TLIAW: the Madness of King Charles

[Prince di Corsica]

Chapter IV
House Arrest

Don Carlos in his darkest days​

Don Carlos, Prince of Asturias, would not be allowed to leave the grounds of his new residence, the Alcazar of Madrid, for the next ten years, being kept on a close watch by several guards who, while officially tasked with protecting him, were in fact charged with guarding him, preventing him from doing harm to himself or others. Overseeing this guard, under orders of the King himself, was Princess Elisabeth who, unlike her husband, had proven herself worth the trust and affection of Philip.

It was not an easy task, to look after the Prince, mostly because, having fallen, directly from a state of wrath, to one of melancholy as none had ever seen in him, not even in the darkest days of the past, he had decided that life was no longer worth living and would try to end it by his own hand, something that, understandably, could not simply be allowed. This meant, at first, the removal of all blades from his presence that could be used to spill blood; his food would be presented cut up in small pieces with no choking hazard and all and any activities involving blades were strictly forbidden. All rooms were inspected to be removed of blades and, those that simply could not do without them, such as the kitchen, were kept off-grounds to the Prince. The doors to his apartments were kept locked, the windows were nailed shut and the servants who were allowed access into them were few and accounted for. And none of them were women; the only feminine contact the Prince was allowed was that of his wife. The prince had, afterwards, thought of drinking himself to death, or ingesting some mix that would make him perish, which forced his quarters to be deprived of all bottled liquids or in fact, all substances that were not the food he was eating at the moment. Constant vigilance of his actions was also accomplished to prevent further attempts at acting towards his own demise.

With action being restricted to him, Don Carlos they opted for inaction as the way of ending his suffering, by attempting to fast himself to death, refusing all food and drink that was provided to him. He lost weight severely and felt ever weaker, with his mind in particular suffering from the lack of nutrition, until, taken by the wails of his wife, he satiated his hunger and restored his health, not wanting to see her suffer thus. This episode would be repeated a few times a year, but in each of them Don Carlos would back away before being too late, although the doctors did warn that it could cause further problems later on.

​

The Alcazar of Madrid, where Don Carlos would spend many years

These were dark days for Carlos, who was isolated from the rest of the world beyond his wife; his lifelong companions, John of Austria and Alexander Farnese, would be separated from him for the first time. John of Austria would visit the Alcazar once, in early 1569, on his way to Granada; he had been made Captain General of the Spanish forces and tasked with defeating the Morisco rebellion in the city, the Rebellion of Alpujarras, and hoped he could meet and perhaps even rekindle the friendship with the prince. Suffice it to say the Prince wasn’t interested, and in fact he would henceforth get in a wrathful mood whenever the name of his uncle was said in his presence. John of Austria would quell the rebellion and would later lead the armada of the Holy League against the Ottoman Porte at Lepanto, to an astounding success, gaining much fame and glory for himself. Alexander Farnese, married to Princess Maria of Portugal, governed the Netherlands, a job that nobody would envy now, as he faced an unapologetic rebellion against the monarchy, led by William of Orange and supported by both England and France. His policy was ruthless and yet diplomatic, sacking several cities bloodily while trying to find a middle ground between the two factions, and in particular trying to cause a drift among linguistic and religious lines in the rebels, which failed due to a common shared outrage at the actions of the Duke of Alba and the King. Although officially rebelling for ‘the rights of Prince Karl, our Lord’, it was known that their goal was ridding themselves from the despotism of King Philip and the Spanish.

One of the few joys to the lives of Don Carlos and Elisabeth alike, was their daughter, who had, apparently, been conceived in Paris, during some of their last truly happy days together. The sole child of the couple, Isabella Clara Eugenia was beloved by her parents and by her grandfather as well, who confided to the mother he was glad she was a girl and not a boy. She wouldn’t see her father often, and it would always be under the close supervision of her mother, but he was always very happy to see her, and very warm and kind around her, never showing any of the tendencies Elisabeth had learned to fear in her husband.

Isabella was a very intelligent girl, whose mother made sure to get the very best tutors in Spain and, as she grew older, her father would get, surprisingly, quite involved in her education, at least considering his limitations. They both had a liking for mathematics, although Isabella proved herself more apt in that regard than her father had ever been, and she seemed as much of a polyglot as her father and, according to some, surpassing him and being an equal to her great-grandfather, Emperor Charles V. She learned Spanish, Portuguese, Italian, Dutch and French, although her mother only allowed her to practice the latter with her father, and always in her presence, to make sure she understood everything they shared with each other, fearing that her daughter too could be contaminated with Protestant thought (suffice it to say that, when it had come to cleaning his rooms from dangerous things, the French Bible had been treated as if a poisoned blade). The young Infanta was also a favourite of her grandfather, who exchanged many letters with her and had her visit the court at Toledo often; he would teach her about politics and matters of rulership, lessons she took to heart.

​

Infanta Isabella Clara Eugenia in her youth

In early 1578, almost ten years into the exile of Don Carlos into the Alcazar of Madrid, he received a curious letter. It seemed his cousin, King Sebastian of Portugal, was preparing a great campaign against Morocco, meant to put on the throne a sultan friendly to the Christian powers, rather than the Ottoman Porte. He was an ambitious young monarch, much like Carlos himself, who had great dreams of expanding Christendom to North Africa. And, for this great effort, he was asking for the support of his Spanish cousins. Don Carlos was quite interested in the prospect, suddenly hoping to be allowed to leave the Alcazar and join Sebastian in his campaign, one of his overjoyed moods of hope and excitement. And he was, of course, immediately rebuffed by his father, who not only wouldn’t even consider letting him leave his residence, much less to head on a military campaign, and in particular to a military campaign the King wasn’t particularly confident in, as he was rather sceptical of his nephew’s optimism.

Turns out King Philip was correct in his assessment for, as, in the one battle fought in the campaign, the infamous Battle of Alcácer Quibir, or the Battle of the Three Kings, was a great disaster for the Portuguese Army, who were outnumbered and outwitted by the Moroccan forces, 8000 dying and 15000 being captured, including the flower of Portuguese nobility, who were held to ransom by their captors, an unmitigated disaster unlike any the history of the country had ever seen. Among the dead, or at least the presumed dead, since they were never to be seen or head from again, was King Sebastian himself, whose body would never be found.

Sebastian had been negotiating with various other monarchs for a marriage for his royal person, notably with Princess Margaret of Valois, the youngest sister of Princess Elisabeth, with Elisabeth of Austria, a daughter of Emperor Maximillian II, and even opening up negotiations to wed Princess Isabella, for the sake of another formidable Iberian match. However, he had ultimately pledged himself not to marry until the Moroccan issue was resolved. As it turned out, it would never be resolved, and, upon his death, Sebastian had no sons or brothers to succeed him, his father having died before his birth. His closest living kin was, in fact, none other than Don Carlos himself who, by all rights, could claim for himself the Portuguese Crown.

