Carlo’s cooperation with Philip extended into a full-throated alliance against the Swiss. Carlo asserted Savoyard claims to the Vaud and secured control over Basel and Freiburg, additionally suppressing a rebellion in the mediatized county of Sitten. The Bernese were confronted and defeated in a bloody battle in the Valais, which ultimately did little beyond checking, temporarily- Swiss expansion into the west; Carlo further asserted his suzerainty over the Grey League of Chur, forcing them to abandon their alliance with the Swiss Cantons.

    Philip’s vassalization of the duchies of Julich and Berg had serious ramifications for Germany. The three Prince-Bishop Electorates had been mediatized, their lands seized by the Burgundians and their allies; but Cologne had extensive lands in Westphalia which were left in an uncertain position following the bishopric’s conquest. The fate of Ravensburg, nominally in union with Julich but under Burgundian occupation since 1412, posed a serious threat to the stability of the Empire’s western provinces.

    Philip initially proposed granting Ravensburg to his ally, brother-in-law, and vassal Adolph I, Duke of Cleves and Count of Mark, along with territory taken from prince-bishoprics in the region, which were together to be made a new Electoral title; Adolph was expected to transfer Cleves and Mark to Philip for this largesse, and it was understood that Philip would have his support in a future election. Adolph I was involved in a dispute with his youngest brother Gerhard, who sought Mark after Count Deitrich was slain in battle in 1398 and the territory passed from the second son to the first. Philip interceded on Adolph’s behalf, proposing to grant Ravensberg to Deitrich in return for a renunciation of claims. Adolph accepted, but only on condition that he should be granted the title of Duke and a Burgundian bride for his son; he received a natural daughter of Philip and a pledge that his new father-in-law would lobby the emperor on his behalf for a new title to be created for him. Adolph proved an ambitious soldier and shrewd diplomat, first allying himself with Count Nicholas II of Tecklenburg against the Prince-Bishops of Munster and Osnabruck, conquering and annexing the former and forcing the latter to swear allegiance. Nicholas II then was betrayed by Adolph, who allied in turn with East Frisian rebels against the Count of Tecklenburg and his brother the Bishop of Bremen. In 1425 Nicholas II fell in battle against the Frisians, and his county was occupied by the lord of Ravensburg, ostensibly to “protect” the underage heir’s inheritance; by 1427 Adolph controlled all of the territories of the Prince-Bishoprics of Munster and Osnabruck, and he desired to cement his conquests with elevation as Duke of Westphalia and thereby cement his status as a major prince in northwest Germany. This was contrary to Philip’s wishes, since he did not see much reason to support a powerful and ambitious neighbor- certainly not one with potential dynastic or territorial claims on his own vassal’s territory. Carlo eventually agreed to elevate Ravensburg to a duchy, formally enfeoffing him with the mediatized lands of the former Prince-Bishoprics, a solution which did little but confirm the status quo, for better or worse, and the matter of a Westphalian electorate was abandoned.

    Although fairly successful in keeping domestic tranquility and preserving Italy’s international prestige, Carlo Visconti’s reign was destined to be a brief interlude before the tempestuous years of bitter internecine warfare in Italy, and his final years were marked by the looming threat of war with Louis of Hungary. In truth, his health had never been particularly robust, and he compounded these issues with copious alcoholism and gluttony, and a wasting disease that was eventually diagnosed as cancer. By 1429, the second Visconti Emperor was deteriorating rapidly, and it was increasingly clear that he would not live for much longer. He was nevertheless able in August of that year to affirm the inheritance of his cousin Duke Galeazzo I of Tuscany to the Habsburg Archduchy of Austria. Louis of Hungary did not accept this enfeoffment and invaded Austria in early September 1429, causing the Emperor to proclaim an imperial ban and strip Louis of his Imperial titles; in response, Louis called upon his brother-in-law Wladyslaw of Poland and marshalled for a general war. As the Emperor neared death, it seemed that the Empire also approached the brink.

    Carlo’s impending demise revived difficult questions vis a vis the immense and fractious dynastic inheritance of the Visconti Empire. He and his wife had two living sons. The eldest Giovanni was eighteen and already invested with the County of the Delfino in expectation of his royal inheritance; the younger son Azzone was the fifteen-year-old Count of Lyons. Although not technically children, neither had the age or gravitas to easily expect to inherit the Holy Roman Empire- certainly not in a time of crisis and war- and Carlo himself seems to have disfavored the notion; correspondence with King Philip of Lotharingia indicates that he was attempting to gain the Franche-Comte in return for supporting a Burgundian bid for the Imperial crown, a tacit acknowledgment that Philip was now the best contender to meet Louis’ bid for Luxemburg revanchism. A new marriage alliance was not possible due to consanguinity, but Philip was prepared to expand Princess Joan’s dower lands to include not only the County of Macon but also the commune of Pontarlier on the Swiss border as well as Saint-Claude on the border with Savoy in the Jura piedmont, both small but strategically significant territories that anchored Visconti power above the Alps and enabled them to begin making inroads into the Vaud.

    Further difficulties arose from Carlo’s younger brothers and his collateral relations. His younger siblings were in their prime; all of them were royalty, and all had married into powerful and prestigious families: King Giovanni of Sicily, now also the Archduke of Austria alongside his wife, and King Galeazzo of Sardinia, who de facto controlled the city of Genoa and its maritime empire and was married to an Aragonese princess. Carlo’s two remaining brothers- warlike and magnificent- ruled unstable principalities in Rome and Constantinople. Far more insidious was the threat from the eldest line, King Matteo Visconti of Lombardy, for Matteo was a powerful and ambitious prince who made no secret of his intention to regain his rightful place at the head of the Visconti family. For eight decades since Gian Galeazzo’s coup, Italy had enjoyed the singular benefit of a hegemonic prince, but that would no longer be the case in the coming years. On December 23, 1429, Emperor Carlo Visconti, King of Provence, received the last rites in his palace in Aix. The following morning, the thirty-seven-year-old emperor died. He had reigned in Provence for just shy of eighteen years and the Empire for seven.

    [1]”Balkan” is of Turkish words, deriving from “over the mountains.” Italy would undoubtedly refer to the Dinaric Alps, and that name would probably become the general term.

    [2]The French royal line is rather different here- the House of Orleans and Anjou were aggressively pruned, while the House of Berry has survived. OTL “John II” predeceased his father; TTL he survived, along with his first wife Catherine of France, and has sons to carry on the line. I apologize for royalty’s confounding tendency to cycle through a handful of names and the same collection of titles, but please also bear in mind that the “Dukes of Orleans” TTL are a different branch of the family than the OTL house; Charles of Orleans, as mentioned earlier, is the OTL King Charles VI “the Victorious,” while his brother John of Touraine has survived to marry the Count of Holland’s daughter.

    [3]Several dynastic divergences to be noted, here: firstly, that William of Holland survived somewhat longer than OTL, secondly that his brother John became a count with the mediatization of Liege sooner than OTL owing to the fallout of the Visconti-Burgundy alliance and the war in the Low Countries. For convenience, I ended the line of Burgundy-Nevers somewhat sooner than OTL and did not have the territory pass into a new dynasty, since I wanted another territory in the south to give away to the Orleans and Nevers fit the bill quite well.

    [4]Apart from Burgundy-Nevers’ extinction, Anthony of Brabant has avoided his OTL death at Agincourt, and Brabant is likely to remain separate from the main Burgundian territories for some time more

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    Warring Vipers
  • Warring Vipers​

    The people of Rhodes, whom Neptune favored, invited Rome into Asia to liberate themselves from the Persians, but having invited the Romans to become their savior, the Rhodians destroyed themselves, for Rome did not depart after winning her spoils. Camaraderie may last a generation, but sons do not care for their father’s friends, and think only of slights suffered by ungrateful inferiors… just as the men who create a king are invariably destroyed by him, the nation freed by a foreign empire’s legions quickly finds itself their slaves.

    By 1430, King Matteo of Lombardy was determined to destroy the Venetian Republic. Although he certainly wished to rule the “lost Lombard Provinces” of Friuli and Veneto, his ultimate objective was to wrest control of the city of Genoa from his cousin Galeazzo I of Sardinia. He would take Genoa through chicanery instead of force- the Genoese were discontent with Galeazzo’s rule and desired a more forceful protector, a sovereign willing and able to battle their Venetian rivals. Azzone had rewarded the Genoese well for their support, but he had never broken his alliance with Venice, and his son was totally incapable of maintaining the same delicate balancing act between the two cities, as his talents, territorial endowment, and fortunes were all much less than those of his illustrious father.

    Matteo in contrast could and did promise Genoa a war against the Venetians, devoting his army to the conquest of the Terrafirma. Genoa was to be given the chance to avenge her humiliating defeat at Chioggia eight decades prior as part of a new anti-Venetian league comprising the alliance of three men: King Matteo I of Lombardy, King Louis of Hungary, and Duke Stephen of Bavaria. The three had common territorial and political ambitions pressing against the margins of the current European status quo. Matteo wanted to push his frontier to the Carnaro, gain the loyalty of Genoa by attacking her ancient nemesis, and expand his prestige and influence both within and outside of Italy through a victorious demonstration of Lombard arms; King Louis wished to “reclaim” lost patrimonial lands such as Dalmatia, assert his inheritance to Austria, and his dynastic and personal prestige in Germany; and Duke Stephen wished merely to expand his territory, and secondarily support his sister and her son the King of Lombardy. Stephen had designs on South Tirol and the Trentino, which were Venetian since their conquest in the 1390s, but Matteo asserted his own claims there, overruling his uncle. Stephen was nevertheless to be well rewarded with Styria and Upper Austria, the lower part going to Louis of Hungary. Louis was also to gain Carinthia and Carniola and the city of Fiume, all Venetian. Louis staked his claims to Dalmatia and Albania, but these were contested by the Visconti and the matter was left diplomatically unresolved at the time of the war’s outbreak.

    Matteo also signed an agreement with Giovanni of Sicily, heir to the Kingdom of Naples, supporting his claims to Dalmatia, Greece, and Albania- a treaty kept carefully hidden from the Hungarians, given that Matteo had loosely promised these same territories to King Louis of Hungary. Matteo was willing to work with the Luxemburg sovereign to crush their mutual enemies, but he was not prepared to accept Hungarian domination of the Adriatic littoral and he viewed Venetian territory as naturally lying within the Visconti zone of influence; he had attempted to insist on the point and block any Hungarian territorial claims against Venice, and only grudgingly had he parted with Fiume and Carniola, still resentful of Louis’ ambitions and fearful of Hungarian power generally.

    Venice was not ignorant of the vipers scheming against her. As early as 1427, while Matteo and Louis were tentatively negotiating the beginning of their alliance, a Venetian ambassador to Hungary warned the Senate that the Hungarian King “was of a belligerent and hostile disposition against us.” For many years now Venice had feared the specter of just such an alliance between Pavia and Budapest, and she had taken steps to prepare herself for the coming storm. The Venetians unsuccessfully interceded diplomatically on behalf of the Swiss in the Vaud War, attempting to diffuse the confrontation between the Cantons and the Provencal Emperor Carlo Visconti, and Venice continued to bankroll the Swiss even after their defeat. Contingents of Swiss and other mercenaries were a mainstay in Venice, increasingly by 1430 taking on the characteristics of a semi-professional force kept on permanent retainer. The new Doge had adopted a muscular foreign policy in the east and personally financed a serious expansion of the Venetian Arsenal, including the construction of auxiliary facilities in Corfu and Iraklion.

    Diplomatically, Venice’s key allies were, principally: the King of Aragon, Alfonso V; the new King of Provence Giovanni I; Louis I the Prince of Rome; and of course, Duke Galeazzo of Tuscany. Provence was the natural rival for Milan- the Provencal King stood was the most obvious heir of the Emperors Azzone and Carlo Visconti, and he resented Matteo’s attempts at asserting his own predominance. The cash-strapped Giovanni readily accepted Venetian subsidies and promised to intervene on her behalf if she was attacked by the Lombards. Even before the contested Imperial succession sharpened the bitter blades of enmity between the two lines, Giovanni I already had ample reason to distrust Matteo of Lombardy: both men contested the inheritance of the Duchy of Savoy, whose aging duke Amadeus finally died without legitimate heirs in late October of 1429. The Visconti were distantly descended from the Savoy, and the Duchy was nominally part of the Kingdom of Provence; the Savoy’s territories in Piedmont, meanwhile, were fiefs of the King of Lombardy. Matteo claimed Piedmont for himself through his lineal descent and additionally in his right as sovereign, but he also sent soldiers west into Savoy proper and permitted the attempt of Emmanuel of Ivrea, a bastard son of the late Duke, to stake his own right to Savoy. Emmanuel was an accomplished knight who had won a small fortune ransoming a captured Hungarian noble, and he had married his eldest son to the Countess Margaret of Piombino, daughter of the Duke of Tuscany, thereby affiliating himself with the Gold Visconti. Matteo at this time was not yet hostile to his Tuscan cousins and saw tacitly supporting Emmanuel’s bid as a cheap way of expanding his influence west, but the affair permanently soured his relations with Giovanni even after he eventually withdrew military and diplomatic support for Emmanuel. Emmanuel himself was a mercenary opportunist, and indeed his venture was likely underwritten in part by the Venetians as an attempt to gain a new ally in the place of the defunct Savoy; Emmanuel served as an intermediary between Venice and Provence, secretly pledging to vacate Savoy to his younger son Amadeus, cede the Vaud and County of Bresse to the King, and accept the suzerainty of Provence over his territories on both sides of the Alps, in return for Provencal support in conquering Piedmont.

    Aragon had not involved herself in Italy since the collapse of the Barcelona dynasty in the 1390s, but the old Catalan claims and interests were not forgotten by the new Trastamara Kings. Now in his mid-thirties, Alfonso V had inherited Aragon after the death of his sickly but assertive father Ferdinand in 1416. His family ruled most of Iberia, and substantial Occitan estates as well. Ferdinand’s brother John III was the King of Navarre in jure uxoris alongside his wife Queen Blanche- although he lacked children with his wife, owing to her being fifteen years his senior- and his younger brother Henry had inherited the Foix estates and the Viscounty of Narbonne and Montpelier, seized by Ferdinand’s soldiers and nominally subject to French rule. His first cousin and brother-in-law was John II, the King of Castille, and he himself maintained the Aragonese claims to Naples, Sicily, Sardinia, and Corsica. To Alfonso, the Visconti Empire was an unwelcome interlude in the Catalan hegemony over southern Italy, and with Venetian help he hoped to restore Catalonia’s influence in the Western Mediterranean; certainly, with Castille a dynastic ally and France ruled by a child, Aragon had no obvious threats in Europe to divert her attentions.

    Aragon was the first of several foreign powers that would involve themselves in the Wars of the Vipers: Germany, Hungary, Bohemia, Poland, France, and England all directly or indirectly aligned themselves with the belligerents. Actual warfare in Germany itself would largely be limited to the fringes of the Empire, at this stage the Austro-Bavarian territories in the southeast and later the Alps and parts of Alsace, Belgium, and Swabia. Galeazzo’s supporters in Austria, rallying principally around his consort Margaret, were financed largely at Venetian expense, and waged a difficult effort against the Hungarian invasion. The Austrian nobility insisted on maintaining Austria’s independence from both Hungary and Bavaria and were generally more inclined to favor the Duke of Tuscany; Margaret’s chief benefit was that only she would maintain the Habsburg legacy by keeping the Archduchy intact. Louis’ forces thus had to enter his nominal domains by brute force, bludgeoning Vienna itself through a lengthy blockade which literally starved the city into submission, or at least made enough starve and enough angry to raise up against the rest. In Tirol and Styria matters were more pacific; these regions had seen much of the fighting between the Italians and the Austrians two decades prior, and whatever enmity lingered against the Wittelsbachs faded like old wounds against more recent anti-Italian sentiments. In contrast to the haughty Louis, Duke Stephen of Bavaria was an astute middle-aged politician and dynastic patriarch, who had in the preceding decades consolidated nearly the entirety of the familial estates in Bavaria under his sole rule, and now he turned outward to expand the domains that his many sons would inherit upon his death.

    Even ten years prior, Emperor Carlo Visconti likely would have succeeded in rallying the Visconti dynasty and Italy generally against Wittelsbach encroachment on Lombardy’s alpine coronet, but his death and the hardening divides between Green and Blue prevented a coherent response, and the Green’s “treachery” by allying with Hungary finally destroyed any semblance of national or dynastic unity for at least a generation by encouraging foreign meddling in the internecine familial squabbles of Italy’s ruling house.

    Before the armies could be raised and the battle lines drawn, the thorny question of the Imperial Succession nearly unraveled the Lombard-Hungarian alliance. King Matteo proclaimed his own candidacy for the Imperial throne and flatly refused to consider supporting Louis’ candidacy without substantial concessions. By his own reckoning, Matteo’s credentials were impeccable: he was descended from the Imperial house of Wittelsbach through his mother, the royal house of Valois through his grandmother, and married to a French princess. Matteo was a crowned and anointed King, an Imperial Elector, and a rich and powerful magnate in good standing with both the Church and the Empire. Moreover, it made little sense for Louis to claim the lion’s share of the territorial spoils for himself along with the Imperial crown- Louis was to gain much of Carinthia and Austria, a free hand in Bohemia, and possibly even Dalmatia. Citing the agreement arranged by Emperor Azzone Visconti, Matteo refused to support Louis unless he received for himself the crown of Croatia, including Dalmatia, and the Duchy of Carniola, terms which Louis refused to consider even in part. Louis viewed the Imperial crown as his birthright and the Visconti as upstart parvenus, and his counter-offer of a financial indemnity and a partition of Dalmatia was grossly inadequate to the geopolitical circumstances.

    Into the breach stepped the King of Lorraine, Philip the Good of Burgundy. Philip had his own vote and won his brother-in-law King Giovanni of Provence by offering the southern part of his imperial Franche-Comte. The Wittelsbach Elector Palatine of the Rhine was won over with a marriage and extensive bribes; the Germans, meanwhile, failed to cohere behind a single candidate, Louis keeping his own vote as Elector of Brandenburg for himself and the Elector of Saxony garnering two votes from himself and his new brother-in-law King of Bohemia. With only three votes to his name, Philip had a plurality of the electoral college, and like Carlo Visconti before him he won over the King of Bohemia due to Louis’ hostility and intransigence; with four votes, Philip was acclaimed Emperor in a contentious election that only deepened German hostility to “foreigners” now nominally ruling them. His elevation also forced Matteo and Louis to redouble their alliance; Philip was determined to chasten the Luxemburg patriarch for his intransigence and renewed the Imperial Ban against Louis, and intimated that he might do the same to the Lombard king as well if he continued to intrigue alongside the King of Hungary.

    On April 14, 1433, the Venetians were confronted with a brusque demand from Louis of Hungary to pay homage to him, accept his suzerainty over Ragusa- nominally subject to Venice but always restive and resentful- and admit Hungarian garrisons into Zara and Spalato. Refusal predictably triggered a war that Venice had good prospects of winning- it was clear that Louis’ attentions were focused not south, towards the Adriatic, but north towards Poland. King Wladyslaw III Jagellion of Poland, died without male issue in 1430; the Polish throne was immediately claimed by Louis’ wife Elizabeth, daughter of Wladyslaw and Queen Hedwig, who had ruled Poland in her own right as a “king,” a precedent now justifying Elizabeth’s own rights to the throne.

    The Polish nobility had some reason to look favorably upon the Luxemburg’s accession. Her consort Louis’ grandfather and namesake Louis the Great had ruled Hungary, Poland and Naples in personal union, and although Louis had largely been a distant and absentee king, he had freely granted many privileges to the nobility in order to secure his daughter’s succession. It was supposed that Louis might do the same, admittedly from a considerable distance and through the filtered propaganda of Elizabeth’s supporters. The younger Louis’ ambitions certainly encompassed restoring Luxemburg control over all three kingdoms ruled by his namesake: a Polish-Hungarian union would buttress Sigismund’s authority over Silesia and Brandenburg and strengthen his hand against Bohemia.

    From the Polish side, the marriage alliance between Louis and Wladyslaw had secured Poland’s southern frontier and enabled their conquest of the Teutonic Order, and Hungarian support had additionally contributed to Wladyslaw’s success in subjugating Moldavia and conquering Odessa from the Crimean Tatars; refusing Queen Elizabeth’s inheritance would have meant civil war and foreign invasion, destabilizing Poland’s grip over her new conquests along the Baltic and Black Seas. Elizabeth brought with her two healthy sons and a daughter, the incorporation of Brandenburg into the Polish sphere of influence, and a dynastic claim on the Bohemian and Imperial thrones, which would enable Poland to reassert her lapsed claims over Silesia and Pomeralia and prevent a hostile German Kaiser from interfering in Prussia via the Hanseatic League. Military necessity, dynastic continuity, and the fruitful promise of a strengthened alliance with Hungary all favored the union.

    As with her mother Hedwig, Elizabeth was proclaimed “king” and ruled in her own right as sovereign; Louis’ intransigent attitude towards his own Magyar nobility notwithstanding, Elizabeth could and did reassure her vassals that their privileges would be respected and the kingdom’s governance continued in line with Polish traditions- in particular, the “tradition” established by Louis the Great half a century prior, that the king would largely leave the nobles alone.

    Not all looked with equanimity on Elizabeth’s accession. In the first place, Wladyslaw’s cousin Sigismund Kestitutais of Lithuania was actively engaged in a civil war against his cousin Svitrigaila, who had been unilaterally elected King by his supporters in Lithuania after the death of Vytautas the Great in 1429, an act in violation of the Union of Horodlo which required Polish approval of any succession. Late in his reign, Vytautas had attempted to distance himself from Poland, going so far as to receive the crown of Lithuania from Carlo Visconti and Pope Martin V, becoming the first crowned King of Lithuania in a century and the second in history.[1] Vytautas’ crowning was the culmination of his career and a clear attempt to assert Lithuania’s legal and political equality with Poland, which disputed Vytautas’ control over Podolia and Volyhna and increasingly adopted a domineering attitude towards their erstwhile Lithuanian allies. With the collapse of the Teutonic Order as a common threat and Polish expansion into the Black Sea littoral, Vytautas no longer saw the benefit in towing the line vis a vis his neighbor, and the Italians were happy to oblige owing to Poland’s alliance with Hungary. Vytautas’ coronation was not recognized by the Poles, who revived their territorial claims and interceded against the Jagellonians- under the extant treaties, Poland permitted Vytautas to govern these lands during his lifetime but expected them to revert to the Polish crown upon his death. Vytautas depended on the military support of the Kalmar Union and the diplomatic support of the Visconti and Burgundian Emperors.

    Religious tensions further exacerbated the unsettled political nature of Lithuania. Lithuania had only formally converted to Christianity in 1387 as part of their marital alliance with Poland. This novelty, their relative isolation, and the extensive Russian Orthodox populations in the eastern territories, together meant that the Lithuanians were perhaps less attached to Catholic orthodoxy than nations further west. In particular, the Lithuanians hoped to negotiate a separate Uniate Church along the lines created in Greece after the Latin Conquest, by which the Orthodox clergy would accept the nominal supremacy of Rome but otherwise be allowed to maintain their liturgical customs and hierarchies. The Orthodox Church remained a major landowner and therefore a powerful political power in the east. In living memory, Lithuania itself had at times allied opportunistically with nearly every one of her neighbors- Muslim, Orthodox, and Catholic alike- and at times waged war against all of them; there were certainly those in Latin Europe who viewed Lithuania’s alleged piety and general “European-ness” with suspicion. Svitrigaila deliberately courted these other dissident voices, and he is sometimes considered a founder of what would eventually become the Lithuanian Reformation alongside Mindaugas of Vilnia for the political defiance he gave his life to, albeit unwillingly and unwittingly.

    Mindaugas was undoubtedly influenced by the heterodox writings of Jan Hus, a Bohemian priest who advocated for systematic clerical reform. Hus had participated eagerly in the Council of Aachen and some of his views carried the day, but his affiliation with Wycliffe led to his eventual and inevitable excommunication, with only the quiet intervention of Louis of Hungary preventing his execution. Hus fled east to Lithuania, where he took up residence in Vilnius, where his works were translated first into Polish and then Lithuanian and Ruthenian by sympathetic followers. Even after his death to an unspecified illness in 1422 his writings continued to impact Eastern Europe, which bucked against the unhappy compromise worked by the more established Catholic nations to the west, the deceptively earth-shaking decree that the Pope could not also be a Prince, and the medieval “Two Swords Doctrine” thereby required the seizure of his lands by the King of Italy.

    The crux of the Council of Aachen was a product of the peculiar circumstances of the time and always intertwined with the fiery threads of Visconti imperial ambitions. Azzone Visconti had convoked the Council (strictly speaking, it had been convened by Pope and the Cardinals, but the Emperor’s hand had pressed the issue and guided it to its natural conclusion) to legitimize his annexation of the Papacy and dissolution of the Prince Electorates- while also ensuring the tacit support (or at least grudging acquiescence) of the Germans. The Holy Roman Empire consisted of numerous fiefdoms of varying governmental structures, including a substantial number of prince-bishoprics- none of whom were inclined to accept the idea that their territorial possessions were somehow inherently heretical.

    Squaring this particular circle was the task of the Emperor’s theologians, jurists, and philosophers, a challenge to which the many distinguished men of the University of Bologna and other bright minds of the early Renassance devoted their considerable talents on behalf of their most benevolent employer and sovereign overlord. The resulting doctrine was a complex- one might say tortuous- focus on the concept of sovereignty itself. The Pope, it was decreed, could not be at once both a prince and a bishop; a secular prince, however, could make the Pope a landowning tenant, as the Pope was (all else considered) a free man with the same potential secular rights and interests as any other private individual. In this capacity he (and by extension) other bishops could become landowning vassals of the Emperor, a figure all agreed was set apart from normal monarchs with a peculiar interest in defending and advancing the Christian faith; left unsettled was the degree to which a “normal” king- or even, say a Grand Duke- could bequeath land (or other property) to a clergyman, or indeed whether the concept of tithing or donations to churches could be inherently sinful by polluting the unworldly with the worldly.

    Nor was the obvious implication of imperial suzerainty over the church particularly comfortable to foreign monarchs. In the Edict of Basel, issued shortly after his accession, Emperor Carlo Visconti explicitly asserted his sovereignty over all Crusader States and other “territories of the church.” This edict was primarily directed towards the Latin states of the east, the sweeping conquests of Azzone and his allies in Greece and Asia Minor, and arguably also intended to forestall any spurious attempt by Henry Plantaganet, now the King of Jerusalem and Syria and a renowned and successful warlord, to lay any dynastic claims to the Italian territories of his wife’s imperial father. The doctrine also enabled Carlo to short-circuit several complicated legal issues in his negotiations with England and France vis a vis Aquitaine, by essentially “resetting” the table for both powers in separate grants of authority.

    The full implications of the Edict of Basel were perhaps not entirely evident at the time, though Carlo was clever enough to have been at least vaguely aware of them; he was certainly eying Iberia, wary of the Aragonese and reminded by his cousin the Duke of Tuscany of the latter’s dynastic claim thereto, and together with his flat refusal to accept the spurious honorific of “Imperator Totus Hispaniae” and his diplomatic support for the Kingdom of Portugal suggested a general policy of weakening Castille and clipping the resurgent wings of Aragon. Yet he was also undoubtedly aiming his imperial ire at Poland, for the Poles were, along with the Iberians, the contemporary powers who most strenuously objected to the Imperial pretensions of the Visconti dynasty and their army of scholars, administrators, and merchants.

    Poland had just waged a war of conquest against the Teutonic Order, and then unilaterally forced the Order to relocate to the shores of the Black Sea, granting lands explicitly made contingent on the investiture of the Polish King; the Italian Holy Roman Emperor posing as a separate source of feudal authority for the knights was most unwelcome, particularly given traditional Genoese and Venetian commercial influence in the Black Sea, a region of growing significance- and ambition- for Krakow. Poland also looked covetously and warily towards the Livonian Order along the Black Sea- which, although allied to the Teutonic Knights, had survived their dissolution, and remained a weakened if persistent thorn in the side of both Poland and Lithuania. The Terra Mariana, seized from Baltic pagans by German and Scandinavian knights and nobles, remained a patchwork of largely ecclesiastical territories linked to the Empire through trade and tradition, and they quickly secured their entry into the Holy Roman Empire in the reign of Azzone Visconti, upending a decree from the early 13th Century which barred Imperial sovereignty over the Teutonic Knights and other territories in Prussia and Livonia. Carlo Visconti went further and his imperial prerogatives in all of the territories conquered in the Baltic Crusade, a decision influenced not merely by his own imperial rivalry with Poland and Hungary but also by the Hanseatic League and his brother-in-law Philip of Lorraine; both the Hansa and the merchants of Brugge and Amsterdam had longstanding interests in the Baltic and sought the Emperor’s aid in expanding their reach into that region against the growing strength of both Poland and Scandinavia.

    This was the fault line that compelled Lithuania to break from the Catholic Church, even as it ironically pulled Hungary and Lombardy together. For Louis of Hungary never wavered in his loyalty to this “caesaropapist” vision of a Catholic Church more firmly wedded to the needs of Imperial Christianity, even as the Church also seemingly adopted more “Byzantine” attitudes towards autocephalous national churches under the de facto control of individual sovereigns. Western kings, after all, had always pretended towards quasi-imperial (though not quasi-divine) power; the king of Castille had haughtily proclaimed himself Imperator Totus Hispaniae, and the post-Carolingian French kings, although taking pains to acknowledge the nominal superiority of the Holy Roman Emperors over a mere king, always asserted that their own monarch was “sovereign in his own territory” and owed nothing to the vaunted (Holy) Roman Emperor for his royal authority. This vision perfectly suited Louis, who craved the imperial diadem even as he was repeatedly and decisively denied it. The Hungarian monarch adopted the attitudes of the French and proclaimed in his emissaries to the Visconti Emperors that “while he was forever their friend and loyal servant in Germany and the Empire, he was also a sovereign prince in Hungary and the Lands of St. Stephen- who blesses our reign- and [Louis] could view him as no more than a brother and no less.” After his imperial ban, Louis haughtily styled himself “Imperator Totus Sarmatiae” in probable imitation of the Spanish, a rash and arrogant honorific never accepted by the Lombards, the Germans, or the new emperor Philip of Lorraine.

    The Hungarian Church was more circumspect- and more successful- in winning for itself de facto independence from Italian oversight, including the right to collect church tithes on the Pope’s behalf and earmark funds “necessary for the maintenance of the Church” for the realm, administer clerical lands in Hungary, perform rites in the vernacular as well as Latin, and even to permit clerical marriage- a reform probably influenced by the traditions of the orthodox population in conquered Serbia and Bulgaria- and set standards for the performance of Mass and the Sacraments within Hungary, subject to Papal veto and review. Louis’s supporters in Bohemia won similarly extensive concessions thanks to the mediation of the half-Visconti King Charles, but the Poles were less successful, probably because the Emperor was less sensitive to the needs of a distant and fractious monarchy unallied to him and lacking a prince-electorate. It should be remembered that Poland had spent much of the previous century in a state of uncontrolled anarchy and had lost substantial territory to the Germans and Bohemians and even the Lithuanians for a time, only seeming to recover thanks to a salacious alliance with (and indeed, marital union under) the formerly pagan Lithuanians and additional submission on at least two separate occasions to the distant rule of a powerful King of Hungary. Notwithstanding their victory over the Teutonic Knights, Poland was yet viewed in Pavia- and to a degree, probably in much of Western Europe- as a de facto satellite of the Hungarian monarchy, destined to fall into union under them and serve them- much was made of Poland “having women for kings” and thereby being placed in the naturally subordinate position of a wife to a husband; Poland’s power was not yet appreciated, for it would in time come to dominate the union and the empire founded by Louis would not bear his dynasty’s name forever.

    In early Spring of 1434, as Louis crossed the Carpathians with his army, he seemed to confirm Poland’s new subservient status by avoiding Krakow entirely in favor of crossing straight into Podolia and Volhyna. Poland had been forced to surrender both territories to the “pagan” warlord Vytautas after decades of struggling (and largely failing) to maintain control over Red Ruthenia, but now Louis’ Magyars won the province in a single season. In a striking display of strategic generalship, the predominately cavalry army of Louis’ Hungarians outmaneuvered and destroyed Svitrigaila’s loyalists in a series of engagements on the windswept plains, hounding the survivors back behind their walls. The King’s siege cannons followed “like vultures after lions” and rapidly forced the regions’ towns and castles into submission over the following summer.

    A prudent man likely would have cemented this triumph by allying with Sigismund Kerutalis of Trakai, Svitrigaila’s cousin and rival, and thereby secure Lithuania without further bloodshed; Louis, however, was in no mood to compromise with upstart quasi-heretical usurpers. Instead, he annexed Podolia and Volhyna to Hungary and began issuing proclamations in the occupied provinces rolling back the privileges granted by the Jagellonians to the Lithuanian and Ruthenian nobles. These actions immediately caused friction not only with the local aristocrats but also with the Poles- for Poland’s nobility viewed both Volhyna and Podolia as properly Polish fiefdoms. For now, the Poles were not able to press the issue, but Louis’ actions did ensure that he could no longer rely upon his wife’s kingdom for military support.

    Louis’ hamfistedness forced the Jagellonians to temporarily set aside their differences and form a common alliance against the Luxemburgs. Kertulais and Svitrigaila agreed to replicate the arrangement made by Vytautas of Lithuania and King Jagiello of Poland- Kertulais would press his own claim to Poland and if successful retain the suzerainty over Lithuania as its nominal King, power de facto resting with Svitrigaila as Grand Duke and Regent. The cousins were by this point also in alliance with the powerful Eric of Pomerania, King of the Kalmar Union, who promised war against the Luxemburgs.

    Governed until 1424 by the formidable Queen Margaret, the union of Denmark, Norway, and Sweden was largely a reaction against growing German- particularly Hanseatic- influence in the region.[2] A ruthless, ambitious, tactful, and irrepressible leader, Margaret’s personal leadership had welded together the three crowns, placating the truculent Swedish nobility and ending a generation of dynastic and political strife within that kingdom. Unfortunately, her heir, Eric of Pomerania, was not her equal. Margaret’s nephew, and a member of the Pomeranian House of Griffith by birth, King Eric was ambitious, intelligent, vivacious, charming, and handsome, a healthy and physically impressive man said by one contemporary to be able to vault cleanly to or from a saddle on his own; he was, however, also irascible, impatient, and intemperate, of a kindred spirit with Louis of Hungary in his attitudes towards the royal prerogative and the deference due a king by his subjects. Eric had embroiled Denmark in a costly war over Holstein which won him little at great expense, and he continually alienated the Swedes through his insistent demands upon them, but the waxing strength of Poland after the collapse of the Teutonic Knights and especially the prospective union between Poland, Brandenburg, Bohemia, and Hungary gave Eric a ready-made justification- palatable even among the more truculent nobles- as to why he needed to raise their taxes. The diplomatic support (and deep pockets) of first King and then Emperor Philip of Lorraine undoubtedly also helped greased the wheels of the union’s consolidation, as did Philip’s imperial decrees recognizing lapsed Swedish and Danish claims against Estonia. Eric’s armies marched together in defense of Lithuania and the Baltic was set ablaze with the fires of war.

    All of which is to say that the war with Venice was the last thing on King Louis’ mind, despite his extravagant promises to King Matteo of Lombardy. Apart from a desultory and unsuccessful siege of Zara and a halfhearted raid through the Carnaro, the Hungarians did not participate directly in this stage of the Italian Civil War.

    It was the Venetians’ other great rival, the Genoese, who proved a more dangerous opponent to the Serene Republic; unsurprisingly so, given that Venice’s fortunes were always more closely linked with the sea than the land. Matteo’s supporters orchestrated a coup against the King of Sardinia in late 1431. King Galeazzo was imprisoned by the Lombards, who occupied the city more or less peacefully, and the captive king was swayed to abdicate his titles and thereupon tonsured and banished to Monza cathedral; his Catalan wife and his children, all daughters, became wards in Pavia, hostages for his good behavior. Genoa itself rapidly prepared for war under the new administration.

    Venice had by 1433 more than recovered from the difficulties immediately following the War of Chioggia and the Black Death of the preceding century. From a nadir of a few dozen galleys, the Venetian trade fleet was now the largest in the Mediterranean, and Venice had swelled to the third largest city in Europe after Naples and Paris.[3]

    Tenebros was the focal point of renewed Venetian-Genoese rivalry, and it was in the littoral waters of Tenebros that the two republics faced each other in open battle. Venice had the ostensible advantage and would only strengthen with the arrival of additional forces from the Adriatic, but Admiral Fransisco was either arrogant and hungry for glory- as the Senate accused after the fact- or pressured into battle by his captains- as he himself alleged. The Venetian fleet was roughly comparable in the number of ships, but the Genoese warfleet had the wind and sun at their backs, and five large carracks with substantial contingents of heavily armored soldiers. In a battle that stretched into the afternoon, the Genoese routed the Venetians and captured several vessels.

