That was an interesting piece of reading. Actually I was really amazed to see how these old Irish laws/customs were passed down into popular imagination. Last year I translated a 19th-century Irish folk tale into French for one of my books and it features this very same punishment for women who committed murder - being sent adrift on a boat with a little food.
Anno Obumbratio: A 16th Century Alternate History
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Chapter 36. The Italian War of 1542-44
This is a long one! Whew. Almost 10k words here. I've editted it and trimmed where I can, but I'm just ready to post it. Whew! There may be some mistakes. Hope you all enjoy!
Chapter 36. The Italian War of 1542-1544
1540-1546; England, France, Germany, Italy, Scotland & Spain.
“War is just when it is necessary; arms are permissible when there is no hope except in arms.”
— Titius Livius, quoted by Machivelli
Musical Accompaniment: Pavane & Galliarde de la Guerre
Sieges in Northern France during the 1542-44 Italian War.
Conflict between the Habsburg and Valois had raged for nearly twenty years, with Emperor Charles V and King François fighting for influence and control over the Italian peninsula. The peace of Lucca laid the seeds of the Italian War of 1542. The treaty of 1539 had made no changes to Italy’s makeup, and the emperor and the king had left the negotiation tables more embittered than ever. For François, he had despised waiving his rights to Artois and Franche-Comté in exchange for the Duchy of Milan. Though the King of France had received 500,000 crowns as the Dauphine Isabelle’s dowry, he could not help but glower to his council: “That devil has swindled me once again.” For Charles, his anger lay in Italy: not only was French rule cemented in Milan with each passing year, but the rule of the House of Lorraine over Naples was also cemented. If things continued the way they did, there would be no improvement.
Charles had carried out his Italienzug successfully in 1540 and was formally crowned Holy Roman Emperor by Pius V—one of his last acts as Pope before his death. Pius V’s successor, Gelasius III, was no friend of the French. Upon Charles’ departure from Rome, he and his wife, the Empress Renée, were invited to travel back to the Low Countries through France. They were received by the French court at Fontainebleau, where François spared no expense to show France’s glory and power. “The emperor and empress entered the Château in a golden carriage, pulled by six white horses,” an imperial observer wrote in his private journals. “Days were spent in revelry—King François hosted feasts, masques, and several jousting tournaments, one of which carried a prize of 2000 ducats. The emperor spent much time with his daughter, the Dauphine, who had recently given birth to a daughter named Jeanne, who lived less than a day. He fretted over her; when he was not with his daughter, he met privately with King François, hoping to solve their issues…” It was at Fontainebleau that Charles sought a solution to the Duchy of Milan and the Duchy of Savoy. Charles proposed that if François was willing to return Savoy to the Duke of Savoy, then he would enfeoff François’ second son, the Duke of Orléans, as Duke of Milan and Lord of Genoa—with the promise of the hand of one of his daughters, or the hand of one of his Spanish nieces. The offer did not tempt François; Milan remained firmly in his grasp, as did Savoy—why should he make sacrifices? François intimated that such an offer would be acceptable only if the Dauphin received the rightful territories promised to him—Artois and Franche-Comté. Too many differences separated them; Charles made no progress with his host on political or religious matters. By June 1541, the talks had completely collapsed. Charles left France empty-handed, and he and Renée soon returned to the Low Countries.
The talks at Fontainebleau proved to be a farce. One historian later wrote, “Emperor Charles and King François met at Fontainebleau with their fingers crossed behind their backs. Neither had any true desire to reconcile.” François had already begun to seek out allies who might counter the emperor—in 1540, François wed his daughter Victoire to Duke Wilhelm of Jülich-Cleves-Burg, seeking to use the duke’s claims to Guelders as a wedge against the emperor. Despite François’ overt policies at home against the Protestants, he still saw the German Protestants as useful allies against imperial authority. He sought to reach an accommodation with the League of Mülhausen, a defensive league of Protestant princes, but they demurred from offering France open support. Though France received little support in northern Germany, he succeeded in renewing relations with the Kingdom of Hungary, where French artillery served alongside the royal troops. In Poland, French attempts were firmly rebuffed—with Sigismund perhaps influenced by his daughter-in-law, Marie of Austria, who had become his quick favorite. “When we last fought for the French,” Sigismund railed when he dressed down the French envoy. “We received a bloody nose—and nothing that we were promised.” Hungary remained in chaos—and Suleiman and the Ottomans hoped to use it to their advantage, with grave hopes that the Franks might bleed each other dry.
A second part of François’ diplomatic axis looked towards France’s ancestral ally in Scotland. In 1541, shortly after the birth of Princess Anne of Scotland, Charlotte encouraged her husband to reaffirm his ties once again with France. The Treaty of Edinburgh in 1541 reaffirmed the Auld Alliance and arranged for a betrothal between King François’ grandchildren—with Princess Anne betrothed to the Dauphin’s eldest son, François (b. 1539). One minor point of the renewal treaty concerned the rights of Catherine Stuart, the Countess of Boulogne and heiress of the Duke of Albany. Alexander IV agreed to a marriage proposed by King François between Catherine and Louis de La Trémoille, Viscount of Thouars. He agreed to release certain funds owed to Catherine that had been sequestered in Scotland and provide her an annual pension of £2500. In return, Catherine waived any rights to the lands associated with the Duchy of Albany. One final clause saw Alexander IV formally recognize Catherine as a Princess of Scotland—with recognized rights to the throne of Scotland behind himself and any issue he might have.
Charles was not inactive in the diplomatic game, either. The death of Pope Pius V brought about the succession of Gelasius III—who was considered much less cautious than his predecessor and no real friend to the French. Papal finances remained ruinous, with much of the wealth from the 1540 jubilee used to pay off arrears and the cost of the imperial coronation. “The Church is in no position to render active aid,” Gelasius wrote in a secret letter to the emperor. “But we support your cause whole-heartedly… if you can liberate Milan from the French, then we shall also do our part.” Ferdinand, the emperor’s brother in Spain, was also prepared to offer his part, seeing it as a chance to regain the Aragonese patrimony in Naples. “We shall conquer Naples,” Ferdinand wrote in his journal. “The Lorrainers hold what is ours by right, put in their place by the French… even still, the French finance the Neapolitan pirates who plague the Mediterranean. They raid and plunder who they please, Christians and Moslems alike. Should my dreams of a Reconquista ever hope to pass, they must be dealt with.” Charles and Ferdinand secretly signed the Pact of Ostend, ratifying a mutual protection alliance aimed at France. Charles pledged to support Spanish efforts in southern Italy as part of the pact. Charles also pledged that should Naples be reclaimed, he would abdicate the crowns of Naples and Sicily in favor of Ferdinand. Ferdinand, in turn, pledged support against France—pledging to open a front in southern France and to render aid to imperial efforts in northern Italy—both with men and money.
Charles could not help but look to England, his most natural ally as Duke of Burgundy. With Scotland still connected to France, it seemed expedient that the emperor should resume warm relations with his family in England—his nephew and his cousin, the King and Queen of England. The end of Catherine of Aragon’s regency had seen England enter a relative period of peace. Mary had supported her husband’s efforts in Denmark to restore his father, but England had remained aloof from continental feuds. Charles wasted little time, and in 1541, he dispatched a new ambassador to England—François van der Delft. Delft first met with the English sovereigns at Eltham Palace. “The imperial ambassador arrived before noon,” Charles Blount, Baron Mountjoy, wrote in a letter to his sister, Catherine Blount, who was absent from court. “His name is François van der Delft, a Fleming. He is a little taller than the queen but much shorter than the king… with all the courteous manners of a Frenchman. He offered the king his obeisance to his audience before kissing the queen’s ring. He could not help but lament the lapse in relations between the houses of England and Austria. He is certainly a witty man—both the king and queen laughed at his japes, and soon, he became a treasured queen’s pet, as you know some of these envoys often become. She has taken to calling him her petit frog!”
Mary Tudor, circa 1542; AI Generated.
If any troubles existed between England and the emperor, his envoy proved apt at smoothing them over. By late 1541, King John was summoned to Denmark at the behest of his father—to deal with troubles brewing there. As before, John bade the council obey and command Mary as they had before her marriage and said that all her decisions were to be treated as his own. The imperial envoy was present at Dover as Mary (then unaware that she was pregnant) bade farewell to John in March 1542. “When I am gone, your little frog will no doubt take his chance,” John reportedly told Mary at their final meeting. “There is little doubt that he shall seek to renew our alliance. I say only this: the emperor is our true friend, but I remind you that his promised gifts are often promises.” It was something that John understood well—his pension from the Low Countries was worth some £2000 per annum and had been paid out erratically since his arrival in England in 1530. The arrears alone now stood at some £10,000. England had not been untouched by Charles’ empty promises. The emperor’s debts to England totaled some £150,000—this total was what was publicly known. Some within the council spoke of possible loans that Catherine had made to the emperor secretly worth another £50,000, if not more; some alleged that the queen dowager had deposited the receipts to these loans within the treasury and her household accounts. She had ordered them burnt either at the termination of her regency or upon her deathbed, proving their existence a murky mystery. There also remained the question of the emperor’s so-called golden promise, which he had used as a carrot to obtain further loans from the English crown on favorable terms: a promise of 250,000 ducats to be added to Mary’s dowry when she married.
For Mary, there was no use worrying over such sums. Mary wrote in her private journal: “It is not that they are minuscule amounts (they are not); or that they are not important (they are). It is the fact that it will do no good for us to haggle over them like washerwomen. The emperor knows well what he owes—and perhaps even more if rumors are to be believed. Better to use these sums as a cudgel for favorable terms of an alliance—not a reason to pull us apart.” Despite John’s counsel before his departure, Mary ratified the Treaty of Westminster shortly after his departure in March 1542. Within the terms, Mary agreed to enter an alliance against France. Mary agreed to declare war upon France within two years, promising to assist the imperial army in northern France. In return, Charles promised to support English claims to Boulogne. The most important clause concerned Charles’ debts to England—Charles agreed to mortgage Gravelines and Dunkirk to England. In return, Charles would be allowed to redeem both towns for a payment of £300,000—the total of his debts and part of his promised addition to the queen’s dowry. “It has proven a brilliant stroke of diplomacy,” Thomas Goodrich, Bishop of Ely and Lord Chancellor since 1540, wrote in his journals. “We have received compensation, and in due time, we shall receive what is owed. The emperor will be honor-bound to repay us… he cannot look to be seen as the man who mortgages his dominions and cannot purchase them back.” Parliament was also assembled under Mary’s aegis, opening in 1542—providing eager subsidies to the crown for the queen’s planned adventures abroad.
The last of the emperor’s diplomatic plays concerned his son, Maximilian. Charles granted his son, Maximilian—then fifteen—his first command of 10,000 troops. “I am entrusting you with a mission of great importance,” Charles allegedly explained to his son. “More important than the battles on our borders—it concerns our crown and your future. Your mother, the late empress, God rest her soul—her only wish was that you should succeed me in Burgundy and Austria as emperor. I fear that her dream may not come to pass unless we ask quickly… and that is why you must go to Prague.” Queen Elisabeth of Bohemia—Maximilian’s future consort and true betrothed was now sixteen—nearly seventeen. Charles did not doubt that his sister Mary would seek to hold the regency until the last possible moment… she would not seek to wed off Elisabeth until after the termination of her regency. Charles had no interest in seizing Bohemia by force; seizing it by marriage would be a different situation. “Just as his great-grandfather had embarked on a journey to wed Marie of Burgundy,” one historian noted. “Prince Maximilian rode forth to wed his bride.” Maximilian was quite handsome at fifteen—he possessed his mother’s coloring with his father’s eyes. He had a strong and prominent nose—and his Habsburg jaw was less prominent than his father’s. Maximilian was boisterous much like his late mother—and possessed an athletic figure honed through hunting and hawking parties. “Empress Mary perished—but not before bestowing upon me Adonis in the flesh,” Charles would allegedly write in a letter to his brother Ferdinand. “Maximilian is a handsome and happy boy—I do not doubt that Queen Elisabeth shall be quite charmed by her cousin.” To cover his subterfuge, Charles wrote to Mary—announcing that Maximilian would be coming to Bohemia with reinforcements to bolster her troops and the much belated financial aid he had promised. Maximilian’s wagon train was loaded with ƒ70,000, to be dispersed amongst the Bohemian nobility as an inducement. “Do everything you can to uphold the Roman faith,” Charles lectured his son—perhaps the only lesson Maximilian allowed to fall onto deaf ears.
Maximilian had arrived with 10,000 troops in Bohemia in the summer of 1542. “Prince Maximilian was welcomed warmly by his aunt upon his arrival,” a member of Maximilian’s cortege wrote in a letter home. “His troops proved a welcome boon to the queen regent’s cause, and she readily accepted the aid her brother had rendered her.” Maximilian was first received by his aunt at Prague Castle—where he was introduced to his cousin, Queen Elisabeth. “Though fifteen,” one Bohemian courtier wrote. “Prince Maximilian looked older than his age and stood taller than the queen, who her mother had long cosseted. The queen regent was certainly blind at that first meeting between the young pair—a look in the young queen’s eyes told us everything we needed to know.” Maximilian remained in Bohemia for over a year, where he served Roggendorf and Wilhelm von Fels. The young received his baptism of fire at the Battle of Nyitra, where Maximilian led a daring charge against Hungarian troops. Maximilian’s reinforcements proved vital following the Turkish occupation of Buda. What became known as Royal Hungary comprised the areas of northern Upper Hungary, and the region of Sopron bordering Austria for the first time fell under the control of Mary and Bohemia. A diet was summoned at Sopron that recognized Elisabeth for the first time as Queen of Hungary, with her mother holding the regency. The Hungarian administration was centered in Pozsony and divided into two distinct captaincies: the captaincy of Upper Hungary and the captaincy of Sopron, with day-to-day administration to be handled by a royal governor. Mary appointed Tamás Nádasdy as her governor—a renowned Hungarian landowner who gladly deserted to her cause. Much like Bohemia, the rump of Hungary under Mary’s aegis was governed by its laws and regulations.
Siege of Eger, painted c. 1552.
By the spring of 1542, relations between François and Charles reached a new low. François’ ambassador to Cleves, Lazare de Baïf, was killed near Jülich in mysterious circumstances—allegedly by imperial troops. François wasted no time in registering his protests. Charles denied all guilt in the matter but proclaimed that upon his honor, he would hold an inquiry to investigate the matter. This did little to appease François. “How can I trust a man who has broken my trust ten times over?” François reportedly exclaimed before the whole court. “He speaks of honor, but he is perhaps the most dishonorable man in all the Christendom!” By the summer of 1542, war was swirling in the air. François aired his grievances to all who would hear it—the Dauphin and Dauphine, the Duchess of Plaisance, and even the queen. When François formally declared war in July of 1542, his most odious remarks for the imperial envoy were pointed towards the unsolved murder of Baïf: “It is an injury so great, so detestable, and so strange to those that bear the title and quality of prince that it cannot in any way be forgiven, suffered, or endured.”
Following the declaration of war, France launched a two-pronged offensive aimed at the Low Countries and Spain. In the north, command of the army was given over to the Dauphin—who attacked Luxembourg in the Siege of Luxembourg. France’s southern forces were led by Claude d’Annebault, who began the Siege of Perpignan with some 40,000 men. Annebault hoped to take Perpignan with little issue, but he soon discovered Ferdinand of Asturias had reinforced the city. Spanish troops in Perpignan, led by Captain Bõlano, took the French besiegers by surprise in an early morning raid, where Bõlano’s troops set ablaze Annebault’s stocks of gunpowder, rendering the French heavy artillery useless. Though Annebault would continue to maintain the siege for several months, the French troops endured numerous hardships—lack of food, clothing, and pestilence that carried throughout the camp. When the Duke of Alba arrived in September 1542 to relieve Perpignan, Annebault withdrew—his troops having suffered heavy losses.
War meant that France focused entirely on victory—and that meant the proper supply of its soldiers, from food and clothing to the proper weaponry. François had long sought further funds for his treasury and, in 1541, published the Decree of Angoulême, which had extended the Gabelle, or salt tax, into Angoumois and Saintonge, which made the purchase of salt compulsory from the state granaries. The Gabelle had long been a hated tax amongst the French lower classes, and there was great resentment over possible reforms. The discontent soon spiraled into a full-blown revolt known as the Revolt of Pitauds—centered around France’s salt-producing regions along the coast. The first revolts against François’ financial reforms began in La Rochelle, where the king himself introduced 8000 troops to restore order, primarily through the brutal repression of salt smugglers and illegal salt traders. “We watched as the king’s troops hung twenty men,” one member of the La Rochelle bourgeois wrote in a letter to his mother. “One after another. Their heads were settled upon pikes to hang over the city gates and before the court. All the city is quiet—on the roads, crimson mingles with dirt and muck. No one is allowed in—and no one is allowed out. Each day, we hear of the royal troop’s exploits—butchering smugglers and seizing illegal saltworks.” François extracted a heavy payment from La Rochelle for their audacity and left a small garrison within the town to continue the work his troops had started.
As France focused on smashing through the Habsburgs in the Low Countries and Spain, they looked to their newfound ally in the Duke of Jülich-Cleves-Burg to cause trouble, centered squarely upon the Duchy of Guelders. Duke Charles II of Guelders had accepted Charles V as his heir on several occasions—in 1528 and again in 1536. Even in death, Charles of Guelders cursed the Habsburgs, choosing to will the Duchy of Guelders to a distant kinsman—Wilhelm, the Duke of Jülich-Cleves-Berg. Wilhelm saw his French marriage as a chance to increase his dominions further, and in 1542, he asked his father-in-law for support. François offered what he could—guns and artillery. Wilhelm also augmented his army with the support of Maarten van Rossum, the primary general of the Duchy of Guelders, who had pledged his support to Wilhelm. Rossum was well rewarded; he was given 15,000 men and ordered to raid Brabant. His initial plans involved crossing the Meuse into Maastricht—but the Habsburgs discovered these plans. Rossum elected to instead cross the Meuse near Njimegen, where he plundered De Peel, Rode, and Vught. Though his raids were successful, Rossum could not lay siege to Lier and Leuven. He soon set his sights upon Antwerp, hoping to take one of the jewels of the Burgundian Low Countries. Charles was quick to augment the defenses of Antwerp, and he took command of a force of 18,000 men to take up positions south of Antwerp in hopes of caging Rossum in. Prince Philibert of Orange commanded the left flank, while Charles Brandon, the Viscount of Strêye, held the right flank.
Engraving of Wilhelm, the Duke of Jülich-Cleves-Berg.
The Battle of Antwerp occurred when Rossum’s forces sought to besiege Antwerp. Caught from behind by Charles’ army, the imperial cavalry led by Strêye carried out a vicious charge against Rossum’s men, primarily targeting his so-called black riders. Rossum lost nearly 6000 men in the carnage, while the imperial forces lost only 2500 men. Rossum was forced to withdraw from Antwerp in disgrace—the surroundings of Antwerp and Leuven were saved from possible destruction. The emperor would finish the Guelders campaign—Charles would lead some 10,000 men and would succeed in occupying both Guelders and Jülich in September 1543. The Viscount of Strêye would play a vital role in the negotiations surrounding the Treaty of Maastricht, where the emperor entrusted him with handling the negotiations. Duke Wilhelm renounced his rights to Guelders and Zutphen in exchange for the return of Jülich. Maastricht proved to be the crowning glory of the Viscount of Strêye’s long and storied career in imperial service—he retired soon after to his estates and died in 1545. He would be near the Chapel of Saint Brigid near Fosses-la-Ville with an epitaph that reads simply in English—A Loyal Knight to His Empress.
