Infante Luis and Ferdinand marrying/having living heirs would help greatly.
Anno Obumbratio: A 16th Century Alternate History
- Thread starter DrakeRlugia
- Start date
I hate the Aviz, its different
Which is to be expected when my signature TL is about their OTL selves not existing
Other people are generally neutral or think they're a good way to unify Spain under Portugal
My nightmare
I wouldn't go that far. I won't dig into it, but all I'll say is that João's son will succeed him as King of Portugal. For another generation at least, the King of Spain and King of Portugal will be different people. The House of Aviz will certainly need to branch out further in search of future brides, however, but at least with England remaining Catholic they have a few more options.
Absolutely true, Gonzaga. I think the major issue is that the further you get down the pecking order, the less attractive these Infantes look as marriage partners: at least abroad. Of the five surviving sons, only two entered the clergy. Two of them wed (perhaps three, if you count Luis' mistress and their dubious marriage) but there were no male heirs and in the case of the Duke of Guarda, no heirs at all. Guimares is the only one who had surviving issue, but the bad luck of not having a son.
According to who you ask, Luis did marry... at least, the Prior of Crato claimed so. Fernando married as well, a Portuguese noble lady. They had a daughter that died quite young, and another child who died as an infant. Bad luck, essentially.
Guimarães had a son, called Duarte after him, but that son died unmarried at 35 years old (he was not in favour with Sebastian and that is likely cause of his unmarried status)
Yes, definitely bad luck as both Fernando and Duarte had children but only Duarte had grandchildren and none from the male line. Still a son of Fernando or Duarte would not inherit the Portuguese crown ahead of a Spanish grandchild of Joao
Can I ask for the family trees of the 16th-century royal family? Thank you for updating this TL.
I'm just curious about the genealogy of the royal families, and I want to praise you for the "Perfume King" TL. It was full of surprising things about what may happen to France when Philippe d'Orleans became king.
I'm just curious about the genealogy of the royal families, and I want to praise you for the "Perfume King" TL. It was full of surprising things about what may happen to France when Philippe d'Orleans became king.
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There are some family trees in one of the Threadmark Addendums. I haven't updated them any further as they're sort of a work in progress... I will post some updated ones here soon once I get through some further chapters. I do the family trees ahead of the writing, so there are some spoiler-y things that I don't wanna reveal just yet.
Also, thank you so much! It's definitely a side project of mine, but I hope to be updating it at some point.
Chapter 33. Sovereign of Spice
I was going to take us up north first, but @King of Danes mention of Portugal gave me a little itch that I just had to write out first.
Chapter 33. Sovereign of Spice
1535-1544; Portugal.
“Arms and the heroes, who from Lisbon's shore,
Through seas where sail was never spread before,
Beyond where Ceylon lifts her spicy breast,
And waves her woods above the watery waste,
With prowess more than human forced their way
To the fair kingdoms of the rising day:
What wars they waged, what seas, what dangers past,
What glorious empire crowned their toils at last.”
— Os Lusídas, Luis de Camões.
Musical Accompaniment: Perdi a Esperança
João III of Portugal, painted by Cristóvão Lopes, c. 1552.
Spain’s neighbor, Portugal, had passed through the first thirty years of the sixteenth century relatively unscathed. While Habsburg and Valois warred over the spoils of Italy, the grocer kings of Portugal instead focused on building their burgeoning mercantile empire. Under King Manuel, Portuguese explorers sailed across the ocean seas—Vasco de Gama had discovered a route to India in 1498. By the time Manuel had passed in 1521, Portuguese forts and factories dotted the coast of Africa, and Portuguese merchants had seized important ports throughout the east—Socotra, Goa, Malacca, and Hormuz. Under João III, Portuguese explorers, and navigators would continue to spread their influence even further into the Orient—seeking both rewards and riches for their success. Great wealth poured from the East Indies into Portugal through the Casa de India. The Portuguese crown received one million cruzados through the East Indies trade in 1510, and by 1518, the Casa de India provided the crown with almost forty percent of its revenues. The crown received spices imported through the Casa de India and routinely sent them to the Portuguese Feitoria in Antwerp, where they would mark up and upsell the spices for massive profit throughout the Low Countries and Northern Europe. Portuguese trade would continue to play a vital role throughout the reign of João III—and his close connections with the Habsburgs in both Burgundy and Spain would continue to aid the Portuguese in their commercial endeavors.
In 1518, João III married Eleanor, the sister of Charles V. Eleanor had previously been the Queen of France and had been married to Louis XII for a short period before his death. Eleanor was content in her second marriage, and João III proved to be a devoted husband. "From the day he laid eyes upon her, the king showed utter devotion to the queen," one Portuguese noblewoman wrote in her private diaries. "They spent the earliest years of their marriage enjoying pleasurable pastimes such as hunting, feasting, and attending balls at Alcáçova...” The wealth of the Portuguese crown from its overseas pursuits allowed João III to reign as he pleased. He summoned the Cortes only rarely—in 1525, it was agreed that the Cortes would meet every ten years. In 1535, their sole function was to recognize the Infante Carlos Manuel as Crown Prince and future successor to the throne. João III dedicated the earliest years of his reign to reforming the administration and justice system within the kingdom. In terms of foreign policy, João was closely connected to the House of Habsburg by marriage: his wife was the sister of Emperor Charles V and Ferdinand, the Prince of Asturias, and recognized the heir to Spain. João’s younger sister, Isabella, had been wed to Ferdinand as well—further binding ties between the Houses of Aviz and Habsburg. Despite João’s close ties to the Habsburgs, foreign policy was not overtly in favor of them. He strove to maintain neutrality in the conflicts between the great kingdoms of Europe. His youngest sister, Beatriz, had been wed to King François of France—giving Portugal a vital connection to France. Portugal also continued to maintain warm relations with England through trade and their ancestral alliance, which had been ratified in 1386.
The great wealth from the Orient allowed João to continue the magnificent building campaigns that had been started by his father. Aside from ordering an expansion of Ribeira Palace, he also ordered renovations carried out on the old royal residence at Alcáçova following an earthquake in 1531 that had caused great damage to the structure. Portuguese court life had greatly improved in the sixteenth century thanks to the increased revenues available to the monarchy—and this included an expansion of the royal household, from the higher offices down to the minor chamberlains. João’s reign saw the evolution of the court into a true cultural institution, and positions at court began to confer both social and cultural cachet that they did not in previous periods. “The King of Portugal hosts the most sumptuous table in Europe,” Antonio Battista delle Piane, a Genoese diplomat stationed in Lisbon wrote in a letter home to his brother. “The feasts have upwards to twenty dishes, flavored with the tastes of the Orient: cod in a sauce of black pepper and cloves, stewed vegetables, and marzipan rich with sugar, honey, and cinnamon…when we do not feast, we play; dances, masques, and hunting, each day a whirl.” In these jubilant ceremonies, João showed off the majesty and prestige of his crown—as magnificent as the court of Spain, and a genuine rival to English and French gaiety.
Eleanor of Austria, Queen of Portugal.
As a parent, João III was present, but not necessarily the most attentive. He lavished attention upon his eldest daughter, Maria—whom he dubbed his querida rosa, a term he would use for her even long after she grew into adulthood. The king’s relationship with his eldest son, Carlos Manuel, proved more fraught. “Crown Prince Carlos viewed his father in awe,” one Portuguese courtier would write decades later in his journal. “He was never at ease about the king and was often taciturn. This piqued the king. To put it simply: the Infante Carlos simply never measured up to his older sister. He failed in all measures when compared to the Infanta Maria…” Despite this, Carlos’ relationship with his mother was much warmer—she provided him with the emotional support that he never received from his father and was favored in her eyes the same way that Maria was favored in her father’s eyes. Both João and Eleanor desired what was best for favored children: and did what they could to make those goals come to fruition. For Eleanor, this meant promoting the match supported by her sister-in-law, Isabella—a marriage between Carlos Manuel and Infanta Maria of Spain. For João however, it meant keeping his Maria as close as possible. “Of course, the Infanta Maria of Portugal was born in a difficult time,” one Portuguese historian would write nearly a century later. “Born in 1521, there was a dearth of princesses of her age and rank but a lack of princes. Ridiculed in some circles as the sempre noiva or always engaged, she was considered a potential consort for Prince Philip of Spain, Prince Maximilian of Austria, Louis IV of Naples, and even Christian II of Denmark following his restoration—but all offers were refused by João with the utmost courtesy.” In a household where the eldest children were each favored by one parent, this left the youngest child, Infanta Beatriz, to her own devices—primarily raised by her nannies, nurses, and later governesses.
In cultural issues, João III was steeped in the humanist traditions of the Renaissance. He sponsored poets, playwrights, and authors, such as Garcia de Resende and Fernão Mendes Pinto. Many writers supported by the king were granted pensions and often attained positions within the royal household. João’s support also extended into the sciences, and he provided scholarships that allowed Portuguese students and scholars to study abroad, such as at the University of Paris, where the Collège de Sainte-Barbe was headed by a Portuguese theologian, Diogo de Gouveia. In Portugal, João arranged for the University of Coimbra to move from Lisbon to Coimbra. A college of arts would be founded in 1542, which allowed João to entice Portuguese and European teachers from the Collège de Guienne in Bordeaux. In religious affairs, Portugal’s expansion abroad was governed through the doctrine of Padroado negotiated with the Holy See. Padroado gave the crown control over the appointment of sees and benefices in the areas discovered by Portugal—along with a portion of these ecclesiastical revenues. In return, the crown promised to send missionaries abroad to evangelize amongst the natives and to provide the necessary funds to endow new dioceses, parishes, and religious establishments in these new territories. João would be one of the first monarchs to patronize the Society of Jesus, better known as the Jesuits after Pope Pius V sanctioned the crown’s request for Jesuit missionaries to help propagate the Catholic faith in the East Indies. Francis Xavier, the founder of the Jesuits, would be appointed Apostolic Nuncio to the East, tasked with restoring Christianity amongst the Portuguese settlers.
Religious issues were of paramount concern to João III, who was incredibly devout. “Both the king and queen were intently religious—and their faith in God provided another bridge for their relationship. They attended mass daily, and both were renowned for their piety.” Both the king and queen had their confessors—João was served by the Dominican friar, Diogo da Silva, while Eleanor was served by a Spaniard who had accompanied her to Portugal—Tomás Betanzos. Silva played a vital role in encouraging João to continue the work of his father in bringing the Inquisition to Portugal, supported in this by the queen and Betanzos. Though attempts to bring the Inquisition into Portugal dated from 1515, none had succeeded. Though João enlisted the support of Charles V in getting the papacy to agree with his requests, the 1520s proved fraught with increased French influence in Italy. Only in 1531 did the Papacy agree to the installation of the Inquisition—but on terms considered odious by João. By 1532, João had sent his representative to Rome, Duarte da Paz—a Marrano who had fought for the crown in Morocco and had been distinguished in his service, even receiving the Order of Christ. When Da Paz arrived in Rome to treat with Pius V, he immediately turned cloak—advocating in favor of the Marranos. The colorful and eloquent Da Paz succeeded in winning over many Cardinals to his cause, as well as the Pope. Pius V issued a bull suspending the introduction of the Inquisition into Portugal, and soon issued a general pardon for those guilty of Judaism and the release of prisoners and convicts[1]. “While we believe that all must bask in Christ’s love,” a report that justified Pius V’s began. “The Inquisition is not the true doctrine of the conversion of infidels. The workings of the Inquisitorial courts are most terrible, and its officers are no ministers of Christ, but rather Satan—no better than thieves and mercenaries.”
Woodcut of the "Water Cure," one of the punishments used by the Inquisition.
