The Ottoman armies rather effortlessly stomp all over Hungary and start sieging bits of Austria.  Despite having become Protestant, I toss the Catholic Emperor a few hundred ducats a year in wartime funding, as I really do not want Ottomans on Vienna’s doorstep.

The war is six or seven years long and eventually, the HRE turns the tide and occupies virtually all of the Balkans and Greece.  And what does the emperor ask for in his peace deal?  Re-conquered Hungarian provinces?  Some kind of buffer between Austria and the Turks?

No.  He asks for this:

Hands up, everyone who thinks it’s a good idea to let ze Germans run Judea?

Yeah, me neither.

UPDATE: For the Flea, parts of Europe and Anatolia, circa 1597.

The Netherlands are busy gobbling up all their like-cultured neighbours in a bid to form Europe’s sea-level superpower.  They are presently beating the stuffing out of the Bishopric of Utrecht and will probably annex it sometime within the next five years.

They are usually my ally, but at the moment the security alliance is severed as I do not want to get dragged into a half-dozen Dutch wars of unification.  I have designs on Africa and India and can’t tie up too many troops on the Continent.

The Duchy of Austria, also Holy Roman Emperor since the start of the game—despite my best efforts to have the Protestant electors support somebody else.

Presently embroiled in a  massive conflict with their longtime Ottoman enemies.  I helped the Austrians out a little by taking some Ottoman Middle Eastern provinces, and smashing the hell out of the Ottoman navy in the Mediterranean.  At one time they were the second-largest navy in the world, with 79 galleys and 10 transports.  Now they have about five of each.  I lost a grand total of one frigate during that war’s naval engagements.

Well-defended Cyprus and British Israel.  This territory (along with the adjacent provinces of Qara Koyunlu) actually bisects the Ottoman Empire, so that the Turks have no land connection to their African provinces.

This may cause the African provinces to revolt away from Ottoman rule.  Or they may decide to fix the problem by invading and retaking parts of British Israel.  Only time will tell.

The game year, by the way, is 1498.  The real Ottoman Empire didn’t manage to eat the Mamelukes until 1512-1520.

The Ottomans have about five times the manpower I can currently muster, and the only allied resupply point en route is little Cyprus.  Like the Cypriots won’t get overrun in the first few days of the war.

I’m putting off that Haifa beach vacation for a couple of decades.  Possibly centuries.

• An earlier start date, on October 13, 1399 (the date of Henry IV’s coronation).
• A new mission system which gives players and the game AI strategic goals for their country to focus on.
• National and Province Decisions, which can affect stability, tax income, manpower, et cetera in either the province or across the nation.
• Rebellions with specific goals (i.e. lower taxes, government revolution, independence, etc).
• Countries with republican governments now have elections to determine the leader.
• The Curia controller can now excommunicate a ruler, or call a crusade on a specific country.
• New colonial system, colonies grow incrementally each year through colonisation funding, not just sending a batch of new colonists.
• Combat AI is much more effective, not so easily distracted by sieges anymore.  Can mount effective amphibious invasions too.
• The ability to take map screenshots in-game, natively, without some other 3rd party utility.

Here is a screenshot of the kingdom of England, circa 1471.  This map would ordinarily show your country in its preferred colour, and your vassals in a lighter colour.  As you can see I have no vassals (they were Irish minors and Scotland, before diplomatic annexation).  I can’t form Great Britain yet as it will take another 40 years to get cores on all of the Scottish provinces.

From about 1430 onward I have monopolised control of the Papal Curia and the title of Holy Roman Emperor, which gives a massive manpower boost to otherwise underperforming England.

The Hundred Years War went pretty well, I successfully wrested Aquitaine and Normandy from France, and Picardie from Burgundy.  Ireland and Scotland were peacefully annexed.  Scotland had somehow grabbed Iceland and Orkney from Norway, and expanded the nascent colonies there.

That patch of red around Judea and Samaria were territories grabbed from the Mamelukes and their revolters, Syria, during a Great Crusade against their allies the Golden Horde.  They were all duly converted to Catholicism in the years afterward.  I also captured Gibraltar from Grenada, which is a handy port for staging into the Med.

This is Europe circa 1471, which surprisingly bears a close resemblance to the actual, historical Europe of 1470.  Kind of shocking, really.

Sweden ate Norway and Denmark just a few years ago. Castile and Aragon have not yet merged to form Spain.  The Reconquista isn’t yet complete as Granada is still kicking around.  Poland inherited Lithuania and became a super-blob overnight.  Muscovy has slowly but surely devoured Novgorod and significant chunks of the Golden Horde.

That big purple blob around Greece is ahistorical, though.  That’s the Byzantine Empire, which I aided and abetted through several wars with the Ottomans.  They are now big enough to survive on their own, provided they don’t do something stupid like go to war with Hungary.  And what used to be Burgundy has been divided up between England, Brabant and France.  Navarra hangs on improbably as an English ally, although that will soon change.

Truth be told, I am getting a little tired of the Holy Roman Emperor crown, as it results in a lot of meddling in little brush-fire wars in central Europe.  The Emperor gets to automatically guarantee the independence of every HRE member, and I have no prolonged interest in policing the affairs of the very fractious empire.

The only exception to that is Brabant, who have almost completed their conquest of the Low Countries.  I am trying to ally with them and send subtle hints (by way of large expensive gifts) that I am prepared to look the other way should they decide to form the United Netherlands by gobbling up Friesland and Utrecht.  Normally I wouldn’t tolerate poaching of HRE territories, but a strong ally sharing a border with France is never a bad thing.

Speaking of France, I have nominally good relations with them right now, but I’m sure that will end as soon as some other schmoe gets elected Emperor and my manpower reserve drops into the toilet.  Then we’ll get to see just how good the newly-built forts in Normandy are.

Right now it looks like I may have to lay the Imperial Smackdown on Poland-Lithuania so that they will cough up a couple of German minors on the Baltic (like Pommerania) that have mysteriously disappeared.

THE HUNDRED YEARS WAR

Typically I play northern European countries, because it is fun to stick pins in France and the Holy Roman Empire.  When I play England, I like to try to win back Normandy and Caux in the game-opening Hundred Years War.  Vassalising Armagnac and Foix is also something of a priority.

Under the original MMG mod, this wasn’t too big a deal.  Yes, you start with only 11,000 Englishmen versus 30,000 Frenchmen, but you used to have a couple of highly skilled generals as well.  Invade Armagnac, get a couple of loans, hire a wad of mercenaries in Gascogne and southern England, and dispatch the bulk of them to northern France.  Most French armies start the game in the south, poised to invade English-held Gascony, and by the time they have taken Gascony and marched north to meet you, you’ve already occupied Paris and most of northern France.  They have no choice but to roll over and accept your demands.

Well, that doesn’t work anymore.  In-game, John Neville is no longer the medieval Stormin’ Norman.  Mercenaries can no longer be hired in mass quantities right at game start, so the puny 1000-man Gascony garrison gets obliterated.  The only thing that can save them is frantic diplomacy to get military access from Armagnac or Foix.  There they will sit out the remainder of the war, while 30,000 Frenchmen prowl around the surrounding territories, taunting them to come out and fight.

Magna Mundi Gold 2 also increases the average fort strength, so sieges take a lot longer.  You can no longer romp through northern France like Erwin Rommel on summer vacation.  Sieging Paris’s 5,000-strong fort takes literal years.  Ample time for the French armies clustered in the south to march north and kick your sorry ass off the Continent.  The best outcome you can hope for, if you fight tooth and nail, is to end up with a white peace and a likely rematch 5-10 years later.  The most usual outcome is for Gascony or Calais to end up part of the French patrimony while England gets overwhelmed by revolts in the Wars of the Roses.

Finally (and I’m not sure if this is part of MMG2), France’s manpower levels are just off the charts compared to England.  My armies reinforced much more slowly, at about 400 men per month, so it took ages to get back up to fighting strength after a particularly bloody outing.

I ended up fighting to a draw on the game-opening war, then warned France not to start any wars, and guaranteed the independence of a lot of itty bitty French minors.  The idea was to wait until one of the minors sucked France into a war with another European major (like Castile or Aragon), then seize the opportunity and grab Normandy and Caux back again.  Which I did, although it is worth noting that even the combined fighting forces of Castile, Aragon, England and Brittany were barely able to pull it off.  In the game, much as in history, France is THE Continental superpower.  In 1453, no other Western European nation comes close.

WARS OF THE ROSES

The Wars of the Roses have also been upgraded, gone are the small, easily-dispatched peasant revolts.  Now you face rebel armies that are numerically superior by far, and since most of your starting armies and manpower will be completely depleted by the fighting in France, you have no choice but to bring troops home quickly to impose law and order.  Chances are the rebels are going to take a couple of provinces.  If you don’t get them back in a timely fashion, they may even declare independence from England itself.  So keep the home county rebellions suppressed.

Imposing that law and order is no picnic either.  Your stability drops to -2 (or horror of horrors, -3) and you will spend the next ten years fighting off massive rebel armies (if you’re lucky), or foreign invasions from supporters of York or Lancaster (if you’re unlucky).

I lucked out a little by getting a 6-starred artist as court advisor (which grants considerably bonuses to national stability).  I further lucked out by gaining Scotland as an ally, which allowed me to grant them military access (and therefore give them the problem of quelling revolts in Northumberland and Cumbria).

Often in EU3 AARs, I see guys playing England give up their French turf and rush to invade Scotland.  I don’t understand that at all.  Scotland starts the game allied with France, but not at war with you.  Why drag your home territories into a two-front war for no good reason?  Your best window of opportunity for dealing with Scotland (diplomatically or military) is centuries.  Your best window of opportunity for taking territory from continental France is at game’s start.  After that, France starts to absorb her smaller neighbours and vassals, and only gets more powerful.  The longer you wait, the more difficult and impossible it becomes.  So make nice with the Scots, send lots of gifts; get them as allies and
they will defend your northern territories from rebellious subjects
while you’re putting the boots to their putative allies, the French.