    Genoa’s victory was welcome but far less significant than they would have liked. Venice had started the war as the stronger naval power, and one battle did not change that disparity. Critically, Venice was not fighting alone- both Provence and Aragon honored their alliances and interceded. Provence had no state navy and was never able to seriously menace Liguria itself, even if the threat did force the Genoese to strengthen their city’s defenses, but Aragon’s involvement was far more threatening to the Ligurian Republic, since the Aragonese did have a powerful navy and were contesting control over vital Genoese interests in the islands of the Thyrennian Sea. The Catalans decisively defeated a Genoese armada off the coast of Corsica, paving the way for Aragon’s occupation of both that island and Sardinia. Plans for the invasion of Sicily or even an attack on Naples or Genoa were postponed by bad weather and the unexpectedly stiff resistance of the garrison in Cagliari, but the threat was serious enough for the Genoese forces in the Aegean to be recalled. Faced with a threat closer to home, the Genoese cut bait on their overseas colonies, and ceded the initiative in the eastern theater to Venice.

    Genoa’s victory had the further consequence of persuading Ladislao of Thrace, heretofore a wary bystander, to finally abandon his neutrality and join opportunistically with the Genoese. Thrace lacked a navy but had a considerable army, and passed through Thessaly without incident, seeking to sweep the Pelopponese of the accursed Venetians once and for all.

    In the event, Ladislao’s gains were significant but far from complete. The Duke of Athens turned his cloak and submitted without a fight, trapping the Venetian garrison in a brief and futile resistance against the besieging Latins. Venice’s critical fortress city of Corinth was also taken after a lengthy siege, but the Morea itself was spared due to the onset of winter. In the north Ladislao saw more success, albeit achieved by his allies rather than his own army. The King of Thrace had made inroads with the Albanian chieftains and had won the loyalty of the new lord of the Kastrioti family: the warlord Georgio Castrioti of Albania, now in his mid-thirties, had cut his teeth fighting the Venetians in Zeta and the Turks in Anatolia, and by this period was Ladislao’s chief ally and military subordinate and a talented military commander.[4] Albania was by this time already firmly in the Latin zone of influence, and Albanian soldiers frequently served in the armies of both the Venetians and the Lombards, but Kastrioti stood out even among his contemporaries as a brilliant and bold tactician. Those qualities were not readily on display in this war, since the Venetians retreated to their coastal fortresses and avoided open battle, but his reputation and talents certainly contributed to Venice’s losses in the region.

    Despite valiant relief efforts, Venice was unable to prevent the fall of Durazzo, which finally succumbed after twenty-nine months of siege in late June 1435 due to an unspecified “deception” orchestrated by Kastrioti’s allies within the city which enabled some of his men to slip over the walls and seize a gatehouse; reputedly, the Albanians disguised themselves with either leaves or furs, some accounts evocatively describing “the black forests of Albania” themselves rising up against the foreigners at the Prince’s behest.[5] That same year Ladislao sued for peace on the status quo, diverted by Turkish raids on his Anatolian frontiers and the increasingly shrill requests of his ally King Henry of Jerusalem for assistance in meeting the Timurid threat to Syria. Venice was forced to surrender her previous commercial privileges and accept the loss of Athens and Albania but retained most of her overseas holdings, happy to salvage her overseas empire even as her position in Italy deteriorated sharply alongside her allies.

    [1]Vytautas sought to be crowned OTL. Since the Papacy and the Holy Roman Empire are both under Visconti control at this time and the Visconti are probably wishing to limit Polish influence due to the Polish-Hungarian alliance, I imagine that he would be successful in this endeavor TTL.

    [2]I ultimately sided against sparing Margaret’s son Olaf, but she did live about a decade longer TTL, avoiding whatever disease killed her in 1412.

    [3]Paris, historically, was already the largest city in Europe by this point, but TTL I am imagining that the end of the HYW has paradoxically lowered the city’s population, as the safety of the walls no longer as relevant a concern and the urban poor are resettled in the countryside. Crucially, the reforms passed by the Burgundian party have weakened the royal bureaucracy and court, drying up the source of economic activity which was always quite dramatic- IIRC, Madrid for instance saw its population double in the decades after it became the seat of the Castillan/Spanish monarchy, entirely due to the economic hangers-on of the court and knock-on effects (servants need shoes, nobles need fancy clothes and fancy weapons, bureaucrats need bread, etc.). Paris’ relative decline TTL is to some extent probably inevitable at this point, even if it is still likely to be one of Western Europe’s largest and most important cities. I’ll talk more about events in France in the next update, but this one is already getting massive, so I decided to split it like I did the last one.

    [4]This is not quite the OTL Skanderbeg, even if he shares a name and roughly equivalent age, but we will be hearing more of him.

    [5]This is a shameless Shakespeare reference and I’m not apologizing for it.
     
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    A Fistful of Snakes
  • A Fistful of Snakes​

    Alfonso V’s shadow loomed over the peninsula even before Aragon’s greatest king joined his army in the spring of 1435. Catalan forces had already occupied Sardinia and Corsica and were menacing the entire western coast of Italy. Indeed, the Italian civil war was by necessity not merely a localized conflict, nor was it simply a struggle to rule Italy itself; from the beginning, all the belligerents recognized that control over Italy implied hegemony over much of the tantalizing Mediterranean trade, potent influence over the Roman Catholic Church, and a strong position to intervene in the Holy Roman Empire and claim its legacy to bolster imperialist expansion. All three elements combined in the Italian engagement in the Levant.

    The denouement of the eastern Crusade illuminated the complex relationship between Milan and the traditional maritime cities of Genoa and Venice. Genoa had welcomed Milanese rule. Genoa’s rulers tired of incessant political infighting and recognized that Milan would favor the city as its obvious port of entry to the broader Mediterranean world. Genoese interests had underwritten Azzone’s invasions of Sardinia and Sicily, and the Genoese continued to finance his aspirations as his ambitions broadened beyond Italy. Genoa certainly profited under Visconti rule, and the Visconti always appreciated the city’s vital role in their burgeoning empire. Some signal as to the city’s importance was demonstrated by Gian Galeazzo’s decision to proclaim himself Doge of Genoa in a rigged election and subsequently install a viceroy in the city, as opposed to the more typical pattern of a formal dedication of the city to the Grand Signore and subsequent autocratic administration by a faceless royal bureaucrat. The Genoese oligarchs were lavished with particular attention and privileges, allowed to assemble a special advisory body- similar to the governance of Milan itself- and a third “Ministry of the Seas” and associated royal bureaucracy was quickly established within Genoa, paralleling the peacetime general administration in Pavia and the wartime “Emergency Council” in Milan.

    Genoa had exploited Visconti expansion to reclaim a measure of her former influence- the Genoese were granted extensive privileges in Northern Sardinia after its annexation by the Visconti, and the City of Messina likewise rapidly gained a Genoese merchant colony in the wake of Azzone’s invasion, a colony which continued to enjoy tax and customs exemptions under his successors. The Genoese retained a respectable colonial empire in the Eastern Mediterranean, an empire which persisted ambiguously after the city itself was integrated into the Visconti state: at the time of its submission to Milanese rule, the Republic of Genoa directly owned the entirety of Corsica, Gazaria along the Crimean Coast, Galata in Constantinople, the islands of Chios and Myteline off the Ionian coast, and the Pontic ports of Amasra and Samsun; merchant colonies and factories in Abkhazia along the Georgian Coast, and in Odessa and Bessarabia in Wallachia and Moldova, respectively.

    More significantly, Genoa was outright hegemonic in the Tyhrennian, particularly after the Catalans were evicted from Sardinia and Sicily, and by 1435 effectively controlled not only Messina and northern Sardinia but also the Tunisian port of Bizerte, which was conquered by a Genoese-backed crusading fleet under the aegis of Emperor Carlo Visconti. Genoa’s forces played a prominent role in supporting Ladislao’s conquest of Constantinople and took the opportunity to occupy Gallipoli, a reaction to the Venetian occupation of Tenedo. Having hitched their metaphorical cart to the Visconti, Genoa’s bellicose revanchism presaged the sweeping westward imperial-colonial expeditions of the Latins in the coming century, but in this era contributed to the rapid political degeneration of Visconti Italy by pouring ample fuel onto the many fires of local rivalries and competing ambitions.

    Venice’s own position relative to the Visconti remained dangerously ambiguous. On the one hand, Milan was clearly recognized as a potential threat; on the other, neither Milan nor Venice was quite prepared to open overt hostilities while it was still possible to make substantial gains via diplomacy, and other matters repeatedly diverted their attentions. Venice was still somewhat chastened by the War of Chioggia, although her trade had recovered (unlike the Genoese, who had gone into a precipitous decline after that conflict and only began recovering in the Visconti era), and her interests in the east still predominated over affairs on the mainland.

    Nevertheless, the possibility of Visconti hostility, and above all else the specter of an Italo-Hungarian axis, strongly factored into the broader geopolitical context as a dangerous threat to Venetian independence. Venice feared every instance of cooperation between her two strongest neighbors and worked fastidiously to retain good relations with the Lombards contra the Hungarians. Yet beneath the appeasement lurked a crouching lion, pondering war; the Venetians were determined not to allow the Visconti to encroach any further on the Adriatic littoral. War had been frankly considered in response to Azzone’s invasion of the Morea, and it was only Ladislao’s diversion of the enterprise north into Thrace, and substantial concessions in both Albania and the Peloponnese, which averted an overt breach of the alliance. Nevertheless, the Republic was clearly shifting towards a more muscular foreign policy to ensure her preeminence in the east, and the general feeling pervaded the city that something must be done to protect Venetian interests abroad in this new and dangerous world.

    It is unclear when and how Venice and Henry of Aquitaine entered a formal alliance, but it was probably both in response to the renewed militancy of the Mamluks under Barsbay and an attempt by the Venetians to divert Henry’s attentions away from her colonies. Henry had stepped into a fluid and chaotic world still reeling from the aftermath of Tamerlane’s invasion and the near-total political collapse of the Mamluk Sultanate. Tamerlane and his successor had consolidated their control over eastern Anatolia, rewarding their allies in the Qara Qoyunlu and fatally weakening both the Ottoman and Mamluk Sultanates with a relentless assault on their frontiers. With Muhummad Sultan’s death, the former Timurid vassals in Anatolia became functionally independent, and the burnt husk of Syria was set adrift, left exposed to the wrath of the Crusaders. John of Burgundy conquered Aleppo from the Timurids in 1421 but refused to return it after Louis signed his truce with the Mamluks- by his opinion, the truce merely forestalled further aggression against the Mamluks, and did not oblige him to return territory already taken. John was intent on conquering a new principality for himself, and he saw northern Syria as an essential steppingstone into Mesopotamia, his true objective.

    Damascus was traditionally the second pole anchoring the Mamluk state, but also frequently a source of discontent against Cairo’s rule. Damascus had elevated the Caliph Abbas to the Mamluk throne in 1411, over Abbas’ own strenuous objections; in practice little more than a puppet, he was deposed as both Sultan and Caliph by Al Muayyad in Cairo, sparking a new revolt in Damascus in which the city defected to the Timurids. The Governor Nawroz was rewarded by Muhummad Sultan and formally enfeoffed with the territory as a vassal prince.[1] Al Muayyad’s son was slain by the Timurids in 1418 and Al Muayyad himself died childless the following year; were it not for Muhummad Sultan’s own defeat and death at Latin hands, the Timurid Emir likely could have marched to Cairo virtually unopposed and with the Caliph’s blessing. Instead, the Mamluks were left reeling and bloodied, but with the time and space to pull the shattered remnants of their kingdom back from the brink of annihilation, albeit at the ultimate cost of sacrificing their hold over outlying provinces.

    The new Sultan Barsbay had been a subordinate in command of Cairo’s citadel, consolidating his power with sanguine speed through the immediate aftermath of Al Muayyad’s death. He was determined to reclaim the rebellious provinces and drive out the accursed Franks, who had brazenly sacked Alexandria and freely pillaged the Lebanese Coast during the preceding decades of instability. Barsbay began by attacking Cyprus, intending to punish the Latin pirates dwelling on the island and perhaps even to conquer it, but his attack failed due to the arrival of Henry and his Crusaders, and many soldiers and ships were lost in the debacle; Barsbay was only able to retain power through his iron-fisted control over his court, and a not-insubstantial number of executions and exiles.[2] Barsbay additionally faced open revolt in the Hejaz, the province which controlled the Holy Cities of Mecca and Medina, and an outbreak of plague in Egypt, which Barsbay blamed on the Christians and Jews, imposing new punishments upon them.

    It was undoubtedly the arrest and expulsion of Latin- including Venetian- merchants by the Sultan that swayed Venice into backing the Crusader armies. Venetian financial backing enabled Henry to gain control over the Burgundian army after John died of disease during the Siege of Aleppo in 1423, Henry went on to defeat Barsbay’s army at the Battle of Homs, sacking that city and proclaiming himself King of Syria. Barsbay himself was subsequently overthrown in a palace coup and the Mamluks plunged into a brief but brutal succession crisis, which enabled Henry- after capturing Jerusalem- to divert his army into Mesopotamia, allying first with the Kingdom of Georgia against the Timurids and then the Qara Qoyunlu against the remnants of the Jalayrids; Latin soldiers participated in the conquest of Baghdad alongside the Shia Qara Qoyunlu.

    Henry was then diverted by renewed hostilities with the machinations of the Caliph of Damascus, who partnered with the Mamluks after the Emir was defeated and captured by the Latins. Henry and the Mamluk Sultan Yusuf faced each other at Mar Al-Saffar, where a century-and-a-half prior the Mamluks had decisively defeated the Ilkhanate army, ending the Mongol invasion of Syria. Yusuf appreciated his predecessors’ defeats and chose the battleground well- the flat plain to the south of Damascus was bounded to the north by the al-A’waj, to the south by the lava fields of the Lajat. The region was flat and open, perfect ground for cavalry, and Yusuf brought as large a force as he could with him, enough to encircle and destroy the Latins.

    Henry expected the Sultan to seek battle in Al-Saffar, but he did not merely wait. His army managed to outmaneuver the Sultan by following an old Roman road and seize the higher ground above the battleground, turning the strategic flank of the Mamluk forces and forcing Yusuf to make a choice- either to commit to battle on less favorable circumstances or to withdraw. Withdrawal of course was politically impossible- Henry might not be able to siege Damascus, but he could harry its hinterland. Moreover, for the Sultan to withdraw from battle would mean abandoning the Caliph of Islam to the Latins, a loss of face that the Mamluk Sultanate- which already had a tenuous hold over the region- would probably not be able to endure without losing the province entirely. Thus, Yusuf committed to battle, a battle he would lose, although he managed to escape with his life.

    Yusuf’s defeat irrevocably ended Mamluk rule in Syria, but it did not give Syria to the Latins- at least not immediately. The Caliphate had gradually gained in power and influence proportionate to Mamluk decline, but the Caliph by himself could not summon armies into being- much like the Papacy, the Caliph’s authority ultimately depended on his ability to influence the behavior of the Muslim powers; with the Mamluks hostile and in any event militarily supine and the Timurids in freefall, there were no obvious protectors to defend the Caliph. Were it not for their religious difference, Henry probably would have become the new patron of the Caliphate, but instead he could be at best a temporary ally for the nominal ruler of the Dar al-Islam. Henry proclaimed his victory to be the judgment of God and asserted his right to rule over Northern Syria and the old Kingdom of Jerusalem. Damascus itself would remain under the control of the Caliph, but so long as Henry held the field and controlled access to Jerusalem, he could force the Syrians to treat with him on grudgingly equal terms. Like the old Crusader States, he agreed to enter a condominium with Damascus, allowing them to rule over neighboring territory. The Caliph retained control over the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem, and both Christian and Muslim pilgrims in the Holy Land were to be left in peace.

    With Syria more or less pacified, Henry then turned against the Black Sheep Turkmen over territorial disputes and opportunistic raids, working with their rivals, the “White Sheep” Akk Qoyunlu and the resurgent Kingdom of Georgia, to banish the Qara Qoyunlu from western Armenia. By 1430, as the region settled into a weary repose, Henry found himself master of a kingdom encompassing Palestine, Lebanon, and northern Syria, and much of Eastern Anatolia after a subsequent invasion in the fall of 1432. As the King was only thirty-three and in good health, it appeared to his contemporaries that this was hardly the end of his conquests. Henry himself recognized the inherent fragility of his position, but for a time the Latins were perhaps the most significant military power in the Levant, if only due to the temporary weakness of the Muslim powers.

    The growth of both King Ladislao’s “empire” and Henry’s ambitions in the Levant deserves some explanation. Feudalism left behind two institutions that modern states gradually usurped: the Catholic Church, and an aristocratic warrior-elite. By the mid-15th century, the Church was largely suborned by the state, but the nobility remained entrenched and formidable. A professional warrior caste by its nature needed war to prosper. It was these men who filled the ranks of the resurgent Teutonic Order and Knights Hospitaller, the armies of Henry of Lancaster and Ladislao of Thrace, and the territories conquered along the Maghreb littoral by Genoese and Portuguese adventurers. Yet a warrior elite were equally dangerous to their “native” rulers. France had suffered nearly a century of despoilation in no small part due to the inability of either belligerent to restrain roving bands of freebooters, and Germany was to be plagued with “knights’ wars” in the coming decades. Italy- where feudalism was less entrenched- operated differently. The typical feudal barons were less powerful than the clergy and the urban oligarchs; but neither was the typical feudal mindset- chivalric honor- particularly established in Italy, either. Thus, whereas John the Fearless’s murder of his cousin Louis of Orleans plunged France into civil war, Gian Galeazzo Visconti quietly imprisoned and poisoned his uncle and four of his nephews as a mere prelude to consolidating his power, and suffered no immediate consequences- and his children and grandchildren would spend multiple decades alternately marrying and murdering each other. As Italian civilization grew, the prizes they fought over grew as well- whereas their ancestors contested cities, now they fought for kingdoms and empires.

    Venice was confronted with the implosion of her traditional trade partners in the east precisely as the balance of power in Italy turned decisively against her. Joanna, the Queen of Naples, had contented herself with a lax governance of her Kingdom, and diplomatically she had favored a pacific foreign policy, unwilling to try her luck with costly foreign adventures. Venice had assiduously courted the queen and received both diplomatic and commercial concessions- Joanna was more concerned with curtailing Genoese influence in Sicily than pursuing her ephemeral dynastic claims to Albania, and the Doge’s promise of an annual tribute was enough to satisfy her ambitions in that direction. Upon her death in 1428, the throne passed to Giovanni of Sicily, thereby reuniting the shattered kingdom of the Norman Hautevilles for the first time in more than a century. Giovanni’s accession immediately and irrevocably altered Naples’ foreign policy- unlike Joanna, Giovanni was quite friendly with the Genoese, and unlike Joanna, he was inclined towards war.

    King Giovanni was not a man content with greatness bequeathed to him by inheritance- the nominal inheritances of his father and his mother were far broader than Sicily, and he had dreams of conquering an Illyrian Empire, asserting latent Neapolitan claims to Greece, Albania, and Croatia. Before such schemes could bear fruit, however, first he would need to ensure the continuation of his dynasty’s rule in southern Italy. The death of his son and heir Carlo was exceedingly unfortunate, particularly given Carlo’s engagement to the princess Hedwig of Hungary, which had promised to gain for Naples a territorial foothold across the Adriatic and a powerful ally in King Louis. Carlo’s younger daughter- the eldest was already married to the King of Portugal- was hastily betrothed to her first cousin Gian Galeazzo III of Lombardy and proclaimed heiress by the estates of the realm, cementing the alliance between Pavia and Palermo, an alliance that would reforge Visconti Italy into a true dynastic union- an alliance, moreover, clearly aimed against Venice.

    Given the young ages of the parties involved and the intense risk of foreign claimants (principally Aragon or the defunct Angevin line which had folded itself into the French royals), Giovanni additionally contemplated legitimizing his bastard son Enrico and installing him as a bulwark upon the throne of Sicily itself, thereby repartitioning the southern kingdom between two separate lineages. Enrico- a hot-tempered, vivacious, and handsome youth of seventeen- was hardly the worst candidate for a royal heir, particularly in the relatively permissive conjugal climate of Southern Italy where bastards were less frowned upon, but he would not have any relation to the powerful Orsini family of the Queen Consort of Sicily. This was a serious problem, since the Orsini controlled the rich Principality of Taranto and dominated the courtly government in Naples- any arrangement which failed to see Orsini blood intermingled with the royal line was likely to turn the family against the Visconti, precisely at a moment when the Kingdom was under threat from Aragonese pretenders.

    The obvious solution was of course a marriage between Enrico and the Prince of Taranto’s daughter Isabella. There was the minor problem that the two were first cousins through the girl’s mother, who was Enrico’s father’s sister, but this in and of itself was not an insurmountable obstacle so long as the Pope gave a dispensation for the match. Pope Martin V, however, interceded against the King of Naples; he had not approved of the match between Sicily and Lombardy, and he certainly did not approve of the match between Enrico and Isabella. Martin threatened excommunication, and Giovanni threatened war.

    The Pope was viewed in Naples- and perhaps in much of Europe- as the shameless creature of his nephew-in-law, the Visconti Prince of Rome Louis I. Louis was in some ways the polar opposite of the choleric Neapolitan king- where Giovanni was gregarious and impulsive, Louis was taciturn and reserved; where Giovanni was physically imposing but famously impatient with scholars and their ilk, Louis was a famed patron of the arts and a scholar of some merit but is never known to have carried a weapon in anger, much less commanded an army in person. From his perch atop the Capitoline Hill, amid the ruins of Roman glory, Louis dreamed of an imperial restoration, refashioning Rome into a true city of marble and the envy of the world. To achieve this would require gold- a great deal of gold- and he turned inevitably to the Papacy and the Roman Curia to supply the wealth and political clout necessary for his schemes. Louis had taken to Papal politics like a fish to water (or a Pope to wine) and he and his Papal relation together had a solid vise on the city and a firm commitment to a shared vision of Roman rebirth. Such a vision began invariably with the assertion of lapsed Papal rights and privileges in central and southern Italy, and sponsorship of new crusades against the Barbary Corsairs such as the Genoese had precipitated against Tunisia. It was Louis rather than Martin who most stridently opposed the dynastic union of Lombardy and Sicily, for Louis was the true Prince of the former Papal Patrimonium, and like the Popes before him he instinctively recognized that any prospective hegemon on the peninsula would invariably be drawn to seize the Eternal City for themselves.

    Even as he was waging war against one cousin, King Matteo was conspiring to murder another. The King of Lombardy certainly knew that his grandfather had dealt with Bernabo Visconti through a coup de main; Matteo determined to do the same with his Tuscan cousins. Matteo did not initially view the Duke of Tuscany as a threat- he had hoped to overawe Italy with a powerful Hungarian alliance and placate the Tuscans with territorial concessions taken from Matteo’s other enemies- Provence, Sardinia, or Mallorca being the most likely- but Hungary’s failure to materialize a large army in Italy and the invasion of Alfonso V of Aragon triggered the King’s paranoia, and by 1435 he determined to dispose of his Tuscan relation.

    The death of the Count of Bologna with no issue provided the necessary opportunity. Matteo entered Tuscany with an army and in Pisa summoned the relevant claimants- namely, the man’s brothers, the Duke of Tuscany and the Count of Siena- to court. Not suspecting violence, both men arrived to plead their case, and both were seized and imprisoned. It is unclear whether Matteo intended to kill his cousins immediately or merely imprison them to be safely disposed of later, but in the ensuing chaos the Duke was slain; the Count was taken alive and would remain a prisoner for several wretched years. The Duke left behind him three sons and two daughters, none of whom were capable of resisting the King’s armies; indeed, the boys were forced to flee overseas alongside their mother, finding refuge in the court of Alfonso V. The only leader among the Golds capable of meeting the threat was the Margrave of Ivrea, whose son was married to the Duke’s younger daughter Margaret and had already sired a son by her, but the Margrave himself was in Piedmont at the time, and by necessity he attached himself to the Provencal army.

    King Giovanni of Provence’s strategy was simple, if somewhat rash. Unwilling to wait for the uncertain involvement of his brother-in-law Emperor Philip, or on the opposing side Louis of Hungary, he decided to muster his own forces, which were not particularly large and largely consisted of Gascon and German mercenaries. The army crossed the Alps in 1435. Turin opened its gates, and the Green garrison in the citadel was eventually starved out. The army then turned south to attack Liguria. Genoa proper was temporarily besieged, but a full encirclement of the city was of course impossible without a fleet, which the Provencals lacked. The arrival of Matteo’s army forced their withdrawal, which the Lombards were unable to prevent.

    In the meantime, Giovanni of Naples brought his army north with the purpose of seizing Ancona, confronting and routing a Roman army at Fermo in 1436 and overrunning much of the Marche. Ancona had defied both Papal and Princely authority and remained de facto independent, but it now pledged itself to the King of Naples, seeking his aid in attacking the Venetians and wresting control over the Adriatic. Pope Martin had already excommunicated Matteo of Lombardy for his kinslaying, and when Giovanni refused Papal demands to withdraw from Roman territory he too was divorced from the light of the Catholic Church. The King of Naples brought his war fleet north with the intention of embarking forces for an attack on Dalmatia, but the fleet was forced to turn back by a storm. The Neapolitan army determined to march west, to capture the city of Rome and put an end to the threat to Giovanni’s kingdom, but in the end the Roman summer would reap a bloody toll on the Neapolitans. On April 24, 1437, King Giovanni died of dysentery while his army was besieging the city of Spoleto. Giovanni left behind three children, an underage Queen Regnant in Naples and an adult bastard in Sicily.

    Prince Louis’s fortunes changed overnight. Returning to Rome and proclaiming the judgment of God upon his late brother, persuading Pope Martin V to crown Louis the King of Sicily. He signed an accord with Matteo of Lombardy setting their mutual borders- Louis renounced Papal claims on Bologna, which was beyond his control anyway, and in return was accepted as King of Sicily and permitted to recruit soldiers in Tuscany. Matteo was certainly aware that the Tuscans had no love for their Lombard overlords- the local Visconti had entrenched themselves precisely by positioning themselves as champions of Tuscan autonomy- and he feared that Louis and the Papacy could easily spark a revolt in that province if they turned against him. Conversely, Papal blessing and a secure border allowed Matteo to divert his armies elsewhere, and the recruitment of Tuscan soldiers into a Roman army would remove them from his kingdom. Louis won a similar accord from King Giovanni of Provence, who was in no position to press his claim to either Naples or Sicily, and equally valued Papal friendship.

    Alfonso V had in the meantime been temporarily removed from play owing to his failed invasion of Sicily. Initially, at least, Alfonso’s invasion went well- he captured Trapani in May 1436 and then attacked the capital Palermo in August. His army was significantly larger than the Sicilians, but Enrico was desperate and audacious. On September 25, 1436, during revelry of the feast of Saint Eulalia, patron of Barcelona, Enrico’s army- numbering not more than nine hundred- launched a night attack on the Catalan camp in the darkness of the full moon. Alfonso had taken ill the previous day and his lieutenant had not seen fit to prevent the soldiers from celebrating, as the Catalans outnumbered the Sicilians by more than ten to one and had not seen any sign of them; it was alleged later that Enrico had also deceived the king by sending an envoy to negotiate terms, encouraging the Catalans to think that he did not mean to fight. The weather additionally assisted due to cloud cover, and Enrico’s soldiers were able to penetrate into the camp before the alarm was raised. The Catalans were panicked and routed, and in the chaos Alfonso V was captured.

    Alfonso V proved himself magnanimous in defeat. Even with his army scattered, he retained control over western Sicily and much of Sardinia, and his fleet commanded the seas. Moreover, Enrico was not inclined to surrender Alfonso to his father, since he was, perhaps even at this early stage, plotting to overthrow his sister and seize control of the mainland, and in any event saw no profit in allowing his father to negotiate a truce on the back of Enrico’s own victory; as Enrico was already crowned King of Sicily, Giovanni was unwilling to press the point diplomatically, as it was hard for a father to chastise a son for succeeding in precisely the task he had set before his heir. Upon King Giovanni’s demise, Enrico remained in Palermo with King Alfonso his prisoner, and he determined to cast caution to the wind and ally himself with Alfonso V, negotiating a separate release in return for a truce, renunciation of Catalan claims to Sicily, and financial and military support in claiming Naples. To secure the peace, Alfonso’s younger son Ferdinand would become a Latin hostage. Prince Ferdinand would marry the Prince of Taranto’s son, Enrico’s nephew Carlo Antonio. Ostensibly, as the girl’s paternal relation and a nominal king, Enrico had the right to dispose of her hand in marriage, but it was an insult- perhaps calculated- against her father.

    Enrico paid a dear price for his arrogance. His marriage to the Countess Caterina of Taranto was to be held in Naples initially, but the capture of that city by Louis forced Enrico to appear at Taranto itself, securing the allegiance of his son-in-law through a personal appeal and marriage. But the Lord of Taranto had other ideas- he seized upon the excommunication of Enrico to not only break the betrothal but to seize and imprison the groom, delivering him up to Louis of Rome as a prisoner. Truthfully, Enrico had less to offer than the Prince of Rome, since what the Prince truly desired was to remain the power behind the throne of Naples, and a victorious warrior-king could not share power in the same way that an underage queen- who was after all the Prince of Taranto’s niece- and her young betrothed would so rely upon such an eminent figure. Louis had further sweetened the pot with a new marriage for the Countess and his younger son.

    Enrico himself, as a kinsman and anointed king, might have expected some leniency, but he was to meet his end in the square of Naples like the young Conradin of Swabia before him. Before the axe fell, Enrico delivered a curse upon his cousin, asserting that as his own royal blood would spill out onto the cobblestones, their dynasty would in time water the soil of the Kingdom and meet the natural, common end of all kinslaying usurpers. Enrico’s death secured Naples for Louis, and- notwithstanding the audacious escape of Alfonso V’s son, who scaled down the castle walls of Palermo with a smuggled rope- Sicily by and large also bent the knee to Louis, although Catalan holdouts in the western portion of the island and Enrico’s old capital at Syracuse remained defiantly loyal to Alfonso V and it would be some time before they could be subdued.

    Louis’ actions clearly signaled at least a partial break with Matteo, since after all both of their sons could not marry the Queen of Naples. Nevertheless, Louis had timed his treachery well- Matteo was preoccupied with the war in the north, and in no position to contemplate a new front in the south. Louis remained focused on securing Naples and remained carefully aloof from the contest in the north, but he was gradually coming to favor his brother Giovanni of Provence over his ambitious Lombard cousin, and indeed the two were openly contemplating an anti-Lombard alliance partitioning Italy between them.

    Faced with an increasingly difficult position in Italy, Matteo sought a Franco-Lombard alliance with the express goal of invading and partitioning Aragon and entangling France in Italian affairs to his own advantage. The French were promised the reclamation of Montpelier and Narbonne, under Aragonese control since Ferdinand’s expedition in the early 1400s; the independent counties of Bearn and Foix; and, somewhat fancifully, the County of Catalonia, a vestigial French claim nominally surrendered in the 13th century. Aragon itself, and potentially Navarre, were to be offered up to Castille to secure her support or at least acquiescence. Matteo himself claimed the Kingdoms of Valencia and Mallorca, on the dubious basis of the inherited claims of the Duke of Tuscany and his brother (for the latter had, before his death, signed a document ceding his interest in the old Urgell claim); the French thereafter formally acknowledged King Matteo Visconti the Count of Urgell and King of the Baleares.

    This ambitious scheme was largely unworkable under the circumstances. In the first place, France- still languishing under a regency for its young king- was in no position to underwrite an aggressive foreign policy. Nor would the Franco-Lombard alliance count on much local support in Aragon: Princess Margaret’s support, like her brother James before her, was largely concentrated in Catalonia, and the Catalans were unlikely to approve of pawning off their territory to foreigners- to say nothing of the fact that Margaret herself had been made a widow by Matteo, and was now a guest of Alfonso V.

    Far more dangerous was the reality that France could not offer the assistance Matteo desperately needed in Italy itself. Matteo- like his grandfather Gian Galeazzo- overestimated the strength of France and the potential benefits that might accrue through a military alliance with the Valois. The Lombard Visconti were sometimes described as Francophiles, and indeed there is some truth to this allegation. France was still at this time viewed as the natural European hegemon. It was, after all, the Merovingians succeeding Clovis, and the Carolingians succeeding Charlemagne, who had dominated post-Roman Europe; it was the Franks who conquered England, Sicily, and the Levant; it was the French King Philip Augustus who dismantled the Angevin Empire and chastened the German Emperor Otto; it was the French Kings who had captured the Papacy in Avignon; it was the French nobility who invaded Italy under the banner of Orleans; and it was the French which had triumphed in the feud with England, asserting their right to rule over Aquitaine and Gascony. The reign of the Mad King Charles seemed a temporary and rapidly receding setback in the expansion of French power and glory, much as the bloody verdicts of Crecy and Poitiers seemed undone by the later conquests of Charles V. It was not yet obvious that Crecy and Poitiers were- like the victories of the Flemings at the Golden Spurs, the Scots at Bannockburn, the Swiss at Sempach, or the Crusaders at Ankara- omens of the decline of feudal aristocracy and chivalric cavalry, or that the Kingdom of France was ultimately destined merely to be one state among many in Europe, and far from the strongest of these states at that.

    Perhaps peace between England and France was inherently unstable, but John I the Duke of Bourbon, who came to dominate the regency for the sixteen-year-old King Louis XI, certainly did his best to erode the peace. A string of deaths contributed to the slide towards renewed hostilities between France and England. Two royals died in London in the bitter December of 1436- the queen Isabella of England died in childbirth, and the King of Scotland died in captivity. Isabella’s death removed the principal advocate for Anglo-French rapproachment, and the death of the King of Scotland precipitated a serious reappraisal of England’s occupation policy in the Scottish Lowlands.

    The Dunbar family had emerged as the most powerful of the native Scots nobility thanks to the Earl of Dunbar’s defection to the English, but his loyalties were always, at best, limited to his dynasty and at worst to his country, and he was therefore hardly the man to support long-term English subjugation of Scotland. Henry of Lancaster had supported the powerful Percy family and rewarded them with extensive lands in the Scottish Lowlands; truthfully, Henry rather had done nothing to stop the Percies, since in the final analysis the powerful Northumbrian family was the principal engine of the conquest, particularly under its brash but talented new lord, the famed “Hotspur” of Percy, now in his sixties.[3] As far as he was able, Henry had attempted to curtail the seemingly unbridled expansion of Hotspur’s dynasty, but such efforts were ultimately both ineffectual and counterproductive, and Hotspur had been one of Edward III’s firmest supporters against the Lancastrian Regency, being rewarded with further honors and lands. The expansion of Percy power necessarily came at the expense of both the Neville family in Northumbria and the Dunbars in Scotland; it was a relatively minor land dispute with the latter which sparked a general conflagration in Scotland.

    Edward marched north with his army to restore order and confronted the Scots alongside the Percies. The Scots had rarely distinguished themselves well in open battle against the full might of England, and this occasion was to prove no different. The Scots attempted to repeat their success at Bannockburn by fighting in a narrow defile, but the English had archers and- a novelty on the British isles- cannons and arquebusiers, and their greater numbers and discipline carried the field.

    In the wake of the battle, Edward set about reorganizing Scotland with a clear intention to establish permanent English control. The Dunbar estates were seized and granted to his younger son, the new King of Scotland Richard, and parcelling out Scottish estates to English landowners. This policy was strikingly reminiscent of how Edward II had handled Wales after its conquest. As in Wales, the problem of absentee landlords would eventually cause serious unrest, but in the short run the policy ensured that the nobility’s estates would be too diffuse to pose a serious threat to the monarchy. In the context of the Plantagenet Dynasty, granting Scotland to a second son rather than the crown prince- albeit probably politically necessary to appease the Scots- suggested that the English were prepared to accept nominal Scottish independence, so long as Scotland was de facto under English influence, but independence also meant that Scotland was now free, in theory, to chart her own course in Europe.

    One further consequence of Edward’s reorganization was the alienation of the Northumbrian lords. Edward had deliberately avoided further aggrandizing either the Percy or Neville families, instead trying to keep as many lands as he could under the control of his younger son and other lords. Edward had re-established the Duchy of York under a third son, denying the ambitions of both the Percy and Neville families to acquire the estates. While the two families had traditionally been rivals, the marriage of Hotspur’s heir Henry Percy to Elizabeth Neville signalled a shift, as the Northumbrian lords now increasingly found themselves united in the face of an overbearing monarch in London.