“Charles Brandon was an enigma,” one historian would write in their biography about the viscount. “An English lord once in high favor, his hopes and dreams were dashed by the death of his benefactor, Henry VIII. His career prospects dimmed until he attached himself to the cause of Princess Mary Tudor, later Empress Mary. There were many rumors concerning Brandon’s relationship with the empress throughout their lives and even in the decades and centuries beyond… perhaps the most well-known historical tale, did they, or didn’t they? Modern research lends credence to a strictly platonic relationship steeped in courtly love and chivalry—popular in England, France, and Burgundy in the period. Romantic historical fiction, such as the classical work of Princess, Empress, written by Violet Bagshot, explored their relationship through the lens of an unrequited—and unconsummated love affair, carried throughout Mary’s life against the backdrop of her marriage to Charles V. In truth, Brandon’s career grew even further after Mary’s death. Brandon was held in high esteem by Charles V for his friendship with Mary, who often granted Brandon commands and high service—alongside a noble title. Brandon was transformed utterly from an Englishman into a Burgundian; he wed Anna van Egmont (the Elder), who gave him two sons and a daughter—while the daughters of his first wife would be wed to noblemen in the Low Countries. Following the Guelders campaign, Brandon retired to his estate near Erbisœul due to poor health. Following his death in 1545, his eldest son Henri, perhaps named after Brandon’s storied friend, succeeded to the viscounty. Brandon’s second son (and perhaps favorite) Charles received the domaine of Erbisœul and would be known as the Sieur de Erbisœul.”
As men battled throughout Europe, Queen Mary of England was prepared to determine England’s path forward as a renewed ally to the emperor. Mary had ordered in 1542 that all should be prepared for a campaign in 1543—sometime in the summer or fall. Musters were ordered in both the home counties and the north to ensure the readiness of the troops, while supplies were stored in Dover and Portsmouth, along with Durham and York in the north. “By October, the queen verged upon exhaustion, heavily pregnant and ensconced within her chamber for her lying-in. She prayed each morning, while the afternoon and evening were dedicated to her work,” Mary Howard, Dowager Countess of Essex, wrote in a letter to her sister-in-law, the Countess of Surrey. “From her bed, she signed paperwork and would even meet with her council… they would meet in the room directly behind the queen’s chamber, where a screen had been installed hidden by a damask curtain on each side. This allowed the queen to speak with her councilors without seeing or meeting with them, which was forbidden during her lying-in. It was not until All Souls Day that the queen went into labor, shortly before breakfast… things moved quickly. Before lunch, the queen had given birth to a bonny princess, whom she named Isabella in honor of grandmother Isabella of Castile. Her Majesty recovered quickly; within an hour of the birth, she indulged in a sallet before returning to her paperwork. By evening, she allowed herself to retire, and we played primo for several hours, and only for token sums... by the night’s end, I owed the queen £15.” Mary could focus more robustly on the war preparations following the end of her pregnancy. In December 1542, Mary named the Marquess of Exeter Lord High Admiral—whose tenure would prove quite innovative. Other focuses of the queen included the readiness of the royal wharves and ports alongside the Royal Navy’s ships. “I must place our trust in God,” Mary allegedly wrote in her private diary. “I have done all I can, and we must be the victors.” Mary issued an ultimatum to François in May 1543—she demanded that François must surrender Boulogne or pay £350,000—plus interest—that Mary claimed England was owed per the Treaty of Noyon. “Is the daughter now seeking to avenge her mother—as the mother did for her husband?” François reportedly laughed upon hearing of England’s demands. “Return to your mistress—and remind her that France’s finest knights defeated her father. France owes England nothing, and France shall give her nothing.”
6000 English troops arrived in Calais in June 1543 under the command of Sir Edward Aston, joined by Baron Mountjoy. “I am assigning you in the defense of the Low Countries—including our Pale,” Mary wrote in a letter addressed to Aston and Mountjoy. “We pray for your victory and that of England.” In truth, the situation did not look well: while François dithered near Reims, his son had proved more active. Though the Dauphin had failed to seize Luxembourg, he had oriented his troops towards Artois, where he had taken Béthune and Lesquin. The Dauphin, flushed from his victories, set his sights upon Lille. The good fortune that favored France did not carry into the fall when Wilhelm of Cleves was forced to surrender to imperial forces and give up his claims to Guelders and Zutphen. Fearing for his ally and son-in-law, François ordered the Dauphin to drop his siege at Lille and to return towards Luxembourg, where François had ordered the Duke of Vendôme to provide the Dauphin with all the support he needed. Luxembourg would fall to the French in September 1543—days after Wilhelm’s surrender. His focus now undivided, Charles V was prepared to march southward into France. The Anglo-Imperial force occupied Martigny, with Charles seeking to fight François’ troops head-on. François refused to be baited by the emperor—and in November, his troops retired towards Reims. Charles soon abandoned the hunt for François; his troops moved north to seize Cambrai with the help of the English, where they would encamp through the winter.
Engraving of Battle in the Strait of Messina.
In the Mediterranean, the Spanish fleet commanded by Álvaro de Bazán was struck by the French fleet at the Battle of Villefranche. Under the command of the Count of Enghien, the French fleet had several Genoese contingents under the command of Filippino Doria. While the French outnumbered the Spanish, the tides turned against them when Bazán’s galleys fired against the Genoese line, shattering the defenses of the brigantines that made up their front line. As Bazán surged forward, Doria’s flagship threw up its white flag and guided the Genoese ships away from Villefranche. “They are nothing but snakes!” Enghien reportedly exclaimed as he saw the Genoese ships slink into the horizon—back towards Genoa. Though Villefranche ended effectively as a stalemate, Spain had successfully boxed the French fleet in, which prevented them from supporting French squadrons in southern Italy. Bazán and his main squadron took sail from Villefranche towards Sicily, where Viceroy Ferrante Gonzaga, Prince of Molfetta, had raised an army of 20,000 men at Messina to fight for the reconquest of Naples, commanded by Don Ferdinando d’Aragona—Duke of Calabria and Viceroy of Valencia, who was also the son of King Federigo of Naples. The Duke of Calabria augmented the army with 5000 men, primarily Catalans from Aragon and Valencia. “Sicily has and always shall be free,” the Prince of Molfetta exclaimed in a speech before his men. “We are the ones who rose against the pernicious French two centuries ago, tossing them from our shores. Those in Naples are our kinsmen—and they deserve our aid and assistance!”
To throw off the Angevins, the Prince of Molfetta had spread lies that his troops would embark at Messina. He ordered that a false squadron should be anchored outside of Messina—decoy galleys and barges that were filled with various chemicals: quicklime, sulfur, gunpowder, and pine resin, along with several barges that would be used as fire ships. “Molfetta’s quick thinking paid off,” a Sicilian historian would write about the Italian Wars. “Louis IV fell for the false information and hoped to profit by striking Sicily first. He ordered a portion of the royal fleet, led by Admiral Carafa and several Marinaio units, to strike at Messina… hoping to open the way for an invasion of Sicily through Reggio, where Louis IV had stationed 22,000 men under the command of Charles of Navarre…” When Admiral Carafa’s fleet chanced upon the false squadron, he ordered his flagship, the Regina Luisa, to fire the first shot. Carafa’s shot hit directly near the middle of the false ships, which resulted in an intense explosion of hellfire. “Carafa’s grapeshot caused a massive explosion as the false ships ignited one after another—the normally calm waves riotous as they buckled back against the Neapolitan fleet, causing grave confusion. Some even exclaimed that the sea had begun to boil, and the flames continued to burn atop it, perhaps because of the chemicals used. Flaming debris scattered in all directions towards the Neapolitan fleet, flames spreading quicker through the fleet than they could be dealt with. From the fog of the flames came the fire ships—aimed directly at Carafa’s flagship as he attempted to signal a retreat—leading to his death.” The event of Molfetta’s genius would go down in history as the Ruse of Messina—resulting in the death of Admiral Carafa and some 5000 men. Twelve ships amongst the Neapolitan navy and the Marinaio were destroyed, with another forty-five scuttled soon after due to the damage they endured. These losses not only crippled the Neapolitan navy but ruined many Marinaio squadrons that were deprived of able captains and sailors.
The ruse’s success meant that Bazán could provide Ferdinando with much-needed naval support that would allow his troops to make landfall in Calabria—somewhere near Cosenza. Ferdinando’s army landed in Calabria in August 1543—the first troops sent by Spain to Naples in nearly fifteen years. Even fifteen years later, Naples’ provinces had checkered loyalties. Some were more loyal to the House of Lorraine than others, and there remained a strong segment within the Neapolitan aristocracy and commons that saw the so-called Angevins as upstarts and usurpers and desired a return to Spanish rule. Calabria had long been the most pro-Spanish of Naples’ provinces—perhaps due to its proximity to Sicily. Throughout the 1530s and early 1540s, great amounts of money, troops, and effort had been expended by Naples (with French support) to curb banditry and pro-Spanish elements within Calabria, with little success. Ferdinando’s army had little issue taking Cosenza—the city opened its gates without a fuss. Shouts of “Vive Re Carlo!” and “Vive Principe Ferdinando!” rang out alongside those of “Vive Duca di Calabria!” The Duke of Calabria’s army was now perfectly positioned to deal with the Neapolitan army in Reggio.
News of the damage wrought at Messina reached Reggio swiftly. Charles of Navarre had not dared bestir from Reggio—expecting that the Sicilians might seek to land nearby. The Navarrese commander was shocked when word arrived of the capture of Cosenza and that the Spaniards marched south towards his forces as he read the letter. “I must be frank—the mood here is mutinous,” Charles of Navarre wrote in a letter to Louis IV. “We have reinforced the Castello Aragonese with extra cannons, but I fear the reliability of my men. The good Frenchmen, Lorrainers, and Gascons amongst me shall fight for your cause until the end—but I cannot say the same for some Italians. I shall be taking leave of Reggio to make camp near Squillace in the hope of better ground.” Charles departed from Reggio, leaving behind a token garrison of 2000 men he considered the most unreliable. At Squillace, Charles seized the Castle of Squillace as his headquarters, property of Francesco Borgia—Prince of Squillace who remained in exile in Spain, having never rendered his allegiance to Louis IV. The Spaniards used their position from Cosenza to press further south into Calabria, hoping to seize total control of the province, especially the city of Reggio, which would enable supplies to be received more easily from Sicily. By early September, the Duke of Calabria’s forces had control of Castiglione and Catrone—destroying the pirate base that resided there. With Charles of Navarre’s forces boxed into the southern tip of Bari, the Duke of Calabria decided that now was his chance to strike. The Battle of Squillace saw the Spanish troops boldly triumph over the demoralized troops of Charles of Navarre—who was killed in battle by a cavalry charge. By the end of November, Spanish troops had been welcomed boldly into Reggio and held most of Calabria in their hands.
It was little surprise that England’s aggressive response prompted a response from Scotland. Scotland declared war upon England in September 1543—late in the campaigning season. Having gained political ascendency since the birth of her second child, Alexander, Queen Charlotte had become the head of Scotland’s pro-French party—advocating a warlike policy that sought revenge against England for Flodden. To the surprise of no one, George Seton, the Earl of Winton, was the queen’s counter as head of the pro-English—advocating that the king should seek a diplomatic answer. Though Alexander IV prevaricated and remained utterly besotted with Winton—for the first time, he supported his wife and declared war. The winter was spent in preparation, with Alexander IV resolved to lead the army in person—supported by the Earl of Winton, who was named second in command to the chagrin of many more senior earls. By the spring of 1544, Alexander IV had organized an army of 30,000 men and prepared to march into Scotland. “Alexander’s army represented a stark difference compared to his father’s army at Flodden,” one military historian would write. “The earls and military officers, rather than serving at the front as they had in James IV’s time, now commanded from the rear as any other Renaissance army. The cavalry remained outfitted with armor, albeit lighter—while their sabers were augmented with pistols and harquebuses. The infantry, too, had been modernized: musketeers had joined the swordsman and pikemen.” Alexander led his army into England, subjecting the fort at Berwick to a shellacking by his artillery. England’s troops in the north numbered some 26,000 men under the Earl of Shrewsbury. Despite England having fewer men, they possessed more cannons than the Scots. Shrewsbury ordered the way towards Newcastle blockaded and encouraged the city leaders to fire upon the Scots if they drew close. Shrewsbury’s had an ultimate plan—to force the Scots to cross south over River Tyne to advance further into England.
Engraving of Glasgow, 1544.
Shrewsbury battled against the Scots at the Battle of Alston Moor, where Shrewsbury was able to use the height of the moor to his advantage and pummeled the Scots with artillery fire. The battle lasted until the foggy evening—when Alexander IV was forced to withdraw his forces. Despite the Scottish loss at Alston Moor, their troops retreated in relatively good order, with their losses totaling only 3000 men—with the king and his officers unscathed. The loss soured moods amongst the Scottish nobility—but not towards the king. “All believed that the king listened too often to Winton—and not enough to his other lairds,” a Scottish noble would write several decades later in a private journal. “It was he who had opposed the war yet had greedily pushed the king to invade. Even as we retreated, the mood was dark and sour… all of us knew now was time to enact what we had agreed upon.” The writer spoke of what would become known as the Bond of Threave in which several Scottish nobles—primarily the Earls of Atholl, Rothes, and Huntly and the Lords Saltoun, Oliphant, and Ruthven agreed to murder the Earl of Winton. The bond was named after Threave Castle, allegedly because it had been signed there in Queen Charlotte’s presence; others alleged that Queen Charlotte herself signed the bond, though no copy exists. When the Scottish troops made camp near Hadrian’s Wall several nights following their defeat, it was then that they decided to carry out the bond.
The Earl of Winton was kidnapped from his tent upon his return from a visit to the royal tent—and highly intoxicated. Gagged and blindfolded, Winton was carried by his captors some distance from the campsite, where he was tied to a tree. The captors announced a list of charges before murdering him. Winton died from massive blood loss, being stabbed over sixty times, with each member of the bond extracting their revenge upon the upstart nobleman. Once the earl was dead, the conspirators cut off his head along with his genitals. His body was then split into five separate pieces before being set aflame. When morning arrived, the conspirators forced their way into the royal tent. “We announced to His Majesty that the Earl of Winton had died.” the Scottish noble continued. “We presented him with our prizes—his head and manhood, which had been placed in a wooden box. We proudly announced that Winton was a traitor and that we had murdered him for his crimes—that he was no true friend of the king but an enemy who had consorted with the English and wished for his death. We received no congratulations… the stone-faced king thanked us for our service and begged us to take our leave. He fell to the floor as we left…weeping and sobbing. By late morning, the king ordered the camp packed up as we continued towards Scotland. We passed by Winton’s corpse in solemn silence near the ruins of Hadrian’s Wall… the king’s lips pursed as we did so…” Upon Alexander’s return to Scotland, he ordered Parliament called—where Alexader IV passed a bill of attainder posthumously against the Earl of Winton—depriving his young son of both his wealth and titles. “Indeed, the king wept fiercely for some time,” one courtier wrote in a jape against the king. “But within weeks, his bed was soon warmed once again by the handsome Acciaioli. The king soon embraced a new summer of love in the spring of death.” Though it seemed that Alexander had moved forward, he had not forgotten Winton nor his ignominious death; he laid the death of his companion at the feet of the Lords Oliphant and Ruthven—knowing he could not dare alienate the earls involved. Oliphant and Ruthven were imprisoned and executed in November 1544. Alexander continued to pay the pension of £400 that Winton had received on the eve of his marriage, doubling the sum to £800 to ensure that Winton’s widow, Marie Pieris, would not be destitute.
While war raged across Western Europe, northern Italy in 1543 was strained under French domination. In Genoa, Filippino Doria returned to the city enraged against French actions at Villefranche. Doria turned to his aged uncle, Andrea Doria. Andrea had been named Prince of Uscio by King François in 1540, and Andrea, now seventy-seven, had recently retired from Genoa to his new fief. Filippino could not help but see the injustice in Genoa’s position—and railed against his uncle, still an important figure within Genoa, to do something. The wizened Andrea could only shrug and allegedly uttered to his nephew: “You are inspired and passionate… such a cause must be led by the young, not the old. There was once a time when I felt as you did, but perhaps I was overtly swayed by the awards offered before me. Genoa has rotted under the French, but we have done well. With every step, my bones ache. I have not been to sea in nearly three years. In you—you there is the blood of the Dorias. You must take the stead if you believe your cause is just.” Filippino retired from Uscio rejected—but also emboldened.
View of Genoa, c. 1590.
The Revolt of Genoa in late 1543 saw Filippino head the tides of discontented Genoese—primarily from the sons of the aristocrats to young merchants, sailors, and craftsmen against their failures to thrive in French-occupied Genoa. They agitated against the French occupation and railed against the so-called Lordship of Genoa. The protesters, who became known as frondeurs in French, were known for their slings, which they used to pelt the homes of French supporters with stones. The French Governor of Milan, François, the Count of Vaudémont, ordered the garrison in Genoa to be augmented with additional troops and ordered the city walls around Genoa to be reinforced with artillery. The Count of Vaudémont also dispersed funds for constructing a new fort within the city—the Forte Belvedere, which would become known as the Forte Lorena. Vaudémont was ruthless in dealing with the Genoese—his soldiers swept street by street to deal with the poorly equipped rioters. While many were dispersed and ordered sternly to return home, Filippino Doria was captured and executed, with pieces of his body placed across different parts of Genoa in a gruesome display.
In the remainder of French Italy, the French held firm. Charles had built up a force of some 21,000 men under René, the Baron of Breda[1], to invade Italy. However, François still retained a significant force in Italy—the Armée d’Italie probably numbered some 36,000 men—with 24,000 garrisoned in and around Lombardy under the Count of Vaudémont, while the remaining 12,000 were used as garrison troops throughout Italy—from Savoy to Florence, parts of the Papal States down to the Kingdom of Naples. Charles hoped to use the scattering of French troops across the Italian peninsula to his advantage. Charles’ visit to Venice in 1541 had not been without positive developments, as the emperor had signed a secret agreement with the Venetians, the Treaty of Treviso, which allowed imperial troops to pass through Venetian territory and represented an about-face in Venetian diplomacy for the first time in nearly thirty years, Venice had declared neutrality and not sided with the French troops. Imperial forces would clash with a portion of Vaudémont’s forces at the Battle of Ostiano in the summer of 1544—ending in a French victory. Despite this, René’s forces remained in good order—while Vaudémont was still forced to pull backward as news reached him of a planned invasion of France by Anglo-Imperial forces. “Retain what is needed to maintain our presence in Lombardy, but return what men you can from Lombardy and Savoy to France proper,” one letter from King François wrote.
Part of the Treaty of Westminster had bound Mary to support an invasion of France with her cousin, with both sides pledging 35,000 infantry and 7,000 cavalry for the venture. France, in turn, had around 90,000[2] from their various armies to resist the joint invasion—with almost 40,000 of those men committed to service in Italy. Both England and the emperor had other concerns—England with Scotland and the emperor with Germany. Queen Mary sent William Paget, recently ennobled as Baron Paget, to seek an accommodation with the Scots. Alexander IV had little stomach to forge a second campaign into England and readily agreed to a three-year truce with England—with arrangements to be made for a permanent peace treaty between the two sovereigns. “Paget proved his diplomatic worth at the court of Scotland,” one member of the Privy Council would write later on. “Not only did he disarm a potential enemy in the north, but he played a very important role in shaping Anglo-Scottish relations for the better.” It was agreed that Alexander and Mary would meet at York in 1547 to sign new peace accords.