Personally, I like to let Scotland hang in there for a good long while, they are one of the best allies you can have and never fail to contribute troops to my harebrained invasion schemes.  I get a big laugh out of watching them go to war with Norway (over the Orkneys), and asbolutely shellack the hell out of the Norwegians without me having to come bail them out.

In one game Scotland and Portugal (both allies of mine) ended up at war with each other because of their vassals.  It was ridiculous.  Portugal is no slouch in the fighting department either, but Scotland absolutely walked all over them.  Destroyed the Portuguese fleet with a much smaller Scottish fleet, and had half the country occupied in the first couple months.  Portugal eventually coughed up money to end the war, but I thought I was about to see the Scots start colonising Iberia.  Too many times in EU3, you get allies who start a fight with a
huge adversary and then expect you to come save them from destruction.
In Eu3, Scotland starts and ends its own fights, and that’s okay by me.  They will eventually get absorbed into Great Britain, but I’m never in a rush to do it.  Ireland is far more prone to the small-vassal-starting-huge-war syndrome, so I like to get them squared away first.

THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE

The gent who coded this part of the mod really outdid himself.  He created a system to gauge the Emperor’s relative power and influence.  The more powerful the Emperor, the less likely it is that the various districts of the Empire will want to set up their own administrative units (or circuits).  Conversely, the weaker the Emperor gets, the more the Empire’s component states will seize opportunities to expand their own influence.

And as Emperor, you have a duty to protect the rights of the Empire’s component states.  So if someone within (or without) invades an Imperial state, you will be called upon to formulate a response.  That response can run the gamut from tacit acceptance to diplomatic/economic sanctions, from supporting dissidents and arming rebels to outright war.  And if it comes to war, the various member states will actually contribute troops, manpower and money to the war effort.  These are serious improvements to the standard game’s HRE mechanics, which are lacklustre at best.

I’m looking forward to seeing what the Reformation looks like in this new version, because prior iterations were quite tepid.  Realistically there should be a whole lot of intrafaith whoopass going on until around 1648.

Many EU3 players like to limit themselves to minor (i.e. one-province) nations, growing the minor into a major and eventually dominating world affairs.  There’s certainly enormous challenges involved in doing this, although I prefer to play the majors (Great Britain, France, Portugal, etc).  Playing a major nation is a little more forgiving, in that you can make a few mistakes and suffer a major calamity without totally hosing your economy / military / relations for all time.

The downside to the majors is that it’s easy to steamroll the world, if that’s your style of play.  I try to limit myself to what I would consider to be reasonable constraints.  For instance, as France you might have the capability to expand westward into Iberia, but why would you?  Different cultures, increased stability, lesser tax and production income, no historic French crusades or missions into that region.  Just because you can doesn’t always mean that you should.  Ergo for this round as England, I am going to revive my previous objectives and modify them a little.

OBJECTIVES:

• Annex Scotland (by 1707) and Ireland (by 1801) to form Great Britain.
• Kick Norway out of the Orkneys and annex them.
• Mediæval crusade to free Judea and Lebanon.  Objective forfeit if not complete by 1500.
• As Curia controller, guarantee the independence of the Papal States and the failed crusader
  state of the Knights Hospitallers of Rhodes (until the Reformation, if there is one).  If I’m not pulling the Curia’s strings then the Bishop of Rome can clean up his own messes.
• Guarantee the independence of the Duchy of Athens (someone has to buy the Elgin Marbles!).  Sorry, fellas.  You dragged me into too many wars last time.
• Seek the independence and unification of the Netherlands.
• Drive the Ottoman Empire out of Rumelia and liberate Constantinople.  No Siege of Vienna on my watch, thank you very much.
• Retain control of the thirteen American colonies (apologies to Messrs. Jefferson, Washington et al).
• Control much of the territory of the historic British Empire, appropriate to its holdings in 1793 1820, by the end date.  The Napoleon’s Ambition add-on extends the end date.

LIMITATIONS:

• No province in the British Isles—except the Orkneys—may be gained by military
  annexation, only by vassalship and diplomatic annexation (hopefully the
  Scots and Irish won’t be as resentful, then.  Don’t see any way around force-annexation of the Orkneys as I really don’t want to inherit the whole of Norway just to get one province).
• Never surrender Calais, and strive to retain all Continental French holdings.
• No native/pagan states (Incas, Mayas, Aztecs, North American First
  Nations) are to be annexed in a war of aggression, but will permit annexation as the result of an unprovoked native-initiated war.
• Do not colonise any province where the primary economic output is slaves.
• The Royal Navy must outclass its nearest rivals in fleet size by half.  By 1820 it should be as large as the next two navies combined.  This is Britannia, after all.

So that’s the general strategy at the start.  As the game progresses, some of these will likely change.  Feel free to post suggestions on objectives / limits yourself.

I screwed up my Europa Universalis III game.

I saw that that the Napoleon’s Ambition expansion was available, so I installed it and the NA-compatible Magna Mundi Gold user mod.  The good news is that Napoleon’s Ambition runs well—faster than regular old EU3, actually.  The bad news is that my old savegames don’t appear to be compatible with either EU3:NA, Magna Mundi Gold, or both.

Kind of a shame, really, since this is the most success I have had in a game of EU3 to date.  As of A.D. 1500, England had managed to secure her French holdings, take a huge chunk of Greece from the Ottomans, hand that chunk over to the Duchy of Athens (which promptly lost a lot of it to Venice), peacefully vassalise Scotland, enter a personal union with Brittany, capture Judea and Lebanon, inherited most of Burgundy (France got the rest), and freed the Netherlands.

The Burgundy thing turned out to be a giant mess because of how the game handles diplomatic repercussions of your conquests.  You get “badboy” points for taking provinces (whether via war, diplomacy or inheritance).  The less-peaceful the method of annexation, the more badboy points you earn.  They fade, after time, but at certain levels the AI governments and diplomats really don’t like you very much. Inheriting Burgundy all in one shot tanked my diplomatic reputation.  I had to create a bunch of vassals (like the Netherlands) out of the inherited territory, or I would have found myself at war with most of Western Europe.  Some guys like to play world conquest and relish the whole “badboy wars” situation.  That’s not my style.  I like to set a couple of objectives up front and see how close I can get.  Speaking of which, let’s review them.

OBJECTIVES

• Annex Scotland and Ireland to form Great Britain.  FAIL: But just barely.  Annexed 3/5ths of Ireland peacefully, royal marriages with the two holdouts.  Vassalised Scotland, about 20 years away from diplomatic annexation. Governed it as personal union, briefly.
• Take and hold Jerusalem and Lebanon.  SUCCESS: The armies of Henry VII liberated Judea and Lebanon from the Mamluk Sultanate in A.D. 1503.
• Guarantee the independence of the Papal States and the failed crusader state of the Knights of Rhodes (until the Reformation, if there is one).  FAIL: The Knights of Rhodes got invaded and annexed by Genoa in the midst of one of my Anglo-Turk wars.  I didn’t lift a finger to save them because I had no surplus men or matériel.   They were eventually freed again by another Muslim state, irony of ironies.  The Papal States got annexed by Sicily around 1504 and I was reluctantly preparing an invasion to liberate them.
• Guarantee the independence of the Duchy of Athens (someone has to buy the Elgin Marbles!).  SUCCESS: Athens survived to 1504 (my last save date) and I eventually gave it the entire chunk of Greece I took from the Turks.  It then got into a war with Genoa and had to cough up Salonica, but the rest of it was intact.
• Seek the independence and unification of the Netherlands.  SUCCESS: After inheriting the  Burgundian Low Countries in 1504, I released the Netherlands as an independent state.  Eventually I would have had to referee a fight between Utretch and Netherlands (both allies), since they had cores (i.e. territorial claims) on each other’s territories.
• Control much of the territory of the historic British Empire, appropriate to its holdings in 1793, by the end date.  FAIL: Didn’t make it to 1793.  But I did control a lot more territory than the England of 1504, and without that nasty War of the Roses, to boot.

LESSONS LEARNED

Military Alliances:
Though protecting piddly little Crusader states (Athens, Crete, Knights Hospitallers) in the Mediterranean appeals to one’s sense of noblesse oblige, don’t do it.  Little states in EU3 behave like small nervous dogs with self-image problems.  They want to fight all the time, and see a larger ally’s army and manpower pool as their God-given arsenal of victory.  Try to pick allies that are around the same size, they’ll be less likely to try and use you as cannon fodder.

Curia Controller: Trying to direct the policy of the pre-Reformation Roman Catholic Church can be fun.  You can steer it towards responsibility and reform, or heedless self-interest and corruption.  Being Curia controller also comes with badboy-reducing reputation modifiers, which is why I tried to maintain an iron grip on it.  But it’s also a pain, because when somebody comes to kick the Pope’s ass, you are supposed to protect him (and suffer penalties if you don’t).  In the future I will probably be a lot more laissez-faire regarding the Curia.  The reputation modifiers are nice, but not really worth the hassle of having to keep the Papists out of trouble.  See that whole point about military alliances, above.

Besides, if England doesn’t turn Protestant, who’s going to write the hymn Jerusalem a few centuries down the road?  An England without Jerusalem isn’t a world I want to live in.

Holy Roman Empire: Being the Emperor is a good thing, it gives you lots of manpower and civic bonuses that come in handy.  But eventually the Elector states will get tired of an Emperor with a lengthy reign, so if you’ve been in the big chair for a decade or more,
they’ll almost definitely select another country once your monarch dies.  You get income from the members, and can sanction or denounce the conquest of HRE members by other members, preventing a lot of the larger German states from getting too huge too quickly.  The Emperor’s title is worth going after just for the bonuses and benefits.

General Statecraft: After kicking French ass in the Hundred Years War, I did my best to repair relations with them so as not to be in constant cross-Channel warfare.  The downside of having those ancestral Anglo-Norman continental possessions is that you have to
maintain garrisons in most of them, or France will see your weakness and try to take them from you.