The bull of pardon caused great turmoil, as the Portuguese Marranos were now immune to proceedings against them. “That man is a slippery snake,” João reportedly uttered regarding da Paz when he heard of his betrayals. Though Da Paz’s star had risen high—it was soon quick to fall when he was attacked in Rome by assassins. Stabbed fourteen times, he survived because of the armor he wore under his clothes and would be nursed back to health under the supervision of the pope’s doctors. Da Paz attempted to claim that the assassination had been ordered by Portugal, but João demurred from his charge—Da Paz’s position as protector of the Marrano’s soon crumbled when they accused him of embezzling 4000 ducats meant for the Pope. Leaving Rome, Da Paz was now covered in ignominy—when he reached Venice, he turned cloak once again, denouncing the Marranos to João III and writing to the Pope that he should confiscate their property for the church. He viciously slandered the new representative of the Marranos in Rome and would travel from Venice to Ferrara, where he would be imprisoned for a short time. Da Paz’s story ended shortly after his release from prison. He returned to Judaism and emigrated to Constantinople—where he allegedly embraced the Islamic faith. João would continue to press for a Portuguese Inquisition, which would finally be granted in 1542 by Pius V’s successor, Gelasius III—who would annul the bull of pardon issued by Pius V.
Infanta Maria of Spain and Infanta Beatriz of Portugal, circa 1543; AI Generated.
João and Eleanor’s children continued to grow. Of paramount concern was potential marriages—though João had little inclination to give up his eldest daughter, he was less concerned regarding his son and youngest daughter. João’s sister, Isabella, spearheaded a match between the Portuguese and Spanish Royal Houses—she suggested that Carlos Manuel should marry her eldest daughter, Maria—while João’s youngest daughter, Beatriz, should be wed to Fernando Alonso; Isabella’s eldest son and the future King of Spain. This match was highly championed by Eleanor, though proceedings were informal until Isabella died in 1543. Shortly thereafter, Ferdinand agreed that the marriages proposed by his late wife should be honored. The Treaty of Santa Cruz would be ratified four months following Isabella’s death—with it agreed that the marriages should proceed as soon as possible. At the time, Carlos Manuel’s intended bride was fourteen, while the Infanta Beatriz, intended for Fernando Alonso, was thirteen. The so-called Exchange of the Infantas occurred on the border between Portugal and Spain, near the hamlet of Fuentes de Oñoro. “Both the courts converged on the little hamlet for the changing over ceremony… a wooden building was built upon the border for both the infantas…” one courtier would write in their private journal regarding the ceremony. “They entered at the same time and emerged on the other side—leaving behind the former households and being embraced by their new one. Infanta Beatriz was small, her eyes filled with fear as she departed—despite her magnificent gown of black silk, her pearls, and jewels, she looked every inch a scared little girl… not the woman she now was. When she left us, we were soon joined by the Infanta Maria of Spain… the future crown princess. At fourteen she was pretty… slim figured and petite, her hair covered by a veil of black and white. She approached the king, and the queen offered up her obeisance with a low curtsey. Her first words to their majesties were in heavily accented Portuguese: “I come to you as a humble daughter and ask for your blessing.” Both gave their blessing readily—with Queen Eleanor ecstatic to have her niece so close.” As the Portuguese court now possessed two Infantas who went by the name of Maria, Maria of Spain would soon become known as Maria Isabel—incorporating her middle name and as reverence to her newly deceased mother.
Carlos Manuel would marry his Spanish bride in January 1544 at the Cathedral of Lisbon. The marriage was solemnized by the Archbishop of Lisbon—with a blessing offered by Carlos Manuel’s uncle, the Infante Henrique, Archbishop of Evora. Even at the wedding ceremony, Carlos Manuel found himself outshined by his formidable sister. “It was as if the Infanta was preparing for her wedding,” one of Maria’s ladies would write in a letter to her mother. “She dressed in a gown made of magnificent red silk and bedecked herself in her finest jewels—a necklace of silver with a large sapphire in the middle—attached to a miniature portrait of the king which hung about her bosom. Another chain of gold hung about her neck, combined with a pearl choker that had a clasp of great rubies and diamonds… all gifts from her father, the king. Rings adorned each of her fingers, and she wore a veil and translucent silk. When she deigned to enter the cathedral, minutes before the ceremony was to start, all the eyes were upon her… she behaved as if she was the bride, and everyone saw her as such. The Spanish Infanta could only watch her future sister-in-law with sad eyes—knowing she could never compare.” The wedding ceremony and festivities would pass onward without incident. Despite Maria’s drastic entrance, Carlos Manuel was able to settle into marriage with his young bride—not exactly a love match. Nevertheless, Maria Isabel, still in her youth, looked up to her much older husband, who was nearly twenty-two. The Crown Prince of Portugal, deprived of attention from his father and used to receiving it from his mother, looked fondly upon his little bride, who worshipped him as a hero.
With Carlos and Beatriz now wed, this left only the Infanta Maria. The years had not changed João’s mind—he had no desire to see his eldest daughter wed and taken away from him—and more than that, there remained no suitable suitor of the appropriate rank for her. “She is my comfort and my joy,” João reportedly told his confessor. “I could never bear to be parted from her, nor her from me. Let her wed when I am cold and in the ground—but not before.” In celebration of Maria’s twenty-third birthday in the summer of 1544, João invested Maria with the ancestral Duchy of Viseu, naming her Duchess of Viseu. For the first time, Maria now possessed an independent income and household. To this, João added additional revenues that totaled some 300,000 réis—along with giving his daughter the right to send one ship to India annually, exempting it from duties owed to the Casa da India. Despite this newfound financial independence, Maria remained tightly tethered to Lisbon and her father’s court—with respite only given when she was rarely allowed to travel to Viseu for short stays.
Códice Casanatense, depicting the retinue of a Portuguese Nobleman in India, c. 1540.
The 1540s brought great changes to the Portuguese colonial empire—both positive and negative. Portuguese traders continued to expand and explore throughout the East Indies, and in 1543 made landfall in Japan—the mythological land of Zipangu described by Marco Polo. Despite such fabulous discoveries, the Portuguese empire entered the 1540s burdened by large external debts and trade deficits. Ottoman influence continued to threaten Portuguese settlements in both India and North Africa, which necessitated greater amounts spent on troops and fortifications. In Africa, João continued to maintain the feitorias at Arguim, Mina, Mombasa, Sofala, and Mozambique, amongst others. Under João’s aegis, Portuguese explorers, merchants, and missionaries continued to map out the African coast while pressing further into the interior. The College of Arts, founded by the king, subsidized religious missions to Christianize the native people and develop peaceful relations with the natives. This mission was often in conflict with the reality on the ground—which included merchants trading in slaves. The flash point of strain within the Portuguese Empire was in Morocco, where Portugal possessed dozens of fortresses along the coast. Financial problems meant that Portugal was forced to consider the benefits of each settlement by its strategic and economic values. This meant that some were abandoned, such as Safim and Azamor, while others—Ceuta, Tangiers, and Mazagan were strengthened to face the changes in military tactics, where artillery reigned supreme.
In India, the Portuguese dominions were governed as the Estado de Índia under a designated viceroy. Portugal’s possessions in India were not contiguous, but rather cities, settlements, and ports scattered along the coasts of India, with the center of Portuguese rule being the city of Goa. From the coasts of India, Portuguese influence spread out across the Indian Ocean into the Persian Gulf as well as the Red Sea. This had brought Portuguese traders, explorers, and even missionaries into contact with the Ethiopian Empire and had seen Portuguese naval expeditions harass Turkish settlements in the Red Sea, such as Suakin—though they failed to seize Jeddah in 1541 and a small raiding force would be repelled from the Suez, as well. Although the Portuguese had failed in their intended aims, they had managed to paralyze Muslim trade within the Red Sea for a time, and the expedition soon landed at Massawa, where the self-proclaimed Patriarch of Ethiopia, João Bermudes convinced the Viceroy of India, Estêvão de Gama to provide aid to the beleaguered Emperor of Ethiopia, Gelawdewos, who had been attacked by the Adal Sultanate, led by the Imam Ahmed ibh Ibrahim al-Ghazi, better known as Ahmed Gragn by the Ethiopians. Viceroy Estêvão agreed to the demands of Bermudes and left a small coterie of troops at Massawa under the command of his brother, Cristóvão de Gama. The Portuguese musketeers would fight valiantly for the Ethiopian cause throughout 1542. They scored several victories in the early campaign, but the force would suffer a defeat at the Battle of Wolfa in August 1542. Cristóvão was taken prisoner by Ahmed Gragn at Wolfa, and Gragn proceeded to execute the Portuguese commander. A small part of the Portuguese force would take refuge with the Ethiopian Queen-Mother—they would be incorporated into Emperor Gelawdewos’ army, where they would provide vital firepower at the Battle of Wayna Daga against the Muslim musketeers—with a Portuguese shot supposedly killing Ahmed Gragn in battle, avenging the death of their commander.
[1]This actually happened IOTL.
Chapter 33. Sovereign of Spice
1535-1544; Portugal.
“Arms and the heroes, who from Lisbon's shore,
Through seas where sail was never spread before,
Beyond where Ceylon lifts her spicy breast,
And waves her woods above the watery waste,
With prowess more than human forced their way
To the fair kingdoms of the rising day:
What wars they waged, what seas, what dangers past,
What glorious empire crowned their toils at last.”
— Os Lusídas, Luis de Camões.
Musical Accompaniment: Perdi a Esperança
João III of Portugal, painted by Cristóvão Lopes, c. 1552.
Spain’s neighbor, Portugal, had passed through the first thirty years of the sixteenth century relatively unscathed. While Habsburg and Valois warred over the spoils of Italy, the grocer kings of Portugal instead focused on building their burgeoning mercantile empire. Under King Manuel, Portuguese explorers sailed across the ocean seas—Vasco de Gama had discovered a route to India in 1498. By the time Manuel had passed in 1521, Portuguese forts and factories dotted the coast of Africa, and Portuguese merchants had seized important ports throughout the east—Socotra, Goa, Malacca, and Hormuz. Under João III, Portuguese explorers, and navigators would continue to spread their influence even further into the Orient—seeking both rewards and riches for their success. Great wealth poured from the East Indies into Portugal through the Casa de India. The Portuguese crown received one million cruzados through the East Indies trade in 1510, and by 1518, the Casa de India provided the crown with almost forty percent of its revenues. The crown received spices imported through the Casa de India and routinely sent them to the Portuguese Feitoria in Antwerp, where they would mark up and upsell the spices for massive profit throughout the Low Countries and Northern Europe. Portuguese trade would continue to play a vital role throughout the reign of João III—and his close connections with the Habsburgs in both Burgundy and Spain would continue to aid the Portuguese in their commercial endeavors.
In 1518, João III married Eleanor, the sister of Charles V. Eleanor had previously been the Queen of France and had been married to Louis XII for a short period before his death. Eleanor was content in her second marriage, and João III proved to be a devoted husband. "From the day he laid eyes upon her, the king showed utter devotion to the queen," one Portuguese noblewoman wrote in her private diaries. "They spent the earliest years of their marriage enjoying pleasurable pastimes such as hunting, feasting, and attending balls at Alcáçova...” The wealth of the Portuguese crown from its overseas pursuits allowed João III to reign as he pleased. He summoned the Cortes only rarely—in 1525, it was agreed that the Cortes would meet every ten years. In 1535, their sole function was to recognize the Infante Carlos Manuel as Crown Prince and future successor to the throne. João III dedicated the earliest years of his reign to reforming the administration and justice system within the kingdom. In terms of foreign policy, João was closely connected to the House of Habsburg by marriage: his wife was the sister of Emperor Charles V and Ferdinand, the Prince of Asturias, and recognized the heir to Spain. João’s younger sister, Isabella, had been wed to Ferdinand as well—further binding ties between the Houses of Aviz and Habsburg. Despite João’s close ties to the Habsburgs, foreign policy was not overtly in favor of them. He strove to maintain neutrality in the conflicts between the great kingdoms of Europe. His youngest sister, Beatriz, had been wed to King François of France—giving Portugal a vital connection to France. Portugal also continued to maintain warm relations with England through trade and their ancestral alliance, which had been ratified in 1386.