Charles V also proved more successful in his endeavors in Germany, where a new diet was called. The Imperial Diet had met several times since Trier in 1532—in 1533, they met at Wetzlar to approve a new legal code, the Constitutio Criminalis Carolina, which sought to unify and standardize the legal code throughout the empire. While a meeting at Worms in 1542 primarily concerned financing. At the Diet of Nuremberg in 1544, Charles sought financing and aid for his invasion of France. In return, the emperor agreed to suspend anti-Protestant edicts and trials and agreed to use church property that had already been secularized in parts of the empire. This represented a turning point in Charles’ political views—perhaps, for the first time, some official recognition of the Protestants occurred outside of their position as base heretics. Charles also agreed that another attempt at a national council should be held soon to deal with religious matters. Brandenburg and several other princes signed into the emperor’s anti-French coalition and agreed to furnish troops. Representatives of Christian II were also present at Nuremberg—reaching an agreement with the emperor regarding Dutch merchants in the Baltic, who had increasingly begun to take a growing interest in the Baltic trade over Lübeck. The Treaty of Nuremberg between Denmark and the Emperor granted Dutch merchants access to the Baltic Sea—whose merchants were increasingly entering into rivalries with the merchants of Lübeck. It was agreed that the Dutch would be granted a favored status regarding the tolls; in return, Denmark received the right to purchase Dutch cargo as it passed through the sound and the emperor’s support in modernizing tolls: under Christian II, a copper duty would be introduced alongside a duty rate of one percent for non-privileged goods.
Siege of Asola, c. 1545.
Throughout 1543, Maximilian did his best to ingratiate himself in Bohemia, dispensing bribes from his wagon train liberally among the Catholic and Protestant nobility. He agitated for their approval of the marriage, which many were willing to give, provided there would be an end to Mary’s regency, and the kingdom’s religious reforms and traditional laws would be respected. “Maximilian’s return to Bohemia from the battlefield of Royal Hungary saw him return to the Bohemian court a year older and wiser—and more handsome, too.” one member of Maximilian’s entourage would write in a letter back home. “Queen Elisabeth, having celebrated her eighteenth birthday, looked kindly upon her cousin—perhaps with more than mere familial concern.” Maximilian had spent his time in Hungary wisely and sustained his relationship with Elisabeth primarily through letters. One such letter saw the young queen confide her true feelings to him: “What joy it has been to have you with us in Prague—and what fear it is to know you presently fight so eagerly for our cause in Hungary. Each day brings a new unknown; I tremble with each letter, wondering if perhaps the next shall hold news of your death. Such loss would be most difficult for me to endure… indeed, knowing I am betrothed and not to you only increases my agonies, knowing that in another year, I shall perhaps be wed, and our contact must cease.” Soon, upon Maximilian’s return to Prague, he embarked on perhaps one of the most romantic adventures of his life: his future marriage to the Queen of Bohemia. Late one night in June 1543, the plan was set into motion: Roggendorf aided Maximilian in secreting the young queen into his chambers—where Maximilian awaited alongside Elisabeth’s tutor, Bohuslav Bílejovsky. Bílejovský, a Utraquist priest, married the young couple shortly before three am—and the marriage consummated shortly after that. Queen Elisabeth would return to her chambers shortly before daybreak—now a married woman.
The Bohemian Diet assembled the next morning for routine business. Queen Elisabeth, unusually, attended and asked permission to address the diet in what would become known as her Golden Speech. “Milords,” the young queen began. “I come before you concerning the Capitulations of Prague, signed upon my ascension. I am well aware of the delicate negotiations between our crown and that of Saxony concerning my potential marriage. Still, I ask instead that you consider another marriage—that which I have made of my own choice and selected by my hand—the choice of my cousin and dearest friend, Prince Maximilian. I ask that, per the Capitulations, you confirm my choice—both as my husband and as King of Bohemia.” The diet was divided between jeers and cheers; everyone could note the stony countenance on the queen regent’s face. Underneath her nose, her daughter had been wooed and wed by the one she had not wished him to marry in any circumstance. In a narrow vote, the diet agreed to confirm the queen’s choice and to terminate her mother’s regency. That evening, the pair were once again wed—officially, this time, in the royal chapel of the Castle of Prague. Maximilian saw to it that the pair were married by his Catholic confessor in secrecy that same night so that the marriage would be indisputably legitimate. Maximilian was crowned King of Bohemia the next day, and his first act was to confirm the present council and to name Roggendorf as Hofmeister to serve as his deputy in Bohemia during his absence. Maximilian also signed an oath, pledging to respect the established church order in Bohemia and to promise that Elisabeth would continue to have freedom to worship in the Bohemian church—and that all religious decisions would remain in the hands of the queen for her lifetime. After losing the regency, Mary did not remain in Prague—she chose to retire near Teplitz, where she had stayed almost a decade before. Her dower lands were confirmed by Maximilian, along with her present income.
It was little surprise that Maximilian’s adventures in Bohemia provoked a protest from Saxony—with the Saxon Elector withdrawing his support for Charles’ planned invasion of France. Still, Charles could count upon Brandenburg and the Palatinate alongside other minor German princes. By May of 1544, Charles had gathered around 44,000 men to support his invasion of France—divided into two armies. The first army, under the command of the Prince of Orange, was to be situated in the Low Countries near Limburg, while the second force was under the personal command of Charles based in the Palatinate. Orange had little problem seizing Luxembourg back from the French and soon moved towards Commercy. Imperial forces soon converged in Lorraine, where much of the Duchy was put under imperial occupation. As they pushed into Champagne, the imperial troops began the Siege of Saint-Dizier, the royal fortress that guarded France’s eastern approaches. “The fortress at Saint-Dizier was the crown jewel of France’s defenses in champagne,” one French historian would write nearly a century later. “It was built to withstand anything that could be tossed towards it.”
Equestrian Portrait of Charles V, c. 1548
In the meantime, Mary had sent 38,000 men to Calais under the joint command of the Duke of Norfolk and the Earl of Arundel. The forces included 30,000 infantry (of which 8,000 were Landsknecht paid for by imperial funds) and 6,000 cavalry—2,000 of which were mercenaries. The English army had learned from John’s fights in Denmark and comprised an adequate amount of cuirassiers, arquebusiers, and artillery. In many ways, the English army sent to France in 1544 represented the death of England’s old martial traditions: those armed with longbows comprised less than one percent of the total forces. Upon landing, the army was decided to be split into two equal forces. Norfolk used his forces to besiege Ardes quickly before focusing on Boulogne. Arundel was ordered to use his forces to support the imperial movement in the east—though the emperor insisted they should move towards Paris. Despite the movement into France, Saint-Dizier held against the Imperial siege and did not fall until nearly forty days later—valiantly supported by the Count of Sancerre and supplies provided by the Dauphin’s armies. The French garrison was allowed to leave Saint-Dizier in good order. Though the fall of Saint-Dizier had opened the road into France, the delay of over a month meant that the time for an offensive had been lost. Some within the emperor’s war party recommended he withdraw back to Germany, but Charles was intent on moving forward. “The bastard will be vanquished,” Charles reportedly uttered. “This is the closest we have come to cracking this egg, and we shall do it.” Matters in Italy fared not much better: Louis IV had squashed the troops under the Duke of Calabria in Calabria, but the Baron of Breda had managed to occupy a portion of Lombardy. Charles ordered his troops to press towards Châlons, though forces under the Dauphin prevented Charles from attempting to cross the Meuse. An offensive in Champagne resulted in the rapid fall of several cities: Soissons, Épernay, and Châtillion-sur-Marne—where Emperor Charles V sustained an injury to his leg.
In September, Boulogne fell soon after—allowing England to seize the city that had been redeemed for a pittance nearly two decades previously. A stalemate developed in northern France, and while a panic developed in Paris, François insisted that the populace had nothing to fear—an army of some 40,000 was stationed near the capital to prevent its fall. Still, it was clear to all involved that France had been dealt a bloodied nose. Charles saw it more prudent to withdraw on a high note—his finances were still in disarray, and simmering religious issues meant the need to come to a quick peace. Queen Mary of England, too, was receptive to the need to make peace—assuming her demands regarding Boulogne were met. Representatives of England, France, and the emperor met at Compiègne in Picardie. The Treaty of Compiègne in 1544 agreed that the status quo in 1538 should be recognized. Charles would drop his claims to the Duchy of Burgundy. At the same time, François would renounce his rights to Artois and Franche-Comté as a dowry for his son—accepting that the sum paid for Isabelle’s dowry and closing all discussions upon the matter. In the matter of Italy, it agreed that some arrangement should be reached: Charles agreed to enfeoff the Duke of Orléans as Duke of Milan—and in return, he would wed either his daughter Adéläide or his niece Leonor. A secret clause concerned the region of Parma in the Duchy of Milan—with Charles agreeing that Parma would be raised to a duchy and granted to François’ illegitimate son, Octave. François also agreed to return Savoy to the Duke of Savoy—and to enter into an alliance with the emperor aimed against the Ottomans. A second secret clause concerned the matter of the church—with François agreeing to support Charles in creating a Church Council. For England, it was agreed that the city of Boulogne would return into English hands, to be redeemed in 1554 for two million écus. “At such a price, the town shall remain English forever onward,” one imperial representative uttered. The conflict of 1542-44 proved exorbitantly expensive to both Charles and François, forcing the French king to seek new taxation and financial reforms. Though the war proved expensive for England, it would also lay the ground for further financial innovations later in Mary’s reign.
[1]OTL René of Châlon. Philibert still lives, so he bears his paternal surname.
[2]A bit more than IOTL, to account for improved French luck in ATL.
Chapter 36. The Italian War of 1542-1544
1540-1546; England, France, Germany, Italy, Scotland & Spain.
“War is just when it is necessary; arms are permissible when there is no hope except in arms.”
— Titius Livius, quoted by Machivelli
Musical Accompaniment: Pavane & Galliarde de la Guerre
Sieges in Northern France during the 1542-44 Italian War.
Conflict between the Habsburg and Valois had raged for nearly twenty years, with Emperor Charles V and King François fighting for influence and control over the Italian peninsula. The peace of Lucca laid the seeds of the Italian War of 1542. The treaty of 1539 had made no changes to Italy’s makeup, and the emperor and the king had left the negotiation tables more embittered than ever. For François, he had despised waiving his rights to Artois and Franche-Comté in exchange for the Duchy of Milan. Though the King of France had received 500,000 crowns as the Dauphine Isabelle’s dowry, he could not help but glower to his council: “That devil has swindled me once again.” For Charles, his anger lay in Italy: not only was French rule cemented in Milan with each passing year, but the rule of the House of Lorraine over Naples was also cemented. If things continued the way they did, there would be no improvement.
Charles had carried out his Italienzug successfully in 1540 and was formally crowned Holy Roman Emperor by Pius V—one of his last acts as Pope before his death. Pius V’s successor, Gelasius III, was no friend of the French. Upon Charles’ departure from Rome, he and his wife, the Empress Renée, were invited to travel back to the Low Countries through France. They were received by the French court at Fontainebleau, where François spared no expense to show France’s glory and power. “The emperor and empress entered the Château in a golden carriage, pulled by six white horses,” an imperial observer wrote in his private journals. “Days were spent in revelry—King François hosted feasts, masques, and several jousting tournaments, one of which carried a prize of 2000 ducats. The emperor spent much time with his daughter, the Dauphine, who had recently given birth to a daughter named Jeanne, who lived less than a day. He fretted over her; when he was not with his daughter, he met privately with King François, hoping to solve their issues…” It was at Fontainebleau that Charles sought a solution to the Duchy of Milan and the Duchy of Savoy. Charles proposed that if François was willing to return Savoy to the Duke of Savoy, then he would enfeoff François’ second son, the Duke of Orléans, as Duke of Milan and Lord of Genoa—with the promise of the hand of one of his daughters, or the hand of one of his Spanish nieces. The offer did not tempt François; Milan remained firmly in his grasp, as did Savoy—why should he make sacrifices? François intimated that such an offer would be acceptable only if the Dauphin received the rightful territories promised to him—Artois and Franche-Comté. Too many differences separated them; Charles made no progress with his host on political or religious matters. By June 1541, the talks had completely collapsed. Charles left France empty-handed, and he and Renée soon returned to the Low Countries.
The talks at Fontainebleau proved to be a farce. One historian later wrote, “Emperor Charles and King François met at Fontainebleau with their fingers crossed behind their backs. Neither had any true desire to reconcile.” François had already begun to seek out allies who might counter the emperor—in 1540, François wed his daughter Victoire to Duke Wilhelm of Jülich-Cleves-Burg, seeking to use the duke’s claims to Guelders as a wedge against the emperor. Despite François’ overt policies at home against the Protestants, he still saw the German Protestants as useful allies against imperial authority. He sought to reach an accommodation with the League of Mülhausen, a defensive league of Protestant princes, but they demurred from offering France open support. Though France received little support in northern Germany, he succeeded in renewing relations with the Kingdom of Hungary, where French artillery served alongside the royal troops. In Poland, French attempts were firmly rebuffed—with Sigismund perhaps influenced by his daughter-in-law, Marie of Austria, who had become his quick favorite. “When we last fought for the French,” Sigismund railed when he dressed down the French envoy. “We received a bloody nose—and nothing that we were promised.” Hungary remained in chaos—and Suleiman and the Ottomans hoped to use it to their advantage, with grave hopes that the Franks might bleed each other dry.
A second part of François’ diplomatic axis looked towards France’s ancestral ally in Scotland. In 1541, shortly after the birth of Princess Anne of Scotland, Charlotte encouraged her husband to reaffirm his ties once again with France. The Treaty of Edinburgh in 1541 reaffirmed the Auld Alliance and arranged for a betrothal between King François’ grandchildren—with Princess Anne betrothed to the Dauphin’s eldest son, François (b. 1539). One minor point of the renewal treaty concerned the rights of Catherine Stuart, the Countess of Boulogne and heiress of the Duke of Albany. Alexander IV agreed to a marriage proposed by King François between Catherine and Louis de La Trémoille, Viscount of Thouars. He agreed to release certain funds owed to Catherine that had been sequestered in Scotland and provide her an annual pension of £2500. In return, Catherine waived any rights to the lands associated with the Duchy of Albany. One final clause saw Alexander IV formally recognize Catherine as a Princess of Scotland—with recognized rights to the throne of Scotland behind himself and any issue he might have.
Charles was not inactive in the diplomatic game, either. The death of Pope Pius V brought about the succession of Gelasius III—who was considered much less cautious than his predecessor and no real friend to the French. Papal finances remained ruinous, with much of the wealth from the 1540 jubilee used to pay off arrears and the cost of the imperial coronation. “The Church is in no position to render active aid,” Gelasius wrote in a secret letter to the emperor. “But we support your cause whole-heartedly… if you can liberate Milan from the French, then we shall also do our part.” Ferdinand, the emperor’s brother in Spain, was also prepared to offer his part, seeing it as a chance to regain the Aragonese patrimony in Naples. “We shall conquer Naples,” Ferdinand wrote in his journal. “The Lorrainers hold what is ours by right, put in their place by the French… even still, the French finance the Neapolitan pirates who plague the Mediterranean. They raid and plunder who they please, Christians and Moslems alike. Should my dreams of a Reconquista ever hope to pass, they must be dealt with.” Charles and Ferdinand secretly signed the Pact of Ostend, ratifying a mutual protection alliance aimed at France. Charles pledged to support Spanish efforts in southern Italy as part of the pact. Charles also pledged that should Naples be reclaimed, he would abdicate the crowns of Naples and Sicily in favor of Ferdinand. Ferdinand, in turn, pledged support against France—pledging to open a front in southern France and to render aid to imperial efforts in northern Italy—both with men and money.
Charles could not help but look to England, his most natural ally as Duke of Burgundy. With Scotland still connected to France, it seemed expedient that the emperor should resume warm relations with his family in England—his nephew and his cousin, the King and Queen of England. The end of Catherine of Aragon’s regency had seen England enter a relative period of peace. Mary had supported her husband’s efforts in Denmark to restore his father, but England had remained aloof from continental feuds. Charles wasted little time, and in 1541, he dispatched a new ambassador to England—François van der Delft. Delft first met with the English sovereigns at Eltham Palace. “The imperial ambassador arrived before noon,” Charles Blount, Baron Mountjoy, wrote in a letter to his sister, Catherine Blount, who was absent from court. “His name is François van der Delft, a Fleming. He is a little taller than the queen but much shorter than the king… with all the courteous manners of a Frenchman. He offered the king his obeisance to his audience before kissing the queen’s ring. He could not help but lament the lapse in relations between the houses of England and Austria. He is certainly a witty man—both the king and queen laughed at his japes, and soon, he became a treasured queen’s pet, as you know some of these envoys often become. She has taken to calling him her petit frog!”
Mary Tudor, circa 1542; AI Generated.
If any troubles existed between England and the emperor, his envoy proved apt at smoothing them over. By late 1541, King John was summoned to Denmark at the behest of his father—to deal with troubles brewing there. As before, John bade the council obey and command Mary as they had before her marriage and said that all her decisions were to be treated as his own. The imperial envoy was present at Dover as Mary (then unaware that she was pregnant) bade farewell to John in March 1542. “When I am gone, your little frog will no doubt take his chance,” John reportedly told Mary at their final meeting. “There is little doubt that he shall seek to renew our alliance. I say only this: the emperor is our true friend, but I remind you that his promised gifts are often promises.” It was something that John understood well—his pension from the Low Countries was worth some £2000 per annum and had been paid out erratically since his arrival in England in 1530. The arrears alone now stood at some £10,000. England had not been untouched by Charles’ empty promises. The emperor’s debts to England totaled some £150,000—this total was what was publicly known. Some within the council spoke of possible loans that Catherine had made to the emperor secretly worth another £50,000, if not more; some alleged that the queen dowager had deposited the receipts to these loans within the treasury and her household accounts. She had ordered them burnt either at the termination of her regency or upon her deathbed, proving their existence a murky mystery. There also remained the question of the emperor’s so-called golden promise, which he had used as a carrot to obtain further loans from the English crown on favorable terms: a promise of 250,000 ducats to be added to Mary’s dowry when she married.
For Mary, there was no use worrying over such sums. Mary wrote in her private journal: “It is not that they are minuscule amounts (they are not); or that they are not important (they are). It is the fact that it will do no good for us to haggle over them like washerwomen. The emperor knows well what he owes—and perhaps even more if rumors are to be believed. Better to use these sums as a cudgel for favorable terms of an alliance—not a reason to pull us apart.” Despite John’s counsel before his departure, Mary ratified the Treaty of Westminster shortly after his departure in March 1542. Within the terms, Mary agreed to enter an alliance against France. Mary agreed to declare war upon France within two years, promising to assist the imperial army in northern France. In return, Charles promised to support English claims to Boulogne. The most important clause concerned Charles’ debts to England—Charles agreed to mortgage Gravelines and Dunkirk to England. In return, Charles would be allowed to redeem both towns for a payment of £300,000—the total of his debts and part of his promised addition to the queen’s dowry. “It has proven a brilliant stroke of diplomacy,” Thomas Goodrich, Bishop of Ely and Lord Chancellor since 1540, wrote in his journals. “We have received compensation, and in due time, we shall receive what is owed. The emperor will be honor-bound to repay us… he cannot look to be seen as the man who mortgages his dominions and cannot purchase them back.” Parliament was also assembled under Mary’s aegis, opening in 1542—providing eager subsidies to the crown for the queen’s planned adventures abroad.
The last of the emperor’s diplomatic plays concerned his son, Maximilian. Charles granted his son, Maximilian—then fifteen—his first command of 10,000 troops. “I am entrusting you with a mission of great importance,” Charles allegedly explained to his son. “More important than the battles on our borders—it concerns our crown and your future. Your mother, the late empress, God rest her soul—her only wish was that you should succeed me in Burgundy and Austria as emperor. I fear that her dream may not come to pass unless we ask quickly… and that is why you must go to Prague.” Queen Elisabeth of Bohemia—Maximilian’s future consort and true betrothed was now sixteen—nearly seventeen. Charles did not doubt that his sister Mary would seek to hold the regency until the last possible moment… she would not seek to wed off Elisabeth until after the termination of her regency. Charles had no interest in seizing Bohemia by force; seizing it by marriage would be a different situation. “Just as his great-grandfather had embarked on a journey to wed Marie of Burgundy,” one historian noted. “Prince Maximilian rode forth to wed his bride.” Maximilian was quite handsome at fifteen—he possessed his mother’s coloring with his father’s eyes. He had a strong and prominent nose—and his Habsburg jaw was less prominent than his father’s. Maximilian was boisterous much like his late mother—and possessed an athletic figure honed through hunting and hawking parties. “Empress Mary perished—but not before bestowing upon me Adonis in the flesh,” Charles would allegedly write in a letter to his brother Ferdinand. “Maximilian is a handsome and happy boy—I do not doubt that Queen Elisabeth shall be quite charmed by her cousin.” To cover his subterfuge, Charles wrote to Mary—announcing that Maximilian would be coming to Bohemia with reinforcements to bolster her troops and the much belated financial aid he had promised. Maximilian’s wagon train was loaded with ƒ70,000, to be dispersed amongst the Bohemian nobility as an inducement. “Do everything you can to uphold the Roman faith,” Charles lectured his son—perhaps the only lesson Maximilian allowed to fall onto deaf ears.