​

King Sebastian of Portugal

The death of Sebastian immediately sparked a controversy as to who would succeed him; among the claimants, was Don Carlos and his father, King Philip, both being sons of Portuguese Infantas, Ranuccio, the eldest son of Alexander Farnese and his Portuguese Infanta wife (although that particular branch, out of respect for their Spanish cousins and patrons, wouldn’t press their claim very loudly, preferring to remain by the Netherlands), the Duke of Savoy, whose mother was also Portuguese, Catherine, the Duchess of Braganza, daughter of Infante Duarte, Duke of Guimaraes, António, Prior of Crato, a natural son of Infante Luís, Duke of Beja, and, lastly, the Cardinal-Prince Henry who, as Regent, was now tasked with trying to find a solution to this issue, as external forces looked hungrily at his country.

Neither Farnese nor Savoy bothered to press their claims, preferring to keep peace with their Spanish patrons. This effectively reduced the debate between the Spanish claimants and the Portuguese ones and, within each camp, between a father and a son, and between a woman, a bastard or an ordained elderly priest. Of those five, the first to withdraw himself from the race was Cardinal Henry, preferring instead to serve as mediator; although he did, for a time, consider the Crown, as the last legitimate member of the House of Aviz, the Pope had made it clear he would not release him from his vows, and he was old and tired already. Beyond dealing with the dispute, he was charged with negotiating the ransoms with the Moroccan sultan, an issue he struggled with greatly.

The Spanish had a privileged position; they were strong and wealthy, compared to the dilapidated Portuguese Army and Treasury that suffered from the battle and the ransoms. However, the prospect of falling under a foreign monarch concerned many of the notables of the Kingdom. When the allies of the Spanish cause approached King Philip, they therefore proposed that he renounce his claim in favour of supporting that of his son, genealogically closest and with the added benefit of delaying the inevitable union of the crowns. After dithering, Philip reluctantly accepted, sending a force to secure by arms the rights of Don Carlos to the Portuguese throne.

In Lisbon, Cardinal Henry consulted his regency council as to what action they should take. Having been already bribed by King Philip, the councillors advised for the Cardinal to recognise the claim of Don Carlos and allow the Spanish forces to enter Lisbon with open arms, which the Cardinal, although reluctant, eventually accepted, hoping that the wealth of the Spanish Monarchy could help restore the finances of the country and return the imprisoned nobles in Morocco.

Not all would be so welcoming, however, as some opponents of the Spanish started amassing around the only candidate who showed himself willing to fight it out, António, Prior of Crato, who amassed loyal forces in Santarém, ready to face the Spanish and block their march into Lisbon. However, his forces were few and not the very least prepared or capable of resisting the professional army sent to Lisbon with the Habsburg standard, led by Don John of Austria. It was an easy victory for the Spanish, forcing the Prior of Crato to flee, wounded and deserted, to the court of Queen Elizabeth of England.

Upon reaching Lisbon safely, Spanish forces led by Don John of Austria took over the city, welcomed by the Cardinal-Prince Regent Henry and his council, and summoned Don Carlos to come take his place as King of Portugal. For the first time in a decade, the Prince of Asturias was to not only leaving his home, but the country entirely, to rule once again, this time solely on his name, with no overlordship from his royal father

 

[Prince di Corsica]

Chapter V
Carlos Rey

Charles, King of Portugal​

Don Carlos was exhilarated with the news of his succession to the Portuguese throne. Ever since his forced removal from the governorship of the Netherlands and exile to the Alcazar of Madrid, Carlos had longed for a day when he could return to power, or at least leave the grounds of his residence, for obvious reasons. And, thanks to the naïve optimism and general ill-fortune of his late cousin Sebastian, he was now given the chance to do just that, as his presence was requested in Portugal, to be enthroned as King of that country, a sovereign of his own right with no overlord with a prerogative to come in and arrest him, as had happened before. In simple terms, he was free.

Don Carlos had never been in Portugal. He knew his mother was Portuguese, but he had never even met her, due to her dying just four days after giving birth to him. He had learned Portuguese growing up, alongside Castilian and Catalan, and he had read up on Portuguese History. He knew Portugal possessed a wealthy empire overseas, comparable to that of Spain alone, but the most important thing for him was that, henceforth, he was an equal monarch and outside the reach of his father.

So while some of the Portuguese people, in particular the burghers, were uneasy with the prospect of the union of crowns, fearing this new King would be under the influence of his father and the interests of Castile, rather than those of the realm itself, Don Carlos was, if anything, looking forwards for the separation of himself and the Crown represented in his father’s person, and, if anything, would be predisposed to act against his interests, a trait of his infamous stubbornness. This realisation, however, was not immediate and, before the Courts of Portugal could agree to his official enthronement, the Regent, Cardinal Henry, called them to meet in Lisbon where the exact questions regarding the succession and eventual personal union with the Spanish Empire were to be discussed.

The Courts of Lisbon of 1578​

When Don Carlos and his household arrived in Lisbon, they were received warmly by the nobility and high clergy of the country, the two pillars that were the greatest supporters of the union of the crowns, who found themselves endeared to their soon-to-be King, who to them seemed warm and joyous, even if they had heard rumours that stated things weren’t so perfect, and a Queen and Infanta who were quick to endear them as well with their grace and intelligence. They were a young and flourishing family, something the Portuguese desperately needed after a blundered succession crisis that had made blood run. Upon arrival, Don John of Austria, the commander of the Spanish forces holding the city, received Don Carlos in warmth, as if their friendship was just as strong, if not stronger, than how it had been ever before, as if all the causes of their separation had been forgiven for the sake of this act, as Carlos truly saw it as Don John delivering him his throne and his freedom.

The Cortes then opened, presided by the Regent and hosting representatives of the Three Estates. Of those, the former two were rather positive about the new Spanish monarch, with only the third being suspicious, fearing that he would set aside their own commercial interests, mainly those of maintaining peace and trade relations open in Europe and keeping the vast wealth of the Portuguese Empire under their monopoly, and generally preserving the laws they had fought so hard for. The main issue was simple – the King of Portugal was to stand for the interests of Portugal, not those of Castile; should those come into conflict, as was deemed inevitable, then Portuguese men and coin shouldn’t be used for the pursuit of goals contrary to the interest of the Portuguese.

It was when he was given word that Don Carlos surprised all of those present – not only did he agree, in a perfect Portuguese, it was necessary to safeguard Portuguese interests, but he presented himself as their champion against the conspiracies of his father to see all lands and peoples subjugated to him. Under his rule, he promised, the interests of Portugal would always be paramount, and he would never let himself be influenced by foreign powers to make his decisions, even those closest to him. While in Portugal, he’d be Portuguese.