The great wealth from the Orient allowed João to continue the magnificent building campaigns that had been started by his father. Aside from ordering an expansion of Ribeira Palace, he also ordered renovations carried out on the old royal residence at Alcáçova following an earthquake in 1531 that had caused great damage to the structure. Portuguese court life had greatly improved in the sixteenth century thanks to the increased revenues available to the monarchy—and this included an expansion of the royal household, from the higher offices down to the minor chamberlains. João’s reign saw the evolution of the court into a true cultural institution, and positions at court began to confer both social and cultural cachet that they did not in previous periods. “The King of Portugal hosts the most sumptuous table in Europe,” Antonio Battista delle Piane, a Genoese diplomat stationed in Lisbon wrote in a letter home to his brother. “The feasts have upwards to twenty dishes, flavored with the tastes of the Orient: cod in a sauce of black pepper and cloves, stewed vegetables, and marzipan rich with sugar, honey, and cinnamon…when we do not feast, we play; dances, masques, and hunting, each day a whirl.” In these jubilant ceremonies, João showed off the majesty and prestige of his crown—as magnificent as the court of Spain, and a genuine rival to English and French gaiety.
Eleanor of Austria, Queen of Portugal.
As a parent, João III was present, but not necessarily the most attentive. He lavished attention upon his eldest daughter, Maria—whom he dubbed his querida rosa, a term he would use for her even long after she grew into adulthood. The king’s relationship with his eldest son, Carlos Manuel, proved more fraught. “Crown Prince Carlos viewed his father in awe,” one Portuguese courtier would write decades later in his journal. “He was never at ease about the king and was often taciturn. This piqued the king. To put it simply: the Infante Carlos simply never measured up to his older sister. He failed in all measures when compared to the Infanta Maria…” Despite this, Carlos’ relationship with his mother was much warmer—she provided him with the emotional support that he never received from his father and was favored in her eyes the same way that Maria was favored in her father’s eyes. Both João and Eleanor desired what was best for favored children: and did what they could to make those goals come to fruition. For Eleanor, this meant promoting the match supported by her sister-in-law, Isabella—a marriage between Carlos Manuel and Infanta Maria of Spain. For João however, it meant keeping his Maria as close as possible. “Of course, the Infanta Maria of Portugal was born in a difficult time,” one Portuguese historian would write nearly a century later. “Born in 1521, there was a dearth of princesses of her age and rank but a lack of princes. Ridiculed in some circles as the sempre noiva or always engaged, she was considered a potential consort for Prince Philip of Spain, Prince Maximilian of Austria, Louis IV of Naples, and even Christian II of Denmark following his restoration—but all offers were refused by João with the utmost courtesy.” In a household where the eldest children were each favored by one parent, this left the youngest child, Infanta Beatriz, to her own devices—primarily raised by her nannies, nurses, and later governesses.
In cultural issues, João III was steeped in the humanist traditions of the Renaissance. He sponsored poets, playwrights, and authors, such as Garcia de Resende and Fernão Mendes Pinto. Many writers supported by the king were granted pensions and often attained positions within the royal household. João’s support also extended into the sciences, and he provided scholarships that allowed Portuguese students and scholars to study abroad, such as at the University of Paris, where the Collège de Sainte-Barbe was headed by a Portuguese theologian, Diogo de Gouveia. In Portugal, João arranged for the University of Coimbra to move from Lisbon to Coimbra. A college of arts would be founded in 1542, which allowed João to entice Portuguese and European teachers from the Collège de Guienne in Bordeaux. In religious affairs, Portugal’s expansion abroad was governed through the doctrine of Padroado negotiated with the Holy See. Padroado gave the crown control over the appointment of sees and benefices in the areas discovered by Portugal—along with a portion of these ecclesiastical revenues. In return, the crown promised to send missionaries abroad to evangelize amongst the natives and to provide the necessary funds to endow new dioceses, parishes, and religious establishments in these new territories. João would be one of the first monarchs to patronize the Society of Jesus, better known as the Jesuits after Pope Pius V sanctioned the crown’s request for Jesuit missionaries to help propagate the Catholic faith in the East Indies. Francis Xavier, the founder of the Jesuits, would be appointed Apostolic Nuncio to the East, tasked with restoring Christianity amongst the Portuguese settlers.
Religious issues were of paramount concern to João III, who was incredibly devout. “Both the king and queen were intently religious—and their faith in God provided another bridge for their relationship. They attended mass daily, and both were renowned for their piety.” Both the king and queen had their confessors—João was served by the Dominican friar, Diogo da Silva, while Eleanor was served by a Spaniard who had accompanied her to Portugal—Tomás Betanzos. Silva played a vital role in encouraging João to continue the work of his father in bringing the Inquisition to Portugal, supported in this by the queen and Betanzos. Though attempts to bring the Inquisition into Portugal dated from 1515, none had succeeded. Though João enlisted the support of Charles V in getting the papacy to agree with his requests, the 1520s proved fraught with increased French influence in Italy. Only in 1531 did the Papacy agree to the installation of the Inquisition—but on terms considered odious by João. By 1532, João had sent his representative to Rome, Duarte da Paz—a Marrano who had fought for the crown in Morocco and had been distinguished in his service, even receiving the Order of Christ. When Da Paz arrived in Rome to treat with Pius V, he immediately turned cloak—advocating in favor of the Marranos. The colorful and eloquent Da Paz succeeded in winning over many Cardinals to his cause, as well as the Pope. Pius V issued a bull suspending the introduction of the Inquisition into Portugal, and soon issued a general pardon for those guilty of Judaism and the release of prisoners and convicts[1]. “While we believe that all must bask in Christ’s love,” a report that justified Pius V’s began. “The Inquisition is not the true doctrine of the conversion of infidels. The workings of the Inquisitorial courts are most terrible, and its officers are no ministers of Christ, but rather Satan—no better than thieves and mercenaries.”
Woodcut of the "Water Cure," one of the punishments used by the Inquisition.
The bull of pardon caused great turmoil, as the Portuguese Marranos were now immune to proceedings against them. “That man is a slippery snake,” João reportedly uttered regarding da Paz when he heard of his betrayals. Though Da Paz’s star had risen high—it was soon quick to fall when he was attacked in Rome by assassins. Stabbed fourteen times, he survived because of the armor he wore under his clothes and would be nursed back to health under the supervision of the pope’s doctors. Da Paz attempted to claim that the assassination had been ordered by Portugal, but João demurred from his charge—Da Paz’s position as protector of the Marrano’s soon crumbled when they accused him of embezzling 4000 ducats meant for the Pope. Leaving Rome, Da Paz was now covered in ignominy—when he reached Venice, he turned cloak once again, denouncing the Marranos to João III and writing to the Pope that he should confiscate their property for the church. He viciously slandered the new representative of the Marranos in Rome and would travel from Venice to Ferrara, where he would be imprisoned for a short time. Da Paz’s story ended shortly after his release from prison. He returned to Judaism and emigrated to Constantinople—where he allegedly embraced the Islamic faith. João would continue to press for a Portuguese Inquisition, which would finally be granted in 1542 by Pius V’s successor, Gelasius III—who would annul the bull of pardon issued by Pius V.
Infanta Maria of Spain and Infanta Beatriz of Portugal, circa 1543; AI Generated.
João and Eleanor’s children continued to grow. Of paramount concern was potential marriages—though João had little inclination to give up his eldest daughter, he was less concerned regarding his son and youngest daughter. João’s sister, Isabella, spearheaded a match between the Portuguese and Spanish Royal Houses—she suggested that Carlos Manuel should marry her eldest daughter, Maria—while João’s youngest daughter, Beatriz, should be wed to Fernando Alonso; Isabella’s eldest son and the future King of Spain. This match was highly championed by Eleanor, though proceedings were informal until Isabella died in 1543. Shortly thereafter, Ferdinand agreed that the marriages proposed by his late wife should be honored. The Treaty of Santa Cruz would be ratified four months following Isabella’s death—with it agreed that the marriages should proceed as soon as possible. At the time, Carlos Manuel’s intended bride was fourteen, while the Infanta Beatriz, intended for Fernando Alonso, was thirteen. The so-called Exchange of the Infantas occurred on the border between Portugal and Spain, near the hamlet of Fuentes de Oñoro. “Both the courts converged on the little hamlet for the changing over ceremony… a wooden building was built upon the border for both the infantas…” one courtier would write in their private journal regarding the ceremony. “They entered at the same time and emerged on the other side—leaving behind the former households and being embraced by their new one. Infanta Beatriz was small, her eyes filled with fear as she departed—despite her magnificent gown of black silk, her pearls, and jewels, she looked every inch a scared little girl… not the woman she now was. When she left us, we were soon joined by the Infanta Maria of Spain… the future crown princess. At fourteen she was pretty… slim figured and petite, her hair covered by a veil of black and white. She approached the king, and the queen offered up her obeisance with a low curtsey. Her first words to their majesties were in heavily accented Portuguese: “I come to you as a humble daughter and ask for your blessing.” Both gave their blessing readily—with Queen Eleanor ecstatic to have her niece so close.” As the Portuguese court now possessed two Infantas who went by the name of Maria, Maria of Spain would soon become known as Maria Isabel—incorporating her middle name and as reverence to her newly deceased mother.
Carlos Manuel would marry his Spanish bride in January 1544 at the Cathedral of Lisbon. The marriage was solemnized by the Archbishop of Lisbon—with a blessing offered by Carlos Manuel’s uncle, the Infante Henrique, Archbishop of Evora. Even at the wedding ceremony, Carlos Manuel found himself outshined by his formidable sister. “It was as if the Infanta was preparing for her wedding,” one of Maria’s ladies would write in a letter to her mother. “She dressed in a gown made of magnificent red silk and bedecked herself in her finest jewels—a necklace of silver with a large sapphire in the middle—attached to a miniature portrait of the king which hung about her bosom. Another chain of gold hung about her neck, combined with a pearl choker that had a clasp of great rubies and diamonds… all gifts from her father, the king. Rings adorned each of her fingers, and she wore a veil and translucent silk. When she deigned to enter the cathedral, minutes before the ceremony was to start, all the eyes were upon her… she behaved as if she was the bride, and everyone saw her as such. The Spanish Infanta could only watch her future sister-in-law with sad eyes—knowing she could never compare.” The wedding ceremony and festivities would pass onward without incident. Despite Maria’s drastic entrance, Carlos Manuel was able to settle into marriage with his young bride—not exactly a love match. Nevertheless, Maria Isabel, still in her youth, looked up to her much older husband, who was nearly twenty-two. The Crown Prince of Portugal, deprived of attention from his father and used to receiving it from his mother, looked fondly upon his little bride, who worshipped him as a hero.
With Carlos and Beatriz now wed, this left only the Infanta Maria. The years had not changed João’s mind—he had no desire to see his eldest daughter wed and taken away from him—and more than that, there remained no suitable suitor of the appropriate rank for her. “She is my comfort and my joy,” João reportedly told his confessor. “I could never bear to be parted from her, nor her from me. Let her wed when I am cold and in the ground—but not before.” In celebration of Maria’s twenty-third birthday in the summer of 1544, João invested Maria with the ancestral Duchy of Viseu, naming her Duchess of Viseu. For the first time, Maria now possessed an independent income and household. To this, João added additional revenues that totaled some 300,000 réis—along with giving his daughter the right to send one ship to India annually, exempting it from duties owed to the Casa da India. Despite this newfound financial independence, Maria remained tightly tethered to Lisbon and her father’s court—with respite only given when she was rarely allowed to travel to Viseu for short stays.
Códice Casanatense, depicting the retinue of a Portuguese Nobleman in India, c. 1540.
