Anno Obumbratio: A 16th Century Alternate History
- Thread starter DrakeRlugia
- Start date
Congratulations - and thanks for the new chapter, I am frantically catching up on all my favourite TLs after having been lost in the rabbit hole of GOT fan fiction for the last week!
Congrats on the Turtledove!
Was the German revolt the main reason Christian didnt support Dacke and his rebels more? I wonder if Christian could have negotiated some kind of deal with Dacke to be recognized as his king in return for more support and maybe something like Smaland viceroy.
Was the German revolt the main reason Christian didnt support Dacke and his rebels more? I wonder if Christian could have negotiated some kind of deal with Dacke to be recognized as his king in return for more support and maybe something like Smaland viceroy.
Thank you!
Yes, the revolt in Schleswig-Holstein meant that greater resources had to be diverted towards dealing with that, which sapped support that Christian had available to give to Dacke. Christian's own finances are not in the best situation: Denmark is still recovering from the Count's Feud and royal finances are in disarray. Without those troubles, Danish support would've likely been more vigorous, but it's hard to say if Dacke would still make the right choices: his defensive tactics worked wonders, but he later tried to fight the Swedish troops in a pitched battle and his troops were absolutely decimated.
Christian absolutely retains his claim to Sweden and sees Gustav and the Vasas as usurpers.
Chapter 35. St. Wenceslas & St. Stephen
Chapter 35. St. Wenceslas & St. Stephen
1535-1543; Bohemia, Germany, & Hungary.
“How could I bear a crown of gold when the Lord bears a crown of thorns? And bears it for me!”
— St. Elizabeth of Hungary
Musical Accompaniment: Townfolk's Dance
Prague Castle; c. 17th century.
The success of the Battle of Grafenwörth, which had seen imperial troops triumph over the Ottoman Turks, profoundly affected the Kingdoms of Bohemia and Hungary. In Bohemia, Queen Regent Mary of Austria would return from Teplitz to Prague in 1535 with the young Queen Elisabeth in tow. “Upon their return, Queen Mary and Elisabeth received popular acclaim from the capital.” Wenceslaus Hajek, a Bohemian chronicler, would write in a letter to a friend. “All the city turned out—from the highest aristocrat to the lowest laborer to cheer them upon their rightful return.” This proved to be the epoch of Mary’s popularity in Bohemia; while she had always been genuinely beloved, people now saw a different side to her. She could have easily turned tail and fled when the Turks had besieged Vienna. Instead, she remained in Bohemia. This shift in support gave Mary unprecedented political influence—not only over the royal council but also in the Bohemian Diet, where, for the first time, she gained genuine political allies. With her popularity soaring, Mary seized the opportunity to consolidate her political influence. By reshuffling the royal council, she strategically placed her trusted allies, many of whom shared her Protestant faith, in critical positions of power. This bold move solidified her control over the decision-making process and signaled her intent to bring about a religious reformation in Bohemia.
Bohemia’s religious reformation began in the fifteenth century, with the Hussites pioneering ideas that Martin Luther would later explore. By the 1530s, Bohemia’s religious makeup was quite diverse: while the Utraquists remained dominant in the urban areas and there were adherents to the Catholic faith, Lutheranism also spread quickly. Though enticed by Luther’s teachings, Mary desired to meld his teachings—and those taught by other reformers—with Hussite teachings. “There is no need to break the wheel.” Mary wrote in a letter to her chaplain, Matthias Dévai Biro. “We broke the wheel here long ago—we must fix it so it can never break again.” Rather than begin from nothing, Mary wished to use the Utraquists as a vehicle to create a Protestant Church in Bohemia that embraced its genuinely unique heritage and history. After Mary returned to Prague, theologians spread out to Wittenburg, Zürich, Geneva, and Alsace. They met with Protestant theologians and gathered information on their specific outlooks and teachings, both the good and the bad.
Despite Mary’s lofty ideals for a change in the kingdom, her primary concern rested upon her daughter—little Queen Elisabeth. By 1535, she was ten years old, and the queen regent took a great interest in her education. Joining Ambrosius Moibanus, Bohuslav Bílejovský, a Utraquist priest, became a tutor in history and Czech for Elisabeth’s household. The impending marriage of Elisabeth burdened Mary’s mind, as she was growing up fast and would soon require a husband. The Capitulations of Prague made the issue more complex by giving the Bohemian Diet the ultimate authority over any potential marriage agreement. Mary knew very well that Charles wanted Elisabeth to marry his oldest son, Maximilian—but Charles remained devoted to his Catholic beliefs. Mary wondered: could she sacrifice her daughter’s future and potential salvation for the mere opportunity to become empress? As Mary shifted her focus away from the potential of an imperial match, she contemplated the possibility of a marriage that would align more favorably with her plans: a union with the Wettins of Saxony. In 1537, Mary dispatched an envoy to Saxony with her proposals.
Elisabeth Jagiellonica, c. 1535; AI Generated.
