Chapter 27
The One Good Harvest
“You are endowed with every virtue, except for this one – you find it difficult to forgive insults.”
- Jean Glapion, imperial confessor, to Charles V, 1522
“Acheronta movebo.”
(“I will set Hell in motion”)
- Juno in the Aenid, as quoted by Etienne Dolet, 1539
Scion of the Scorpion: Richard IV and the Peace of Berwick
To Richard de la Pole, the news of the flight of the Tudor dynasty was a mixed bag. Without a pretender to rally to, the remnants of Henry VIII’s army quickly surrendered, paving the way for the White Rose’s victorious march on the capital. On the 17th of November 1524, the battle-torn Yorkist standards passed under the city gates of London. For most of the better part of England, however, Richard IV’s reign would remain very much up for debate. Even though the Bloody Assizes of George Hastings had drastically tarred the reputation of the Tudors, many still regarded them as the sole legal dynasty for the throne of England. The White Rose, conversely, was widely recognised as an usurper and the “
Scion of the Scorpion” - the heir of the hated Richard III, slain at Bosworth by Henry VII.
Furthermore, it was painfully obvious that Richard de la Pole owed his crown to the aid of foreigners. While his Welsh and Irish auxiliaries had played a crucial part, it was the fact that his van at Oxford had consisted of French and Breton mercenaries that so deeply offended the martial pride of the English aristocracy. Indeed, not for nothing was Richard’s victory often referred to as “
Patay-on-Thames” amongst grumbling Tudor partisans.
Following a modest coronation at Westminster Abbey on Christmas Day 1524, the White Rose’s popularity continued to plummet as news spread of the peace talks undergoing with the Scots and French. Somehow, the stipulations of Richard’s secret treaty with Francois were brought into general circulation, including the new king’s scandalous promise of the surrender of Calais. Even though the parliament summoned by Richard largely did his bidding docilely, its members dug in their heels at the prospect of handing over the last English foothold on the continent. Caught between a rock and a hard place, Richard could not publicly disavow the treaty without alienating his French patron and instead chose to trod a middle path where he simply claimed Calais from the Tudor exilarchate established in the Pale. Unsurprisingly, this satisfied neither Francis I nor Richard IV’s domestic detractors.
When a peace settlement was finally reached with the Duke of Albany during the Spring of 1525, the Yorkists managed to limit England’s territorial losses to the secession of the English East March, drawing the border along the River Aln and returning Berwick-upon-Tweed to Scottish suzerainty after a period of 43 years under English rule. Furthermore, the Lord Protector secured the so-called “Great Indemnity” as a “...
compensation for the recent harrowing this poor realme has suffered at the cruel hands of the English.” Evidently, the plunder already carried out of Northumberland by Albany’s Gallowglasses had not been enough to satiate the Scots. In effect the royal taxes, dues and customs collected from the shires of Cumberland and Northumberland and the Palatinate of Durham were to be paid to Edinburgh for a period of no less than fifteen years. Until then, the city of Carlisle and a number of important border fortresses would be forced to host Scottish garrisons.
The loss of Berwick, the acquiescence to a systematic plunder of the North and the many favours and privileges heaped upon the White Rose’s Welsh and Irish supporters led to a fresh round of unrest. Both Rhys ap Gruffydd and Gerald FitzGerald would have their local rights restored and even enhanced. Indeed, it is often said that 1525 marked the beginning of a cultural renaissance in both Wales and Royal Ireland, drawing the peripheries of the English realm even further from the centre. In England proper, the commoners of Cornwall, Suffolk and Norfolk had risen with gusto against the Amicable Grant, but the fresh round of extra taxes imposed by Richard IV’s parliament sobered them greatly. Especially the rural North would remain a hotbed of dissent for years to come.
In an attempt to further bind the northern gentry to his cause, Richard steered away from a French marriage, even though many contemporaries had expected it as a formality. The White Rose had been 44 when he won his crown at Oxford and remained a bachelor. Were his line to maintain its grip on the English throne, he needed an heir sooner rather than later. A foreign match would undoubtedly have granted Richard a veneer of international recognition, something he already possessed thanks to his warm relations with Francis and the troop of Valois vassals on the continent. There was talk of a marriage between the White Rose and Dorothea of Holstein (eldest daughter of the late pretender to the Danish throne, Frederick I, who lived a quiet life of exile in Paris)
[1] and with an assortment of French princesses, but what Richard IV needed most of all was domestic stability. As such, his choice fell upon Margaret Percy, the 25 year old daughter of the Earl of Northumberland. With the Percys tied to the Yorkist cause a degree of stability returned to Northern England, albeit one interrupted by intermittent peasant uprisings in 1525 and 1526.