The 1540s brought great changes to the Portuguese colonial empire—both positive and negative. Portuguese traders continued to expand and explore throughout the East Indies, and in 1543 made landfall in Japan—the mythological land of Zipangu described by Marco Polo. Despite such fabulous discoveries, the Portuguese empire entered the 1540s burdened by large external debts and trade deficits. Ottoman influence continued to threaten Portuguese settlements in both India and North Africa, which necessitated greater amounts spent on troops and fortifications. In Africa, João continued to maintain the feitorias at Arguim, Mina, Mombasa, Sofala, and Mozambique, amongst others. Under João’s aegis, Portuguese explorers, merchants, and missionaries continued to map out the African coast while pressing further into the interior. The College of Arts, founded by the king, subsidized religious missions to Christianize the native people and develop peaceful relations with the natives. This mission was often in conflict with the reality on the ground—which included merchants trading in slaves. The flash point of strain within the Portuguese Empire was in Morocco, where Portugal possessed dozens of fortresses along the coast. Financial problems meant that Portugal was forced to consider the benefits of each settlement by its strategic and economic values. This meant that some were abandoned, such as Safim and Azamor, while others—Ceuta, Tangiers, and Mazagan were strengthened to face the changes in military tactics, where artillery reigned supreme.
In India, the Portuguese dominions were governed as the Estado de Índia under a designated viceroy. Portugal’s possessions in India were not contiguous, but rather cities, settlements, and ports scattered along the coasts of India, with the center of Portuguese rule being the city of Goa. From the coasts of India, Portuguese influence spread out across the Indian Ocean into the Persian Gulf as well as the Red Sea. This had brought Portuguese traders, explorers, and even missionaries into contact with the Ethiopian Empire and had seen Portuguese naval expeditions harass Turkish settlements in the Red Sea, such as Suakin—though they failed to seize Jeddah in 1541 and a small raiding force would be repelled from the Suez, as well. Although the Portuguese had failed in their intended aims, they had managed to paralyze Muslim trade within the Red Sea for a time, and the expedition soon landed at Massawa, where the self-proclaimed Patriarch of Ethiopia, João Bermudes convinced the Viceroy of India, Estêvão de Gama to provide aid to the beleaguered Emperor of Ethiopia, Gelawdewos, who had been attacked by the Adal Sultanate, led by the Imam Ahmed ibh Ibrahim al-Ghazi, better known as Ahmed Gragn by the Ethiopians. Viceroy Estêvão agreed to the demands of Bermudes and left a small coterie of troops at Massawa under the command of his brother, Cristóvão de Gama. The Portuguese musketeers would fight valiantly for the Ethiopian cause throughout 1542. They scored several victories in the early campaign, but the force would suffer a defeat at the Battle of Wolfa in August 1542. Cristóvão was taken prisoner by Ahmed Gragn at Wolfa, and Gragn proceeded to execute the Portuguese commander. A small part of the Portuguese force would take refuge with the Ethiopian Queen-Mother—they would be incorporated into Emperor Gelawdewos’ army, where they would provide vital firepower at the Battle of Wayna Daga against the Muslim musketeers—with a Portuguese shot supposedly killing Ahmed Gragn in battle, avenging the death of their commander.
[1]This actually happened IOTL.
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Portugal! Jeez, Maria of Portugal seems like a such showboat! I really hope Carlos Manuel will be happy with his Maria Isabel.
How chaotic is this man
Take that Aviz bastard!
Thats amazing! Thats wonderful!
They're absolutely right!
Im starting to have hope-
Fucking asshole!
No you dont-
And there it is
They ruined everythin, again
😔
That's what I've been saying man, never trust that blasted dynasty, not even once
Fitting title in all honesty
Accurately sums up my feelings here
*Sigh*
Ill need a chocolate milk for that one
Not me derailing a Nordic update 💀 But nice that we got a Portuguese update! Things seem to be going well!
I’m calling it now. We’ll eventually get a Queen Maria I of Portugal here. She’ll perhaps even reign concurrently with Mary I of England! Once she’s in her mid/late twenties and all/most of Carlos Manuel’s children die young, João will likely marry her to an Aviz cousin. It’ll also keep his precious girl close
She's definitely the daddy's girl of the family. As for Carlos and his bride... I anticipate it will be a marriage that works in it's own way, though certainly no love affair.
I honestly debated a different end to the Inquisition debacle, considering IOTL it was a fraught exercise (and indeed, Da Paz managed for a time to convince the Pope to do what happened here). I also took into consideration Charles V's weakened position, and France's dominance of Italy as possibilities that might change things, along with the differing Popes (Pius IV being pro-Imperial, Pius V being a milksop, while Gelasius is seen as pro-Imperial... as well as João himself. I've heard different stories regarding his piety, that one his piety came about as a result of his failed engagement to Eleanor, and others suggested he'd always been pious. Given Eleanor's own religious faith, it seemed that regardless, João would push / be pushed for the installation of the Inquisition. Odious as it is, I settled for a delayed implementation... though the Marranos having a last hurrah in the 1530s might have some butterfly effects, and certainly they will continue to maintain a presence in Rome.
That's definitely an interesting observation! But my lips are sealed as to the future of the Portuguese House. As for João arranging a marriage for her later on, that is certainly possible... but I think her options re: Aviz cousins are limited: Guimarães children with Isabel of Braganza are nearly twenty years older than Maria. She does have a few unmarried uncles that could be suitable spouses... but there's also the real possibility of her falling for someone entirely different, and begging daddy to be allowed to wed. With her sojourns north to Viseu, whose to say who she might meet and befriend. 😉 And who's to say how João might react, given his selfishness regarding his eldest daughter.
I hope so, it'd be nice to see something good come out of it aside from just a delay
Oh thats hella interesting
Chapter 34. The Danish Restoration
This one is a lengthy one, ya'll! But we finally get a chance to return back north to see what's going on up there. I dedicate this chapter to @King of Danes as he provided some interesting ideas and critiques as I was brainstorming this chapter. As always, I appreciate everyone's support for Anno! Turtledove voting is still open until tomorrow afternoon, and Anno is candidate in the Early Modern category—I appreciate all the love it's gotten so far!
Chapter 34. The Danish Restoration
1537-1545; Denmark & Sweden.
“All power is from God.”
— Gustav Vasa
Musical Accompaniment: Wer wolt ihr in Ehren nicht sein hold
Christian II of Denmark; Painted by Lucas Cranach, c. 1530.
The success of the Count’s Feud saw 1537 open with Christian II once more firmly upon his ancestral throne in Denmark, with his rival, the former Duke of Holstein, held captive at Nyborg Castle alongside his wife. Christian’s son, John, remained in Denmark only for a short time, and in 1537 took leave of his father to return to England. His two daughters, Dorothea, and Christina, from their exile in the Low Countries, soon joined Christian II. “The king was beyond pleased to have his daughters with him once again,” Ingeborg Ulfstand, a Danish courtier, would record in her private journals. “After their mother’s death, the emperor took care of raising the princesses into his household, and the king himself had not seen either of them in almost a decade. King Christian met his daughters as they disembarked, the trio embracing each other as they shed tears of joy. The king stated: ‘You are home now, my daughters—and you shall have everything that you shall ever need.’ He then escorted both princesses back to Copenhagen Castle… and took great joy in showing them to their rooms, the chambers they had inhabited as children.”
Christian was beyond pleased to once more have his family reunited. Despite this joyous reunion, Christian knew it a temporary reunification. His mind turned naturally towards the marriages of his daughters—and the alliances and security that they could provide to his throne. “Christian II returned to his throne a changed man,” a Danish historian would write in a treatise concerning his restoration nearly a century later. Not jaded, but vindicated, he returned to Denmark. After enduring the bitter taste of exile and imprisonment, he eventually regained his rightful place. He felt that God alone had brought this miracle to pass, and that his destiny was to be sovereign of his realm until his last dying days. Christian II was not a man who investigated the past to see his mistakes; instead, he saw only that he had always been right in his choices and policies.” Christian II saws his daughters as pillars for his reign—to expand his influence and to build alliances that would further secure his position.
In Sweden, Gustav Vasa dealt with his troubles. Gustav’s break with Rome had given him unprecedented power over the Swedish church but had also caused grave unrest in some areas of the kingdom. Dalarna had risen against Gustav’s rule three times in the first ten years of his reign—each revolt put down more harshly than the revolt that preceded it. The royal house also faced troubles, as Gustav’s marriage to Queen Catherine of Saxe-Lauenburg was very unhappy. They had been married for almost six years, and besides a daughter who died shortly after birth in 1533, the queen seemed unable to give Gustav an heir. “Tongues wagged throughout the king’s marriage,” one anonymous Swedish writer wrote. “Those who held fast to the old faith whispered that the king’s marriage was barren precisely because of heresy… and so long as he continued to defy the Pope and Rome, his marriage would be barren.” Catholic propaganda in Sweden attacked the king for exactly that, and one pamphlet, proclaiming to be a prophecy, thundered forth: “Gustav Vasa, the pretended King of the Swedes wallows in filth, blinded by a false prophet. So long as he errs in the heresy of Luther, his seed shall rot and the womb of his wife shall stay barren—he shall have no living issue until he returns to the one, holy, catholic, apostolic church.” Catherine of Saxe-Lauenburg would suffer a second miscarriage in 1537, dying shortly thereafter from childbed fever.
So-called Bysta Portrait of Gustav Vasa, c. 1600, reproduced from a 1550 portrait now lost.
The members of the Rigsraad in Denmark greeted the news of the death of the Swedish queen with happiness, though for different reasons. Some saw it as a vindication of their own sovereign, while others looked towards it as a chance for peace and reconciliation. Christian II completely reconstituted the Rigsraad under his leadership, selecting his allies such as Claus Bille, and members of the Bølle and Mikkelsen families. Aside from members of the nobility, Christian had also elevated members of the wealthy bourgeoisie into his council. The pro-peace party, headed by Henrik Rosenvinge, was the first to put forth their suggestion: an end to enmity between Denmark and Sweden through the marriage of the Princess Dorothea to King Gustav Vasa. It was no surprise that Christian’s reaction was thunderous: “So long as I breathe, I shall never consent to the marriage of either of my daughters to a traitor. God has rewarded my faith through these tumultuous times, and I shall not err now… the death of the Swedish pretender’s concubine is all the proof I need… we are the righteous and they are the wicked. I am the rightful King of Sweden and shall be until my dying day. I have no need for peace or amity when I am God’s righteous.” It was then and there that Christian II laid forth his testament regarding Sweden: no reconciliation, no recognition.
Christian instead sought to shore up Danish influence in Germany—particularly among those states that still clung to the reformation. For his eldest daughter, Dorothea, Christian entered negotiations with the Duke of Pomerania, Kasimir VI[1] for a marriage between Dorothea and the duke’s eldest son, Otto. Though the Lutheran faith had steadily gained influence within Pomerania, Kasimir VI remained dedicated to the Catholic faith, and was more than happy to renew connections with the Danish royal house—even more prudent as Kasimir’s sister, Sophie, had been married to Frederick of Denmark and had recently come into conflict with Christian II over her dower properties in Holstein, which he had seized during the Counts Feud. The Treaty of Stettin, signed in the spring of 1538 arranged not only for the marriage between Otto and Dorothea, but sought to settle Queen Dowager Sophie’s dower—Christian II agreed to return part of her dower to her, primarily her estates in Lolland and Folster, as well as Kiel and Plön Castle, which she would hold for life. In return, Christian II asked that the former queen vacate Gottorp Castle, but gave her the right to live at Kiel for her lifetime. Christian II also agreed to allow Sophie to maintain custody of her daughters. The Duke of Prussia continued to have custody of her eldest son, Hans, while Philip of Hesse fostered her second son, Adolf, at his court. The court of Christian II would foster Frederik, the queen’s youngest son. Christian II promised to provide for Frederik by preparing him for a clerical career—a Catholic clerical career. This promoted raucous protests from Queen Dowager Sophie, but to no avail. Christian soon would place Prince Frederik in the care of the Abbot of Æbelholt, who would take charge of the young prince’s religious education. Dorothea and Otto would marry shortly afterwards, towards the end of 1538—their marriage celebrated on All Souls Day.
