So sorry for the delay, guys! This chapter was a doozy. Wanted to cover more than the span of a year or two, and well... it ended up taking me over a week to write. I'm very proud of this, especially the twist at the end. Hope everyone enjoys, and can't wait to hear everyone's thoughts.
Chapter 14. An Emperor’s Folly – The Italian War of 1521-1526
1521-1526 – France, Germany, Italy & Spain.
“My cousin François and I are in perfect accord – he wants Milan, and so do I.”
— Emperor Charles V
Music Accompaniment: Contre Raison (Gaillarde)
The Battle of Lodi: The Ultimate Battle of the Italian War of 1521.
Though Europe had enjoyed relative peace after the War of the League of Cambrai—it had not solved any of the issues that continued to fester. France still ruled over the Duchy of Milan, with King François eager to exert his influence further: very few could forget that French crown had also laid claim to the Kingdom of Naples in the reigns of Louis XII and Charles VIII, and that François might attempt the same. There was also the growing rivalry between France and Spain—in the persons of King François and Emperor Charles V. While the Imperial Election of 1519, which had resulted in the election of Charles V as emperor had contributed to tensions between France and Spain, there also remained the outstanding issue of Navarre—while Spain held Upper Navarre, south of the Pyrenees, the Kingdom of Navarre remained alive and well in Lower Navarre. While the Treaty of Noyon signed in 1516 between France and Spain had contained provisions to deal with the Navarrese issue, they had proved ineffectual—and the issue of Navarre remained a thorny wedge between the two issues.
With Charles’ coronation at Aachen in the fall of 1520, along with the provisions to raise an army for the emperor’s coronation in Rome, French fears were heightened. Did the emperor wish to be crowned as his grandfather had not? So be it; but let him come with a retinue—not an army at his back, which would no doubt threaten French interests in Milan—and perhaps provoke another uprising against French rule in Italy. François decided that he needed to make a preemptive blow—and with plausible deniability. François planned to strike at Charles from both the north and south—he employed Robert of La Marck, the Duke of Bouillion, to attack Luxembourg with
Black Band, a group of
Landsknechts who had long been in the service of France; in return, Robert of La Marck was be given a French pension. In the south, François provided liberal funding and troops to King Henri II of Navarre to reclaim the pieces of his kingdom that had been lost.
“The king was determined to give the emperor a bloody nose,” The Sieur de Malaspine wrote in his celebrated memoirs.
“And so, he prepared to push the emperor to war by using others to complete his dirty business.” While Henri II of Navarre was nominally at the head of the Franco-Navarrese army, it was effectively commanded by André de Foix. The French battle plans proved flawed; Henry of Nassau was able to effortlessly push back the French offensive aimed at Luxembourg. The Franco-Navarrese offensive proved more successful, with the French invasion into Upper Navarre provoking an uprising amongst the Navarrese who had long tired of Spanish domination. With the troops garrisoning Navarre being used in dealing with the revolt of the communities, the Franco-Navarrese army was able to easily seize Pamplona—the capital of Navarre fell after a short siege of three days, and within three weeks, the majority of Upper Navarre was once more under control of the Kingdom of Navarre. From Pamplona, André de Foix was able to make forays into Castile across the Ebro—raiding Logroño, where several vital pieces of artillery were seized. The invasion of the Franco-Navarrese forces served to help push the moderate
comuneros to seek reconciliation with the royalist party.
While François watched with glee as his troops helped add fuel to the fire in Spain, Charles was busy making his own moves. The specter of Luther had served to help unite the emperor and the pope in a common cause; Leo X, knowing he would need imperial support, was willing to abandon any pretension of friendship with France, and was prepared to assist in expelling the French from Milan—with the promise that Parma and Piacenza should be given to the Papacy. Charles’ diplomatic overtures with his aunt in England bore fruit as well; the
Treaty of Gravelines was signed in the fall of 1521, with England renewing its alliance with the emperor. Catherine once more agreed to provide her nephew with funds: this time, a loan of £55,000 with the proceeds to be raised through a benevolence or forced loan; the emperor in return agreed to repay the English loans with interest—and to make a gift of 250,000 ducats Queen Mary’s future dowry. Catherine also agreed to supply the emperor with a troop of 5000 men, which would be raised under the command of Thomas Howard, the Earl of Surrey—to serve the emperor where he pleased. Catherine also undertook that England prepare an army to invade France within the year. François in turn, was plotting his own diplomatic moves: he received reassurances from the Republic of Venice that were prepared to support the French position in Milan, while the Duke of Albany—enroute to return to Scotland after a sojourn of several years in both France and Italy, once more reaffirmed his support and alliance with the French—granting the regent a detachtment of men to take with him to Scotland, along with powder and shot. He also granted the Scottish regent a disbursement from the royal treasury of 40,000₶. Should England dare to meddle in this conflict between giants, François was fully prepared to fully unleash his Scottish dog upon them—whatever the cost.