Another attempted step towards internal stabilisation was the elevation of Henry Pole, Baron Montagu, as Richard’s de facto heir until Queen Margaret had borne him a son. It speaks volumes of the White Rose’s isolated position within England’s aristocracy that he had to elevate (at least tacitly) a person such as Montagu to the heirdom of England, as the potential heir arguably had a better claim on the throne than himself. The codification of the line of succession was a political necessity and in the short term it united the great northern houses behind Richard. However, in the long run it would lead to renewed and disastrous jockeying for power between the Poles and Percys.
Efforts were also made at turning long-time Tudor stalwarts, such as the captured Charles Brandon and the exiled Thomas Howard, to the Yorkist cause. However, the former was adamant in his allegiance to Princess Mary (and thus remained imprisoned within the bowels of the Tower) whilst the latter was a skilled political operator who wanted concrete assurances before even considering switching sides. Thus, Yorkist England remained a brittle polity beset by enemies foreign and domestic. A state that was further exacerbated by the continued presence of a potent Tudor remnant in the Pale of Calais.
Her Majesty’s Heavy Warship Peter Pomegranate, from a 16th century manuscript. With the majority of the Tudor Navy Royal in their hands, the regency of Cardinal Wolsey, Thomas Howard and Catherine of Aragon were poised to make life as hard as possible for the Yorkist regime in England. More often than not, their strained coffers were lined with the spoils of piracy against French as well as English trade ships.
The Queen Across the Water: Catherine of Aragon, the Tudor Exilarchate and the War in the Low Countries
Political woes and peasant insurrections in England were galvanised further by the defection of a major part of the Navy Royal. When Cardinal Wolsey and Queen Catherine docked at Calais, they brought with them 10 large war ships including the
Henry Grace à Dieu, the
Mary Rose and
Gabriel Royal
[2]. Over the coming months a steady stream of ships would arrive either at the Pale or in the Flemish port cities, as captains along the English coast defected to the Tudors. In total, of all the major vessels of the Navy Royal only the galleas
Great Galley remained in Richard’s hands - and only then because government agents managed to arrest its captain at Portsmouth. This completely crippled the new regime’s power projection and made the conquest of Calais entirely dependent on French resolve - a development which might explain Richard IV’s unwillingness to comply with the secret treaty of 1524.
Economic woes soon followed as Emperor Charles moved to his cousin’s aid. In early 1525, the imperial government in Mechelen proclaimed all trade with England proscribed. On many levels, this was in fact far more disastrous than the loss of the navy. The Netherlandish cities, and Antwerp in particular, were the main artery by which all English foreign trade flowed. Moreover, the Dutch market was England’s single-most important trade outlet and the major destination for its all important export of woollen cloth. As such, the embargo was an incredibly damaging blow to Richard’s already tattered finances. Not only did the cloth industry employ a large number of English men and women as weavers, spinners and other related trades, but the customs and dues related to it constituted a major source of income for the crown. Charles’ proclamation that any import had to “...
enter into our domains in the Low Countries through true and faithful English ports belonging to our cousin, Queen Mary...” meant that Calais became the centre of a growing trade in woollen cloth, illicitly exported without the knowledge of an outnumbered and demoralised Yorkist administration.
Conversely, this income greatly aided the Tudor exiles who complemented their revenues with piracy up and down the English Channel. The mothballed French navy stood little chance at averting this threat, which culminated in April 1525 when a squadron headed by the sister carracks
Mary Rose and
Peter Pomegranate sailed up the Thames and bombarded London itself. Combined with a lull in hostilities in Italy, these events led to the main theatre of the War of the League of Windsor being shifted to the borderlands between Northern France and the Low Countries.
For his part, Francis I had been pleasantly surprised by his protege’s rapid success. With England knocked out of the war, the French now sought to conclude the war by striking at the Tudor loyalists at Calais thus achieving the twin goals of kicking the English off the continent and opening a line of invasion into the Habsburg Netherlands. Consequently, Francis began gathering an army at Amiens consisting of veterans from his Italian campaigns and fresh household troops from Champagne and Normandy.