While Christian sought a suitable husband for his youngest daughter, Gustav Vasa was prepared to embark on his own journey to find another suitable wife. One faction within the Swedish Riksråd argued the king should seek his second wife from among the Swedish nobility. The second faction argued for a foreign marriage, which prevailed. Gustav understood plainly the need to seek foreign allies and support—even more important in the wake of Christian II’s restoration, and the close connections he maintained with both England and the Empire. “If the Danes are to be cozy with England and the emperor both,” Gustav reportedly uttered to his councilors. “Then we shall become friends with their most mortal enemies—France.” Gustav named his favorite, Erik Fleming, as his envoy, and dispatched him to the court of France in 1538 with two goals in mind: to seek France’s friendship and a new queen. Gustav’s idea was not necessarily radical; France had long been one of Sweden’s trading partners, and a trade treaty signed in 1499 had long provided Sweden with wheat, wine, canvas, sheets, and even silk for skins, furs, butter, whales, timber, tar, and iron and copper. Fleming would arrive in France in the summer of 1538 through the port of Dieppe and would write in his journal that: “And this, no doubt—is the land of plenty.” Fleming’s introduction to the French court took place at the Château of Saint-Germain, where he met King François and Queen Beatriz.
Fleming’s popularity soared in France, and he became known as le Suédois. This northern man with his long beard and fur coats shocked the refined French courtiers, but he quickly became a boon companion of King François, and they included him in court entertainments, whether they were feasts, balls, or hunting excursions. It did not take long before Fleming could divulge his true intentions to the French King: Sweden sought not only France’s friendship, but a new bride for their king. François was receptive to the pleas of the Swedes, to a point—though his youngest daughter Victoire remained unwed (and would not marry the Duke of Cleves until 1540) he could not in good faith consider marrying his own daughter to a Lutheran. Despite this, a solution arose: the Queen of Navarre suggested that the King of Sweden should marry her sister-in-law, the Viscountess of Rohan, who had recently become a widow. From there, matters proceeded swiftly—Gustav gave his approval to Fleming to open formal marriage negotiations with the French. François formally signed the Treaty of Vincennes in 1538, agreeing to provide Isabella with a dowry of 150,000₶ as though she were born a Princess of France. Isabella herself received the news of her new marriage stoically. In a letter to a friend, the princess wrote: “I shall never see this land again, nor my children—I am resigned to live and die in the coldest reaches of the world.” Isabella and Gustav were married by proxy in March 1539 at the Château of Pau. Isabella departed France in May 1539—her retinue included not only members of her household, but masons and painters, as well as a medical doctor—Nicholas Cop, a friend of Marguerite d’Angoulême known for his Calvinist sympathies. Her chaplain, Andreas Hyperius, came highly recommended by Jean Calvin—with many of the reformers within the queen’s coterie hoping to see how the reformation had changed Sweden. Isabella, who would become known as Elisabet, arrived in Sweden in the summer of 1539. Elisabet and Gustav married in a wholly Protestant ceremony at the Cathedral of Uppsala, with her coronation following the next day. Though not a love match, the royal couple proved that the so-called curse upon the new Swedish Royal House was just silly snuff—with Elisabet providing the Vasas with a succession of little princes and princesses: Carl (b. 1540), Johann (b. 1541), Elisabet (b. 1542) and Margareta (b. 1543, d. 1549).
Portrait of Elisabet (Isabella) of Navarre as Queen of Sweden; AI Generated.
For Christina, Christian opened negotiations with the emperor, hoping to find a suitable match for his youngest daughter. He aimed to arrange a match between Christina and Severin of Saxony, the Catholic heir to the Duchy of Saxony, but Charles V kindly declined the offer—Severin was engaged to his niece, Anna Gennara of Savoy, and he perceived no reason to break the match. Wishing to offer an alternative, Charles suggested Christina should wed one of his closest associates, the Prince of Orange. Christian kindly refused the offer and retorted to his councilors: “My daughter can do better than a prince whose patrimony is more piteous than even the most desperate of beggars.” As Christian scoured Europe for the perfect bridegroom for his youngest daughter, he could not help but weigh their virtues and their vices: François of Lorraine—too young. Friedrich of the Palatinate—too old. Andreas of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel—too eager. Heinrich of Würrtemberg—too poor; not eager enough. After a Bavarian envoy, Wiguläus von Eysen, arrived at court, people soon forgot about the excessive demands of the king. Eysen arrived in Denmark on behalf of Ludwig X, the Duke of Bavaria, dispensing his charm and gifts to both the king and his court. Decades later, one memoirist would write that, “Eysen arrived in Denmark weighed down in gold and precious jewels—and left stark naked.” Eysen was a man with a mission—his baggage train was immense with jewels, wines, silks, and exotic spices that he dispensed readily. Alongside his treasures were great burlap sacks, each one filled to the brim with thalers and florins, his bags worth some ƒ50,000 altogether. Eysen was a determined man… where gifts did not work, he simply dispensed bribes. Within three days, he secured an audience with the king and made clear his demands: the offer of his hand in marriage to Princess Christina.
The Bavarian marriage offer was not unwelcome to Christian. Though Bavaria was not exactly in the closest proximity to Denmark, they had remained steadfast in their Catholic faith. Ludwig also possessed an appropriate rank: as Duke of Bavaria, he co-reigned alongside his elder brother, Wilhelm IV. Despite positive benefits, Christian also had his concerns: primarily, he took issue with Bavaria’s succession law, which in 1506 had decreed that the Duchy of Bavaria should pass unbroken to the eldest son. Though Ludwig X had forced his brother into accepting him as co-ruler, Christian feared that Christina and Ludwig’s children would have no right to the territories Ludwig presently ruled. Eysen soothed the king’s feelings in the only way he could—through flattery. Christian accepted everything that Eysen said to him in his dulcet tones, the little Bavarian envoy speaking to the Danish king with due deference and respect that Christian believed himself entitled too—and that he had not received for many years. It was little surprise that he found a fast friend in Eysen—and that the normally suspicious king readily believed all that he was told. “Eysen poured whatever honey he could into the king’s ear,” one courtier would write decades later in their memoirs. “The problem was that plenty of it was poison—and patently false. He was prepared to say and do whatever he could to secure the king’s support for his master’s marriage—when the succession came up, Eysen quickly proclaimed that Duke Ludwig had recently summoned the Landtag which would soon dispense with the everlasting succession and restore the old laws. When the king fretted over the princesses’ dower, Eysen quickly proclaimed that her dower would consist of Kelheim, Außernzell, Reisbach, and Zwiese—along with life rights to live either in the Landshut Residenz or Trausnitz Castle. To this he also promised her a pension of 15,000 thalers—to be guaranteed and paid out by Wilhelm IV… promises that both dukes were unaware of.” By 1540, negotiations between Christian and von Eysen entered their final stages. Christian promised Duke Ludwig a dowry of 40,000 crowns—a large sum that the Danish state was in no true state to pay. Despite this, Christian was prepared to use revenue from the Sound Due to finance part of the dowry—with another portion appropriated from the revenues of Prince John’s estates. “I find myself in a very lamentable situation—I cannot pay what is owed to you for yet another year.” Christian would write to his son. “You will learn in due time exactly how expensive a princess is. My only prayer is that next year should be more prosperous for my kingdom, and that I should be able to pay for the arrears that are so desperately owed to you…”
They formalized the signing of the Treaty of Copenhagen in the fall of 1540, and Princess Christina entered a formal betrothal with Duke Ludwig X of Bavaria. They celebrated the proxy marriage ceremony with great pomp at the Church of St. Mary in Copenhagen. “His majesty beggared himself in pursuit of the princesses’ marriages,” one historian would write critically almost a century later. “Though he tried his best to adorn the Church of Our Lady in Papist splendor, there were still signs of the iconoclastic riots that had purified the church nearly a decade before—the choir remained in disarray, while only a few of the statues that had been plundered had been replaced. They had replaced the gilt altars in the church with gaudy imitations, decorating them with glass jewels and making them from gilt copper instead of the more expensive gold. It was pageantry devoid of any true pomp—there were no more reliquaries; even the vestments of the Bishop of Roskilde paled compared to what he might have worn ten years before…” Christina took leave of Denmark shortly after her proxy marriage, accompanied by Wiguläus von Eysen who prepared for a leisurely journey to Landshut. Eysen, having won over the father, attempted to ingratiate himself with the daughter and now Duchess of Bavaria. This proved to be a failure, and Christina retorted to her secretary, Johan Kjær: “He is charming, and too charming by an inch; he may crave my friendship, but that I shall never give him.” In the dying months of 1540, Christina’s cavalcade made a leisurely journey throughout northern Germany, with celebrations held for her at Coburg on New Year’s Eve. She arrived in Landshut during the second week of January, in 1541.
Ludwig X, Duke of Bavaria; Painted c. 1531.
At the Landshut Residenz, a gilded pleasure palace modeled after the Palazzo del Te in Mantua, Christina’s husband, Ludwig X, formally introduced himself to her. Ludwig X, Christina’s husband, was a hefty man in his mid-forties—with a great brown beard. Anna von Leonsberg, Ludwig’s illegitimate daughter, would later record in her diaries that: “When he first met the princess, Duke Ludwig dressed in his greatest finery. He wore a greatcoat trimmed with white sable. He hung a golden cross around his neck, and he wore a doublet made of black silk etched with gold and silver trim. A jerkin of red silk covered it. He cut a fine figure as he greeted the princess… he announced to her before all the court in booming German: ‘Welcome home, my wife.’ Princess Christina was most solicitous, offering the duke a very low curtesy before she returned his felicitations in equal measure: ‘I am most glad to be home, husband.’ All the court applauded, awed by our new duchess…” Christina and Ludwig were formally married on January 14, 1541, at St. Martin’s Church at Landshut. Ludwig and Christina would spend their honeymoon in Dachau, graciously provided by Wilhelm to his brother in celebration of his nuptials. Though Ludwig found himself enchanted with his beautiful new bride, the feelings were not mutual. “… the new Duchess of Bavaria’s life turned into a whirlwind; she had never led a settled life. From the imperial court in Brussels, she returned to a homeland that she couldn’t even remember. Her father wasted no time in putting her on the marriage market and quickly married her off to the highest (or perhaps most eager?) suitor. bidder. Her marriage had brought her to Bavaria—in Landshut, not Munich. Taken from one of the most glittering courts in all of Europe, she had endured the sterility of her father’s court and now inhabited a court that was provincial.” Christina’s unhappiness and perhaps her loneliness was difficult to miss on that honeymoon in Dachau—ducal servants gossiped about her crying spells and placed bets on when the duke and duchess might argue next. By the end of January, Ludwig and Christina departed Dachau to take up residence in Trausnitz Castle while the building program upon the Landshut Residenz continued.
In Sweden, Gustav had settled easily enough into his marriage with Elisabet. The Navarrese Infanta proved to be a potent accouterment to the Swedish court, and she took her position seriously. While the queen dedicated herself to matters of the royal household and the court, Gustav continued his drive to develop Sweden into a self-reliant kingdom. Gustav nursed hopes that Sweden might someday eclipse Denmark in both Scandinavia and the Baltic, but before that, self-preservation must come first. By 1541, Gustav was heavily indebted to the merchants of Lübeck. Lübeck had suffered its own tumults throughout the 1530s, which had culminated in the restoration of Catholicism and Nikolaus Brömse as Burgomaster. Though Brömse initially supported the cause of the Vasas in the 1520s, Prince John’s help in his restoration firmly tied him to the Danish cause. Brömse did what he could to steady Lübeck’s ship of state—the city dealt with economic issues and continued to press Sweden for the repayment of its debts: the principal stood at nearly 61,000 marks with another 20,000 accumulated in interest. Brömse sent Moritz von Rönnefeld to Sweden with a simple request: pay the king’s debts or offer further privileges. Denmark’s renewed alliance with Lübeck only complicated issues in Sweden, where the Hanseatic city held extensive trading privileges and almost an absolute control over Sweden’s foreign trade. There also continued to be unrest in the provinces, fueled by the heavy burden of taxation that the peasantry bore, alongside innovations in religion—though Gustav had succeeded in his break from Rome and had instituted Lutheran reforms, but many continued to cling to the old faith.