A lot of people try to ally with Burgundy to balance out the French problem.  That was my strategy in the early going, until I got Normandy.  Then I realised I needed to take Picardie order to connect Calais to the rest of Anglo-Normandy, and let good relations with
Burgundy lapse.  Probably would not seek another royal marriage with them as the potential for the inheritance thing is a pain.  Inheriting the territory is great, but the territory comes with land claims by France.  Getting into wars with France over turf you don’t even want is generally a bad thing.

That’s the downside of royal marriages:  they can land you in succession wars or have you inherit lands you never wanted.  In the case of my succession war with Scotland, that was okay.  Scotland sided with me and we were fighting France together.  If Scotland had sided with France against me, then I would have been hosed.  All of my armies were off in Greece fighting the Umpteeth Anglo-Turk War and I could not have repelled a Scottish invasion.  I’d hazard royal marriages with nearby nations (i.e. the Scots and the Irish counties), but try to avoid royal marriages with places where you wouldn’t be able to fight and win a succession war.  Royal marriages do have an upside—they increase positive relations between the member countries—which is why most people accept them.

I’ll give it another shot with the new expansion and mods, but I’m warning you now that the whole re-taking of English France thing was a bit of a virtuoso performance whose opportunity only presents itself once in a blue moon.  Nine times out of ten you have to cry like a little girl and give up Gascogne and/or Calais in order to make the game-starting Hundred Years War nightmare go away.

1453-1456 Imperial Adventures
1453-1465 Imperatrix Romanorum Electus
1465-1479 Non Semper Erit Aestas
1479-1489 Graecia Capta Ferum Victorem Cepit

ENGLAND AT A GLANCE

Queen Mary has done a matchless job navigating her realm to the height of international prestige.  England is well-regarded in most European courts, due in no small part to Mary’s considerable influence with the Roman Curia and Imperial courts of the Holy Roman Empire.  England is also blessed with a reasonably stable economy, and the victorious wars in France, Greece and Turkey have helped spread her fame around the known world.  The English court is guided by knowledgeable peers, and the Queen’s subjects are protected by the Magna Carta Libertatum, in force since 1215 A.D. and reissued several times since.

EUROPE IN 1479

Political Geography: The summer of 1479 finds England a major power in western Europe.  Queen Mary I rules the southern halves of Albion and Hibernia, as well as the ancient Plantagenet holdings of Normandy and Gascony.  Normandy is disputed territory since France maintains a feeble and unenforced claim on it, but the truth is that the French have not challenged England militarily for 22 years.  And Mary has always been careful to leave at least one French territory with a considerable garrison—even at the very height of the Ottoman wars.

Holy Roman Empire:
The Queen has also reigned as Empress-Elect of the Holy Roman Empire for 18 years.  This additional role garners some manpower and research benefits from the Empire’s various member states.  The Empire is a fractious beast whose Electors and many members frequently war with one another.  Mary has threatened military and economic intervention several times to secure the liberty of small Imperial states (and Free Cities) subsumed by larger, more aggressive neighbours.  England itself is neither a member nor Elector, although its ruler is the Empress.

Religion: Western Europe is entirely Catholic and all of its countries formally acknowledge the Pope as the head of the church.  Although rulers usually accede to the Pontiff’s wishes in matters spiritual, many seldom do in matters temporal.  Queen Mary in particular has focused her energies on reforming the Catholic church, trying to remedy some of its most damaging excesses.  The humanist values of ancient Greece and Rome have filtered into many English territories, particularly on the Continent.

Silent enim leges inter arma
– Marcus Tullius Cicero, Pro Milone, 52 B.C.

It is the autumn of 1479.  Two years ago, a five-year truce was signed between Queen-Empress Mary and new Ottoman Sultan Suleyman I.  Although England has recalled all of her troops from the hostilities in Greece and Anatolia, virtually none of the returned armies have been reinforced and trained up to full strength.

One ally, however, is less concerned with England’s plight.  Athens has hosted thousands of English, Irish and Portuguese troops, and knows that thousands more have always remained at home.  On October 17th, 1479, Athens declares war on the Ottoman Turks.  The English court is in a bind; break the two-year-old truce, or leave their ally Athens to the janissaries?

Mary is mindful of the fact that there are now veterans of two prior Ottoman wars at home.  Any refusal of aid on England’s part may be seen as an insult to the sacrifices endured in those earlier conflicts.  On the other hand, England cannot afford to expend her blood and treasure in Greece indefinitely.  This will be England’s last war to secure Greek independence.  Mary makes a fateful decision to put the Home Army and all of the French garrisons into the fight.

The Third English-Ottoman War

The Royal Navy’s Gascony Squadron is the first to arrive, and elects to take the fight directly to the enemy in the Bosporus and Black Sea.  In January of 1480, twelve carracks and two cogs go into action against sixteen Ottoman galleys.  Despite superior numbers, the Turk galleys are soundly defeated.  Three carracks are lost, but nine galleys are sunk and one (Piri Reis) is captured.

The following month, the remaining galleys are hunted down and sunk by the Gascony Squadron.

Four months later, the Lawrence Howard’s Home Army is back in Athens, ejecting a weak Ottoman invasion force.  The good news is that the many years of constant fighting have taken their toll on the Turkish armies as well.  Throughout the remainder of the year, the Ottomans suffer a series of humiliating defeats.  By April of 1481, English forces occupy Macedonia and Edirne, with Salonica and Constantinople under siege.  The Royal Navy is blockading enemy ports, crippling Ottoman revenues.

Unfortunately, events in Scotland soon put the focus back on western Europe.

War of the Scottish Succession

The Lancasters of England and the Valois of France are heavily intermarried with the Stewarts of Scotland.  The English to ensure better relations on the northern border, and the French to have an ally within easy striking distance of England.   During a particularly vicious outbreak of the Black Death in Lothian, the Queen of Scots and her young heir die suddenly, throwing Scotland into political turmoil.

The Three Estates of Scotland rapidly assemble a regency council to determine the matter of succession.  The French ambassador invokes a claim on behalf of his king, Henri III; it is only natural that such a good friend and ally in Paris should rule Caledonia.  The regents, however, look longingly at England’s treasury and economy, as well as its light, decentralised yoke on Ireland and France.  London may ask its peers to wage war in Greece, but it’s one of the few mediæval governments to take seriously the guarantee of certain rights and responsibilities to its subjects.  Therefore the Scots regency council, with the endorsement of the Estates of Scotland, offers the crown to Queen-Empress Mary I of England.

King Henri, however, is incensed at the Scots’ rejection of his claim, and refuses to be pacified.  On July 23rd, 1481, France declares war on England and Scotland, rupturing the Auld Alliance.  Portugal joins the war on the English side, while France calls upon tiny Lübeck.

The succession war could not come at a worse time for England.  All of her French garrisons (except Calais) are fighting in Greece.  The remainder are weary and understrength after years of constant warfare in the Mediterranean.  Neither the Army nor the Navy have ever been asked to fight two major wars at once, and every last one of the Royal Navy’s transports are at least three months away in Athens.

The Exchequer hurriedly authorises several loans to hire mercenaries in Normandy, but these forces are easily pushed aside by large formations of French cavalry and men-at-arms.  For the first time since 1456, significant portions of English France lie under enemy occupation—with no relief due for many months.

Incredibly, despite the military setbacks, the Prince-Bishopric of Utrecht seeks a military alliance with the Kingdom of England.  This isn’t an attempt to aid Mary’s succession rights, rather a measure of security against Burgundy.  The Calais garrison is still a potent force—but without right of passage through Burgundian Picardie, it cannot join the fight.

The one spot of good news is that the Third Ottoman War is going better than anyone could have expected.  The Royal Navy still controls the Aegean and Marmaran seas, the Turks have been thoroughly routed from Greece and western Asia Minor, and revenue from Constantinople’s Grand Bazaar is once again flowing into English coffers.  Mary’s Privy Council sees the smallest glimmer of hope in the darkness.  Perhaps England can rush two or three armies back from Greece without surrendering all momentum to the Turks.

Twilight of the Golden Age

Deficit omne quod nascitur
— Marcus Fabius Quintilianus, De Institutione Oratoria, 95 A.D.

Two armies return from Greece in early 1482, allowing the hard-pressed mercenary regiments to retire and seek rest.  English France is by no means secured, but now that troops (and transports) have returned, the odds are better.  The return of the cogs also permits the Armies of Scotland and Ireland to be transported to Normandy.  Despite the reinforcements, however, these English armies suffer a series of battlefield defeats and are forced out of Anglo-Norman France.

And England’s calamities continue to mount.  On a brisk summer dawn in 1482, forty-year-old Queen Mary is thrown from her horse and gravely wounded during a routine morning ride.  Rushed back to the palace, the Queen-Empress is surrounded at bedside by her anxious Privy Councillors; the Kingdom’s plan of succession is not yet known.  The expiring Mary bravely struggles to speak.

“Christi crux est mea lux” (The cross of Christ is my light) she utters, then her spirit departs.

As the capital holds a lavish funeral for its departed monarch, Parliament selects an Accession Council to sort through the succession issues.  Mary has no offspring, so the crown must go to the nearest living relative—the eleven-year-old Earl of Richmond, Henry Tudor.  Since Henry is in his minority, a regency council will rule England (and Scotland) in his stead.

Mary’s untimely death has other unpleasant consequences for the realm; it is not permissible for the powers of the Holy Roman Emperor to be vested in a regency council.  The prince-electors, therefore, choose Margrave Albrecht IV of Brandenburg as the next King of the Romans and Emperor-elect.  Effective immediately, England will no longer receive reinforcements, research or civil stability benefits from the member-states of the Empire.

In the space of a year, England’s circumstances have shifted from premium to precarious.  The regency will have to be careful indeed, for the slightest misstep could result in disaster.