The speech was acclaimed by the Cortes and, after a formal vow on how he’d respect and protect their ancient rights, laws and interests, such as establishing the unity of Portugal and its political separation from the Spains, for when those Crowns were to come to his person, Don Carlos and Princess Elisabeth were crowned in Lisbon as King Carlos of Portugal and Queen Isabel of Portugal, with their daughter becoming a Portuguese Infanta as well. The reign of Carlos Rex was just beginning.

Resistance didn’t end with the coronation, however. The forces loyal to the Prior of Crato remained actively struggling against Carlos, concentrated in the Azores where, with the support of foreign navies, they had taken control of the islands and had been resisting the advances. The rest of the Empire mostly asserted their loyalty to the King in Lisbon, but the Azores proved a tougher nut to crack, taking three years of assaults by the Portuguese and Spanish navies for the defendants of the islands to have to abandon them and forfeit their court in exile there.

The Prior of Crato, the last face of the Resistance​

Meanwhile, in Lisbon, a ruling government was set in place by the new King. One of his first actions was demanding that the Castilian forces depart the Portuguese territory, as accorded by the Courts, that defence of the territory would be by Portuguese soldiers. This upset the nobility and clergy alike, who saw in it the first sign of the true distancing Carlos planned on keeping in regards to his father. He did, however, ask Don John of Austria to remain in Lisbon and serve as his councillor, their friendship restored. Don John, while not particularly thrilled at seeing his martial life over, accepted, knowing that his brother, with whom his loyalties still lied, would want him to serve as his instrument in the Portuguese Crown. To compensate him for his losses on resigning his Spanish commission, Don Carlos awarded him the position of Constable of Portugal, the official head of the military. The Cardinal-Prince Henry was also appointed a councillor, as were the nobles and clergy that had been a part of his government, including the Archbishop of Lisbon, the Chamberlain of King Sebastian, who retained his position under Carlos, and the former ambassador to Rome.

However, despite the various councillors who, either by loyalty, like Don John of Austria, or by the purse, represented the interests of the King of Castile, they were powerless against the whims of Don Carlos, who spoke louder than any other voice. Their failure in bringing the King to support the interests of his father was noticeable when, in 1579, the Portuguese court was paid a visit by none other than William, Prince of Orange, leader of the rebellious Dutch who, for the past decade, had engaged in open struggle against the Spanish authorities, giving Alexander Farnese a permanent headache. Long gone the days of political disputes and talks of appeasement, in many Dutch cities the crowds demanded the prohibition of Catholicism and armies, often led by the Prince of Orange, clashed against the royal forces, who fared poorly against them, although sometimes Farnese would manage a victory, capturing and plundering a rebel city, but that only seemed to add fuel to the flames.

As it was, William of Orange now headed a faction within the revolt that called for moderation and tolerance. He disliked the attempts to ban Catholicism, both personally and politically, since he hoped to bring disaffected Catholics to his side. Instead of the drastic points some of his allies demanded, William had a strategy he had come to Lisbon to try and implement – the Netherlands, united in the Union of Utrecht, a treaty binding them together against Philip, would declare him deposed and call upon his son and heir, Don Carlos himself, to become their new sovereign, as Protector of the Liberty of the Netherlands. With this, William hoped to appease the moderates, as they wouldn’t be fully abjuring from their oaths to the House of Habsburg, and the Catholics, considering the Protector of the Liberty would be Catholic himself (if with a wink, as William knew quite well).

William of Orange​

One could argue why exactly the conspiracy failed. It might have been William of Orange overreaching his hand and revealing that, should Don Carlos not accept, he would make the same offer to the Duke of Anjou, which Carlos certainly wouldn’t have appreciated. It could have been the terms of the treaty, that create a constitutional system that placed far more power in the Estates in relation to the monarch as was usual, limiting the powers of Don Carlos himself, another thing he was bound to dislike. Perhaps it was the pressures of the Portuguese nobility and clergy who, curiously enough, used the terms of the vow taken before the Courts, of not using Portuguese forces for the benefit of interests of other crowns (this time the Dutch one) he might come to hold, terms that had been designed precisely to keep the Spanish from using the Portuguese forces to fight the Dutch in the first place. It might have been Cardinal Henry who persuaded him that the Portuguese forces and treasury were still too weak to engage in such an adventure after the disaster at Alcácer Quibir. Or maybe it was the persuasion of Queen Elisabeth and Don John of Austria, who stated that, while going against the interests of his father was one thing, rebelling against him was a different thing altogether.

What matters, however, is that, ultimately, probably through a combination of all those factors, Don Carlos decided against helping William and the Dutch who, after failing to strike a deal with the Duke of Anjou, accepted that they needed to cross a more radical road, formally abjuring their loyalty to King Philip and House Habsburg and proclaiming a Dutch Republic, with William of Orange as Prince-Protector. During his tenure as King, Don Carlos, would not openly support the Dutch against his father, but neither did he help him against them, rather maintaining a strong neutrality and, until the very end, receiving the same treatment from the Dutch Republic.

This Dutch crisis, however, would prove the first major confrontation between Charles and the Portuguese nobility, who had been clear that they would not tolerate his use of Portuguese resources for the Dutch Revolt. A major pillar in this relationship would fall the following year, with the death of Cardinal Henry, the very last male member of the House of Aviz. To replace him, Don Carlos called to his council the most powerful member of the Portuguese nobility, the Duke of Braganza whom, after having attempted to secure his wife as heiress to the throne, had accepted the ascension of Don Carlos and declared his loyalty for him. He would die in 1583, but his son, Theodosius, the new Duke, remained at court, becoming a loyal subject of the King. His mother, the pretender herself, even hoped to betroth him to Infanta Isabella, and hence unite their claims and end any animosity that there might have been in the past. Of course, Queen Elisabeth did not even give the idea consideration.

The issues of the nobility in Portugal, in particular in the circumstances they were at, was represented better by no voice other than Juliana of Lencastre, the only daughter of Jorge, Duke of Aveiro, another powerful noble of the realm who had perished in Alcácer-Quibir, a fate similar to many other nobles in the kingdom, but none of them leaving a wealthier and more complicated case to settle. For no noble house was wealthier than that of the Dukes of Aveiro save the Dukes of Braganza, both of them bastard lines of the House of Aviz.

The death of Duke Jorge left a question regarding succession: according to the Mental Law, all nobility titles in Portugal, officially donated to the Crown to a noble line, could only be inherited through a male line, upon the extinction of which they would be extinct and returned to the Crown, unless given royal permission to pass to a female line. In the cause of the Duke of Aveiro, this meant that his daughter would be ignored in the succession and the title pass to a distant cousin, Álvaro of Lencastre, who indeed claimed the title for himself, bringing a dispute between the two branches of the family.