Until now, the eastern parts of the Netherlands had been engulfed in a simmering feud between the Habsburg government and the Duke of Guelders which vacillated between cattle raids and pitched battles. Charles’ regent, Margaret of Austria, bitterly complained of the Estates’ unwillingness to contribute funds for the campaign. Indeed, one contemporary Netherlandish chronicler lamented the cavalier attitude of his countrymen by quipping:
“
But though you have such power on land and sea, it is to be regretted,
That Guelders alone diminishes your praise,
For does it not seem that, by the great sluggishness of the Senate,
All your ancient glory has ebbed away?[3]
”
The prospect of a French invasion changed the situation completely. Fearful that the Valois monarchy would ride roughshod over their liberties and link arms with the Duke of Guelders, the Estates convocated in Brussels in May 1525 and agreed to a massive government
bede, with Holland alone contributing more than 460.000 pounds of 40 groats.
[4] The funds were immediately put into good use with 10.000 Flemings mustering under patrician captains near Ghent and a general order of mobilisation being issued across the provinces.
[5] The small standing army of the
bandes d'ordonnance mobilised enthusiastically under the captain-generalship of Charles V’s confidante Count Henry III of Nassau. Indeed, Queen-Regent Catherine of Aragon is said to have remarked that the nobles of the Netherlands were preparing for war with “...
as much joy as if they were going to a wedding.”
[6]
Count Henry was soon joined by the talented commander Jan II van Wassenaar, the scion of one of Holland's oldest families, who had returned from subduing Egmont’s allies in the province of Friesland.
[7] Before crossing back into Habsburg territory, Wassenaar had decisively beaten the Gueldrian forces near Deventer, effectively preventing the duke from participating in the coming struggle. Further reinforcements also began tickling in. Since the defeat at Sciaborasca Georg von Frundsberg had been busy raising fresh fähnleins in the Empire and arrived by late July with an army of some 6000 Landsknechts paid for and organised by the Emperor’s brother Ferdinand. Last but not least, Christian II of Denmark, Norway and Sweden had dispatched a strong squadron of warships led by Tile Giseler in order to show his dissatisfaction with the deposal of his wife’s aunt from the English throne. Undoubtedly, Christian also wanted to dissuade the victorious Albany from any incursions towards the Orkney and Shetland Isles. Still, whatever his motive, Margaret of Austria was deeply thankful for the gesture, noting in her diary that “...
the Emperor’s brother, the King of the Northern Lands, has sent us a stout fleet with skilled mariners and a strong muster of soldiers of war.”
Portraits of Henry III, Count of Nassau-Breda by Jan Gossaert,
ca. 1517 and Jan II van Wassenaer, Viscount of Leiden by Jan Mostaert,
1523. The Count of Nassau and the Viscount of Leiden were two of the most seasoned soldiers of the Netherlands during the first half of the 16th century. With the prospect of a French invasion looming over the Low Countries, it would fall to the pair of them to lead a large allied army in defence of the Habsburg’s most profitable domains.
Moreover, the arrival of the Oldenburg fleet underpinned the allies’ shattering naval superiority. This in turn enabled them to quickly concentrate troops along the Channel and forced the French to repeatedly scatter their gathering troops along the coast. Furthermore, a small joint Dano-Tudor fleet set sails for Spain hoping to bring the emperor back with them. The timing, however, was not favourable. Charles had spent the past three years ruthlessly pacifying his Spanish domains in the wake of the failed uprising of the Comuneros and was not yet done.
[8] There was also the question of marriage. Without an exchequer to pay her dowry, the diminutive Mary Tudor appeared a less than desirable match. Conversely, the dowry of some 900,000 Portuguese cruzados which Isabella of Portugal brought with her was an altogether more enticing prospect. However, Papal dispensation was required and Clement VII had by then drifted completely into the Valois orbit following the failure of establishing an Italian league with Florence and Siena.
[9] In lieu of a Portuguese financial windfall, Charles instead had to rely on the increasingly impressive amount of wealth flowing in from the colonies.
By March 1524 the Venetian ambassador reported that 60.000 pieces of gold, each worth a ducat and a half, arrived from the conquest of the Americas followed in early 1525 by another 20.000 gold pieces.