    None of this was welcome to Emperor Philip of Lorraine, who now found his pan-European imperial policy unraveling on all fronts. Philip had interceded diplomatically in Poland against the House of Luxemburg, spurred by growing Dutch commercial ties to the Baltic littoral and the liminal legal status of the Prussian and Livonian estates. Prussia had been dissolved as a legal entity after its conquest and split into four voivodeships by the Polish crown, but the regional ties of the German nobles and burghers coalesced into a Prussian Confederation, an attempt to force the Polish crown to recognize the regional autonomy. This eventually culminated in a general revolt which split the region.

    Eric and his predominately Swedish army landed in Pomerania in late 1436 and captured the city of Stettin, previously held by a prince-bishopric as an Imperial vassal. Since the purpose of the war was, from Eric’s perspective, not merely to prop up an independent Lithuania but also to expand his influence over the Baltic, he hoped to secure Prussia and Pomerania as well as the Livonian territories in the east. Louis’ capture of Danzig the previous Summer eliminated the obvious destination, but Eric was unwilling to simply leave, since he sought to lay claim to all of Pomerania and support the Askanier claims to Brandenburg, limiting Luxemburg influence in the Baltic region. Eric’s army determined to march overland back through to Holstein, a show of force meant to demonstrate the seriousness of Eric’s claim to Pomerania and the infirmity of Luxembourg power.

    Louis reacted swiftly to the Danish invasion. Having already confronted and defeated Skirgaila, Louis then determined to confront Eric personally with what forces he could muster. By necessity, Louis could not and did not bring most of his forces to bear, but his army was still larger than Eric’s and managed to outmaneuver him, forcing a confrontation near

    Eric’s victory ultimately gained him comparatively little- he had succeeded in humiliating and capturing Louis, but the King’s stubbornness vexed negotiations, Louis reputedly telling Eric that “he [the King of Hungary] should sooner die than compromise the crown which was his birthright, for God had not bequeathed him such estates to rule in eternity, but to safeguard for the Church, his people, and his dynasty.” Louis flatly refused to part with any Polish or Hungarian territory, but he was more willing to cede territory outside either kingdom. Eric finally secured the concession of Pomerania and Livonia, as well as dominion over Trakai in Lithuania, and a massive indemnity; to further cement the peace, Eric’s daughter, the Princess Margaret, agreed to marry Louis’ eldest son and heir Sigismund.

    The battle had the further consequence of forcing Louis to compromise with the Latins to meet his exorbitant ransom payments and rebuild his shattered army. Diverted additionally by the necessity of occupying Bohemia after the death of his cousin King Charles, and raids from the Crimean Tatars in the east, Louis agreed to marry his daughter Hedwig to the heir of Ladislao of Thrace, ceding control over southern Bulgaria and settling a common border between the two powers. Hungarian control over Bulgaria had never been particularly firm, and Ladislao’s invasion and occupation of Macedonia had demonstrated the region to be more of a liability than an asset to Hungary. By the concordat, the two Kings agreed to a mutual border which acknowledged Hungarian control over Moldova and Wallachia, including the Dobruja, northern Serbia and the principality of Vidin in northwest Bulgaria. By secret terms of the treaty, Louis gained a promise of Ladislao’s support in conquering Genoese Crimea. Ladislao, unlike Louis, had a fleet, which would be invaluable to subduing Latin holdings along the Black Sea.

    King Louis’ own career demonstrates the shifting nature of Kingship in this era. Louis retained control over Galicia-Volhyna and sought to abrogate the privileges extended to the nobility in that province and he governed it according to the more autocratic style then emerging in Hungary. Louis was attempting, in effect, to revive the atavistic notion of feudal authority and give it teeth. In both Carolingian France and Ottonian Germany the great dukes had ostensibly been appointed by the king. The legalistic insistence on the Royal Prerogative- the seemingly meaningless oath that Louis and his heirs demanded of his nobles, arguably redundant given traditional notions of homage- may not have been particularly pertinent to the immediate situation, yet it was to have its own consequences- the King was, in legal theory, the absolute ruler and the sole legal font of authority, wealth, property, or prestige, and as the Luxemburg Empire consolidated this very theory served as the backdrop for the encroachment of royal bureaucrats on noble affairs.

    Emperor Philip was obliged to follow Eric of Pomerania’s lead, and he bowed to the inevitable and lifted the imperial ban on Louis. Philip was certainly displeased with the result, as Louis had effectively forced the Emperor to accept him as an equal; Louis now de facto controlled two Electoral votes, outmatching Philip’s own vote and matching the Visconti, which were fighting between themselves. It was clear that the Emperor needed to intercede personally in Italy to stabilize the situation for himself and his faltering international coalition, and one of the concessions he did wrest from Louis was a pledge not to intercede in Italy without the Emperor’s express approval. The worth of this oath would shortly be tested.

    Renewed war in France was under the circumstances especially unwelcome to the Emperor because Philip wanted to focus his attentions in support of his brother-in-law Giovanni of Provence against Matteo of Lombardy. Such an intercession, however, would first require Philip to weigh in on the crisis to his western border, and that in turn first required him to declare for one side or the other. This was not as straightforward a proposition as it seemed at first glance; Lorraine had little to gain from joining either France or England and potentially much to lose from any serious shift in the balance between the two rivals.

    Philip was personally sympathetic to the French and considered a peaceful and friendly France a key cornerstone of his foreign policy, but the collapse of his supporters’ party in Paris had struck a dangerous nerve, especially as the Duke of Bourbon had made clear he viewed Picardy and Burgundy as French fiefs. Ultimately Lorraine simply had more to gain from partnering with England and far more to lose by turning against their major export partner, especially since Edward was prepared to act ostensibly as a guarantor of Aquitaine’s autonomy rather than as a conqueror per se. Edward’s government had little popular support for a general resumption of the war in France and was anxious to ensure at least the benevolent neutrality of Burgundy, who could be a formidable opponent if Philip sided with his Valois cousins. Of course, England’s claim to the French throne could not easily be discarded without placing England’s continental allies on the legally murky ground of nominal insurrection against their de jure liege lord in Paris. King Edward attempted to orchestrate a face-to-face meeting with the Emperor in order to press his case personally, but while this was not accomplished, his appeal for Imperial mediation and offer of the English Princess Catherine for Philip’s young heir Charles were both readily accepted. The French in contrast could offer little and in fact offered less- the Emperor was uninterested in further territorial expansion to his west, and in any event Prince John of Touraine was not inclined to return Nevers. So long as the French were set on war with England, Philip of Lorraine would be set against them in turn; the revival of militantly revanchist French royal power was simply not in his interests.

    Affairs in Brittany precipitated Emperor Philip’s formal break with the French throne. In his youth, Duke John V of Brittany had married a daughter of the mad King Charles and had generally taken a pro-French stance to placate his nominal liege lord. Nevertheless, the canny and careful duke had tacked his sails carefully, and he had married one daughter to John of Bedford, the brother and putative heir to Henry of Aquitaine, and another to Antoine, heir to the Duchy of Brabant and nephew of Emperor Philip; a third was pledged to the King of Castille, a longstanding French ally, ensuring that Brittany would have powerful relations to balance against Paris should the need arise. And the need, indeed, arose, owing to the intrigues of the House of Penthievre and John’s lack of male children.

    John V’s father, John IV, had decisively defeated and slain Charles of Blois in 1364, ending the War of the Breton Succession with a victory for the House of Montfort. By the Treaty Guerande in 1365, the Penthievres had formally renounced their claims on the Duchy, albeit it was promised that should the House of Montfort fail to produce a male heir that Brittany would pass to the Penthievres. Despite the treaty, the House of Penthievre continued to agitate for their rights in Brittany. The redoubtable Marguerete carried the hatreds of her house in her heart until the bitter end and inculcated her sons with a firm conviction that they were the true rulers of Brittany. The Penthievres remained the largest landowners in Brittany apart from the Dukes, holding extensive estates in the north and in the valley of the Vendee in the east, and in partnership with the hawks in Paris now sought to press their claims to the duchy.

    Edward IV had made clear to both Paris and Antwerp that he intended to support both the Breton duke and his cousin the new Duke of Aquitaine if it came to open war. Edward did not totally disavow the old peace, but- asserting that the French were violating its terms- he asserted that unless his cousin was permitted to rule Gascony “as his forefathers did” then neither he nor Edward would accept French suzerainty over Aquitaine. Edward went a step further than any of his predecessors and asserted direct English sovereignty over the Duchy of Brittany, citing its prior history as a quasi-autonomous principality and France’s refusal to discuss the matter in negotiations. This fairly shameless legal land-grab was clearly an attempt to bypass the difficult issue that the Duke was nominally a traitor in Paris’s eyes by his pact with the Plantagenets, ensure English control over the succession, and prevent the Duchy from slipping into Paris’s orbit. Edward’s focus on Brittany reflected a more circumspect political situation in England, which was mainly preoccupied with maintaining the lucrative wine trade with Bordeaux and preventing the French from asserting full control over either Brittany or Flanders, maritime provinces of crucial strategic significance to England. Thus it was inevitable that Edward’s army would land in Brittany, which it did in late May 1438 and- in conjunction with the Duke- seized the city of Saint Malo, a port city occupied by the Kings of France. In the south, Duke Thomas followed Edward’s party line and abrogated his oaths to Paris; in response, he was declared a traitor and his estates proscribed. Emperor Philip, with some reluctance, declared war on France, and raised the armies of Lorraine against his cousins.

    [1]The Mamluk Sultanate was even more of a mess than I realized, and in retrospect I could have plausibly had a Timurid conquest in the first decade of the 15th century; that being said, historically Nawroz was put to death by the Sultan in Cairo, but here he survives and- under the aegis of the Timurids- is able to make himself the de facto ruler of Syria.

    [2]Historically, Barsbay successfully launched several raids against Cyprus, even capturing the King, but due to Venetian mediation was satisfied with tribute and nominal vassalage. Here, even this is denied to him, owing to the substantial Latin presence.

    [3]To review, Henry of Lancaster merely overthrew Richard II but did not become king due to Richard having an underage son. This put the English monarchy on a different (and somewhat firmer) political foundation, and that in turn prevented the OTL Percy Rebellion. Of course, one could argue- and indeed, I would argue- that the Percies being cut down to size was beneficial for the Lancastrian regime; aggrandizing the family with Scottish lands is perhaps not the best recipe for long-term stability, as we’ll see.
     
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    Let Them Grow Gills
  • Let Them Grow Gills

    When Edward IV disembarked on the craggy, windswept shores of Brittany in 1438, he was commanding the first English army in France since 1382, following the footsteps of the men of his grandfather’s generation. England’s stunning victories at Crecy and Poitiers had established England as a premier military power. Yet a sword left unused tends to dull and rust, and England had been at peace abroad for two generations. While England had blooded herself against revolts in Wales and raids from Scotland, such predominately asymmetric and colonial warfare was hardly comparable to the titanic clash of kings or the grindingly unglamorous war of sieges and supply lines. The French had reversed post-Poitiers English gains in Gascony over the course of five years by avoiding battle wherever possible, relying upon their superior numbers and above all deeper pockets to grind down the English; English rule in any case had never been particularly welcome beyond the Atlantic provinces, and those provinces were dangerously exposed by the entry of Castille, contributing to the fall of La Rochelle in 1372.

    Edward was in a sense chasing ghosts, the specter of a now-bygone era of chivalry, an age that was already passing at the close of the previous century- for England’s victories were if nothing else mortal wounds to the body of chivalric warfare- and would recede fretfully over the following decades as aristocratic privilege buckled and bent before the torrential outpour of royal firepower.

    France too was chasing her own specters- the specter of French royal prestige and dynastic glory, the increasingly nominal suzerainty over the western, southern, and eastern provinces. France’s monarchs ruled an ungainly colossus, claiming unrestricted power but always fretful of its limitations. France, too, had receded, her borders and ambitions fraying in the harsh light of reality, the pressing insistence of the wolves and vipers at her doorstep. Where once Philip Augustus had deigned to balance Europe on his lance, now the young Charles sought only to chasten his wayward vassals, and he would be chastened in turn by his own Imperial cousin, equal in royal dignity and superior in wealth and talent. Military victory proved no less hollow for the French than for the English; her realm despoiled and divided, her farthest frontiers torn from tepid fingers by the circling wolves, her very heart worn and weary and riven with internal strife and violent recrimination. France’s aristocracy desperately needed a victory on the field of battle, longed for the glory won by their English rivals and cousins generations ago; nothing less could justify their pretensions to power. Such delusions carried great dangers- the danger of defeat and dishonor, hidden like rocks beneath the tempestuous waves of history.

    France’s military strategy, such as it was, must by necessity have been to seek out and destroy at least one of her many enemies before they could all join together, and the English army was for various reasons the obvious choice to engage first. Edward’s army was smaller, more aggressive against French territory, and more offensive to French pride than Philip’s cumbersome Imperial coalition. He was also the first in the field, and the most likely to support the “rebellion” of his cousin John of Aquitaine. If the Duke of Bourbon could defeat Edward in battle, it would be much easier to force John to submit, and Philip in turn would find it difficult to keep the field alone without a clear military or political objective.

    Edward IV was not initially inclined to sate French desires for open battle, but the situation did not develop to his advantage. Edward by necessity could not simply remain in Brittany; he had arrived, not merely to assert his dynastic suzerainty over the same province, but also to support his family’s ancient rights in Gascony. Nor were Edward’s funds without limit- an army in the field was an expensive undertaking, one quite uncomfortable to an England grown fat on the riches of peace, and neither Edward nor his banners feared a clash of arms more than the ire of their own exchequer. Edward likely entertained delusions of reviving his lapsed claim to France, or at least reasserting English suzerainty over Gascony- he had intimated the possibility in his correspondence with John and the House of Lancaster at least staunchly supported the King’s ambitions in the south, as they had since John of Gaunt’s career alongside the Black Prince. While Philip’s staunch diplomatic pressure had prevented this from occurring immediately, a military victory obviously would reinforce England’s pretensions, demonstrating the verdict of God. A joining of his army with John’s was therefore politically if not strategically necessary, and an invasion of Poitou the obvious follow-up; battle would not be scorned by Edward, even if he protested that he did not seek it out.

    Edward and his advisors seriously underestimated the implications of twenty years of peace had reaped for France and failed to appreciate that their ancestors’ victories had turned entirely on France’s political implosion. The French administration had never been particularly deft in its governance of the vast kingdom, but it had never needed to be, and with two generations of peace the wounds left by the war in Languedoc and elsewhere had faded, reaping immediate benefits for the fiscal administration of the kingdom. Edward’s army- less than 15,000- was substantially outnumbered by the largest French army in a century, commanded by Charles I the Duke of Bourbon, a man in the prime of his life but given to the passions of youth if not their follies. Charles wanted a battle, and he would get it near Saintes.

    The French initially planned for three armies- one to attack Calais and ward off the Emperor, one to attack Gascony in the south, and one to confront the English in Brittany. In the event only two armies were raised. John of Touraine, the Duke of Orleans and the King’s twenty-seven-year-old uncle, commanded the northern army, which made an ultimately unsuccessful attempt against Calais and was eventually forced to withdraw by Emperor Philip’s invasion of Picardy. The larger force was raised by Charles in the south, consisting primarily of the levies of his own dominions in the Bourbonais but also drawing heavily on the Languedoc. Charles had initially planned an invasion of Burgundy, but the fall of St Malo and a Gascon raid against Poitiers convinced him to muster his forces and head west instead to confront the ancestral enemy. Having failed to reach the river Charente before Edward, Charles decided to goad the English into battle by besieging the Gascon holding of Angouleme.

    Charles’s fortified siege camp gave his army an incredible defensive advantage, and his army was larger. Yet Edward had presumptively committed to battle, believing that Charles’ army was smaller than it was and that it was retreating to meet the Burgundian threat. In reality, Charles had simply banished the camp followers from his siege lines, and the English had only encountered and routed a smaller scouting force; Edward made a fatal mistake by refusing to wait for his cousin’s reinforcements from Gascony, but he was goaded by his own intemperate pride and the awareness that Angouleme would sue to surrender if it was not promptly relieved.

    Despite being outnumbered and outranged by the French siege guns, the English took the better part of a day to batter themselves to pieces against the French lines. Edward himself was slain by an arquebusier, and nearly five thousand Englishmen perished in the mud; with them died the mythos of English military supremacy. Charles, however, was in no position to celebrate. His own army, badly blooded, now learned that Emperor Philip had entered France in force, routing the Duke of Orleans and capturing Paris. The Burgundians still had friends within the city and King Louis XI determined to throw off the governance of his cousins and appeal to the Emperor for mercy, a plea Emperor Philip was more than willing to indulge. Faced with the combined wrath of his sovereign, the Emperor, and the Pope, Charles and his victorious army were forced to set aside their arms; they were not welcomed as triumphal heroes, but skulked back into Paris. For Philip had no intention of allowing the French to profit from their triumph, and he had the excuse of restoring order in France and the truce with England.

    Duke John of Aquitaine gained the fullness of his forefather’s right, albeit in slightly different territories- Angouleme and Saintonge were surrendered to the crown, but Toulouse and Languedoc were incorporated into Gascony. Both Aquitaine and Brittany were guaranteed independence from royal taxation and the right to have their own judicial administration, and both were granted solemn privileges of maintaining their own laws and customs in their territories. Both terms were principally intended to resolve the matter via the facts on the ground, obviating the necessity of Philip having to engage in any additional campaigning in France. The appeals of Philip’s brother-in-law Giovanni of Provence echoed across the Alps with increasing desperation and frequency, like smoke from the burning bonfires trailing Matteo’s army through Italy.

    Although Azzone enjoys (and enjoyed) greater attention and appreciation for his many wars and triumphs, arguably his nephew Matteo of Lombardy was the greatest military mind to bear the arms of the Visconti Viper. Matteo was, according to one contemporary, “as cunning as his grandfather, but bold where the elder was cautious.” The viper of Milan had finally stirred and bared its fangs, and in centuries to come Europe would learn to fear the Lombard legions under whichever banner they marched.

    Louis of Rome was the first to feel Lombard wrath. All expected Matteo’s efforts to initially focus on either Venice or Provence. All underestimated the size of Matteo’s armies and his aggressive demeanor. Matteo had inherited a lush treasury largely unworn by war. Lombardy had broadly stood aside from Azzone’s campaigns, and while Azzone had attempted to dip into his nephew’s royal treasury the Dowager Queen Sophia of Bavaria had allied with the Lombard Senate and cities to claw back their own wealth and ensure it remained within Pavia’s control. Matteo himself was administratively brilliant and had parsimoniously nurtured the bureaucratic state in his kingdom; consequently, by the time of the War of the Vipers he was one of the richest men in Europe, and certainly the richest of the Visconti. That wealth, and Lombardy’s sizable population and industrial production, enabled him to field two separate armies, one to defend the north against any possible intrusion of either Venice or Burgundy and the other to sweep south and dethrone his cousin Louis.

    Matteo had shrewdly anticipated that Venice and Provence would be unlikely to take the initiative on their own, and also that Philip would be diverted by events in France; he judged, correctly, that in 1438 he could act without fear of foreign intervention. Thus, he left enough soldiers under his great general Enrico de Parma to guard the mountain passes in Piedmont and personally took his army along the Via Cassia. An advance east would have made him vulnerable to being caught between Venice, the rebellious lords in the Emilia-Romagna, and the Romans, the only route home back across potentially hostile lands. Thus, passage through Tuscany was the obvious choice.

    Matteo’s decision to strike inland was a somewhat more unorthodox choice originating in political concerns. Pisa had proved rather more quiescent to Pavian control, but Florence still defied him; the Via Cassia took him away from the sea (and Genoese support) but towards the walls of Florence, which was besieged in late 1438. Matteo had fled Tuscany with his captive cousin in the face of Florence’s defiance, and now he would exact his revenge upon the upstart city in person. Florence fell and was subject to a forced dispersal of its ruling population, who were forcibly relocated back to Pavia; Lombard colonists were installed in and around Florence to rule the city as a county in personal union with the crown.

    Matteo’s decision to besiege Florence incited a panic in both Rome and Naples. Louis was forced to divert from his campaign against the Catalans in Sicily to rush north with his army. He arrived in Rome to find Pope Martin V had died and a Venetian- Eugene IV- on the Throne of St. Peter. Born to a wealthy Venetian merchant family, he nevertheless had earned a reputation for personal austerity and generosity, being both a famed patron of the poor and also a bitter opponent of the naked Colonna domination of the city and Church of Rome. His election was therefore a rude surprise to Louis, who depended on the Colonna for support; Louis arrested Pope Eugene IV on the incredible grounds that the Pope had made himself a heretic by interfering in the secular government of the Roman principality (that this “interference” was in effect a sweeping anti-corruption campaign was irrelevant). Louis was master of Rome, but unlike his father was at best a king, and one nominally beholden to the Pope at that; that he had conspired with the prior Pope to murder one cousin and abduct another and nominally pledged himself a vassal of the same was especially egregious, even for a Visconti, and the entire sordid affair was mercilessly mocked across Europe. Louis had a potential friend in Philip of Burgundy, but his unilateral action could readily be construed as a usurpation of imperial prerogatives vis a vis the Church and Papacy, and Philip’s reaction to the coup de main (or even if and when he would in fact get around to invading Italy) were totally unknown. Far more dangerously, Eugene’s supporters succeeded in smuggling a message to Matteo, promising him the throne of Sicily if he would free the Pope and end Louis’ tyrannical reign.

    Louis’ position in Rome became untenable the moment word of Matteo’s army reached the city; the Colonna were deeply unpopular while Eugene was quite beloved, and Louis, lacking an alternative, finally appealed to Pope Eugene and pleaded with him to mediate. Eugene was willing to comply, for a price- the restoration of the Papal State.

    This arguably a bridge too far for Louis, and indeed it is not certain that the staunchly orthodox Eugene would have so openly broached the core tenet of the Council of Basel [check] on his own initiative. At most, under explicit church doctrine (newly minted doctrine though it was), Eugene might seek secular enfeoffment from the Emperor; potentially, Eugene could argue for his investiture at another ruler’s hands, say that of King Louis, but this was more dubious. Nevertheless, this was the arrangement more-or-less forced on the bemused Eugene by a desperate Louis, who felt the cloth shield of the Papacy might do what diplomacy alone could not, and divert the Lombards from Naples and Rome.

    In the event, the moment he regained his freedom Pope Eugene IV defected to the Greens. Proclaiming Louis Visconti a kinslaying usurper and tyrant, he excommunicated the Prince of Rome and exhorted the Lombards to undertake a Crusade to free Naples. After contemptuously routing Louis’ hastily assembled army, Matteo entered Rome as a liberator, to cries of “Imperator Romanorum” and “Rex Omnes Italiae,” and received the crown of Sicily from Pope Eugene IV’s hands in the Basilica of St. Peter.

    Like Louis before him, Matteo’s next obvious step was to seize Naples, disposing of Louis (who had fled Rome rather than resist from behind the Aurelian Walls after learning of his army’s defeat) and capturing the nine-year-old Princess Charlotte (1430-), who had inherited the claim to Naples after her elder sister Joanna III died giving birth to Louis’ grandsons Carlo Galeazzo and Louis in 1436. In the event he captured Naples but not his cousins- Louis abandoned Naples along with his family and treasury, fleeing to Palermo where he hoped to rebuild his fortunes.

    Louis was already in poor health and the bitter voyage from Naples broke him. Whether due to stress, disease, poison, or the wrath of God, Louis the Prince of Rome died in Palermo on February 1, 1439. He had tried and failed to negotiate a new alliance with Alfonso V of Aragon, the only power in a position to salvage Louis’ crumbling kingdom, but Alfonso V had died earlier that year and his sons were too busy quarreling over their inheritance to intervene in Italy. In any event, Giovanni Antonio Orsini had other plans, plans which did not include Louis or Louis’ young heirs. The Lord of Taranto had betrayed one Visconti to another; now he did the same to Louis’ heirs. Conveniently, Louis’ excommunication provided the perfect pretext, as Enrico’s excommunication had earlier; Louis was imprisoned and executed in Naples, following the path to the headsman’s axe that Enrico of Sicily had fallen two years prior.

    While Prince Louis’ death was possibly foreordained, the subsequent disappearance and probable murder of the two young princes was a gruesome exigency even by the standards of the day. Neither prince’s remains would be discovered with certainty but given the realities of the age their disappearance was almost certainly fatal. Matteo had not expressly ordered the deaths and indeed he would publicly mourn his cousins, but it is likely that Matteo had a role in the matter or was at least believed to have done so, as his public display of repentance that December intimated.

    The matter of Princess Charlotte’s marriage was equally ambiguous in fact if less certain in truth; Matteo naturally asserted his own right to dispose of her hand and was not prepared to entertain the delusions of Prince Giovanni Antonio of Orsini, who had married a bastard daughter of Azzone Visconti and was likely aiming to marry the legitimate granddaughter of the last Angevin Queen of Naples to his own son or grandson. Nevertheless, Matteo- and Pope Eugene IV- strongly pressured against the match. Pope Eugene was in correspondence with the Orsini and intimated that he would approve the match, but that he could not approve a match of a young child; the implication being that he could not yet break openly with Matteo of Lombardy and was urging the Orsini to be patient. Giovanni Antonio came to the same conclusion and accepted the compromise, and a solemn oath was made that the Queen would not marry before her age of majority and not without the approval of all three men or their successors.

    This was at best a temporary expedient for all three men, but especially King Matteo, whose hand was forced by news of the arrival of the Burgundians into Italy. In the event this was not a full Imperial army, but Philip had dispatched soldiers to support the Ivrean attempt to reclaim Piedmont as a preliminary to his planned invasion of Italy the following year. Margrave Emmanuel II of Ivrea succeeded in routing the Lombard force guarding the Valley of Aosta and reclaimed Turin.

    Once again Matteo demonstrated his military and administrative acumen. He procured ships from both Genoa and Naples- financed by the Pope- and shipped his army back north in record time. Disembarking at Genoa, he rallied his supporters in Piedmont and defeated the Ivreans at the Battle of Susa, executing Emmanuel as a traitor after he was captured. Matteo then turned east and overran the Veneto. He was irked by the sudden departure from the war of his Bavarian allies, owing to the death of the elderly Duke William and the repartitioning of Bavaria between five separate sons. However, Matteo did enjoy the sudden support of the Swiss, who feared Burgundy and Provence and were bound by common interests in the trans-Alpine trade, therefore abandoning their previous alliance with Venice and defecting from the Blues to the Greens.

    With Swiss assistance Matteo captured Verona, Padua, and the Trentino, and then seized Friuli with the assistance of Aquileia, a longstanding rival to Venice which took the opportunity to revolt. Matteo also secured the defection of the powerful Duke of Ferrara, Niccolo III Este, who gained the city of Padua for accepting once again the suzerainty of his liege and abandoning the Venetians to their fate. Matteo’s efforts to sway the Gonzaga of Mantua, however, were less successful; the Margrave of Mantua Gianfrancesco Gonzaga was bound by blood to the rebellious Ivreans, and further trusted the loyalty of his city and the stoutness of his walls, bounded on four sides by artificial lakes and made a decadent redoubt of Renaissance culture on the banks of the Mincio.

    Matteo was further stymied from his planned siege of Venice itself by the diversion of the Genoese fleet to the reconquest of Sassari from the Catalans, and the death of his greatest ally Louis of Hungary. Louis’ heir Sigismund had a very different conception of royal power and his own interests. Born and raised in Poland, his ambitions lay securely north towards the Baltic, east towards Russia and west into Germany; in his eyes, the Adriatic was an expensive and unwelcome diversion. Sigismund’s first campaign was against the resurgent rebels in Lithuania and Ruthenia, who took the opportunity of the royal succession to launch a heretical uprising.

    Sigismund wanted Papal support to sanction a Crusade, and he also wanted to encourage the Latins to abandon Genoese colonies in Crimea; failing that, Venice was the obvious ally to assist in destroying Genoese power in the Black Sea. He was therefore prepared to part with Croatia, which was never particularly loyal to the Luxemburgs, in return for a royal match and an alliance with Naples. His daughter Elizabeth was married to Giovanni Antonio’s younger son and proclaimed Queen of Croatia; this was as much an attempt to weaken Thracian encroachment on the region as an attempt to intercede diplomatically in Italy, since Ladislao’s armies had crossed into Bosnia and were threatening to pry away both Croatia and Serbia from the Hungarian orbit; Ladislao had claimed both Naples and Croatia as his birthright, effectively declaring war on both Hungary and Sicily. Under the circumstances Ladislao was a serious threat that could not be easily or quickly countered. Sigismund II [check] was fully preoccupied by the simmering unrest in Lithuania. Lithuania was not capable of offering conventional military resistance- and after [Jagellonian dude] died alongside most of his army, the rebels did not try to do so. Instead, much like Owen Glendower’s revolt in Wales, the Lithuanians coalesced under the nominal leadership of a minor noble and engaged in a brutal insurgency against the Polish occupiers. Polish settlers were attacked in their homes and manors, ransomed or killed; crops were burned, towns pillaged, and isolated patrols attacked by fighters who melted into the countryside. Sigismund’s armies were able to move freely only in large numbers, and control shrunk to the boundaries of castle or city walls. Poland eventually stamped out the revolt, but it would preoccupy Sigismund’s attentions for many years to come.

    Venice had in the meantime allied with Louis of Rome and transferred her diplomatic allegiance to the Orsini as well as fastidiously courting her native son Pope Eugene IV. Giovanni Antonio could not afford to alienate the Venetians, since they could easily ally with one of his enemies- including Ladislao- and attempt to dethrone him. Conversely, Venice had no desire to see Ladislao’s empire span the Adriatic and was increasingly inclined to see Visconti power destroyed as a matter of principle. Consequently, Venice purchased the rights to the Duchy of Dalmatia from “Queen Elizabeth” of Croatia and her Orsini consort. Yet a title was not enough to guarantee dominion, and Venice was confronted with the dangerous possibility of a revolt of the Dalmatian cities. In order to meet this threat, Francesco Foscari, rival to the current Doge Pietro Loredan[1], was dispatched an ambassador to open negotiations; if the rebellion could not be stopped, then at least it could be delayed.

    The fundamental difficulty which forced the shrewdly revolutionary bargain struck at Pola was the alienation of the elites outside of Venice from the elites within Venice itself. Venice had subjugated Dalmatia with the goal of eliminating a local competitor. Of course, the suppression of Dalmatian commerce also suppressed the revenues and power of the Dalmatian oligarchs. Lacking representation or any formal legal ties to Venice- for they were not citizens of any republic, while their own republic was a colony of another, stronger rival- they identified solely with their own city and exploited every opportunity to break the control of the Venetians.

    Venice had periodically suppressed these cities while she was strong, but Venice was now weak. Yet the cities could not readily throw off Venetian control, either, if only because they faced prospective suzerains on all sides and could not choose between one without becoming the enemy of the others. While Matteo sympathized with their plight, he could not support them militarily and had no legal claim to the territory; while Croatia’s nominal Queen was allied through her Neapolitan husband to Venice, she refused to support Dalmatian independence; and while Ladislao of Thrace claimed Croatia, he was the enemy of Naples- which had a fleet and would probably fight alongside Venice if Dalmatia betrayed their sovereign.

    Thus, with some incredulity King Sigismund of Hungary received the desperate pleas of the Dalmatians, to retake his Croatian crown and rule them as their king, save for the minor condition that he protect Dalmatia from each, any, and every one of the Latins, even if it meant war against all of Italy and potentially France and the Empire too. There was thus no power in Europe that was willing and able to liberate Dalmatia as had happened in the past.

    Moreover, the Dalmatian cities could read the room as readily as anyone else. Venice may have been in a period of relative weakness, but she was in a broad arc of waxing strength. Half a century prior, an alliance of Genoa, Austria, and Hungary had penetrated into the very heart of the lagoon, and the Black Death had decimated Venice’s population; Venice had survived (to say nothing of winning) only by the skin of her teeth. Within a generation, however, Venice’s victory became a seemingly effortless rebirth- the city expanded into Northern Italy alongside the Lombards and diverted the Visconti Emperor and Hungary against the Turks and the Timurids, protecting and expanding her empire both at home and abroad. Venice was now the only free city in Italy and a peer competitor to the mighty Visconti and Luxembourgs, the bastion of Republican Liberty, Prosperity, Culture, and Virtue. Even if the cities managed to pry themselves free of Venice, they quietly doubted that it would be enough to revive their fortunes.

    Moreover, it was not obvious that a Dalmatian Revolt would even be successful. Venice was weak, not supine, and could likely defeat any one of the individual cities even if she could not defeat all of them together. None of the cities could countenance a war in which, even if the Venetians did not win, the Dalmatians would certainly lose.

    The people of Fiume were the first to consider the alternative of negotiating with Venice, perhaps due to despising Trieste and Zara as much as they despised the Venetians. What Fiume- and all the other cities wanted- was a share of the lucrative commerce of the east now being increasingly monopolized by the Serene Republic. As independent city-states, they could, in theory, try to muscle in on the region yet- as Foscari shrewdly reminded them- they would hardly have better luck at competing with Venice than the Genoese. The Fiumans rejoined to him that they might do no better than Genoa, but no worse either- for like Genoa, they could find a strong protector in an inland king, perhaps a Viper of Milan, even- and in any case the people of Fiume had more to offer than just their continued love and friendship to buy their way into money and power. For Fiume had merchants and shipwrights of her own, and her vessels had never been attacked by the many belligerents of the east- everyone feared Venice too greatly to risk attacking her subjects, and Venice’s enemies in any event largely hoped rather to befriend Dalmatia than to attack them.

    Fiume had- like other cities in the Adriatic littoral- benefitted indirectly from Venice’s clean sweep through the Mediterranean (particularly the precipitous decline in piracy due to Venetian patrols) and the Latin hegemony over the same only further advantaged them- they shared common language, customs, and cultures with the Latinized ruling classes in the Levant, the Crusader kingdoms of Greece, Anatolia, Armenia, and Syria, and the commercial colonies and protectorates of the Merchant Republics broadcast across the Mare Nostrum. This contrasted sharply with the far more ephemeral cultural and commercial presence of the distant Catalans or Provencals- both frequently at war with each other in any case- or the even more distant intrusions of the Dutch, Spanish, Germans, or English; the Arabs and Turks were, commercially speaking, relative nonentities at this time, and largely dependent on European traders.

    Fiume further benefitted from her comparatively pacific relations with Venice in the past. Unlike Trieste, Ragusa, or Zara, the city had not infamously waged any major war or insurrection against the Venetians before or after its conquest by the Venetians, and the city was consequently given somewhat more leniency. Finally, Fiume also enjoyed an ample and amply wooded hinterland. For Venice, Dalmatia and Istria were not merely the site of many competing cities- they also had lush forests easily accessible from the coast, and from ancient times the timber of Dalmatia was frequently reborn as the hulls of ships plying the Mediterranean. This, combined with her rapid post-plague repopulation, meant that Fiume had a strikingly large fleet and ample men to crew their ample ships. The city therefore could offer the use of her merchant marine- critically also her sailors- at a time when Venice was still rebuilding from a costly war with the Genoese, which had cost her much blood and treasure, and left her more, not less, vulnerable to the intrusions of Thrace, Naples, Genoa, Marseilles, or Catalonia.

    The Fiumans offered to place their fleet- commercial and military- under Venetian control during this and all future wars and to additionally pay a lump tithe to Venice as a tribute. In return, Fiume would be granted “free use of all Venetian trade facilities” and “the same protections and consideration of tariffs, foreign and domestic” enjoyed by Venice’s merchants. In other words, Fiume wanted in on the profits, and was willing to pay for the privilege.

    Venice refused this deal because she did not want Fiume as a subsidiary- she wanted Fiume (and Dalmatia) to be supine, not subordinate. Venice, with her state-run arsenal and state-dominated industries, had neither the need nor the desire to hire Fiuman ships. Yet the Fiumans themselves were another matter- for the crucial insight by Foscari was that the Fiumians themselves could loan their labor to Venice as private citizens and be bribed away with profits placed directly into their own profits, and Fiume itself thus cast into perpetual servitude by the willing cooperation of her former ruling class.

    The deal worked out in Fiume in the bitter and bloody winter of 1439 was, in the words of a modern historian, “a negotiated buyout of the shareholders of a liquidated corporate competitor.” The Fiuman elites were obligated to purchase and maintain estates in Venice itself- districts would be established in Chioggia, Mestre, and on Giudecca in the Rialto- and to pay an annual tithe to the Republic in peacetime. They would not become citizens- cittadini- of Venice or gain any representation in the Venetian government; however, their estates in Venice would be exempt from the increasingly harsh state taxation, and the Fiumans would be granted special privileges in civil and religious ceremonies, such as the Marriage to the Sea, Dogadal elections, and feast days. Venice was a good Catholic city, and her subjects were also good Catholics; religious festivities were incredibly prestigious in urban and other gatherings, and the appeal of this privilege as a social (rather than strictly economic) benefice should not be underestimated.