Maximilian had arrived with 10,000 troops in Bohemia in the summer of 1542. “Prince Maximilian was welcomed warmly by his aunt upon his arrival,” a member of Maximilian’s cortege wrote in a letter home. “His troops proved a welcome boon to the queen regent’s cause, and she readily accepted the aid her brother had rendered her.” Maximilian was first received by his aunt at Prague Castle—where he was introduced to his cousin, Queen Elisabeth. “Though fifteen,” one Bohemian courtier wrote. “Prince Maximilian looked older than his age and stood taller than the queen, who her mother had long cosseted. The queen regent was certainly blind at that first meeting between the young pair—a look in the young queen’s eyes told us everything we needed to know.” Maximilian remained in Bohemia for over a year, where he served Roggendorf and Wilhelm von Fels. The young received his baptism of fire at the Battle of Nyitra, where Maximilian led a daring charge against Hungarian troops. Maximilian’s reinforcements proved vital following the Turkish occupation of Buda. What became known as Royal Hungary comprised the areas of northern Upper Hungary, and the region of Sopron bordering Austria for the first time fell under the control of Mary and Bohemia. A diet was summoned at Sopron that recognized Elisabeth for the first time as Queen of Hungary, with her mother holding the regency. The Hungarian administration was centered in Pozsony and divided into two distinct captaincies: the captaincy of Upper Hungary and the captaincy of Sopron, with day-to-day administration to be handled by a royal governor. Mary appointed Tamás Nádasdy as her governor—a renowned Hungarian landowner who gladly deserted to her cause. Much like Bohemia, the rump of Hungary under Mary’s aegis was governed by its laws and regulations.
Siege of Eger, painted c. 1552.
By the spring of 1542, relations between François and Charles reached a new low. François’ ambassador to Cleves, Lazare de Baïf, was killed near Jülich in mysterious circumstances—allegedly by imperial troops. François wasted no time in registering his protests. Charles denied all guilt in the matter but proclaimed that upon his honor, he would hold an inquiry to investigate the matter. This did little to appease François. “How can I trust a man who has broken my trust ten times over?” François reportedly exclaimed before the whole court. “He speaks of honor, but he is perhaps the most dishonorable man in all the Christendom!” By the summer of 1542, war was swirling in the air. François aired his grievances to all who would hear it—the Dauphin and Dauphine, the Duchess of Plaisance, and even the queen. When François formally declared war in July of 1542, his most odious remarks for the imperial envoy were pointed towards the unsolved murder of Baïf: “It is an injury so great, so detestable, and so strange to those that bear the title and quality of prince that it cannot in any way be forgiven, suffered, or endured.”
Following the declaration of war, France launched a two-pronged offensive aimed at the Low Countries and Spain. In the north, command of the army was given over to the Dauphin—who attacked Luxembourg in the Siege of Luxembourg. France’s southern forces were led by Claude d’Annebault, who began the Siege of Perpignan with some 40,000 men. Annebault hoped to take Perpignan with little issue, but he soon discovered Ferdinand of Asturias had reinforced the city. Spanish troops in Perpignan, led by Captain Bõlano, took the French besiegers by surprise in an early morning raid, where Bõlano’s troops set ablaze Annebault’s stocks of gunpowder, rendering the French heavy artillery useless. Though Annebault would continue to maintain the siege for several months, the French troops endured numerous hardships—lack of food, clothing, and pestilence that carried throughout the camp. When the Duke of Alba arrived in September 1542 to relieve Perpignan, Annebault withdrew—his troops having suffered heavy losses.
War meant that France focused entirely on victory—and that meant the proper supply of its soldiers, from food and clothing to the proper weaponry. François had long sought further funds for his treasury and, in 1541, published the Decree of Angoulême, which had extended the Gabelle, or salt tax, into Angoumois and Saintonge, which made the purchase of salt compulsory from the state granaries. The Gabelle had long been a hated tax amongst the French lower classes, and there was great resentment over possible reforms. The discontent soon spiraled into a full-blown revolt known as the Revolt of Pitauds—centered around France’s salt-producing regions along the coast. The first revolts against François’ financial reforms began in La Rochelle, where the king himself introduced 8000 troops to restore order, primarily through the brutal repression of salt smugglers and illegal salt traders. “We watched as the king’s troops hung twenty men,” one member of the La Rochelle bourgeois wrote in a letter to his mother. “One after another. Their heads were settled upon pikes to hang over the city gates and before the court. All the city is quiet—on the roads, crimson mingles with dirt and muck. No one is allowed in—and no one is allowed out. Each day, we hear of the royal troop’s exploits—butchering smugglers and seizing illegal saltworks.” François extracted a heavy payment from La Rochelle for their audacity and left a small garrison within the town to continue the work his troops had started.
As France focused on smashing through the Habsburgs in the Low Countries and Spain, they looked to their newfound ally in the Duke of Jülich-Cleves-Burg to cause trouble, centered squarely upon the Duchy of Guelders. Duke Charles II of Guelders had accepted Charles V as his heir on several occasions—in 1528 and again in 1536. Even in death, Charles of Guelders cursed the Habsburgs, choosing to will the Duchy of Guelders to a distant kinsman—Wilhelm, the Duke of Jülich-Cleves-Berg. Wilhelm saw his French marriage as a chance to increase his dominions further, and in 1542, he asked his father-in-law for support. François offered what he could—guns and artillery. Wilhelm also augmented his army with the support of Maarten van Rossum, the primary general of the Duchy of Guelders, who had pledged his support to Wilhelm. Rossum was well rewarded; he was given 15,000 men and ordered to raid Brabant. His initial plans involved crossing the Meuse into Maastricht—but the Habsburgs discovered these plans. Rossum elected to instead cross the Meuse near Njimegen, where he plundered De Peel, Rode, and Vught. Though his raids were successful, Rossum could not lay siege to Lier and Leuven. He soon set his sights upon Antwerp, hoping to take one of the jewels of the Burgundian Low Countries. Charles was quick to augment the defenses of Antwerp, and he took command of a force of 18,000 men to take up positions south of Antwerp in hopes of caging Rossum in. Prince Philibert of Orange commanded the left flank, while Charles Brandon, the Viscount of Strêye, held the right flank.
Engraving of Wilhelm, the Duke of Jülich-Cleves-Berg.
The Battle of Antwerp occurred when Rossum’s forces sought to besiege Antwerp. Caught from behind by Charles’ army, the imperial cavalry led by Strêye carried out a vicious charge against Rossum’s men, primarily targeting his so-called black riders. Rossum lost nearly 6000 men in the carnage, while the imperial forces lost only 2500 men. Rossum was forced to withdraw from Antwerp in disgrace—the surroundings of Antwerp and Leuven were saved from possible destruction. The emperor would finish the Guelders campaign—Charles would lead some 10,000 men and would succeed in occupying both Guelders and Jülich in September 1543. The Viscount of Strêye would play a vital role in the negotiations surrounding the Treaty of Maastricht, where the emperor entrusted him with handling the negotiations. Duke Wilhelm renounced his rights to Guelders and Zutphen in exchange for the return of Jülich. Maastricht proved to be the crowning glory of the Viscount of Strêye’s long and storied career in imperial service—he retired soon after to his estates and died in 1545. He would be near the Chapel of Saint Brigid near Fosses-la-Ville with an epitaph that reads simply in English—A Loyal Knight to His Empress.
“Charles Brandon was an enigma,” one historian would write in their biography about the viscount. “An English lord once in high favor, his hopes and dreams were dashed by the death of his benefactor, Henry VIII. His career prospects dimmed until he attached himself to the cause of Princess Mary Tudor, later Empress Mary. There were many rumors concerning Brandon’s relationship with the empress throughout their lives and even in the decades and centuries beyond… perhaps the most well-known historical tale, did they, or didn’t they? Modern research lends credence to a strictly platonic relationship steeped in courtly love and chivalry—popular in England, France, and Burgundy in the period. Romantic historical fiction, such as the classical work of Princess, Empress, written by Violet Bagshot, explored their relationship through the lens of an unrequited—and unconsummated love affair, carried throughout Mary’s life against the backdrop of her marriage to Charles V. In truth, Brandon’s career grew even further after Mary’s death. Brandon was held in high esteem by Charles V for his friendship with Mary, who often granted Brandon commands and high service—alongside a noble title. Brandon was transformed utterly from an Englishman into a Burgundian; he wed Anna van Egmont (the Elder), who gave him two sons and a daughter—while the daughters of his first wife would be wed to noblemen in the Low Countries. Following the Guelders campaign, Brandon retired to his estate near Erbisœul due to poor health. Following his death in 1545, his eldest son Henri, perhaps named after Brandon’s storied friend, succeeded to the viscounty. Brandon’s second son (and perhaps favorite) Charles received the domaine of Erbisœul and would be known as the Sieur de Erbisœul.”
As men battled throughout Europe, Queen Mary of England was prepared to determine England’s path forward as a renewed ally to the emperor. Mary had ordered in 1542 that all should be prepared for a campaign in 1543—sometime in the summer or fall. Musters were ordered in both the home counties and the north to ensure the readiness of the troops, while supplies were stored in Dover and Portsmouth, along with Durham and York in the north. “By October, the queen verged upon exhaustion, heavily pregnant and ensconced within her chamber for her lying-in. She prayed each morning, while the afternoon and evening were dedicated to her work,” Mary Howard, Dowager Countess of Essex, wrote in a letter to her sister-in-law, the Countess of Surrey. “From her bed, she signed paperwork and would even meet with her council… they would meet in the room directly behind the queen’s chamber, where a screen had been installed hidden by a damask curtain on each side. This allowed the queen to speak with her councilors without seeing or meeting with them, which was forbidden during her lying-in. It was not until All Souls Day that the queen went into labor, shortly before breakfast… things moved quickly. Before lunch, the queen had given birth to a bonny princess, whom she named Isabella in honor of grandmother Isabella of Castile. Her Majesty recovered quickly; within an hour of the birth, she indulged in a sallet before returning to her paperwork. By evening, she allowed herself to retire, and we played primo for several hours, and only for token sums... by the night’s end, I owed the queen £15.” Mary could focus more robustly on the war preparations following the end of her pregnancy. In December 1542, Mary named the Marquess of Exeter Lord High Admiral—whose tenure would prove quite innovative. Other focuses of the queen included the readiness of the royal wharves and ports alongside the Royal Navy’s ships. “I must place our trust in God,” Mary allegedly wrote in her private diary. “I have done all I can, and we must be the victors.” Mary issued an ultimatum to François in May 1543—she demanded that François must surrender Boulogne or pay £350,000—plus interest—that Mary claimed England was owed per the Treaty of Noyon. “Is the daughter now seeking to avenge her mother—as the mother did for her husband?” François reportedly laughed upon hearing of England’s demands. “Return to your mistress—and remind her that France’s finest knights defeated her father. France owes England nothing, and France shall give her nothing.”
6000 English troops arrived in Calais in June 1543 under the command of Sir Edward Aston, joined by Baron Mountjoy. “I am assigning you in the defense of the Low Countries—including our Pale,” Mary wrote in a letter addressed to Aston and Mountjoy. “We pray for your victory and that of England.” In truth, the situation did not look well: while François dithered near Reims, his son had proved more active. Though the Dauphin had failed to seize Luxembourg, he had oriented his troops towards Artois, where he had taken Béthune and Lesquin. The Dauphin, flushed from his victories, set his sights upon Lille. The good fortune that favored France did not carry into the fall when Wilhelm of Cleves was forced to surrender to imperial forces and give up his claims to Guelders and Zutphen. Fearing for his ally and son-in-law, François ordered the Dauphin to drop his siege at Lille and to return towards Luxembourg, where François had ordered the Duke of Vendôme to provide the Dauphin with all the support he needed. Luxembourg would fall to the French in September 1543—days after Wilhelm’s surrender. His focus now undivided, Charles V was prepared to march southward into France. The Anglo-Imperial force occupied Martigny, with Charles seeking to fight François’ troops head-on. François refused to be baited by the emperor—and in November, his troops retired towards Reims. Charles soon abandoned the hunt for François; his troops moved north to seize Cambrai with the help of the English, where they would encamp through the winter.
Engraving of Battle in the Strait of Messina.
In the Mediterranean, the Spanish fleet commanded by Álvaro de Bazán was struck by the French fleet at the Battle of Villefranche. Under the command of the Count of Enghien, the French fleet had several Genoese contingents under the command of Filippino Doria. While the French outnumbered the Spanish, the tides turned against them when Bazán’s galleys fired against the Genoese line, shattering the defenses of the brigantines that made up their front line. As Bazán surged forward, Doria’s flagship threw up its white flag and guided the Genoese ships away from Villefranche. “They are nothing but snakes!” Enghien reportedly exclaimed as he saw the Genoese ships slink into the horizon—back towards Genoa. Though Villefranche ended effectively as a stalemate, Spain had successfully boxed the French fleet in, which prevented them from supporting French squadrons in southern Italy. Bazán and his main squadron took sail from Villefranche towards Sicily, where Viceroy Ferrante Gonzaga, Prince of Molfetta, had raised an army of 20,000 men at Messina to fight for the reconquest of Naples, commanded by Don Ferdinando d’Aragona—Duke of Calabria and Viceroy of Valencia, who was also the son of King Federigo of Naples. The Duke of Calabria augmented the army with 5000 men, primarily Catalans from Aragon and Valencia. “Sicily has and always shall be free,” the Prince of Molfetta exclaimed in a speech before his men. “We are the ones who rose against the pernicious French two centuries ago, tossing them from our shores. Those in Naples are our kinsmen—and they deserve our aid and assistance!”
To throw off the Angevins, the Prince of Molfetta had spread lies that his troops would embark at Messina. He ordered that a false squadron should be anchored outside of Messina—decoy galleys and barges that were filled with various chemicals: quicklime, sulfur, gunpowder, and pine resin, along with several barges that would be used as fire ships. “Molfetta’s quick thinking paid off,” a Sicilian historian would write about the Italian Wars. “Louis IV fell for the false information and hoped to profit by striking Sicily first. He ordered a portion of the royal fleet, led by Admiral Carafa and several Marinaio units, to strike at Messina… hoping to open the way for an invasion of Sicily through Reggio, where Louis IV had stationed 22,000 men under the command of Charles of Navarre…” When Admiral Carafa’s fleet chanced upon the false squadron, he ordered his flagship, the Regina Luisa, to fire the first shot. Carafa’s shot hit directly near the middle of the false ships, which resulted in an intense explosion of hellfire. “Carafa’s grapeshot caused a massive explosion as the false ships ignited one after another—the normally calm waves riotous as they buckled back against the Neapolitan fleet, causing grave confusion. Some even exclaimed that the sea had begun to boil, and the flames continued to burn atop it, perhaps because of the chemicals used. Flaming debris scattered in all directions towards the Neapolitan fleet, flames spreading quicker through the fleet than they could be dealt with. From the fog of the flames came the fire ships—aimed directly at Carafa’s flagship as he attempted to signal a retreat—leading to his death.” The event of Molfetta’s genius would go down in history as the Ruse of Messina—resulting in the death of Admiral Carafa and some 5000 men. Twelve ships amongst the Neapolitan navy and the Marinaio were destroyed, with another forty-five scuttled soon after due to the damage they endured. These losses not only crippled the Neapolitan navy but ruined many Marinaio squadrons that were deprived of able captains and sailors.
The ruse’s success meant that Bazán could provide Ferdinando with much-needed naval support that would allow his troops to make landfall in Calabria—somewhere near Cosenza. Ferdinando’s army landed in Calabria in August 1543—the first troops sent by Spain to Naples in nearly fifteen years. Even fifteen years later, Naples’ provinces had checkered loyalties. Some were more loyal to the House of Lorraine than others, and there remained a strong segment within the Neapolitan aristocracy and commons that saw the so-called Angevins as upstarts and usurpers and desired a return to Spanish rule. Calabria had long been the most pro-Spanish of Naples’ provinces—perhaps due to its proximity to Sicily. Throughout the 1530s and early 1540s, great amounts of money, troops, and effort had been expended by Naples (with French support) to curb banditry and pro-Spanish elements within Calabria, with little success. Ferdinando’s army had little issue taking Cosenza—the city opened its gates without a fuss. Shouts of “Vive Re Carlo!” and “Vive Principe Ferdinando!” rang out alongside those of “Vive Duca di Calabria!” The Duke of Calabria’s army was now perfectly positioned to deal with the Neapolitan army in Reggio.
News of the damage wrought at Messina reached Reggio swiftly. Charles of Navarre had not dared bestir from Reggio—expecting that the Sicilians might seek to land nearby. The Navarrese commander was shocked when word arrived of the capture of Cosenza and that the Spaniards marched south towards his forces as he read the letter. “I must be frank—the mood here is mutinous,” Charles of Navarre wrote in a letter to Louis IV. “We have reinforced the Castello Aragonese with extra cannons, but I fear the reliability of my men. The good Frenchmen, Lorrainers, and Gascons amongst me shall fight for your cause until the end—but I cannot say the same for some Italians. I shall be taking leave of Reggio to make camp near Squillace in the hope of better ground.” Charles departed from Reggio, leaving behind a token garrison of 2000 men he considered the most unreliable. At Squillace, Charles seized the Castle of Squillace as his headquarters, property of Francesco Borgia—Prince of Squillace who remained in exile in Spain, having never rendered his allegiance to Louis IV. The Spaniards used their position from Cosenza to press further south into Calabria, hoping to seize total control of the province, especially the city of Reggio, which would enable supplies to be received more easily from Sicily. By early September, the Duke of Calabria’s forces had control of Castiglione and Catrone—destroying the pirate base that resided there. With Charles of Navarre’s forces boxed into the southern tip of Bari, the Duke of Calabria decided that now was his chance to strike. The Battle of Squillace saw the Spanish troops boldly triumph over the demoralized troops of Charles of Navarre—who was killed in battle by a cavalry charge. By the end of November, Spanish troops had been welcomed boldly into Reggio and held most of Calabria in their hands.
It was little surprise that England’s aggressive response prompted a response from Scotland. Scotland declared war upon England in September 1543—late in the campaigning season. Having gained political ascendency since the birth of her second child, Alexander, Queen Charlotte had become the head of Scotland’s pro-French party—advocating a warlike policy that sought revenge against England for Flodden. To the surprise of no one, George Seton, the Earl of Winton, was the queen’s counter as head of the pro-English—advocating that the king should seek a diplomatic answer. Though Alexander IV prevaricated and remained utterly besotted with Winton—for the first time, he supported his wife and declared war. The winter was spent in preparation, with Alexander IV resolved to lead the army in person—supported by the Earl of Winton, who was named second in command to the chagrin of many more senior earls. By the spring of 1544, Alexander IV had organized an army of 30,000 men and prepared to march into Scotland. “Alexander’s army represented a stark difference compared to his father’s army at Flodden,” one military historian would write. “The earls and military officers, rather than serving at the front as they had in James IV’s time, now commanded from the rear as any other Renaissance army. The cavalry remained outfitted with armor, albeit lighter—while their sabers were augmented with pistols and harquebuses. The infantry, too, had been modernized: musketeers had joined the swordsman and pikemen.” Alexander led his army into England, subjecting the fort at Berwick to a shellacking by his artillery. England’s troops in the north numbered some 26,000 men under the Earl of Shrewsbury. Despite England having fewer men, they possessed more cannons than the Scots. Shrewsbury ordered the way towards Newcastle blockaded and encouraged the city leaders to fire upon the Scots if they drew close. Shrewsbury’s had an ultimate plan—to force the Scots to cross south over River Tyne to advance further into England.