A Fatal Mistake

Fortunately for England, the King of France’s rude, imperious streak gets him into a heap of trouble with his Iberian neighbours.  A particularly intolerable insult from Henri III results in a completely unnecessary war with Castile, Aragon and Avignon. Castilian and Aragonese men-at-arms cross the Pyrenees and swarm over southern France, while Avignon attacks from within.

England and her allies use this fortuitous distraction to good effect, allowing the fresh Castilian-Aragonese troops to push the enemy’s front lines away from English turf, and sieging French forts left behind.  By November of 1482, English armies have captured several French provinces, and Scotland has captured Finistère.  The enemy has been evicted from almost all the Anglo-Norman territories; a turnabout in English fortunes that is nothing short of miraculous.

Shrewdly, the English regency decides to force concessions from France before any of the other combatants can do so.  On April 25th, 1483,  the French king agrees to Anglo-Scottish terms and signs the Treaty of Périgueux.  Henri relinquishes his claim to the throne of Scotland, and consents to the personal union of English and Scottish crowns, ruled (temporarily) by England’s regency council.  Furthermore, France abandons her claim on Normandy and Caux, professing England the rightful owner.

Two days later, representatives from the regencies of England and Scotland sign a formal military alliance, binding the two nations together in collective defence.  For the first time since 1453, the Anglo-Scots border is secure.  The mercenary regiments in France are of no further use and quickly disbanded.

Conclave Reform

One of the late Queen’s initiatives had been the elimination of corruption within the Catholic church; Mary was always careful to ensure that her views were well-represented in the Roman Curia by influential cardinals.  Some Privy Councillors (especially Nicolas de Chastellux, Archbishop of Canterbury) are anxious to continue the reform agenda as well.

In November of 1483, de Chastellux recommends a series of regulatory changes to the Papal Conclave—the method by which new Popes are elected.  His robust support (combined with that of several London-backed cardinals) convinces Urban VII to accept the anti-corruption measures.

Great Officers of State and Senior Leaders

The key members of Henry VI’s Privy Council had, for the most part, remained intact throughout his daughter’s reign.  With the passage of time, it was only natural that the council should experience some upheaval as well.

In January of 1484, Arthur Clarence, Lord High Constable of England, passes away peacefully.   François de Lugny, Lord High Treasurer, becomes a pivotal figure in the Regency Privy Council; his adroit manipulation of budget and revenue bolsters the Exchequer’s coffers.

In the spring of 1484, Archibald Norfolk replaces Nicolas de Chastellux as Archbishop of Canterbury.  Like his predecessor, Norfolk is a gifted clerical administrator and very supportive of church reform.

Robert Somerset continues as Lord Great Chamberlain, the only officer of state remaining from Henry VI’s council.

The Collapse of Anatolia

At the outbreak of the Scottish succession war, England rushed three French garrisons back home, leaving Lawrence Howard’s Home Army (and the navy’s Western Squadron) to soldier on in Asia Minor.

That potentially risky move has paid off, as Howard’s knights and men-at-arms have captured all but the furthest reaches of the Ottoman Empire.

Once again, the Turkish Sultan is stranded in his isolated Balkan territories, unable to secure right of passage from hostile Hungary or Bulgaria.

This is a terrific opportunity for England.  Howard is instructed to secure the remainder of Anatolia, then marshal his forces in Rumelia and await reinforcements from France.  England will deliver the coup de grâce in the outlying Balkan territories.

The Sack of Rome

In late 1484, the Papal States had managed to get themselves into a war with just about every minor state on the Italian peninsula—and the much larger, more dangerous Kingdom of Aragon.  A year later, Rome is under Aragonese occupation with the Pope under house arrest.  England’s regency council briefly considers intervention, but a look at army manpower and reserves quickly dispels that notion.  London needs to concentrate its energies on a successful conclusion to the Third Ottoman War.

On December 26th, 1485, Aragon annexes the Papal States, to an enormous outcry from surrounding Catholic nations.  Archibald Norfolk’s operatives in the Roman Curia petition the English court with requests for aid.

The Lords Spiritual and Temporal meet to consider a course of action.  Another war is simply not possible given the current state of the English army.  Every single regiment is understrength, and the best-equipped of a bad lot are already en route to Greece.

London lodges a formal protest with Saragossa, but is otherwise unmotivated.  Not even the Aragonese can be fooled into believing that the English will fight another war with their exhausted and enfeebled army.

After two months, Aragon relents and restores the Pope to his temporal possessions.

Brittany Reduced

Henri renews his quest for more Atlantic ports by invading the relatively defenceless Duchy of Brittany.  Duke Gilles is allied with Tyrone and Navarra, but neither of them have large enough armies to pose any threat to the French juggernaut.  As the Bretons move south to attack Saintonge, French armies invest Armor and Vendée.  The Bretons are quickly defeated.

On March 30th, 1486, Brittany is dismembered in the peace agreement.  France annexes the Breton territories of Armor and Morbihan, and Brittany abandons her claim to Finistère.

John Alcock, Bishop of Ely

John Alcock, the son of a Yorkshire burgess, is translated to the Bishopric of Ely in late April.  At the same time, Alcock is also appointed the Lord Chancellor of England, the second highest ranking Great Officer of State.  This rapid ascension from relatively humble beginnings triggers many “local boy makes good” celebrations throughout Yorkshire.

The bishop is a man of great learning and a talented architect as well.  Alcock founds several charities and restores a number of churches and colleges.  But his penultimate achievement is the founding of the College of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Saint John the Evangelist and the glorious Virgin Saint Radegund—informally known as Jesus College—at Cambridge.

Coup de Grâce

A month later, two of the Anglo-French regiments  have returned to the Balkans and crossed through Bulgaria.  The Ottoman Sultan and his army are holed up in Oltenia, with the rest of the Empire under foreign occupation.  Lawrence Howard gambles that he can destroy the last extant Turkish force and end the war by Christmas.  English knights have, after all, killed two Ottoman sultans in prior wars.  Howard marches the Home Army into enemy territory, hunting the Sultan.

But it’s not quite so easy this time.  Suleyman enjoys numerical superiority, and the English are forced to retreat and regroup several times.  Eventually, Howard is compelled to summon a recently returned French garrison up from Greece.  Turk janissaries and sipahis may be short on supplies and food, but they have a laudable surplus of courage and skill.  The Ottoman army succeeds in staving off the inevitable until October, when Sultan Suleyman I, like his predecessors, is flanked and cut down by a detachment of knights.

Turkish resolve falters, and by the spring of 1487, the entire Empire is occupied.  Now it’s up to the English Regency to decide the fate of Rumelia and Anatolia.

Vivat Rex

The joint Anglo-Scots regency council has done a decent enough job of managing two countries and fighting two wars.  Although it was originally their intention to unite the crowns in a personal union, those plans have since changed; the Scottish lairds are not yet prepared to accept a merger with England.  The two nations will continue to have separate dynastic families, but remain in a close alliance.

Henry Tudor, the young English heir apparent, has attended Privy Council meetings from his 14th birthday, and has been an enthusiastic student of the arts of statecraft.  Henry’s Scottish counterpart, Arthur Stewart, Duke of Rothesay, is a couple years younger and not as gifted a statesman.  But because the two boys have studied, trained and sat on the joint council together for the past five years, they are good friends—akin to brothers.   May 7th, 1487 is Henry’s 16th birthday, and the regency selects it as the day of the joint coronations—Henry’s in London and Arthur’s in Edinburgh.

England welcomes her new sovereign, Henry VII, with pealing church bells, thronging crowds, a cannon salute and great expectations.  His first challenge will be the administration of occupied Turkey.  Nobles and peasants alike are tired of the constant warfare in Greece; whatever concessions England demands must be sufficient to guarantee peace for at least a decade.

Because of the friendly relations between both monarchs, England and Scotland agree in principle to substantially reduce their border garrisons.  There is no reason that such good friends should have enormous armies facing each other along the common border.

A series of negotiations follow, ironing out guarantees for English and Scottish security and trade.  In August, the young King of Scots agrees to become Henry’s vassal; in exchange, England’s Royal Navy will provide maritime and coastal defence for both countries.

The Protectorate of Greece

Henry has studied the previous Anglo-Turkish wars, and is well aware of the Muslim and Orthodox states’ proclivity of going to war with one another on a depressingly regular basis.  Henry’s aim, therefore, is to separate the Rumelian territories from Turkey and hand them over to a suitable Greek monarch—preferably an ally.  The strengthened Greeks will, theoretically, be able to stand on their own two feet and no longer depend on England’s intervention—especially since England has had enough of interventions.

On June 18th, 1487, the Ottoman Empire cedes Janina, Salonica, Macedonia and Edirne to England; these territories become the Protectorate of Greece.  The Protectorate is superintended by Governor-General Lawrence Howard and two small garrisons, the 1st and 2nd Crusader Armies.  Henry’s instructions to Howard are to parley with the neighbouring Greek monarchs and negotiate himself out of a job, if at all possible.  England will manage these colonies for the time being, but Henry does not intend to keep them.  The Anglo-Turk wars have already cost England an incalculable amount of manpower and money.

Governor-General Howard gets to work right away, sending delegations to Athens, Morea and Crete.  But none of these minor Greek states seem particularly anxious to expand their borders.  Within the Protectorate there is war damage to repair, civil populations to feed and civic improvements to construct—most of which is beyond the financial resources of all the Greek minors put together.

Howard makes a last-gasp attempt to give Janina to the Duchy of Athens, but the Duke is having none of it.  Athens does not have the capability to defend new territory—even a mediocre band of rebels could wrest the province from him, if it came to that.

Right now, the Protectorate is more useful as an English-subsidised firewall than it is as national provinces of any Greek state.  The governor-general soon realises that he can’t even give the territories away in their present condition.  With great reluctance, Howard sends his capital budget requirements to the Exchequer.  London is not going to like paying for civic works in provisional territories, but then it likes civil unrest even less.

Curia Contrivances

In autumn, Henry receives a clandestine appeal for assistance from a vassal, King Filipe of Portugal.