Swedish Army marching out to meet the Dacke Rebels; c. 1540s.
Things came to a head in June 1542, when peasantry led by Nils Dacke rose in Södra Möre in Småland. They assassinated sheriffs and tax collectors, starting what would become known as the Dacke War. Gustav mustered German landsknechts led by Arvid Trolle, but the German troops were unequipped to fight in the rugged forests and suffered heavy losses. Dacke proved to be a potent tactician, and he used defensive tactics, using the peasant’s crossbows to devastating effect. The situation became so serious that Gustav had to sign a truce with Dacke. Dacke reigned freely over most of southern Sweden; he reopened trade with Danish Skåne and re-instituted Catholic ceremonies in the area under his control. Support for Dacke’s cause included Denmark—Christian II remarked that, “Dacke is a staunch believer, and deserves our friendship. His cause is just. He rebels against no true king.” Trade through Skåne allowed the Danish crown to provide provisions and supplies. Further offers of aid came from Germany—with Duke Albrecht VII of Mecklenburg also providing aid. Despite Dacke’s success, the Swedish crown was not prepared to treat Dacke lightly. Sweden intensified their plans against the rebels: they blockaded the roads leading into Småland and areas under Dacke’s control and stopped the trade of all provisions and supplies. The crown also used propaganda to a deadly effect, painting Dacke as a traitor and heretic. Dacke’s base of support also continued to be an issue: while he had the support of the peasantry, the aristocracy and bourgeoisie distrusted his motives. One Småland aristocrat, Måns Johansson, supported the king despite their differences in opinion. He received the responsibility of leading the next military phases.
In January 1543, the Swedish crown broke the truce that had only been in effect for a few months, as the king ordered an even larger army into Småland to put down the rebel forces at any cost. The royal troops moved firstly into Östergötland and Västergötland as they secured the provinces to box in the rebels. By the spring of 1543, Danish support to Dacke became more limited, as Denmark dealt with their own troubles—the outbreak of revolt in Schleswig and Holstein as a reaction to recent edicts passed by Christian II to chip away at the Lutheran Ordinances that still held sway in the twin duchies. Despite these changes, Dacke remained quite confident, and dared to meet the Swedish troops in a pitched battle in March. The hardened Swedish soldiers, fighting on plain ground, shattered the peasant army, and Dacke himself suffered severe injuries in the battle. The Swedish troops all but crushed the rebellion, and they named Dacke an outlaw. Though Dacke escaped, Swedish troops later injured him in the summer of 1543. In August, Swedish troops finally caught up with him and cut him down at a farm near the parish of Gullabo. They posthumously executed Dacke by quartering him and then paraded his limbs around the communities that had supported him in a grisly public display. Gustav mercilessly executed Dacke’s family, including his wife, brother-in-law, and several other relatives.
In Denmark, the so-called German Revolt differed drastically from the Dacke Rebellion. Compared to Denmark, which had long been in a state of religious flux, Schleswig and Holstein had embraced the Reformation as early as the 1520s. Duke Christian, the son of King Frederik, had introduced a Lutheran Church system in 1528. This remained in place even after Christian II’s restoration, though he attacked it from the onset of his return to the throne—replacing Protestant bishops with Catholic ones, and ordering certain properties restored to the church. In late 1542, Christian decreed that the Roman Mass was to be restored across the duchies, provoking a sharp reaction from the German burghers in the region. Urban citizens in Holstein and Schleswig attacked properties and churches that had been restored to the Catholic faith, causing riots to spread throughout the urban areas. They smashed altars, religious relics, and attacked Catholic priests. Christian II immediately reacted and summoned together an army of some 12,000 men to deal with the rebels. John, Christian’s son, had recently arrived in Denmark at his father’s behest and soon took command of the royal forces and put down the rebellion fiercely. By the end of 1543, John had pacified both Schleswig and Holstein. He not only implemented his father’s decrees but ordered a suspension of the 1528 Church Ordinance—in effect dissolving the Lutheran State Church in the twin duchies. John would return in triumph to Denmark, where the people popularly acclaimed him. He presented himself at court as often as he could, but tongues also wagged regarding his growing friendship with a certain Danish noblewoman named Clara Andersdatter, who belonged to the prominent Bille family. “King John often made himself scarce, most especially in the evening,” a member of John’s Yeomen wrote in his private diaries. “When this occurred, we knew well that he did not wish to be found. Everyone knew he frequented the manse of Mistress Bille, his fondest companion.”
Christina’s marriage continued onwards—she acclimated to Landshut, and while she did not love Ludwig, she was in a way fond of him in her own way, enjoying how he often fretted over her. Her marriage endured two years of childlessness, but in 1543 became pregnant for the first time. In her private diaries, one of Christina’s ladies recorded. “The discovery of Duchess Christina’s pregnancy brought happiness to her and the duke. Their young duchess brought joy to all of Landshut, but Duke Wilhelm eagerly awaited in Munich to see if his sister-in-law might deliver a son or a daughter.” Christina’s first son was born in the fall of 1543, at the newly renovated Landshut Residenz, named Albrecht in honor of his grandfather. Following her first pregnancy, Christina proved much more fecund: in 1544, she gave birth to a daughter named Magdalene. Motherhood provided Christina with a vital role in her life, and by early 1545, she discovered she was pregnant for the third time. Ludwig’s declining health overshadowed the happiness that this should have provided Christina. By April 1545, he confined himself to his chambers; and by the end of April, he was dead and within a casket. Christina was no longer a wife, but a widow. Christina soon discovered after Ludwig’s death the worth of her marriage treaty: she sought to have her son Albrecht proclaimed as Duke of Bavaria alongside his uncle—and sought reassurances from Wilhelm IV that Albrecht could inherit the lands formally held by his father.
Christina of Denmark, Dowager Duchess of Bavaria; Painted in 1547.
Some weeks after Ludwig’s death, messengers from Munich arrived and coldly announced that they would not proclaim Albrecht as the Duke of Bavaria. “You cannot deprive my son of his rightful inheritance!” Christina allegedly thundered to the cold Bavarian courtiers that now oversaw her fate. When she attempted to produce her marriage treaty, she encountered only the reality of the situation. “We regret to inform you that nothing written here is the truth,” one of the Bavarian courtiers retorted. “Eysen was desperate to bring about this marriage at any cost—even if it meant through deceit. The Landtag has never altered the succession law. There was no discussion regarding your dower, and even Duke Wilhelm is unawares of these promises to provide you with a pension.” Though Wilhelm was gracious enough to deal with Eysen, who was executed for his duplicity, he showed less generosity regarding Christina’s dower and was intent on taking over Landshut and Straubing. That she technically had no dower put her in desperate straits and gave Wilhelm the entire advantage. The formidable Leonhard von Eck, Wilhelm’s chancellor, proposed an offer of the 15,000 thaler pension per year promised in her wedding contract, with an additional 35,000 thaler per year if Christina agreed to renounce her son’s rights to both Landshut and Straubing. “A most odious offer,” one lady within Christina’s household remarked, but the widowed duchess had little choice: with no support, no allies, and the possibility of no income, she knew must accept the demands put before her. Christina made a formal renunciation at Landshut in June 1545—the day following her renunciation, she received her first pension payment of 50,000 thalers. Wilhelm also put forth a suggestion: Christina could either continue to live in the Landshut Residenz for her lifetime, but he also offered her an open invitation to move into the Munich Residenz, to live closer to her Bavarian family. Christina kindly refused the offer: “Your kindness is paramount,” she wrote in a letter to the duke. “But my heart is here in Landshut… and where it must stay.”
Draped now in her widow weeds, Christina endured the remainder of her third pregnancy in quiet contemplation. Even though Christina had received the pension payment, she knew the reality of such payments: if they paid her next year, it would either be late or not in the amount promised. She did what she could to economize; she shuttered the unused areas of the Residenz and reduced the number of staff she kept down to the bare minimum needed to keep things running. In November 1545, Christina went into labor for the third and final time and successfully delivered a healthy baby boy. She named him Ludwig as a tribute to his deceased father. Christina now faced a very uncertain future; a Danish princess in a foreign country, she had little resources and now three children to care for. In desperation, she penned a letter to her father, where she beseeched his protection and favor now that her husband was gone and buried. Christian’s response returned to Christina swiftly, filled with florid words and vows of protection, but it was the line at the very end that meant the most: return to us—and return to us with your children, who shall enjoy our protection.
[1] He survives here, rather than Georg.
Chapter 34. The Danish Restoration
1537-1545; Denmark & Sweden.
“All power is from God.”
— Gustav Vasa
Musical Accompaniment: Wer wolt ihr in Ehren nicht sein hold
Christian II of Denmark; Painted by Lucas Cranach, c. 1530.
The success of the Count’s Feud saw 1537 open with Christian II once more firmly upon his ancestral throne in Denmark, with his rival, the former Duke of Holstein, held captive at Nyborg Castle alongside his wife. Christian’s son, John, remained in Denmark only for a short time, and in 1537 took leave of his father to return to England. His two daughters, Dorothea, and Christina, from their exile in the Low Countries, soon joined Christian II. “The king was beyond pleased to have his daughters with him once again,” Ingeborg Ulfstand, a Danish courtier, would record in her private journals. “After their mother’s death, the emperor took care of raising the princesses into his household, and the king himself had not seen either of them in almost a decade. King Christian met his daughters as they disembarked, the trio embracing each other as they shed tears of joy. The king stated: ‘You are home now, my daughters—and you shall have everything that you shall ever need.’ He then escorted both princesses back to Copenhagen Castle… and took great joy in showing them to their rooms, the chambers they had inhabited as children.”
Christian was beyond pleased to once more have his family reunited. Despite this joyous reunion, Christian knew it a temporary reunification. His mind turned naturally towards the marriages of his daughters—and the alliances and security that they could provide to his throne. “Christian II returned to his throne a changed man,” a Danish historian would write in a treatise concerning his restoration nearly a century later. Not jaded, but vindicated, he returned to Denmark. After enduring the bitter taste of exile and imprisonment, he eventually regained his rightful place. He felt that God alone had brought this miracle to pass, and that his destiny was to be sovereign of his realm until his last dying days. Christian II was not a man who investigated the past to see his mistakes; instead, he saw only that he had always been right in his choices and policies.” Christian II saws his daughters as pillars for his reign—to expand his influence and to build alliances that would further secure his position.
In Sweden, Gustav Vasa dealt with his troubles. Gustav’s break with Rome had given him unprecedented power over the Swedish church but had also caused grave unrest in some areas of the kingdom. Dalarna had risen against Gustav’s rule three times in the first ten years of his reign—each revolt put down more harshly than the revolt that preceded it. The royal house also faced troubles, as Gustav’s marriage to Queen Catherine of Saxe-Lauenburg was very unhappy. They had been married for almost six years, and besides a daughter who died shortly after birth in 1533, the queen seemed unable to give Gustav an heir. “Tongues wagged throughout the king’s marriage,” one anonymous Swedish writer wrote. “Those who held fast to the old faith whispered that the king’s marriage was barren precisely because of heresy… and so long as he continued to defy the Pope and Rome, his marriage would be barren.” Catholic propaganda in Sweden attacked the king for exactly that, and one pamphlet, proclaiming to be a prophecy, thundered forth: “Gustav Vasa, the pretended King of the Swedes wallows in filth, blinded by a false prophet. So long as he errs in the heresy of Luther, his seed shall rot and the womb of his wife shall stay barren—he shall have no living issue until he returns to the one, holy, catholic, apostolic church.” Catherine of Saxe-Lauenburg would suffer a second miscarriage in 1537, dying shortly thereafter from childbed fever.