    And yet in practical terms the requirement of maintaining estates in Venice was certainly a real and substantial burden on the Fiumans. Many kings and conquerors incorporated new conquests by requiring the subjugated elites to send relatives or even themselves to the Imperial Court in the prince’s capital; Venice was now doing the same, but with her own uniquely Republican twist. For every good Venetian aristocrat knew that their city was the finest in Europe, the freest in Christendom, the most beautiful in the world, and he knew better than his mother tongue his Patrician duty to sponsor the arts, patronize the plebeians, grow rich and fat on trade, and commiserate with friends, family, rivals, and enemies alike in matters of commerce, church, and city.

    The rich of Fiume would have to live lives worthy of emulation, and indeed would be subject to even more scrutiny as foreigners- barbarians- who knew nothing of the finer things of life, and could probably not afford them, anyway. This social pressure imposed the natural burden of conspicuous consumption, which in turn meant the same activities anxious rich always indulge in across all of time and space- construction of hospitals and bridges, financing of industry and culture, sacrifice of sweat and blood in battle, licentious cavorting and carousing, grandiloquent parties and weddings and funerals on special occasions and always the pomp and circumstance of natural privilege. The courtesans and the artisans and the poets and the philosophers; the jewelers and the tailors and the armorers and the sculptors; the priests and the widows and the orphans and the beggars: all those who society thinks “these deserve sympathy, support, praise, and protection”; these people and others would now have Fiuman silver rain down from marble balconies on the days of pleasure and pride.[2] The elites of Fiume would be trapped by their own ambitious jealousy, and praise their captors for the privilege even as they muttered under their breath at the haughtiness of the barbarians who made their cities into slaves. Venice- Venetians- would prosper accordingly.

    In addition to their gilded cages, Fiume’s elites gained one other brilliant (if nakedly corrupt and self-serving) concession- they would become accomplices in the subjugation and exploitation of their own cities. Venice would appoint the governors and administrators of Dalmatian cities from the very same Dalmatian aristocrats who would relocate to Venice itself and reside there as pampered outcasts. They would be promised a portion of all tax revenues extracted from the captive cities and be allowed to administer the cities themselves as they saw fit, so long as Venice got her annual tribute in turn.

    There was the small matter that Venice was now effectively asking Dalmatian citizens to become mercenaries hired by Venice from the very Dalmatian rulers who would now lord over Dalmatia as literal tyrants, but this too was easily solved through ample bribery and the judicious doling out of privileges. In addition to lush wages and certain legal protections, such as immunity to prosecution without appeal to their city, after a term of twenty-five years in service to Venice’s government “in war and peace” or “other distinguished behavior as acknowledged by the Venetian government” any Dalmatian sailor or soldier aboard the leased fleets would be granted Venetian citizenship, albeit as a commoner, and permitted to settle in the lagoon. This citizenship was not hereditary and was only valid within the Republic’s borders itself- citizenship de extra, which applied in foreign territories, was obviously vital for those engaged in commerce, and correspondingly jealously guarded- but could be earned repeatedly by successive generations and the descendants would regardless gain full, automatic, and tax-free inheritance of their family property, the right to own land in the city (but not to conduct business or a trade, other than as a soldier, sailor, or laborer), and certain other social and tax privileges, such as the right to be buried in the city itself or to participate in local festivals and feast days.

    The combined effect of the deal was to infuse into Venice the most immediately valuable citizens of the subject cities; these privileged few would enjoy the splendid and lavish lifestyle of the Venetians (if not their legal or economic rights) in the richest and most refined city in Europe, and the opportunity to enrich themselves in the despoilation and plunder of their own native cities and all other commercial and military expansion of Venice into the east. Venice only accepted the deal under the most strenuous circumstances- the city was panicked at the possibility of another Genoese invasion of the Lagoon- and the realization that the Venetians themselves were not ultimately offering very much to the Dalmatians. Venice’s wealth, after all, stemmed from trade, not taxes, and trade would remain tightly controlled by the Venetians. Indeed, the greatest objections were raised principally against the “loss” of governmental offices to the Dalmatians since the Venetians valued these sinecures for their own favored sons.

    The deal in time propelled Venice to dizzying imperial heights and planted the seeds of her own subjugation, for neither the Venetian aristocracy nor their Dalmatian counterparts appreciated that in time it would be the humble commoners who would rule them both, the laborers seizing the fruits of their labor as once they came to seize the fruits of the colonies. But in 1439 the deal arguably did nothing beyond turn the slim possibility of a Dalmatian revolt into an impossibility. In 1439, Venice was not under direct threat of conquest; as her diplomats chastened King Matteo of Lombardy, he may rule her former subjects on land, but his armies could not march cross the seas, and certainly could not cross the Venetian Lagoon. “Let them grow gills,” Doge Loredan flaunts in an opera written by men separated from the real events by the annihilation of successive generations, “let them grow gills and cross into the ready embrace of our blades. Let us all die and sink into the brine; a king may conquer, but he shall never rule a free people, and his lot is to die as all men, but a Free City bows to no king but the King of All Men, Jesus our Lord and His Father in Heaven.” Loredan flourishes by taunting Matteo with his future bloody ruin, and reciting the “fate of the other men” who had once thought to clip Venice’s divine wings, the wings of St Mark’s Lion; Charlemagne’s empire and dynasty perished, the Germans were destroyed by the Pope and their own biological failures, the Greeks and Hungarians “received God’s punishment for their arrogance, heresy, and treachery,” and the Turks were destroyed by the armies of Christendom. Matteo, himself, would soon join the legion of Venice’s fallen foes, and he would not fall alone.

    Venice’s admonition to the Visconti King was well-founded; the reach of Latin arms was readily exceeded by that of Latin commerce, just as Venice was to outlast the King of Lombardy and the annihilation of his ambitions. Matteo had backed the wrong horse by allying with France against the Burgundian Emperor, and it would cost him dearly. Yet the seeds of Venice’s greatest triumph were as yet unknown even to her. On January 14, 1433, while war loomed in Italy and Europe began tearing itself to pieces, the seventh and final Treasure Voyage of Zheng He arrived in Hormuz and was witnessed by a community of Latin merchants and mercenaries living within the city, several of whom- including the adventurer Bartolomeo Colleoni- would depart with the fleet. It would be many years before news of the voyage would return to Europe.

    Even as the Ming Empire first appeared on the most distant horizons of Italy, another Empire loomed above her from across the Alps; the glorious future in the east, the dangerous past to the north. Emperor Philip of Lorraine, putative heir to Charlemagne, was now watering his horses on the Rhine, planning his own conquest of Lombardy.

    [1]OTL Foscari became Doge, while his rival Loredan was passed over; TTL, with expansion on the mainland foreclosed by the Lombard Kingdom, Loredan- who is said to have favored overseas expansion and was an accomplished military commander- becomes Doge instead.

    [2]there is a tradition, mentioned in the Behind the Bastards episode on Gabriele D’Annunzio, of rich men literally raining coins on partying commoners on certain festive occasions, such as the birthday of the eldest son. As a mental image, it seemed too evocative, particularly for Venice, to ignore, though I unfortunately cannot attest to the truth of it directly.
     
    Blood of Kings
  • Blood of Kings​

    Emperor Philip bore laboriously the burden of his crown, a burden unwelcome but unavoidable under the circumstances. His Burgundian State- a revived Lotharingia- straddled the Rhine, nestled in the beating heartland of Western Europe. By necessity his father had reclaimed the royal crown of Lothair’s Lorraine, and by necessity Philip himself claimed the imperial crown, undertaking along with it the burden of posturing as the secular head of Christendom, paternalistic mediator between kingdoms and protector of the Church and Christians.

    Since the fall of the Western Empire, Europe had been a continent without a natural leader- many men had tried to take up the spiritual mantle of the Caesars, men armed with the robes of St Peter or Charlemagne’s diadem. No one man had ever won absolute authority, even if several secured a degree of transiently intemperate influence- both the Papacy and the Empire remained potent symbols of European unity, even as the actual powers of both offices attenuated. By 1440, three major powers now orbited about the Imperial throne- Philip presently occupied the seat, but Polish Luxemburg and Lombard Visconti waited covetously for their turn to fidget in Charlemagne’s seat. Matteo made abundantly clear in his public proclamations that he viewed himself as the true Emperor of Rome; Philip was a barbarian pretender, an illegitimate “usurper” in spirit if not in the eyes of the law. Did not the Visconti dynasty- estranged though the family was- rule in both Rome and Constantinople? Had they not shed their blood liberating the Holy Land? Was not their marital relation Henry a loyal son and servant of the late Azzone Visconti, and married to a Viper Queen, while other marital relations and dynastic in-laws sat upon the thrones of France, Aragon, England, Lorraine, Hungary, Poland, and Bavaria? Latin soldiers now dominated Italy, Greece, Anatolia, and the Levant; they occupied much of the African and Adriatic coasts, and the islands of the Baleares in Iberia; their explorers and merchants sailed haughtily through the Pillars of Hercules and ventured fearlessly into the lands of the Tigris and Euphrates. Philip’s own state, rich and powerful as it was, certainly had no claim to supremacy over the might and majesty of Italy, now just starting to unfurl her imperial splendor for the world to witness. But Philip did not fight alone- Matteo’s ambitions now poisoned his former friendship with the Polish-Hungarian Empire.

    Sigismund I of Hungary had resented Azzone Visconti’s pretensions enough to wage war on him, and Sigismund himself died in the process; likewise, Matteo of Lombardy nursed his own grudges against overbearing in-laws. For he was the rightful head of the Visconti dynasty, the rightful ruler of Lombardy and therefore of all Italy; Matteo deserved the Imperial crown, not his cousins in Provence or Naples, and certainly not an offshoot of French royalty in Flanders. Such frustrations bled into his acerbic missives defiantly blasted across the Alps in response to Philip’s threat of Imperial censure. “I tell you now,” Matteo ironically mirrored Emperor Henry IV’s defiance, “come down, come down and fight! Let Rome unveil her true Prince, her Emperor, and rally to his banner, and all Gaul and Germania shall tremble at our might. No longer do we kneel to foreigners.”

    For all his bloviating, Matteo knew that his international position was deteriorating rapidly, and he would need to force a confrontation sooner rather than later. Philip had won Sigismund II’s support with a solemn pledge, binding himself and his heirs, to vote for Sigismund himself or his immediate dynastic successor at the next imperial election and to immediately formally enfeoff Sigismund as the Archduke of Austria, thus spurning the Wittelsbach and Visconti claims entirely. In return, King Sigismund promised to send a detachment of Hungarian knights east to join the Emperor’s army, and to accept Philip’s annexation of the County Palatine following the death of its last Wittelsbach Elector Rupert. Both the Count of Holland and the several Dukes of partitioned Bavaria staked their own claim, but Philip’s armies were larger and closer, and he had the legal right as sovereign emperor to escheat the territory. His aim, of course, was to redress the obvious dynastic imbalance in the Electoral College- both the Visconti and the Luxemburgs had two electorates each, but Valois-Burgundy only had one. Installing his heir Charles as Count Palatine solved that problem and followed the precedent of Louis of Hungary and Sigismund II himself; both placed their young heirs in Berlin as a hereditary electorate to be held by the crown prince. When Philip marched on Basel, he did so with most of Northern Europe behind him and a Europe reordered to his desires.

    Basel had already gained significance as the seat of the First Council of Basel three decades prior, and it would in time become the seat of future Councils as the Conciliar Capital of the Catholic Church. Its obvious importance as a major crossroads between Italy, Germany, and France brought both Matteo’s Lombards and Philip’s Imperial and Franco-Burgundian forces to within sight of the city’s walls.

    Matteo’s army was smaller than Philip’s, indeed smaller than it could have been- he had favored speed over marshalling his total strength, trusting in his Swiss allies and his own acumen to compensate. The Swiss- or at least the Bernese- took to the field alongside the Latins and together they had a strong advantage in experienced soldiers. The Two Burgundies- Imperial (Lotharingia/Lorraine) and Royal (Provence)- had raw numbers, a substantial advantage in cavalry, entrenched artillery (one of the early instances of a European field army utilizing gunpowder artillery on the battlefield) and cadres of heavily armored knights; the international Imperial army Philip brought to Basel included Welsh archers and Fleming Pikemen fighting alongside knights and nobles from both France and Germany.

    Confronted by this dangerous combination of enemies, Matteo and his Swiss attempted to do a daring night attack on the Provencals, expecting that they could be routed in the confusion. Matteo belabored under the faulty assumption that the two armies were not yet together; if he could join his army with that of Provence, Philip would likely be insurmountable. Strategic common sense thus mirrored Matteo’s natural aversion to ceding the initiative to his enemy. Unfortunately for Matteo, his information was outdated- Philip, thought to still be marching through Alsace with his siege train, had already arrived with the better part of his army, and had set up a fortified camp not far from the Provencals.

    The midnight hours of September 1442 saw three armies blunder bloodily through mountain, forest, and fog; one was routed, one was bloodied, and one was destroyed by the enterprise. Matteo’s army first fell upon the Provencals and routed them after the Provencal cavalry was pinned and destroyed by the Swiss, but Matteo himself was unfortunately slain in the process (most accounts assert by a crossbow bolt, but some suggest an arquebusier’s shot or even fire from a “ribauldequin” artillery piece slaying the King); later depictions have him sighting his cousin and impetuously giving chase only to be cut down in front of said kinsman, but no contemporary account of this exists and it is likely a Romantic revision by later dramatists. The French cavalry was roughly simultaneously suffering from a not-dissimilar disaster engaging a separate contingent of the Green army, with a “lance” of French nobles inadvertently charging into a Swiss pike block while pursuing routing “Germans” through the fog.

    Matteo’s army, not yet realizing what had happened to their liege, successfully rallied after routing the Provencals and joined their compatriots fighting the Burgundians- at least some contingents, including several knights carrying the fallen Matteo’s royal banner, pursued the King of Provence straight into the lines of the Burgundian armies- but the element of surprise had been lost and Philip maintained the discipline of his men, critically rallying a strong, heavily armored reserve of French nobles. This force then dismounted and, under the Emperor’s personal leadership, charged forward to support the faltering Flemings against the Swiss and Lombards. The Imperial camp degenerated into a brutal melee in which the heavily outnumbered Italo-Swiss forces was eventually surrounded and overwhelmed, some more obstreperous contingents fighting practically to the last man and nearly all the slain Swiss reaping a bloody toll on the French and their allies. Matteo’s corpse was discovered the following morning by a haughty King Giovanni after an inventory of the prisoners revealed the fallen King’s absence from the field.

    In the immediate wake of the battle the political fate of the Swiss Confederation- specifically, that of the city of Bern- was sealed. The remaining Lombards had no stomach to fight on after their king’s death and fled back across the mountains to Italy; Switzerland was abandoned to its fate. Bern was among the first Swiss Cantons to rally to King Matteo Visconti, and the only one to take the field when the King and his enemy the Emperor entered into Switzerland. For valiantly honoring their alliance with Italy and bleeding in the name of Swiss liberty, Bern was abandoned by her fellow cantons. After Bern was besieged, taken, sacked, and then annexed by the Burgundians, the rump of a much-chastened Swiss Confederacy was made to accept the Emperor’s pardon and sign a peace sacrificing Bernese independence.

    Matteo’s death effectively placed King Giovanni I of Provence in a position to play kingmaker in Italy, annexing Piedmont and orchestrating a coup in Genoa which won him control of the city. Genoa naturally opened the path to claiming Sicily, but first Giovanni had to account for latent Papal hostility. Pope Eugene IV would soon find that one viper’s death did not banish his brothers from Italy; aligning Rome with his native Republic of Venice, the Pope gave permission to the Orsini Prince of Taranto to marry the underage Queen Charlotte, thus attempting to reassert Papal sovereignty over Naples and divide the Visconti north from the Orsini south. This attempt was doomed to failure; even if the Pope had enjoyed the total confidence of Rome and the full backing of Naples, he could not hope to confront the Emperor and victorious armies of Northern Italy marching against him; indeed, Rome and Eugene both were forced to submit to Emperor Philip.

    Matteo might be dead, but Philip was not inclined to depose Matteo’s twenty-year-old successor King Gian Galeazzo III of Lombardy; indeed, he was unlikely to succeed even if he had made the attempt. In the first place, the two men were distantly related, owing to the two French princesses in Gian Galeazzo’s ancestry- most recently and importantly his mother the Princess Catherine, aunt of the current King of France. Gian Galeazzo was also the cousin of the three new Dukes in Bavaria, who were powerful and prestigious imperial princes in their own right and men that Philip could not afford to antagonize.

    Nevertheless, King Giovanni succeeded in extracting his pound of flesh from his fallen cousin and rival. Giovanni’s annexation of Piedmont and Genoa were confirmed by Emperor Philip to be legal transfers from one Electoral Kingdom (Lombardy) to another (Provence). Giovanni also laid claim to the entire Italian inheritance of his grandfather’s line- the crowns of Sicily, Sardinia, Corsica, and Rome, now fallen to rival princes. Sardinia and Corsica largely fell behind Giovanni owing to Genoese influence. Sicily also declared for Giovanni; the island had remained steadfastly loyal to the Visconti and defied the reign of the Orsini pretender. Naples and Rome remained defiant; the latter, having attempted to elevate Pope Eugene IV to rule them, now appealed to the Margave of Tuscany and Ivrea Emmanuel II to become their Prince, an appeal which he readily accepted; Naples, meanwhile, remained under the vise-grip of the “Orsini Pretender.”

    Said pretender, now styling himself the Lord Regent of Naples for the nine-year-old Queen Charlotte, was the foxy Giovanni Antonio Orsini, the Prince of Taranto and eminence gris behind Naples since his first regicidal betrayals of Enrico of Sicily and now his second betrayal of Louis and subsequent murder of Louis’ young grandsons the year prior. Giovanni Antonio from the very beginning of his tenure faced a serious crisis of legitimacy. After all, he could not legally engage his son to his wife’s niece and sovereign Queen without the Pope’s approval twice over, both because a Papal dispensation was generally required to marry one’s cousin, and because Pope Eugene- alongside Matteo of Lombardy- had specifically demanded that Queen Charlotte not be engaged without his permission. Giovanni’s marriage (which was thankfully not consummated due to the girl’s youth- although it was not unheard of for young girls in this period to be raped by their spouses, a prepubescent girl could not bear children) was thus illegal in the eyes of the church, a “bride theft” that denied the Visconti dynasty its proper powers over its own “property,” i.e., Visconti women.

    While Eugene- urged on by his native Venice- had indeed given such dispensation, this edict was obviated when Rome was occupied by Imperial forces and Eugene forced to disavow his “heretical politicking” by the Second Council of Basel. The Pope’s submission ultimately did little but affirm the Imperial reordering of territories to the north and the nominal repudiation of the Orsini in the south, but as events in Tuscany showed, even the nominal unity of Pope, Emperor, and the Kings of Italy and Provence could not guarantee control over the restive cities of Italy.

    Margrave Emmanuel II of Ivrea initially aligned himself with Venice and the Papacy against the Visconti, seizing the government of Florence and proclaiming himself Duke of Tuscany. He defeated and killed the last of the Gold Visconti, his brother-in-law Count Giacomo II of Siena, in the field near Arezzo and subsequently captured Siena. Thereafter, he abandoned the Venetians and made peace with Emperor Philip, who was anxious to be done with Italy and needed a friendly Tuscany to enter Rome; beyond this, the savvy Philip may also have realized that Ivrean Tuscany weakened the Visconti by splitting the province from Lombardy. For similar reasons the Emperor looked equanimously on the conquests of the Serene Republic of Venice.

    Venice had regained her Terrafirma in the chaos following Matteo’s death, but any ambitions she might have fostered for lands east of the Adda River were aborted by the need to divert her attentions south against the Este of Ferrara in order to defend possession of Padua and Rovigo and east to the brewing conflict with Genoa in the Aegean and Black Seas; the Duke of Ferrara had himself defected to the Imperial camp in return for Bologna (seized from Ivrean partisans in early April 1443), a concession confirmed by the Ivreans as the price for imperial (and Visconti) blessing of their control over both Tuscany and Piedmont. Thus lacking any mainland allies, Venice saw no reason to press further and Philip was pleased to accept Venetian gold in return for vague promises of homage.

    Doge Loredan in any event was not particularly interested in mainland expansion and had only grudgingly supported the reconquest of Venice’s former western frontiers due to the fait accompli of Padua’s rebellion against the Este and subsequent appeal to Venice herself. Loredan wished to secure an amicable settlement in Italy because he was more interested in asserting Venetian claims to Albania, which had been lost to Thrace the prior decade, and additionally in an upcoming campaign- in alliance with the Teutonic Knights and Polish-Hungarian Union- against the Genoese colonies in Crimea, Cyrenaica, and Ionia.

    Genoa and Venice both recognized their truce as merely a temporary armistice to rearm for the next confrontation. The Genoese exploited the lull in eastern fighting to consolidate her grip over the Tyhrennian. The last Catalan outposts in Sicily and Sardinia had fallen by the time of Matteo’s demise in Switzerland, and Genoa had even plundered and occupied the Balearic Islands. Genoa secured an alliance with the Emirate of Granada against Aragon, leasing the Rock of Gibraltar and taking her first tentative steps into the Atlantic world then being actively interrogated by the Portuguese. Genoa had also taken several strong strides into the east, capturing the City of Sinope in Pontus, renewing her anti-Venetian alliance with Thrace, and declaring- with both papal and Visconti (and at times even Imperial) blessing- her own independent “Crusades” for first Bizerte in Tunis, then Smyrna and Sinope in Anatolia, and finally Benghazi in Cyrenaica, all bases from which Venetian trade could and would be attacked.

    The sanctioning of these “Secular Crusades” followed naturally from the First Council of Basel and were affirmed at the Second Council of Basel convened after Eugene’s capture, which reaffirmed the broad acceptance of the principles laid out in Defensor Pacis by Marsilius of Padua a century-and-a-half prior: that the state was the defender of peace and order and that all secular responsibilities of the Papacy and the Church should be transferred to Sovereign Christian Kings (or at least, a Sovereign Christian Emperor). It was generally presumed, though not explicitly stated, that the Emperor could and indeed should- by stint of his unique position as the leader of Christendom- rally the Christian world to arms against hostile infidels. The Genoese “Crusades” had often been gained Imperial blessing under this precise theory, owing to the city’s frequent alliance with the Visconti Emperors; the practice proved controversial but ultimately the scholars of Paris, who strongly emphasized the “secular nature” of warfare, won the day, and Imperial Crusading was formally endorsed by the Council; Royal Crusades were left unaddressed, as Philip was unprepared to accept that a King was equal to an Emperor, and his partisans won the day.

    The Council also declared- citing Urban IV’s First Crusade as precedent- that if a secular ruler “wished to undertake, on his own noble initiative, the solemn and holy undertaking of waging Holy War against infidels and heretics… that the Popes could retroactively sanction such worthy enterprises and thereby express God’s favor for the martyred soldiers of Christendom.” The Popes, suitably wooed by the persuasive arguments of Genoese bankers, so proclaimed the Genoese holy warriors driven by the entirely selfless desire to spread the Christian faith into (and through) their merchant enclaves dotted about the Mediterranean.

    Brushed aside were broader concerns about indulgences, which ostensibly had been upheld by The First Basel Council insofar as they were granted “unconditionally to the worthy” by the Pope, a vague remonstrance which did little to confront the broader concern of clerical corruption even as the council denounced precisely just such “worldliness” in the abstract. Some thinkers already suggested that the Council had not gone far enough, and Crusades in their entirety should be made entirely the dominion of Kings, but the broader Catholic doctrine refused this as contradicting the basic notion of the Two Swords Separation doctrine- just as a Pope could not play a prince and exercise secular authority over a Papal State, a sovereign could not rightfully intrude upon the spiritual realm and proclaim a triumph for the souls of the departed. The Emperor’s unique role notwithstanding, his remit extended only into the mortal world; he could only proclaim Holy Wars “defensively” and as a secular initiative to save the bodies of the faithful, not as a matter of holy undertaking. Such legalistic distinctions arguably mattered little in theory and less in practice, but they would mutate into surprisingly resilient fault lines in coming decades.

    There remained the small matter- for which the Council had specifically been invoked to address- of Pope Eugene IV’s ostensible heresy. Eugene IV had clearly transgressed against the Two Swords Doctrine articulated by the First Council of Basel: he had sought secular powers and even a secular principality, without the secular approval of his secular Sovereign, and thereby meddled in affairs as a Pope that the Pope should never address as anything other than a private citizen and subject of whichever principality he belonged to. Nevertheless, Philip pressured against outright deposing a Pope, owing to the firm appeal of the Magrave of Ivrea (who requested the opposite, likely with the goal of securing his own nominee to the throne of St. Peter; Philip instead decided that Eugene IV was pliant enough for a Pope in hand to be worth anyone in the Vatican).

    Eugene IV was forced, under threat of deposition and damnation by the Council and subsequent execution (for heresy) by Emperor Philip, to recant his alleged sins, renounce any claim or interest in the governance of Rome, and expressly repudiate his support for Queen Charlotte’s marriage to the Prince of Taranto. A sovereign queen could not be made to marry against her will even at the urging of a Pope; only her “true sovereign,” i.e. her father or closest living male relative, could so command “even the lowliest urchin” to wed. The Orsini were not her closest male relatives except perhaps by marriage- even if the laws of Naples were explicitly clear on whether that qualified, moreover, Prince Giovanni Antonio had disqualified himself by kinslaying (the murder of his “cousins” and Louis’ grandchildren, the princes of the tower) and treason. Thus, Giovanni Antonio’s marriage was declared void and Giovanni Antonio branded a heretic and usurper. The Kingdom of Naples was placed under an interdict so long as the Queen was not acknowledged as a “proper virgin Sovereign” and the Orsini government set aside.

    Absent this marriage, and notwithstanding his marital ties to the Visconti dynasty (which were perhaps not especially useful at countering the legitimacy of an agnatic Visconti dynastic warrior-king claiming his grandparents’ kingdoms) Orsini’s sole claim to rule in Naples was the rank power being the kingdom’s largest magnate gave him; and if one Lord among the Neapolitan nobility could come to rule in Naples, then why not another? One particular leader did not emerge despite a handful of pretenders or dissidents, but a “League of Princes” did emerge in opposition to the Lord Regent’s domination of the Neapolitan court and began building an army in Puglia. Although not totally declaring themselves in rebellion against either Giovanni Antonio or Queen Charlotte- an act tacitly rejecting the claims of Giovanni I of Sicily and Provence- they were certainly no friends of the Regent and they received courteous appeals from King Giovanni I among others.

    The League’s most powerful backer was Margrave Emmanuel of Ivrea, who adroitly courted the lords and sent soldiers south under his brother Count Amadeo of Susa. The League also had active negotiations with Venice- a republic as always trying to delicately balance all sides in the burgeoning Neapolitan Succession Crisis- and Giovanni of Sicily; but the League was undoubtedly the principal consequence of the meddling of King Ladislao of Thrace, who dispatched rich gifts and many “agents and envoys” to Naples to sound out the possibility of his own bid for the throne of Naples and in any event weaken both the Orsini and his brother Giovanni. Even if Ladislao never managed to land a single soldier in Italy, weakening the Orsini still suited his purposes, since he had designs on the Kingdom of Croatia then ruled by Giovanni Antonio’s daughter-in-law and son.

    Breaking the Neapolitan-Croatian-Hungarian alliance suited Thrace’s purposes as much as the Venetians, who indeed were aware of Ladislao’s efforts and ultimately did not stop him, for Venice faced the difficult problem of not wanting a Neapolitan-Croatian-Hungarian(-Polish) alliance to disrupt her own plans for a Venetian-Polish(-Hungarian) alliance against both Thrace and Genoa, to be cemented by a conquest of Genoese colonies in both the Black Sea and the Mediterranean. Venice did have something of an interest in preventing a Visconti restoration in Naples and thereby should ostensibly have favored the Orsini, but this weighed less on Doge Loredan’s mind than affairs in the east. Thus, the Venetians attempted to delay any decisive confrontation until after her impending war with the Genoese, and thus Venice fell victim to the machinations of the Margrave of Ivrea, whose ultimate aim was to claim Naples for himself and his dynasty via the marriage of Queen Charlotte to his twelve-year-old son and heir Victor Amadeo of Ivrea. This was the ultimate task of the Count of Susa and his Tuscan soldiers, a task for which the Count would be rewarded with Tuscany and Piedmont; the Ivrean archives explicitly reveal that Emmanuel II wanted nothing less than to supplant the Visconti in both the north and the south and he and his brother were scheming to split Italy between the two of them.

    The spark of what would become the Second Italo-Genoese/Venetian War was lit in Anatolia. Venice had reacted to Genoese expansion by orchestrating her own wars, seizing and occupying Antalya in conjunction with the Knights Hospitaller in late 1438. The city thereupon became a Venetian merchant colony and the nucleus for the Knights’ subsequent wars into Anatolia. After the Concessions of Fiume in 1439, Venice saw a massive influx of military manpower from Dalmatia, wealthy and ambitious men who sought to gain Venetian citizenship through service in the Venetian military. It was also not unnoticed by either Doge Loredan or the Dalmatians that as Venetian territory expanded, the range of the citizenship acquired (since they did not have citizenship de extra which extended into foreign lands) by the Dalmatians would also expand; this indeed was arguably the greatest long-term impact of the deal. Venice herself had never cared to expand beyond the commercial outposts necessary to protect her trade, but the Dalmatians now had the means and the motive to press the borders of the Serene Republic as far as they could reach, and Venice’s reach in 1440 was quite far indeed.

    The Knights of Rhodes had seen some expansion of their numbers and success in the wake of the Crusading revival, but they never enjoyed a strong imperial patron like their compatriots in the Teutonic Knights enjoyed in Poland; Venice was willing to ally opportunistically with the Knights, but not to see them expand or create a powerful state in Anatolia, and consequently Venice always sought to claim the key spoils of major campaigns. This policy was aided greatly by the influx of Dalmatian soldiers into Anatolia, but it also led to a sharp and immediate deterioration with the Latin states existing in the region. Not only the Knights of Rhodes, but also the Duke of Athens, the Princes of Albania and Achaea, and of course the King of Thrace, all sided with the Genoese against the Serene Republic. All would be defeated.

    In Late August 1441, a Genoese merchant ship was attacked by pirates off the coast of Rhodes. The “pirates” were reputedly Turks and dressed and carried the banners of such, but it was abundantly obvious that the true culprits were Dalmatian privateers loosely operating under the Doge’s directive (if they in fact answered to him- or to any part of the Venetian government, for that matter) to weaken Genoese trade. Since the fall of Antalya, the Turks had no remaining ports in Southern Anatolia- the entire coast was divided between various Latin states, the Greek Isles were largely Venetian, and further east the Levantine coast was in the hands of King Henry of Jerusalem; thus, the pirates could only have originated from one of these states, or from the Mamluks or Tunisians further south. Doge Loredan, when confronted with the accusation, indeed attempted to blame the latter two powers, but the Genoese refused to accept the explanation- they controlled too much of the Mediterranean coast of North Africa to believe that the Berbers were operating so far north, and in any case the Mamluks had no fleet since Henry had burned it to the waterline in his raid on Alexandria the previous summer. Modern scholars largely believe that the Venetians were in fact responsible for it, largely because this was not the first instance that Dalmatian pirates attacked non-Venetian trade in the region and Doge Loredan had similarly refused to address the issue; this time, however, the incident would ignite open war. Like crouching lions, the two greatest merchant cities in Italy now uncoiled and lunged at each other with murder in their eyes and hatred in their hearts. The wounds of Chioggia had not yet faded in either city.

    That ancient grievance had brought Venice to her lowest point, but now Venice had the clear advantage. She critically had transformed Hungary into an ally- Sigismund II of Poland pledged “all my kingdoms” to eradicating the Genoese colonies along the Black Sea Coast, and he invaded Bulgaria in 1441 as part of a general effort to assert Luxemburg Supremacy from the Steppe to the banks of the Danube. Confronted with the threat to his north and to his south, Ladislao turned north- and was decisively defeated by the Hungarians at [battle]. In the meantime, Venice swept away the Thracian garrisons in Albania and southern Greece. Durazzo fell on September 8, Athens fell on September 22, and Thessalonica on October 9. With the collapse of Thracian authority after Ladislao’s defeat, Venetian soldiers under the command of a certain “Antonio of Gorizia” launched a spontaneous invasion of Macedonia, advancing as far as Scutari and seizing that city in the name of the Venetian Republic. Scutari was far inland but a major crossroads and significant fortress; Loredan and the Venetians accepted the fait accompli because it was judged that the city could serve as a major keystone in their control of Albania and Greece, linking their critical outposts by land. Thus, Scutari became the first major conquest of the newly militant and expansionist Venetian Empire.

    In Anatolia affairs did not initially proceed to Venice’s advantage. The Knights of Rhodes took Antalya, but after the decisive naval battle at Samothrace destroyed the Genoese fleet, Venice was able to capture the Genoese colonies in Ionia and transfer soldiers from Greece to Asia across the Aegean. With these reinforcements Venice triumphed over the Knights at [battle] and thereafter laid siege to Rhodes; the Knights eventually agreed to surrender the island, in return for being allowed to relocate (with Venetian financial and naval assistance) to a new base in the Maghreb. The initial proposal of Benghazi was flatly refused by Venice, which claimed all of Cyreneica as part of the Kingdom of Candia (the “successor” of the old Roman province of Crete et Cyreneica); instead, the Knights would be sent east and capture the island of Djerba off the coast of Tunis. The island’s substantial Jewish community was subject to a horrific massacre- those that refused to convert were put to the sword- and the island became the first outpost of the Knights Hospitaller in Africa. It would not be the last.

    Genoa lost her remaining outposts in the east with the conclusion of a Teutonic conquest of Kaffa, Cherkio, and Soldaia, and a Theodoran conquest of Cembalo in Gazaria/Crimea; the Empire of Trebizond, in conjunction with Venice, seized Sinope and the remaining Genoese colonies in Pontus. Yet Genoa succeeded in one critical theater- she decisively defeated a Pisan fleet at the Battle of Logoduro in 1442, thereafter occupying the island of Elba and destroying the Judiciate of Arborea in Sardinia; from that year onward, Genoese possession of Sardinia and Corsica was absolute. Venice would never again fight Genoa proper- her future wars would be wars of survival against Italy, and wars of expansion overseas, and Genoa herself would be subsumed within Italy even as the Ligurians came to dominate the Western Mediterranean and contested Iberian influence in the Atlantic.

    In the interim, the abasement of Ladislao immediately lit the fuse on the simmering conflict in Naples. The Orsini lost Naples itself to the Ivreans, who abducted Queen Charlotte to prevent her capture by the Provencals. Marriage to Queen Charlotte was obviously necessary, but it could not be accomplished immediately- Emmanuel of Ivrea could no more hope to defy the Emperor than Antonio of Taranto before him- but he could proclaim himself the girl-queen’s protector and “ensure that the Queen exercised her sovereignty to marry of her own will at the age of her majority” in approximately four years (she was eleven years old in 1442). In the interim, Emmanuel “invited” the Queen to join his thirteen-year-old son as wards of Pope Eugene IV in Rome, where the two children could be brought up together and- in time, perhaps- come to love each other, or at least see the obvious wisdom in marriage.

    Neither Giovanni of Provence and Sicily or Gian Galeazzo III of Tuscany accepted this, but they could no longer bring the Emperor into Italy to depose and destroy Eugene IV for his insolence; Emperor Philip had since died, and his heir Charles of Lorraine honored the obligation of his father and supported the successful bid of Emperor Sigismund II of Poland, then an ally of the Venetians and implicitly an enemy of the Visconti. While the issue was perhaps serious enough to convoke another Council to determine whether Eugene IV was acting heretically by tacitly supporting one contender against another, he could at least argue to be acting solely at the behest of his putative sovereign the Prince of Rome, and in any case he was merely acting as a guardian for the Queen until her majority, not pledging himself to defend her rights or intercede in the ongoing dispute over her hand in marriage. In any event, neither Charles of Burgundy nor Emperor Sigismund of Poland were in a position to intercede.