Earlier in the year, Filipe had married (by proxy) a French princess. Michelle de Valois is beautiful but cheerless, never missing an opportunity to unfavourably compare the court of Lisbon to that of Paris.  After several months, it is clear that the King and Queen Consort of Portugal can’t stand each other, having spent all of their time apart ever since the first week of her arrival.  Filipe plans to petition Pope Julius III for an annulment, and wants its success guaranteed via England’s influence with the cardinals.

For his part, Henry is happy to put in a good word on Filipe’s behalf.  Portugal has been a valuable ally for a few decades, and it’s only right for a liege lord to seek the good of his vassals.  If one of the perquisites is sticking a pin in France at the same time, so much the better.

Henry VII also intervenes subtly in another pan-European matter: exploration.  Portugal and Castile have been funding far-reaching expeditions into Africa and the Atlantic Ocean.  A Genoan explorer in Castile’s employ—known as Cristóbal Colón—has already located land on the far side of the Atlantic.

The papal bull Aeterni regis initially confirmed the division of newly-discovered territories into areas of Castilian and Portuguese influence, but England wants a piece of the pie, too.  Henry ensures that the Pope is well aware of it.

In the winter of 1487, during an apostolic journey to Anglo-Hibernia, the Pope issues a new bull.  The New World will henceforth no longer be the exclusive preserve of Castile and Portugal—it may be colonised by any nation with the resources and inclination to do so.

Privateering

The addition of Greece to England’s territories has created a problem for the Exchequer and the Royal Navy.  England’s military must be reduced in order to stave off a fiscal crisis, but the navy is already too small to maintain permanent patrols around the home islands and faraway Greece.

Henry’s solution is to grant Letters of Reprisal to certain loyal subjects, giving them license to attack enemy ships without fear of (English) punishment.  The enemy, of course, would treat them as common criminals to be hanged.

The practice of granting the letters dates back to Henry III in 1243.  The key clauses were that only enemy goods could be seized, and that the privateer must have his plunder appraised by naval officers at home port, prior to selling the bounty.

It’s a risky move that could easily backfire, summoning the wrath of seagoing powers like Castile, France and Burgundy.  But it’s the only way England can provide some protection to the sea trade now flowing between England and Greece.

THE KINGDOM OF ENGLAND, circa JULY, 1489
Henry VII, By the Grace of God, King of England and France, Lord of Ireland, Protector of Greece.

1453-1456 Imperial Adventures
1453-1465 Imperatrix Romanorum Electus
1465-1479 Non Semper Erit Aestas
1479-1489 Graecia Capta Ferum Victorem Cepit

Constantinople—the once-grand Nova Roma of the Eastern Roman Empire—is now home to Adam Dundas’ small, beleaguered occupation army.  Every few months an Ottoman force appears outside the Theodosian Walls, intent on sieging the city.   The English garrison dutifully marches out and repels the attackers, but attrition, desertion and disease are taking a heavy toll.  In November of 1464, 4,400 English knights and infantry occupied the city; by January of 1465, only 3,300 remain.

Concurrently, the newly-created Duke of Gascony, John Neville, lands at Avarino with the Home Army once again.  This time he easily ejects a small Ottoman garrison.  Lord Gascony’s old nemesis—Ottoman Sultan Mustafa I—is now hurrying northeast across Rumelia to battle Dundas for the capital.

The Black Death ravages the Italian peninsula and many minor German states, but so far it has not appeared in any English territories.

In the English court, ecclesiastical arguments with Rome drag onward.  The practice of simony continues unabated, and there is also the problem of mortmain—the willing of one’s lands to the church.  Since the church was largely exempt from taxes, and never married or died, willed lands would be accrued in perpetuity.  Queen Mary is determined to end these practices within her realm.  She garners the support of some cardinals in the Roman Curia, demanding a General Council to resolve the issues.

Mary must also secure the northern border.  Scotland and England both maintain large 12,000-man armies on either side of the boundary—forces that should see better use against the Turks.  A series of treaties and gifts to the Stuart dynasty improves relations significantly by June of 1465.  The Scots border force is reduced by half, and the English Army of Scotland embarks for Greece.

Harmonious English-Burgundian diplomacy also permits the commitment of the Calais garrison.  Queen Mary gambles that cordial relations with this major Continental power are sufficient to keep France at bay.  The English Army maintains small forces in Ireland, Normandy and Gascony, but has left England itself undefended.  That task falls to the Royal Navy.

Declining Fortunes

Grendel this monster grim was called, march-riever mighty, in moorland living, in fen and fastness

In early July, the Constantinople garrison receives a welcome thousand-man boost from Munster—just in time to face the third Ottoman attempt to re-take the capital.  Dundas and the Anglo-Irish army of 5,200 march out to meet the foe, expecting easy victory.  The Ottomans number a mere 2,900, and are commanded by an inexperienced general of no great account.

Initally the allies inflict punishing losses on the attacking Turks, but on July 24th, 1465, Sultan Mustafa I arrives with his force of 7,900.  The English are now drastically outnumbered and forced on the defensive.  It is all Dundas can do to get two thousand men back inside the Theodosian Walls before the gates are shut.  The remaining 2,600 (including Dundas himself) are cut off from the city, fleeing in scavenged boats to the Anatolian side of the Bosporus.  The nearest allied force is a 1,500-man Portuguese siege army 441 miles away in Antalya.

In western Europe, the French-Breton War struggles to a fitful conclusion.  Brittany’s armies have been crushed, and her provinces completely overrun by the forces of Orléans and Provence.  François II, Duke of Brittany, is compelled to cede Finistère to France—but surprisingly, he is spared from forced vassalship to the Valois.

French vassal Orléans, on the other hand, is eager to seek deeper integration with its neighbour. In September of 1465, following the death of the heirless Duke of Orléans, the province is united with the French crown.

The sudden appearance of a French port opposite Land’s End compels a re-evaluation of English naval strategy.   Previously, the Gascony Squadron had assumed prime importance, charged with monitoring (and if necessary, interdicting) French naval traffic out of La Rochelle.  With the Gascony Squadron committed to the Ottoman War, and a new French port much closer to English shores, the Royal Navy begins construction of a small Western Squadron based at Plymouth.

In October, after a gruelling three-month overland march, Dundas and his army finally reach Portuguese-occupied Antalya.  There are just 2,500 emaciated survivors, who are picked up by Royal Navy cogs.  Dundas thinks they are enroute to Messina for convalescence, but he’s sadly mistaken.  Neville has ordered the fleet to deposit Dundas and his exhausted Caux garrison in Salonica for siege duty.

Allied Ascendance

Hither have fared to thee far-come men o’er the paths of ocean, people of Geatland; and the stateliest there by his sturdy band is Beowulf named

All is not lost, however.  Against the odds, the embattled city of Constantinople still resists Mustafa’s powerful siege army.  The Royal Navy is occasionally able to slip food and supplies into the city, although it’s not enough to keep privation at bay.

Admiral Clarence’s carracks have also been hard at work in the Gulf of Odessa, destroying the small navy of the Crimean Khanate and protecting troop-laden Portuguese cogs.  The Portuguese, in turn, have been performing yeoman service against the Khanate, occupying key areas of the steppes.  The Crimean Tatars offer the English alliance a return to status quo ante bellum, which is quickly accepted.  That’s one less Ottoman ally in the fight.

Meanwhile, at the end of the year, English reinforcements finally arrive in Greece.  Andrew Frobisher’s Calais garrison disembarks in Jenina and quickly captures that province.  Matthew Hobart’s Army of Scotland and Neville’s Home Army relieve the depleted Caux garrison in Salonica, just in time to repel a major assault by Vladislav II, Prince of Wallachia.  After the battle, a grateful Dundas is finally permitted to withdraw his forces to Messina for rest and resupply.

At home, an efficient system of craft guilds and apprenticeship permits major improvements in productivity.  This has the effect of increasing national revenue without raising tax levels—a very good thing for a cash-strapped nation fighting an expensive long-distance war.

Throughout 1466, a progression of seminal battles strips the Ottoman Empire of its field armies and Rumelian possessions.  English forces destroy entire Turkish armies in Salonica, Macedonia and Edirne; by February, all but the latter have been occupied.  Stalwart Constantinople continues to resist Mustafa’s siege as English armies move ever closer.  If he can subdue the Balkans in time, Neville may be able to throw all four English armies at Mustafa’s horde, lifting the siege.

The Second Fall

Then from the moorland, by misty crags, with God’s wrath laden, Grendel came.  The monster was minded of mankind now sundry to seize in the stately house

Alas, the hoped-for relief does not arrive.  Though English armies are sieging Adrianople—136 miles away—starvation and sickness have exacted their punishment on the capital.   On March 5th, 1466, Constantinople surrenders to the Turks for the second time.  The news takes several weeks to reach Adam Dundas in Messina, and hearing it breaks his constitution.  While recuperating in Messina, Lord Dundas is stricken with a severe illness in April, and dies two months later.  The carrack Trinity Royal conveys his body back to England.

Constantine’s Revenge

The outlaw dire took mortal hurt; a mighty wound showed on his shoulder, and sinews cracked, and the bone-frame burst. To Beowulf now the glory was given, and Grendel thence death-sick his den in the dark moor sought

This Ottoman victory comes at a heavy price, however.  Mustafa’s single-minded drive to concentrate his forces and liberate the capital has left the rest of his provinces ripe for the picking.  Now that England has subdued more than half of the Ottoman army, the Kingdom of Hungary spies an opportunity to steal some Turkish land.  Hungary declares war on the Ottomans and Wallachians.  The Sultan responds foolishly, racing northwest to punish Hungary, and completely bypassing all of the English-captured forts along the way.  He’s about to be cut off in a hostile land—with attrition, hunger and disease nipping at his heels.