Juliana of Lencastre (not really)
Duchess of Aveiro​

Juliana of Lencastre appealed her case before the King, hoping he’d give her the assent she needed to rule in her own name and push back her cousin. But, beyond her own succession, this issue was one that was found along many prominent Portuguese families, where the heirs of the dead in Morocco now fought amongst themselves for whom possessed the rights to what. Many had a lot to win if the King acceded to the right of a daughter to inherit her father’s lands and titles, especially when they were married to potential heiresses, while other nobles from junior branches of wealthy dynasties had much to win should their senior relatives be declared extinct. The truth was, there was no sensible step to take that wouldn’t find the opposition of much of the nobility.

Carlos himself dithered on the decision, having voices in each side trying to tell him what to do, something which he had grown to dislike. The entire affair would also leave him quite stressed, which led to him attempting to ignore the question for a good period, going around the situation of there being two contesting Dukes of Aveiro, to say nothing of various contesting title-holders for several titles.

This changed when, out of all people, John of Austria got involved in the matter, to the side of Juliana of Lencastre. How their relationship started exactly is not certain, while the predilections of the Constable were infamous, and the Duchess herself was a young and wealthy heiress who was quite comely as well, making her quite the logical target for the Austrian bastard. In any case, by 1585 John of Austria approached the King, who continued to feel harassed to make a decision on the matter, presenting him his proposal to settle the matter – the titles and lands of the Dukes of Aveiro would be passed to his own person, through marriage to Juliana. In that way, the question of female inheritance could be made less complex and would provide forces staunchly loyal to the King (as John put it) in charge of some great assets in the Kingdom.

King Carlos was, at first, quite happy with the solution – not only would it solve the Aveiro question, but it would do so in a manner that would express his true feelings on the matter – he had no intent on marking a precedent to be thrown back at him each time he wanted to make a decision, disliking the general resource to ancient and faded laws to justify why he should or should not act as he pleased. He would support Juliana because that meant supporting his friend, his own interests. That was the message he wanted to send.

However, John of Austria had made a fatal mistake – he had admitted he was interested in a woman, and that it went beyond the obvious wealth and titles issue – he truly cared for her. She was a beautiful noblewoman, that was true, but even so such behaviour was unlike Don Juan, who had been a lifelong womaniser, as had been both Alexander Farnese and Don Carlos, in the times before the latter’s marriage. He was morbidly curious as to what exactly his friend saw in her, and so he began approaching her, as a sovereign would a notable woman, and inviting her on walks and card games, as common among friends, hoping to get to know her and, as ultimately Father to the Kingdom, evaluate if she was the most proper bride for one of his children he was fondest of.

Juliana herself, and John, wanting to ensure the King stayed on their side, allowed him to do what he believed was very casual courtship, while the Queen herself decided not to interfere, mostly because both her and the Constable could notice in the mannerisms of the King that he was close to breaking into one of his fiercer moods, and so Juliana of Lencastre was instructed on how to be especially careful around him and avoid triggering it herself. They set up a date for the wedding, intending on having the newly-wed couple escape to their estates after the marriage, on the pretence of getting acquainted with their lands, and simply wait until the mood of Carlos was stabler. Juliana herself intended not to ever set foot in Lisbon again, as the King terrified her. He wasn’t courteous as much as he was frightening and aggressive.

Tragedy struck, however, just a few weeks before the date set for the wedding ceremony. The King was walking the soon-to-be Duchess of Aveiro, only to, in what was a perfectly innocent accident, he tripped on a small rock. And worse, Juliana could not help but giggling at his figure. That was enough to, after months of tensions piling in kingly duties, for the moods of the King to be triggered and a state of unmitigated wrath ensuing. Suffice it to say that, when it was all over, the King was bloodied all over and the Lencastre heiress, more than dead, was utterly mangled, beyond recognition if not for her jewellery, in fact.

The scandal was immediate. One of the highest noblewomen in the country had been murdered by the King himself in a fit of maddened rage that confirmed all the rumours that gossip had spread throughout Europe. And unlike anything that Carlos had done before, this act was simply too heinous to be brushed off for the convenience of those involved. Someone would have to answer for it.

 

[Prince of Permsia]

Yikes.

 

[Prince di Corsica]

Yikes.

Yeah this isn't a happy story.

All inspired by tales of the episodes Don Carlos suffered.

 

[Prince di Corsica]

Chapter VI
Restoration

[image had to be removed, will find another]​

After the death of Juliana of Lencastre, Carlos' sanity, which had never been the strongest, was completely shattered. He himself abhorred immensely the action he was just coming to terms as him having done with his own two hands, not only one account of the innocence of the lady, her high status at the court and, worst of all, for her being the one his friend John had chosen to share his life with. His distress reached such heights that the King even kneeled before his friend, weeping and begging him to forgive him, something which was very, very unlike the Don Carlos had known all his life, which in itself greatly worried the Constable who, for that reason, decided to remain at the court, after considering to depart immediately for Toledo.

Outside the royal palace, matters became dire as well. The families of the nobility began leaving the court for their own estates, starting with their daughters who, for their own protection, were kept away from the king. Invitations to return to court were ignored; for all matters, the nobility had withdrawn its support from the King, terrified at which of them would be next.

As it turns out, the first noble family to fall under the wrath of the King was the remaining of the Lencastre family, in particular Álvaro de Lencastre who, with his cousin and rival claimant dead, took up the family title of Duke of Aveiro, only to be met with the full wrath of the King, who disliked being reminded of his actions and believed Álvaro was mocking him and going against his authority by taking up the ducal mantle. He had the man arrested and executed, claimed the title of the Duchy of Aveiro forfeited to the Crown, awarded it to Don John of Austria, as had been agreed upon before the tragedy (as if trying to act is if it hadn’t occurred) and sent the Lencastre family running for their lives, fleeing the country to foreign lands, mostly Spain, where King Philip received them well, and to the Netherlands, where many Portuguese exiles were already gathered, watching the storm brew.

And a storm was brewing. With the withdrawal of the support from the nobility, the stability of the realm was at risk, in particular because the burghers were still unhappy with the eventual fate of the country to be united under the Spanish Crown which, regardless of any sympathies the current King might have with them, would still eventually mean that Portugal would be tied to burdensome wars through Europe, with the Netherlands and Italy. And they were just as upset at the death of Juliana of Lencastre as the nobles, seeing her as a fellow Portuguese woman slaughtered by a foreign monarch turned tyrant.

The burghers were also quite unhappy with the current state of relations with the Dutch, whose trade was quite important for their own profits. The current state of the King had made things much more difficult, as, hearing his enemies met there and receiving news that William of Orange had declared himself as Prince-Protector of the Liberties of the Netherlands, the very title he had promised him, the King had started, in his wrath, to target Dutch merchants in the kingdom and doing actions that hurt the trade relations, much to the loss of the Portuguese burghers, who began turning on the King.