Diplomatic options were exhausted in the fall of 1521—Charles demanded not only recompense for the raid on Luxembourg, but that French troops supporting the King of Navarre should be vacated from those occupied territories. François was intransigent—he stated through his envoys that he had no dealings with the renegade Duke of Bouillion and the raid on Luxembourg, nor could he control what the King of Navarre, a rash young man, wished to do with his own rag-tag group of Gascons. François suggested in turn that Upper Navarre should be returned to Navarrese sovereignty, as had been promised at Noyon. Catherine of Aragon in turn offered her services as a mediator—with the King of France snapping his fingers at such an offer.
“This Spanish bitch! The so-called regent of England believes herself impartial enough to judge in this situation,” François is said to have remarked.
“She is her father’s daughter—and cannot be trusted. A pitiful woman of no standard. I would rather entrust my fate to Lady Fortuna upon the battlefield, than to trust the Spanish harpy. She is the emperor’s lapdog; but she should beware, for France has its own cur in Scotland—try us, O Lady, and Scotland will scratch and bite harder than you could ever imagine! What help can you rend to your precious nephew then?” The die was soon cast—and Imperial troops under Henry of Nassau soon invaded northern France. They had little issue overrunning several border towns—but found resistance at Mézières, where the Lord of Bayard valiantly held the city—allowing King François time to raise fresh troops at Reims to counter Nassau’s invasion. Nassau unleashed a fury of artillery fire upon the city, reducing it to rubble; with French troops approaching, the weather turning colder, Nassau decided it more prudent to withdraw back towards the Low Countries for winter quarters.
“Leave no stone unturned, no crop unburnt,” Was Nassau’s order to his troops as they retreated north—leaving towns and villages in waste as he pulled north. The Franco-Navarrese force continued unimpeded within Navarre—the citadel of Amaiur capitulated in October of 1521, while Louis of Lorraine assisted in taking the town of Fuenterrabia. It was during this time that cracks began to appear in the relationship between the King of France and one of his closest (and most powerful) kinsmen, the Duke of Bourbon, also known as the Constable of Bourbon—when François named his brother-in-law, the Duke of Alençon as commander of the vanguard of the French army raised at Reims—a position that by right belonged to the Duke of Bourbon.
Cardinal Pompeo Colonna was elected Pope in 1522 as Pope Pius IV.
In Italy, the French governor of Milan, the Viscount of Lautrec, was ordered to defend his position as best he could against both imperial and papal forces; Charles V had not only ordered Spanish troops under Ferdinand d’Ávalos north from Naples but had sent forces from Germany to assist the Papal army under Prospero Colonna. Lautrec on his side had Swiss mercenaries, as well as troops from the Venetian Republic. Finding his position within Milan untenable, Lautrec soon abandoned the city to take up a more defensive position along the Adda River. With his superior artillery, Lautrec prepared for take up his winter quarters at
Bruzzano—protecting his position and holding the joint troops of the pope and the emperor from pressing further towards Genoa.
“I am in most dire need of funds,” Lautrec wrote to the king that winter.
“The Swiss are near mutinous; they are demanding either to be paid, or that we attack…” The issue would have to be dealt with, come spring—or serious consequences would likely ensue. The winter of 1521 also saw the death of Pope Leo X—the resulting conclave held at the end of 1521 into January 1522 saw wrangling between both the imperial and French factions—with both France and Spain dispersing huge bribes to their favored candidates. In the end, Cardinal Pompeo Colonna was elected Pope, taking the name of
Pius IV. Pope Pius IV favored a continued alliance with the emperor—but above all, to see the French fully ejected from Italy.
In the spring of 1522, fighting immediately resumed. Lautrec found himself forced to commit to a pitched fight at the
Battle of Burzzano, the Swiss troops charged against the Spanish and German lines, giving the French artillery no chance to work their magic; the Swiss troops were utterly shredded and would soon decamp to their cantons, forcing Lautrec to retreat towards France. Lombardy was soon excised of its French tumor, and in the summer, Genoa fell after a brief siege. The emperor, still facing heavy pressure from the French in Navarre, was ultimately forced to make peace with the moderate rebels in Castile, resulting in the Treaty of Segovia. With both sides united in crushing the more radical revolutionaries, it also freed up Spanish troops to prepare for an offensive. It was in the summer of 1522 that the emperor learned the fate of his son and heir.