With Mustafa off thumping the Hungarians, the allies are left without serious opposition in the southern Balkans.  Three concentrations of Turkish forces remain extant; the Sultan’s army in Hungary, the
haggard remains of four armies in Silistria, and a tiny garrison in the easternmost province of Sivas.  Neville strikes
at Silistria in November, with a force of 7,900; he succeeds in annihilating all four armies and their 4,800
janissaries.

The latter half of 1466 sees the rapid acceleration of English conquest, and by Christmas, Adam Dundas’ old command is once again threatening Constantinople.  By January of 1467, the Cross of Saint George flies triumphantly from the Hagia Sophia and Topkapi Palace.  Every Ottoman province west of the Bosporus lies under English or Hungarian occupation.

The occupation is also good news for the Exchequer.  All of the production, taxation and trade revenues that would normally go to the Turks is instead flowing into English coffers.  The amount is enough to subsidise three-quarters of the annual cost of the expeditionary forces.  The Ottoman feudal system is slowly being strangled by lack of income, coupled with increasing social unrest.

Sultan Mustafa all but ignores the occupation in favour of his vendetta against Hungary.  The English military government is undisturbed for a full year and a half, until the Turks finally force a white peace out of the Hungarians.  As the Hungarians withdraw and Mustafa pushes south, English armies quickly move to re-occupy Wallachia and Banat.  So it is that in August of 1467, Neville finds himself in Serbia, facing off against a homeward-bound Mustafa for the third time.  He has never defeated the Turk commander in any previous engagement.

The Sultan’s army is a disciplined but depleted force; it now numbers a mere 3,000 souls, but contains a significant number of artillery pieces.  Neville’s Home Army is just under 7,000 knights and infantry, with no artillery.  On the 28th of August, the two armies clash outside Belgrade.  The battle is bloody, and the artillery proves decisive.  The English inflict greater casualties, reducing the Ottomans to just 1039 men, but are forced to abandon the field under fearsome bombardment.  There is, however, a silver lining to the defeat.  Prior to the retreat, a detachment of English knights was able to outflank the Ottoman lines and fatally wound the Sultan.

In November, Neville’s army hunts down and eliminates the remaining 1,039 men.  The Sultan’s remains and regalia of state are conveyed to Constantinople.

The General Council

In January of 1468, Pope Gregory XIII finally calls a General Council.  This is due primarily to Queen Mary’s unwavering insistence that simony and mortmain be rooted out of the Catholic church.  Mary has invested a tremendous amount of energy and ducats into loading the Roman Curia with English cardinals, in the hope of enacting some reforms.  Now she eagerly awaits the result of the council’s deliberations.  This could, unfortunately, take anywhere from several months to several years, depending on the inclination of the attending bishops.

Governing the Imperium Turcicum

And the lord of earls, to each that came with Beowulf over the briny ways, an heirloom there at the ale-bench gave, precious gift

For the English, the Ottoman war is essentially over.  Munster has occupied Smyrna, and Portugal has captured everything east of Antalya and Konya.  There is sporadic fighting in Sivas, but it is conducted entirely by Portuguese infantry.  The question now is how to manage the defeated Imperium Turcicum.  Partition?  Annexation?

Portugal would prefer to keep some of its captured Anatolian provinces, but Munster would never be able to afford permanent garrisons in Smyrna.   Some English nobles would like to keep Greece, but that notion dies after the narrow defeat of a large Greek rebellion in English-occupied Salonica.  A particularly zealous advisor floats the idea of resurrecting the Eastern Roman Empire, ceding all English-occupied Turk territories to it.  But this concept is roundly criticised by Germanic states, who consider their Holy Roman Empire to be the legitimate successor to the Caesars of antiquity.   Mary’s preference is to partition the European portion into its original constituent nations, releasing the remainder back to the Turks.  Christian colonisation of these lands is impractical, as the fate of the medieval Crusader states has shown.

The negotiations with alliance partners continue into the spring of 1468, but are given new urgency by a renewed outbreak of the Black Plague in Valois-ruled France.  The Gascony Squadron is sent home at once, to interdict plague-infected French shipping.  The Calais garrison is also recalled from Turkey.  Mary wants all of her forces back on home turf—they might be needed to quarantine infected towns and villages.

A peace agreement is concluded on June 6th, 1468.  The Turks are compelled to release Serbia, Morea, Bulgaria and Karaman as independent states, but—in light of allied revenue earned during the occupation—are forgiven any financial reparations.

It’s been a costly campaign in humans terms, though.  Every English army that fought in the war has lost greater than 54% of its authorised strength, and some have lost far more.  The English Army of Scotland is down to just 3,459 of its original 12,000 men—a loss of over 71 percent.

A False Peace

Six days after the end of the English-Ottoman War, France declares war on the Duchy of Burgundy.  French vassals Provence and Cyprus back the invasion, but Norway elects to terminate its military alliance  with the Valois kings.  Lorraine pledges support to Burgundy.  But it’s not only western Europe that erupts in conflict; the Balkans are back at war, too.

On June 26th, 1468, the Kingdom of Bosnia declares war on the Ottoman Empire.  The very same day, the Beylik of Karaman declares war on the Duchy of Athens.  Both parties are English protectorates, but John Neville is not about to turn on the Greeks he has spent the past five years fighting to save.  When no English support is forthcoming, the Karamanids sever the alliance.

At the end of July, newly-independent Serbia and Bulgaria declare war on the Ottomans and demand English assistance.  Neville refuses to break the two-month-old truce with the Turks.  He knows that severe condemnation awaits truce violators, but most importantly, his armies are hazardously low on manpower and supplies.  England is not yet ready to fight another war.

Church Reforms

In February of 1469, after a year of deliberations, the assembled bishops of the General Council finally agree upon some reforms.  While the Council does not specifically address Mary’s irritants (simony and mortmain), it does take steps to limit the practice of pluralism—that is, the holding of more than one benefice by a single clergyman.

From this point forward, clergy are required to reside in the diocese they serve.  This should eliminate the problem of absentee bishops, who have multiple benefices and do not adequately care for all of their flocks.  It’s a small but significant step, and Queen Mary is pleased with the council’s wisdom.

Ó Diubhgeannáin’s Rebellion

On June 1st, 1470, two thousand Irish rebels led by Domhnall Ó Diubhgeannáin revolt against Muireadhach II, King of Leinster.  The Irish monarch’s thousand-man army is surprised and quickly defeated.  Muireadhach himself manages to escape via sea to the Pale, where he entreats English General Adam Brock for assistance.  Surely England has no wish to see rebel scum overturn the rightful lords of Eire?

Happily, Leinster’s modest but sincere assistance in the Ottoman War is not forgotten by London.  The 6,000-strong Army of Ireland marches out of the Pale, and within a month, Muireadhach is once again ensconced in Waterford, his ancestral home.  In gratitude, Leinster offers a trade agreement to improve economic ties with England.  Queen Mary accepts without hesitation.

Matters Spiritual

On July 26th, 2470, Admiral Anthony Clarence, hero of the English-Ottoman War, passes away at Trematon Castle, near Plymouth.  A new Royal Navy carrack is christened “Clarence” in his honour.

Queen Mary is also keen to encourage the expansion of mendicant orders throughout England.  Since Pope Adrian IV—the only English pontiff—was an Augustinian, that order is specifically invited to establish itself  in London.

In November, Pope Gregory XIII dies.  A church conclave is called, and by February, the College of Cardinals has selected a new Pope, Urban VII.  The new Pope seems to be something of a reformer, and relations with England improve.

Turkish Resurgence and European Turmoil

The various Balkan wars with the Ottomans have turned disastrous.  Despite their earlier defeat by England and her allies, the Turks have rallied quickly and dealt a severe blow to several Balkan kingdoms.  In September of 1471, exhausted Bosnia cedes the province of Hum as part of a peace agreement.  Three months later, defeated Bulgaria cedes the province of Silistria to the Ottomans.

The island of Crete finally wins its independence war against Aragon.  English diplomats scramble to establish favourable relations with the new country, as Crete was an invaluable naval base during the Ottoman war.

In October of 1472, France accepts peace with Burgundy, taking the provinces of Nevers and Franche-Comté.  Later the same month, the elderly Duke of Anjou and Provence dies without offspring; his feudal lands are subsequently inherited by the new King of France, Charles VIII.  All of the minor French vassals have now been gobbled up.  The English garrisons in Normandy, Caux and Calais have finally returned to authorised strength, but morale is low as a result of peacetime half-pay and cost-cutting.

Simmering tensions on the Italian peninsula break out in war once again.  In the summer of 1473, Aragon, Sicily and Venice face off against The Papal States and Urbino.  Since Roma is the Pope’s only territory, there are fears that Sicily may aim to annex Rome itself.  The English Parliament votes extra funding to bring the army and navy up to wartime readiness.  The thoroughly ancient John Neville, Duke of Gascony, is recalled from Bordeaux and told to prepare the Home Army for the liberation of Roma.

But the war outpaces Europe’s ability to react.  Within three months, Aragon has annexed Urbino and forced the Papal States into vassalage and payment of war reparations.  With Rome still nominally free, England’s casus belli evaporates.

Changes at Court

While in London preparing for the anticipated English-Aragonese War, John Neville dies on September 15th, 1473.  Having served two English monarchs in victorious campaigns, the Duke is a very popular figure.

He lies at Westminster Palace for twelve hours, while a file of priests, nobles and city dignitaries pass by him in respect and sorrow.  The next day, his remains are taken to the Chapel of St. Stephen, where he lies in state, dressed in a full suit of armour, for eight days.  Masses are sung throughout this period and offerings made.  Guards are posted every night to prevent desecration.  Finally, Neville is interred at Chertsey Abbey, where Henry VI is also entombed.

In March of 1474, Lord High Treasurer Ernest de Clifford dies.   He had served Henry and Mary’s Privy Councils for twenty-one years, and masterminded a large increase in England’s trade income.  He is replaced at council by Nicolas de Chastellux, Archbishop of Canterbury, who prefers to concentrate on development and reform of the church.