    Sigismund’s attentions were totally diverted by his impending invasion and conquest of the Duchy of Moscow, whose prince, Vasily II “the Fool,” had irked the Emperor through his cackhanded diplomacy and continual meddling and insolence. Vasily’s father had exploited the unrest in Lithuania to reoccupy certain border territories lost in preceding decades, but Sigismund took them back, exploiting dynastic instability following Vasily I’s death and the subsequent succession struggle between Prince Yuri- Vasily the Elder’s brother- and the young Vasily II. Vasily II had compounded his difficulties by blinding his uncle after his capture, aggravating the boyars with his cruelty, and then provoking a disastrous confrontation with the lord of Kazan, a recent splinter from the crumbling Golden Horde. Pressed on his eastern frontier by the Turks, Vasily II belatedly sought peace and reconciliation with the Latins, but Sigismund was not inclined to leniency, and the mutual recrimination brought about by longstanding border tensions and the presence of Vasily’s rebellious nephews in Poland as exiles exacerbated tensions; Vasily for his part had welcomed his Jagellonian cousins- his grandmother was Vytautas’ daughter.

    What Sigismund II desired was to repeat his grandfather’s procession through Greece- to bring Moscow into reconciliation with the Latin Church and defeat a Muslim “Turkish” army pressing on Christianity’s frontiers. Vasily II’s envoys immediately piqued the Emperor’s ire by referring to their own sovereign, inter alia, as the “Lord of All Rus” and “Tsar of Moscow.” Tsar had similar cultural and political connotations in the east as the west, and Sigismund was not inclined to entertain the delusions of a Russian princeling who imagined himself ruler of a “Third Rome.” Equally critically, Sigismund resented the implication that Moscow had any right to rule over Polish Ruthenian territories such as Kiev. Whether Vasily II seriously entertained delusions of wresting Kiev from Polish control or merely wished to use the title to pressure the return of his nephews, Sigismund’s reaction was harsh- he decided to support a Dmitryite restoration. In return he would have to abandon all pretense to being Emperor anywhere and surrender Muscovite claims over Ruthenia, and additionally accept a Church Union. Vasily II was unwilling to contemplate the latter, even if he was willing to accept territorial concessions, but he severely underestimated the Emperor’s willingness to press the issue. Poland invaded Moscow in 1445, decisively defeating Vasily’s army and laying siege to Moscow.

    The Tatars had twice come to the walls of Moscow in preceding decades, and twice had withdrawn after desultory raiding. Poland would not be so easily dissuaded, since unlike the Golden Horde or Kazan, Emperor Sigismund had cannons. After six weeks of orchestrated bombardment, Sigismund’s soldiers breached Moscow’s walls and stormed into the city, subjecting it to a massacre. The Polish banner was raised above the smoking ruins and the Grand Duchy of Moscow was annexed into the Kingdom of Poland’s Ruthenian lands. As with Lithuania, holding this territory would prove more difficult than conquering it, but that would be a problem for Sigismund’s heirs rather than Sigismund himself. Vasily II disappeared, slain in the fighting, and his heirs Ivan and Vasily fled to Novgorod.

    Charles of Burgundy likewise found himself preoccupied with his own eastern frontier; although aggressive and ambitious, his attentions were firmly fixed across the Rhine, covetously contemplating the fracturing Duchy of Ravensberg in Westphalia and the fractured lands of northwest Germany. These territories were rapidly gaining significance as the crossroads of Polish, Scandinavian, and Lotharingian influence and competition; Charles’ efforts had won Sigismund’s tacit approval in part to check the ambitions of Eric of Pomerania, who was occupying Bremen and making his own bid to snatch up territory from the disintegrating duchy. Sigismund’s ultimate objective was to limit both Burgundian and Danish power in Germany, but if pressed favored the former over the latter, since the Danes were much more obviously hostile to Polish hegemony along the southern Baltic Coast and the Low Countries and Poland were increasingly tied together in a vibrant commercial trade that was increasingly a major source of confrontation between the German Hanseatic League on the one hand and the Dutch and Flemish traders under the King of Lorraine’s banner. Charles, unlike his father, was not bound by either a paternalistic love for a female relation nor the solemn duties of the Emperor of all Christianity to care overly much about Italy, and he was satisfied that regardless of the eventual victor below the Alps, his own position north would not be weakened.

    While at a glance the political situation in Italy had stabilized into frontiers remarkably similar to what they had been at the beginning of the Wars of Vipers, politically the peninsula had deteriorated into a fundamentally unsustainable status quo. War and intrigue had harshly attenuated the Visconti line, and the political legitimacy of the new upstart Ivrean and Orsini Dynasties depended upon confronting revanchist Visconti dynasts who still dreamed of reclaiming their House’s former glory. The matter of the Neapolitan Succession would have to be resolved not through diplomacy or foreign intervention but through a direct contest of arms between the House of Ivrea and the House of Visconti, a confrontation which would determine once and for all the true master of Italy.
     
    The Crimson Coronation
  • The Crimson Coronation

    Nearly six decades prior, the marriage of Azzone Visconti to Joanna II cemented Visconti hegemony over the entire peninsula; now, her granddaughter Carlotta's marriage promised the same to her consort. Three princes contested Queen Charlotte’s hand in marriage, a recurring tripartite division of the peninsula between north, south, and center which defined the period: the lord of Tuscany, the lord of Lombardy, and the King in Provence. But a triumvirate is inherently unstable, and the situation had changed irrevocably with the dethroning of the Tuscan Visconti and the debasement of their northern cousins. Only one of the three would rule Italy.

    Queen Charlotte (Carlotta) remained in Rome- the Pope’s ward, or his prisoner, depending on one’s perspective- throughout the terse interbellum years spanning 1442 to her majority in 1446, four strained years in which the bloodied and belligerent powers of Italy licked their wounds, honed their grudges, and sharpened their swords; the teenaged Queen matured within an Italy marinated by gore and lacerated by daggers sharpened on the bones of fallen kings and conquerors. The Papal Court was always a center of intrigue, and 1446, when Charlotte turned sixteen and entered adulthood in the eyes of her contemporaries, was a year especially scarred by the machinations of powerful and ambitious men seeking to use her claim to further their own ambitions.

    According to later legends, Carlotta had been fated to be born a boy, a great king- her pregnant mother Queen Joanna III, reputedly convinced by an angelic message conveyed in a fever dream, proclaimed that her child would one day unify Italy and restore Sicily to its former glory; upon the birth of a daughter, the somewhat chastened Joanna named her heir Carlotta, the feminine variant of Carlo- a name resonant with regal implications, owing to the Angevin King Charles II, who conquered Sicily from his power base in Provence; the name also did homage to the then-King and future emperor Charles of Lorraine and the contemporary King Charles [number] of France. In time, Carlotta demonstrated herself to be admirably worthy of the hopes placed upon her infant brow, but in 1446 the reign of the great Sovereign Empress of Italy was barely beginning, and its birth was bloody indeed.

    Determining the extent to which a sixteen-year-old girl-child meaningfully enjoyed any real autonomy is an exercise in futility; Charlotte’ engagement to her seventeen-year-old cousin Amadeo of Ivrea, Prince of Piedmont, was the entirely predictable outcome of her abduction (or “liberation”) by the Ivreans and their allies in the Vatican. Under the circumstances dealt to her, Charlotte may be forgiven for presuming the empathetic and intelligent young prince to be her most palatable choice in partner. The two were never particularly passionate in public during their brief but fruitful union, but their relationship was personally amicable and immediately successful in the most basic requisite element- by the end of the year, Charlotte was pregnant, and she gave birth to two healthy baby boys- the twins Azzone and Amadeo- on June 11, 1447, in the royal palace of Naples, under radically different (and difficult) personal circumstances.

    From a cynical political perspective, the Ivreans were certainly more attractive to Charlotte than either the treacherous Orsini or her distant Provencal cousins; the former had murdered her father, and the latter sought to claim and rule Naples in their own right and would likely sideline Charlotte if they succeeded- indeed, they had occupied Naples itself until driven from the city in 1445 by a Neapolitan army funded by the Pope and backed by the might of Tuscany’s new Duke, in a brief action Charlotte later referred to as her husband’s bloody dowry. The Ivreans, rather distantly related to the ruling dynasty of Naples (let alone Lombardy) through a collateral line- the defunct and disgraced Tuscan Visconti- desperately needed use of Carlotta’s inherent legitimacy as a Queen Regnant of jointly exalted Angevin-Visconti descent; the young Queen was certainly savvy enough to understand that she would probably enjoy greater influence with a dynastic neophyte as her consort than with an equally regal usurper-cousin contemptuous of Carlotta’s own claim to the Sicilian throne.

    Regardless of whether Queen Charlotte “freely chose” her husband, her cousins Giovanni and Gian Galeazzo III invariably decried the marriage as a sham, a “bride-theft” denying them their patriarchal right to dispose of Charlotte’s hand in the absence of her legal guardians. Antonio Orsini may also have violently contested the match given the opportunity, but he hesitated to engage in more overt confrontation due to both his waning influence with the Neapolitan nobility and additionally due to the influence of the Venetians- Doge Loredan, still guiding Venetian foreign policy, saw the Ivrean state as a welcome counterpart to the Lombards in the north and appreciated the simmering stalemate in the south, and his ambassadors in Taranto urged Antonio against giving open battle and thereby prevent either side from gaining a decisive victory. Antonio himself likely did not need this advice- he was an opportunist, not a gambler, and he was perfectly content to preserve his strength in the south. Yet the Pope’s backing and Carlotta’s marriage and pregnancy had already begun shifting the political calculations for the Neapolitan nobility, who now looked increasingly to the north rather than the south for the future of their fractious kingdom.

    Margrave Emmanuel of Ivrea appreciated the inevitability of the oncoming clash with Milan, and he armed himself and his heir as far as he was able. His death, at the age of 39 in the bitter winter of 1445, came at a most inopportune time, since it left the teenaged Amadeo and his pregnant wife without the support of his experience in the field; instead, the couple could rely upon only their uncle, bound to them by blood and shared antipathy towards Pavia. Emmanuel’s death opened the door for Gian Galeazzo III to interfere directly in the Ivrean estates. The King of Lombardy invaded and occupied Piedmont, demanding that Emmanuel's son and successor Victor Amadeo and his uncle Amadeus present themselves and receive formal enfeoffment at his hands; the ceremony had not previously occurred owing to Gian Galeazzo’s political infirmity and the distant meddling of the Burgundian Emperors, who desired an autonomous March of Tuscany mediatized from Lombardy as a separate imperial fiefdom. Both Amadeo and his uncle refused the royal summons, instead raising their banners in revolt and marching north together to confront the Visconti King and stake their lives and fortunes on a decisive battle.

    Gian Galeazzo III was a man who keenly felt his father’s absence and spent his life chasing his scion’s shadow; his very name, after all, harkened to the first and greatest of the Visconti Kings. Gian Galeazzo III wanted to reassert his authority over Tuscany and centralize the entire dejure Kingdom Lombardy under his personal rule, but while he anticipated the danger inherent in a war with Ivrea, he did not expect the intervention of Provence, which negotiated an engagement between Princess Sophia of Provence and Prince Azzone, two infants bartered away like veal. The marriage further served the purpose, from Giovanni’s perspective, of preventing the Ivreans from aiding any potential rebellion by his younger brother the Count of Lyons, who had taken an Ivrean princess for his wife.

    Gian Galeazzo did not initially wish to engage the Tuscans until after Piedmont was stabilized, but an Ivrean invasion of Emilia forced an immediate response and the King of Lombardy responded personally. The hasty and impromptu clash that followed was in the grand scheme things merely a glorified skirmish, save for the gruesome consequences it would have for the princely participants. Later accounts occasionally assert that the Ivreans were attempting to lure the Lombards into battle with a feigned withdrawal, but contemporary sources all emphasize that the withdrawal was genuine, the inevitable consequence of an overly brash young prince riding out and stumbling upon his enemy and fleeing back to the safety of his army. Gian Galeazzo III gave chase personally along with his cavalry. Initially, the Lombards succeeded in breaking the Ivreans’ line, but Prince Victor Amadeo- rallying his own personal retainers- plunged into the flanks of this force. Along the banks of the Arno, the Prince was savagely cut down in the only known direct confrontation between royal claimants in the entire civil war.

    Gian Galeazzo III did not long outlast his rival. The Ivrean army fought on under the capable command of the elder Margrave Amadeo of Savoy, who- unlike the more inexperienced Gian Galeazzo- had kept a critical reserve under his own command. These forces now enveloped and overwhelmed the exhausted Lombards, and Gian Galeazzo III was captured along with many survivors; despite pleas and promises for mercy, Amadeo had the man beheaded- probably acting on his own initiative (from grief for his fallen nephew or personal ambition) despite Carlotta sometimes being “credited” with ordering her cousin’s death, notwithstanding the logistical impossibilities of her giving such an order. Gian Galeazzo III had no heirs of his body, and the Iron Crown tumbled from his head into the Ivreans’ gauntleted grasp, but first they would have to dispense with the pretensions of the King of Provence.

    News of the battle, and of her husband’s and cousin’s deaths, flew south with the crows. Charlotte- now heavily pregnant- gave birth in Naples to her royal twins. On her own initiative, she decided to remove a dangerous loose end and consolidate her grip on the Kingdom of Sicily. Antonio Orsini was invited to the capital, lured with a prospect of marriage to the now-widowed young queen, an offer far too generous to be genuine; but for once the wary Prince allowed his ambition to override his paranoia, and he underestimated the Queen’s audacity. Antonio was brazenly attacked and hacked to pieces in the streets of Naples by “unknown assailants” bearing the arms of the fallen King Enrico of Sicily, a propagandistic touch intended to paint what was in the end a callously politically motivated murder as an act of divinely sanctioned comeuppance; the Orsini army, lacking a clear figure, defected to the Queen in return for general amnesty and shameless bribes. The Principality of Taranto was confiscated into the royal domain and the line of Orsini brought to an elegant denouement with the forced cloistering of the Prince’s young children.

    In the north, Gian Galeazzo’s death left Lombardy without a native king for the first time in three generations. Carlotta likely already harbored designs on claiming the crown, but her cousin Giovanni I of Provence was closer at hand. Breaking camp at Turin, he quickly seized Pavia, proclaiming himself King of Lombardy alongside a captive Senate. His power barely extended beyond Pavia’s walls and not at all beneath the Apenninese, as Tuscany remained defiantly loyal to the Ivreans, while Milan itself cast out its royal governor and proclaimed a short-lived republic. Genoa declared itself for the Ivreans and accepted Queen Carlotta as their Dogaressa; the Genoese wished to join in the conquest of Sicily, which had risen in revolt after [husband’s] death owing to disgruntlement over taxation and a lackluster royal response to a Tunisian raid against Agrigento.

    Absent a fleet, the Provencals were unlikely to take Genoa by force, let alone Sicily. The Venetians or Aragonese might under ordinary circumstances have allied with Provence against Naples and Milan, but Aragon was faced with a succession squabble and Venice was completely uninterested in mainland affairs. Venice at this time was preoccupied with her excursions into the Levant. Venetian sailors began following the ancient trade routes by which the Romans had tentatively toed into the Horn, and by 1450 had made contact with the powerful Emperor of Ethiopia, who had unified his realm after a brutal succession crisis. The arrival of the Venetians gave the Ethiopian Emperor access to modern European firearms, with which he began centralizing and expanding his state. In a series of campaigns, King destroyed the Adal Sultanate of Somalia, before turning north and subjugating the faltering Kingdom of Alodia, under intense pressure from Arab Sudanese tribesmen, and integrating Nubia into his empire.

    Greater prizes yet beckoned for the Italians- Doge Loredan personally financed an expedition into the Indian Ocean, probing for the riches of the Malabar Coast. Notwithstanding the Doge’s personal stake, the venture was primarily financed and crewed by Dalmatians, who sought riches abroad to compensate for their subjection at home. Doge Loredan and his subjects were thus generally more interested in the goings-on of distant India than the affairs of Milan.

    Venice’s oriental excursions were the fruit of her comparatively tranquil international relations and her now-undisputed hegemony over the Eastern Mediterranean. Venetian-Hungarian relations had traditionally been strained, but Doge Loredan and King Sigismund II saw their interests converge owing to the militancy of the Serbian Despotate and the Kingdom of Thrace. The two powers had allied against the Venetians and the Hungarians, and Sigismund and Venice in retaliation concocted a general scheme to partition the Serbian Despotate. Had he lived beyond this campaign, Sigismund II’s ambitions likely would have led him to renewed war with the Venetians, but the swampish territory around Belgrade proved inhospitable, and the Emperor died of an unspecified illness on [blank]. What was to be a crowning achievement of his reign instead abruptly curtailed the burgeoning Luxemburg renaissance.

    Sigismund’s nine-year-old heir Margrave Sigismund III of Brandenburg ascended to the triumvirate crowns of Hungary, Bohemia, and Poland, abdicating Brandenburg to his four-year-old brother Louis, in order to be seated at the incoming Imperial Election; this abdication, arguably contrary to Sigismund III’s interest (since Sigismund would likely wish to keep Brandenburg for his own heir), was principally the work of the Dowager Queen [queen], who intended to wield personal power as the dowager regent of two young Prince Electors. In the interim, Dalmatians under loose Venetian direction took Novo Brdo fortress- the settlement, a rich silver mine, had large numbers of Ragusan colonists, who proved receptive to the entreaties of their countrymen and opened the gates. The rump of Serbia lingered on, but caught between Venice and Hungary and facing down the barrel of another succession crisis its long-term prognosis was grim.

    Venetian conquest of Novo Brdo coincided fortuitously with their occupation of the silver mines near Innsbruck in Northern Tirol/Trentino and their occupation of Orsini Croatia. Doge Loredan had turned away appeals from both the Swiss and the Bavarians of Munich for an alliance against the Tirolese, but after Loredan’s death his archrival [Doge dude] ascended, and Venice immediately turned towards a more European-oriented policy. [Doge dude] aborted plans for an anti-Iranian alliance alongside the Crusader States and the Mamluks, instead agreeing to pay tribute to the new Sultan Uzun Hasan, warlord of the Akk Qoyunlu and the most powerful ruler in the Dar al-Islam after his decisive victory over the Latins at the Battle of Aleppo in 1452. Syria submitted to the Sultan and he pressed deep into Anatolia, but he proved less hostile to the Latins than the Timurids or Ottomans had been; his treaty with the Venetians mirrored similar agreements made with local powers, such as Armenian Cilicia, the Georgian principalities, and the Despotate of Trebizond, all of which now paid tribute to the Sultan of Iran.

    Further north, the Burgundian Valois secured the nomination of their own King Charles of Lorraine- henceforth Emperor Charles- as the late Sigismund’s successor, triumphing by right of Charles’ own vote, his uncle’s vote as Count of the Rhine, and the votes of Saxony and Provence, both bought with copious bribes. Charles mollified the Luxemburgs by promising to support the status quo of Polish domination in the Baltic, since his Flemish subjects were anxious to maintain the lucrative grain and lumber trade. This promise obliged to support Poland against possible revisionism by the Danish King [king], an obligation which the belligerent Charles happily acceded to given that he was already at loggerheads with Denmark over the fractious territories in Westphalia. The agreement (and Charles’ elevation) also reiterated to the Germans that their own empire had been stolen away from them- neither Polish Luxemburg nor French Burgundy nor the Italian Visconti ever had German interests in mind when they sought the German crown, but the political necessity of bearing the Carolingian crown (if only to deny it to a potential rival) forced these powers to intervene ever more aggressively in Germany. The “Holy Roman Empire” was itself increasingly the plaything of the emerging dynastic empires on its borders, a trend that augured poorly for the peace and tranquility of Central Europe.

    Back in Italy, Charlotte rapidly gained control over Tuscany, severing it from Pavia’s control. Tuscany had never appreciated the centralizing tendencies of Lombardy, and Charlotte’s army was welcomed jubilantly in Florence as a continuation of their old allegiance to the slain Gold Visconti. Charlotte promised that Tuscany would never be ruled as a mere colony of the monarchy- she immediately bestowed the province to her son and heir Carlo Amadeo, enfeoffing him as Prince of Etruria. Etruria- an archaic Roman term for the Etruscans- was the precursor of the Latin Romans; the Princes of Etruria would henceforth govern both Tuscany and Latium as the appanage of their hereditary rights before ascending to the Imperial throne.

    Charlotte was indeed an imperial ruler, in her own mind. She was impeccably royal- the granddaughter of Queen Joanna II, last of the direct Capetian Angevins, and great-granddaughter of Princess Catherine of France of the most noble house of Valois. A Visconti dynast descended directly from two Sicilian Kings, two Neapolitan Queens, and both Lombard and French royalty, her late husband (and thus their son) was additionally the offspring of a Tuscan Visconti and a Catalan Princess- the grandson, matrilineally, of Princess Margaret of Urgell, claimant to the Aragonese throne- and the Ivrean Dynasty, agnatic (if illegitimate) descendants of the defunct House of Savoy, an old and fairly well-established dynasty that had ruled in Piedmont and Savoy for centuries. By right of birth if nothing else, Charlotte had every right to claim most of Italy as her natural dominion, and she had far more than mere birthright behind her bid for hegemony.

    Charlotte’s integration of Tuscany was the obvious prelude to her next goal- expansion into the Emilia-Romagna, where she faced the hostility of the Duke of Este, who clung stubbornly to the cities of Bologna and Forli, strategically significant crossroads on the path north to Padania; Charlotte circumvented the need to strike north by dispatching her army by sea to Genoa, but she neutralized the Este by inciting a Venetian attack on the Duke, who had rashly refused to renounce his claims to Venetian territories. Venice judged- correctly- that the Provencals were not in a position to aid their wayward vassal, and with his territory under siege, the Este were obliged to abandon their alliance with Provence and retreat to defend their borders.

    What Giovanni truly desired was an alliance with the Venetians; his ambassadors weaved apocalyptic tales in the Doge’s court, couching the looming conflict as a mutually threatening Italian Hegemon, but the Venetians had little interest in continental affairs and enjoyed amicable relations with Naples. The Doge accepted the Provencal envoys and negotiated a truce settling their frontier on the Adda, but he also negotiated a separate agreement with Charlotte securing the cession of her claims vis a vis Greece and Dalmatia; Venice, for better or worse, was to remain neutral in the coming clash, although she did take the opportunity to occupy Bari and Brindisi in Apulia.

    Giovanni’s great problem was that his kingdom- politically fractious and sparsely populated- was not capable of sustaining a fiscally sophisticated administrative state of the sort that had emerged in northern Italy. Under a competent military leader, these provinces might nevertheless have served for the basis of a regional power of some significance, much as Navarre and Foix had become- and like both of those realms, the Alps boasted an unusually militarized population. Unfortunately, Giovanni lacked both administrative and martial acumen, and his treasury had been severely depleted by his prior wars with Matteo I of Lombardy. His greatest asset- his diplomatic authority as a Prince-Elector- was in 1450 militarily useless due to the diversion of both Burgundy and Luxemburg towards alternate affairs, and he would have to rely on his own resources. Thus, he fell back on the local powers, pawning royal territory to the ambitious Dukes of Ferrara, Mantua, Montferrat, and Saluzzo in return for their support; Ferrara had already by this time withdrawn from the war, and the Duke of Gonzaga also withheld support due to Venetian diplomatic pressure and his own cautious nature. Montferrat and Saluzzo were more assertive, but the latter was destroyed along with his army by the newly-enfeoffed Margrave Amadeus of Ivrea, and his territory overrun before Giovanni could arrive to relieve them.

    When the Provencal army emerged from Pavia, they did not necessarily intend open battle, but confronted by a dangerous invasion which had already destroyed one of his allies, King Giovanni realized that he had little choice but to meet the affront to his nominal sovereignty if he wished to preserve any form of influence over Italy, and he was able to outflank the Ivreans under Amadeus the Duke of Aosta, which tarried too long outside the walls of Turin and failed to appreciate the danger. Amadeus’ soldiers were force-marched south in a vain attempt to cross the Tanaro and reach the safety of the Ligurian hills before the Visconti, but found Giovanni and the Provencals blocking their advance. The fate of Italy for the following century was finally decided near the town of Alba.

    Giovanni had a larger army, and his soldiers were well-rested. His conquest of the Vaud gained him access to Swiss pike mercenaries, while he also fielded the formidable Lombard cavalry of the Marquis of Montferrat and the Visconti estates in Emilia.

    Despite his bluster, the Duke of Aosta knew that he had the disadvantage, and he decided to emplace his army by the banks of the river, using his missile troops to provoke a charge. Giovanni was unable to totally prevent this from happening but his Swiss committed to the battle after and a brutal melee around the trenches eventually broke through the Ivrean lines, King Giovanni himself participating in the intense fighting during the breakthrough. On the other side the Duke’s personal guard managed to prevent a total rout but his forces got the worst of the melee. By nightfall the exhausted Ivreans were clearly on borrowed time, their dead littering the field and their living almost to a man wounded and exhausted. The Duke nevertheless defiantly rejected calls for surrender, famously slaying his own horse. Nevertheless, he determined to attempt a forced crossing of the river at nightfall, catching the town of Alba off-guard; his men were able to effect entry into the gates and seize the city, which they brutally sacked. When morning came, Giovanni found his enemy firmly entrenched behind the city walls, the guns turned on his own camp on the hill overlooking the city; Giovanni made an attempt to force the walls shortly after daybreak but was repelled with heavy losses. The arrival of Neapolitan reinforcements the following day bolstered the spirits of the Ivreans. Now it was Giovanni who was in the position to consider withdrawal or negotiation. Giovanni determined to make his own crossing of the river, since he wished to put it between him and the Ivrean army, to say nothing of the potential threat from Genoa to the south. Giovanni’s soldiers did not account for the Ivreans’ own audacity; as his army attempted to cross, the Neapolitan cavalry emerged from Alba and charged into the Provencals. Although the Provence gave a good accounting for themselves, and the addition of the Swiss gained the advantage, the rest of the Ivreans joined the fray. On the muddy and bloody banks of the river Tanaro, on ground trampled thrice over by two armies, the knights of the Sicilian south came to grips with the finest and fiercest warriors of the Lombard north, trading lives for a blood-drenched victory against their bitterly valiant foes and damming the river with the corpses of friend and foe alike. Few armies fight as ferociously as one with its back to the wall; Italy, moreover- a land which had bequeathed to the world the name “vendetta”- was no stranger to deep-seated personal and political grievances. An entire generation’s worth of unquiet enmities was unleashed in the span of a single afternoon, reaping its bloody harvest. Among the slain was King Giovanni I Visconti, putative King of Provence and Lombardy, a corpse so mangled by hooves and halberds that it took two days before the minced remains were finally found among the slain, recognizable only by the broken crown atop his shattered skull.

    Charlotte did not execute her cousin’s heirs, but the terms she dictated effectively destroyed their common dynasty. Giovanni’s sole son and male heir, the three-year-old Galeazzo, became a ward of Charlotte and was tutored to become a member of the Church; Charlotte’s second son Amadeo was engaged to the late King Giovanni’s daughter Princess Emilia and proclaimed Duke of Lyons. A similarly deft hand was used against the tardy Duke of Ferrara, who had kept his soldiers in Romagna and seized Bologna, but now bent the knee and accepted the Queen’s pardon.

    In the meantime, the Venetians took the opportunity to finally destroy the County of Cephalonia and the Albanian princes, who had been bickering amongst each other like thieving rats while the tomcats clawed at each other in the alley across the street. But now the cat was back, and she had leashed a man to lay traps for her. Venice emerged warily and fretfully into an increasingly titanic Europe; where once she was an alley cat among kittens, the kittens had now grown into tigers, and in the coming years the Serene Republic required all of her cunning to win her own meals on the side. Part of that cunning was knowing how to toy with the mice- and when to kill them.

    Cephalonia had previously allied against Venice alongside Ladislao of Thrace, while the Albanians decided to support Venice, in return for a mutual alliance against Cephalonia, which was to be claimed by Venice while the mainland territories went to the Albanian League of Lezhe; this ultimately failed due to Genoese naval support at the battle of Zante, and the energies of Count Palatine [dude]s valiant efforts at the Battle of Arta, where he routed the Albanians. Despite this, Venice succeeded in expanding her holdings by subduing Valona and the cities of Andravida and Corinth in Morea. Flush with victory, the Count Palatine rapidly defected and signed an alliance with Venice; the Albanians, feeling cheated by the lack of adequate support or share in the spoils, signed a new alliance with the Serbs, thus bringing Venice and Hungary into agreement that the upstart nobles of the Southern Dinarics required a thorough chastening to bridle them. The Hungarians fell away after the death of their king, but on her own merits Venice crushed the Cephalonians and annexed the entirety of Epirus and Albania.

    Venice now had total control over the Adriatic Coast, but she had achieved more than this. She now had a string of excellent fortified harbors stretching from Pola right across from Venice all the way to Alexandria in Egypt or Constantinople in Asia and thence to the friendly waters of the Black Sea, dominated by Venetian holdings in Pontus and Gazaria and Venetian allies in Greece and Asia Minor; from Dalmatia to Albania to the Pelloponnese to Crete or Thessaly or Ionia or Cyreneica or Cyprus and then on to Acre (held by Venice) or Alexandria (controlled by Venice, even if they continued to treat the Mamluk Sultan as an esteemed allied King even as they stole his kingdom’s trade out from under him) or Antioch (held first by the pro-Venetian Crusaders, and then by the pro-Venetian Akk Qoyunlu), or even west (with potential stops at the friendly cities of Otranto or Ancona) Venice now could hop from Malta to Tunis to Algiers to the Baleares or Grenada and then beyond.

    The coming decades were to be marked by the breakdown in the tenuous power balance emergent in Europe after the long and bitter century of plague and warfare; much as the breakdown of post-Azzonian hegemony led to the vicious destabilization and backbiting between the powers in Italy, the Europe of Carlotta’s reign witnessed intense interstate competition as vague memories of half-forgotten foreign conquests and vestigial grievances merged with the concatenation of Europe into the nascent nation-states of modernity to carve into the marrow of Europa the first sketches of the empires they would build, first in their country and then on their continent and then onto their common brothers overseas. Expansion: art and science, culture and commerce, the height of civilization- birthed knowingly in the pursuit of vainglorious mortal glory achieved at terrible human cost. This was the Europe of the post-Medieval period, the Europe that the Visconti birthed and which marked their demise, the Europe in front of which Early Modern Italy forced her way to front of the table, however briefly and bitterly; it was a Europe that Venice and Portugal alone of the great powers managed to escape, both literally and figuratively.

    Venice was the sole power in this period to trade freely and uninterrupted with not only Italy and Aragon, but also the Spanish Kingdoms, England, the Low Countries, France, the Hanseatic League, and even the Kalmar Union and the Baltic territories of the sprawling Luxemburg Empire; apart from the temporary disruptions caused by Uzun Hassan’s wars in Iran and Tamlerane’s conquests three generations prior, trade with the east continued unbroken throughout the tumultuous sea changes in local rulers. Empires came and went; the Caliphate, Byzantium, the Seljuks, the Franks, Abbassids, the Mongols, the Ottomans, the Timurids, the Visconti- but commerce always continued, and Venice was the whale in the pond as far as Mediterranean commerce was concerned.

    Like a bathtub overflowing, Venetian expansion washed well inland, sweeping away the detritus of fallen empires. The wolves slaughtered each other and the lion had killed the weary victor and picked the field down to the bone. Her mainland territorial expansion thus seemed an inevitable conclusion to her triumph at sea; for whichever power controls the Mediterranean controls the contours of three continents.

    Victory brought Queen Charlotte the welcome headache of reorganizing Italy, and Piedmont and Emilia both proved particularly troublesome. Charlotte desperately wished to humble both her cousin and the local Dukes who had dared to defy her, but she was not yet in a position to make radical changes. Therefore, she took the partial solution of balancing the Lombard nobility carefully against each other. In Emilia, the Margrave of Ivrea gained Bologna, the Romagna territories of Rimini and Forli and the Emilian territory of Reggio, which had been a key strategic possession of the Lombard royal domain during the Visconti but was geographically extraneous to a Kingdom grounded upon a Neapolitan-Genoese maritime axis. The Este, like the other rebellious lords, were graciously permitted to retain their ancestral estates of Ferrara and Modena- Venice having seized Ravenna, this effectively stripped the Este of their gains during the war and reverted them to their original borders, although the Estate did retain Faenza in Romagna. Mantua gained nothing, the Queen judging the Duchy too militarily powerful to allow even Cremona, let alone Brescia or Bergamo, to be transferred to the Gonzagas from the royal domain.

    In Piedmont, Cuneo, Saluzzo, and Alessandria were consolidated into a new principality governed by her son as Prince of Etruria. Montferrat was compelled to surrender Asti to Ivrea and Tortona to the crown, and a strip of southern territory was annexed into the royal Duchy of Milan along with the former Genoese and Malaspina territories in Liguria. This created a compact block of territory centered around the critical royal estates in Pavia, Milan, Genoa and Turin, and ensured access from the coast to both these provinces and the critical Alpine frontier via royal dominions or the territories of the heir; alternate routes were divided between the Margrave of Ivrea and the Marquis of Montferrat in the west and the Margrave of Ivrea and Dukes of Ferrara and Mantua in the east.

    These grants solved several potentially dangerous problems: they precluded the claim of her ambitious uncle the Margrave of Ivrea towards greater gains in Piedmont, it won over the Montferrat and convinced them to willingly part with marginal mountainous villages on their southern frontier- indeed, Montferrat even pledged the use of his estates’ laborers to construct a new castle there. Montferrat’s expansion and the deft parceling out of territory to the crown prince in Tuscany and his uncle in Ivrea demonstrated an interesting aspect of Charlotte’s centralization of Italy, not dissimilar to how the Germanic Holy Roman Emperors had consolidated Italy centuries prior: the rewarding of regional catspaws with valuable territory that was not critical to the empire’s physical access to the province.

    Italy was a land with rich cities, many rivers, long coasts, high mountains, and good weather; it had ready access to agriculture, fishing, animal husbandry or mining in the mountains, and commercial trade both overland and oversea. Hence there was not a single part of the country that could not feasibly support a lord’s estates and support it well. And yet that same wealth also created problems; since the Italians like most people- were not generally inclined to meekly submit to feudal suzerains and- having directly inherited Rome’s ironic contempt for monarchies and simultaneous love of both virtuous senators and triumphant dictators- were perfectly willing to either dispense with their lord or support him to the death against a rival, depending on the fickleness of their passions, the skillset and character of the ruler, or general circumstance. Ample commerce, ample trade, high mountains, long coasts, and good weather also meant that a runaway peasant or rebellious baron could readily hope to either support their own treason by living off the land or simply moving somewhere else. Thus, both ruler and ruled understood the tactical, ruthlessly cynical calculation underlying their temporary (and potentially quite short and immediately fatal for one of the two parties) cooperation- the lord wished to exploit the people for his own profit, but he also needed those resources to defend himself against his neighbors and to avoid oppressing them to the point that they abandoned him for another; and the people wished to not be exploited at all but- understanding the inevitability of such- preferred a known factor in their current overlord to a vaguely comparable new sovereign down the lane, so long as he was not too arbitrary or too cruel.

    This process was common across Europe, and it is loosely named feudalism, but Italy had her own critical departures which changed the denoument- the realm did not have a single continuous ruler to ballast the nation against the tides of history. In lands such as England or France, the person of the King rapidly gained quasi-sacred status, buttressed by their familial continuity; kings were said to be able to cure afflictions with their physical touch, the Spanish monarchs were believed capable of exorcising demons, and kings were invoked at prayer across the realm. No such myths ever accompanied the Lombard kings, Azzone was not canonized despite attempts by his son; while the customary prayers were given, parish priests were during the Wars were frequently asked at Confession whether it was a greater sin to lie to God or to refuse the call to pray for their sovereign. The Visconti may have called themselves Kings of Italy, but they were closer to Greek Despots; the “Grand Dukes of Milan” never ruled as anything other than urban tyrants.

    To be sure, there were many crowned Kings of Italy during the Middle Ages, but many of those happened to be German and quite busy with affairs north of the alps. Making matters worse was the attenuating presence of Byzantium and the resurgent religious authority of the Caput Mundi- Rome; even the King of Italy, even when he was also Roman Emperor, had to be wary of such rivals.

    In the context of this lack of central authority, old republican virtues and autonomous civic self-government re-emerged in the High Middle Ages, dethroning first their own bishops, then their lords, then the Holy Roman Emperor himself and finally the Pope. The Visconti had swept through Italy and its environs with the cry of liberty on their lips- liberty from Verona in the Veneto, liberty from Florence in Tuscany, liberty from the German Kaiser in the north, liberty from the Pope in the south, liberty from Aragon in Sicily and Sardinia, liberty from Spain and civil war in Naples, liberty from the French King’s taxes in Provence, liberty from Zurich and in Chur, liberty from the German King in Geneva. These liberties were fundamentally transient, since it meant the replacing of one master with another; while Gian Galeazzo Visconti lived, this was a good trade to make, since his government brought peace and prosperity to Italy. To an extent, Azzone Visconti preserved the peace- he was strong enough to confront the Barbarians in their own lands and chasten them, pious enough to undertake crusade and fortunate enough to die a martyr after having defeated his enemies and sired many sons. But that promise too curdled; Azzone’s strength was his personality, his personal talent, his de facto unification of the Visconti patrimony owing to lack of adult peers in the dynasty, and the specific context of Europe at the time of his accession. By definition none of these factors persisted long after his death.