[10] Furthermore, the emperor’s chief minister, Mercurino di Gattinara, successfully convinced Charles to allow some of the most recalcitrant Comuneros to “...
buy their way out of the garotte.” Nevertheless, a contingent of Spanish knights and men-at-arms asked the emperor’s leave to join the fighting in Flanders with a company of Tercios. To this, Charles happily gave his consent, stating (as reported by the English ambassador, who had remained loyal to the Tudors) that “...
the Frenche exaltacion is not to any cristen prince beneficial, because of their excessive ambicion and insaciable wil'' and that the king of France aspired to be “...
the monarche of Christendom”
[11]. Given the fact that Charles himself lived and breathed the ideology of the universal prince of Christendom, one might take this imperial indignation with a grain of salt. Additionally, some funds were also sent across the Mediterranean to help raise a second imperial army in Naples under the Marquis of Pescara and the Duke of Bourbon. Both commanders were, however, instructed to only strike once news of a victory in the North had been reported.
By Autumn 1525, Francis felt strong enough to begin his invasion. On the 12th of September, the French struck their tents outside Amiens and began to advance up through Picardy. In total, the Valois host accounted for some 25.000 troops led by Anne de Montmorency who had so timely saved the king at Sciarborasca. Against them stood the Count of Nassau’s imperial army of 15.000 Netherlanders of some experience, 6000 Landsknechte, 2000 Spaniards and perhaps a 1000 mercenaries and retainers under Nordic captains. The Tudor garrison at Calais numbered some 3000 front line troops, but remained ensconced behind the city’s walls. On the 20th of September, the French vanguard appeared outside Calais. Two days later, the city was fully invested, although fresh supplies and reinforcements continued to be ferried into the Pale by the Tudor-Oldenburg navy.
Map of Europe in 1526 during the later stages of the War of the League of Windsor.
French success in Italy had led to the annexation of the Marquisate of Saluzzo as well as the Duchies of Savoy and Milan. While the Republic of Genoa and the Marquisate of Montferrat retained a certain degree of independence, they had essentially been reduced to Valois satrapies.
The Count of Nassau-Breda in turn moved to the Exilarchate’s relief. As the allied army marched through Flanders, Montmorency decided to leave only a token force behind to maintain the siege lines while he himself drew the better part of the army east to face the oncoming imperial advance. The two armies met near the town of Gravelines, some 20 km east of Calais. Battle was joined on the 27th of September and the allied army initially buckled under a concerted onslaught by the French veterans. However, the Spanish Tercios acquitted themselves with great valour and threw back the Burgundian contingent in the centre. Throughout the fighting, the Tudor and Oldenburg vessels in the Channel continued to bombard the Valois reserves, shattering their cohesion and preventing Montmorency from deploying them in good order. The allies maintained their defensive position, enjoying the support which the naval bombardment afforded them. Indeed, afterwards Giseler wrote Christian II that “...
the greatest pleasure they could give us was to come and plant a kiss on our defences because, God willing, it would cost them dear.”
[12]
There was, however, a deeper meaning to Nassau’s defensive deployment. He had been using his naval superiority to secretly concentrate a substantial detachment within the confines of Calais. As soon as the two sides locked pikes at Gravelines, some 4000, mostly mounted, troops stormed through the gates of Calais and completely overran the ill-prepared French camp. Few of the besiegers survived the attack and none managed to escape east towards Montmorency’s lines. By late afternoon, Nassau committed his reserves under van Wassenaar in a ferocious attack on the French right flank, which buckled and collapsed under the impact.
Montmorency’s attempt at stabilising his battle line failed and when the Valois commander instead sought to retreat towards what he thought was the safety of his siege lines outside Calais, his men rain headlong into the sortiered Tudor garrison under Thomas Howard. Caught between the hammer and the anvil, the French resolve collapsed. Almost the entire invasion force had been eviscerated thanks to de Nassau-Breda's genius use of combined arms and the iron resolve of his field commanders. 10.000 men were dead or wounded with an equal number captured, including Anne de Montmorency himself. As the Duke of Norfolk sardonically remarked to Count Henry, he thought that “...
the Frenche king’s high herte begynnyth somwhat to com lower.”