The Balkans Overwhelmed

Throughout 1474, Ottoman Sultan Mehmet V wages a series of wars to reconquer the liberated European territories.  In April, the remnant of Bulgaria is invaded and annexed.  Then seven months later, former Turkish ally Wallachia is betrayed, invaded, and forced to cede the province of Oltenia.  The Turks now have a land corridor to Banat, and the heart of Hungarian territory.  None of the Balkan nations has strength or allies enough to deter the implacable Ottoman expansion.

Anglo-Hibernia

Leinster’s financial situation has been dire; it could not even afford to maintain an army in the wake of the 1470 (Ó Diubhgeannáin)
Rebellion.  On April 29th, 1475, the King of Leinster dies, leaving behind an impoverished minor as heir.  The similarly insolvent lords of Leinster form a regency council, but are unable to agree on several key succession issues, so Queen Mary is sought as an arbiter.

Mary presents the regency with an offer of her own:  England is willing to bail out Leinster’s treasury, construct civic improvements in all of its towns, assume total responsibility for defence and grant Leinstermen the same rights as Englishmen.  The catch: Leinster must become an integral part of England, and her future king a mere petty earl in the House of Lords.  Mary gently reminds the lords that England was forced into the Munster-Leinster War, refused to militarily annex the kingdom after victory was won, and restored the rightful king to the throne in the 1470 Rebellion—with nothing expected in return.  The offer proves irresistible to the poverty-stricken Leinstermen, and in May the regency council signs the instrument of annexation.

The neighboring Kingdom of Munster is also stricken with chronic financial problems and an heir in minority.  Munster’s nobility assemble their own regency council, and receive a similar offer from Mary.  England has proven her bona fides to this Irish kingdom as well.  When Donal VIII declared war on his neighbour in 1453, an English army accompanied him across the border.  This in spite of the fact that the outcome of the Hundred Years War was very much in doubt, and every other army was fighting in France.  Ever since, England has purposefully maintained an Army of Ireland large enough to protect all four counties at once, should it be required.  The presence of that English force allowed both Munster and Leinster to send the entirety of their small armies—commanded in the field by their respective sovereigns—to the Ottoman War, thousands of miles away.   Nor did England ever take advantage of the Irish kingdoms’ defenselessness during that time.

On October 10th, 1475, Munster’s regency council votes to accept integration into the English polity.  The entire southern half of Ireland receives major civil and military infrastructure upgrades, and the English Parliament welcomes new lords and commons from Anglo-Hibernia.

Outrageous Indulgence

The medieval Catholic church was the fount of almost all social welfare and charity, and all this social do-gooding needed to be paid for.  Beginning in the 12th century, various hospitals and other organizations affiliated with the church sent out proctors begging for money—begging, however, was not a highly effective way to raise funds.

In the late 13th century, the church came up with the idea of indulgences.  Indulgences substituted the good works of the Catholic clergy for the good works required of the individual believer.  Since the clergy were doing more good works than they needed to, they had more good works in their “spiritual accounts” than they had sins to pay for.  Selling the surplus seems like a natural solution, but it arouses fierce criticism from certain quarters in northern Europe, particularly England.

Queen Mary and her Archbishop of Canterbury roundly criticise the sale of indulgences, but do not  wish to precipitate an outright breach with Rome by branding the practice illegal.

The Second English-Ottoman War

To Heorot came she, where helmeted Danes slept in the hall.  Too soon came back old ills of the earls, when in she burst, the mother of Grendel

While Queen Mary is making the case for Anglo-Irish unity, the Ottoman Turks are practicing the more martial and involuntary sort.  First the Turks invade southern Hungary, and then Athens.  After a brief siege, on November 20th, 1475, the Duke of Athens is compelled to surrender and accept military annexation into the Ottoman Empire.

When the news reaches London, the royal court is confounded.  A mere seven years after the end of the English-Ottoman War, England’s prestige and credibility are on the line again.

Fortunately, England has learned some valuable lessons from the last war.  Although her officer corps are a pitiful shadow of what they once were,  well-trained, professional men-at-arms now supplant the peasant levies of old.  Reinforcements and reserves are key to the new campaign; four armies will be landed in total—two for the initial assault, and two more in reserve.  There will be a six-month delay in the arrival of the reserves, since the navy’s cogs spend three months each on the outbound and return journeys. Both squadrons of the Royal Navy’s carracks will precede the transports to the Mediterranean, and remain on station throughout.  If circumstances and diplomacy permit, they will resupply in Morea, Naxos or Crete.

On March 15th, 1476, Admiral St. Clair’s force arrives in the Aegean Sea and delivers England’s declaration of war to the Sanjakbey of Athens.  As before, the Ottoman Navy fails to appear, even after a week.  The Gascony Squadron relocates to the Ionian Sea to cover the first landings.

On April 2nd, 1476, English cogs approach the ancient fortress at Avarino.  Once again, there is an Ottoman army besieging the town.  This time, it is a small 3,000-man force—rather easily dislodged by Howard’s 7,400-strong Home Army.  An auspicious start to the second Turkish campaign.

The Glorious Fifth of May

“Rise, O realm-warder! Ride we anon, and mark the trail of the mother of Grendel.  No harbor shall hide her—heed my promise!—enfolding of field or forested mountain or floor of the flood, let her flee where she will!  But thou this day endure in patience, as I ween thou wilt, thy woes each one.”

The Royal Navy flotilla in the Aegean comes under attack in mid-April; a Turkish force of fourteen galleys and two cogs takes on the twelve carracks.  English strategy depends on local naval superiority—if the carracks are sunk, the cogs will be easy prey for Turkish galleys.  Without the ability to reinforce and resupply at will, England’s invasion armies will quickly succumb to hunger and disease.

The battle is hard-fought, with the Royal Navy taking serious damage but inflicting greater casualties on the Turks.  Both sides send for additional ships; their fates now ride with the swiftest messenger.

Ultimately the Royal Navy is quicker to respond; English carracks from the Ionian patrol arrive just in the nick of time.  On the 5th of May, 1476, all sixteen Turkish ships are sunk—the bulk of Ottoman naval forces from the Aegean and Black Seas.  The Royal Navy has miraculously lost none, but is forced to retire a squadron to Crete for repairs.

English transports are now free to travel the Mediterranean unescorted, and land troops anywhere in Rumelia or Anatolia.

Annus Mirabilis

Lo, sudden the shift! To me seated secure came grief for joy when Grendel began to harry my home, the hellish foe; for those ruthless raids, unresting I suffered heart-sorrow heavy. Heaven be thanked, Lord Eternal, for life extended that I on this head all hewn and bloody, after long evil, with eyes may gaze!
– Go to the bench now! Be glad at banquet, warrior worthy! A wealth of treasure at dawn of day, be dealt between us!

The remainder of 1476 is a good year for the English expeditionary forces.  The most powerful Ottoman armies are engaged in Hungary, leaving Rumelia with only a handful of weak reserve units.   Although English reserves are not landed until October, the two vanguard armies are able to easily push aside the Ottoman forces throughout Greece and the southern Balkans.  The Second English-Ottoman War is proceeding at a much more rapid pace than the First.

The Turks seem to lack disciplined and effective leadership in the field; by December, nearly all of their European territories are occupied by England or Hungary.  And by February of 1477, Constantinople is under siege once more.  The city surrenders on May 17th, 1477, after a 91-day siege.

The Ottomans are, once again, deprived of considerable income and trade—which is now funding the English war effort.  Turk attempts at parley become more frequent as their coffers slowly empty.

Due to the rapid success of the English invasion, Hungary now finds it difficult to wage war on the Ottomans without violating English-occupied territory.  To allow the Hungarians to prosecute their own war more fully, a military access treaty is concluded between the two countries.

England also scores three notable diplomatic successes in the summer of 1477.  A military access treaty is signed with the Duchy of Naxos.  This permits the English army and navy to save time by refitting and resupplying in the Aegean Sea, instead of having to sail to Crete or Sicily.

Lawrence Howard succeeds in conquering fickle Ottoman ally Wallachia.  On September 30th, 1477, the Prince of Wallachia terminates his vassalship to the Turks, and agrees to swear vassalage to Queen-Empress Mary.  This is mainly an effort to deprive the Ottomans of vassal income and additional troops.

Admiral St. Clair concludes a trade agreement with the Knights-Hospitallers of Rhodes, so that merchants of the two nations do not compete each other out of shared markets.  This isn’t a huge concern for England, since the Knights tend to draw most of their revenue from piracy against Turkish vessels.  But’s it’s a small step forward for Catholic-Orthodox relations, which has otherwise been fairly frosty.

The devil takes a hand in what is done in haste

Hungary signs an inexplicably generous peace treaty with the  Ottomans—they agree to status quo ante bellum and forego the opportunity to reclaim two previously-captured territories.  There is also the unfortunate side effect of freeing up several Ottoman armies.

Lawrence Howard also wants a quick conclusion to the war; he wants a deal signed before any Turkish armies in Hungary have the chance to come south and disrupt the occupation.  While some advisors argue for an English protectorate of all Greece, Howard disagrees.  While it is true that no Balkan or Aegean power has the wherewithal to hold off the Ottomans, England’s destiny lies in western Europe.  She is merely fulfilling her Christian duty by preserving the last tenuous remnants of the faith in the former Empire of the Greeks.

On November 17th, 1477, both sides agree to a hastily negotiated peace agreement.  Once again, England eschews the notion of taking the Turks as vassals, or annexing any of their territory.  The Ottoman Turks are forced to release Bulgaria and Athens as sovereign states, and relinquish all territorial claims to Zeta, Bosnia, Albania and Wallachia.

Classical Values

The exposure of tens of thousands of English soldiers and sailors to the environs of classical antiquity has another, thoroughly unintended side effect.  England is a lot further away from the Turks than Greece, and, having
waged two long-distance wars, seems very unlikely to be overrun with
janissaries.  The winter of 1477 sees significant emigration from the Aegean to Albion.