Among the dissidents who decided to side with the King, most notably was the House of Braganza, whose Duke, having spent his youth in Lisbon, had grown loyal to the King and, even though he was certainly heartbroken at the news of the horrible death of his kin Juliana, he decided to do what was proper and continue to openly stand with the King, even though calls for him to return to his estates were loud among his family.

Theodosius II, Duke of Braganza​

In early 1588, news came that King Philip was preparing a grand armada which, after having suffered raids from English privateers led by Francis Drake at Cadiz, now planned to invade England, depose Queen Elizabeth and restore Catholicism in the name of his new wife, Marie Stuart, Queen of the Scots and claimant to the throne of England herself. Such desire ran deep in the King, who hoped to end the English support for the Dutch rebels and their attacks on the precious American trade. He had received the blessing of the Pope, who treated the expedition as a Crusade, and plotted with prominent English Catholics, from aristocrats to common traders, to help him in his campaign. And now, he wanted the support of Portugal and its powerful navy, which would be essential to guarantee the success of the expedition.

This campaign was meant to be a magnus opus for Philip – after his failure in siring a Catholic heir with Mary, he would now return England to the Catholic fold – using force. With the fall of England, he assumed, the rest of the heresy would start to crumble – starting in the Netherlands and then onto Germany. So, he ensured that all his agents and allies in Lisbon worked towards the same goal – persuading Carlos to join him in this campaign. Princess Elisabeth and John of Austria were important parts of that campaign, which brought Carlos quite close to consider actually supporting his father in the effort. But, in the end, it was to no avail, as the burghers of Lisbon, hearing of the plan, immediately protested, as taking part in the expedition would go against the principles he’d agreed to upon his coronation. Although annoyed at seeing his powers restricted, Carlos abided, more to get the burghers off his back than anything, not having been particularly interested in the project to begin with. For the burghers, however, even the thought of taking part in the Armada was enough for them to mistrust the King and his commitment to the national interests.

The Spanish Armada was, of course, a disaster of epic proportions – tens of thousands died, among them Alexander Farnese, whose body was never recovered from the depths, much to the distraught of his friends in Lisbon. Carlos is said to have been so affected by the news of his friend’s demise that he got into a long melancholic mood, even though the two of them hadn’t seen each other for twenty years. It also meant that, for what the enemies of Spain knew was just a sliver of an opportunity, the Spanish Navy was all but inoperable, leaving them vulnerable to an attack. But they had to act quickly and find a way to weaken them permanently, otherwise such an opportunity wouldn’t arise ever again. They had to be swift and they had to win.

The Fall of the Spanish Armada​

Fortunately for the plans of the archenemies of the Spanish King, the English and the Dutch, there was a perfect way to surgically strike against the very heart of the Spanish Empire and weaken it considerably, or, at the very least, prevent it from coming into the behemoth of strength they knew to be possible. It would be complicated, but it might just work if done properly. The plan was simple – take out King Carlos. The heir to the Empire, the one under whom the Iberian Crowns would eventually merge, and a madman who was no longer tolerated by the vast majority of his own subjects. His fall would lead the Empire to disarray and break away the connection between the two Crowns, all of which was more useful to England and the Netherlands than any loot an old-fashioned sack might provide. So it was decided.

Allies were sought and found in Portugal, from the nobility and the burghers alike, starting with those that had opposed and fought the enthronement of the Spanish prince in the first place, but quickly adding to their ranks others who at first had remained neutral in the matter and some who had even supported, both diplomatically or even militarily, the Spanish forces, and now, horrified by the prospects of Carlos remaining on the throne, decided to join this new conspiracy. Of course, beyond the fact Carlos must go, little else was in agreement – some called for a new monarch of the slew of non-Habsburg candidates, each with their own party to them, others called for the enthronement under regency of Infanta Isabella, and others called still for King Philip to take over. But their goal was, at first, the same – to get rid of the mad king they now had.

The Portuguese wing of the conspiracy had the task of ridding themselves of the King and securing the resources of the realm, while their allies would prepare to help fight off the Spanish invasion that would be coming once the deed was done.

As any player of chess will tell, the king has no chance of surviving if he’s playing alone. And although King Carlos still had his Queen and his knight, John of Austria, under his service, a formidable if sparse team, they proved too little to protect him from what came after him. On April 1589, while riding his coach through Lisbon, near the Ribeira Palace, Don Carlos fell victim to an assassin, who stabbed him repeatedly, only to run before he could be apprehended by the royal guards. His identity would never be discovered, but there were much more solid suspicions as to whom might have sent the assassin the way of the king.

The assassination of King Carlos of Portugal​

Chaos followed as, taking advantage of the commotion that came along the regicide, the conspirators started moving the levers to take over control of the country. The nobles in the countryside, taking over several forts and regiments ‘in the name of the Crown’, mostly not defining that well on whose shoulders it rested, while the burghers took over Lisbon, or at least vital parts of it, fighting against the forces loyal to the King within the city. A bloody civil strife followed, where the royal partisans, led by John of Austria, were outnumbered and outplayed by the forces following the leading burghers, who rallied the crowds to their favour. The loyalist forces might have been better-trained, but training only gets a royal guard so far when facing the mob. Eventually, knowing their cause was doomed, John of Austria gave orders that the Queen Dowager and the Infanta Isabella were taken outside of Lisbon and safely across the Spanish border. It is said that, although their coach was caught by burgher forces before exiting the city, they allowed the two of them to leave safely; they held no grudges against the Queen or the Infanta, who had done no harm to them. John of Austria wasn’t so lucky – not only was he associated with the death of Juliana of Lencastre (even if unfairly), but he was leading the loyalist forces. He was killed in combat while trying to hold the city and his body defaced in a humiliating manner afterwards by the victorious mob.

Of course, as the nobles and burghers took over, it soon became clear who they were taking over for. Among the nobility, the first choice for King was either Infanta Isabella or King Philip, but it soon became clear that, after the regicide of their kin, no Habsburg dynast would accept collaborating with the new powers. Even if Philip didn’t particularly care for his son, they had still killed his kin, an act of treason so unacceptable that there would be dire consequences to pay once he took over. The favourite Portuguese candidate of the nobility, the Duke of Braganza, was also out of question, as he had joined the Royal family in escaping Lisbon, and was said to have gotten a commission in the Spanish forces assembling to invade the country.

Ultimately, as the sheer necessity to collaborate with the maritime powers became dire, and as their own candidates proved unfeasible, the nobles had to acquiesce to the choice of the burghers and the foreign powers who had pledged their support for the Portuguese Restoration, as they were calling their movement, António, Prior do Crato, who arrived at Lisbon brought by an English fleet led by Sir Francis Drake, much to popular acclaim of the people of Lisbon, who welcomed him as a liberator from the tyranny and the madness of Don Carlos. With the English, came formidable forces to help defeat the Spanish, further helping the Prior make the comparisons of his own ascension to that of the Aviz dynasty, back in the 14th century – a royal bastard chosen to lead the country in lieu of foreign oppression, hailed by the bourgeoisie and their English allies.