Engraving of Glasgow, 1544.
Shrewsbury battled against the Scots at the Battle of Alston Moor, where Shrewsbury was able to use the height of the moor to his advantage and pummeled the Scots with artillery fire. The battle lasted until the foggy evening—when Alexander IV was forced to withdraw his forces. Despite the Scottish loss at Alston Moor, their troops retreated in relatively good order, with their losses totaling only 3000 men—with the king and his officers unscathed. The loss soured moods amongst the Scottish nobility—but not towards the king. “All believed that the king listened too often to Winton—and not enough to his other lairds,” a Scottish noble would write several decades later in a private journal. “It was he who had opposed the war yet had greedily pushed the king to invade. Even as we retreated, the mood was dark and sour… all of us knew now was time to enact what we had agreed upon.” The writer spoke of what would become known as the Bond of Threave in which several Scottish nobles—primarily the Earls of Atholl, Rothes, and Huntly and the Lords Saltoun, Oliphant, and Ruthven agreed to murder the Earl of Winton. The bond was named after Threave Castle, allegedly because it had been signed there in Queen Charlotte’s presence; others alleged that Queen Charlotte herself signed the bond, though no copy exists. When the Scottish troops made camp near Hadrian’s Wall several nights following their defeat, it was then that they decided to carry out the bond.
The Earl of Winton was kidnapped from his tent upon his return from a visit to the royal tent—and highly intoxicated. Gagged and blindfolded, Winton was carried by his captors some distance from the campsite, where he was tied to a tree. The captors announced a list of charges before murdering him. Winton died from massive blood loss, being stabbed over sixty times, with each member of the bond extracting their revenge upon the upstart nobleman. Once the earl was dead, the conspirators cut off his head along with his genitals. His body was then split into five separate pieces before being set aflame. When morning arrived, the conspirators forced their way into the royal tent. “We announced to His Majesty that the Earl of Winton had died.” the Scottish noble continued. “We presented him with our prizes—his head and manhood, which had been placed in a wooden box. We proudly announced that Winton was a traitor and that we had murdered him for his crimes—that he was no true friend of the king but an enemy who had consorted with the English and wished for his death. We received no congratulations… the stone-faced king thanked us for our service and begged us to take our leave. He fell to the floor as we left…weeping and sobbing. By late morning, the king ordered the camp packed up as we continued towards Scotland. We passed by Winton’s corpse in solemn silence near the ruins of Hadrian’s Wall… the king’s lips pursed as we did so…” Upon Alexander’s return to Scotland, he ordered Parliament called—where Alexader IV passed a bill of attainder posthumously against the Earl of Winton—depriving his young son of both his wealth and titles. “Indeed, the king wept fiercely for some time,” one courtier wrote in a jape against the king. “But within weeks, his bed was soon warmed once again by the handsome Acciaioli. The king soon embraced a new summer of love in the spring of death.” Though it seemed that Alexander had moved forward, he had not forgotten Winton nor his ignominious death; he laid the death of his companion at the feet of the Lords Oliphant and Ruthven—knowing he could not dare alienate the earls involved. Oliphant and Ruthven were imprisoned and executed in November 1544. Alexander continued to pay the pension of £400 that Winton had received on the eve of his marriage, doubling the sum to £800 to ensure that Winton’s widow, Marie Pieris, would not be destitute.
While war raged across Western Europe, northern Italy in 1543 was strained under French domination. In Genoa, Filippino Doria returned to the city enraged against French actions at Villefranche. Doria turned to his aged uncle, Andrea Doria. Andrea had been named Prince of Uscio by King François in 1540, and Andrea, now seventy-seven, had recently retired from Genoa to his new fief. Filippino could not help but see the injustice in Genoa’s position—and railed against his uncle, still an important figure within Genoa, to do something. The wizened Andrea could only shrug and allegedly uttered to his nephew: “You are inspired and passionate… such a cause must be led by the young, not the old. There was once a time when I felt as you did, but perhaps I was overtly swayed by the awards offered before me. Genoa has rotted under the French, but we have done well. With every step, my bones ache. I have not been to sea in nearly three years. In you—you there is the blood of the Dorias. You must take the stead if you believe your cause is just.” Filippino retired from Uscio rejected—but also emboldened.
View of Genoa, c. 1590.
The Revolt of Genoa in late 1543 saw Filippino head the tides of discontented Genoese—primarily from the sons of the aristocrats to young merchants, sailors, and craftsmen against their failures to thrive in French-occupied Genoa. They agitated against the French occupation and railed against the so-called Lordship of Genoa. The protesters, who became known as frondeurs in French, were known for their slings, which they used to pelt the homes of French supporters with stones. The French Governor of Milan, François, the Count of Vaudémont, ordered the garrison in Genoa to be augmented with additional troops and ordered the city walls around Genoa to be reinforced with artillery. The Count of Vaudémont also dispersed funds for constructing a new fort within the city—the Forte Belvedere, which would become known as the Forte Lorena. Vaudémont was ruthless in dealing with the Genoese—his soldiers swept street by street to deal with the poorly equipped rioters. While many were dispersed and ordered sternly to return home, Filippino Doria was captured and executed, with pieces of his body placed across different parts of Genoa in a gruesome display.
In the remainder of French Italy, the French held firm. Charles had built up a force of some 21,000 men under René, the Baron of Breda[1], to invade Italy. However, François still retained a significant force in Italy—the Armée d’Italie probably numbered some 36,000 men—with 24,000 garrisoned in and around Lombardy under the Count of Vaudémont, while the remaining 12,000 were used as garrison troops throughout Italy—from Savoy to Florence, parts of the Papal States down to the Kingdom of Naples. Charles hoped to use the scattering of French troops across the Italian peninsula to his advantage. Charles’ visit to Venice in 1541 had not been without positive developments, as the emperor had signed a secret agreement with the Venetians, the Treaty of Treviso, which allowed imperial troops to pass through Venetian territory and represented an about-face in Venetian diplomacy for the first time in nearly thirty years, Venice had declared neutrality and not sided with the French troops. Imperial forces would clash with a portion of Vaudémont’s forces at the Battle of Ostiano in the summer of 1544—ending in a French victory. Despite this, René’s forces remained in good order—while Vaudémont was still forced to pull backward as news reached him of a planned invasion of France by Anglo-Imperial forces. “Retain what is needed to maintain our presence in Lombardy, but return what men you can from Lombardy and Savoy to France proper,” one letter from King François wrote.
Part of the Treaty of Westminster had bound Mary to support an invasion of France with her cousin, with both sides pledging 35,000 infantry and 7,000 cavalry for the venture. France, in turn, had around 90,000[2] from their various armies to resist the joint invasion—with almost 40,000 of those men committed to service in Italy. Both England and the emperor had other concerns—England with Scotland and the emperor with Germany. Queen Mary sent William Paget, recently ennobled as Baron Paget, to seek an accommodation with the Scots. Alexander IV had little stomach to forge a second campaign into England and readily agreed to a three-year truce with England—with arrangements to be made for a permanent peace treaty between the two sovereigns. “Paget proved his diplomatic worth at the court of Scotland,” one member of the Privy Council would write later on. “Not only did he disarm a potential enemy in the north, but he played a very important role in shaping Anglo-Scottish relations for the better.” It was agreed that Alexander and Mary would meet at York in 1547 to sign new peace accords.
Charles V also proved more successful in his endeavors in Germany, where a new diet was called. The Imperial Diet had met several times since Trier in 1532—in 1533, they met at Wetzlar to approve a new legal code, the Constitutio Criminalis Carolina, which sought to unify and standardize the legal code throughout the empire. While a meeting at Worms in 1542 primarily concerned financing. At the Diet of Nuremberg in 1544, Charles sought financing and aid for his invasion of France. In return, the emperor agreed to suspend anti-Protestant edicts and trials and agreed to use church property that had already been secularized in parts of the empire. This represented a turning point in Charles’ political views—perhaps, for the first time, some official recognition of the Protestants occurred outside of their position as base heretics. Charles also agreed that another attempt at a national council should be held soon to deal with religious matters. Brandenburg and several other princes signed into the emperor’s anti-French coalition and agreed to furnish troops. Representatives of Christian II were also present at Nuremberg—reaching an agreement with the emperor regarding Dutch merchants in the Baltic, who had increasingly begun to take a growing interest in the Baltic trade over Lübeck. The Treaty of Nuremberg between Denmark and the Emperor granted Dutch merchants access to the Baltic Sea—whose merchants were increasingly entering into rivalries with the merchants of Lübeck. It was agreed that the Dutch would be granted a favored status regarding the tolls; in return, Denmark received the right to purchase Dutch cargo as it passed through the sound and the emperor’s support in modernizing tolls: under Christian II, a copper duty would be introduced alongside a duty rate of one percent for non-privileged goods.
Siege of Asola, c. 1545.
Throughout 1543, Maximilian did his best to ingratiate himself in Bohemia, dispensing bribes from his wagon train liberally among the Catholic and Protestant nobility. He agitated for their approval of the marriage, which many were willing to give, provided there would be an end to Mary’s regency, and the kingdom’s religious reforms and traditional laws would be respected. “Maximilian’s return to Bohemia from the battlefield of Royal Hungary saw him return to the Bohemian court a year older and wiser—and more handsome, too.” one member of Maximilian’s entourage would write in a letter back home. “Queen Elisabeth, having celebrated her eighteenth birthday, looked kindly upon her cousin—perhaps with more than mere familial concern.” Maximilian had spent his time in Hungary wisely and sustained his relationship with Elisabeth primarily through letters. One such letter saw the young queen confide her true feelings to him: “What joy it has been to have you with us in Prague—and what fear it is to know you presently fight so eagerly for our cause in Hungary. Each day brings a new unknown; I tremble with each letter, wondering if perhaps the next shall hold news of your death. Such loss would be most difficult for me to endure… indeed, knowing I am betrothed and not to you only increases my agonies, knowing that in another year, I shall perhaps be wed, and our contact must cease.” Soon, upon Maximilian’s return to Prague, he embarked on perhaps one of the most romantic adventures of his life: his future marriage to the Queen of Bohemia. Late one night in June 1543, the plan was set into motion: Roggendorf aided Maximilian in secreting the young queen into his chambers—where Maximilian awaited alongside Elisabeth’s tutor, Bohuslav Bílejovsky. Bílejovský, a Utraquist priest, married the young couple shortly before three am—and the marriage consummated shortly after that. Queen Elisabeth would return to her chambers shortly before daybreak—now a married woman.
The Bohemian Diet assembled the next morning for routine business. Queen Elisabeth, unusually, attended and asked permission to address the diet in what would become known as her Golden Speech. “Milords,” the young queen began. “I come before you concerning the Capitulations of Prague, signed upon my ascension. I am well aware of the delicate negotiations between our crown and that of Saxony concerning my potential marriage. Still, I ask instead that you consider another marriage—that which I have made of my own choice and selected by my hand—the choice of my cousin and dearest friend, Prince Maximilian. I ask that, per the Capitulations, you confirm my choice—both as my husband and as King of Bohemia.” The diet was divided between jeers and cheers; everyone could note the stony countenance on the queen regent’s face. Underneath her nose, her daughter had been wooed and wed by the one she had not wished him to marry in any circumstance. In a narrow vote, the diet agreed to confirm the queen’s choice and to terminate her mother’s regency. That evening, the pair were once again wed—officially, this time, in the royal chapel of the Castle of Prague. Maximilian saw to it that the pair were married by his Catholic confessor in secrecy that same night so that the marriage would be indisputably legitimate. Maximilian was crowned King of Bohemia the next day, and his first act was to confirm the present council and to name Roggendorf as Hofmeister to serve as his deputy in Bohemia during his absence. Maximilian also signed an oath, pledging to respect the established church order in Bohemia and to promise that Elisabeth would continue to have freedom to worship in the Bohemian church—and that all religious decisions would remain in the hands of the queen for her lifetime. After losing the regency, Mary did not remain in Prague—she chose to retire near Teplitz, where she had stayed almost a decade before. Her dower lands were confirmed by Maximilian, along with her present income.
It was little surprise that Maximilian’s adventures in Bohemia provoked a protest from Saxony—with the Saxon Elector withdrawing his support for Charles’ planned invasion of France. Still, Charles could count upon Brandenburg and the Palatinate alongside other minor German princes. By May of 1544, Charles had gathered around 44,000 men to support his invasion of France—divided into two armies. The first army, under the command of the Prince of Orange, was to be situated in the Low Countries near Limburg, while the second force was under the personal command of Charles based in the Palatinate. Orange had little problem seizing Luxembourg back from the French and soon moved towards Commercy. Imperial forces soon converged in Lorraine, where much of the Duchy was put under imperial occupation. As they pushed into Champagne, the imperial troops began the Siege of Saint-Dizier, the royal fortress that guarded France’s eastern approaches. “The fortress at Saint-Dizier was the crown jewel of France’s defenses in champagne,” one French historian would write nearly a century later. “It was built to withstand anything that could be tossed towards it.”
In the meantime, Mary had sent 38,000 men to Calais under the joint command of the Duke of Norfolk and the Earl of Arundel. The forces included 30,000 infantry (of which 8,000 were Landsknecht paid for by imperial funds) and 6,000 cavalry—2,000 of which were mercenaries. The English army had learned from John’s fights in Denmark and comprised an adequate amount of cuirassiers, arquebusiers, and artillery. In many ways, the English army sent to France in 1544 represented the death of England’s old martial traditions: those armed with longbows comprised less than one percent of the total forces. Upon landing, the army was decided to be split into two equal forces. Norfolk used his forces to besiege Ardes quickly before focusing on Boulogne. Arundel was ordered to use his forces to support the imperial movement in the east—though the emperor insisted they should move towards Paris. Despite the movement into France, Saint-Dizier held against the Imperial siege and did not fall until nearly forty days later—valiantly supported by the Count of Sancerre and supplies provided by the Dauphin’s armies. The French garrison was allowed to leave Saint-Dizier in good order. Though the fall of Saint-Dizier had opened the road into France, the delay of over a month meant that the time for an offensive had been lost. Some within the emperor’s war party recommended he withdraw back to Germany, but Charles was intent on moving forward. “The bastard will be vanquished,” Charles reportedly uttered. “This is the closest we have come to cracking this egg, and we shall do it.” Matters in Italy fared not much better: Louis IV had squashed the troops under the Duke of Calabria in Calabria, but the Baron of Breda had managed to occupy a portion of Lombardy. Charles ordered his troops to press towards Châlons, though forces under the Dauphin prevented Charles from attempting to cross the Meuse. An offensive in Champagne resulted in the rapid fall of several cities: Soissons, Épernay, and Châtillion-sur-Marne—where Emperor Charles V sustained an injury to his leg.
In September, Boulogne fell soon after—allowing England to seize the city that had been redeemed for a pittance nearly two decades previously. A stalemate developed in northern France, and while a panic developed in Paris, François insisted that the populace had nothing to fear—an army of some 40,000 was stationed near the capital to prevent its fall. Still, it was clear to all involved that France had been dealt a bloodied nose. Charles saw it more prudent to withdraw on a high note—his finances were still in disarray, and simmering religious issues meant the need to come to a quick peace. Queen Mary of England, too, was receptive to the need to make peace—assuming her demands regarding Boulogne were met. Representatives of England, France, and the emperor met at Compiègne in Picardie. The Treaty of Compiègne in 1544 agreed that the status quo in 1538 should be recognized. Charles would drop his claims to the Duchy of Burgundy. At the same time, François would renounce his rights to Artois and Franche-Comté as a dowry for his son—accepting that the sum paid for Isabelle’s dowry and closing all discussions upon the matter. In the matter of Italy, it agreed that some arrangement should be reached: Charles agreed to enfeoff the Duke of Orléans as Duke of Milan—and in return, he would wed either his daughter Adéläide or his niece Leonor. A secret clause concerned the region of Parma in the Duchy of Milan—with Charles agreeing that Parma would be raised to a duchy and granted to François’ illegitimate son, Octave. François also agreed to return Savoy to the Duke of Savoy—and to enter into an alliance with the emperor aimed against the Ottomans. A second secret clause concerned the matter of the church—with François agreeing to support Charles in creating a Church Council. For England, it was agreed that the city of Boulogne would return into English hands, to be redeemed in 1554 for two million écus. “At such a price, the town shall remain English forever onward,” one imperial representative uttered. The conflict of 1542-44 proved exorbitantly expensive to both Charles and François, forcing the French king to seek new taxation and financial reforms. Though the war proved expensive for England, it would also lay the ground for further financial innovations later in Mary’s reign.
[1]OTL René of Châlon. Philibert still lives, so he bears his paternal surname.
[2]A bit more than IOTL, to account for improved French luck in ATL.
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This is a long one! Whew. Almost 10k words here. I've editted it and trimmed where I can, but I'm just ready to post it. Whew! There may be some mistakes. Hope you all enjoy!
Chapter 36. The Italian War of 1542-1544
1540-1546; England, France, Germany, Italy, Scotland & Spain.
“War is just when it is necessary; arms are permissible when there is no hope except in arms.”
— Titius Livius, quoted by Machivelli
Musical Accompaniment: Pavane & Galliarde de la Guerre
Sieges in Northern France during the 1542-44 Italian War.
Conflict between the Habsburg and Valois had raged for nearly twenty years, with Emperor Charles V and King François fighting for influence and control over the Italian peninsula. The peace of Lucca laid the seeds of the Italian War of 1542. The treaty of 1539 had made no changes to Italy’s makeup, and the emperor and the king had left the negotiation tables more embittered than ever. For François, he had despised waiving his rights to Artois and Franche-Comté in exchange for the Duchy of Milan. Though the King of France had received 500,000 crowns as the Dauphine Isabelle’s dowry, he could not help but glower to his council: “That devil has swindled me once again.” For Charles, his anger lay in Italy: not only was French rule cemented in Milan with each passing year, but the rule of the House of Lorraine over Naples was also cemented. If things continued the way they did, there would be no improvement.
Charles had carried out his Italienzug successfully in 1540 and was formally crowned Holy Roman Emperor by Pius V—one of his last acts as Pope before his death. Pius V’s successor, Gelasius III, was no friend of the French. Upon Charles’ departure from Rome, he and his wife, the Empress Renée, were invited to travel back to the Low Countries through France. They were received by the French court at Fontainebleau, where François spared no expense to show France’s glory and power. “The emperor and empress entered the Château in a golden carriage, pulled by six white horses,” an imperial observer wrote in his private journals. “Days were spent in revelry—King François hosted feasts, masques, and several jousting tournaments, one of which carried a prize of 2000 ducats. The emperor spent much time with his daughter, the Dauphine, who had recently given birth to a daughter named Jeanne, who lived less than a day. He fretted over her; when he was not with his daughter, he met privately with King François, hoping to solve their issues…” It was at Fontainebleau that Charles sought a solution to the Duchy of Milan and the Duchy of Savoy. Charles proposed that if François was willing to return Savoy to the Duke of Savoy, then he would enfeoff François’ second son, the Duke of Orléans, as Duke of Milan and Lord of Genoa—with the promise of the hand of one of his daughters, or the hand of one of his Spanish nieces. The offer did not tempt François; Milan remained firmly in his grasp, as did Savoy—why should he make sacrifices? François intimated that such an offer would be acceptable only if the Dauphin received the rightful territories promised to him—Artois and Franche-Comté. Too many differences separated them; Charles made no progress with his host on political or religious matters. By June 1541, the talks had completely collapsed. Charles left France empty-handed, and he and Renée soon returned to the Low Countries.