“My darling,” A letter from the emperor to the empress begins, dated in late May of 1522.
“Since our lord, who gave Philip to us, wished to have him back, we must bend to His will and thank Him and beg Him to protect what is left. With great affection, my lady—I beg you to do this and to forget and leave behind all pain and grief.” The emperor had no answers for what happened—only that it had. While the emperor bore the news stoically, putting his faith in God, the empress was beside herself at the loss—she was said to have wept bitterly, remarking to her ladies that:
“Spain, dreadful Spain—it has killed my darling Philip; they can say he has sickened and that it is God’s will…but so long as I live, I shall never believe it. My own son, my first born—I did not know him during his short life, as I was forced to leave him behind… and now I never shall. I know the truth. My son was murdered by ambition; I shall curse Spain for the rest of my days; I swear revenge on those who have robbed me of my eldest son.” As the news of Prince Philip’s disappearance and death spread, some whispered of a
Tudor Curse—had not Henry VII came to the throne of England by slewing the usurper, Richard III—who had climbed onto the blood-soaked throne through his pitiful nephews? Some murmured that perhaps Henry VII—had played a larger role in the matter, and as such, his descendants would be doomed to tragedy. A farce—but an interesting farce whose story spread. Some feared for Empress Mary’s health following the revelation of Prince Philip—she received the news when she was pregnant and was so swept up in grief that her servants truly feared for her demise. She persevered: her daughter Mary, to be known within the family as
Marie was born without issue in 1522. In France, similar concerns pervaded the court regarding Queen Claude—pregnant for the eighth time, and in failing health. Claude died giving birth to a young prince—the queen asked that the young prince be named
Louis with her dying breath—in honor of her late father, Louis XII.
Queen Claude, c. 1520; She died at her post, giving birth to her eighth and final child, Prince Louis.
Negotiations between the royalists and moderate rebels allowed some semblance of authority to be restored to central Castile—and Iñigo Férnandez, the Constable of Castile, was able to cobble together an army of some 30,000 that would finally offer some concrete resistance against the French invasion in Navarre. With Spanish troops moving northward, André de Foix was forced to retreat beyond the Ebro—with the Spanish laying siege to the major fortifications at Fuenterrabia which would allow them to surround the French forces in Upper Navarre completely. André de Foix wrote pensively to the King of Navarre, stating:
“Our position has faltered compared to last year; our advantages are rapidly depleting. Your subjects lose faith by the hour; make an appearance, and all shall be well.” Henri II remained safe and sound in France at the Château de Pau; he refused to render André de Foix any financial aid, fearing the expedition was turning sour. Spanish troops continued to move slowly against the French positions in Spain throughout 1523, taking back Fuenterrabia as well as seizing both Estella and Olite—placing Pamplona under direct threat. With the armies of Charles V beginning to gain ground, England fulfilled its end of the bargain with the emperor—in May of 1523, England declared war of France. It immediately committed some 15,000 troops into the field, under the command of the Earl of Oxford. With the French stretched thin by Imperial attack, the Earl of Oxford was able to act with impunity as his army marched out of Calais and into Picardy—with the French unable to mount an effective resistance as Oxford plundered and razed the fields around Abbeville, before crossing the Somme River. Though the English offensive came within distance of Amiens and likely could’ve pushed towards Paris, the lack of artillery and supplies—as well as reinforcements from the emperor meant that Oxford was soon forced to withdraw back towards Calais—arriving there in December of 1523.
In Scotland, England’s push into the conflict against France and Albany’s desire to aid his French allies prompted a tumult. Albany’s control over the regency of Scotland had slackened during his sojourn to France and Italy, where he had mainly relied upon his lieutenants to excise authority in his name. While Albany returned to Scotland imbued with confidence that French money and arms provided, he did not realize that his languid regency had caused great strife amongst the kingdom—people were hungry, there was no justice—and they did not believe that the Duke of Albany cared for their king. Alexander IV, now nine—had spent most of his time since Albany’s absence under the strict care of Albany’s appointees, who reigned over the royal household like little lordlings, with the king closely confined at Sterling Castle, ostensibly for his own protection. This unrest against the malaise of the regency empowered the anti-Albanist party, which received ready support in great secrecy from England. The enemies of the regent also had a secret weapon: the queen dowager, Margaret: still at Doune Castle—where she had languished for six years, protesting her innocence. The regency had offered to free the queen on the condition that she recant her story regarding Albany’s proposal of marriage and admit that she was a liar. The queen, haughty as any Tudor retorted to her goalers:
“I cannot admit to a lie which is the truth. I shall always state it is the truth, until the day I die. I curse Albany—he shall never get from me those words which might heal his reputation. Nay, never. I shall never submit, and if I am kept here, then so be it. I shall only leave Doune by a coffin, never a horse, so long as Albany reigns.”