Mary’s triumphant return to Prague directly countered John Zápolya’s failures in the aftermath of Grafenwörth. With his army vanquished, Zápolya returned home to a kingdom that had exhausted much of its worth and was on the verge of financial ruin. Zápolya, under the control of the Turks, had to endure the full force of Sultan Suleiman’s anger as he withdrew through Hungary. This included extracting a heavy toll of ƒ15,000 from the already impoverished Hungarian treasury, with Turkish troops stationed in various fortresses of southern Hungary. To add insult to injury, the Turks stationed the janissaries in Buda Castle to safeguard the King of Hungary. However, it was clear to all that their true agenda was further subjugating Zápolya to the Ottoman Empire. “The campaign’s conclusion in Germany marked a turning point for King John,” one Hungarian historian would write a century later. “He returned home with a demeanor that no longer reflected his status as a heroic king.” Anna of Hungary, Zápolya’s wife, did what she could to raise his spirits, but to little avail. “He frets daily,” Anna wrote in a letter to her favored lady-in-waiting, Sofia Cékei. “All the world’s concerns weigh heavily upon him, and there is naught I can do for him. His greatest worry is that of the succession… I pray and pray, asking that God grant me a son.” Anna had given Zápolya five daughters—but not a son. Like Mary, Anna had found solace in the teachings of the reformation and sought to break Hungary away from the Catholic Church. John Sylvester, appointed court preacher, extorted daily in his sermons that Hungary must break away from the slavish superstitions of the Catholic faith. Anna led the charge in this fight—she added further relics from the royal treasury into the bonfires hosted by Sylvester, and the queen’s private chapel was stripped of its Marian devotionals.
Anna felt redeemed in her newfound faith—and rewarded, too, when, in 1536, she discovered she was pregnant. In the fall of 1536, she gave birth to the long-awaited heir—John Louis. “The little prince was pink and sickly looking,” one courtier remarked in a letter to his father. “King John had the young prince baptized soon after his birth at Matthias Church—a wholly Protestant ceremony headed by John Sylvester.” Despite the jubilation surrounding the birth of Hungary’s heir, the little princeling named after his father and deceased uncle did not thrive and suffered regularly from colds and fits that worried Anna. Despite this, Zápolya pushed forward, and in 1537, he summoned the Hungarian Diet to assemble at Besztercebánya. The diet had not gathered since 1532, and though Zápolya kept the loyalty of many of the lower gentry and the commons, many were wavering because of the fiasco of Grafenwörth. Though Zápolya saw himself as no religious martyr, he saw the effectiveness of John Sylvester’s sermons—and how mesmerized his wife was. Zápolya knew it was plain: to keep his crown, he needed to appease his people and offer a scapegoat. The Catholic Church was the perfect target. Hungary’s 1537 Diet became known as the Reformation Diet—primarily because of its focus on religious issues. The first laws abolished papal authority within the kingdom while suspending the clergy’s liberties to appeal to Rome. As a further innovation, the Hungarian crown confiscated the clerical revenues from vacant sees.
Bohemia, too, was on the cusp of significant changes. Nikolaus von Prittwitz, Mary’s envoy, arrived secretly in Torgau. When he finally met with the elector, people whispered anxiously about what had occurred during their secret meeting. “…von Prittwitz possessed two letters upon him, stamped with the queen regent’s royal seal,” one courtier recalled decades later in his memoirs—written from recollections. “One allegedly contained an offer of marriage between the Queen of Bohemia and the elector’s eldest son and heir—Johann Friedrich. … some have said the second offer was the same, but exchanging the elector’s son for his younger brother, Johann Ernst. Of course, more scandalous stories developed; the queen regent herself had proposed marriage to the elector, provided he would divorce his wife, the Electress Sybille…which he would not.” Negotiations continued for two months, culminating in the secret Treaty of Torgau. Mary agreed to a betrothal between her daughter and the elector’s eldest son—promising a dowry of ƒ60,000. The elector consented to have the treaty sealed in Torgau until Mary could bring the issue before the diet. Until then, more significant matters awaited the regent—there would still be much time before Elisabeth was old enough to wed, and Mary had no intention of her daughter going to the altar until she was ready. Throughout 1538 to 1541, Mary received information from across Europe from the theologians she had sent abroad—along with chiding letters from her relatives. Emperor Charles wrote to his sister, kindly but sternly: “You must tread lightly in the things that you meddle in… I have heard of your little priests, from Saxony to Switzerland, even in Alsace. What madness do you seek? I abhor to see my sister swallowed by lies, and know that I pray for you every day…” While a letter from Empress Renée proved more supportive: “I applaud what you do—and only wish that I could be bolder in my own beliefs. Alas, I still live in secrecy and must endure the terrors of the Roman Mass. I have written to Monsieur Calvin et al. They shall furnish what you need. I have instructed my fellow believers in my household to send you whatever you desire.”
Stag Hunt of the Saxon Elector; c. 1544.
Of course, Charles was not without cunning. The emperor had planted someone close to Mary—Wilhelm von Roggendorf, who served as Mary’s Hofmeister and the emperor’s spy, his eyes, and ears in the court of Prague. While Roggendorf closed his eyes to some issues concerning the empress, those that concerned the marriage of the Queen of Bohemia were of greater importance. “This marriage cannot and must not come to fruition,” Charles wrote in a letter coded to Roggendorf. “It shall be our doom and the triumph of the Protestants if it does. You must orient my sister back towards our family; the marriage of Maximilian and Elisabeth must happen—if it does not, I cannot imagine the calamity.” Roggendorf urged the emperor towards calm—he reminded the emperor not only of his loyalty but his political ability, too. “I shall work towards this match until my dying day,” Roggendorf wrote in a letter to Charles. “I will not rest until your son is the next King of Bohemia.” Roggendorf encouraged Charles to ingratiate himself carefully and quietly with the Bohemian nobility—through funds, favors, and promises—whatever was available to win them over to his cause. While Mary planned her grand changes, her brother lurked in the shadows, seeking to push forward his agenda and marriage plans.