King Anthony I of Portugal​

Of course, it wouldn’t be an easy struggle – although severely battered by the loss of life during the expedition against England, the Spanish army was still a formidable force, and the Portuguese were still hurt from the great loss at Morocco, twelve years before. The fact that the King was a bastard backed by Protestant powers and with null chances of actually being recognised by the Spanish-friendly papacy did not help. However, besides the support of the English and the Dutch (who were still making Spain bleed in the Southern Netherlands, as holding on to land there proved increasingly challenging), the Portuguese uprising also had the support of France and its monarch, the recently Catholic Henry IV. This meant that, effectively, the Spanish were fighting in three fronts – against the Portuguese and English in Portugal, against the French in France and against the Dutch in the Southern Netherlands, to say nothing of their eventual involvement with the Long Turkish War their Austrian relatives had decided to wage over the Balkans. The Portuguese weren’t particularly fit at the moment, but the fact of the matter was the Spanish had been exhausting themselves, enough to make their weakness unproblematic. The global empire envisioned by King Philip started collapsing the moment his son died.

 

[Zygmunt Stary]

rtuguese uprising also had the support of France and its monarch, the recently Catholic Henry IV. This meant that, effectively, the Spanish were fighting in three fronts – against the Portuguese and English in Portugal, against the French in France and against the Dutch in the Southern Netherlands, to say nothing of their eventual involvement with the Long Turkish War their Austrian relatives had decided to wage over the Balkans. The Portuguese weren’t particularly fit at the moment, but the fact of the matter was the Spanish had been exhausting themselves, enough to make their weakness unproblematic. The global empire envisioned by King Philip started collapsing the moment his son died.

It seems like the title of the thread is elaborate trolling, one could expect don Carlos wank and we ended up with Crato ascension.

 

[Prince di Corsica]

It seems like the title of the thread is elaborate trolling, one could expect don Carlos wank and we ended up with Crato ascension.

Oh, I'm sorry to disappoint. I thought the "Madness" part was enough to convey the sense that things wouldn't be going that well.

 

[Zygmunt Stary]

Oh, I'm sorry to disappoint. I thought the "Madness" part was enough to convey the sense that things wouldn't be going that well.

Not disappoint, more like surprise. I thought that Charles would be mad king tormenting Europe with his madness for long.

 

[Prince of Permsia]

Carlos is certainly mad. I don't think things could have gone much better for him politically. One act sent him into a spiral, whereas it might otherwise might have been a series of smaller actions. He was capable of controlling himself around Elizabeth of Valois, both in your timeline and ours, but not much else.
I'm not sure I buy Juan of Austria staying loyal to him after he killed his love. In real life he turned Carlos in to his father after he revealed his plans to go to the Netherlands. I'm also not sure I buy Alexander Farnese drowning with the Armada. If the army had been ready they would have made a quick hop across the channel. Maybe he decided to head back to Spain and leave the Army of Flanders behind? Are we getting an epilogue. I want to know what happened to Elizabeth and her daughter, and if Philip managed to father any other children.

 

[Awkwardvulture]

Very cool TL, though I hope for some sort of Habsburg resoration in Portugal under the Infanta Isabella... After all, even if Phillip has living sons with Mary Queen of Scots, it would still be in their interest to help Isabella as their niece, but if he dosen't, then Isabella as the heiress to Spain could one day try to take Portugal again.... No doubt Phillip certainly wishes it was Carlos that died, at birth and not Maria Manuela...

 

[Prince di Corsica]

Chapter VII
Epilogue

Don Carlos was but the first in many deaths to come​

Carlos, Prince of Asturias, Governor of the Netherlands, King of Portugal, is, without doubt, one of the most interesting historical personalities to ever have lived. His remains rest at El Escorial, next to most of his family, having been sent there as a symbol of good-faith when the negotiations for peace between the Portuguese and Spanish monarchies started to sign the Treaty of The Hague.

This treaty was signed between the Portuguese, the English, the Dutch, the French and the Spanish, with the supervision of the Holy See, in 1609, after what had been decades of war between those powers. Despite being rather momentous, of course, the treaty itself did very little more than acknowledge the realities that had been shaped through the developments of that decades-long conflict.

The Portuguese conflict was never that militarily active. After the first attempt at sending an army into Portugal failed, the front stagnated and there wouldn’t be any significant battles for the first four years, and the first major battle was actually within Spanish territory after a Portuguese offensive. Although the Portuguese were victorious, the battle had heavy losses and no such incursion was attempted again. After that, the front stagnated, as the Portuguese decided against doing further deep incursions and the Spanish proving incapable of getting past the frontier fortresses across the Portuguese border. At the fifth year of the war, both powers decided to adopt a defensive strategy; the Portuguese didn’t need to take Spanish territory to win and the Spanish didn’t have the ability to overpower them either. This stalemate would last 14 years of what was essentially armed peace, with the ever so often punitive incursion across the border, mostly committed by locals as bloody vengeance for feuds they had against their neighbours across the border.

Meanwhile, a parallel war developed, on the diplomatic level: that towards the recognition of António, Prior do Crato, as King António of Portugal, and the Dynasty of Crato that would follow him. This would be a great necessity as, not only was António himself a bastard (even though he claimed not to be so, stating his parents had married in secret), but his children, in particular his heir, Manuel of Crato, were also technically bastards, although their father, to further their cause, did marry his long-time mistress, Ana Barbosa, Queen Ana of Portugal, who had kept him company for decades already, since his times in Tangier and throughout his exile.

Manuel of Crato, only son of King António​

Despite all of that, those claims were still quite shaky and, ultimately, to be monarch of Portugal one would have to get the blessing on the Pope, which was far from easy to be accomplished because, ultimately, the Pope was in the Spanish pocket. These were similar troubles faced by the Huguenot Henry of Navarre, now Henry IV of France, who had been excommunicated by the Pope as King Philip of Spain had his own Catholic candidate in mind for the French throne, among the leaders of the House of Guise and the Catholic League.

The Pope at the time of the Restoration was Sixtus V who, although he had flirted with recognising Henry IV, had had his loyalties reminded by the diplomatic powers of the Spanish King and, therefore, he spent the rest of his life evading calls for recognition from both the French monarch and the new Portuguese king as well. The election of a more anti-Spanish successor brought up the hopes of the Franco-Portuguese cause later in 1590, but the elected Urban VII died within 12 days of his ascension, scarcely any time to solve their crisis. Gregory XIV followed, and he began his mandate by renewing the excommunication of Henry IV and excommunicating António of Portugal alongside him, quoting his ‘dealings with Protestants’ as the cause for it, as a way to further align himself with the Spanish King. After not even a year of reign, followed by another short-lived Pope, Innocent IX, who, through his two months of Papacy, declared his support for the Spanish cause and even planned on taking arms against the King of France, had his death not cut his endeavours short.