[13]
The road to Paris was now more or less open for the allies, but the Netherlanders were reluctant at first to pursue their advantage. Indeed, many of the patrician commanders wanted to return home, the threat of a French invasion now removed. However, Frundsberg and Nassau convinced their ambivalent troops that the scarcely untouched lands of Picardy and Normandy offered plunder ripe for the taking. Consequently, by late October cities such as Boulogne, Hesdin and Amiens had been taken by the imperials. As the weather began to worsen, Henry III of Nassau crowned his impressive campaign with the wreaths of Clermont, as he seized the city by November. Hereupon he moved his men into winter quarters. When Charles V heard of the victory at Gravelines, he was deeply relieved and spent the better part of half an hour alone kneeling in front of an image of the Madonna that he kept at the head of his bed.
[14] As personally vindictive as the emperor might have been, he understood that Gravelines offered a heaven-sent respite from an otherwise disastrous war. Indeed, news of Montmorency’s defeat was accompanied by a warning from Nassau, imploring his liege to remember “...
that God gives each man one good harvest in their lifetime, and that if they fail to bring it home there is a risk they will never see another one.”
[15] With 1525 drawing to a close, Charles increasingly came to favour at least a temporary settlement with Francis after four years of constant warfare: A turn in priorities galvanised by events unfolding in the Empire itself and on the eastern peripheries of the Habsburg alliance.
The Word of God Endures: The Diet of Speyer, Hungary and the Ottoman Menace
Within the Holy Roman Empire, the Lutheran heresy had run rampant amongst the populace for years. The horrors of the German Peasants’ War culminated in the middle of 1525 as radical reformers and Anabaptists were forcefully culled by the princes of the empire. Luther himself had come down hard in favour of his princely backers and sharply admonished the peasants for their lack of obedience towards their magisterial betters.
1525 also marked the year where the Reformation transitioned from a solely popular movement to tangible political phenomenon. On the 10th of april 1525, the Grand Master of the Teutonic Order, Albrecht of Brandenburg-Ansbach secularised his order’s territory in Prussia, declared his adherence to the Evangelical confession and placed himself under the protection of Sigismund of Poland as the latter’s vassal. Partially in response to the secularisation of the Order, the princes of Albertine Saxony, Brandenburg and Brunswick-Kassel joined together in the League of Dessau in order to defend the Catholic confession from attacks by Lutheran partisans. The flood-gates, however, had been opened wide. Evangelical influence amongst the princes began to grow and by early 1526 Philip of Hesse and Elector Johann of Ernestine Saxony both imposed a magisterial reformation on their domains, being followed by the lesser polities of Lüneburg, Brandenburg‐Ansbach, and Anhalt. Together with Albrecht of Prussia, they in turn announced the formation of a rival League of Torgau. Although technically not conceived as a counterweight to the Dessau League (being instead formulated as a defensive pact against further popular uprisings and imperial enforcement of the Edict of Worms), the formation of the Torgau League signalled a hardening of the cleavages running through the empire. Indeed, when Philip of Hesse and Johann of Saxony arrived at the Diet of Speyer, their followers wore matching uniforms and armbands inscribed with the battle cry “
God’s Word endures in eternity.”
[16]
Held in the Summer of 1526 the Diet of Speyer had been called by Arch Duke Ferdinand of Austria on his brother the emperor’s request. Ferdinand had proven himself a talented administrator of the Habsburg hereditary lands and was growing increasingly concerned at the anarchy spreading through neighbouring Hungary. Since 1490 the Lands of St. Stephen had seen a near total collapse of royal authority and a corresponding rise in influence for the native magnates beginning with the election of Vladislav II Jagiello of Bohemia as king of Hungary, who promised the nobility to rule as a king whose “…
braids they could hold in their hands.”
[17] A large and well organised peasant rebellion in 1514 had been ruthlessly suppressed by the magnates, weakening the internal cohesion of the kingdom even further. Financial destitution was an ever present problem- the royal treasury being perpetually on the verge of outright bankruptcy. Calamity upon calamity thus seemed to befell the Hungarian nation. By 1521 the Ottomans had seized Belgrade and turned the city into a staging point for a series of gruesome incursions into the Pannonian Basin.
Mary of Hungary by Hans Krell
, 1524. A consummate politician, Queen Mary was largely responsible for reversing the steady decline of royal authority during the first decades of the Jagiellon dynasty. She was not averse to the ideas of the Reformation, which many Hungarian magnates used to discredit her programme of government reform.
Vladislav’s lacklustre son Louis II lacked the skill to resurrect the crown’s authority and increasingly relied on the power of a small circle of predominantly German advisors, who sought closer ties with the Habsburgs to counter their adversaries in the “National” or Magyar Party headed by the Palatinate of Hungary, István Werbőczy and the Voivode of Transylvania, John Zápolya.