Soon after Margaret’s famous words, the anti-Albanist party led a raid on Doune Castle, freeing the queen from her confinement.
“Who dares come into a lady’s house as such, with your armor and sword drawn?” Margaret was reputed to have said as she met with her liberators—or perhaps new jailers in the great hall. At this, the men kneeled before her, starting with the man who had led the daring attack—James Hamilton, the Earl of Arran.
“We are your true friends, madam,” Hamilton is recorded as saying.
“We come not only to free you—but to restore you to your rightful position as mother of the king. The uncle has failed; you—with our help, must steady the ship of state.” Though Margaret was pleased to be freed, and would happily go forth, she made one request from her new allies: that she would not leave Doune as a liar. This the anti-Albanists were happy to aid her in this, for it served their purposes. Along with news of Margaret’s liberation, enemies of the Duke of Albany also publicized what they claimed to be a genuine marriage contract between the Duke of Albany and Queen Margaret—dated March of 1516, at the height of their affair. Albany’s supporters denounced the document as a sham and forgery; his enemies saw it as a genuine document. In due course, the Earl of Arran’s troops had little difficulty in taking control of Sterling and taking control of the young king’s person—with Alexander IV being returned to the custody of his mother, who he had not seen since 1516. Arran and Albany’s forces clashed at the
Battle of Whitecross in November of 1523—resulting in the scattering of Albany’s troops and his overthrow from the regency. By December, the Duke of Albany fled into exile in France, with the Earl of Arran restoring Queen Margaret to the regency—with Arran assuming the title of chancellor. Other allies of Arran, such as the Earls of Argyll, Eglinton, Lennox, and Montrose were favorably rewarded with choice positions upon the council and within the royal household. Queen Margaret—with her son, the young king, at her side, would return in triumph Edinburgh—with the royal court taking up residence at Linlithgow Palace.
Arms of the Earl of Arran: One of the Five Earls, and Queen Margaret's newest ally.
The ouster of Albany deprived France of a vital ally in Scotland; most knew of Queen Margaret’s English sympathies, though her political positions were constrained by her new allies, the so-called
Five Earls. They were not explicitly pro-French, nor were they pro-English—though they had accepted English aid, they had been unified primarily in their distaste of Albany and his disastrous governance—and had little desire to commit Scotland into a war which they could not hope to win. Even Margaret had softened somewhat towards France—her attitude towards England soured by the lack of support she had received from Catherine of Aragon and the English ambassador during her imprisonment. The new Scottish government made no move to repudiate the Treaty of Rouen, with Queen Margaret writing to King François that,
“The situation remains much unsettled at present—I fear that even with your generous support, our troops are in no fit state to confront England—nor do my ministers wish to place our army into the position of enduring another Flodden. I remain your steadfast friend and ally—the king is all chatters about the little princesses, Louise and Charlotte, and asks that your majesty please send him a portrait of them as soon as can be arranged.”
King François soon found his kingdom in a difficult situation as 1524 dawned. The English had marauded over northern France, causing immense suffering and a poor harvest. The French had been ejected from Lombardy and Italy, and their position in Navarre was under siege. The Venetians, also facing troubles from the emperor and the pope, agreed to abandon their alliance with France in the
Treaty of Worms. France now stood alone—and King François was faced with cobbling together the financial resources to raise a fresh army in Italy. Aside from levying a fresh
Taille and ordering that the rates of the hated
Gabelle, or salt tax, should be raised slightly to account for the extraordinary situation. Fresh taxes were also sought from the clergy, and François seized clerical revenues intended for the Pope in Rome owing to the state of war between them. François also leaned upon the princes of the blood to provide voluntary
donations to the treasury. François greedily looked to his kinsman, the Duke of Bourbon to provide a large donation—promising that Bourbon’s faith in the royal cause would soon be rewarded. While it would remain to be seen, François was soon able to put together an army of some 40,000 troops which he was prepared to take personal control of for yet another campaign in Italy.