It wouldn’t be until the reign of Pope Clement VIII that some form of conciliation between the Catholic powers could start to emerge: the Pope, having dealt during his Cardinalate with the tampering of politics and national interests in the issues of the Church, wanted to end the madness; he took up a non-politicised Papal name and set himself as the face of a new, more balanced and more liberal Catholic Church, freed from the chokehold of Spanish influence, as Spanish influence in Europe started to decay as well. Clement VIII accepted the conversion of Henry IV of France to the Catholic fold, suggesting Paris is well worth a mass, and assured the French people of the sincerity of their King’s conversion, absolving him from the various excommunications his predecessors had imposed on him. Although this wouldn’t immediately end the French Wars of Religion, the civil conflict raging for decades over religion in France, it would weaken severely the power of the ultra-Catholics under the House of Guise. Spanish support would continue for a further decade, even if never to the amounts it had reached before the conversion and Papal support.

Clement VIII would also recognise the legitimacy of both King António and his children, a move that was credited with cementing their hold on the Portuguese throne. With this, he hoped to bring to an end the wasteful war in Iberia, but that wouldn’t be the case – it would be a while before peace was agreed upon. In fact, King António died but a year later after achieving papal recognition, with the Crown falling to his recently-legitimised son, who became King Manuel II, helping to cement the Dynasty of Crato, as history will know them, in yet another homage to their Aviz predecessors.

Clement VII, the Reconciliator​

Manuel, before becoming King, arrived at Lisbon not long after his father and, to the general surprise, brought with him a bride, Countess Emilia of Nassau, the youngest daughter of William of Orange, whom he had met and married during his time in exile. Her father supported the match between the two; it cemented the alliance with the Crato dynasty, consecrated both their houses as royal ones and, very importantly for William who, ultimately, remained a believer in coexistence between Protestants and Catholics. The countess retained her faith, however, and, despite the controversy their new Protestant princess caused, she proved to be a strong queen who served as her husband’s greatest ally through the difficult times of his reign, while also providing, for the first time in far too long, a stable succession for the Kingdom, having eight surviving children among them, including the future King Manuel III and Duke Cristóvão of Beja, whose lineages would ensure the independence of the country after the sad experience with a foreign dynast.

Speaking of the Dutch and of William of Orange, by 1594 he had achieved a final victory over the Spanish forces, after deterring them for more than a decade. Having withstood the attacks against Brussels and Antwerp back in 1585, he now held most of the Netherlands in his control, as Protector of its Liberties, a title that gave him vast executive powers not unlike those of a typical monarch, an equivalence he now tried to assert by marrying other European royal families. The pro-Spanish Union of Arras had been defeated and, although Luxembourg remained as Maastricht remained in Spanish hands, the wealthiest cities and provinces of the region were fiercely his, and a system of government, centred around Antwerp, the wealthiest of the cities of the Netherlands, began forming, promoting the ideas of the Dutch Revolt, whatever those were, either religious tolerance or Protestant supremacy. The war never stopped in the region, but it certainly stopped being quite as dynamic after 1594, with incursions making little gains, but making much destruction on each side.

King Philip II, enemy of the Dutch, the French, the English and the Portuguese, would pass away in 1598, with no living children. His third wife, his own niece Anna of Austria, had bore him only daughters, and all of those had died in childhood. By the time of his death, Philip had already recognised that he would only have one living descendant to inherit his thrones, Infanta Isabella, daughter of his late son Carlos and his dear daughter-in-law Elisabeth who, now widowed, remained at the Alcazar of Madrid, where she had spent the good part of a decade with her husband and daughter, in their darkest hour. She mourned him every day until her own death in 1595, her heart still broken at how dark her life had become.

The Infanta would become Queen Isabella II, at 30 years of age. Since her return to Spain, a question of vital importance, as a great heiress to a troubled empire, was who ought to be her husband. She needed not a skilful man; she was pretty skilled herself, being quite intelligent and capable in politics, taught by her grandfather. However, she did need a husband to provide a succession to come after her, a succession to the endeavours of her dynasty. And, in this regard, there were a few possibilities to choose from, for the sake of different aspects of the policy of her grandfather.

Isabella II, Queen of the Spains​

For the sake of appeasing the Portuguese, the Duke of Braganza, Theodosius, offered his hand to the Infanta. An influential candidate to the Portuguese throne, he promised that, should she accept his offer, then the Portuguese would abandon ‘their bastard’ and follow their rightful monarchs. Philip saw that the Duke was promising more than he could offer, however, and dismissed the betrothal. By that point, Braganza was as popular in Portugal as he himself was. And besides, he didn’t want to appease the Portuguese: he wanted to crush them.

For the sake of defeating the French Huguenots, the Duke of Guise, Charles, offered his hand as well. He was the leader of the Catholic League, after the assassination of his father, and he was the man that the League was hoping to place in the throne, rather than the Protestant Henry of Navarre. Philip supported them in this endeavour and, if successful, they would establish a very strong Catholic bloc in the west that would allow him to take revenge upon the English and crush the Dutch rebellion (and with that, evidently, recover Portugal as well), a master stroke that would see his losing strategy change the tide. The Papal recognition of Henry of Navarre as King of France, however, would change all of that drastically; suddenly, the Catholic League was quite less powerful and, soon afterwards, even the Duke of Guise recognise the Navarrese claim to France, in exchange of a large bribe. With that, the chances for a Spanish match were thrown out of the window.

And finally, for the sake of unity between the Habsburg branches, Spanish and Imperial, and for the continuing of Habsburg rule over the Spanish Empire, there was a proposal for her to marry one of her Austrian cousins, sons of Emperor Maximillian II. Since Emperor Rudolph announced he had no intention to marry, Ernest died in 1595, it fell to the third son, Matthias, to marry the Infanta. This was believed to be a wise decision, but it proved problematic as, soon after their marriage, the signs of mental decay of Rudolph, the childless emperor, began appearing and, as the oldest of the archdukes, it fell onto Matthias to take control over the Empire. He had to pressure his brothers to declare his brother mad and declare him head of the family and take power away from Rudolph, who struggled against each step enclosing on him. With that struggle came a great deal of complications to the Spanish Empire, who now saw itself become entangled in a civil war of their Austrian cousins, beyond the various conflicts they were already involved in. To say nothing that, once Matthias took the imperial crown, the prospects of the Spanish and Austrian lines of Habsburgs reuniting in an empire that shadowed that of Charles V appealed to exactly nobody in Europe, even when that empire was full with internal strife.

Matthias, King-Consort of Spain, Holy Roman Emperor​

It was all of those issues that eventually forced Queen Isabella, much less affected by pride than both her grandfather and father, to come to the table with the enemies of her family, but not before trying her own hand at European war for 11 years. At The Hague, her ambassadors and those of the various monarchs and rebels (depending on whom you asked) finally reached a treaty that allowed for peace to return to Europe, if only temporarily. Various points were discussed.