    During the vicious dynastic infighting of the Warring Vipers period, the Visconti, from desperation, fell back on civic loyalties during their feuding,; but this by definition undermined the very basis of their rule- that of preserving peace by ending all such feuds and monopolizing power. It was no coincidence that the sole Visconti line to persist through the end of the conflict was the Neapolitan, where the family rested their claim on a dynastic inheritance from Naples; and that inheritance was inherited in turn by the Ivreans, who transformed it into a militantly imperial beneficence justifying their expansion not only within Italy but across all of Christendom and even the world.

    The Visconti mastered Italy through force of arms, shrewd marriages, and control over the Church; fittingly, a Visconti matriarch unseated her own dynasty on behalf of her children through the same means, and it was she who finally attained the great prize long sought by the dynasty, attaining the prize only in the hour of the Visconti’s annihilation. Queen Carlotta was now the Queen Regnant of both Lombardy and Naples and mistress of most of the rest of the peninsula, uniting for the first time in history the many crowns of Italy in personal union.
     
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    In the Shadow of Charlemagne
  • In the Shadow of Charlemagne

    Although the Wars of the Vipers are said to have concluded with the enthroning of Carlotta in Pavia, the Visconti dynasty was not yet entirely extinct. In addition to Carlotta herself, the slain King Giovanni’s younger brother Count Azzone of Lyons still defied the Neapolitan queen from the far north of Royal Provence. Azzone had married Marie, the Queen’s half-sister-in-law by Margrave Emmanuel’s second (Bavarian) wife Julie, and may have had some expectation of fair dealings thanks to that connection, but Charlotte saw no reason to consider the broader Ivrean dynasty (apart from her husband’s uncle) as inherently akin to family, and on the contrary likely saw the match as reinforcing the danger Azzone posed to her and her regime- she feared above all allowing any cadet branch of the royal house to gain enough strength and influence and plunge the kingdom into a new round of conflicts either during or after her reign. Carlotta wished to grant Lyons to her younger son and so balance his eventual cadet branch against the Margrave of Ivrea and simultaneously establish the principle of strict primogeniture for all three major constituent crowns of her empire- there would be no more dynastic partitions as had caused so such mischief and grief under the Visconti.

    The desperate Count Azzone attempted to call upon foreign allies, most particularly France, Gascony, and Burgundy, but Charles of Lorraine was preoccupied with his ongoing wars in Westphalia, and Thomas of Aquitaine had only married a second son to Count Azzone’s daughter Joanna to secure his eastern frontier; Thomas saw no profit and much peril in testing the victorious and vengeful Queen of Naples. As for France, King Louis XI certainly was intrigued at Azzone’s offer of fealty but he was too slow to respond- while the French were still planning a potential campaign into the Rhone valley, the Neapolitans decisively defeated Count Azzone at the Battle of Vienne in 1451 and seized Lyons, subsequently executing the Count as a rebel and traitor and packing his son and heir off to a monastery on the island of Elba. Lacking a claimant or a casus belli, Louis abandoned his plans for an invasion of the Rhone and exchanged embassies with the new Queen of Italy.

    As for the Greek Visconti, they would come to a rather more tragic and protracted end. Ladislao’s demise and the depredations of Venice and the Hungarians came at a terrible time for Thrace- even as the western provinces slipped away, the Kingdom’s eastern frontier was increasingly menaced not only by the resurgent Karamanid Emirate but also the looming threat of the Akk Qoyunlu of Iran. While Ladislao’s heir King Alexander defeated the Karamanids at the Battle of Sinope in 1446, he was not his namesake’s equal- he and his army were subsequently defeated by Uzun Hassan at the Battle of Nikomedia in 1448, Alexander himself thereupon becoming the Sultan’s captive.

    The captive King allegedly offered to place his kingdom under tribute to the Iranians in return for his freedom, but it was too late- Alexander’s defeat was the final decisive blow against Visconti rule in Greece. An Albanian Condotierre by the name of George Castrioti betrayed and murdered Alexander’s brother, Duke Azzone of Thessaly, in early 1449, and that same year he seized control of Constantinople. After being legally adopted by the Dowager Empress Helena, he proclaimed himself regent for her young grandson, Alexander’s own son and heir Gian Maria. Whether Kastrioti was responsible for said grandson’s predictable “illness” and subsequent death, he certainly exploited the opportunity presented by it. Instead of seizing the crown for himself, Kastrioti proclaimed Helena’s daughter Irene a new Byzantine Empress and engaged her to his own son and heir. This was an extremely savvy political play by Kastrioti, since he not only purloined the legitimacy and popularity of Helena’s child as the direct heir of a Latin Visconti King and a Pontic-Greek Komnenoi Princess but enabled himself to downplay his own vicious power-grab as retroactively “protective” measure for the infant Empress. The hapless Duke Azzone of Thessaly was recast as a treacherous uncle slain by the loyal Albanian warlord before Thessaly could usurp his nephew- but not, it was sometimes whispered, before his sinister agents had poisoned said nephew. Officially, therefore, the Albanian coup wrapped itself in the guise of upholding and protecting the honor of the very royal line they had ruthlessly and opportunistically destroyed and usurped.

    All of this and more was relayed to the unfortunate Alexander in his languishing captivity. In the chronicles of Uzun Hassan’s dynasty the imprisoned “King of the Lombards” is painted as an almost pitiable figure saved from murder only by the Sultan’s charitable protection, a protection that by implication would do well to extend all the way to Italy. “Would that the Latin vipers treated their kin as well as the Caliph treats the infidels!” the King of Thrace wails in the Chronicle of the Hassanid Dynasty; thus, Uzun Hassan demonstrated his virtuous character, his many triumphs against infidel barbarians, and his mercy and magnanimity vis a vis even the most undeserving of foes. King Alexander of Thrace died, a wretched exile, in 1464, having lived long enough to witness the death and destruction of his own familial line in both Thrace and Italy and witness the denial of even the barest hope of vengeance denied to him, as Kastrioti’s victorious campaigns in Anatolia over the following decades led inexorably to the destruction of the Karamanid Emirate and the partitioning of Asia Minor between the two great conquerors: Skanderbeg and Uzun Hassan, Albanian-Rhomanian and Azeri-Persian warlords, now calling themselves respectively the Restitutor Romaniae and the Shield of Islam.

    Empress Carlotta, upon learning of her cousin’s death, reputedly exclaimed “Oh Tempora! Oh Mores!” This was a reference to virtuous Cicero’s lamentation of the Roman Republic’s moral degeneracy, but also perhaps a tacit admission of grief for the destruction of her family. Alexander had been the last trueborn Visconti apart from Carlotta herself; his death eliminated even the dim hope for the dynasty’s endurance into the Modern Era. Carlotta herself bore an uncertain amount of guilt for this deadly denouement, but on both a personal and historical level it is hard not to sympathize with her plight: the Empress of Italy certainly understood that her life’s work was to ensure that her children (the first of the Ivrean Monarchs) would inherit the earth- or at least, a significant fraction thereof- from her patrimonial relations.

    Whether Carlotta had a direct hand in Alexander’s annihilation is less clear. Certainly, she had supported Kastrioti both overtly and covertly from even the earliest days of his coup, seeing in him a useful tool to curtail Venetian influence in the Dinarics and simultaneously dispose of a potential claimant to Italy while her own struggle for the throne was not yet resolved. But that spoke less of a macro-historical thirst for intra-familial Armageddon than the savvy, if somewhat paranoid, politicking by a female monarch who had literally been born amidst the ruination wrought by her family’s vicious infighting. The Queen dedicated her reign to stamping out any and all threats- real and perceived- to her power and the sanguinary political settlement consecrated by the slaughter at Alba, both of which amounted, in her eyes, to a matter of personal survival for both herself and for her children, now left without a father by the same civil war which had scarred so much of the country she now ruled; she knew better than most how a sovereign should handle rivals, family or friend, foreign or domestic, and why violence needed to be deployed like a scalpel (or a viper’s fangs) in careful yet decisive doses before a new usurper could grow like a tumor in the marrow of the state. And yet for a monarch the most dangerous threats were also, by definition, the closest members of her family, a tragic contradiction which Carlotta embodied more than most of her contemporaries, and which certainly impacted her style of governance.

    The Visconti Viper surrounded the queen, reminding her always of her heritage; Visconti blood was in her veins, the Visconti crest was on every soldier and servant and city she ever commanded and a great many that she never saw as more than a line on a ledger; she awoke in Pavia to chambers emblazoned with the royal biscione, dined on silverware proudly etched with her dynastic sigil, wore garments bearing the family crest among many other heralds, all feeding nagging doubts in her mind that the power was not truly hers to command. But of course, true power was hers- by birthright, by conquest, by fact and by law, and for better or worse she would have to command it herself and by and for herself alone until the end of her days. Whatever lingering regrets she bore over the fall of her family she took to her grave and confessed to none but God.

    The Lombard Empress- last of the Visconti- took after her famous ancestor Gian Galeazzo in one respect above all else: like Gian Galeazzo, she was simultaneously a great and opportunistic warlord, yet also a deeply empathetic and cautious ruler, contemptuous of the trappings of war and famous principally for a peaceful and prosperous court grown fat, rich, and happy off the dividends of the Renaissance. Italy would involve itself in numerous foreign wars and rivalries in the latter half of the 15th century, but from Pavia to Palermo Italy itself would know an unprecedented tranquility during Carlotta’s reign, the unflinching eye at the center of Europe’s hurricane.

    Aragon was the principal rival squarely targeted by the Empress, and Aragon was an enemy which was not even remotely intimate personally or politically and thus shamelessly slaughtered in open battle- the Catalans were hated and despised by all in Italy, but especially the Genoese and Neapolitans who dominated the Empress’ court, for their invasion and occupation of Sicily and Sardinia and their “piracy” against the western coastline; it was fair turnabout in Charlotte’s mind for her to invade and occupy Aragon proper in retaliation. So long as the Crown of Aragon existed as an independent political entity, it would pose a clear and persistent threat to her control over the Italian Islands; conquest of the Balearics served to neutralize this threat, and additionally reward the Genoese, who were pressing hard for their Queen to personally champion and support their expansion into the western Mediterranean and beyond into the Atlantic littoral of Africa.

    Before Aragon could be confronted, the Queen first negotiated a commercial and military treaty with the Hafsid Emirate, responding diplomatically to the desperate pleas of the Knights Hospitaller after their defeat at the Battle of Sfax. The Knights were permitted to retain Tripoli and the island of Djerba, but the Queen did not descend upon Tunis with an army of wild Crusaders, as the Knights had desperately wanted; instead, she sent a gift-laden emissary and secured a favorable treaty. Ransoms for any captives taken by either power were standardized and streamlined, with both states pledging to underwrite risks of Mediterranean commerce undertaken by their sailors. The Genoese were given certain commercial privileges in the port of Tabarka and tariffs on exports from Africa (grain principally, and gold, slaves, ivory, gems, dyes, and horses from the Saharan caravan trade) or from Italy (alum dye from Latium, Sicilian sulfur for gunpowder, steel and weapons from Lombardy and Germany, woven wool and silk fabrics, sugar from Venetian colonies in Crete and Cyprus, and finished lumber goods, as well as wine for the Jewish residents in Tunis), and the two powers agreed to a mutual restriction on piracy vis a vis their common subjects. A Latin factotum in Tunis was established with plenipotentiary powers to resolve maritime disputes and mediate allegations of piracy as well as secure ransoms for any Christian slaves found at auction; Muslim captives in Genoa or other Italian cities controlled by the Empress were likewise to be released into Hafsid custody.

    The treaty was the crowning achievement of Emir Abu ‘Amr ‘Uthman. Coming to power at the tender age of sixteen after the untimely demise of his brother, he consolidated his position after the death of his grandfather in 1435 and brother in 1436, crushing a rebellion by his traitorous uncle and subduing the unruly Bedouin and Kabylian tribes of the Algerian desert. Called “the last drop of Hafsid Glory” by historians he succeeded in establishing Hafsid Africa into a major regional power and cementing Tunis as the largest and richest city of the Muslim world.

    Religious warfare mattered far less to either Carlotta and the Emir than stabilizing their realms and ensuring the continuation of mutually profitable trade, and the two famously struck up a cultivated correspondence along with the burgeoning economic ties linking their realms together; among other gifts, Empress Carlotta received from Tunis a pair of lionesses and a jeweled serpent carved from ivory and encrusted in emeralds and fine gold wire. The Emir received in turn a Bible (in Latin), a Torah (in Aramaic) and a Koran (in Andalusian Arabic) all printed in Venice and embossed with golden threads; the Queen also sent a pair of captive Alpine eagles, a saber of Milanese steel with a scabbard embossed with silver and pearls and a “spirited white stallion” along with a finely jeweled saddle. Such was the wealth and largesse possessed by the rulers of the two greatest powers of the Western Mediterranean and the mutual value their wise and magnanimous rulers placed on maintaining the peace; the relationship between Tunisia and Italy would not always be so amicable in the future.

    Venice also negotiated its own commercial and diplomatic treaties with Italy in this period, also stabilizing its frontier with the new Italian hegemon. Venice had occupied parts of Apulia and the Romagna during the chaotic civil war years and exploited the chaos in Lombard to seize Brescia, Bergamo, and Cremona. Venice now decided to return to the Italians Bari, Brindisi, and Otranto in Apulia and Rimini in the Romagna, under intense pressure from the Empress; Venice also withdrew her military and political support for the Swiss Cantons and the Duke of Mantua, who both otherwise had hoped to eek out a quasi-independent existence- his territory was subsequently annexed into the Republic, apart from the territory possessed by the Duke south of the Po, which was claimed by Italy. Finally, Venice agreed to support a conquest of Ancona, a defiantly independent republic on the Adriatic which had resisted Azzone Visconti eight decades prior but would now be forced to submit along with the rest of the Marche and Umbria- even the commune of San Marino, perched atop the Appenines, was invaded and annexed after it made the mistake of harboring rebellious exiles from Faenza, a deliberate statement of ruthless suppression emphasized by the deliberate slighting of the commune’s walls; San Marino was eventually rebuilt in the following century, but by then it was a sleepy rural community little different from any other in the Marche.

    The Empress did not particularly like the Venetians, but she trusted them not to harbor designs on her territory; Venice was a known quantity, and apart from the backlash to Matteo’s invasion had largely been content to remain behind their fortress walls and well-fortified rivers. Carlotta effectively negotiated an extension of the general partition arranged by her great-great-grandfather Gian Galeazzo extending north through Tirol- the Venetians regained Tirol (including Trento) and occupied Mantua, Brescia, Bergamo, and Cremona, shifting their new border west from the Adige to the Adda. Carlotta renounced all remaining Italian claims on Tirol, Croatia, Albania, Greece, and Jerusalem in return for an annual tribute payment; Venice had already annexed most of these provinces and by the end of the century would possess all of them and many more besides, justifying her empire in part thanks to this “Grand Cession” of legal rights and claims. Carlotta did retain Volarberg in western Tirol, which together with Bregenz, Sondrio, and Chur preserved Lombard access through the Alps to Germany; her purchase of Basel and Bern and subjugation of the remaining Swiss cantons of Zurich and Lucerne were clear outgrowths of this policy.

    Venice had good reason to consider renewing her agreement with Italy- affairs across the Adriatic were consuming her undivided attention. The County Palatine of Cephalonia fractured once again after the death of Count [], with the mainland Epirote provinces of Ioannina and Arta breaking free. Venice subdued Cephalonia by force and bought out the lord of Arta; while the Tocco line persisted in Ionannia for some time, from then on they remained vassals of Venice, like their erstwhile Albanian rivals to the north. Despot of the Morea likewise was forced to accommodate the Venetians; both men feared the warlord in Constantinople more than each other, and despite Venetian misgivings over the Moreote conquest of the Achaean strongholds in the northern Pellopponese, their possession of Durazzo, the Ionian Islands, Lepanto, Modon and Koron, Corinth, Argos, Athens, Euboia, and Thessalonika ensured that Venice remained the incontrovertible hegemon of the Adriatic and Aegean seas. The treaty signed ostensibly was one of friendship; in reality, much like had occurred with Serbia and Bulgaria to the north, the Moreote treaty inaugurated a lengthy period of Venetian hegemony south of the Danube. Indeed, the borders of the Dinaric peninsula remained remarkably stable, like those of Venice herself, a striking contrast to the many upheavals which wracked neighboring Europe, Mesopotamia, and North Africa in the coming decades.

    With her southern and eastern borders stabilized, Carlotta was free to turn her undivided attention west towards Iberia. Portugal’s king Henry had married the late king of Castille’s sister Eleanora, and he pressed her claim to Castille against both Charles of Navarre and Ferdinand of Aragon. Given her hostility to the Catalans, Queen Carlotta naturally threw her weight behind Portugal, cementing their alliance with the engagement of the Portuguese Princess Beatriz and her heir Archduke Carlo Amadeo of Tuscany, King-Elector of Provence and Prince of Etruria.

    The Duke of Ferrara was appointed to lead the expedition, reflecting the general rehabilitation of the surviving Grand Signoria- the great regional lords such as the Orsini and Carrara of Rome (the former, although stripped of Taranto, were allowed to retain certain family estates in Campania and Latium). Carlotta was willing to tolerate these men, so long as they were suitably pliant to her whims, and the Duke of Ferrara- chastened and chased back to his ancestral lands- was pliant enough for the Empress’s purposes.

    Ferrara was tasked specifically with seizing Valencia and then attempting to move north to occupy Catalonia in conjunction with the Gascons, but the defeat of a Gascon army by the Prince of Asturias and Heir of Castille Alfonso the Valiant forced Ferrara to improvise. Instead of withdrawing, he decided to go on the offensive, attempting to outflank the Spanish by seizing the city of Cartagena and then utilizing Grenada- a de facto Italian ally already, even if not formally co-belligerent- to gain access via land to Portugal. The Empress’s choice belied another, grander purpose- the Iberians alleged, and Italian documentation confirms, that the Empress’s agents were stirring up malcontents in Cordoba and the Guadalquivir Valley as a prelude to an annexation of those provinces. Her ultimate ambition was to make the Duke of Ferrara King of Andalusia, annexing Ferrara proper to the royal dominion, but the Portuguese literally stole a march on the Duke, and invaded Seville, triggering a general revolt in Castille’s southern provinces.

    In the meantime, Ferrara occupied Valencia after a grueling eleven-week siege; the assault, carried out via veteran Emilian soldiers against the seaward walls, was noteworthy both for the subsequent brutal sacking of the city and the significant use of heavy artillery.

    After taking Valencia, Ferrara needed to move south, but he faced a problem and an opportunity based on the rugged terrain, so reminiscient of Italy with its mix of mountains and rivers and valleys. The Castillans, he knew, had just defeated Navarre at the battle of Pamplona, and King Ferdinand of Castille himself was mustering an army at his capital of ; the Portuguese were co-belligerent and in the process of invading Galicia to the north, with their own king Henry planning an invasion to seize Caceres in Leon, while the Emir of Granada, although well-disposed to the Italians, was not prepared to join a war between Christians unless he was confident that the Christians would not simply make a peace over his head afterwards. Ferrara also knew that his Empress wished to bequeath to him Andalusia and he knew that her agents were active there; he also knew, or at least suspected, that both Portugal and Grenada might have designs on at least some of the territory. Finally, he knew that Valencia would probably be held, or at least held long enough, for him to strike south, and that his greatest asset was command of the sea.

    Therefore, he wished to hug the coasts but also move as quickly as possible to seize as much as Andalusia as possible, preserving his own forces and using them exclusively to seize territory in the hopes that the Castillans would spend their own fighting the Portuguese, or failing that, be forced to confront his own forces on his terms and in a time and place of his choosing. He therefore marched south, in the autumn blaze of the Mediterranean autumn, through the fertile Murcian countryside, his army roaming freely but conscientiously as they pillaged the countryside to sustain themselves, always aware of the need for time and caution for the enemy was everywhere and nowhere to be found- until and unless he chose to meet them.

    Ferrara had made a sound strategic judgment, but he did so on faulty information- King Ferdinand of Castille was not, as the Italians presumed, still mustering in his capital- he was marching in force against the Italians, and had commanded his northern army to reinforce him; the bulk of his army still remained in the west to deal with a possible Portuguese incursion, but the King had hoped with his haste to relieve Valencia before it fell, or failing that pincer the Italians between his army and the northerners. But Ferdinand’s gambit failed, and after joining with the northern force under Crown Prince Alfonso he found himself on September 15, 1455 confronting Italian army arrayed for battle against him on the northern bank of the Alharabe river near verdant Moratalla.

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    BATTLE OF MORATALLA

    Ferrara had not initially wished to do battle- his army was smaller than the combined Iberian forces; but judging that even if he escaped he could not hope to take Andalusia or entice Grenada into the war without first smashing his enemy, he decided to make his stand in the mountains of Moratalla. The Italians had their backs against the wall of the Baetic Mountains, the sea- freedom, life, home, escape- blocked ahead by the Spaniards; Ferrara had chosen his ground well, and fortified his position behind the river, and he exhorted his men to battle. “You proud sons of Italy, grandsons of Crusaders, heirs of the Romans, you shall conquer all you set your mind to,” he exhorted his soldiers, cavorting with them and raising his spirits, for they all knew that their lives now depended on victory over their Spanish foes. Ferrara, in response to calls for a negotiated withdrawal- Ferdinand was chivalrous enough not to call it a surrender- famously slew his own horse and sent its head to the Spanish camp, with the sole message: “I have no further need of this, for I shall conquer or perish this day.”

    The Spaniards, like the French, had a well-earned reputation for valor, but also a well-deserved reputation for hot-tempered impulsivity; Italians too could be impulsive, but bitter experience fighting amongst themselves taught them that the lion must possess the viper’s cunning to snag his prize, and that only a dictator’s brutally efficient discipline or a mutual love of country and liberty or both could allow such a quarrelsome people to work together. Ferrara had forced his quarrelsome troops into a corner, and he made them fight their way out, and they would do so over the corpses of innumerable enemies.

    Ferdinand’s attempts to force the river met with tenacious resistance, and Ferrara’s siege guns- he had deliberately chosen not to abandon them despite the ostensible gain in speed, since after all there was no point if he could not conquer Andalusia- and he now deployed them, less out of any expectation that they would cause substantial casualties but that they would provoke the Spaniards. Fortune however smiled on the Italians that day- Crown Prince Alfonso was among his retainers in the center when a fragment of a cannon ball- these were generally constructed of stone and it is presumed that just such a fragment was what slew the Prince- struck him through his eye while he had opened his visor to take a drink, killing him instantly. In a rage upon learning of his heir’s gruesome demise, Ferdinand rashly ordered a general frontal assault against the entrenched Italians, taking personal command of the center from his slain son; he was among the first to fall, his leg and his horse blasted out from under him. Ferdinand would survive and languish in Italian captivity for some time, but in many ways a death on the field of would have been a kinder fate, since he survived long enough to witness, among other things, the annihilation of his army.

    Ferrara’s victory at Cuenca cemented Italian hegemony over Iberia’s Mediterranean littoral, but its eventual results were perhaps less striking than the battle itself implied. The captive King of Aragon was made to sign away not only Valencia and the Balearics but also Grenada (then a Castillan protectorate) and the kingdom of Cuenca; he also relinquished Spanish claims to the Kingdom of the Canaries, which the Genoese occupied in conjunction with [lady] as an outpost in the Atlantic, albeit under protest from the Portuguese, who eventually forced a partition of the islands between the two powers.

    Ferdinand’s defeat and subsequent territorial concessions destroyed his base of support in Castille; he was after all an Aragonese claimant, not a king per se, and the lords of Castille saw no further use in remaining loyal to an abject failure. Yet neither were they inclined to favor the Portuguese. Henry’s little kingdom, much like Milan, was a dynamic realm centered on the urban court at Lisbon; the staunchly aristocratic Castillans had little love or respect for this foreign upstart, far too friendly with infidels and bankers. Henry did succeed at wresting control over Galicia in the north, a province never firmly attached to Castille, and he critically also made much progress in the valley of the Guadalquivir, seizing Seville; he also- to the everlasting fury of Ferrara, who justifiably felt that he had been robbed of the prize that he had literally staked his life to claim- secured the submission of Cordoba, whose citizens decided that they preferred the King of Portugal to either the Italians or God forbid Grenada. Andalusia still had many “Moriscos” or descendants of converted Muslims and Jews; the memory of the old Caliphates yet endured, as did resentment of the Castillan conquerors, and Henry’s studious courting of these disaffected elements fell on fertile ground. Ferrara did succeed at conquering Jaen, but his ultimate ambition of claiming an Iberian crown was denied to him by the machinations of his ungrateful sovereign and his self-serving allies.

    Ultimately neither Henry of Portugal nor Charles of Navarre succeeded at mastering the entirety of Castille, and the two finally agreed to Papal mediation to conclude the war. By the Treaty of Tolona in 1456, Castille and Aragon were partitioned between the four belligerent powers of Italy, Portugal, Navarre, and Gascony, the latter gaining only the “foreign” Occitan provinces of Montpelier, Foix, and Bearn. The captive Ferdinand remained at Charlotte’s court until the engagement of Henry’s younger daughter Isabella to the Prince of Asturias, Charles’ heir Carlos of Spain, cemented the marital alliance stabilizing Iberia between the three major powers; then the broken and useless Ferdinand suddenly fell ill and died, receiving a lavish funeral from the queen who had likely poisoned him.

    A further wrinkle blemished the territorial partition. Just as they had exploited Visconti ambitions to replace the Catalans as the dominant power in Sicily, Sardinia, and Corsica, the Genoese now took the opportunity to expand and entrench their position in Iberia and beyond. Already the Emirate of Grenada was counted as a Genoese client and ally; this was affirmed by negotiation between Castille, Portugal, and Italy, with the Italians additionally annexing Cuenca and Gibraltar in addition to their absorption of Valencia, Cartagena, Jaen, and Mallorca. The Genoese further interceded in the Canary Islands, occupying Tenerife against the vehement protests of the Portuguese. The islands had been contested between Castille and Portugal and the Portuguese had sought to take the Castillian interest in the islands as part of the alliance, but Genoa acted on her own initiative. The Genoese, after all, had been the first to visit the Canaries in the early 14th Century. Genoese sailors were rightly regarded as among the finest in Europe, and frequently plied the waters beyond the Pillars of Hercules, ranging as far north as the English Channel. To Genoese eyes, the Canaries were simply a new Gazaria, a clear replacement for the destruction of their holdings in the eastern Mediterranean.

    Carlotta’s government, like the Visconti before her and the Ivreans after her, depended ultimately on the political alliance between the autocrat in the capital (be that capital Pavia, Palermo, or Rome) and the urban oligarchs and rural gentry that predominated the countryside. The Genoese oligarchs always enjoyed a disproportionate influence over the government precisely because of the city’s clearly preeminent position and republican past; Genoa, like Rome, had invited in the Visconti to rule over them, and there was always the underlying expectation that they would be treated as something more than a mere dynastic appendage but a true corporate partner in the resulting state. Carlotta carefully cultivated her bases of power, but while this typically meant pruning potential rivals at home and abroad, it also meant adroitly courting and wooing these very same oligarchs and incorporating them into her government. Great Genoese families such as the Doria and [Colombo?] predominated the Latin Empress’s court, alongside Roman patrician families such as the Carrara and the Orsini; in Tuscany, families such as the Florentine Medici and Pazzi sat at the right hand of the King of Provence, and the barons of the Rhone and the Romagna (be they feudal or mercantile) filled the ranks of his entourage in both war and peace. Genoese and Lombard therefore quickly became the predominant languages of the imperial administration and government while Tuscan and Franco-Provencal dominated in Etruria and the Savoyard territories ruled by the Duke of Ivrea’s heirs.

    In Italy, far more than elsewhere in Europe, to be a great magnate was to court danger, as the fate of the Duke of Ferrara amply demonstrates: he was murdered- allegedly by the Duke of Ivrea’s men in a pique of rage. The Duke’s son swore revenge, but the Lord of Ivrea fell ill and died at the age of [age, old], and the Empress forced her two most powerful vassals to reconcile. The new Duke of Ivrea was forced to marry the Lord of Ferrara’s sister; to counterbalance this, a Visconti princess, the Queen’s daughter, was given to the Gonzaga Duke of Mantua, ensuring in principle that the cornerstone of Lombardy would remain loyal for at least another generation, come what may.

    There was of course speculation that the Empress had a hand in both mens’ demises, and it must be acknowledged that their deaths were quite convenient for her; as both a woman and a Visconti, Carlotta was always dogged with accusations of impropriety. Nevertheless, regarding the Duke of Ferrara’s death- unlike all other insinuations there is some evidence to suggest that Carlotta was indeed responsible for Ferrara’s untimely demise; as a victorious general of venerable lineage and possessing powerful estates, he was an obvious potential threat to the throne, and his removal pre-empted the risk of a praetorian coup by the Lombard military, however slim such a risk may have been. She may have had no hand in her uncle’s death, but she handled it as adroitly as always- in a lavish ceremony in Pavia, the Latin Empress enfeoffed the late duke’s four eldest sons with equal ducal ranks- Savoy, Ivrea, Aosta, and Piedmont. A fifth became the autonomous count of Cuneo. The fragmentation of the Margraviate of Ivrea would have dangerous and somewhat unforeseeable consequences in the coming decades, but in the short term it eliminated the most obvious threat to the throne. Carlotta also confiscated Forli at the extinction of the last of its ruling counts. Although not as grand as Bologna or famous as Ravenna, Forli was a critical crossroads at the heart of Emilia-Romagna. Carlotta’s decision to retain it in the royal domain was thus a clear intention to reinforce the geopolitical solidarity of the core provinces of Campania, Latium, Tuscany, and Lombardy, the four pillars upon which the Empress’ imperial, royal, and dynastic authority ultimately depended. For the same reasons she forced the Duke of Ferrara to concede Modena, in exchange granting him Ravenna and the southern territories seized from Mantua; the Duke Mantua was promised the Marche of Ancona, while the Duke of Urbino abdicated his lands and received the Duchy of the Abruzzo in Naples. This consolidation gave the Empress a solid block of territory stretching from Latium through to the old Pentapolis, following in effect the old Byzantine Exarchate; together with Emilia, this linked the two cities of Milan and Naples via direct overland route through Rome, in addition to the route through Tuscany (controlled by the heir) and the seaborne route (controlled by the Genoese, a territory under the Empress’s personal jurisdiction.

    Carlotta’s great empire was thus divided into four main legal categories. The “Imperial Lands” were the crownlands of the monarchy, directly administered by and for the Empress: Campania in the south, Latium in the center, Lombardy in the north. Special consideration must be given to Genoa and the islands of Sardinia, Corsica, and Sicily, which operated under distinct legal systems. The Genoese government was seamlessly integrated into the Ivrean monarchy, the Doge merely replaced with an Imperial Podesta with viceroyal powers. The Island Kingdoms were governed as separate crownlands; the Bastard Enrico’s “Sicilian Cortes” were preserved. The cities and barons of the island sat in benches- divided into the Free Cities of Messina, Syracuse, and Palermo, the “Franks” and the “Latins.” In reality, the distinction between the latter two was mainly a legal technicality- the former had a handful of perks, such as the right to bear arms in the presence of the Empress.

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    Italy’s newfound cohesion contrasted sharply with French stagnation. France had lost her southern provinces and lost her harsher taxes in the north- the slighting of the hated Gabelle; this led to a precipitous decline in royal revenues, which in turn led to a precipitous decline of Paris, whose industries and culture were always built around servicing the King and the Court. France moreover lost her northern Atlantic provinces- in retaliation for his “little cousin’s” decision to side against him in a future Continental conflict, the Burgundian monarch Charles imposed onerous export tariffs against “foreign” and “hostile” nations, a measure which cut off Paris from the agricultural and mercantile bounty of Picardy, Artois, and Flanders. Nor could the King in Paris retaliate in kind- the political “constitutionalism” forced on France by John the Fearless prohibited the King from raising either taxes or tariffs without the express approval of the affected provinces; the King was not capable of forcing the merchants of Caen to cut off their ties with England or Flanders. As for Brittany, like Gascony to the south its duke increasingly acted the part of an independent King, freely negotiating treaties with foreign powers such as England and Spain. France’s political infirmity was amply demonstrated by the decision of St Malo, a Breton community nominally subject to both the King in Paris and the Duke in Nantes but de facto independent from both of them- negotiated a commercial treaty with Emperor Charles in 1459, in which he was described as “our dearest and most valiant friend and sovereign Emperor.”

    Carlotta’s careful cultivation of a satisfactory arrangement in Italy and Iberia and her revival of the defunct Latin Empire occurred against the backdrop of Emperor Charles of Burgundy’s successful invasion and conquest of the British Isles. Charles’s [mother/wife?] was Princess [blank] of England, a marriage which King [king] had valued at the time as a natural progression of Anglo-Burgundian rapproachment, but the sudden death of the Prince of Wales and Henry’s own demise shortly thereafter transformed a sensible match into the instrument of England’s subjugation. Henry’s sole surviving son was the crown and anointed king of Scotland; and while the Scots had grudgingly accepted a Plantaganet sovereign as the price of their continued independence, they had forced him to renounce his claims to the English throne in the bargain- if King [King] intended to press his claim, he would have to either abandon Scotland or simply use the opportunity to conquer and despoil Northumbria. Henry’s daughters were married to King Eric of Denmark and the Kalmar Union, whose claims were totally ignored by everyone other than Eric, and to Duke John of Lancaster, who put forward his own claim on that basis and as an agnatic descendant of King Edward III.

    Lancaster had a strong claim and was certainly favored by the English; but Charles had the deepest pockets and the biggest armies and he acted audaciously, dispatching his son John the Count of the Rhine to seize Calais while he himself launched an invasion England from Flanders. Charles entered London in 1456 not as a conqueror but to a rapturous welcome by the city. For whereas the English nobility favored Lancaster, London was firmly behind Burgundy- Emperor Charles, after all, was not merely a French prince or the German Kaiser, but first and foremost the Count of Flanders and ruler of the Low Countries, whose industries were long of vital economic importance to the British. Greeting his new subjects in fluent Brabantian Flemish, he pledged to uphold the laws and customs of England and to succor her commerce at home and abroad.

    Duke John necessarily had to be confronted; Charles, eschewing all compromise or diplomacy, deliberately sought out a battle, spurning all attempts at negotiation. A somewhat quixotic request for personal combat between champions was rejected, but battle was joined near Lincoln. The Lancastrians traditionally were competent soldiers and the Duke acquitted himself well, but the outcome was never in doubt- Charles was a valiant and veteran commander, Charles’ army was twice the size of the English, and substantially stronger in every way- combining crushing heavy cavalry supremacy (both quantity and quality) with an elite core of infantry composed of veteran Genoese and German mercenaries, all well-honed by fighting together in the Emperor’s frequent campaigns in Swabia and the Rhineland. Duke John himself was captured and much of his army put to flight, many turning cloak and accepting the King’s pardon. Charles, somewhat surprisingly, not only effusively praised his vanquished rival, but agreed to reinstate him as Duke of Lancaster, demanding only a public display of homage and enfeoffment before the English Parliament and the Duke’s son as a ward.

    Charles’ seemingly inexplicable decision to spare a captive claimant makes more sense when one appreciates that he had no interest in the actual governance of England. Like Roman Emperor Claudius’s invasion of Brittania, Holy Roman Emperor Charles’ invasion of Britain was in effect a glorified propaganda stunt- a way for him to bolster his image as a victorious warrior-king, valorous in battle and magnanimous in victory. Charles was correspondingly less concerned with consolidating Burgundian control over England than in achieving his conquest as quickly and cheaply as possible. Releasing the captive Duke of Lancaster in a striking display of chivalry and having him kneel and proclaim Charles king in a vibrant public display was a masterpiece of late medieval propaganda, and it had the desired effect of bolstering Charles’ reputation at home and abroad; known to England as Charles the Conqueror and the continent as Charles the Chivalrous, he was considered even by his many enemies to be a worthy example of European nobility.

    To the east, the sprawling Luxemburg Imperial Eagle continued to sink her talons deeper into the corpse of Russia, tearing massive flanks of territory out of the corpse of Rurikid ambitions. Poland’s conquest of Muscovy eliminated the major threat to her control of Ruthenia but simultaneously exposed her frontier to the fluid menace of the Steppe. The Khan of Kazan exploited the collapse of his western rival to seize Nizhny Novgorod from an unwary Luxemburg garrison, and after defeating a Polish relief army took Moscow as well after the city revolted and opened its gates, preferring the Tatar Yoke to the Polish Mitre.