If Teplitz had proved an awakening for Mary—it was Jean Calvin who truly helped open her eyes. They corresponded frequently; he pressed Mary that now was the time to bring about the change Bohemia needed. The so-called Majestic Diet was summoned in 1539, summoned to gather at Prague Castle. Aside from Mary as queen regent, Queen Elisabeth was also in attendance. “At fourteen, the young queen was exquisite. She had inherited her mother’s coloring but resembled her august father,” one diet member would write in his private journal. “She dressed in the German fashion; a dress of green and white silk; upon her head sat the Crown of Saint Wenceslas… yet beside her sat the Holy Crown of Hungary—a testament to her heritage and rights.” Before all the diet, Mary took her stand, knowing it was her chance to bear her heart to all who would listen: “Milords, I must thank you, for I shall always be in your debt. I came into this kingdom over ten years ago, penniless and with a babe. It is you who provided us succor and shelter—you who allowed us to fight for what is rightfully my daughters. I wish not to be known as a spendthrift or poor in the care I have provided to my daughter’s throne; when she comes of age, by God’s Grace, I wish to leave her a kingdom that is better than it was before she was born…” Mary’s speech would last over two hours to the enraptured delegates as she spoke of the kingdom’s place in history, comparing the Hussites and what they shared with the reformers now changing Europe’s religious landscape. “Over a century ago,” Mary thundered from her pulpit. “They condemned and burned Jan Hus for what Luther and Calvin have now suggested. Other princes have made changes within their dominions—there is no reason we cannot as well. But rather than reformation, I suggest renewal… let us finish what has already begun.”
When Mary finished, she presented the so-called Patent of Majesty to the diet. The patent outlined Bohemia’s religious future, the creation of a national church, the Hussite Reformed Church. The Bohemian Creed outlined in the patent was neo-Hussite in outlook, blending the teachings of Jan Hus with those of Luther and Calvin—incorporating the conception of justification by faith alone, the priesthood of all believers, and the sovereignty of God. In terms of organization, they would abolish the episcopate and replace it with the so-called Consistory of Bohemia, which would provide oversight. Below the Consistory of Bohemia would be the so-called Lower Consistories, such as Prague, with additional ones created for Olomouc in Moravia, Breslau in Silesia, Görlitz in Upper Lusatia, and Lübben for Lower Lusatia. The lower consistories would be functionally autonomous and in control of the administration of the churches within their respective regions.
Martin Luther and the Circle of Reformers; c. 17th Century.
Regarding monasteries, the Patent of Majesty called for the seizure of the wealthiest monasteries still within the kingdom while banning new novices in smaller communities. For monasteries ruined in the previous century, such as Sazava and Sedlec, the patent outlined their restoration to become churches, schools, or seminaries for new pastors. The Patent of Majesty clearly outlined Mary’s views—seeking to unite the Utraquists with the burgeoning reformation movement. Catholics within the diet shouted down the patent with cries of heresy. The Supreme Burgrave restored order—who ordered the diet to put the patent to the vote. Mary’s appeal heightened emotions, but the diet duly adopted the Patent of Majesty. Mary’s primary support came from the Utraquist nobility, who valued their traditions and autonomy, and the Protestant burghers and commons, who sought a complete break from Rome.
In Hungary, Queen Anna could rejoice in 1539 when she was once more pregnant. Tragedy soon overshadowed her joy when young John Louis suffered from a fit and died. While his health had never been the best, Anna suffered terribly—and for a time, her ladies fretted after her health and even her sanity. “The queen wailed and wailed—it was impossible to console her when she learned of the death of her son,” one lady wrote in a private letter home. “She has lost her sanity. When she is not crying, she is screaming, cursing her fate and her womb.” Despite the dark clouds that hung over the queen, she gave birth in the spring of 1539 to another boy—named John Vladislaus in honor of his father and grandfather. Compared with his elder brother, who had passed away, John Vladislaus seemed increasingly robust—a fact that pleased his father. “He shall be a warrior,” Zápolya uttered after his second son’s birth. “He shall be Hungary’s true savior.” Like John Louis, John Vladislaus underwent baptism shortly after his birth.
Once again, Anna had secured the Hungarian succession. Zápolya could rest easy—and courtiers wondered if he should do so—with several noting that the king seemed unlike his usual self. As 1539 faded into 1540, John Zápolya remained in a decent state. In May 1540, Anna could announce to the court that she was once more pregnant—the specter of little John Louis finally exorcised. This changed in July 1540, when John Zápolya expired from a burst belly. Little John Vladislaus succeeded his father as John II Vladislaus, but Anna could not help but worry about what might come next. Anna had no issue securing the regency for her son; she made no overt changes to her husband’s former council, and by November, she retired to her chambers, giving birth to her last child: a son that she named Stephen.
Queen Regent Anna Jagiellon holding her son, King John II Vladislaus; AI Generated.
While Anna sought to secure control over Hungary’s regency, the death of Zápolya spread across Hungary’s borders—soon reaching Prague and the ear of Mary. “God is gracious,” Mary exclaimed when she received the news. “The usurper has died… and a painful death, at that. He leaves behind a young babe and a wife unfit to reign over a nursery, let alone the kingdom of Hungary. This is the chance for Elisabeth to claim what is rightly hers.” Despite the upheavals of the 1530s, some in Hungary still supported Queen Elisabeth’s rights, even if many of the great magnates had perished. However, The Bohemian Diet proved recalcitrant in funding another foreign adventure in Hungary. Instead, Mary looked towards the Welser banking house—seeking to arrange a loan of ƒ400,000 using the Holy Crown of Hungary as collateral. Mary also sought support abroad from her brothers and the Protestant princes in Germany, seeking to paint her daughter’s claims through a religious lens despite Hungary undergoing their own religious shift. Mary’s support from her brothers was tepid at best—Charles dealt with deteriorating relations with France, while Ferdinand focused on the Mediterranean. Even within Germany, Mary did not find the support she needed—even the Elector of Saxony did little, despite the Treaty of Torgau—he offered Mary a small loan of some ƒ12,000. He also agreed that she could recruit soldiers from within the electorate.