Firstly, Portugal and all her empire were to be freed from any allegiance to the Spanish Monarchy, and the kingship of King Manuel II and the House of Crato accepted, from Ceuta to Macau. Trade relations between the countries were to be normalised and, eventually, the frontiers in South America discussed. The truth was that, in the end of the day, the Iberian nations were trade partners and that the permanent warfare of decades had only weakened both of their economies, to say nothing of the colonial disturbances.

In the Netherlands, the Queen would concede to have the Union of Utrecht and the Prince-Protector to rule over the Provinces, while officially still declaring homage to her and being part of the Holy Roman Empire. This meant very little in the end, of course, but allowed some discretion to be kept. The County of Luxembourg and the city of Brabant would remain in the hands of the Habsburg Monarchy, however, outside the jurisdiction of the Prince-Protector, an arrangement that nobody particular cared for.

In France, the terms were simple: Isabella would recognise the kingship of Henry IV and his conversion to Catholicism. The civil war had died out for a while by the time the treaty was signed, but the peace reasserted the rights of the newly-risen Bourbon dynasty.

England also received similar conditions in their peace treaty, with the addendum of recognising Spanish supremacy in the New World, a state of affairs that wouldn’t last for too long, however. The new Stuart dynasty was secure. There had been talks of imposing tolerance for Catholics in the Kingdom but, after the failed Gunpowder Plot, such talks were thrown out of the window.

Putting it bluntly, the treaty marked the defeat of many of the ambitious ventures of Philip of Spain. The English would remain Protestant, and so would the Netherlands. The French remained more Politique than Catholic and the Portuguese regained their independence. Despite presiding over this, neither Isabella nor her treaty were disparaged; the Spanish nobility was keenly aware of the issues facing them and how the country had become exhausted from too much ambitious. They recognised, even if reluctantly, that the Spanish Century was over and that now came the time to retreat, reorganise and survive. And Isabella had a great talent for such sort of business. Even if their foreign ventures failed, the internal matters of Spain flourished during this era, and so did those of the Empire, as Isabella proved essential to attain an uneasy peace between its various pieces, through small but vital shows of tolerance for its Protestant rulers.

To the west, the relationship between the English, Dutch and Portuguese continued to flourish. The two former, having grown more powerful and being able to face Spain and finally reach colonial dreams of their own, began looking to the west, to the New World, where they sought the wealthy trade the Spanish either ignored or monopolised, depending on the area. They established colonies in the Atlantic coast of North America, a territory quite unexplored by the Spanish, dividing it peacefully (that is, peacefully after a few minor conflicts) among the Susquehanna River, with the Dutch establishing north of it their New Netherland and the English establishing to the south their colonies of Virginia and Carolina. The French, on their own hand, carved for themselves an immense amount of territory going through the North American mainland, from Acadia and the Saint Laurence River region they called ‘Canada’ to the shores of Louisiana, a vast stretch of land dubbed New France. However, relations with the French were not to last as, eventually, conflicts emerged between them and all those around them. They wanted the French-speaking Southern Netherlands, they wanted Brazil, they wanted everything on the face of the Earth, truthfully. The only thing keeping them at bay being that they were neither friends of Spain nor friends of the enemies of Spain, proving the old adage false. But France in itself was a great power, and so worthy of respect.

To the east, those were the domains of Portugal, close allies to the Dutch and English, which kept it somewhat off-bounds for the naval incursions. However, naval incursions would have proved both unnecessary and expensive as, knowing of its limitations and needing both access to European markets and to keep good relations (and promises), the Portuguese allowed for Dutch and English ships to trade with its colonies, as long as they passed through Lisbon on their way, to maintain the monopoly of the Portuguese Crown over their trade. These conditions were acceptable, and indeed they were old tradition between those partners.

Rather than create colonies of their own, the English and Dutch merchants would settle and help expand and defend Portuguese colonies in the East, creating a ‘Flemish element’, not dissimilar from that which already existed in the Azores. In the Northeast of Brazil, the greatest sugar refiners were of Flemish stock, while the landowners who produced the sugar were Portuguese. In the East Indies, the Flemish had a great impact in expanding the colonies, giving them a great amount of influence over the region. From Macau to Oman, passing through the wealthy shores of Java, they operated as some of the greatest traders and bankers of the region. Religious tolerance was granted to the Flemish (helped by the measures that had been taken during the reign of King Carlos to curb the power of the Inquisition), but eventually, the majority of them would convert to Catholicism and mostly intermarry with the Portuguese and the locals alike. Today, the term ‘Flemish’ in the Portuguese context refers more to a style of art, cuisine and even manners, mostly hybrid forms of those inherited from the original immigrants, rather than a true caste of people.

The Flemish style in Portuguese art,
a mark in art of an important
historical relationship​

With this, one can lay down their pen, having described the life and times of Don Carlos, the Mad King of Portugal, and the number of great people he lived alongside with, from his wife, Elisabeth of Valois, the one who loved him until the end, their daughter, Isabella, one of the wisest monarchs Spain was fortunate to have, his friends, John of Austria, one of the most renowned commanders of the era, and Alexander Farnese, the first victim of the failed Spanish Armada, his father, the overly ambitious Philip of Spain who led his empire to ruin, and many others who crossed his path, be it the Duke of Alba, William of Orange or António of Crato. If anyone one person can be fit to help describe that era, in the history of Spain and the world, it is him, mostly through no fault of his own. The two key words would be: madness and decadence.

 

[Awkwardvulture]

Excellent job, it's an especially nice touch to see Isabella ascend as Isabella II, a great peacemaker!

 

[Prince of Permsia]

Giving that Spain does not collapse into catastrophic civl war, I assume Isabella was able to have children with Mathias.

 

[Prince di Corsica]

Excellent job, it's an especially nice touch to see Isabella ascend as Isabella II, a great peacemaker!

I always liked Isabella Clara Eugenia (who is essentially, even in genetic terms, this Isabella), so I wanted her to be a good monarch who managed to do the best for her people and, in truth, the best for Spain at that moment was to give up while they were ahead and consolidate what was possible to keep. The ambitions of the Philips were a disaster for the future of the country.

Giving that Spain does not collapse into catastrophic civl war, I assume Isabella was able to have children with Mathias.

Yes, I was picturing them having at least two healthy sons, just so they could sort the Empire-Spain mess handily without getting too much into a Charles V's Empire situation, which would just make everyone in Europe freak out and ruin the peace Isabella worked so hard for.


I'm glad people enjoyed the TL, it was an idea I had to write down and put up here, and I think it worked well enough. Perhaps I will revisit this world in other ways afterwards (I have some ideas about the future of Portuguese Asia, for one), especially because I think the setting just puts forward a lot of cool ideas. I might also work on some family trees.