    The Khan’s triumph in Muscovy and subsequent tour de force through Ruthenia unhinged Poland’s entire eastern frontier. Tatar raiders made it as far as Lublin before being repelled- and helped precipitate a new uprising in Lithuania, where a “false Vytautas” emerged and rallied the disgruntled Lithuanians under the leadership of a putative Jagellonian prince. The False Vytautas enjoyed the tacit support of both the Khan of Kazan and King Eric of Denmark, the latter of which still strongly desired an independent Lithuania as a buffer between the Luxemburg Empire and his own holdings in Livonia. Poland was still a great power, however, no matter her temporary political and military infirmity- too great of a power, for now, to be so brazenly challenged in her own backyard- and the False Vytautas was eventually defeated and slain at the battle of Vilnias in 1459 after a lengthy eleven-month insurgency. As for the Khan, upon his death in 1460 the Muscovites took the opportunity to revolt a second time and restore their independence, inviting back a Rurikid prince from his exile in Novgorod. Poland agreed to negotiate rather than attempt a new invasion, but insisted upon retaining the Khanate of Qasim to the east, the lands of which had been seized from Moscow by Poland during the conquest and granted to the Khan as a buffer state. Poland additionally demanded that Muscovy forever renounce her claims to all territory in Ruthenia. Moscow’s defiance of the Church Union may have assuaged her pride, but it cost her dearly compared to more pliant principalities such as Novgorod or Pskov, which were rewarded by the Poles with new territory seized from the Muscovites and favorable trade deals with both Poland and the Kalmar Union.

    The most egregious insult to Muscovite eyes was not merely that the other Russian principalities were elevated above them (at most, the ambassador grudgingly conceded, it might be acceptable to consider them all on the same equal plane) but that they were placed on the same level as heathen Kazan and well below the emissaries of Iran. From the Polish perspective, however, it was simply more important and worthwhile to impress upon a foreign emperor their own wealth and power than to coddle the delusions of a rebellious backwater prince, a prince who continued to defy the Polish sovereign and the Polish Church.

    Uzun Hasan, King of Kings and Caliph and Protector of the Dar al-Islam, signed a treaty of friendship and goodwill with the Polish Queen Regent agreeing to renounce his interests in the Khanates of Crimea and the Volga and Don Basins. The Luxemburgs reciprocated by renouncing their vestigial claims to any former Crusader territory in Anatolia or the Levant (this included dropping the vestigial Angevin claim- inherited by the Luxemburgs via marriage, analogous to the Neapolitan Visconti- to the Kingdom of Jerusalem) and accepted the Kings of Trebizond and Georgia as Persian clients. The Hasanid Empire also gained recognition for their dominion over the fractious Circassian tribes and Georgian Principalities, the Despotate of Trebizond, and the Khanate of Kazan. In return, Hasan accepted Polish control and influence over the Crimea and the Russian steppe, including Astrakhan and the Qasim Khanate.

    It was perhaps somewhat embarrassing for a Christian king (let alone the son of a Holy Roman Emperor) to “abandon” fellow Christians to a Muslim power; moreover, accepting any Iranian influence north of the Caucasus arguably defied the basic geostrategic logic of that natural frontier, but Queen Regent [x] was determined to negotiate, because she wished to conduct a new campaign against the Crimean Tatars and the Khanate of Astrakhan and was anxious above all else to keep Iran from interfering in this campaign. Ordermaster Ludwig of the Gothic Teutonic Knights agitated hard for such a campaign as a natural extension of the Teutonic annexation of former Genoese colonies of Kaffa and Azov and the subjugation of the Crimean Peninsula. The Order profited immensely from the growth of Black Sea trade under the Venetians and the influx of fresh manpower from Central Europe; the waxing economic and military strength of the Latins as opposed to the continued disintegration of the former Golden Horde was too substantial and obvious an opportunity to ignore, particularly not for a monastic order long accustomed to acting on behalf of “God, Glory, and the firm desire to become rich.” Poland too favored a war with the Khans- the Kazani raid was merely the latest and most egregious transgression against Poland’s southern provinces and the Grandmaster’s argument that establishing a new border fortress on the Volga would counteract this danger was viscerally persuasive. The war, moreover, offered the opportunity for plunder and glory in a religious war against barbarian infidels, always welcome for a dynasty still largely operating in the ideological worldview of the Medieval period, which valorized successful contests of arms against “heathens” or other outsiders.

    Once the possibility of Persian interference was removed, the overall outcome of the campaign became, if not entirely inevitable, then certainly quite predictable. The rump of Crimea was overrun by the Teutonic knights ranging far and wide from their new fortresses along the Black Sea Coast; the Crimean Tatars were given the choice of conversion or exile, and a mix of German, Bohemian, and Wallachian colonists subsequently invited to settle in the province. Astrakhan itself, seated atop the Volga Delta, fell to determined Polish assault on [date] 1461. A new fortress was raised and estates along the river parceled out to Magyar and Polish nobility; as in Crimea, the region saw an influx of western- predominately German- colonists lured by political privileges and tax concessions to further buttress the newest frontier of Christendom. The colony was named after the Patron Saint of Poland, who according to legend was seen above the city on the hour that the walls were finally breached; the German mercenary who ostensibly witnessed this was, according to Polish sources, subsequently martyred, while the Germans insist that he lived long enough to sire various children, from which future German barons fancied their descent. Regardless of the truth of the matter, the city of Astrakhan was renamed to [Patron Saint] and the feast day celebrated for the first time within the still-smoking ruins of Astrakhan, the first instance of a major civic holiday celebrating the city’s “foundation.”

    This campaign had only been possible because the Polish government was confident of Persian neutrality. Hassan had had his own reasons to seek a rapid diplomatic rapproachment with Poland- he wished to keep his powerful northern neighbor from backing the strikingly formidable alliance of George Kastrioti of Thrace and King Henry of Jerusalem. Henry suffered his first and only defeat in battle against a vastly superior host of Uzun Hassan in 1453, in which Henry had audaciously attempted to ambush the numerically superior Persians near Damascus. Seeing that his host was crumbling, Henry- refusing to quit the field- instead plunged into the fray and charged Hassan’s own entourage with his personal retinue; after Henry was captured, Hassan- effusively praising Henry’s piety and bravery- signed an agreement with him in which Henry became a client king, with a Persian garrison in Jerusalem to guarantee the peace. After Kastrioti’s stunning victory against a numerically superior Hasanid Army at the Battle of Ankara the following year, Henry broke his tribute and began marshalling for war. In a famous display of mutual admiration and knightly honor, Henry not only refused to attack the Muslim soldiers in Jerusalem but personally escorted them from his kingdom, leaving the bemused Turks at Edessa with rich gifts, a royal ambassador, and a polite declaration of war written personally to Uzun Hassan in flowery Arabic. Henry courteously paid his remaining tribute for the year, reiterated his pledge to honor “all the stipulations of our agreement save for the requirement not to shed each other’s blood, which I do for the sake of God and no further than necessary to establish a just peace” and further promised not to attack Hassan for a full year subsequently; Hassan responded with a personal letter of his own written in Greek agreeing to the temporary truce and praising Henry’s own integrity and piety, responding in similarly regretful pledges to treat his foes honorably and kill only as many necessary to force the Franks back to their knees where they belonged.

    Both Hassan and Henry had bigger enemies to confront before they might seek to take the field against each other- indeed, they never would face each other in battle again. Kastrioti’s victory left him in command of the Central Anatolian plateau, and already the Sultan heard rumors of Albano-Roman emissaries in Trebizond and Tlbisi; he would have to respond personally and decisively to secure his rule over Anatolia and prevent the province from scurrying off towards Constantinople’s embrace, and the irksome defiance of what was, bluntly, a minor “Frankish” warlord with delusions of his own self-importance was comparatively low on the Caliph-Emperor’s priority list. Henry, for his part, knew that ending his tributary status opened him to the dangers of renewed warfare with the Mamluks. He therefore returned rapidly from Edessa to take command of an army already mustering for a campaign against Egypt.

    In the late evening of March 4, 1455, as Empress Charlotte’s armies were sweeping through Iberia far to the west, Henry and a small group of handpicked retainers crossed the Sinai desert with the aid of a Bedouin shepherd. Riding through the night, King Henry and his retainers- perhaps no more than two or three hundred- surprised Damietta and overcame its garrison without encountering any substantial resistance. The remainder of Henry’s army marched south along the coast the following day, peacefully occupying Damietta without incident; later scholars revealed that the garrison commander was bribed ahead of time, a detail conveniently left out of contemporary retellings. Henry’s risky gambit was- bribery or no- incredibly fortunate to have succeeded as well as it did. The daring night ride was conceivable only for a man as audacious as Henry and with as firm a commitment to his own divine destiny; upon being advised that he should take the less personally dangerous command of the main host or simply not split his forces and try to take Damietta conventionally, Henry famously replied that “he was a soldier of Christ prepared to fight and die for his God and his subjects” and insisted upon risking his life by personally leading a night attack.

    Henry’s gambit was not merely a strikingly Romantic display of chivalric prowess (or perhaps, more accurately, a propagandistic act of military chicanery)- it had an audaciously brilliant strategic sense underlying the gamble. Although Damietta likely could have been taken with a conventional siege, only a surprise attack would allow the city to be taken quickly and without much loss of life. Henry’s small and demographically fragile army, such as it was, could barely hope to survive the Persian onslaught; even Alexander of Macedon could not have won against both Iran and the Mamluks of Egypt simultaneously. Henry needed to force a peace with his southern neighbor before Hasan invaded the Kingdom of Jerusalem from the north, and that required speed and surprise above all else- nothing else would permit a peace settlement fast enough to respond to the threat from Persia. Thus, Henry staked his life and legacy on a daring ride into Egypt; his reward was crossing 140 miles of open desert at night and capturing Damietta in less than twenty-four hours without losing or killing a single man, a military miracle which ignited the minds of contemporaries and continues to burn in the ideological torches passed down through to their descendants.

    Henry’s careful preparations also bore ripe fruit thanks to the assistance of mercenary Dalmatians, who provided crucial naval support and active intelligence even before Venice herself formally allied with him in his conquest of Egypt. Venice under Loredan had heretofore taken a formal policy of strict neutrality in the dangerous dance of the Levant; she had expressly forbidden any of her subjects to enter the service of any lord or nation in the region, effectively barring Italians from becoming mercenaries in the east given the total dominance Venice had over maritime trade. Henry and the Dalmatians circumvented this by pointing out that the Venetians did not extend full citizenship to the Dalmatians outside of Venice’s borders- thus, the Dalmatians were not legally Venetian citizens in his kingdom nor in the Mamluk territory, and thus could not be bound by its laws.

    Venice responded to her ostensible legal “defeat” with a petulant blockade of Lebanon, but commercial sense quickly won out over piqued pride. Henry’s excuse of “you are not truly sovereign over the Dalmatians who happen to be in my territory” may have rankled, but he was hardly threatening an invasion of (or even tacit support for a rebellion in) Dalmatia. Rather, as the Venetians grudgingly acknowledged, he was merely trying to present himself as a law-abiding king who dealt honestly with friend and foe alike- and Venice always appreciated an honest conqueror if he was willing to do honest business with them while conquering more territory, territory incidentally also opened to their trade in the process of said conquest. And the other, far more dangerous, implication of Henry’s statement was that the Mamluks were equally capable of legally hiring Dalmatians as mercenary sailors and spies, and that Venice would therefore be confronted with two Levantine states locked in an existential struggle competing over her affections even as they shanghaied her merchants into military service on both sides of the war. The only choice left was to back one of the two sides; and since business partners were to be well-treated or destroyed, that meant Venice had to pick one side and back them to the hilt against the other to the bitter end, or else see her vital eastern commerce deteriorate or even cease entirely. The heavy-handed Mamluk response- attempting to levy a tax on Venetian commerce (arresting or expelling the Venetians was no longer possible; they were far too numerous and too critical to the local economy) thus predictably triggered a Venetian declaration of war.

    Venice seized and occupied Alexandria and supported Henry’s attempt to besiege Cairo with a fleet deployed down the Nile, but Henry’s gambit ultimately failed due to his own mortality; King Henry of Jerusalem, last and greatest of the Crusader Kings, perished of dysentery in the siege camp outside of Cairo on April 14, 1455, dying within sight of his greatest triumph.

    Venice found herself temporarily stuck holding the bag- nominally at war with Egypt but no longer in a position to conquer it. The solution came from within Cairo itself- the Mamluk sultan was overthrown in a palace coup, but his heir managed to flee to the Latin camp, and in return for Venetian support in reclaiming his rebellious capital he promised them a blank check. Thus began a lengthy Venetian protectorate over Egypt and the Levant, and thus concluded the centuries of bloodily byzantine Mamluk instability; while in theory the succeeding Sultans still faced the same uncertain succession, in practice any would-be usurper had to deal with the latent hostility of Venice to any disruption to the profitable status quo, and Venice had an iron grip on the Nile Delta and Egypt’s foreign commerce and a preponderant influence over Egypt’s internal economy. Even as the Mamluk Sultanate continued to nominally govern itself, its foreign diplomacy and economic interests became the dominion of the Venetian Doge, his “deepest friend and brother.”

    Venice had by now internalized the realization, obvious to posterity, that the Mamluk Sultanate was a sinking ship desperately in need of ballast to keep from capsizing. Venice had preferred, initially, a weak and decrepit Mamluk state to any obvious alternative, since the Mamluks were a known entity and one contemptuous and ignorant of trade, always happy to leave the Venetians to carry on their commerce in peace; Venice had exploited Mamluk dysfunctionality and disinterest to seize control over not only the littoral commerce, but even the trade routes in the interior- Venetians were ubiquitous in the Hejaz as early as 1422, acting as protectors and patrons for the vital Arabian trade caravans and also secondarily the lucrative Hajj pilgrimage routes; since the Mamluks and other native states were unable and unwilling to maintain order over this crucially sensitive province, the Venetians- with their extensive maritime and diplomatic connections- served as the obvious intermediary, negotiating tribute with the Arab tribes in the interior to avoid any disruptive banditry and signing separate treaties with the Mamluks, the Crusaders, the Italians, the Iranians, the Turks, the Greeks, and anyone else with a finger in the pie regarding both commerce and pilgrimage, and the unmolested exercise thereof. Many of the mutual treaties regarding the safety of pilgrims of all faiths- the vaunted chivalry of Henry and Uzun Hassan- were little more than the propagandistic proclamations of kings and caliphs whose subjects were already amply protected by Venetian bribes and Venetian bureaucrats. Pilgrims to the Holy Land were after all typically among the wealthiest and most influential of their respective societies, and thus they were both inherently valuable trade partners and obvious targets for banditry. Thus, pilgrims tended to attach themselves to the well-protected and numerous trade caravans which were practically synonymous with the Levant, and thus Venetian commercial interests and the self-interest of the devout Muslims and Christians of the east both demanded unmolested travel throughout Southwest Asia.

    Only Venice could supply this commodity- the ironclad guarantee of safe passage- to all the peoples of the region, because only Venice was a merchant state, rather than a conquest state such as the Hasanids were building and Kastrioti and Henry both ultimately failed to build; Venice was quite accustomed to selling her goods to all peoples of all faiths, and Venice was known and trusted for such by all peoples of all faiths for scrupulously honest and reliable dealings and dialogue with all peoples, faiths, cultures, and creeds; her word was as valuable as her ducats when it came time to make a deal or a contract, and her ducats spread as rapidly and ubiquitously as her words alongside her commerce. What was an Empire if not the buying of safety with submission? Venice came into the east as merchants usually and occasionally as conquerors; when they eventually departed the Levant, as all states (foreign or domestic) eventually do one way or another, they did so as the esteemed former emperors of the Broken Crescent.

    Where Islam once spread from Arabia west into Africa and East into India, north into Anatolia and south into Malaysia, now Venice would laboriously spread the banner of the Lion of St Mark without the fanfare of any Roman Triumph or triumphant Khan; in place of the fiery warriors of faith, in place of the most royal and chivalrous knights and the most red-handed and barbaric of tyrants, lowborn mercenaries chosen by parsimonious bankers would rule from the palaces of ancient kings and glorious conquerors, ruling over the many temples of gods old and new, and ruling over the many diverse peoples who in the past once built and destroyed both of those things and each other in an undulating tide of empires rising and falling as predictably as the Nile. The power of imperious integrity- of ruthlessly honest and honestly ruthless dealing- in time won for Venice Europe’s greatest empire since Rome and the first modern colonial empire in the world, the empire which all subsequent global powers only emulated without ever exceeding, as their ostensibly glorious imperial capitals always emulated and never exceeded the austere and romantic majesty of Venice in the prime of her worldly glory- the famed city of canals forged from the refuse of Rome’s ruination, refugees- Roman and barbarian alike- from the many troubles and upheavals of the mainland. So Venice was at her birth; so she was during her many days basking in the imperial sun, and so she remained throughout even the darkest days of her inevitable fall from imperial grace. For the nation and the city of Venice both endured even as the Serene Republic of Venice foundered against the harsh cliffs of empire, and the Venetians as a people endured also, a testament to humanity’s capacity to adapt to the most trying of circumstances and forge anew the light of cultured civilization from even the rankest and most bloody barbarism.

    While the east bled itself against Islam in the blinding twilight of Crusader chivalry, the west buried its’ collective hatchets in the shambling corpse of Charlemagne’s legacy. Charlotte’s claim to the Latin Empire was eventually endorsed by the other electors at the elevation of Charles’ son John to the throne in 1458. The new emperor gained unanimous election thanks to the relative youth of King Sigismund III of Hungary and the domination of King Carlo Amadeo of Provence by his formidable mother; Carlotta and the Luxemburgs both opted for political and territorial concessions instead of grasping at the chimerical specter of vestigial dominion. Carlotta gained the cession of the former Swiss canton of Bern and the counties of Breisgau, Basel, and Macon as well as Burgundian support for her war against the defiant Swiss Cantons, completing the process of territorial consolidation which marked the first stage of her reign. Just as importantly, she was formally acknowledged for the first time as Empress of the Latins.

    The “Holy Roman Empire” which devolved into a college of usurpers during this period bears some retrospective discussion. Medieval Europe conceived of Empire in an explicitly Post-Carolingian and Post-Roman context; the translatio imperii created a legal fiction of unbroken continuity between the Western Roman Empire, the Carolingians, and the Ottonians, and thence between the medieval and ancient Rome. Emperors were conceived of as the supreme monarch of the Christian world. Three men of this era- Charles of Burgundy, Sigismund II of Hungary, and Azzone of Naples- each lived in the shadow of Charlemagne. Each sought to carve their own names in the annals of history, and each succeeded in doing so; yet none succeeded in fashioning a durable continental hegemony. In the intervening centuries following Charlemagne’s death, Europe had grown too rich, too proud, and too large for any single sovereign to control the entire continent without choking his empire to death in the process. Therefore, the three dominant powers which emerged in the tumultuous 15th century took the innovative step of elevating themselves to co-imperial triarchy independent of the increasingly ramshackle Carolingian creation, inventing a legal hegemony to justify their de facto domination of European affairs.

    Carlotta’s claim, at least, was legally well-founded: she boasted direct hereditary descent from the defunct Latin Emperors, which in turn claimed inheritance of the territory of the Byzantines. Italy, Burgundy, and Naples were naturally politically cohesive, a compact coastal conglomerated set of kingdoms sharing a common history and a common culture, both with strikingly imperial implications owing to their long association with the Carolingian and German crowns. All three had been linked together via the Gothic, Lombard, and Frankish crowns; all three were accustomed to paying lip service to a distant post-Ottonian Emperor in Germany; all three were both imperiled and empowered by the fragmentation of German imperial authority and the intrusion of French (via Provence and Naples) and Spanish (via Sicily and Sardinia) conquerors. Marseilles was literally and metaphorically closer to Pavia than to Paris and readily acceded to the seismic shift which Azzone’s conquest unleashed in Occitania; not for nothing did the Visconti, after conquering the province, face no difficulties in governing it beyond its political fragmentation and the might of the regionally potent Swiss and the Savoy, the latter of which eventually unseated them.

    In contrast, the titles of Emperor in Britain, Emperor in France, Emperor in the Norselands, and Emperor in Sarmatia were true innovations, driven by sheer geopolitical expedience. The Luxemburgs always acted in the vein of Holy Roman Emperors even (or especially) when they did not actually possess the title, and Poland desperately needed the legitimizing prestige of an imperial honor to buttress her de facto domination over her eastern neighbors, many of which still clung to the Byzantine Orthodox faith and were correspondingly ill-inclined to meekly accept a mere Catholic King as their sovereign. If Poland was to be elevated, then John of Burgundy and Eric of Scandinavia needed their own imperial titles as well, the former to keep pace with Italy and Poland and the latter to maintain his independence from all three. The Norse were bound together by mutual fear and antipathy towards the Luxemburgs and a desire to entertain their traditional pastime of sailing the Baltic and North Seas for plunder, commerce, and conquest. The Norse, moreover, could boast of never being part of either the Roman or Frankish Empires (that Denmark had occasionally given nominal tribute to the Ottonians was of no consequence) and on these grounds insisted that they should bear equal dignity with their more illustrious southern neighbors. As for the new Burgundian Emperor John, he desired a title vis a vis Britain to justify his invasion and conquest of Scotland and reinforce his tenuous authority over Ireland. The British themselves were thoroughly unamused by Burgundian pretensions, and the English Parliament only accepted the title after John reaffirmed his oath to uphold the Magna Carta and Parliamentary privilege- the sovereign might style himself as he pleased, but his English subjects expected him to govern as an English constitutional monarch, not as a Roman despot.

    There was the final loose end of Scotland. Although Richard Plantagenet had given tribute, John thought of rather firmer governance than his chivalrous father, and used a pretext of a conditional submission to his new imperial rank to label King Richard deposed and in rebellion; his agents emboldened the Dunbars of Scotland to revolt in the name of their “Emperor” with the promise that the Dunbars would rule Scotland.

    After King Richard of Scotland was defeated and executed alongside his sixteen-year-old son and heir in a gruesomely tragic double beheading that ended the male line of the Plantagenets (as an act of mercy, John of Burgundy had the father executed before the son and blindfolded the latter; few today remember the four-year-old Prince Henry, who was quietly poisoned several months after the executions) John demonstrated discretion by imitating the Visconti and Luxemburg practice of appointing the heir-apparent to a restive subsidiary crown- Count Palatine John of the Rhine became King Malcolm of Scotland; like his father had done in England, “Malcolm the German” gave an oath to the Scottish parliament (which although not created by the English Plantagenets, had been greatly empowered and expanded by them) obliging him to uphold their rights and privileges and pledging to retain Scotland as a separate appanage of his future heir when he eventually inherited Burgundy and England from his father. Dunbar’s claim was breezily set aside by an act of the Scottish Parliament in the same sitting; thus did the “Viper of the Rhine” dispense with his enemies and advance his own cause when gold and diplomacy did not suffice. For as Gian Galeazzo taught first Italy and then all of Europe, a prince who wishes to do great things must set aside his promises when the need arises; doing thus, he will find ample excuses to do so.

    As for France, the French gained an imperial title as a concession for accepting the elevation of Burgundy and Duke Thomas of Aquitaine’s legal submission to Empress Carlotta. Louis XI had come of age in a lengthy yet disquieting peace; France, paralyzed by a string of mad or underage monarchs, had watched from the sidelines as the political contours of Europe shifted decisively around them. England was no longer a threat to French sovereignty, but Flanders and the southern provinces were now definitively drifting away from Paris’s control. Flanders, Burgundy, and Picardy openly acknowledged John of Valois-Burgundy as both King (of Burgundy/Lorraine) and Emperor (of Britain), repudiating even in theory any vestigial loyalty to France; Provence, Lyons, and the Dauphinate likewise were entirely outside the legal and political boundaries of Louis’ kingdom. On the other hand, Brittany- a source of contention with England at times- was now conceded by Burgundian Britain as part of France, and while Thomas of Gascony accepted Carlotta as his Empress, he was made to perform homage to [French king] as his royal liege as well, a double vassalage which was not uncommon- but which was always a source of tension, not least since the subsequent League of the Public Weal championed by John succeeded in crippling royal power over these and other provinces.

    These nakedly self-serving elevations were legally justified by appeals to the example of Frankish and Roman partitions. To be sure, those earlier partitions were entirely dynastic, but it was well founded in German jurisprudence that the German crown was trans-dynastic and elective; thus, the argument went, if the Electors could elevate an Emperor, they could also create a new non-dynastic partition of the Universal (Roman) Empire between co-sovereigns.

    Left unaddressed was the ambiguous legal status of Iberia vis a vis the rest of Imperial Europe. The old title of Imperator Totus Hispaniae was inherently problematic and ultimately unpalatable to the interested parties. Carlotta wished to claim it for herself- or, failing that, at least bestow it on her ally the King of Portugal; but the King of Castile would never accept Portuguese pretensions to hegemony and King Henry knew better than to try his luck. Nor was the counter-claim of Castille to Spanish supremacy accepted by any of the other powers in Iberia or even Europe generally- every new imperial elevation inherently diminished the prestige and potential scope of the others’ titles and the core three of Italy, Poland, and Burgundy only grudgingly extended the principle beyond their privileged inner circle; nor could Carlotta extend her influence so far as to demand even the nominal submission of either Castille or Portugal, which was as poorly received in Portugal as Castillian pretensions to the title. In the absence of a universally acceptable (or at least overwhelmingly predominant) imperial sovereign, therefore, the old title of Imperator Totus Hispaniae- which had never been particularly legitimate outside of Iberia- was denigrated and denied. Carlotta’s imperial title was geographically limited to Italy, Southern France, “and whichever territories she should justly claim which are not claimed by another sovereign emperor” such as Valencia or her holdings in North Africa. The Kings of Castille and Portugal then performed a delicate ceremonial dance wherein they collectively knelt before the assembled Emperors (and Empress) and were greeted as “brothers” by them, conditional on their continued submission to the legacy of Rome and the ostensibly temporary legal absence of an Emperor in Spain, who would have otherwise been expected to rule among them; thus, in principle, the Emperors were accepting Imperial sovereignty as co-equal to royal sovereignty, even if they protested strenuously that they were doing no such thing, but merely bestowing viceroyal powers on territorial magnates in Iberia as a temporary expedient.

    The final question of Iberia, and other questions raised by the opportunistic arrangement forged by Emperor John, would be tested very soon. On May 6, 1462, Duke William of Bavaria died without male heirs, transforming the greatest independent German principality into a bitterly contested battleground between the three great powers of Europe.


    ANs-

    []One of the most fascinating aspects of monarchy is the personal drama writ large on the world stage; in much the same way that Greek mythology is so viscerally compelling precisely because the Gods and Goddesses are so viscerally human, their struggles writ across the heavens... sometimes, I have a tendency to get too caught up in the dry geostrategic calculations, the “big picture” of trends and forces. This is in part a reflection of my own personal and political beliefs vis a vis my interpretation of history; and yet, as Marx said: “men make their own history” even if they do so in the confines of what preceding generations have bequeathed to them.

    The thing I find most fascinating about the Visconti, and about Italy generally, is precisely that dialectic between old and new, the weary shrugging-of-the-shoulders and gesturing towards “what can you do, it is how the world is, how men are.” A live-and-let-live attitude that, at times, erupts like a volcano. It makes for a very compelling narrative, albeit one that is not usually much fun to live through (this is the country that invented Fascism OTL, after all). I feel that I do my best writing when I remember to flavor my “trends and forces” narrative with the personal perspectives of the actors and agents involved, and it’s something that I specifically am leaning into with this update- certain things bouncing around in the back of my mind concatenated and gained human force and emotion, a portrait painted with words and allusions, and I felt that it was necessary and welcome, even if part of me wishes I had come to the realization sooner.

    For all those reading, I thank you. I wish there were more of you and that you would be more vocal in commenting or providing feedback, but I appreciate even a single set of eyes on my work, such as it is. Anyway, on with the show.

    []To reiterate what I’ve done here-

    a brief summary of the alleged “Visconti/Milan” Wank, according to a Venetian:

    I’ve wiped the Ottomans, Habsburgs, and Papal State off the map, critically weakened Spain and France, and ensure that a big and powerful Italy is blocking both of them off from Venetian territory

    I’ve made Hungary a junior-partner in a sprawling Luxemburg Empire thoroughly preoccupied with its own dynastic instability and continuing problems on its northern and eastern frontiers

    I’ve spanked Genoa and handed them off to a Neapolitan-led Italy to go haring off towards Spain, North Africa, and the Atlantic (eventually)

    I’ve made the independence and neutrality of Venice a point of canon law of European high diplomacy, the integrity of which is not only accepted by every power in Europe but tied to their fundamental legitimacy as imperial powers themselves

    I’ve given Venice not one but two ways to integrate European or other sufficiently core/central provinces in a way that preserves the city’s independence while also taking the wind out of the sails of Dalmatian or Croatian (etc.) independence movements

    As for any ambitious men in those provinces, instead of the uncertain and dangerous path of insurrection, I’ve give said ambitious locals a clear exit of serving Venice as colonial auxiliaries/conquistador adventurers with a strong incentive to conquer a foreign principality and gain a title to govern that area on behalf of Venice a la the Latifundia

    I’ve turned up the heat on Mamluk and Turco-Iranian infighting and thrown in some Crusader State Shenanigans as well, further fragmenting Southeast Asia

    I’ve sent the Venetians careening wildly into the Indian Ocean about a half-century before Portugal has even rounded the Horn of Africa, chasing the route of Zheng He all the way back to China

    So yeah- they’re probably gonna get big.
     
    In the Shadows Lurk Lions
  • In the Shadows Lurk Lions​

    “Wolves, unlike men, are cunning enough to disparage war, and wise enough to feast after the battlefield is vacated by the living.”

    In the name of maintaining peace, selflessly disclaiming all territorial ambitions, Italy’s great Empress marshalled her banners for a brutal and bloody war, a war which would in time totally consume one continent and irrevocably scar another. As with most such follies, there were a multitude of causes ostensibly served by the bloodletting; as always, the root cause- beyond the perpetual folly of men (and in this rare instance, a woman held to be the wisest of her peers; a one-eyed man must seem a sage in the land of the blind) was the naked fact that imperial consolidation naturally required establishing imperial boundaries. Rome had its limes, the literal lines of Civilization, of Empire- beyond those borders lurked barbarian tribes and other such quasi-mythic unpleasantries. The consolidation of Italy, Poland, and Burgundy into the nuclei of powerful, continent-bestriding states necessarily overshadowed much of Europe, and in those shadows skulked the wolves and the lambs alike. Germany and France- the two traditional continental hegemons since at least the days of Charlemagne- were now fully eclipsed by their more fortunate neighbors- and being eclipsed, thus passed into darkness, and thence were invariably seized and devoured, as always befalls those wounded beasts which trail the herd.

    Bavaria was the first major haunch of meat to be torn from the heart of Charlemagne’s folly, but it was not the first injury dealt to Imperial Germany. Both Italy and Burgundy had competed viciously for the affections of the Swabian principalities, the heart of the old Hohenstaufen dynasty, the dynasty which had flown too close to the Sun and been burnt at the behest of the Roman Papacy. Now their rivalry would extend east into the homeland of the Welf and Wittelsbach dynasties, and what was perhaps a friendly competition between allied powers turned rather more sinister as the stakes grew greater.

    The principal fault line which rent the old “Middle Frankish” Italo-Burgundian alliance in twain was the critical question: who would be granted the honor of claiming Bavaria for themselves? Matteo’s Wittelsbach widow survived the Warring Vipers period and remained an honored guest in Carlotta’s Imperial Court at Naples, and in 1455 she agreed to pawn her dynastic claim to the Empress, a time-honored tradition of dispossessed claimants in need of ready cash to fund their lavish lifestyles. This slender reed was buttressed by the rather more substantial hereditary claims of the Younger Ivrean Dynasty- the ambitious young lords of Aosta, Geneva, and Saluzzo, who each could readily lay claim Bavaria thanks to their mother, the late Margrave Amadeus’s second wife Julie, sister of the late Duke William of Munich.

    Whether Carlotta truly intended to annex or subjugate Bavaria as she had partially done to Aragon remains a matter of some historical controversy. The generally (though by no means universally) accepted belief is that the Empress ultimately desired to pawn Bavaria to the Burgundian Emperor in return for Comital and Ducal Burgundy, thus buttressing her northwestern frontier and securing the last piece of the defunct Imperial Arelate not in Italian hands. Carlotta’s greatest fear was that the Luxemburgs would claim all or part of Bavaria in the resulting gluttonous bout of interdynastic imperialism- barely a generation prior, after all, the Luxemburgs had claimed and annexed the better part of the defunct Habsburg territories, wresting Austria and Carinthia from the Tuscan Visconti through force of arms; with the exception of Carniola and Tirol (Venetian possessions) and the Further Austrian territories in Swabia, which were in Italian hands after the Breisgau was ceded by Burgundy as part of the negotiations securing King John’s Imperial Election, all of Austria was now Luxemburg property. If the Hungarians secured Bavaria, then they would be in command of the northern and eastern approaches to the Veneto; Venetian commercial and diplomatic independence, a cornerstone of Carlotta’s grand strategy vis a vis her eastern frontier, would be permanently jeopardized. Worse, possession of Bavaria would open the door for the Hungarians to meddle in Swabia, a region of vital geostrategic significance to both Burgundy and Italy. It was bad enough in the Empress’s eyes that she had to accommodate the haughty Burgundians; for the Luxemburgs to involve themselves as well would be far worse, since the greatest danger of all was that the incorporation of Bavaria would place the Luxemburgs in the position to make the German crown a hereditary possession of their dynasty. After all, the Bohemian crown was de facto hereditary even as it remained nominally elective, and the Luxemburgs had long positioned themselves as the defenders of traditional German rights and interests against the insurgent upstart Burgundians and Italians. The young Sigismund, fourteen and barely into his majority at the start of the crisis, was bound by marriage ties to the Elector Arnulf of Saxony and the Hohenzollern count of Franconia- if he gained Bavaria, then essentially all eastern Germany would be a Luxemburg dominion or dynastic relation, and the rest of Germany would surely fall in line as readily as a Roman legionary before the legate’s lash.

    The Empress’s strategic machinations, such as they were, invariably ran aground upon Emperor John’s intransigence. The Holy Roman Emperor claimed, not without reason, that as the anointed King of Germany he had first dibs on Bavaria and the right to partition it on his own initiative. Moreover, John balked at the idea of pawning off his ancestral patrimony, a vital precondition for Carlotta’s renunciation of any Italian claims and interests in Bavaria. Burgundy proper was increasingly distant from the Atlantic nucleus of the Burgundian Empire, but the territory was still a rich agricultural province and strategically vital to the long-term stability of Electoral Burgundy’s western frontier: Burgundy, along with Picardy, gave the Burgundians a highly dominant position vis a vis the French monarchy; unlike more distant provinces such as the Dauphinate or Flanders, the French never reconciled themselves to the legal loss of these two provinces and would spend much of the 15th Century seeking to reclaim them. Indeed, King Louis XI had already given support to an urban rebellion in Dijon, the rebels claiming to act in the name of “their sovereign Emperor, the King of France.” John, in any event, crushed the city and slighted its gates, and retaliated against France by backing the League of the Public Weal to cripple Louis’s royal power; the entire affair nevertheless gave John notice that France still harbored ambitions against Burgundy proper and probably Picardy, Lorraine, and Artois as well. He responded by elevating his title- formally, he was known as “King of Flanders”; informally, all referred to him as the King of Electoral or Upper Burgundy, occasionally as the King of Lorraine; Emperor John began listing all of these titles together, caring not a whit that he was tacitly claiming dominion over the Rhodano territories belonging to Italy further south.

    Calmer minds may have yet avoided war, but there was little calm to be found in these desperate decades. Like sharks baited by the blood and bodies left adrift after a major battle, the great powers dashed themselves heedlessly towards the charnel pit in response to the sanguinary ambitions of smaller, meaner creatures than themselves. Emperor John, acting in his capacity as King of Lorraine and Holy Roman Emperor, unilaterally promised Bavaria to Count William of Holland (who was John’s vassal twice over); John may or may not have intended this rash enfeoffment to trigger a conflict- in the Burgundian telling, John intended to present William to the other powers as a compromise candidate, and was allegedly prepared to offer “a fair accounting” to his peers; realistically John was probably playing with fire and he certainly deserved no sympathy for getting burned. While on paper he may have had the legal authority to unilaterally award a massive slice of Germany to his ally, the ichor of German politics was always the gap between de jure and de facto imperial authority, and neither Italy nor Hungary would meekly accept William’s appointment until and unless they had won their own pound of flesh in the bargain.