[18] Still, even within the nobility, unity was a rare beast. The lesser aristocracy resented the baronial monopoly on power and wealth and continued to call for a restoration of their ancient liberties.
Internationally speaking, the situation wasn’t much better. Within the empire, the persecution of the German burghers was well-known and the decision of the diet of 1523 that supporters of Luther were to lose both land and life alienated the Evangelical princes even further. Only the Papacy delivered some kind of consistent support to the ailing Hungarian state. Even then the papal nuncio Antonio de Burgio didn’t trust the Estates with his master’s subsidies and instead dispensed them directly to the martial Archbishop of Kalocsa, Paul Tomori. In 1524 and 1525 civil war almost broke out when the lesser nobility accused the royal chancellor Ladislaus Szalkai (reviled as a “son of a shoemaker”) of high treason and demanded that the Germans be expelled and their wealth seized.
[19]
By 1525 things, however, had begun to change. Ever since her arrival from Bohemia in 1523, Queen Mary had been working diligently at restoring the crown’s prestige and power while Louis II spent his time hunting with his gentlemen. Having inherited the Habsburg chin, Mary might not have been regarded as a beauty by contemporaries, but she proved a gifted politician who deftly exploited the many factorial divides within the upper echelons of Hungarian society. At the conciliatory diet of Hatvan in 1524 she brought a substantial amount of popular nobles over to the royal side. By November 1525 she presided over the formation of a royal league at Kecskemét which articulated a programme of reform decisively strengthening the finances and political reach of the crown. In April 1526 Mary struck against the councilar magnates. Werbőczy and a number of his adherents were convicted of high treason and stripped of their lands and titles. Legislative proceedings were then put in place to reinforce royal authority. For, as Mary proclaimed to the assembled dignitaries, “...
if Hungary were well governed she would be the most powerful and valiant rival of the Turk.”
[20]
Unfortunately, the Turkish menace had already begun to stir. Having been momentarily distracted by a large Mamluk rebellion in Egypt and Syria, the Ottoman sultan Suleiman I decided to make good on his ambition to sever Hungary from the Habsburg sphere of influence.
[21] At the head of an 80.000 man strong army, the sultan left Constantinople on the very day Mary succeeded in re-establishing some degree of monarchical power.
Meanwhile, the Imperial Estates had begun negotiations in Speyer. Ferdinand kept a conciliatory tone with the Evangelicals, acknowledging that the situation in Germany was veering towards disaster and that a reform was needed sooner rather than later. Consequently, a committee of princes (including bishops and lesser clergymen) sat down to draw up a list of measures on which the assembly could agree. Proposals included the prospect of clerical marriage, the communion for the laity under the species of wine and bread, readings in German from the Gospels during Mass as well as a German translation of the Bible.
[22] While the archduke could not consent to the immediate implementation of these measures, as he deemed only the emperor or pope to have such authority, he electrified the diet by stating that Charles had written him, promising to either come to Germany in person in order to settle the matter or else to force the recalcitrant Clement VII to summon a general council that would address the question of reform.
[23]
Even more astonishingly, Ferdinand let slip during a private dinner with Philip of Hesse and John of Saxony that Charles V was intent on chastising the pope. Indeed, according to the archduke, the emperor was preparing to “...
go to Italy, and there I will have a better opportunity to get what is mine and to revenge myself on those who have opposed me – especially on that villain the pope. Perhaps at some point it will turn out that Martin Luther is the one doing the right thing.”
[24]
Even though no concrete agreement was reached at Speyer, the spirit of the delegates was raised considerably by the promise of comprehensive reform. In the meantime, the Edict of Worms was effectively suspended and the princes tasked with regulating religious matters as the laws of the empire and the Word of God prescribed. As the diet moved towards its natural conclusion, however, news arrived that Ottoman forces had reached the river Sava. The Ottoman deluge was about to descend on the frontiers of Christendom.
Author’s Note: Ending on a cliffhanger this time around! I originally wanted to conclude the War of the League of Windsor in this chapter, but as the story grew in scope I realised that it would simply become too long-winded. I hope you enjoy this very belated update and look forward to hearing your thoughts.
[1] This was also proposed in OTL.