In her quest for support, Anna faced a challenge—the Turkish troops in Hungary were not under her command, while Suleiman campaigned in the east, seeking to avenge the Persian sack of Tbilisi. Although Anna knew she could not fully trust the Turks, she had faith in their crucial role in containing any potential invasion. In addition, Anna sent envoys to France and Poland—despite France’s lack of previous help, Anna was optimistic that they might seek to oppose Habsburg ambitions. She hoped that familial ties to Poland would provide further support. Anna soon signed the Treaty of Krakow with her uncle, Sigismund II, and he agreed to provide secret aid to her cause. Of greater significance, they arranged a marriage between John II Vladislaus and Princess Barbara of Poland, who was the granddaughter of Sigismund through his second son, Alexander, and his wife, Margarete of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel. The French proved more supportive than they had previously—and agreed to provide a unit of artillery to support the remnants of Zápolya’s army. Despite Anna’s diplomatic plays, she was in a much weaker position; Mary took advantage of that to strike first, tossing a match onto what would become known as the Little War in Hungary.
Siege of Buda, 1541; AI Generated.
Heinrich II, Duke of Münsterberg-Oels, commanded the Bohemian army, while Francis Ernuszt, a Hungarian noble still serving Mary, received command of the German Landsknechts. The Bohemian troops numbered some 38,000 men with around 60 cannons. Mary’s troops rushed through Hungary, occupying Pozsony. By the summer of 1541, Mary’s troops began the Siege of Buda, placing the former royal capital under siege. Anna and her children had retreated before the Bohemian armies—taking up residence at Szeged alongside the janissary garrison. Heinrich and Francis did not work well together, resulting in poor management of the siege. Anna’s appeals to Sultan Suleiman did not go unnoticed; once he had settled matters in the east, Suleiman took personal command of a relief force to prop up his Hungarian vassal—the troop numbered some 50,000 men, including 7000 janissaries. By September 1541, Suleiman engaged the Bohemian army in a catastrophic loss for the Bohemians, with 20,000 men slaughtered or drowned in the river. Heinrich himself suffered a terrible injury in the retreat that would render him lame for the rest of his life. The Ottoman troops soon occupied Buda with a trick: They invited Anna, the infant John II Vladislaus, and a retinue of Hungarian noblemen to the sultan’s tent. While Suleiman conferred with Anna, Turkish troops slowly entered Buda Castle and other fortifications, acting as simple tourists merely interested in the architecture. When the Hungarians were at ease, the Turkish forces turned their weapons against the Hungarians—disarming the guards and garrison of the city as they took full command of Buda Castle. As this occurred, the Hungarian nobility meeting within Suleiman’s tent sought to leave. Out of nowhere, the sultan cried: “The black soup is yet to come!” A signal for the Turkish troops within the tent to disarm the Hungarian noblemen.
The cards had turned, and Anna now saw the dangerous situation for what it was. Though Suleiman had seized control of Buda, he was prepared to be magnanimous. “The devil has sparred us today,” Anna would write in a shaky hand to Sofia Cékei. “Though he occupies our city and intends to hold it, he agreed to allow me, the king, the royal court, the nobles, and even the citizens of Buda—from the greatest to the meanest to leave the city unharmed.” The circumstances forced Anna and her court to seek refuge behind the Carpathian Mountains in Gyulafehérvár, where she would appropriate the episcopal palace for her court. Bohemian troops would attempt to besiege Buda again in 1542—but the Turks would firmly repulse them again.
The cinders of war would once more begin to spread throughout Europe as Mary sought to assert her daughter’s birthright, with conflict rising between France and the Empire again. At the same time, religious troubles continued to spread and bleed across Germany.
1535-1543; Bohemia, Germany, & Hungary.
“How could I bear a crown of gold when the Lord bears a crown of thorns? And bears it for me!”
— St. Elizabeth of Hungary
Musical Accompaniment: Townfolk's Dance
The success of the Battle of Grafenwörth, which had seen imperial troops triumph over the Ottoman Turks, profoundly affected the Kingdoms of Bohemia and Hungary. In Bohemia, Queen Regent Mary of Austria would return from Teplitz to Prague in 1535 with the young Queen Elisabeth in tow. “Upon their return, Queen Mary and Elisabeth received popular acclaim from the capital.” Wenceslaus Hajek, a Bohemian chronicler, would write in a letter to a friend. “All the city turned out—from the highest aristocrat to the lowest laborer to cheer them upon their rightful return.” This proved to be the epoch of Mary’s popularity in Bohemia; while she had always been genuinely beloved, people now saw a different side to her. She could have easily turned tail and fled when the Turks had besieged Vienna. Instead, she remained in Bohemia. This shift in support gave Mary unprecedented political influence—not only over the royal council but also in the Bohemian Diet, where, for the first time, she gained genuine political allies. With her popularity soaring, Mary seized the opportunity to consolidate her political influence. By reshuffling the royal council, she strategically placed her trusted allies, many of whom shared her Protestant faith, in critical positions of power. This bold move solidified her control over the decision-making process and signaled her intent to bring about a religious reformation in Bohemia.
Bohemia’s religious reformation began in the fifteenth century, with the Hussites pioneering ideas that Martin Luther would later explore. By the 1530s, Bohemia’s religious makeup was quite diverse: while the Utraquists remained dominant in the urban areas and there were adherents to the Catholic faith, Lutheranism also spread quickly. Though enticed by Luther’s teachings, Mary desired to meld his teachings—and those taught by other reformers—with Hussite teachings. “There is no need to break the wheel.” Mary wrote in a letter to her chaplain, Matthias Dévai Biro. “We broke the wheel here long ago—we must fix it so it can never break again.” Rather than begin from nothing, Mary wished to use the Utraquists as a vehicle to create a Protestant Church in Bohemia that embraced its genuinely unique heritage and history. After Mary returned to Prague, theologians spread out to Wittenburg, Zürich, Geneva, and Alsace. They met with Protestant theologians and gathered information on their specific outlooks and teachings, both the good and the bad.