So-called Bysta Portrait of Gustav Vasa, c. 1600, reproduced from a 1550 portrait now lost.
The members of the Rigsraad in Denmark greeted the news of the death of the Swedish queen with happiness, though for different reasons. Some saw it as a vindication of their own sovereign, while others looked towards it as a chance for peace and reconciliation. Christian II completely reconstituted the Rigsraad under his leadership, selecting his allies such as Claus Bille, and members of the Bølle and Mikkelsen families. Aside from members of the nobility, Christian had also elevated members of the wealthy bourgeoisie into his council. The pro-peace party, headed by Henrik Rosenvinge, was the first to put forth their suggestion: an end to enmity between Denmark and Sweden through the marriage of the Princess Dorothea to King Gustav Vasa. It was no surprise that Christian’s reaction was thunderous: “So long as I breathe, I shall never consent to the marriage of either of my daughters to a traitor. God has rewarded my faith through these tumultuous times, and I shall not err now… the death of the Swedish pretender’s concubine is all the proof I need… we are the righteous and they are the wicked. I am the rightful King of Sweden and shall be until my dying day. I have no need for peace or amity when I am God’s righteous.” It was then and there that Christian II laid forth his testament regarding Sweden: no reconciliation, no recognition.
Christian instead sought to shore up Danish influence in Germany—particularly among those states that still clung to the reformation. For his eldest daughter, Dorothea, Christian entered negotiations with the Duke of Pomerania, Kasimir VI[1] for a marriage between Dorothea and the duke’s eldest son, Otto. Though the Lutheran faith had steadily gained influence within Pomerania, Kasimir VI remained dedicated to the Catholic faith, and was more than happy to renew connections with the Danish royal house—even more prudent as Kasimir’s sister, Sophie, had been married to Frederick of Denmark and had recently come into conflict with Christian II over her dower properties in Holstein, which he had seized during the Counts Feud. The Treaty of Stettin, signed in the spring of 1538 arranged not only for the marriage between Otto and Dorothea, but sought to settle Queen Dowager Sophie’s dower—Christian II agreed to return part of her dower to her, primarily her estates in Lolland and Folster, as well as Kiel and Plön Castle, which she would hold for life. In return, Christian II asked that the former queen vacate Gottorp Castle, but gave her the right to live at Kiel for her lifetime. Christian II also agreed to allow Sophie to maintain custody of her daughters. The Duke of Prussia continued to have custody of her eldest son, Hans, while Philip of Hesse fostered her second son, Adolf, at his court. The court of Christian II would foster Frederik, the queen’s youngest son. Christian II promised to provide for Frederik by preparing him for a clerical career—a Catholic clerical career. This promoted raucous protests from Queen Dowager Sophie, but to no avail. Christian soon would place Prince Frederik in the care of the Abbot of Æbelholt, who would take charge of the young prince’s religious education. Dorothea and Otto would marry shortly afterwards, towards the end of 1538—their marriage celebrated on All Souls Day.
While Christian sought a suitable husband for his youngest daughter, Gustav Vasa was prepared to embark on his own journey to find another suitable wife. One faction within the Swedish Riksråd argued the king should seek his second wife from among the Swedish nobility. The second faction argued for a foreign marriage, which prevailed. Gustav understood plainly the need to seek foreign allies and support—even more important in the wake of Christian II’s restoration, and the close connections he maintained with both England and the Empire. “If the Danes are to be cozy with England and the emperor both,” Gustav reportedly uttered to his councilors. “Then we shall become friends with their most mortal enemies—France.” Gustav named his favorite, Erik Fleming, as his envoy, and dispatched him to the court of France in 1538 with two goals in mind: to seek France’s friendship and a new queen. Gustav’s idea was not necessarily radical; France had long been one of Sweden’s trading partners, and a trade treaty signed in 1499 had long provided Sweden with wheat, wine, canvas, sheets, and even silk for skins, furs, butter, whales, timber, tar, and iron and copper. Fleming would arrive in France in the summer of 1538 through the port of Dieppe and would write in his journal that: “And this, no doubt—is the land of plenty.” Fleming’s introduction to the French court took place at the Château of Saint-Germain, where he met King François and Queen Beatriz.
Fleming’s popularity soared in France, and he became known as le Suédois. This northern man with his long beard and fur coats shocked the refined French courtiers, but he quickly became a boon companion of King François, and they included him in court entertainments, whether they were feasts, balls, or hunting excursions. It did not take long before Fleming could divulge his true intentions to the French King: Sweden sought not only France’s friendship, but a new bride for their king. François was receptive to the pleas of the Swedes, to a point—though his youngest daughter Victoire remained unwed (and would not marry the Duke of Cleves until 1540) he could not in good faith consider marrying his own daughter to a Lutheran. Despite this, a solution arose: the Queen of Navarre suggested that the King of Sweden should marry her sister-in-law, the Viscountess of Rohan, who had recently become a widow. From there, matters proceeded swiftly—Gustav gave his approval to Fleming to open formal marriage negotiations with the French. François formally signed the Treaty of Vincennes in 1538, agreeing to provide Isabella with a dowry of 150,000₶ as though she were born a Princess of France. Isabella herself received the news of her new marriage stoically. In a letter to a friend, the princess wrote: “I shall never see this land again, nor my children—I am resigned to live and die in the coldest reaches of the world.” Isabella and Gustav were married by proxy in March 1539 at the Château of Pau. Isabella departed France in May 1539—her retinue included not only members of her household, but masons and painters, as well as a medical doctor—Nicholas Cop, a friend of Marguerite d’Angoulême known for his Calvinist sympathies. Her chaplain, Andreas Hyperius, came highly recommended by Jean Calvin—with many of the reformers within the queen’s coterie hoping to see how the reformation had changed Sweden. Isabella, who would become known as Elisabet, arrived in Sweden in the summer of 1539. Elisabet and Gustav married in a wholly Protestant ceremony at the Cathedral of Uppsala, with her coronation following the next day. Though not a love match, the royal couple proved that the so-called curse upon the new Swedish Royal House was just silly snuff—with Elisabet providing the Vasas with a succession of little princes and princesses: Carl (b. 1540), Johann (b. 1541), Elisabet (b. 1542) and Margareta (b. 1543, d. 1549).
Portrait of Elisabet (Isabella) of Navarre as Queen of Sweden; AI Generated.
For Christina, Christian opened negotiations with the emperor, hoping to find a suitable match for his youngest daughter. He aimed to arrange a match between Christina and Severin of Saxony, the Catholic heir to the Duchy of Saxony, but Charles V kindly declined the offer—Severin was engaged to his niece, Anna Gennara of Savoy, and he perceived no reason to break the match. Wishing to offer an alternative, Charles suggested Christina should wed one of his closest associates, the Prince of Orange. Christian kindly refused the offer and retorted to his councilors: “My daughter can do better than a prince whose patrimony is more piteous than even the most desperate of beggars.” As Christian scoured Europe for the perfect bridegroom for his youngest daughter, he could not help but weigh their virtues and their vices: François of Lorraine—too young. Friedrich of the Palatinate—too old. Andreas of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel—too eager. Heinrich of Würrtemberg—too poor; not eager enough. After a Bavarian envoy, Wiguläus von Eysen, arrived at court, people soon forgot about the excessive demands of the king. Eysen arrived in Denmark on behalf of Ludwig X, the Duke of Bavaria, dispensing his charm and gifts to both the king and his court. Decades later, one memoirist would write that, “Eysen arrived in Denmark weighed down in gold and precious jewels—and left stark naked.” Eysen was a man with a mission—his baggage train was immense with jewels, wines, silks, and exotic spices that he dispensed readily. Alongside his treasures were great burlap sacks, each one filled to the brim with thalers and florins, his bags worth some ƒ50,000 altogether. Eysen was a determined man… where gifts did not work, he simply dispensed bribes. Within three days, he secured an audience with the king and made clear his demands: the offer of his hand in marriage to Princess Christina.
The Bavarian marriage offer was not unwelcome to Christian. Though Bavaria was not exactly in the closest proximity to Denmark, they had remained steadfast in their Catholic faith. Ludwig also possessed an appropriate rank: as Duke of Bavaria, he co-reigned alongside his elder brother, Wilhelm IV. Despite positive benefits, Christian also had his concerns: primarily, he took issue with Bavaria’s succession law, which in 1506 had decreed that the Duchy of Bavaria should pass unbroken to the eldest son. Though Ludwig X had forced his brother into accepting him as co-ruler, Christian feared that Christina and Ludwig’s children would have no right to the territories Ludwig presently ruled. Eysen soothed the king’s feelings in the only way he could—through flattery. Christian accepted everything that Eysen said to him in his dulcet tones, the little Bavarian envoy speaking to the Danish king with due deference and respect that Christian believed himself entitled too—and that he had not received for many years. It was little surprise that he found a fast friend in Eysen—and that the normally suspicious king readily believed all that he was told. “Eysen poured whatever honey he could into the king’s ear,” one courtier would write decades later in their memoirs. “The problem was that plenty of it was poison—and patently false. He was prepared to say and do whatever he could to secure the king’s support for his master’s marriage—when the succession came up, Eysen quickly proclaimed that Duke Ludwig had recently summoned the Landtag which would soon dispense with the everlasting succession and restore the old laws. When the king fretted over the princesses’ dower, Eysen quickly proclaimed that her dower would consist of Kelheim, Außernzell, Reisbach, and Zwiese—along with life rights to live either in the Landshut Residenz or Trausnitz Castle. To this he also promised her a pension of 15,000 thalers—to be guaranteed and paid out by Wilhelm IV… promises that both dukes were unaware of.” By 1540, negotiations between Christian and von Eysen entered their final stages. Christian promised Duke Ludwig a dowry of 40,000 crowns—a large sum that the Danish state was in no true state to pay. Despite this, Christian was prepared to use revenue from the Sound Due to finance part of the dowry—with another portion appropriated from the revenues of Prince John’s estates. “I find myself in a very lamentable situation—I cannot pay what is owed to you for yet another year.” Christian would write to his son. “You will learn in due time exactly how expensive a princess is. My only prayer is that next year should be more prosperous for my kingdom, and that I should be able to pay for the arrears that are so desperately owed to you…”
They formalized the signing of the Treaty of Copenhagen in the fall of 1540, and Princess Christina entered a formal betrothal with Duke Ludwig X of Bavaria. They celebrated the proxy marriage ceremony with great pomp at the Church of St. Mary in Copenhagen. “His majesty beggared himself in pursuit of the princesses’ marriages,” one historian would write critically almost a century later. “Though he tried his best to adorn the Church of Our Lady in Papist splendor, there were still signs of the iconoclastic riots that had purified the church nearly a decade before—the choir remained in disarray, while only a few of the statues that had been plundered had been replaced. They had replaced the gilt altars in the church with gaudy imitations, decorating them with glass jewels and making them from gilt copper instead of the more expensive gold. It was pageantry devoid of any true pomp—there were no more reliquaries; even the vestments of the Bishop of Roskilde paled compared to what he might have worn ten years before…” Christina took leave of Denmark shortly after her proxy marriage, accompanied by Wiguläus von Eysen who prepared for a leisurely journey to Landshut. Eysen, having won over the father, attempted to ingratiate himself with the daughter and now Duchess of Bavaria. This proved to be a failure, and Christina retorted to her secretary, Johan Kjær: “He is charming, and too charming by an inch; he may crave my friendship, but that I shall never give him.” In the dying months of 1540, Christina’s cavalcade made a leisurely journey throughout northern Germany, with celebrations held for her at Coburg on New Year’s Eve. She arrived in Landshut during the second week of January, in 1541.
Ludwig X, Duke of Bavaria; Painted c. 1531.