The talks at Fontainebleau proved to be a farce. One historian later wrote, “Emperor Charles and King François met at Fontainebleau with their fingers crossed behind their backs. Neither had any true desire to reconcile.” François had already begun to seek out allies who might counter the emperor—in 1540, François wed his daughter Victoire to Duke Wilhelm of Jülich-Cleves-Burg, seeking to use the duke’s claims to Guelders as a wedge against the emperor. Despite François’ overt policies at home against the Protestants, he still saw the German Protestants as useful allies against imperial authority. He sought to reach an accommodation with the League of Mülhausen, a defensive league of Protestant princes, but they demurred from offering France open support. Though France received little support in northern Germany, he succeeded in renewing relations with the Kingdom of Hungary, where French artillery served alongside the royal troops. In Poland, French attempts were firmly rebuffed—with Sigismund perhaps influenced by his daughter-in-law, Marie of Austria, who had become his quick favorite. “When we last fought for the French,” Sigismund railed when he dressed down the French envoy. “We received a bloody nose—and nothing that we were promised.” Hungary remained in chaos—and Suleiman and the Ottomans hoped to use it to their advantage, with grave hopes that the Franks might bleed each other dry.
A second part of François’ diplomatic axis looked towards France’s ancestral ally in Scotland. In 1541, shortly after the birth of Princess Anne of Scotland, Charlotte encouraged her husband to reaffirm his ties once again with France. The Treaty of Edinburgh in 1541 reaffirmed the Auld Alliance and arranged for a betrothal between King François’ grandchildren—with Princess Anne betrothed to the Dauphin’s eldest son, François (b. 1539). One minor point of the renewal treaty concerned the rights of Catherine Stuart, the Countess of Boulogne and heiress of the Duke of Albany. Alexander IV agreed to a marriage proposed by King François between Catherine and Louis de La Trémoille, Viscount of Thouars. He agreed to release certain funds owed to Catherine that had been sequestered in Scotland and provide her an annual pension of £2500. In return, Catherine waived any rights to the lands associated with the Duchy of Albany. One final clause saw Alexander IV formally recognize Catherine as a Princess of Scotland—with recognized rights to the throne of Scotland behind himself and any issue he might have.
Charles was not inactive in the diplomatic game, either. The death of Pope Pius V brought about the succession of Gelasius III—who was considered much less cautious than his predecessor and no real friend to the French. Papal finances remained ruinous, with much of the wealth from the 1540 jubilee used to pay off arrears and the cost of the imperial coronation. “The Church is in no position to render active aid,” Gelasius wrote in a secret letter to the emperor. “But we support your cause whole-heartedly… if you can liberate Milan from the French, then we shall also do our part.” Ferdinand, the emperor’s brother in Spain, was also prepared to offer his part, seeing it as a chance to regain the Aragonese patrimony in Naples. “We shall conquer Naples,” Ferdinand wrote in his journal. “The Lorrainers hold what is ours by right, put in their place by the French… even still, the French finance the Neapolitan pirates who plague the Mediterranean. They raid and plunder who they please, Christians and Moslems alike. Should my dreams of a Reconquista ever hope to pass, they must be dealt with.” Charles and Ferdinand secretly signed the Pact of Ostend, ratifying a mutual protection alliance aimed at France. Charles pledged to support Spanish efforts in southern Italy as part of the pact. Charles also pledged that should Naples be reclaimed, he would abdicate the crowns of Naples and Sicily in favor of Ferdinand. Ferdinand, in turn, pledged support against France—pledging to open a front in southern France and to render aid to imperial efforts in northern Italy—both with men and money.
Charles could not help but look to England, his most natural ally as Duke of Burgundy. With Scotland still connected to France, it seemed expedient that the emperor should resume warm relations with his family in England—his nephew and his cousin, the King and Queen of England. The end of Catherine of Aragon’s regency had seen England enter a relative period of peace. Mary had supported her husband’s efforts in Denmark to restore his father, but England had remained aloof from continental feuds. Charles wasted little time, and in 1541, he dispatched a new ambassador to England—François van der Delft. Delft first met with the English sovereigns at Eltham Palace. “The imperial ambassador arrived before noon,” Charles Blount, Baron Mountjoy, wrote in a letter to his sister, Catherine Blount, who was absent from court. “His name is François van der Delft, a Fleming. He is a little taller than the queen but much shorter than the king… with all the courteous manners of a Frenchman. He offered the king his obeisance to his audience before kissing the queen’s ring. He could not help but lament the lapse in relations between the houses of England and Austria. He is certainly a witty man—both the king and queen laughed at his japes, and soon, he became a treasured queen’s pet, as you know some of these envoys often become. She has taken to calling him her petit frog!”
Mary Tudor, circa 1542; AI Generated.
If any troubles existed between England and the emperor, his envoy proved apt at smoothing them over. By late 1541, King John was summoned to Denmark at the behest of his father—to deal with troubles brewing there. As before, John bade the council obey and command Mary as they had before her marriage and said that all her decisions were to be treated as his own. The imperial envoy was present at Dover as Mary (then unaware that she was pregnant) bade farewell to John in March 1542. “When I am gone, your little frog will no doubt take his chance,” John reportedly told Mary at their final meeting. “There is little doubt that he shall seek to renew our alliance. I say only this: the emperor is our true friend, but I remind you that his promised gifts are often promises.” It was something that John understood well—his pension from the Low Countries was worth some £2000 per annum and had been paid out erratically since his arrival in England in 1530. The arrears alone now stood at some £10,000. England had not been untouched by Charles’ empty promises. The emperor’s debts to England totaled some £150,000—this total was what was publicly known. Some within the council spoke of possible loans that Catherine had made to the emperor secretly worth another £50,000, if not more; some alleged that the queen dowager had deposited the receipts to these loans within the treasury and her household accounts. She had ordered them burnt either at the termination of her regency or upon her deathbed, proving their existence a murky mystery. There also remained the question of the emperor’s so-called golden promise, which he had used as a carrot to obtain further loans from the English crown on favorable terms: a promise of 250,000 ducats to be added to Mary’s dowry when she married.
For Mary, there was no use worrying over such sums. Mary wrote in her private journal: “It is not that they are minuscule amounts (they are not); or that they are not important (they are). It is the fact that it will do no good for us to haggle over them like washerwomen. The emperor knows well what he owes—and perhaps even more if rumors are to be believed. Better to use these sums as a cudgel for favorable terms of an alliance—not a reason to pull us apart.” Despite John’s counsel before his departure, Mary ratified the Treaty of Westminster shortly after his departure in March 1542. Within the terms, Mary agreed to enter an alliance against France. Mary agreed to declare war upon France within two years, promising to assist the imperial army in northern France. In return, Charles promised to support English claims to Boulogne. The most important clause concerned Charles’ debts to England—Charles agreed to mortgage Gravelines and Dunkirk to England. In return, Charles would be allowed to redeem both towns for a payment of £300,000—the total of his debts and part of his promised addition to the queen’s dowry. “It has proven a brilliant stroke of diplomacy,” Thomas Goodrich, Bishop of Ely and Lord Chancellor since 1540, wrote in his journals. “We have received compensation, and in due time, we shall receive what is owed. The emperor will be honor-bound to repay us… he cannot look to be seen as the man who mortgages his dominions and cannot purchase them back.” Parliament was also assembled under Mary’s aegis, opening in 1542—providing eager subsidies to the crown for the queen’s planned adventures abroad.
The last of the emperor’s diplomatic plays concerned his son, Maximilian. Charles granted his son, Maximilian—then fifteen—his first command of 10,000 troops. “I am entrusting you with a mission of great importance,” Charles allegedly explained to his son. “More important than the battles on our borders—it concerns our crown and your future. Your mother, the late empress, God rest her soul—her only wish was that you should succeed me in Burgundy and Austria as emperor. I fear that her dream may not come to pass unless we ask quickly… and that is why you must go to Prague.” Queen Elisabeth of Bohemia—Maximilian’s future consort and true betrothed was now sixteen—nearly seventeen. Charles did not doubt that his sister Mary would seek to hold the regency until the last possible moment… she would not seek to wed off Elisabeth until after the termination of her regency. Charles had no interest in seizing Bohemia by force; seizing it by marriage would be a different situation. “Just as his great-grandfather had embarked on a journey to wed Marie of Burgundy,” one historian noted. “Prince Maximilian rode forth to wed his bride.” Maximilian was quite handsome at fifteen—he possessed his mother’s coloring with his father’s eyes. He had a strong and prominent nose—and his Habsburg jaw was less prominent than his father’s. Maximilian was boisterous much like his late mother—and possessed an athletic figure honed through hunting and hawking parties. “Empress Mary perished—but not before bestowing upon me Adonis in the flesh,” Charles would allegedly write in a letter to his brother Ferdinand. “Maximilian is a handsome and happy boy—I do not doubt that Queen Elisabeth shall be quite charmed by her cousin.” To cover his subterfuge, Charles wrote to Mary—announcing that Maximilian would be coming to Bohemia with reinforcements to bolster her troops and the much belated financial aid he had promised. Maximilian’s wagon train was loaded with ƒ70,000, to be dispersed amongst the Bohemian nobility as an inducement. “Do everything you can to uphold the Roman faith,” Charles lectured his son—perhaps the only lesson Maximilian allowed to fall onto deaf ears.
Maximilian had arrived with 10,000 troops in Bohemia in the summer of 1542. “Prince Maximilian was welcomed warmly by his aunt upon his arrival,” a member of Maximilian’s cortege wrote in a letter home. “His troops proved a welcome boon to the queen regent’s cause, and she readily accepted the aid her brother had rendered her.” Maximilian was first received by his aunt at Prague Castle—where he was introduced to his cousin, Queen Elisabeth. “Though fifteen,” one Bohemian courtier wrote. “Prince Maximilian looked older than his age and stood taller than the queen, who her mother had long cosseted. The queen regent was certainly blind at that first meeting between the young pair—a look in the young queen’s eyes told us everything we needed to know.” Maximilian remained in Bohemia for over a year, where he served Roggendorf and Wilhelm von Fels. The young received his baptism of fire at the Battle of Nyitra, where Maximilian led a daring charge against Hungarian troops. Maximilian’s reinforcements proved vital following the Turkish occupation of Buda. What became known as Royal Hungary comprised the areas of northern Upper Hungary, and the region of Sopron bordering Austria for the first time fell under the control of Mary and Bohemia. A diet was summoned at Sopron that recognized Elisabeth for the first time as Queen of Hungary, with her mother holding the regency. The Hungarian administration was centered in Pozsony and divided into two distinct captaincies: the captaincy of Upper Hungary and the captaincy of Sopron, with day-to-day administration to be handled by a royal governor. Mary appointed Tamás Nádasdy as her governor—a renowned Hungarian landowner who gladly deserted to her cause. Much like Bohemia, the rump of Hungary under Mary’s aegis was governed by its laws and regulations.
Siege of Eger, painted c. 1552.
By the spring of 1542, relations between François and Charles reached a new low. François’ ambassador to Cleves, Lazare de Baïf, was killed near Jülich in mysterious circumstances—allegedly by imperial troops. François wasted no time in registering his protests. Charles denied all guilt in the matter but proclaimed that upon his honor, he would hold an inquiry to investigate the matter. This did little to appease François. “How can I trust a man who has broken my trust ten times over?” François reportedly exclaimed before the whole court. “He speaks of honor, but he is perhaps the most dishonorable man in all the Christendom!” By the summer of 1542, war was swirling in the air. François aired his grievances to all who would hear it—the Dauphin and Dauphine, the Duchess of Plaisance, and even the queen. When François formally declared war in July of 1542, his most odious remarks for the imperial envoy were pointed towards the unsolved murder of Baïf: “It is an injury so great, so detestable, and so strange to those that bear the title and quality of prince that it cannot in any way be forgiven, suffered, or endured.”
Following the declaration of war, France launched a two-pronged offensive aimed at the Low Countries and Spain. In the north, command of the army was given over to the Dauphin—who attacked Luxembourg in the Siege of Luxembourg. France’s southern forces were led by Claude d’Annebault, who began the Siege of Perpignan with some 40,000 men. Annebault hoped to take Perpignan with little issue, but he soon discovered Ferdinand of Asturias had reinforced the city. Spanish troops in Perpignan, led by Captain Bõlano, took the French besiegers by surprise in an early morning raid, where Bõlano’s troops set ablaze Annebault’s stocks of gunpowder, rendering the French heavy artillery useless. Though Annebault would continue to maintain the siege for several months, the French troops endured numerous hardships—lack of food, clothing, and pestilence that carried throughout the camp. When the Duke of Alba arrived in September 1542 to relieve Perpignan, Annebault withdrew—his troops having suffered heavy losses.
War meant that France focused entirely on victory—and that meant the proper supply of its soldiers, from food and clothing to the proper weaponry. François had long sought further funds for his treasury and, in 1541, published the Decree of Angoulême, which had extended the Gabelle, or salt tax, into Angoumois and Saintonge, which made the purchase of salt compulsory from the state granaries. The Gabelle had long been a hated tax amongst the French lower classes, and there was great resentment over possible reforms. The discontent soon spiraled into a full-blown revolt known as the Revolt of Pitauds—centered around France’s salt-producing regions along the coast. The first revolts against François’ financial reforms began in La Rochelle, where the king himself introduced 8000 troops to restore order, primarily through the brutal repression of salt smugglers and illegal salt traders. “We watched as the king’s troops hung twenty men,” one member of the La Rochelle bourgeois wrote in a letter to his mother. “One after another. Their heads were settled upon pikes to hang over the city gates and before the court. All the city is quiet—on the roads, crimson mingles with dirt and muck. No one is allowed in—and no one is allowed out. Each day, we hear of the royal troop’s exploits—butchering smugglers and seizing illegal saltworks.” François extracted a heavy payment from La Rochelle for their audacity and left a small garrison within the town to continue the work his troops had started.
As France focused on smashing through the Habsburgs in the Low Countries and Spain, they looked to their newfound ally in the Duke of Jülich-Cleves-Burg to cause trouble, centered squarely upon the Duchy of Guelders. Duke Charles II of Guelders had accepted Charles V as his heir on several occasions—in 1528 and again in 1536. Even in death, Charles of Guelders cursed the Habsburgs, choosing to will the Duchy of Guelders to a distant kinsman—Wilhelm, the Duke of Jülich-Cleves-Berg. Wilhelm saw his French marriage as a chance to increase his dominions further, and in 1542, he asked his father-in-law for support. François offered what he could—guns and artillery. Wilhelm also augmented his army with the support of Maarten van Rossum, the primary general of the Duchy of Guelders, who had pledged his support to Wilhelm. Rossum was well rewarded; he was given 15,000 men and ordered to raid Brabant. His initial plans involved crossing the Meuse into Maastricht—but the Habsburgs discovered these plans. Rossum elected to instead cross the Meuse near Njimegen, where he plundered De Peel, Rode, and Vught. Though his raids were successful, Rossum could not lay siege to Lier and Leuven. He soon set his sights upon Antwerp, hoping to take one of the jewels of the Burgundian Low Countries. Charles was quick to augment the defenses of Antwerp, and he took command of a force of 18,000 men to take up positions south of Antwerp in hopes of caging Rossum in. Prince Philibert of Orange commanded the left flank, while Charles Brandon, the Viscount of Strêye, held the right flank.
Engraving of Wilhelm, the Duke of Jülich-Cleves-Berg.
The Battle of Antwerp occurred when Rossum’s forces sought to besiege Antwerp. Caught from behind by Charles’ army, the imperial cavalry led by Strêye carried out a vicious charge against Rossum’s men, primarily targeting his so-called black riders. Rossum lost nearly 6000 men in the carnage, while the imperial forces lost only 2500 men. Rossum was forced to withdraw from Antwerp in disgrace—the surroundings of Antwerp and Leuven were saved from possible destruction. The emperor would finish the Guelders campaign—Charles would lead some 10,000 men and would succeed in occupying both Guelders and Jülich in September 1543. The Viscount of Strêye would play a vital role in the negotiations surrounding the Treaty of Maastricht, where the emperor entrusted him with handling the negotiations. Duke Wilhelm renounced his rights to Guelders and Zutphen in exchange for the return of Jülich. Maastricht proved to be the crowning glory of the Viscount of Strêye’s long and storied career in imperial service—he retired soon after to his estates and died in 1545. He would be near the Chapel of Saint Brigid near Fosses-la-Ville with an epitaph that reads simply in English—A Loyal Knight to His Empress.
“Charles Brandon was an enigma,” one historian would write in their biography about the viscount. “An English lord once in high favor, his hopes and dreams were dashed by the death of his benefactor, Henry VIII. His career prospects dimmed until he attached himself to the cause of Princess Mary Tudor, later Empress Mary. There were many rumors concerning Brandon’s relationship with the empress throughout their lives and even in the decades and centuries beyond… perhaps the most well-known historical tale, did they, or didn’t they? Modern research lends credence to a strictly platonic relationship steeped in courtly love and chivalry—popular in England, France, and Burgundy in the period. Romantic historical fiction, such as the classical work of Princess, Empress, written by Violet Bagshot, explored their relationship through the lens of an unrequited—and unconsummated love affair, carried throughout Mary’s life against the backdrop of her marriage to Charles V. In truth, Brandon’s career grew even further after Mary’s death. Brandon was held in high esteem by Charles V for his friendship with Mary, who often granted Brandon commands and high service—alongside a noble title. Brandon was transformed utterly from an Englishman into a Burgundian; he wed Anna van Egmont (the Elder), who gave him two sons and a daughter—while the daughters of his first wife would be wed to noblemen in the Low Countries. Following the Guelders campaign, Brandon retired to his estate near Erbisœul due to poor health. Following his death in 1545, his eldest son Henri, perhaps named after Brandon’s storied friend, succeeded to the viscounty. Brandon’s second son (and perhaps favorite) Charles received the domaine of Erbisœul and would be known as the Sieur de Erbisœul.”
As men battled throughout Europe, Queen Mary of England was prepared to determine England’s path forward as a renewed ally to the emperor. Mary had ordered in 1542 that all should be prepared for a campaign in 1543—sometime in the summer or fall. Musters were ordered in both the home counties and the north to ensure the readiness of the troops, while supplies were stored in Dover and Portsmouth, along with Durham and York in the north. “By October, the queen verged upon exhaustion, heavily pregnant and ensconced within her chamber for her lying-in. She prayed each morning, while the afternoon and evening were dedicated to her work,” Mary Howard, Dowager Countess of Essex, wrote in a letter to her sister-in-law, the Countess of Surrey. “From her bed, she signed paperwork and would even meet with her council… they would meet in the room directly behind the queen’s chamber, where a screen had been installed hidden by a damask curtain on each side. This allowed the queen to speak with her councilors without seeing or meeting with them, which was forbidden during her lying-in. It was not until All Souls Day that the queen went into labor, shortly before breakfast… things moved quickly. Before lunch, the queen had given birth to a bonny princess, whom she named Isabella in honor of grandmother Isabella of Castile. Her Majesty recovered quickly; within an hour of the birth, she indulged in a sallet before returning to her paperwork. By evening, she allowed herself to retire, and we played primo for several hours, and only for token sums... by the night’s end, I owed the queen £15.” Mary could focus more robustly on the war preparations following the end of her pregnancy. In December 1542, Mary named the Marquess of Exeter Lord High Admiral—whose tenure would prove quite innovative. Other focuses of the queen included the readiness of the royal wharves and ports alongside the Royal Navy’s ships. “I must place our trust in God,” Mary allegedly wrote in her private diary. “I have done all I can, and we must be the victors.” Mary issued an ultimatum to François in May 1543—she demanded that François must surrender Boulogne or pay £350,000—plus interest—that Mary claimed England was owed per the Treaty of Noyon. “Is the daughter now seeking to avenge her mother—as the mother did for her husband?” François reportedly laughed upon hearing of England’s demands. “Return to your mistress—and remind her that France’s finest knights defeated her father. France owes England nothing, and France shall give her nothing.”