Despite Mary’s lofty ideals for a change in the kingdom, her primary concern rested upon her daughter—little Queen Elisabeth. By 1535, she was ten years old, and the queen regent took a great interest in her education. Joining Ambrosius Moibanus, Bohuslav Bílejovský, a Utraquist priest, became a tutor in history and Czech for Elisabeth’s household. The impending marriage of Elisabeth burdened Mary’s mind, as she was growing up fast and would soon require a husband. The Capitulations of Prague made the issue more complex by giving the Bohemian Diet the ultimate authority over any potential marriage agreement. Mary knew very well that Charles wanted Elisabeth to marry his oldest son, Maximilian—but Charles remained devoted to his Catholic beliefs. Mary wondered: could she sacrifice her daughter’s future and potential salvation for the mere opportunity to become empress? As Mary shifted her focus away from the potential of an imperial match, she contemplated the possibility of a marriage that would align more favorably with her plans: a union with the Wettins of Saxony. In 1537, Mary dispatched an envoy to Saxony with her proposals.
Elisabeth Jagiellonica, c. 1535; AI Generated.
Mary’s triumphant return to Prague directly countered John Zápolya’s failures in the aftermath of Grafenwörth. With his army vanquished, Zápolya returned home to a kingdom that had exhausted much of its worth and was on the verge of financial ruin. Zápolya, under the control of the Turks, had to endure the full force of Sultan Suleiman’s anger as he withdrew through Hungary. This included extracting a heavy toll of ƒ15,000 from the already impoverished Hungarian treasury, with Turkish troops stationed in various fortresses of southern Hungary. To add insult to injury, the Turks stationed the janissaries in Buda Castle to safeguard the King of Hungary. However, it was clear to all that their true agenda was further subjugating Zápolya to the Ottoman Empire. “The campaign’s conclusion in Germany marked a turning point for King John,” one Hungarian historian would write a century later. “He returned home with a demeanor that no longer reflected his status as a heroic king.” Anna of Hungary, Zápolya’s wife, did what she could to raise his spirits, but to little avail. “He frets daily,” Anna wrote in a letter to her favored lady-in-waiting, Sofia Cékei. “All the world’s concerns weigh heavily upon him, and there is naught I can do for him. His greatest worry is that of the succession… I pray and pray, asking that God grant me a son.” Anna had given Zápolya five daughters—but not a son. Like Mary, Anna had found solace in the teachings of the reformation and sought to break Hungary away from the Catholic Church. John Sylvester, appointed court preacher, extorted daily in his sermons that Hungary must break away from the slavish superstitions of the Catholic faith. Anna led the charge in this fight—she added further relics from the royal treasury into the bonfires hosted by Sylvester, and the queen’s private chapel was stripped of its Marian devotionals.
Anna felt redeemed in her newfound faith—and rewarded, too, when, in 1536, she discovered she was pregnant. In the fall of 1536, she gave birth to the long-awaited heir—John Louis. “The little prince was pink and sickly looking,” one courtier remarked in a letter to his father. “King John had the young prince baptized soon after his birth at Matthias Church—a wholly Protestant ceremony headed by John Sylvester.” Despite the jubilation surrounding the birth of Hungary’s heir, the little princeling named after his father and deceased uncle did not thrive and suffered regularly from colds and fits that worried Anna. Despite this, Zápolya pushed forward, and in 1537, he summoned the Hungarian Diet to assemble at Besztercebánya. The diet had not gathered since 1532, and though Zápolya kept the loyalty of many of the lower gentry and the commons, many were wavering because of the fiasco of Grafenwörth. Though Zápolya saw himself as no religious martyr, he saw the effectiveness of John Sylvester’s sermons—and how mesmerized his wife was. Zápolya knew it was plain: to keep his crown, he needed to appease his people and offer a scapegoat. The Catholic Church was the perfect target. Hungary’s 1537 Diet became known as the Reformation Diet—primarily because of its focus on religious issues. The first laws abolished papal authority within the kingdom while suspending the clergy’s liberties to appeal to Rome. As a further innovation, the Hungarian crown confiscated the clerical revenues from vacant sees.
Bohemia, too, was on the cusp of significant changes. Nikolaus von Prittwitz, Mary’s envoy, arrived secretly in Torgau. When he finally met with the elector, people whispered anxiously about what had occurred during their secret meeting. “…von Prittwitz possessed two letters upon him, stamped with the queen regent’s royal seal,” one courtier recalled decades later in his memoirs—written from recollections. “One allegedly contained an offer of marriage between the Queen of Bohemia and the elector’s eldest son and heir—Johann Friedrich. … some have said the second offer was the same, but exchanging the elector’s son for his younger brother, Johann Ernst. Of course, more scandalous stories developed; the queen regent herself had proposed marriage to the elector, provided he would divorce his wife, the Electress Sybille…which he would not.” Negotiations continued for two months, culminating in the secret Treaty of Torgau. Mary agreed to a betrothal between her daughter and the elector’s eldest son—promising a dowry of ƒ60,000. The elector consented to have the treaty sealed in Torgau until Mary could bring the issue before the diet. Until then, more significant matters awaited the regent—there would still be much time before Elisabeth was old enough to wed, and Mary had no intention of her daughter going to the altar until she was ready. Throughout 1538 to 1541, Mary received information from across Europe from the theologians she had sent abroad—along with chiding letters from her relatives. Emperor Charles wrote to his sister, kindly but sternly: “You must tread lightly in the things that you meddle in… I have heard of your little priests, from Saxony to Switzerland, even in Alsace. What madness do you seek? I abhor to see my sister swallowed by lies, and know that I pray for you every day…” While a letter from Empress Renée proved more supportive: “I applaud what you do—and only wish that I could be bolder in my own beliefs. Alas, I still live in secrecy and must endure the terrors of the Roman Mass. I have written to Monsieur Calvin et al. They shall furnish what you need. I have instructed my fellow believers in my household to send you whatever you desire.”