At the Landshut Residenz, a gilded pleasure palace modeled after the Palazzo del Te in Mantua, Christina’s husband, Ludwig X, formally introduced himself to her. Ludwig X, Christina’s husband, was a hefty man in his mid-forties—with a great brown beard. Anna von Leonsberg, Ludwig’s illegitimate daughter, would later record in her diaries that: “When he first met the princess, Duke Ludwig dressed in his greatest finery. He wore a greatcoat trimmed with white sable. He hung a golden cross around his neck, and he wore a doublet made of black silk etched with gold and silver trim. A jerkin of red silk covered it. He cut a fine figure as he greeted the princess… he announced to her before all the court in booming German: ‘Welcome home, my wife.’ Princess Christina was most solicitous, offering the duke a very low curtesy before she returned his felicitations in equal measure: ‘I am most glad to be home, husband.’ All the court applauded, awed by our new duchess…” Christina and Ludwig were formally married on January 14, 1541, at St. Martin’s Church at Landshut. Ludwig and Christina would spend their honeymoon in Dachau, graciously provided by Wilhelm to his brother in celebration of his nuptials. Though Ludwig found himself enchanted with his beautiful new bride, the feelings were not mutual. “… the new Duchess of Bavaria’s life turned into a whirlwind; she had never led a settled life. From the imperial court in Brussels, she returned to a homeland that she couldn’t even remember. Her father wasted no time in putting her on the marriage market and quickly married her off to the highest (or perhaps most eager?) suitor. bidder. Her marriage had brought her to Bavaria—in Landshut, not Munich. Taken from one of the most glittering courts in all of Europe, she had endured the sterility of her father’s court and now inhabited a court that was provincial.” Christina’s unhappiness and perhaps her loneliness was difficult to miss on that honeymoon in Dachau—ducal servants gossiped about her crying spells and placed bets on when the duke and duchess might argue next. By the end of January, Ludwig and Christina departed Dachau to take up residence in Trausnitz Castle while the building program upon the Landshut Residenz continued.
In Sweden, Gustav had settled easily enough into his marriage with Elisabet. The Navarrese Infanta proved to be a potent accouterment to the Swedish court, and she took her position seriously. While the queen dedicated herself to matters of the royal household and the court, Gustav continued his drive to develop Sweden into a self-reliant kingdom. Gustav nursed hopes that Sweden might someday eclipse Denmark in both Scandinavia and the Baltic, but before that, self-preservation must come first. By 1541, Gustav was heavily indebted to the merchants of Lübeck. Lübeck had suffered its own tumults throughout the 1530s, which had culminated in the restoration of Catholicism and Nikolaus Brömse as Burgomaster. Though Brömse initially supported the cause of the Vasas in the 1520s, Prince John’s help in his restoration firmly tied him to the Danish cause. Brömse did what he could to steady Lübeck’s ship of state—the city dealt with economic issues and continued to press Sweden for the repayment of its debts: the principal stood at nearly 61,000 marks with another 20,000 accumulated in interest. Brömse sent Moritz von Rönnefeld to Sweden with a simple request: pay the king’s debts or offer further privileges. Denmark’s renewed alliance with Lübeck only complicated issues in Sweden, where the Hanseatic city held extensive trading privileges and almost an absolute control over Sweden’s foreign trade. There also continued to be unrest in the provinces, fueled by the heavy burden of taxation that the peasantry bore, alongside innovations in religion—though Gustav had succeeded in his break from Rome and had instituted Lutheran reforms, but many continued to cling to the old faith.
Swedish Army marching out to meet the Dacke Rebels; c. 1540s.
Things came to a head in June 1542, when peasantry led by Nils Dacke rose in Södra Möre in Småland. They assassinated sheriffs and tax collectors, starting what would become known as the Dacke War. Gustav mustered German landsknechts led by Arvid Trolle, but the German troops were unequipped to fight in the rugged forests and suffered heavy losses. Dacke proved to be a potent tactician, and he used defensive tactics, using the peasant’s crossbows to devastating effect. The situation became so serious that Gustav had to sign a truce with Dacke. Dacke reigned freely over most of southern Sweden; he reopened trade with Danish Skåne and re-instituted Catholic ceremonies in the area under his control. Support for Dacke’s cause included Denmark—Christian II remarked that, “Dacke is a staunch believer, and deserves our friendship. His cause is just. He rebels against no true king.” Trade through Skåne allowed the Danish crown to provide provisions and supplies. Further offers of aid came from Germany—with Duke Albrecht VII of Mecklenburg also providing aid. Despite Dacke’s success, the Swedish crown was not prepared to treat Dacke lightly. Sweden intensified their plans against the rebels: they blockaded the roads leading into Småland and areas under Dacke’s control and stopped the trade of all provisions and supplies. The crown also used propaganda to a deadly effect, painting Dacke as a traitor and heretic. Dacke’s base of support also continued to be an issue: while he had the support of the peasantry, the aristocracy and bourgeoisie distrusted his motives. One Småland aristocrat, Måns Johansson, supported the king despite their differences in opinion. He received the responsibility of leading the next military phases.
In January 1543, the Swedish crown broke the truce that had only been in effect for a few months, as the king ordered an even larger army into Småland to put down the rebel forces at any cost. The royal troops moved firstly into Östergötland and Västergötland as they secured the provinces to box in the rebels. By the spring of 1543, Danish support to Dacke became more limited, as Denmark dealt with their own troubles—the outbreak of revolt in Schleswig and Holstein as a reaction to recent edicts passed by Christian II to chip away at the Lutheran Ordinances that still held sway in the twin duchies. Despite these changes, Dacke remained quite confident, and dared to meet the Swedish troops in a pitched battle in March. The hardened Swedish soldiers, fighting on plain ground, shattered the peasant army, and Dacke himself suffered severe injuries in the battle. The Swedish troops all but crushed the rebellion, and they named Dacke an outlaw. Though Dacke escaped, Swedish troops later injured him in the summer of 1543. In August, Swedish troops finally caught up with him and cut him down at a farm near the parish of Gullabo. They posthumously executed Dacke by quartering him and then paraded his limbs around the communities that had supported him in a grisly public display. Gustav mercilessly executed Dacke’s family, including his wife, brother-in-law, and several other relatives.
In Denmark, the so-called German Revolt differed drastically from the Dacke Rebellion. Compared to Denmark, which had long been in a state of religious flux, Schleswig and Holstein had embraced the Reformation as early as the 1520s. Duke Christian, the son of King Frederik, had introduced a Lutheran Church system in 1528. This remained in place even after Christian II’s restoration, though he attacked it from the onset of his return to the throne—replacing Protestant bishops with Catholic ones, and ordering certain properties restored to the church. In late 1542, Christian decreed that the Roman Mass was to be restored across the duchies, provoking a sharp reaction from the German burghers in the region. Urban citizens in Holstein and Schleswig attacked properties and churches that had been restored to the Catholic faith, causing riots to spread throughout the urban areas. They smashed altars, religious relics, and attacked Catholic priests. Christian II immediately reacted and summoned together an army of some 12,000 men to deal with the rebels. John, Christian’s son, had recently arrived in Denmark at his father’s behest and soon took command of the royal forces and put down the rebellion fiercely. By the end of 1543, John had pacified both Schleswig and Holstein. He not only implemented his father’s decrees but ordered a suspension of the 1528 Church Ordinance—in effect dissolving the Lutheran State Church in the twin duchies. John would return in triumph to Denmark, where the people popularly acclaimed him. He presented himself at court as often as he could, but tongues also wagged regarding his growing friendship with a certain Danish noblewoman named Clara Andersdatter, who belonged to the prominent Bille family. “King John often made himself scarce, most especially in the evening,” a member of John’s Yeomen wrote in his private diaries. “When this occurred, we knew well that he did not wish to be found. Everyone knew he frequented the manse of Mistress Bille, his fondest companion.”
Christina’s marriage continued onwards—she acclimated to Landshut, and while she did not love Ludwig, she was in a way fond of him in her own way, enjoying how he often fretted over her. Her marriage endured two years of childlessness, but in 1543 became pregnant for the first time. In her private diaries, one of Christina’s ladies recorded. “The discovery of Duchess Christina’s pregnancy brought happiness to her and the duke. Their young duchess brought joy to all of Landshut, but Duke Wilhelm eagerly awaited in Munich to see if his sister-in-law might deliver a son or a daughter.” Christina’s first son was born in the fall of 1543, at the newly renovated Landshut Residenz, named Albrecht in honor of his grandfather. Following her first pregnancy, Christina proved much more fecund: in 1544, she gave birth to a daughter named Magdalene. Motherhood provided Christina with a vital role in her life, and by early 1545, she discovered she was pregnant for the third time. Ludwig’s declining health overshadowed the happiness that this should have provided Christina. By April 1545, he confined himself to his chambers; and by the end of April, he was dead and within a casket. Christina was no longer a wife, but a widow. Christina soon discovered after Ludwig’s death the worth of her marriage treaty: she sought to have her son Albrecht proclaimed as Duke of Bavaria alongside his uncle—and sought reassurances from Wilhelm IV that Albrecht could inherit the lands formally held by his father.
Christina of Denmark, Dowager Duchess of Bavaria; Painted in 1547.
Some weeks after Ludwig’s death, messengers from Munich arrived and coldly announced that they would not proclaim Albrecht as the Duke of Bavaria. “You cannot deprive my son of his rightful inheritance!” Christina allegedly thundered to the cold Bavarian courtiers that now oversaw her fate. When she attempted to produce her marriage treaty, she encountered only the reality of the situation. “We regret to inform you that nothing written here is the truth,” one of the Bavarian courtiers retorted. “Eysen was desperate to bring about this marriage at any cost—even if it meant through deceit. The Landtag has never altered the succession law. There was no discussion regarding your dower, and even Duke Wilhelm is unawares of these promises to provide you with a pension.” Though Wilhelm was gracious enough to deal with Eysen, who was executed for his duplicity, he showed less generosity regarding Christina’s dower and was intent on taking over Landshut and Straubing. That she technically had no dower put her in desperate straits and gave Wilhelm the entire advantage. The formidable Leonhard von Eck, Wilhelm’s chancellor, proposed an offer of the 15,000 thaler pension per year promised in her wedding contract, with an additional 35,000 thaler per year if Christina agreed to renounce her son’s rights to both Landshut and Straubing. “A most odious offer,” one lady within Christina’s household remarked, but the widowed duchess had little choice: with no support, no allies, and the possibility of no income, she knew must accept the demands put before her. Christina made a formal renunciation at Landshut in June 1545—the day following her renunciation, she received her first pension payment of 50,000 thalers. Wilhelm also put forth a suggestion: Christina could either continue to live in the Landshut Residenz for her lifetime, but he also offered her an open invitation to move into the Munich Residenz, to live closer to her Bavarian family. Christina kindly refused the offer: “Your kindness is paramount,” she wrote in a letter to the duke. “But my heart is here in Landshut… and where it must stay.”
Draped now in her widow weeds, Christina endured the remainder of her third pregnancy in quiet contemplation. Even though Christina had received the pension payment, she knew the reality of such payments: if they paid her next year, it would either be late or not in the amount promised. She did what she could to economize; she shuttered the unused areas of the Residenz and reduced the number of staff she kept down to the bare minimum needed to keep things running. In November 1545, Christina went into labor for the third and final time and successfully delivered a healthy baby boy. She named him Ludwig as a tribute to his deceased father. Christina now faced a very uncertain future; a Danish princess in a foreign country, she had little resources and now three children to care for. In desperation, she penned a letter to her father, where she beseeched his protection and favor now that her husband was gone and buried. Christian’s response returned to Christina swiftly, filled with florid words and vows of protection, but it was the line at the very end that meant the most: return to us—and return to us with your children, who shall enjoy our protection.
[1] He survives here, rather than Georg.
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Glad to have been of help! Interesting to see the ideas you went with 
It’ll be interesting when we get to our other ideas
(Also looking forwards to any beetle jokes headed towards Clara)
It’ll be interesting when we get to our other ideas(Also looking forwards to any beetle jokes headed towards Clara)
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Partners in crime I see!Glad to have been of help! Interesting to see the ideas you went with