[2] On his accession, Henry VIII’s navy consisted of just six warships, whereof only two displaced more than 200 tons (The Regent 1,000 tons and Sovereign - 800 tons). To these Henry VIII added 13 larger vessels up until 1517 (which survived till 1525). The largest being Henri Grace à Dieu (1000 tons), Gabriel Royal (700 tons), Katherine Fortune (550 tons), the Mary Rose (500 tons) and Great Galley (500 tons). Furthermore, by 1525 Henry VIII also commanded 11 warships of a tonnage less than 200 (two of which dated back to his father’s reign, namely the galleasses Mary Fortune and Sweepstake). Thus, the total strength of the Tudor navy pre Battle of Oxford ITTL would probably have been around 26 warships, when adjusted for losses not suffered as in OTL. See: Tudor Warships: Henry VIII's Navy by Angus Konstam & Tony Bryan
[3] From "
Ad Suam Bataviam" by Cornelis Aurelius, 1586. The indifference felt towards the threat from Guelders was not limited to the inter-provincial level. The western cities of Brabant thought that the war with Charles of Egmont only concerned those in the East, such as s-Hertogenbosch and Antwerp.
[4] The bede was a subsidy granted by the Estates of the early modern Netherlands, usually either as the ordinaris beden, which was granted for a fixed term of years, or as the extraordinaris beden which were sought by the government for special needs. The number of 460.000 was the amount granted in OTL in 1528 for the war against the Duke of Guelders. 40 groats roughly corresponded to the value of one guelder.
[5] This also happened in OTL in 1521.
[6] This is what the English ambassadors in the Netherlands of 1521 relayed back to London in OTL.
[7] Jan van Wassenaer died in OTL after suffering a musket wound to the arm during the siege of Sloten in 1523. ITTL he survives and is thus able to partake in the fighting on the French border.
[8] The vindictiveness of Charles V vis-a-vis the Comuneros is quite astonishing. Between 1524 and 1528 one Valencian chronicler estimated that 12.000 people were killed and that damages of 2 million ducats were incurred by the emperor’s German praetorian guard. Others were gruesomely tortured. Charles even kept on nagging the King of Portugal to surrender exiled Comuneros up until the point where the last of them died of old age.
[9] See Chapter 24
[10] This is OTL.
[11] Quote from Henry VIII’s ambassador to Maximillian, Robert Wingfield, 1515.
[12] Slightly rewritten quote by Charles V during his campaigns in Germany during the 1540s.
[13] Reported by OTL English diplomats in Spain during the negotiations between the imprisoned Francis and Charles V after the former’s catastrophic defeat at Pavia.
[14] As he did in OTL after learning of the victory at Pavia.
[15] This was the OTL warning forwarded to Charles by his commander at Pavia, Charles de Lennoy. Given that the Count of Nassau was also an old friend of the emperor, I think it likely that he would feel comfortable giving a similar admonishment.
[16] This happened in OTL as well.
[17] Also an OTL quote.
[18] In many ways, the political ideology of the Hungarian magnates (the so-called Scythian Liberties) mirrored that of the council-constitutionalists of Scandinavia. Interestingly enough, one of the few sources to address constitutional politics in early 16th-century Denmark made a direct comparison between the electoral systems of the Danish and Hungarian realms.
[19] This, like all of the events in Hungary, is OTL.
[20] An OTL quote by Antonio de Burgio from 1525.
[21] While some older scholarship used to attribute the Mohács Campaign to French diplomacy following Pavia, this view has since been largely discredited. The Ottoman attack had been prepared well in advance of the events at Pavia and rather centred on tangible
realpolitikal goals. The foremost of these were the creation of a neutral Hungary between Constantinople and Charles V’s imperial domains. As such, Suleiman did not invade to conquer Hungary, but rather to address the dangers of the Habsburg-Jagiellon treaty of inheritance.
[22] All of these proposals were also made at the OTL Diet of Speyer.
[23] In OTL, Charles refused the diet’s proposals on similar grounds, but ITTL he is in a far less stellar position than in our time, despite the victory at Gravelines. As such, the emperor is far more disposed to reach an accommodation with the Evangelicals. Furthermore, Clement VII’s scheming with the Italian statelets to wrestle Naples away from the Habsburgs and his subsequent alliance with Francis has turned him even further from the papacy.
[24] This is, surprisingly, an OTL quote by Charles V from February 1525, shortly after he learned of the pope and Venetians’ alliance with France.