Stag Hunt of the Saxon Elector; c. 1544.
Of course, Charles was not without cunning. The emperor had planted someone close to Mary—Wilhelm von Roggendorf, who served as Mary’s Hofmeister and the emperor’s spy, his eyes, and ears in the court of Prague. While Roggendorf closed his eyes to some issues concerning the empress, those that concerned the marriage of the Queen of Bohemia were of greater importance. “This marriage cannot and must not come to fruition,” Charles wrote in a letter coded to Roggendorf. “It shall be our doom and the triumph of the Protestants if it does. You must orient my sister back towards our family; the marriage of Maximilian and Elisabeth must happen—if it does not, I cannot imagine the calamity.” Roggendorf urged the emperor towards calm—he reminded the emperor not only of his loyalty but his political ability, too. “I shall work towards this match until my dying day,” Roggendorf wrote in a letter to Charles. “I will not rest until your son is the next King of Bohemia.” Roggendorf encouraged Charles to ingratiate himself carefully and quietly with the Bohemian nobility—through funds, favors, and promises—whatever was available to win them over to his cause. While Mary planned her grand changes, her brother lurked in the shadows, seeking to push forward his agenda and marriage plans.
If Teplitz had proved an awakening for Mary—it was Jean Calvin who truly helped open her eyes. They corresponded frequently; he pressed Mary that now was the time to bring about the change Bohemia needed. The so-called Majestic Diet was summoned in 1539, summoned to gather at Prague Castle. Aside from Mary as queen regent, Queen Elisabeth was also in attendance. “At fourteen, the young queen was exquisite. She had inherited her mother’s coloring but resembled her august father,” one diet member would write in his private journal. “She dressed in the German fashion; a dress of green and white silk; upon her head sat the Crown of Saint Wenceslas… yet beside her sat the Holy Crown of Hungary—a testament to her heritage and rights.” Before all the diet, Mary took her stand, knowing it was her chance to bear her heart to all who would listen: “Milords, I must thank you, for I shall always be in your debt. I came into this kingdom over ten years ago, penniless and with a babe. It is you who provided us succor and shelter—you who allowed us to fight for what is rightfully my daughters. I wish not to be known as a spendthrift or poor in the care I have provided to my daughter’s throne; when she comes of age, by God’s Grace, I wish to leave her a kingdom that is better than it was before she was born…” Mary’s speech would last over two hours to the enraptured delegates as she spoke of the kingdom’s place in history, comparing the Hussites and what they shared with the reformers now changing Europe’s religious landscape. “Over a century ago,” Mary thundered from her pulpit. “They condemned and burned Jan Hus for what Luther and Calvin have now suggested. Other princes have made changes within their dominions—there is no reason we cannot as well. But rather than reformation, I suggest renewal… let us finish what has already begun.”
When Mary finished, she presented the so-called Patent of Majesty to the diet. The patent outlined Bohemia’s religious future, the creation of a national church, the Hussite Reformed Church. The Bohemian Creed outlined in the patent was neo-Hussite in outlook, blending the teachings of Jan Hus with those of Luther and Calvin—incorporating the conception of justification by faith alone, the priesthood of all believers, and the sovereignty of God. In terms of organization, they would abolish the episcopate and replace it with the so-called Consistory of Bohemia, which would provide oversight. Below the Consistory of Bohemia would be the so-called Lower Consistories, such as Prague, with additional ones created for Olomouc in Moravia, Breslau in Silesia, Görlitz in Upper Lusatia, and Lübben for Lower Lusatia. The lower consistories would be functionally autonomous and in control of the administration of the churches within their respective regions.
Martin Luther and the Circle of Reformers; c. 17th Century.
Regarding monasteries, the Patent of Majesty called for the seizure of the wealthiest monasteries still within the kingdom while banning new novices in smaller communities. For monasteries ruined in the previous century, such as Sazava and Sedlec, the patent outlined their restoration to become churches, schools, or seminaries for new pastors. The Patent of Majesty clearly outlined Mary’s views—seeking to unite the Utraquists with the burgeoning reformation movement. Catholics within the diet shouted down the patent with cries of heresy. The Supreme Burgrave restored order—who ordered the diet to put the patent to the vote. Mary’s appeal heightened emotions, but the diet duly adopted the Patent of Majesty. Mary’s primary support came from the Utraquist nobility, who valued their traditions and autonomy, and the Protestant burghers and commons, who sought a complete break from Rome.
In Hungary, Queen Anna could rejoice in 1539 when she was once more pregnant. Tragedy soon overshadowed her joy when young John Louis suffered from a fit and died. While his health had never been the best, Anna suffered terribly—and for a time, her ladies fretted after her health and even her sanity. “The queen wailed and wailed—it was impossible to console her when she learned of the death of her son,” one lady wrote in a private letter home. “She has lost her sanity. When she is not crying, she is screaming, cursing her fate and her womb.” Despite the dark clouds that hung over the queen, she gave birth in the spring of 1539 to another boy—named John Vladislaus in honor of his father and grandfather. Compared with his elder brother, who had passed away, John Vladislaus seemed increasingly robust—a fact that pleased his father. “He shall be a warrior,” Zápolya uttered after his second son’s birth. “He shall be Hungary’s true savior.” Like John Louis, John Vladislaus underwent baptism shortly after his birth.