6000 English troops arrived in Calais in June 1543 under the command of Sir Edward Aston, joined by Baron Mountjoy. “I am assigning you in the defense of the Low Countries—including our Pale,” Mary wrote in a letter addressed to Aston and Mountjoy. “We pray for your victory and that of England.” In truth, the situation did not look well: while François dithered near Reims, his son had proved more active. Though the Dauphin had failed to seize Luxembourg, he had oriented his troops towards Artois, where he had taken Béthune and Lesquin. The Dauphin, flushed from his victories, set his sights upon Lille. The good fortune that favored France did not carry into the fall when Wilhelm of Cleves was forced to surrender to imperial forces and give up his claims to Guelders and Zutphen. Fearing for his ally and son-in-law, François ordered the Dauphin to drop his siege at Lille and to return towards Luxembourg, where François had ordered the Duke of Vendôme to provide the Dauphin with all the support he needed. Luxembourg would fall to the French in September 1543—days after Wilhelm’s surrender. His focus now undivided, Charles V was prepared to march southward into France. The Anglo-Imperial force occupied Martigny, with Charles seeking to fight François’ troops head-on. François refused to be baited by the emperor—and in November, his troops retired towards Reims. Charles soon abandoned the hunt for François; his troops moved north to seize Cambrai with the help of the English, where they would encamp through the winter.
Engraving of Battle in the Strait of Messina.
In the Mediterranean, the Spanish fleet commanded by Álvaro de Bazán was struck by the French fleet at the Battle of Villefranche. Under the command of the Count of Enghien, the French fleet had several Genoese contingents under the command of Filippino Doria. While the French outnumbered the Spanish, the tides turned against them when Bazán’s galleys fired against the Genoese line, shattering the defenses of the brigantines that made up their front line. As Bazán surged forward, Doria’s flagship threw up its white flag and guided the Genoese ships away from Villefranche. “They are nothing but snakes!” Enghien reportedly exclaimed as he saw the Genoese ships slink into the horizon—back towards Genoa. Though Villefranche ended effectively as a stalemate, Spain had successfully boxed the French fleet in, which prevented them from supporting French squadrons in southern Italy. Bazán and his main squadron took sail from Villefranche towards Sicily, where Viceroy Ferrante Gonzaga, Prince of Molfetta, had raised an army of 20,000 men at Messina to fight for the reconquest of Naples, commanded by Don Ferdinando d’Aragona—Duke of Calabria and Viceroy of Valencia, who was also the son of King Federigo of Naples. The Duke of Calabria augmented the army with 5000 men, primarily Catalans from Aragon and Valencia. “Sicily has and always shall be free,” the Prince of Molfetta exclaimed in a speech before his men. “We are the ones who rose against the pernicious French two centuries ago, tossing them from our shores. Those in Naples are our kinsmen—and they deserve our aid and assistance!”
To throw off the Angevins, the Prince of Molfetta had spread lies that his troops would embark at Messina. He ordered that a false squadron should be anchored outside of Messina—decoy galleys and barges that were filled with various chemicals: quicklime, sulfur, gunpowder, and pine resin, along with several barges that would be used as fire ships. “Molfetta’s quick thinking paid off,” a Sicilian historian would write about the Italian Wars. “Louis IV fell for the false information and hoped to profit by striking Sicily first. He ordered a portion of the royal fleet, led by Admiral Carafa and several Marinaio units, to strike at Messina… hoping to open the way for an invasion of Sicily through Reggio, where Louis IV had stationed 22,000 men under the command of Charles of Navarre…” When Admiral Carafa’s fleet chanced upon the false squadron, he ordered his flagship, the Regina Luisa, to fire the first shot. Carafa’s shot hit directly near the middle of the false ships, which resulted in an intense explosion of hellfire. “Carafa’s grapeshot caused a massive explosion as the false ships ignited one after another—the normally calm waves riotous as they buckled back against the Neapolitan fleet, causing grave confusion. Some even exclaimed that the sea had begun to boil, and the flames continued to burn atop it, perhaps because of the chemicals used. Flaming debris scattered in all directions towards the Neapolitan fleet, flames spreading quicker through the fleet than they could be dealt with. From the fog of the flames came the fire ships—aimed directly at Carafa’s flagship as he attempted to signal a retreat—leading to his death.” The event of Molfetta’s genius would go down in history as the Ruse of Messina—resulting in the death of Admiral Carafa and some 5000 men. Twelve ships amongst the Neapolitan navy and the Marinaio were destroyed, with another forty-five scuttled soon after due to the damage they endured. These losses not only crippled the Neapolitan navy but ruined many Marinaio squadrons that were deprived of able captains and sailors.
The ruse’s success meant that Bazán could provide Ferdinando with much-needed naval support that would allow his troops to make landfall in Calabria—somewhere near Cosenza. Ferdinando’s army landed in Calabria in August 1543—the first troops sent by Spain to Naples in nearly fifteen years. Even fifteen years later, Naples’ provinces had checkered loyalties. Some were more loyal to the House of Lorraine than others, and there remained a strong segment within the Neapolitan aristocracy and commons that saw the so-called Angevins as upstarts and usurpers and desired a return to Spanish rule. Calabria had long been the most pro-Spanish of Naples’ provinces—perhaps due to its proximity to Sicily. Throughout the 1530s and early 1540s, great amounts of money, troops, and effort had been expended by Naples (with French support) to curb banditry and pro-Spanish elements within Calabria, with little success. Ferdinando’s army had little issue taking Cosenza—the city opened its gates without a fuss. Shouts of “Vive Re Carlo!” and “Vive Principe Ferdinando!” rang out alongside those of “Vive Duca di Calabria!” The Duke of Calabria’s army was now perfectly positioned to deal with the Neapolitan army in Reggio.
News of the damage wrought at Messina reached Reggio swiftly. Charles of Navarre had not dared bestir from Reggio—expecting that the Sicilians might seek to land nearby. The Navarrese commander was shocked when word arrived of the capture of Cosenza and that the Spaniards marched south towards his forces as he read the letter. “I must be frank—the mood here is mutinous,” Charles of Navarre wrote in a letter to Louis IV. “We have reinforced the Castello Aragonese with extra cannons, but I fear the reliability of my men. The good Frenchmen, Lorrainers, and Gascons amongst me shall fight for your cause until the end—but I cannot say the same for some Italians. I shall be taking leave of Reggio to make camp near Squillace in the hope of better ground.” Charles departed from Reggio, leaving behind a token garrison of 2000 men he considered the most unreliable. At Squillace, Charles seized the Castle of Squillace as his headquarters, property of Francesco Borgia—Prince of Squillace who remained in exile in Spain, having never rendered his allegiance to Louis IV. The Spaniards used their position from Cosenza to press further south into Calabria, hoping to seize total control of the province, especially the city of Reggio, which would enable supplies to be received more easily from Sicily. By early September, the Duke of Calabria’s forces had control of Castiglione and Catrone—destroying the pirate base that resided there. With Charles of Navarre’s forces boxed into the southern tip of Bari, the Duke of Calabria decided that now was his chance to strike. The Battle of Squillace saw the Spanish troops boldly triumph over the demoralized troops of Charles of Navarre—who was killed in battle by a cavalry charge. By the end of November, Spanish troops had been welcomed boldly into Reggio and held most of Calabria in their hands.
It was little surprise that England’s aggressive response prompted a response from Scotland. Scotland declared war upon England in September 1543—late in the campaigning season. Having gained political ascendency since the birth of her second child, Alexander, Queen Charlotte had become the head of Scotland’s pro-French party—advocating a warlike policy that sought revenge against England for Flodden. To the surprise of no one, George Seton, the Earl of Winton, was the queen’s counter as head of the pro-English—advocating that the king should seek a diplomatic answer. Though Alexander IV prevaricated and remained utterly besotted with Winton—for the first time, he supported his wife and declared war. The winter was spent in preparation, with Alexander IV resolved to lead the army in person—supported by the Earl of Winton, who was named second in command to the chagrin of many more senior earls. By the spring of 1544, Alexander IV had organized an army of 30,000 men and prepared to march into Scotland. “Alexander’s army represented a stark difference compared to his father’s army at Flodden,” one military historian would write. “The earls and military officers, rather than serving at the front as they had in James IV’s time, now commanded from the rear as any other Renaissance army. The cavalry remained outfitted with armor, albeit lighter—while their sabers were augmented with pistols and harquebuses. The infantry, too, had been modernized: musketeers had joined the swordsman and pikemen.” Alexander led his army into England, subjecting the fort at Berwick to a shellacking by his artillery. England’s troops in the north numbered some 26,000 men under the Earl of Shrewsbury. Despite England having fewer men, they possessed more cannons than the Scots. Shrewsbury ordered the way towards Newcastle blockaded and encouraged the city leaders to fire upon the Scots if they drew close. Shrewsbury’s had an ultimate plan—to force the Scots to cross south over River Tyne to advance further into England.
Engraving of Glasgow, 1544.
Shrewsbury battled against the Scots at the Battle of Alston Moor, where Shrewsbury was able to use the height of the moor to his advantage and pummeled the Scots with artillery fire. The battle lasted until the foggy evening—when Alexander IV was forced to withdraw his forces. Despite the Scottish loss at Alston Moor, their troops retreated in relatively good order, with their losses totaling only 3000 men—with the king and his officers unscathed. The loss soured moods amongst the Scottish nobility—but not towards the king. “All believed that the king listened too often to Winton—and not enough to his other lairds,” a Scottish noble would write several decades later in a private journal. “It was he who had opposed the war yet had greedily pushed the king to invade. Even as we retreated, the mood was dark and sour… all of us knew now was time to enact what we had agreed upon.” The writer spoke of what would become known as the Bond of Threave in which several Scottish nobles—primarily the Earls of Atholl, Rothes, and Huntly and the Lords Saltoun, Oliphant, and Ruthven agreed to murder the Earl of Winton. The bond was named after Threave Castle, allegedly because it had been signed there in Queen Charlotte’s presence; others alleged that Queen Charlotte herself signed the bond, though no copy exists. When the Scottish troops made camp near Hadrian’s Wall several nights following their defeat, it was then that they decided to carry out the bond.
The Earl of Winton was kidnapped from his tent upon his return from a visit to the royal tent—and highly intoxicated. Gagged and blindfolded, Winton was carried by his captors some distance from the campsite, where he was tied to a tree. The captors announced a list of charges before murdering him. Winton died from massive blood loss, being stabbed over sixty times, with each member of the bond extracting their revenge upon the upstart nobleman. Once the earl was dead, the conspirators cut off his head along with his genitals. His body was then split into five separate pieces before being set aflame. When morning arrived, the conspirators forced their way into the royal tent. “We announced to His Majesty that the Earl of Winton had died.” the Scottish noble continued. “We presented him with our prizes—his head and manhood, which had been placed in a wooden box. We proudly announced that Winton was a traitor and that we had murdered him for his crimes—that he was no true friend of the king but an enemy who had consorted with the English and wished for his death. We received no congratulations… the stone-faced king thanked us for our service and begged us to take our leave. He fell to the floor as we left…weeping and sobbing. By late morning, the king ordered the camp packed up as we continued towards Scotland. We passed by Winton’s corpse in solemn silence near the ruins of Hadrian’s Wall… the king’s lips pursed as we did so…” Upon Alexander’s return to Scotland, he ordered Parliament called—where Alexader IV passed a bill of attainder posthumously against the Earl of Winton—depriving his young son of both his wealth and titles. “Indeed, the king wept fiercely for some time,” one courtier wrote in a jape against the king. “But within weeks, his bed was soon warmed once again by the handsome Acciaioli. The king soon embraced a new summer of love in the spring of death.” Though it seemed that Alexander had moved forward, he had not forgotten Winton nor his ignominious death; he laid the death of his companion at the feet of the Lords Oliphant and Ruthven—knowing he could not dare alienate the earls involved. Oliphant and Ruthven were imprisoned and executed in November 1544. Alexander continued to pay the pension of £400 that Winton had received on the eve of his marriage, doubling the sum to £800 to ensure that Winton’s widow, Marie Pieris, would not be destitute.
While war raged across Western Europe, northern Italy in 1543 was strained under French domination. In Genoa, Filippino Doria returned to the city enraged against French actions at Villefranche. Doria turned to his aged uncle, Andrea Doria. Andrea had been named Prince of Uscio by King François in 1540, and Andrea, now seventy-seven, had recently retired from Genoa to his new fief. Filippino could not help but see the injustice in Genoa’s position—and railed against his uncle, still an important figure within Genoa, to do something. The wizened Andrea could only shrug and allegedly uttered to his nephew: “You are inspired and passionate… such a cause must be led by the young, not the old. There was once a time when I felt as you did, but perhaps I was overtly swayed by the awards offered before me. Genoa has rotted under the French, but we have done well. With every step, my bones ache. I have not been to sea in nearly three years. In you—you there is the blood of the Dorias. You must take the stead if you believe your cause is just.” Filippino retired from Uscio rejected—but also emboldened.
View of Genoa, c. 1590.
The Revolt of Genoa in late 1543 saw Filippino head the tides of discontented Genoese—primarily from the sons of the aristocrats to young merchants, sailors, and craftsmen against their failures to thrive in French-occupied Genoa. They agitated against the French occupation and railed against the so-called Lordship of Genoa. The protesters, who became known as frondeurs in French, were known for their slings, which they used to pelt the homes of French supporters with stones. The French Governor of Milan, François, the Count of Vaudémont, ordered the garrison in Genoa to be augmented with additional troops and ordered the city walls around Genoa to be reinforced with artillery. The Count of Vaudémont also dispersed funds for constructing a new fort within the city—the Forte Belvedere, which would become known as the Forte Lorena. Vaudémont was ruthless in dealing with the Genoese—his soldiers swept street by street to deal with the poorly equipped rioters. While many were dispersed and ordered sternly to return home, Filippino Doria was captured and executed, with pieces of his body placed across different parts of Genoa in a gruesome display.
In the remainder of French Italy, the French held firm. Charles had built up a force of some 21,000 men under René, the Baron of Breda[1], to invade Italy. However, François still retained a significant force in Italy—the Armée d’Italie probably numbered some 36,000 men—with 24,000 garrisoned in and around Lombardy under the Count of Vaudémont, while the remaining 12,000 were used as garrison troops throughout Italy—from Savoy to Florence, parts of the Papal States down to the Kingdom of Naples. Charles hoped to use the scattering of French troops across the Italian peninsula to his advantage. Charles’ visit to Venice in 1541 had not been without positive developments, as the emperor had signed a secret agreement with the Venetians, the Treaty of Treviso, which allowed imperial troops to pass through Venetian territory and represented an about-face in Venetian diplomacy for the first time in nearly thirty years, Venice had declared neutrality and not sided with the French troops. Imperial forces would clash with a portion of Vaudémont’s forces at the Battle of Ostiano in the summer of 1544—ending in a French victory. Despite this, René’s forces remained in good order—while Vaudémont was still forced to pull backward as news reached him of a planned invasion of France by Anglo-Imperial forces. “Retain what is needed to maintain our presence in Lombardy, but return what men you can from Lombardy and Savoy to France proper,” one letter from King François wrote.
Part of the Treaty of Westminster had bound Mary to support an invasion of France with her cousin, with both sides pledging 35,000 infantry and 7,000 cavalry for the venture. France, in turn, had around 90,000[2] from their various armies to resist the joint invasion—with almost 40,000 of those men committed to service in Italy. Both England and the emperor had other concerns—England with Scotland and the emperor with Germany. Queen Mary sent William Paget, recently ennobled as Baron Paget, to seek an accommodation with the Scots. Alexander IV had little stomach to forge a second campaign into England and readily agreed to a three-year truce with England—with arrangements to be made for a permanent peace treaty between the two sovereigns. “Paget proved his diplomatic worth at the court of Scotland,” one member of the Privy Council would write later on. “Not only did he disarm a potential enemy in the north, but he played a very important role in shaping Anglo-Scottish relations for the better.” It was agreed that Alexander and Mary would meet at York in 1547 to sign new peace accords.
Charles V also proved more successful in his endeavors in Germany, where a new diet was called. The Imperial Diet had met several times since Trier in 1532—in 1533, they met at Wetzlar to approve a new legal code, the Constitutio Criminalis Carolina, which sought to unify and standardize the legal code throughout the empire. While a meeting at Worms in 1542 primarily concerned financing. At the Diet of Nuremberg in 1544, Charles sought financing and aid for his invasion of France. In return, the emperor agreed to suspend anti-Protestant edicts and trials and agreed to use church property that had already been secularized in parts of the empire. This represented a turning point in Charles’ political views—perhaps, for the first time, some official recognition of the Protestants occurred outside of their position as base heretics. Charles also agreed that another attempt at a national council should be held soon to deal with religious matters. Brandenburg and several other princes signed into the emperor’s anti-French coalition and agreed to furnish troops. Representatives of Christian II were also present at Nuremberg—reaching an agreement with the emperor regarding Dutch merchants in the Baltic, who had increasingly begun to take a growing interest in the Baltic trade over Lübeck. The Treaty of Nuremberg between Denmark and the Emperor granted Dutch merchants access to the Baltic Sea—whose merchants were increasingly entering into rivalries with the merchants of Lübeck. It was agreed that the Dutch would be granted a favored status regarding the tolls; in return, Denmark received the right to purchase Dutch cargo as it passed through the sound and the emperor’s support in modernizing tolls: under Christian II, a copper duty would be introduced alongside a duty rate of one percent for non-privileged goods.
Siege of Asola, c. 1545.
Throughout 1543, Maximilian did his best to ingratiate himself in Bohemia, dispensing bribes from his wagon train liberally among the Catholic and Protestant nobility. He agitated for their approval of the marriage, which many were willing to give, provided there would be an end to Mary’s regency, and the kingdom’s religious reforms and traditional laws would be respected. “Maximilian’s return to Bohemia from the battlefield of Royal Hungary saw him return to the Bohemian court a year older and wiser—and more handsome, too.” one member of Maximilian’s entourage would write in a letter back home. “Queen Elisabeth, having celebrated her eighteenth birthday, looked kindly upon her cousin—perhaps with more than mere familial concern.” Maximilian had spent his time in Hungary wisely and sustained his relationship with Elisabeth primarily through letters. One such letter saw the young queen confide her true feelings to him: “What joy it has been to have you with us in Prague—and what fear it is to know you presently fight so eagerly for our cause in Hungary. Each day brings a new unknown; I tremble with each letter, wondering if perhaps the next shall hold news of your death. Such loss would be most difficult for me to endure… indeed, knowing I am betrothed and not to you only increases my agonies, knowing that in another year, I shall perhaps be wed, and our contact must cease.” Soon, upon Maximilian’s return to Prague, he embarked on perhaps one of the most romantic adventures of his life: his future marriage to the Queen of Bohemia. Late one night in June 1543, the plan was set into motion: Roggendorf aided Maximilian in secreting the young queen into his chambers—where Maximilian awaited alongside Elisabeth’s tutor, Bohuslav Bílejovsky. Bílejovský, a Utraquist priest, married the young couple shortly before three am—and the marriage consummated shortly after that. Queen Elisabeth would return to her chambers shortly before daybreak—now a married woman.