The emperor, too, was prepared to shore up the imperial position in Italy—and sought for provisions and funds, as well as 12,000
Landsknechts that the emperor would personally command to join the imperial and papal troops already stationed in Italy. The French army marched across the alps in June of 1524—the joint imperial-papal troops under Charles de Lannoy and the ailing Prospero Colonna, still awaiting the emperor’s reinforcements, were in no position to offer effective resistance; Asti fell to the French without issue, and Genoa, having been captured by Spanish troops nearly two years before, once more opened it’s gates to the French, rather than suffer the effects of a protracted siege. Milan was in chaos at the approach of French troops—an outbreak of plague in the city of dampened the effectiveness of the city’s garrison, and Lannoy only possessed some 13,000 troops to stall the French advance. Unprepared to submit his troops to a protracted siege that might cause his troops to become infected, he decided to abandon the city—with Lannoy retreating towards Lodi, his troops exiting from one gate in Milan as French troops entered in another. François decided that he needed to press on to his advantage—and after installing Louis II de Trémoille as Governor of Milan, he ordered his troops to press towards Lodi, which he placed under siege—pinning the imperial forces into an impossible situation.
Charles V and his fresh German reinforcements arrived in Italy in November of 1524—having negotiated an agreement with the Republic of Venice to allow his reinforcements to traverse through Brescia and Cremona to reinforce Lodi. Charles de Lannoy’s troops were in a poor position, suffering from an outbreak of sickness. The Papal commanders were also wavering in loyalty—unbeknownst to the emperor, Pope Pius IV had sent secret envoys to the King of France in order that an
agreement might be reached between them. Though the emperor’s arrival helped heighten imperial morale, Charles de Lannoy wrote dejectedly within his journal:
“We are trapped here, in Lodi. Our only hope is to attempt a breakout or die by the French sword.”
Engraving of Charles de Lannoy, Viceroy of Naples & Imperial General.
Charles V took supreme command of the imperial troops within Lodi soon after his arrival. While some of his more cautious commanders recommended that they should stay in Lodi throughout the winter, with the campaign season soon coming towards an end, Charles V reasoned that their best bet to break out was now. To this, Charles de Lannoy agreed. To remain would only subject further troops to sickness and reduce their supplies and rations even further. If they could break through the French troops, they could seek safe shelter in Parma, and find relief until the season began anew. François, in turn subjected Lodi to daily barrages from the French artillery—as well as ordering his foragers to claim produce from the surrounding countryside. In what was considered an early coup of propaganda, François ordered that several brick bakeries be built in the French camp—hoping to torment the imperial forces the smell of fresh bread that the imperial troops would surely be deprived of.
In January of 1525, the imperial troops finally attempted a breakout—they succeeded in attacking French positions near the southern city gates. The
Battle of Lodi, as it became known, occurred near the river Adda. The imperial troops, though succeeding in their attack near the gates, soon realized that it had been a feint to lure them forward. The battle raged throughout the morning and afternoon—with French artillery blazing against the imperial lines, while Swiss troops swarmed forward in quick motion, armed with their pikes. As the battle raged forward without a clear answer, the French soon had a coup when the Count of St. Pol succeeding in striking at the emperor’s horse—unhorsing him. Before the imperial lines could surge forward to protect their sovereign, the Count of St. Pol alongside the Baron of Montmorency were able to surround the emperor—taking him captive.
The capture of the emperor caused the morale of the imperial army to collapse, and Charles de Lannoy with his remaining forces was forced to retreat towards Lodi. While he attempted to offer up the city in exchange for the emperor’s safe return, François refused—why should he bargain such an important prisoner for such a minor concession? Lodi would fall sooner rather than later—which it did. The emperor was kept in close confinement—with François refusing to meet with him. It was eventually decided that he should be transferred out of Italy and into safer confinement in France, which would make an escape or liberation more difficult. As the imperial troops under Lannoy offered up Lodi, the emperor was transferred to Genoa—and transported to Marseille, where he was held briefly before being transferred to the Château de l’Empéri in Salon. He was ultimately moved to the Château de Saumur. In a letter to his wife, the Empress Mary, the emperor lamented:
“All is lost, and even more lost in my present position. Our army in Italy has been defeated, and I am in the hands of the King of France. Despite my entreaties, he has thus far refused to meet with me… I fear of the terms he might offer, but that I fear even more, that I must accept. I pray that you keep me in your thoughts… I salute the bravery of your Grand Écuyer, Charles Brandon…he fought most valiantly at Lodi… more valiantly than most of my Germans. Give him my praise—and you may tell him that he shall be made a count when I am able to do so…”
Though the war was yet unfinished, the conclusion seemed clear: it only remained for François to name his terms to the vanquished emperor—now his prisoner, and for the emperor to accept them.