Once again, Anna had secured the Hungarian succession. Zápolya could rest easy—and courtiers wondered if he should do so—with several noting that the king seemed unlike his usual self. As 1539 faded into 1540, John Zápolya remained in a decent state. In May 1540, Anna could announce to the court that she was once more pregnant—the specter of little John Louis finally exorcised. This changed in July 1540, when John Zápolya expired from a burst belly. Little John Vladislaus succeeded his father as John II Vladislaus, but Anna could not help but worry about what might come next. Anna had no issue securing the regency for her son; she made no overt changes to her husband’s former council, and by November, she retired to her chambers, giving birth to her last child: a son that she named Stephen.
Queen Regent Anna Jagiellon holding her son, King John II Vladislaus; AI Generated.
While Anna sought to secure control over Hungary’s regency, the death of Zápolya spread across Hungary’s borders—soon reaching Prague and the ear of Mary. “God is gracious,” Mary exclaimed when she received the news. “The usurper has died… and a painful death, at that. He leaves behind a young babe and a wife unfit to reign over a nursery, let alone the kingdom of Hungary. This is the chance for Elisabeth to claim what is rightly hers.” Despite the upheavals of the 1530s, some in Hungary still supported Queen Elisabeth’s rights, even if many of the great magnates had perished. However, The Bohemian Diet proved recalcitrant in funding another foreign adventure in Hungary. Instead, Mary looked towards the Welser banking house—seeking to arrange a loan of ƒ400,000 using the Holy Crown of Hungary as collateral. Mary also sought support abroad from her brothers and the Protestant princes in Germany, seeking to paint her daughter’s claims through a religious lens despite Hungary undergoing their own religious shift. Mary’s support from her brothers was tepid at best—Charles dealt with deteriorating relations with France, while Ferdinand focused on the Mediterranean. Even within Germany, Mary did not find the support she needed—even the Elector of Saxony did little, despite the Treaty of Torgau—he offered Mary a small loan of some ƒ12,000. He also agreed that she could recruit soldiers from within the electorate.
In her quest for support, Anna faced a challenge—the Turkish troops in Hungary were not under her command, while Suleiman campaigned in the east, seeking to avenge the Persian sack of Tbilisi. Although Anna knew she could not fully trust the Turks, she had faith in their crucial role in containing any potential invasion. In addition, Anna sent envoys to France and Poland—despite France’s lack of previous help, Anna was optimistic that they might seek to oppose Habsburg ambitions. She hoped that familial ties to Poland would provide further support. Anna soon signed the Treaty of Krakow with her uncle, Sigismund II, and he agreed to provide secret aid to her cause. Of greater significance, they arranged a marriage between John II Vladislaus and Princess Barbara of Poland, who was the granddaughter of Sigismund through his second son, Alexander, and his wife, Margarete of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel. The French proved more supportive than they had previously—and agreed to provide a unit of artillery to support the remnants of Zápolya’s army. Despite Anna’s diplomatic plays, she was in a much weaker position; Mary took advantage of that to strike first, tossing a match onto what would become known as the Little War in Hungary.
Siege of Buda, 1541; AI Generated.
Heinrich II, Duke of Münsterberg-Oels, commanded the Bohemian army, while Francis Ernuszt, a Hungarian noble still serving Mary, received command of the German Landsknechts. The Bohemian troops numbered some 38,000 men with around 60 cannons. Mary’s troops rushed through Hungary, occupying Pozsony. By the summer of 1541, Mary’s troops began the Siege of Buda, placing the former royal capital under siege. Anna and her children had retreated before the Bohemian armies—taking up residence at Szeged alongside the janissary garrison. Heinrich and Francis did not work well together, resulting in poor management of the siege. Anna’s appeals to Sultan Suleiman did not go unnoticed; once he had settled matters in the east, Suleiman took personal command of a relief force to prop up his Hungarian vassal—the troop numbered some 50,000 men, including 7000 janissaries. By September 1541, Suleiman engaged the Bohemian army in a catastrophic loss for the Bohemians, with 20,000 men slaughtered or drowned in the river. Heinrich himself suffered a terrible injury in the retreat that would render him lame for the rest of his life. The Ottoman troops soon occupied Buda with a trick: They invited Anna, the infant John II Vladislaus, and a retinue of Hungarian noblemen to the sultan’s tent. While Suleiman conferred with Anna, Turkish troops slowly entered Buda Castle and other fortifications, acting as simple tourists merely interested in the architecture. When the Hungarians were at ease, the Turkish forces turned their weapons against the Hungarians—disarming the guards and garrison of the city as they took full command of Buda Castle. As this occurred, the Hungarian nobility meeting within Suleiman’s tent sought to leave. Out of nowhere, the sultan cried: “The black soup is yet to come!” A signal for the Turkish troops within the tent to disarm the Hungarian noblemen.
The cards had turned, and Anna now saw the dangerous situation for what it was. Though Suleiman had seized control of Buda, he was prepared to be magnanimous. “The devil has sparred us today,” Anna would write in a shaky hand to Sofia Cékei. “Though he occupies our city and intends to hold it, he agreed to allow me, the king, the royal court, the nobles, and even the citizens of Buda—from the greatest to the meanest to leave the city unharmed.” The circumstances forced Anna and her court to seek refuge behind the Carpathian Mountains in Gyulafehérvár, where she would appropriate the episcopal palace for her court. Bohemian troops would attempt to besiege Buda again in 1542—but the Turks would firmly repulse them again.
The cinders of war would once more begin to spread throughout Europe as Mary sought to assert her daughter’s birthright, with conflict rising between France and the Empire again. At the same time, religious troubles continued to spread and bleed across Germany.