The Bohemian Diet assembled the next morning for routine business. Queen Elisabeth, unusually, attended and asked permission to address the diet in what would become known as her Golden Speech. “Milords,” the young queen began. “I come before you concerning the Capitulations of Prague, signed upon my ascension. I am well aware of the delicate negotiations between our crown and that of Saxony concerning my potential marriage. Still, I ask instead that you consider another marriage—that which I have made of my own choice and selected by my hand—the choice of my cousin and dearest friend, Prince Maximilian. I ask that, per the Capitulations, you confirm my choice—both as my husband and as King of Bohemia.” The diet was divided between jeers and cheers; everyone could note the stony countenance on the queen regent’s face. Underneath her nose, her daughter had been wooed and wed by the one she had not wished him to marry in any circumstance. In a narrow vote, the diet agreed to confirm the queen’s choice and to terminate her mother’s regency. That evening, the pair were once again wed—officially, this time, in the royal chapel of the Castle of Prague. Maximilian saw to it that the pair were married by his Catholic confessor in secrecy that same night so that the marriage would be indisputably legitimate. Maximilian was crowned King of Bohemia the next day, and his first act was to confirm the present council and to name Roggendorf as Hofmeister to serve as his deputy in Bohemia during his absence. Maximilian also signed an oath, pledging to respect the established church order in Bohemia and to promise that Elisabeth would continue to have freedom to worship in the Bohemian church—and that all religious decisions would remain in the hands of the queen for her lifetime. After losing the regency, Mary did not remain in Prague—she chose to retire near Teplitz, where she had stayed almost a decade before. Her dower lands were confirmed by Maximilian, along with her present income.
It was little surprise that Maximilian’s adventures in Bohemia provoked a protest from Saxony—with the Saxon Elector withdrawing his support for Charles’ planned invasion of France. Still, Charles could count upon Brandenburg and the Palatinate alongside other minor German princes. By May of 1544, Charles had gathered around 44,000 men to support his invasion of France—divided into two armies. The first army, under the command of the Prince of Orange, was to be situated in the Low Countries near Limburg, while the second force was under the personal command of Charles based in the Palatinate. Orange had little problem seizing Luxembourg back from the French and soon moved towards Commercy. Imperial forces soon converged in Lorraine, where much of the Duchy was put under imperial occupation. As they pushed into Champagne, the imperial troops began the Siege of Saint-Dizier, the royal fortress that guarded France’s eastern approaches. “The fortress at Saint-Dizier was the crown jewel of France’s defenses in champagne,” one French historian would write nearly a century later. “It was built to withstand anything that could be tossed towards it.”
Equestrian Portrait of Charles V, c. 1548
In the meantime, Mary had sent 38,000 men to Calais under the joint command of the Duke of Norfolk and the Earl of Arundel. The forces included 30,000 infantry (of which 8,000 were Landsknecht paid for by imperial funds) and 6,000 cavalry—2,000 of which were mercenaries. The English army had learned from John’s fights in Denmark and comprised an adequate amount of cuirassiers, arquebusiers, and artillery. In many ways, the English army sent to France in 1544 represented the death of England’s old martial traditions: those armed with longbows comprised less than one percent of the total forces. Upon landing, the army was decided to be split into two equal forces. Norfolk used his forces to besiege Ardes quickly before focusing on Boulogne. Arundel was ordered to use his forces to support the imperial movement in the east—though the emperor insisted they should move towards Paris. Despite the movement into France, Saint-Dizier held against the Imperial siege and did not fall until nearly forty days later—valiantly supported by the Count of Sancerre and supplies provided by the Dauphin’s armies. The French garrison was allowed to leave Saint-Dizier in good order. Though the fall of Saint-Dizier had opened the road into France, the delay of over a month meant that the time for an offensive had been lost. Some within the emperor’s war party recommended he withdraw back to Germany, but Charles was intent on moving forward. “The bastard will be vanquished,” Charles reportedly uttered. “This is the closest we have come to cracking this egg, and we shall do it.” Matters in Italy fared not much better: Louis IV had squashed the troops under the Duke of Calabria in Calabria, but the Baron of Breda had managed to occupy a portion of Lombardy. Charles ordered his troops to press towards Châlons, though forces under the Dauphin prevented Charles from attempting to cross the Meuse. An offensive in Champagne resulted in the rapid fall of several cities: Soissons, Épernay, and Châtillion-sur-Marne—where Emperor Charles V sustained an injury to his leg.
In September, Boulogne fell soon after—allowing England to seize the city that had been redeemed for a pittance nearly two decades previously. A stalemate developed in northern France, and while a panic developed in Paris, François insisted that the populace had nothing to fear—an army of some 40,000 was stationed near the capital to prevent its fall. Still, it was clear to all involved that France had been dealt a bloodied nose. Charles saw it more prudent to withdraw on a high note—his finances were still in disarray, and simmering religious issues meant the need to come to a quick peace. Queen Mary of England, too, was receptive to the need to make peace—assuming her demands regarding Boulogne were met. Representatives of England, France, and the emperor met at Compiègne in Picardie. The Treaty of Compiègne in 1544 agreed that the status quo in 1538 should be recognized. Charles would drop his claims to the Duchy of Burgundy. At the same time, François would renounce his rights to Artois and Franche-Comté as a dowry for his son—accepting that the sum paid for Isabelle’s dowry and closing all discussions upon the matter. In the matter of Italy, it agreed that some arrangement should be reached: Charles agreed to enfeoff the Duke of Orléans as Duke of Milan—and in return, he would wed either his daughter Adéläide or his niece Leanor. A secret clause concerned the region of Parma in the Duchy of Milan—with Charles agreeing that Parma would be raised to a duchy and granted to François’ illegitimate son, Octave. François also agreed to return Savoy to the Duke of Savoy—and to enter into an alliance with the emperor aimed against the Ottomans. A second secret clause concerned the matter of the church—with François agreeing to support Charles in creating a Church Council. For England, it was agreed that the city of Boulogne would return into English hands, to be redeemed in 1554 for two million écus. “At such a price, the town shall remain English forever onward,” one imperial representative uttered. The conflict of 1542-44 proved exorbitantly expensive to both Charles and François, forcing the French king to seek new taxation and financial reforms. Though the war proved expensive for England, it would also lay the ground for further financial innovations later in Mary’s reign.
[1]OTL René of Châlon. Philibert still lives, so he bears his paternal surname.
[2]A bit more than IOTL, to account for improved French luck in ATL.
Ooh here are the usual Francis and Charles who, as a practice even in alternative universes to ours, always look for a way to screw each other, very interesting developments are happening both in Italy and in the HRE ( with Maximilian who manages to marry the cousin thanks to a subterfuge, Charles who is forced to recognize the Protestants in some way, albeit reluctantly, the election of a pontiff who is no longer pro-French, as well as the domination of Paris in the region which is starting to show the first flaws ( the transfer of the Savoy to its legitimate owners, the revolt in Genoa and the landing of the Spanish in Naples ) the part concerning the reforms in England of Queen Mary I is very curious
P.s
it would be interesting if Charles , in order to try to consolidate his precarious position in the HRE ( compared to Otl ), tried to finance a peasant revolt under the table ( perhaps exploiting the Calvinist "heresy", which in this period was starting to spread in Otl, in particularly along the Rhine, and in Swabia ) against the minor Lutheran ( and non-Lutheran ) princes, to cause a situation of chaos, so as to have the excuse of his intervention to stop the escalation of militant fanaticism between the two rival confessions or of act in defense of the local ecclesiastical territories ( which would be the first subjects to be hit in the clash ) so that he can " legally " annex these territories to his archducal / Burgundian possessions ( and require adherence to Catholicism ) small curiosity, in the Bohemia of Otl, the Catholic hierarchy ( including their possessions ) almost no longer existed until 1547, so I don't know what Max promised his father, given that it belongs to the Sudetenland ( which had repeatedly tried to separate from the rest of the kingdom to be unified with the imperial possessions in Otl ) and tiny enclave in Moravia , Catholics in Wenceslas' Crownlands were almost no longer there at least until the Habsburgs took power, so it is more likely that Charles made a clause prohibiting the change of religion ( from Catholic to another ) in archducal territories so as to be more comfortable for the future, if his son proves to be like Otl Max II, i.e. quite apathetic / pragmatic on the religious question ( even if he sees well it could be worse in TL, given that he has an openly Protestant wife )
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Sad to see that France didn't win but they also didn't lose any major territory, hopefully there will be time for a round 3 that will allow them a major victory.
It was not a promise that Maximilian made to his father, but rather Charles asking Maximilian to do what he could re: the Status of Catholicism in Bohemia. Given that Bohemia has remained independent for another ~10 years under the regency of Mary of Austria (widow of Louis II of Hungary) the religious situation is about the same, minus Mary adopting the Protestant faith herself and spearheading an earlier version of the Bohemian Confession which has sought to meld the Utraquist Church settlement with Lutheran and even some Calvinist viewpoints. Catholicism is almost virtually extinguished among the commons, though there remain some noble families that adhere to the faith. Given that Max has married Elisabeth and will become the sovereign of Bohemia per the Compact of Prague, one of his first acts was to recognize the existing church settlement and to agree that any religious questions should remain in the hands of the queen, given that she is a Protestant. Against Charles' hopes, Max has essentially recognized the existing church system and has promised to abide by it. It says something that when Max wed the queen in secret, he ensured it was by a Bohemian / Utraquist priest firstly, before being held publicly. It was only after that the marriage was public and finalized that he had the marriage carried out by his own confessor via Catholic rites. You have a situation not dissimilar to the Austrian Habsburgs of the 16th-17th century, where they were Catholic but dealt with large Protestant minorities in Austria and Bohemia.
I don't want to say much re: Maximilian's religious faith and policies, but you can probably infer some similarities to the OTL Maximilian II. Certainly, he is a lot less priggish in his Catholicism compared to his his father, Charles V.
To be fair, I'd say this was the war in which they've done the worst in so far. To have imperial forces press into Champagne and their position in Italy to be threatened, François has certainly come out a lot stronger given that the Lorrainers have held on in Naples and the emperor has for the first time agreed to recognize French control over Milan, albeit in a junior line. That alone could have many problems and certainly the Dauphin will likely protest such an arrangement... his half-brother, eldest son of the hated Queen Beatriz is being groomed to be the next Duke of Milan: with a Habsburg wife to boot. It makes the question over Princess Isabelle's promised dowry all those years ago even more important, and an idea that the Dauphin might pursue when he comes to the crown.
This is likely the last match between François and Charles, though. The next match will likely be between their sons... brother-in-law against brother-in-law.
You are correct. Fixed!
Unfortunately. not much Maximilian can do now... and to be fair, I'd say there's not much he wants to do about it. We'll explore his character more very soon, but he is quite different from his father.
I think it would be interesting if the Pope sent some reps to the "national" council to observe, especially since he is more pro-imperial than his predecessor. Hopefully with this war ending, we can get a more or less kinda sorta on time Council of not-Trent that can jump-start the Catholic response to the Protestant revolt
A French duke of Milan, a French duke of Parma, a French king of Naples... French influence in the peninsula is absolute, a French pope (as unlikely as that is at this point) would ensure Italy remains within the French sphere for the rest of modern history. Meanwhile the French claim to the Low Countries diminishes rapidly.
Louis XIV showed how little that mattered OTL so we'll see how it goes here
I think that is a real possibility. Pius V proved much too timid in the face of the Synod of Trier—to the benefit of the Honorians and the Imperial Party. Gelasius would prove more prudent to give any next council in Germany some official sanction.
As for a council as a whole—Charles and François agreeing to work together has often been a nothing burger, but both entering into the final epochs of their reign might choose to close this chapter on a better note. Attempts by the French solely to bring about a council failed. The emperor signifying interest could be a buy in for both the Spanish and English. At this point, something must be done to staunch the bleeding.
On paper, it sounds amazing right?
But I think in reality it may cause even more issues. The Duke of Milan and Lordship of Genoa will be going to the Duke of Orléans—who at this point is Philippe Emmanuel, François’ second son, and the eldest son of Queen Beatriz, who is well known for her pro-Habsburg views. Since his birth she has agitated for her son to have a rightful place somewhere, and now she’s gotten it. A Habsburg princess for him is just icing on the cake. His youth also means a possible regency, depending on when François dies (c. 1547 for instance, Philippe would be only twelve). His mother as regent, with her strained relations with France and her elder step-son does not set the groundwork for peace in Italy.
Parma is a bit better, since it’ll go to Anne Boullan’s eldest son. You still face the prospect of a possible regency, not to mention her Protestant views. There’s also the fact that Parma up until now has been part of Milan, and Beatriz and Anne hate one another… there is no doubt that these two half brothers who have been made Dukes next to each other will probably not have good relations—Beatriz will no doubt be slighted that her son has seen his patrimony reduced for a bastard, while Anne’s son may look towards France for support—stirring up the pot re: Milan.
And then Naples of course remains under the House of Lorraine. Assuming Louis IV can centralize his administration and stabilize things, his future heirs will inherit a very wealthy kingdom. His heirs may not necessarily look towards France as Louis does now.
Indeed. With the right monarchs, the later sixteenth century may end much better for France. I’d say François II will be well positioned to reignite the feudwith his brother-in-law Maximilian. Ferdinand in Spain may prove much less supportive towards the Burgundian Habsburgs, as well once Charles is gone and he’s king in his own right.
And who’s to say how Maximilian and Fernando Alonso might get along? They are Two cousins who have never even set eyes upon each other.
Is it wrong of me to want for the Austrian Hapsburgs and the Spanish ones to get into a fight? Because I want this so bad.
Honestly — it is not as far fetched as you might think?
Charles’ heir seems to be… more tolerant than his father. He has married a Protestant and his children may be raised in a co-religious household. Ferdinand on the other hand is an ardent Catholic, and his own policies reflect that.
France up until has used the Protestant princes as a cudgel against the emperor, but you have seen François take some steps towards a more Catholic policy, especially within France. Their domination of Italy means that they see the Turks in the same light as the remainder of Europe.
It wouldn’t be surprising if François II, devoted to his wife and everything his father is not, becomes quite religious and sanctions a Catholic foreign policy as well, devoted to providing a check against heretics as well as the Turk. In a situation that like, Spain and France have more in common than they do apart—and certainly more in common than they might share with the imperial line.
At this point, at least in Europe—there is not much to divide France and Spain once the emperor is gone. Especially if Italy becomes a vested area of French influence.
Can't see what right Francis II would have in opposing his brother's Hapsburg marriage when he himself is married to Charles V's daughter.
The marriage is not necessarily the issue: it's the lands he'll receive from said marriage.
The Dauphin could very well argue the treaty is prejudicial to his own rights, since Milan has been held through François' reign and Louis XII's before that in personal union with France. François is agreeing to spin off Milan while renouncing claims to Artois and Franche-Comte: so in effect, the Duke of Orléans is being rewarded while the Dauphin in effect is losing his rights through his marriage.
Much like Crépy IOTL, François might also be required to add additional lands to Philippe-Emmanuel's appanage. Obviously the Duke of Orléans-Milan does not compare to that of the crown of France, but it all together it could make him a formidable font of influence in both France and Italy. Given Beatriz's poor relations with the Dauphin, I do not expect the two brothers to get along or have good relations. This will be worse when Philippe-Emmanuel does inherit Milan, since he'll be removed from the French court and that close contact will be gone.
Holy heck this was one big whopper of an update! So much to focus on!
Elisabeth: “He was hot, mom! Can’t I make my own choices, gosh!”
This was such a strong last great war between Francis and Charles! Soon the old guard will be gone. Sigismund can’t be long for this world either. We probably need a portrait gallery for the major players of Europe once Christian II and Ferdinand Habsburg have died too since the new generation of rulers are from the 1510s/1520s and most (if not all) are after the pod! Can’t wait to see what happens next <3 (long comment over!)
At least Charles gets a reunion with his girl!
Trying to get these two knuckleheads to agree to anything is like trying to herd cats
Interesting that it’s in bold. Does this imply that she’d be behind his bastards too? Although given Alex’ nature, bastards might not be too likely
Well, we now know that Mary has to be played by Lotte Verbeek in a ttl historical drama series!
Mary Tudor, circa 1542; AI Generated
Good on Mary. She knows that Charles is cheap and greedy, and the only way to get worth out of him is by land treaties he can’t dither on. England is about to get a serious foothold on the continent!
We need portraits of adult Maximilian. For plot reasons ofc
I need Protestant Austrian Habsburg branch
RIP Charlie B. Even though Henry perished, you still managed to get far by charming a Tudor. You legend
Welcome princess! Although, she would be Elizabeth, since Elizabeth/Elisabeth is both the English and the Danish version of Isabella. She’d also be named for John’s mother, Isabella of Austria, I imagine (although she was herself named for Isabella of Castile, her grandmother, as well)
Ngl, I want Trastamara Naples-Sicily with Ferdinando… But I’ll settle for Ferdinand Habsburg as king of a Spanish Naples-Sicily
Scotland has an heir! Alex closed his eyes and thought of Scotland enough! (Although no Scotland as part of Oldenburg Britain…)
Christ, that was wild. Alexander has quite a callous heart, with him taking his boytoy’s titles from his heir. At least he executed some offenders as revenge and the widow won’t be broke… Scotland is such a hot mess ttl and I stan
Jane Seymour moving up in the world!
The Danish finances are improving! Hopefully they don’t rely too much on the toll here as we kinda did otl. It kinda meant that we didn’t have to improve as much other places, and thus we fell behind in some areas
Mary: “You risked your kingdom’s soul!”
Elisabeth: “He was hot, mom! Can’t I make my own choices, gosh!”
You snooze, you lose, Saxony
All these wars for so little difference… At least England has gotten a good deal out of this mess, and Italy seems to be sorta settled (for now). Ngl, I’m not team France, so I hope that French influence in Italy will be way lessened soon… I do like Valois-Boulain Parma though. This treaty will likely only last ~a decade though. Soon, Charles and Francis will be dead and their kids will be ruling instead, and then it can start all over. Them joining against the Ottomans is interesting though! Crusade time? Still, it’s been interesting to see how much Europe has bled for the egos of these two old fools, and how so much has changed without otl’s Pavia results
Mary the economist??? Very cool! I wonder when England will get into the colonial game too. With a solid base in an expanded Pale of Calais, maybe they get heavier into the wool-cloth trade too.
✨Protestant Habsburg HRE✨
Massive Valois infighting due to jealous brothers deffo sounds interesting!
And massive Habsburg fighting too?? With an added twist of religious differences??
This was such a strong last great war between Francis and Charles! Soon the old guard will be gone. Sigismund can’t be long for this world either. We probably need a portrait gallery for the major players of Europe once Christian II and Ferdinand Habsburg have died too since the new generation of rulers are from the 1510s/1520s and most (if not all) are after the pod! Can’t wait to see what happens next <3 (long comment over!)
I was awaiting your comments Dane!!
But there were also English princesses who were known as Isabella, primarily Plantagenet princesses. Even as late as the 14th century there was Isabella, Countess of Bedford, which was used alongside / separately from Elizabeth. Much how French has two different translations for the names: Isabelle vs. Elisabeth. So the princess is indeed named Isabella, rather than Elizabeth, and perhaps plays a revival of the name in England.
More like if Alex remarried, but that's neither here nor there. Charlotte isn't going anywhere.
Indeed, at least at this point she'll get her money back. If she doesn't, she can keep what he's handed over.
You are absolutely correct!
But there were also English princesses who were known as Isabella, primarily Plantagenet princesses. Even as late as the 14th century there was Isabella, Countess of Bedford, which was used alongside / separately from Elizabeth. Much how French has two different translations for the names: Isabelle vs. Elisabeth. So the princess is indeed named Isabella, rather than Elizabeth, and perhaps plays a revival of the name in England.
For now...
It's less Alexander being callous and more the political pressure: his councilors are insisting that Winton is a traitor and that is why he was killed, and so Alexander needed to play his part... but with enough time, he absolutely took his revenge on the weakest links and did what he could to ensure Winton's widow wouldn't be impoverished.
Indeed... and the seeds for a future conflict are already being laid in Italy, with Milan and Parma to be given to two sons whose mother's absolutely hate each other. Not to mention Anne Boullan and her religious preferences migrating smack dab into the middle of Italy. I really doubt we see Charles and François get it together to tackle the Ottomans... it's probably more wishful thinking more than anything. Sorry for anyone hoping to see the Cross over Constantinople, not gonna happen here!
Lots of the OTL figures will be exiting soon.... François and Charles V and plenty of others. I'll have to get together a portrait gallery for sure!