    John’s recklessness- presuming that he was indeed trying to denigrate Hungarian and Italian interests, even at the risk of a general war- has been interpreted in one of two ways (leaving aside the dubious interpretation that the Emperor was naïve enough to think that William could be kept firmly on his leash like a loyal hunting hound): either the Emperor intended to seize as much territory as possible to improve his dubious bargaining position (possession being nine-tenths of the law) or he simply discounted the strength of Italy and Hungary and presumed that they could be cowed into submission by a show of force. In the former case (favored by pro-Burgundian sources) there was perhaps a glimmer of ruthless realism underlying the Emperor’s high-handed diplomacy; in the latter case (favored by, inter alia, Italian and Hungarian chroniclers) John was attempting to slight his imperial peers and implicitly force them into temporary subservience to his autocratic dictates. In either scenario, John’s cackhanded gambit illuminated his general disregard for both Italian and Hungarian power- a shortsighted belief admittedly somewhat understandable under the circumstances, given that both powers had spent much of the past two decades crippled by dynastic infighting and internal rebellion. Both Burgundy and Europe would pay a steep price for the Emperor’s hubris.

    William’s occupation of Bavaria was met with predictably fierce indignation and a resolutely belligerent response- Italy and Hungary had already secretly pledged a tactical alliance in which it was agreed that, in the event that Italo-Burgundian negotiations broke down, the Ivreans would gain Bavaria, in return for “substantive concessions” elsewhere; in retrospect, this is generally interpreted (in addition to probable support for an electoral bid by the Luxemburgs for the Holy Roman Empire) as a vague insinuation of Italian support for a reconquest of Venetian-held Croatia, Serbia, or Carinthia- perhaps with Carlotta making good on her claims to either or both of Greece or the Venetian mainland in the process- but it may also have referred to Constantinople (then occupied by Kastrioti, who was until his death in 1461 prosecuting a rearguard action against the Venetian conquest of Greece and Albania) or support for a new Luxemburg dynastic appendage carved out of northwestern Germany- Carlotta was far more accommodating of Hungarian expansion in and around the Baltic than in her own backyard. Predictably, both powers set on war rather than accept the Wittelsbach fait accompli and began marshalling their supporters.

    Although William’s claims were well-received and his advance largely unopposed, an outbreak of plague in Munich decimated William’s army and nearly killed the Count himself. In the interim, the Italians succeeded in driving the Wittelsbachs from southern Bavaria, but the refusal of Venice to allow transit through their territory- for the wary Venetians suspected, perhaps correctly, that Carlotta’s soldiers would perhaps do more than simply pass through to Germany, since after all the Italians held the Swiss Alps and could plausibly pass through to Swabia without transiting through the Terrafirma- had unanticipated consequences when a harsher-than-usual spring kept closed the St Gotthard Pass, cutting off the Ivrean army from supplies and reinforcements from Italy. Pre-modern armies of course tended to live off the land, but this “foraging” in practice was little different from rank banditry, and as the Bavarian conflict stalemated the Ivreans’ increasingly harsh depredations denuded Bavaria of provisions and “incensed” the local population firmly against the Italians; this, and a retaliatory Burgundian tour-de-force through Swabia, peeled away the Italians’ local allies, with critical garrisons such as Augsburg and Ulm being overwhelmed and forced to surrender, and a Swiss revolt breaking out in the Alps thanks to John’s incendiary diplomatic missives; in the meantime, William’s forces only grew in strength owing to the financial and political support of the Emperor, which enabled William to rally the local German princes such as the Hohenzollerns to his cause. William’s greatest triumph, however, would come in Austria, for William’s ambitions extended further beyond that of Bavaria proper: in response to haughty threats from distant Poland William launched a daring invasion of upper Austria.

    William had timed his invasion well: the Hungarians were still not fully prepared for war- they had not anticipated the conflict to degenerate so quickly. The Magyar nobility did eventually agree to finance an army to defend Austria, but political delays enabled William to seize Graz before the Magyars interceded. On March 14, 1459, William confronted the Hungarians in the shadow of the Carinthian Alps and destroyed them in open battle, affirming his newfound “rights” to upper Austria.

    William’s military successes persuaded Carlotta to cut her losses vis a vis Germany, not least since a Wittelsbach Bavaria arguably suited her purposes better than an Ivrean Bavaria; she agreed to sign a separate peace with William, relinquishing Italian claims to Bavaria in return for a cash payment. William further agreed to abandon his military alliance with Burgundy, withdrawing his soldiers from Swabia and allowing the Italians to recapture their lost outposts from the Burgundians. The war now shifted seamlessly from a Bavarian succession crisis to a broader anti-Burgundian coalition, as the scope of Emperor John’s ambitions became apparent with his invasion of France in the sweltering summer of 1459, an invasion prompted in part by the announcement of King Sigismund of Hungary’s engagement to Louis of France’s sister Marianne that March and the implied beginnings of a rapproachment between France and Hungary.

    King Sigismund’s new marriage signaled a broader shift in European high diplomacy. For the past two generations, the Luxemburgs had assiduously courted the house of Burgundy, building on the extensive commercial ties between the Baltic and the Low Countries to align the two kingdoms against the waxing power of the Norse and the waning power of England and the Hanseatic League. The two states certainly shared a common interest in opposing Scandinavian expansion into Northern Germany, but in practice they tended to view the matter differently: the Burgundians principally sought to assert their own hegemony in Western Germany to prevent a local rival from emerging to contest their visegrip over the English Channel, but their chief security concern was to the west, not to the east. The Luxemburgs, by contrast, never failed to view the Kalmar Union’s expansion as a grave and potentially existential threat to their control over the Baltic littoral. The union between Burgundy and England only heightened these divisions- while the Luxemburgs had granted preferential treatment to the Dutch merchants, they refused to extend the same courtesy to the English, a disparity which caused no small amount of consternation in London. Most critically, the Burgundians- notwithstanding their tactical and commercial arrangements with Poland- refused to break entirely with Italy before the outbreak of general hostilities: the Italo-Burgundian axis inaugurated by Azzone Visconti eight decades ago had proven a durable feature of European geopolitics even in the aftermath of the Visconti Dynasty’s self-immolation; this partnership between Pavia and Brugge posed a serious strategic dilemma for both the Luxemburgs and the French, and it had taken considerable effort on John’s part to disrupt it. Indeed, the rather abrupt rivalry between Italy and Burgundy- between the two most urbanized kingdoms in Europe- presaged their colonial competition in the following century.

    Louis’ strategic marriage alliance came ironically at the nadir of Valois France’s power and prestige. Emperor John occupied Champagne in retaliation for King Louis’ rash attempt against Burgundian Picardy and he won a smashing success at Reims, utterly routing a French royal army and capturing the King’s uncle, Duke Charles of Normandy. In the wake of his victory, John- now made aware of the prospective marriage alliance, reacted rashly yet decisively to eliminate the danger. On April 15, 1459, he summoned his banners to Reims, where he informed his key vassals- the three principal being the Duke of Lancaster, the Duke of Lorraine, and the Duke of Brabant- of his intention to claim the French throne, thereby forging his own western “Triune Monarchy” to resist the Luxemburgs’ attempts at undermining Burgundian power in Atlantic Europe; this was no small fear, as after all a Luxemburg Holy Roman Emperor had died fighting for France at the Battle of Crecy a century prior.

    Initial reactions to John’s pretensions were somewhat lukewarm. As a matter of law, John’s claims were uncritically accepted by his subjects- the English aristocracy, after all, were still not entirely reconciled to their Plantagenet Kings “losing” his rights in France and were hardly going to refuse a chance to plunder and despoil the lands of their ancestral enemy, especially when the Emperor promised to personally underwrite the costs of the expedition and the prosecution of the war seemed largely a formality. Yet neither John nor his vassals were fully prepared for the scale of the backlash they would face both within and outside of France: King Louis XI scorned his advisors, who pleaded with him to flee Paris, pleading that the city could not be trusted to hold fast, not against Burgundian artillery and certainly not given the mercurial and equanimous attitudes of the Parisians, who had once been partial to Burgundy in the past but were now rather less inclined in the present. Indeed, John intended to steal inside the city via chicanery, attempting to bribe the Butchers Guild- long a radical and broadly pro-Burgundian segment of the city- to open the gates on his behalf. Unfortunately for John and ultimately for Paris, the uprising was detected and some of the ringleaders arrested and executed; the panicked survivors then began an abortive uprising too early for John to take advantage of it. By the time John’s army had arrived, Louis’ soldiers had largely restored peace- but they had, critically, lost the Bastille, captured by Louis’ German mercenaries from Burgundian holdouts; the mercenaries then defected to John due to lack of pay and “ostentatious” bribes. John was nevertheless unable to force entry into the city proper: he was confronted not merely by the royal army but also the citizens of Paris, which- thanks to Louis’ own personal presence and antipathy for the “German” John and his mercenaries- now aligned themselves firmly and resolutely on behalf of their King.

    Porte.Saint.Denis.Paris.png
    The Gate at Porte St. Denis along the Walls of the Right (Northern) bank

    Paris may have shrunk from her late-medieval peak of two-hundred-thousand souls, but her walls remained in the fullness of their glory- an imposing outer circuit constructed along the east bank at the orders of King Charles V. These very walls had rebuffed King Edward II’s victorious army in the 14th century- no medieval army could totally encircle the city, and indeed John’s army did not attempt to do so either. Instead, the Emperor resolved to simply bludgeon the city into submission via massed artillery fire. Burgundian cannons were rightfully considered the best in Northern Europe- the best in Europe, certainly, apart from the Venetians- and medieval walls were too thin, too tall, and too fragile to withstand sustained bombardment from gunpowder artillery. Burgundy focused his efforts on a multi-pronged attack, attempting to breach the walls near the Bastille to relieve his beleaguered allies within, as well as simultaneously forcing the northern gates to overwhelm and rout the outnumbered defenders.
    MonsMeg.JPG

    Mons Meg, one of four great siege guns to be deployed against Paris​

    The Burgundian siege began with an attempt to mine under the walls, but the Parisians noticed this and dug counter-mines- there are off-hand accounts to knights “grappling in the dark confines of the earth, the smell of powder and blood and the din of the dying their only guide forward”- but although the Burgundians did eventually succeed in detonating a mine in the north wall, the blast was much weaker than anticipated (water contamination, incompetence, and treachery have all been alleged) and a subsequent attempt against the walls was repelled with heavy losses on both sides. As the walls crumbled before the Imperial artillery, they ironically became even greater obstacles, the rubble both blocking passage and absorbing artillery fire better than the intact sections. Yet in the face of the Burgundian artillery and numbers, Paris could not hope to survive; her only hope was for relief, and no relief would come. Italian armies would not appear in France until the following year owing to political difficulties, and the King’s own loyalists were confronted with a Gascon invasion of Poitou and Anglo-Scottish piracy along the Norman coast, diverting what remained of the French aristocracy away from the capital as every baron and town retreated to defend their own lands. Paris would fight, and ultimately fall, on her own, abandoned by the Kingdom she nominally ruled.

    John repeatedly attempted to negotiate a peaceful surrender; his losses were mounting, and time was not on his side. Many of his advisors pleaded with the Emperor to strike a deal and retreat, but King Louis- defiant to the end- refused all pleas, insisting that he would fight to the end and shed his own royal blood before he allowed his treacherous cousin into the city. Louis’ spine was stiffened by the surrender, on May 30, of the Burgundian holdouts in the Bastille, which eliminated the main danger to that section of the city’s defenses.

    As May turned to June, the Burgundians- now at the end of their rope- determined on one final attempt against the walls. A new mine was dug which- unlike the previous attempts- remained undetected, and on June 5 it detonated, collapsing a section of walls of the Bastille. Fortuitously for Burgundy, the French had moved several of their artillery pieces into the Bastille the previous day, and the explosion resulted in a sympathetic powder detonation, leveling a good portion of the fortress’s outer defenses. King Louis XI and his royal guards committed personally to repelling the subsequent assault, but the King was grievously wounded in the melee, and his withdrawal precipitated a collapse of the defenders’ lines, giving the Burgundians a free path into Paris. King Louis XI was lost in the chaos, and never seen again; John’s men searched the city for three days but found no sign of the fallen French king. Some light to Louis’ fate was eventually discovered during renovations of Notre Dame in the 17th Century, when a small crypt containing a corpse in royal livery was discovered hidden behind a section of walls; this was widely accepted as King Louis’ remains and he was reburied with honors by the royal family. It is believed that Louis- mortally wounded or dead- retreated to the Ile de la Cite, and possibly requested (either of his followers or the clergy then present in Notre Dame) to be buried there, perhaps in secret; alternately, the King’s followers (in possession of their Sovereign’s mortal remains) may or may not have wished to hide Louis’ death in order to maintain royalist morale; they may have felt that the Duke of Burgundy would have forbidden a royal funeral or desecrated the body; or they may simply have perished in the brutal Sack which followed and taken their knowledge to the grave.

    Cities taken by storm were almost invariably subject to atrocities, but even by the jaded standards of the 15th Century the Sack of Paris drew widespread comment and condemnation, because it was perpetrated by the crowned and anointed Holy Roman Emperor- the man ostensibly claiming additionally to be King of France- against his putative subjects, literal cousins, and fellow Christians. John’s partisans pleaded that the Parisians had proven themselves time and again to be rebellious and treacherous; this was rich coming from the man whose grandfather had literally orchestrated the murder of his own cousin the Duke of Orleans in the city streets, and the fact that the Burgundians’ own subjects in the Low Countries had famously revolted against and slaughtered much of the French nobility a century prior hardly burnished John’s reputation either.

    Beyond the immediate death toll, the principal long-term ramification of Paris’ fall was the permanent abandonment of Paris for Tours as the new capital of the French monarchy. Paris had long been distrusted and denigrated by the Valois, and King Henry’s decision to move what was left of the French Court to Tours- an ostensibly temporary and entirely necessary military expedient- reflected a more permanent shift in France’s territorial composition: the inexorable reduction of the eastern provinces- the loss of Champagne, Picardy, and Normandy- forced the French Kings to abandon the Seine entirely and focus on the development of the Loire as their last leg of strength.

    The slighting of Paris had an immediate and drastic demographic impact; comparisons to cities which suffered similar depredations in the period are instructive. Florence had, by 1450 (roughly two decades after Matteo’s Greens stormed its bastions and slaughtered the defenders of the revived Republic) largely recovered to its pre-civil war wealth and prestige, although its relative decline into the second city of Tuscany was a foregone conclusion (Siena, spared a sack and continually favored by both the Ivreans and the Visconti as their regional capital, had by the late 15th Century surpassed Florence in both wealth and population). Constantinople was thrice despoiled by foreign conquerors in the long and grueling 15th century- first by the Lombards under Ladislao, then by the Albanians under Kastrioti, and finally by the Venetians- and rebuilt and repopulated so many times that by the end of the century it was complained that the city had “been so overrun by foreigners and their foreign palaces” that it bore little resemblance to the Byzantine capital of the latter Paleologi emperors. And yet, when French Cardinal Richelieu passed through the city as part of a general pilgrimage through the Holy sites of Christendom, he remarked bitterly that Constantinople- a Venetian colony- was, at eighty thousand souls, twice the size of his native Paris; barely a century prior, when Emperor John of Byzantium had visited the French capital, he had undoubtedly felt the same bitter ruminations. Paris, for better or worse, had been the capital of the French monarchy, and for better or worse as the French monarchy’s power waned so too did Paris find herself eclipsed. But all of this lay in the future, and in the dark days of 1459 the French would have barely believed even that future possible, for they seemed to be living in the end of days.

    In the wake of Burgundy’s bloody victory, the nineteen-year-old King Henry, former Count of Alencon, cousin of the martyred King Louis, son of the captive Duke Charles, and last hope for the Valois princes, turned his back on the smoldering shell of his fallen capital and fled west to Angers, where he attempted to rally his remaining loyalists against the invaders. Henry’s efforts were initially less than successful- the Duke of Gascony only refrained from declaring outright for Burgundy due to the sweltering admonitions emanating from Naples, the point stabbed home by a formal Italian declaration of war contra their erstwhile Burgundian allies and extensive lines of credit opened to King Henry by the Genoese; nevertheless, Duke Richard took the opportunity to complete his conquest of Poitou, ostensibly in the name of “maintaining the King’s royal government” without specifying which king, precisely, he was nominally acting in the name of- Henry certainly had few friends indeed below the Loire and could expect nothing good from that direction. The Duke of Brittany was more receptive to his nominal sovereign’s desperate entreaties, mainly due to Emperor John’s cackhanded diplomacy.

    Brittany had traditionally leaned towards England and by extension Burgundy as the guarantors of their provincial autonomy vis a vis Paris; like Flanders, Brittany depended utterly on the sea and was utterly naked before the sea as well, and her natural interests therefore leaned strongly towards peace and particularly against war with the man who simultaneously ruled England, Flanders, and Germany and could thus strangle her foreign trade with barely more than an angry letter. In principle John should have easily won over Brittany by promising to respect the very same privileges that his father’s soldiers had literally fought to enforce on an intransigent French monarchy, but John- flush with victory- wanted to “bring Brittany into the fold” and ensure free access to Breton ports for his subjects and their commerce. Specifically, he wanted Brittany to crack down on piracy ranging out of St Malo, which was a major menace to both English and Dutch merchants operating the route down the Atlantic to Spain and Gascony, and he further demanded a guarantee of uninhibited passage of Anglo-Burgundian goods and soldiers up and down the Loire; if the Duke was incapable of meeting these demands then Emperor John proposed trading Brittany for Ducal Burgundy- this was a fool’s bargain at best, and it is not surprising that the Bretons rejected it out of hand. But it was John’s “request” that the Duke engage his daughter and heiress Anne to Prince Anthony, John’s youngest son, which forced Brittany into the French camp. John promised that the couple would rule Brittany as an independent fiefdom, but it was clear from context that John’s ultimate ambition was to reduce Brittany fully to vassalage and drag it inexorably into his clutches, not unlike what his father had done to England- Brittany would, at best, be (like Brabant and Scotland) a cadet apanage of the Burgundian monarchy, at worst just another province in John’s sprawling empire- and if there was one thing that the fractious Bretons agreed upon, it was that their country could not survive as a mere province, not if its commerce was to thrive.

    King Henry, in his desperation, was by contrast far more accommodating and magnanimous- and, perhaps more importantly, fully over the barrel and literally within Breton power as an “honored guest” at Nantes. Henry’s offer was blunt and candid- he was prepared to marry the future Duchess Anne and, in his capacity as suzerain Emperor, elevate Brittany to a coequal kingdom with France, granting to Brittany the dignity she so desperately desired and guaranteeing that the Valois would not rule Brittany as a mere apanage, as they had done with other provinces that fell into the royal demesne. He was also prepared to make substantial territorial concessions in return for Brittany’s entry into the war against Burgundy- all of Anjou, the western half of Normandy, and the Atlantic port of La Rochelle and its hinterland were promised to his young bride, albeit as fiefs of the French crown in personal union with Brittany rather than a de jure cession of French territory; to sweeten the deal, Henry not only affirmed that these new dynastic acquisitions would be governed under the “traditional” privileges but would be fully exempt from all royal taxes, tariffs, and tithes during the Duchess’s lifetime. This allotment would give Brittany a predominant position in the Bay of Biscay and the Loire Valley, and together with promises of an Italian invasion of Burgundy were sufficient to entice Brittany to declare for the Valois.

    Breton support came just in time for Henry, as England and Scotland both finally roused themselves to war on behalf of their nominal sovereign. Although the English parliament had granted an initial subsidy to John, they had refused to extend it, despite the indignation of both John and his Northumbrian banners, chief among them the Duke of Lancaster. Since the integration of Scotland into the Burgundian regime, marcher lords on both sides of the border found it impossible to engage in their traditional pastime of raiding and pillaging across the Anglo-Scottish frontier. Many therefore turned to military service abroad- the latter 15th century saw a renaissance in the “free companies” of Anglo-Gascon and Scottish mercenaries plying their trade on the continent. Many in England saw the Franco-Burgundian war as a chance to repeat the exploits of John of Gaunt and burn their way through the wealthy French countryside, and their Scottish counterparts quickly came around to the notion as well. The great Dunbar family of Scotland had married into the Lancasters shortly after Scotland’s conquest by England, and the Dunbars now joined their former enemies in pressing for war on the continent- after all, the Auld Alliance had been with the King of France, and John was now (allegedly) King of France ruling from (the despoiled husk of) Paris. For the first time in history, English and Scottish armies were preparing to march together under the same banner- the Burgundian Fleur-de-lys. A joint Anglo-Scottish army landed in Normandy, seizing first Cotentin and then Caen before moving inland to despoil Anjou. But the British were not the only “foreigners” to involve themselves in the Franco-Burgundian feud, for in 1460 Italy finally roused themselves from their stupor and crossed the Alps in force; the Anglo-Scottish forces found themselves confronted not only by the Bretons but also an army led by a young Ivrean Prince- Duke Victor Emmanuel of Aosta- who had initially determined to carve a principality for himself from the rotting corpse of southern France before being diverted north by the machinations of his sovereign Empress.

    Twenty-two and handsome, brave and brilliant, arrogantly ambitious in the way that only talented men of means can afford to be, Victor Emmanuel had realized that Gascony’s fence-sitting meant that neither side of the brewing civil war was likely to raise serious objections to an Ivrean freebooter army descending upon the Gascons like locusts. The legal gauze bandaged around this nakedly opportunistic landgrab had been concocted in combination with the Lombard ambassador to Venice. Following the abdication of the last King of Jerusalem, his sister had sold away her vestigial claims to Palestine to the Republic; Venetians had no real interest in these claims beyond securing their control over Levant, but as “Queen” Elizabeth was a direct descendant of Henry of Aquitaine she had nominal claims on both Gascony and England, and Victor Emmanuel determined to buy those rights off the bemused Venetians. It was only the intense efforts of Carlotta, who outright arrested her nephew after learning of his scheme, that prevented the invasion from coming to pass; frenetic diplomatic negotiations quickly secured the marriage of Duke Richard’s daughter, the Countess Henrietta, to the young Ivrean prince, mollifying him with the county of Montpelier as a dowry and providing Carlotta with additional leverage to keep Gascony from defecting to the Burgundians. The captive Ivrean- spirited from his (admittedly quite lavish) tower cell to the wedding altar- then received from Empress Carlotta a most prestigious wedding gift: a crown of finely wrought Swiss gold, encrusted with emeralds and rubies and laden with promise- the crown of Ireland.

    Italian involvement in Ireland was somewhat sporadic before the Ivrean conquest, but in the post-Warring Vipers period, the expansion of Genoese trade in the Atlantic saw an increased involvement between Britain and Italy. As the Burgundians naturally favored their own Dutch and English merchants over the foreign Genoese, Genoa turned west to the Emerald Isle, taking a new interest in the rich pastures and copper mines of the southern clans. Genoese interests had been implicated in the Ivrean plot against Gascony, and the Genoese became the first and most significant backers of the Ivrean invasion of Ireland, salivating over the prospective expansion of their commerce into a new and exciting corner of Europe.

    Victor Emmanuel crossed the Alps in late August 1459, preceding the Italian invasion of Burgundy by several months. He distinguished himself well in skirmishes with British cavalry in Anjou and assisted in King Henry’s reconquest of Alencon in September 1459; John’s own army recaptured Alencon the following month, and indeed the “capture” was arguably more of a raid, but it was a welcome reminder to the Normans that their King had not totally abandoned them.

    As winter settled upon a wartorn France, Victor Emmanuel and his army departed from St. Malo and landed near Cork. Somewhat inauspiciously, the Ivreans were scattered by winter storms, and it took the better part of two weeks for the Italians to rally together. That time gave the Lord Regent of Ireland, [lord], time to rally his forces and receive hasty reinforcements from England. Ivrea tarried further to recruit soldiers from the Irish clans, but his nominal claims to kingship won him little respect; his gold, however, did woo some fence-sitters to sign on as mercenaries, bolstering the Italian army to five thousand fighting men. His decision to support the Hiberno-Normans against the Gaelic King of Thormond, led the latter to ally with the pro-English Earl of Kildare and the powerful James, Earl of Desmond, these great southern magnates marching against the Italians.

    Ireland_1450.png


    The Battle of Tipperary is sometimes held out as proving the supremacy of the gun over the bow, but English historians rightfully point out that the English Loyalists were not fielding their famed Longbowmen- such men, like knights, were members of an elite professional warrior caste, and the fighting in France had siphoned off this valuable manpower; Ireland was a benighted backwater under the Burgundians, English rule barely extending to the horizon visible from Dublin’s walls. The “archers” fielded by the Burgundian loyalists were consequently largely of native Irish stock, and no match for their famed Welsh compatriots.

    The Italian army was roughly equal in size but contained hardened contingents of Genoese crossbows as well as arquebusiers- perhaps the first instance of such weapons being utilized in the British Isles; the English, meanwhile, were a conglomerate of garrison soldiers (principally a mix of archers and billmen) supplemented by the firm backbone of the Hiberno-Normans. Victor Emmanuel was no military genius, but he was certainly competent and charismatic, and his army was qualitatively superior and- most critically- had a decisive advantage in missile troops. The Genoese extracted a bitter toll in the initial archery duel, and this provoked a general charge by the Anglo-Irish cavalry, who were promptly set upon and slaughtered by the Ivreans’ disciplined halberd-wielding men-at-arms; many of the Irish levies threw down their arms or fled rather than fight, and the Earl of Desmond was captured. The Ivreans had won a clear victory- the “English” army in Ireland was extinguished, while the Latins had lost barely twenty soldiers in the melee, a definitive demonstration of the power of the emerging continental “pike-and-shot” system when arrayed against a more traditionally “medieval” force.

    In practice the battle was less definitive than it appeared; although Ivrea succeeded in winning over much of the southern clans after the victory- after seizing the wealthy Kingdom of Desmond and disposing of the inconvenient sons of the fallen Desmond clansmen, he was hailed as High King atop the Rock of Cashel, traditional seat of the Kings of Munster, becoming the first man to bear that title since the Scottish invasion of Ireland the previous century. His reign initially did not extend beyond Munster, but unlike the Bruce he had secured from the Papacy a formal revocation of Plantagenet rights to Ireland. It was however the attainder and execution of Thomas Fitzgerald- heir to the captive Earl by the Dublin Parliament which led to the collapse of English rule. In 1366, the English had passed the Statute of Kilkenny, banning intermarriage between English and Irish and restricting the use of the Gaelic language. In practice this law proved impossible to enforce even in the Pale, and additional laws restricting Gaelic dress and custom were passed by the Dublin Parliament. Thomas, like his father, had resisted the enforcement of these laws, and- with his father defeated and the military power of Kildare and Desmond destroyed- the English seized him and had him attainted for treason. His subsequent execution precipitated a general revolt against English rule, and James Fitzgerald agreed to accept a pardon and pledge loyalty to the Ivreans; this, and a naval blockade enforced by the Genoese, enabled Victor Emmanuel to seize much of the Pale, although the beleaguered English garrison in Dublin still resisted the invaders thanks to timely reinforcements from England. Ultimately, the fate of Ireland would be determined in Europe, not in Britain, as Ivrea’s army would be no match for an irate Burgundian Emperor free from his continental commitments.

    Apart from the fighting in Ireland, Italy took minimal part in the fighting in 1459, owing to bitter political bickering over state finances. Empress Carlotta anxiously desired to fund an expansive military intervention in France, and she wanted her vassals to pay for it: she assembled the Lombard Senate in June- two weeks after Paris’ fall- and insisted that the Lombards authorize a further subsidy for the raising of an army. The Lombards balked: they had already subsidized an Italian invasion of Germany, and insisted that these funds, and the Empress’ royal coffers, should be sufficient to underwrite any additional military endeavors; failing this, they demanded oversight of the Empress’ diplomatic commitments, ensuring that she would not entangle the Kingdom’s financial resources in foreign adventures. This incensed Carlotta- in the first place, diplomacy was unequivocally the right of the Sovereign, and like her great-grandfather Gian Galeazzo she always played her cards close to the vest; submitting her negotiations to the Senate would imply that she could not act as a true sovereign, and unacceptably constrain the necessary discretion and flexibility required by international diplomacy. The Empress’s coffers moreover were not limitless- Carlotta spent much of her resources on massive constructions. She was personally financing, among other things, the construction of an aqueduct in the Abruzzo, intended to resolve the water shortages there owing to the rapid expansion of the population, as well as renovations to the Duomo of Milan and St. Peters Basilica and the construction of a new Marian Nunnery in Rome.

    What the Senate truly desired was less an attack on Carlotta’s sovereign authority than the removal of the hated Count Rodrigo of Molise, the Empress’s close confidant and alleged lover, who had ratcheted up royal taxation to expand the Kingdom’s roads and barred the cities from levying their traditional tariffs without his approval. Rodrigo had succeeded in implementing such measures in Sicily, where baronial power was weak and the cities largely quiescent, but Lombardy was a different animal, and none of the haughty northern cities were prepared to relinquish their “traditional” rights to oversee their immediate hinterlands- certainly not to a “Sicilian tyrant.” Carlotta finally agreed to kick Rodrigo upstairs by appointing him as her imperial attaché to France; in his place, she appointed Alfonso de Medici, a Florentine banker, to oversee the project of centralizing the royal administration in Lombardy. This hardly mollified the truculent Lombards, who were barely more willing to tolerate a Tuscan than a Sicilian, but Alfonso was more politically adroit than his predecessor and managed to soothe the Lombards’ ruffled feathers by agreeing to appoint men chosen by the “advice” of the Senate into the administration; Alfonso was able to use the existing rivalries between the cities to split their coalition, encouraging competition for benefices and offices under his domainRegardless, the logjam was finally broken with minimal injury to the Crown’s dignity or authority, which was what Carlotta wanted all along: on September 5, 1459, the Lombard Senate finally pledged new military subsidies sufficient to finance a military campaign the following Spring; campaign was planned for mid-March, early enough to hopefully avoid the worst of the thaw-induced flooding along the Rhone but late enough to permit passage through the Swiss Alps.

    Three armies were fielded by Italy: the largest, the principal “royal” army under the command of the Margrave of Ancona, was tasked with conquering the Burgundian Ducal capital of Dijon and then moving west into France to support the reconquest of the Seine Valley. An Ivrean army under the Duke of Savoy was tasked with taking Besancon, which was to be formally incorporated into the Kingdom of Provence; a smaller army under the Duke of Geneva invaded through the St Bernard Pass to Switzerland and then on to Alsace, tasked with clearing the Burgundians from Swabia and supporting Savoy’s advance into the Rhineland. The Burgundians responded to this incursion in full force, and battle was joined two miles from the Alsatian town of Mulhausen, where the Lombards avenged their defeat at Basel.

    Duke Anthony of Brabant had his own Dutch forces and the support of Duke Rene of Lorraine. The Burgundian forces attempted to confront the smaller, Alsatian army, but were outplayed- baited into a battle by the adroit maneuvering of Duke Amadeus of Savoy. Nevertheless, Anthony did not spurn battle- his forces were now over twenty-thousand- a quarter of these knights- opposing a combined force of slightly larger size. Both the Italian and Burgundian armies had a solid core of professional infantry- the Italians fielded their Swiss subjects, while Burgundy had marshalled a substantial contingent of Flemish militiamen, armed with pikes and their famed Goedendags. Arthur’s troops encountered the Italians firmly entrenched, and decided to utilize their cavalry to engage in a broad flank, attacking the Ivreans from two sides.

    The Burgundian cavalry succeeded in closing and engaging the Latins, but it was the vicious fighting between the Flemish and Swiss which decided the battle. The Flemings generally lacked the Swiss’ heavy armor, and the Swiss additionally were supplemented by heavy infantry with halberds and polearms; these troops succeeded in gradually pressing in the flanks of the Flemish forces. The Burgundian cavalry did partially break through and shattered part of the Latin line on the southern flank, but they were immediately set upon by the fresh Lombards, who overwhelmed and destroyed the Burgundians; the victorious Swiss joined in the fighting, crushing Burgundy’s army in a grueling slog that lasted through to the afternoon. Among the fallen was Duke Anthony, whose mangled corpse was discovered two days after the battle; the Duke of Lorraine was captured, and promptly abandoned the Burgundian cause, placing his duchy at the disposal of the Ivreans.

    The bloodshed in France did not halt the tenuous and tense negotiations at the Council of Bologna, which continued uninterrupted even as several of the participants were actively at war with each other. The principal result of the Council of Bologna was twofold: first, the formal endorsement of vernacular translations of the Bible, and second the formalized divide between “procedural” and “doctrinal” Church practices.

    The use of the vernacular had grown largely in Germany and Bohemia in response to a growing demand among the public for direct access to the Bible, particularly after the invention and proliferation of the Printing Press enabled the public to read scripture for themselves. This unnerved the clergy, who believed that the public could not be trusted with the Holy Book, owing to the necessity of “interpreting” the Bible in a way that coincidentally aligned with the Church’s daily operations. Moreover, with the integration of Greek, Russian, Serbian, and Bulgarian Catholic Uniate Churches, there was a desire to ensure a degree of ideological consistency in the practice of the Mass. These ran afoul of both the Burgundian and Luxemburg desires to placate their religiously and culturally heterodox subjects- Luxemburg Bohemia already had extracted the concession of vernacular use of Czech by the clergy, and the Luxemburgs extended this to the rest of their territories (specifically, embracing the use of German, Polish, and Hungarian; Lithuanian was excluded owing to Polish chauvinism). The Burgundians meanwhile were at least partially influenced by the vestigial legacy of the heretic John Wycliffe as well as the writings of Jan Hus, which permeated west to the Low Countries from Lithuania via the Baltic trade. Burgundy saw the Catholic Church as the key pillar justifying their rule, and especially after the breach of the Anglo-

    Carlotta initially refrained from involving herself, but as the debates grew more vitriolic she grew more concerned. The German states in particular strongly favored vernacular, and Carlotta was unwilling to risk “losing” influence in Germany to either Hungary or Burgundy over a seemingly minor theological point. She interceded in the Papal Conclave of 1460, extracting from the College of Cardinals a pledge that the new Pope would make reconciling these differences his top priority; Pope Pius II, a Sienese native of aristocratic stock, initially pledged to follow this, but he resented Imperial interference and stood firm on the use of vernacular, asserting moreover that the Church Councils had already decided the issue and could not therefore reverse established doctrine; this rather blatant attempt at curtailing Conciliar authority roused the Empress’ ire, as did his intransigent insistence on attempting to force a peace between Italy and Burgundy in order to launch a new Crusade for Africa and his contempt for the Italian alliance with Granada. Somewhat predictably, Pius took ill suddenly, and died of “natural causes” two months after his election. As she had done with another “problematic” prince who she had (probably) poisoned, Carlotta orchestrated a lavish state funeral; and when the Conclave again assembled, she politely reminded the Cardinals of her anxious desire to see the ongoing Church Council come to an equitable solution to the matter of the vernacular. The next Pope- a wealthy French Aristocrat, Guillame d’Estouteville, took the hint, and as Pope Innocent VIII towed the imperial line. Thus originated a sardonic observation by contemporary Italians that one who placed his hand in the viper’s jaw must be said die of natural causes should he be poisoned.

    The other great problem confronting the Council was the growing pains of the Venetian Empire. After the death of George Kastrioti, his many sons tore apart the nascent Byzantine Empire, which gradually succumbed to Venice, culminating in the capture of Constantinople in 1461. This, and a similar fragmentation of Hasanid Iran after Uzun Hassan’s death the following year, meant that by the close of the decade Venice found itself somewhat abruptly in command of nearly all of the former territories of the Eastern Roman Empire, at least on paper. In practice the key to Venice’s success was their fairly hands-off approach which enabled them to seamlessly integrate provincial elites into their client network. The Venetians wanted to ensure total control over the church in their territory in order to prevent Papal or foreign meddling, which could threaten to undermine their authority; Venetian demands were less onerous than those of the Germans and were swiftly accepted.

    The Council did also serve as a forum to attempt peace negotiations between France and Burgundy, but these proved more intractable than the salvation of souls. The Burgundians saw no reason to abandon their claim to the French throne, certainly not without gaining substantial territorial concessions; the French were equally insistent that Burgundy withdraw from their dejure territory and relinquish their claim to the French throne. Nor was Italy inclined to accept the status quo- among other things, the Burgundians refused to cede their claims to Burgundy proper, which was a sine qua non for Carlotta, or to accept Irish independence, which was a major but not essential condition for the Empress. So long as neither side held a decisive advantage in the field, the war would continue, and indeed it would soon expand into Iberia and beyond. On November 2, 1460, King Sigismund of Poland turned sixteen years old, dismissing his mother’s regency and beginning a reign whose glory eclipsed the sun.
     
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