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Agreed with the sentiment but what is gold to the Lord? A crown made of it is just a trinket compared to his eternal glory!
Sorry just wanted to say something that sounded cool
She's so pretty! And she didnt even get mutant hands!
No not the Buddha!
Oh wait
Why is it always France
You surely delivered with this chapter, I knew I was going in for something good when you told me before, and Im very pleased with Mary being triumphant here, at least for now
They're just doing their job as the Big Blue Blob always seeking to expand.
I did like the chapter however, hopefully Mary can incorporate Hungary and prepare herself against the Ottomans that will surely strike soon.
I have to say, despite the chaotic situation that I like this more forceful Mary.
Darn it!
Girl, don’t do it. Keep Habsburg unity and let Bohemia become part of the imperial possessions
Goddamnit, stop burning historical items. This is my absolute least favourite part of Protestantism. This damned iconoclasm
Loving the dichotomy here hahah.
Charles: “Wtf are you doing?! Are you goddamn insane?? You need Jesus”
Renee: “You’re doing amazing, sweetie! #Kween”
Agreed. Bohemia is Habsburg property
Interesting that Lusatia gets two consistories. Territorial wise, it would fit more that it would be one too
Poor John Louis, but at least there are two other healthy boys. And rip John Zapolya. Long live John II Vladislaus!
That’s what you get for making a pact with the devil, Anna
A very cool chapter! Hopefully Hungary breaks free from Turkish rule soon. And please let Elisabeth marry Maximilian! Can’t wait for the next update!
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Mere opportunity to become empress? This sounds weird coming from a Hapsburg of all people.
I agree with @King of Danes on this matter. I'm not catholic, but religious objects should not be burned regardless. Stupid iconoclasm.
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Also, this is either a mis-spelling or very ironic. It could be that Anne "sparred" or fought with the Turk and got something, definitely possible or she meant spared, getting some form of relief.
I seem to recall that something similar was attempted in OTL, but the union broke up before long.
How is George the Bearded doing? Hopefully having better luck when it comes to his kids not dying
Thank you, Aluma! It was definitely an interesting chapter to write and to explore. Mary seems to be doing well, though of course (as always) her greater ambitions of restoring the union between Bohemia and Hungary have been frustrated...
Yep, things are heating up towards another conflict. Charles has had a bit of time to rest, and is perhaps prepared to make another crack at the French and their overt influence in Italy. As always, it'll end up entangled with other affairs...They're just doing their job as the Big Blue Blob always seeking to expand.
I did like the chapter however, hopefully Mary can incorporate Hungary and prepare herself against the Ottomans that will surely strike soon.
Hungary is quickly turning into a prize of fool's gold: the damage wrought over the past twenty years have not been easy... financial issues, issues with foods and crops, the increasing encroachment of the Ottomans, and now their direct occupation of Buda and likely central parts of the Danubian plain are not easy fixes.
She is fervent in the belief that her daughter has been robbed of part of her birthright. There's no doubt she will continue to do what she can until she breathes her last.
Unfortunately, we know too well how the religious reformation could divide families. Even if we don't agree, it does make sense why Mary is trying to prioritize an independent / Protestant oriented foreign policy.
I agree, but it is likely to continue. We see them as priceless artifacts: they see them as symbols of the Catholic Church having lied. Henry VIII comes to mind with the Holy Blood of Hailes, which was claimed as being: ducks blood, unctuous gum, and clarified honey colored with saffron. Hungary's reformation seems especially value this destruction of such objects.
I mostly split them because the March of Lusatia (Lower Lusatia) was functionally separate from Upper Lusatia, which was primarily former Meissen Lands, and both were separate Crownlands.
Yes, but one has bought into the teachings of Luther, Jean Calvin, and et al. Toleration was not the word of the day in the 1530s, and I could certainly see her new zeal leading her to seek out another match. Mary may well think sending her daughter to the court of Burgundy is no better than cosigning her to damnation and the flames, because she will no doubt be forced back towards the Roman faith. Look at poor Renée: I could see Mary absolutely not wanting her daughter not to endure such troubles. No crown is worth that, in Mary's mind.
Oh, but he has discovered them. The chapter mentions Roggendorf closing his eyes to issues concerning the empress. As the emperor's spy, he has heard and seen snippets of these letters.... but his concern to is to unite Bohemia with the imperial line. He's not going to meddle in something else.
A misspelling... but I do enjoy the juxtaposition of it possibly being something else, so it will stay. 😉
Yep, I believe so. We'll see how it works out here.
George the Bearded died as IOTL, and his estates were inherited by his brother Henry IV the Pious. However, Henry's eldest surviving son is not Maurice, but Severinus / Severin... who was sent by George the Bearded to Brussels to be reared and raised at the imperial court. He's Catholic; so the Duchy of Saxony / Albertine line is in the weird juxtaposition of having went from a Catholic Duke (George the Bearded) to Protestant (Henry the Pious) and will eventually return to a Catholic (Severinus). This also meants the Wettins, like the Wittelsbachs, will end up with a Catholic and Protestant line.
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It’s quite an interesting juxtaposition. Two women with a common connection, very similar religious outlooks but divided over the issue of the crown of Hungary: Mary believes by right it belongs to her daughter as heiress to the Jagiellon line of Vladislaus II, while Anna wed John Zapolya and elevated him to the throne as a national king and sired a line of children with Jagiellon and Zapolya blood. If there was not this division and bad blood between them, they might be natural allies.
It’s also interesting that Bohemia is reoriented closer to German, especially Protestant Germany. While Zapolya used Protestant ideas mainly to empower the crown. Even now, Anna continues onward yet looks for aid from Catholic France and Poland, and the poisoned chalice of the Ottomans.
It seems as though Hungary is setting itself up for a right screwing honestly