The returning Anglo-Normans bring not only physical artifacts and souvenirs, but a considerable number of learned Greek scholars as well.  In this way English theologians and scholars gain exposure to Greek, Hebrew, the biblical languages, and the humanist ontology of Roman and Greek philosophers—dutifully preserved over the ages by Byzantine scribes.

It is a revolution in moral philosophy, and the beginning of what would later come to be known as the English Renaissance.

In the summer of 1478, the reshaping of the intellectual landscape is momentous enough to generate widespread call for religious rejuvenation.  Reformist ideas of intellectual freedom are being pitted against ecclesiastical authority.

Church reform is now no longer Queen Mary’s pet project, but something discussed and hoped for in palaces, seminaries and universities throughout England (and her French and Irish provinces).

The Queen uses her influence within the Roman Curia to press for Papal reform, devoting a significant amount of energy and treasure to the effort.

Absit Invidia

Since the severing of the French/Scots “Auld Alliance” in 1463, England has sought to ally with Scotland to secure her northern border.  Relations throughout Mary’s reign have been cordial—in fact they have risen to an all-time high—yet Holyrood Palace has consistently refused to ally with London.  Although the Scots are still quite friendly, English emissaries hear whispers of an ill wind from across the Channel.

On May 6th, 1479, the Auld Alliance is resurrected.  Mary II, Queen of Scots, signs a military alliance with King Charles VIII of France.  England scrambles to respond; she needs a military access treaty, in order to keep tabs on French doings in Scotland.  The Army of Scotland is still badly mauled from the Second Ottoman War—a mere 2,268 souls, one-fifth of her peacetime strength.  It is the smallest, weakest English garrison in any of her territories—and the obvious place for any aggressor to strike.

1453-1456 Imperial Adventures
1453-1465 Imperatrix Romanorum Electus
1465-1479 Non Semper Erit Aestas
1479-1489 Graecia Capta Ferum Victorem Cepit

Winning the Peace

An exhausted England rejoices at the Treaty of Toulouse and the end of the Hundred Years War.  Church bells exult the great victory, and John Neville earns the sobriquet “Hammer of the French”.  Finally, England’s Norman rights are confirmed.

Thousands of mercenaries are released from service, and both the army and navy are put on half-pay.  With the sudden lack of military employment, however, arrives malcontent and michief.  Out-of-work mercenaries start pillaging the Queen’s loyal subjects, causing a spike in crime.  Many of these ecorcheurs are caught and punished, and as a crime-fighting measure, the Chancellor of the Exchequer reluctantly agrees to delay separation for those mercenaries still on the payroll.

The war effort has also been detrimental to England’s reputation in foreign palaces; some kings on the Continent worry that she harbours expansionist ambitions beyond Normandy and Gascony.  Henry VI was never particularly gifted in quashing these rumours—??especially given his father’s martial  skill—??but fourteen-year-old Mary is a born diplomat and shrewd judge who easily befriends lords and nobles at home and abroad.  She uses this skill to good effect, marrying off cousins of Lancaster and York into the royal bloodlines of allied nations (Portugal, Munster, Leinster), useful neighbours (Scotland, Tyrone, Connaught, Brittany) and powerful potential allies (Burgundy).  Best of all, Mary stuns Europe by convincing loyal Portugal to abandon their alliance with Castile and become England’s vassal, complete with regular fief income.  Even relations with France become almost cordial.

At home, the returning English Army handily defeats rebellious lords in Meath, Wessex and Nothumberland.  Mary chooses mercy over vengeance, offering to pardon those who submit.  With great numbers of soldiers returning every day, few rabble-rousing nobles are inclined to risk their necks; the rebellions fizzle out by December of 1456.

Things are relatively quiet for the next couple of years, as the Exchequer concentrates on paying off war debts.  Harsh spending cuts are imposed to curtail inflation.  English merchants start to gain ground in foreign markets, and royal revenues expand slowly but steadily.  The army, however, is still a bit of a drag on the budget.  France maintains massive forces adjacent to Normandy and Caux, and those garrisons actually increase their peacetime strength.  Likewise the English army in Northumberland; it must remain at full strength (albeit still on half-pay) to counter Scotland’s 5,000 knights and 7,000 infantry across the border.

Obstinate Rome

In 1458, peasants and minor monks in Oxfordshire, Cumbria and several other provinces complain about the practice of simony—the sale or purchase of ecclesiastical office or position.  Through sympathetic abbots and bishops, their grievances reach royal ears.  Over the next two years, heated exchanges between London and Rome become so fierce that several bishops retire early, and relations with Pope Gregory XII are severely strained.

This also has the perverse effect of earning Mary the admiration of several Electors of the Holy Roman Empire, whose German princes incessantly struggle with the Pope on matters of secular and temporal authority.  Despite the Concordat of Vienna in 1448, there are occasional flare-ups whenever Rome disagrees with the investitures made by these minor German princes.

Mary has some designs on the Holy Roman Empire as well, seeing it as a potential counterweight to expansionist France.  Through England’s constant support of Brunswick, and a cousin’s marriage to the Habsburg dynasty, Mary hopes that the College of Electors will see fit to make her a Princess-Elector as well.  To this end she launches a charm offensive on the Frederick III (of Austria), Holy Roman Emperor, and several monarchs of the Elector states.  The German and Austrian nobility is lavished with gifts, and their emissaries in London treated to sumptuous state dinners, but it is all for naught.  Frederick dies in the winter of 1461 without ever having considered England’s accession to the College.  His son Matthias I succeeds him as Archduke of Austria.

Young and inexperienced Matthias, however, is extremely unpopular with his Germanic peers.  Additionally, his father’s inability to save southern Hungary from Ottoman expansion has contributed to the perception of Austria as weak and ineffectual.  The diplomatic exploits of Mary and her senior advisors, however,  are well-known, as is her military victory over France.  The College of Electors narrowly selects Mary as the next Empress of the Holy Roman Empire.  But there’s one small complication.

The Emperors have traditionally been crowned by the Pope, and also ordained as subdeacons in the Catholic church.  The ecclesiastical ordination is an impossibility for a woman—even a reigning queen—??and Gregory XII refuses to budge from this point.  Mary is furious, but realises there is little she can do; even an enormously popular queen cannot war against the Successor of Saint Peter without incurring significant domestic and international opprobrium.

Since she cannot be ordained into the Catholic church, there is little reason to travel to Rome.  On January 4th, 1461, Mary becomes the first Empress of the Holy Roman Empire, and the first imperial leader to not be crowned in Rome.

Queen-Empress

Peace and prosperity flourish throughout English territories, thanks largely to the reputation and skills of Mary’s senior court and military leaders, all retained from her father’s reign.  The reality, however, is that the peace is a fragile one.  England is a paper tiger, whose army appears large and ferocious, but is led by inexperienced lambs—aging Sir John Neville being the sole exception.

Diplomatically, however, England is still a powerhouse; in August of 1461, allied Leinster agrees to become an English vassal and surrender half her income in tribute.  And there are still plenty of suitors for Mary’s troth—although marriage is not likely to be the first priority of a nineteen-year-old Queen-Empress with pan-European responsibilities.

Only a few months elapse before Europe erupts in war once again.  Sicily finally tires of Rome’s autocratic high hand, and, along with allies Aragon and Venice, launches an invasion of the Papal States.  Rome’s ally Crete springs to her defence, but the defenders are hard-pressed and badly outnumbered.  Although Henry VI had formally guaranteed the indepedence of the Papal States, Mary—still smarting from the Pope’s refusal to ordain her—refuses to sign a declaration of war on the aggressors.  She does, however, authorise the covert funding of a rebellion in Sicily’s capital province, Napoli.

Since the Papal States are geographically disparate—encompassing Roma and Romagna in Italy, and Avignon (which is entirely encircled by France)—most observers agree that all three territories cannot be occupied simultaneously.  Especially since France is not likely to let large foreign armies transit her territory.  The Bishop of Rome, therefore, will always have refuge in Avignon (or so the theory goes).

The Sicilian-Papal War drags on into 1462, with Rome succumbing to Sicilian siege and occupation.  From Avignon, the Pope canonises the worthy 5th century Welsh abbot Paulinus of Wales, a not-so-subtle olive branch offered to England.  Mary remains unmoved; the chastening of the Pontiff is not exactly unwelcome news.  No Catholic nation ought dare to annex Rome itself, so his discomfort is thought temporary at best.

In January of 1463, nobles around London introduce agricultural reforms for the coming season, eventually causing an increase in the harvest (and associated tax revenues).  Although the peasants tend to grumble and resist change, the complaints fall off after a record-breaking harvest.    There is no arguing with success.

Mary is not the only monarch with significant diplomatic success; France scores a major coup with the peaceful, diplomatic annexation of vassal Auvergne.

But all is not peaceful elsewhere in Europe; in the spring, the sprawling Ottoman Empire declares war on the tiny (but spirited) Duchy of Athens, one of Europe’s last surviving crusader states.  This is a war that Europe has dreaded, for when Ottoman janissaries march, they are invariably successful.  Henry VI had guaranteed Athens’ independence as a hedge against further Ottoman expansion; what he hadn’t considered at length were the logistics of transporting and supplying English forces to such a remote location.

The temporary loss of Rome to fellow Catholics is tolerable; the permanent loss of the cradle of Western civilisation to Muslims is not.  The Fall of Constantinople is within living memory for many; Mary herself was eleven years old at the time.  The English court is swamped by emissaries of Catholic and Orthodox nations pleading for action.  As Ottoman allies Crimea and Wallachia join the fight, weak Athens stands alone.

Prelude to War

Greece is a rather long way from England by sail; the Royal Navy requires ports for resupply, and the English Army requires safe passage through foreign lands.  English emissaries seek and receive military access rights from Aragon, Morea and Athens.

John Neville, Hammer of the French, is recalled from Normandy and given command of the Home Army.  In April of 1463, four-fifths of the Royal Navy and 10,000 knights and men are dispatched on the three-month journey from England to Greece.

As is her custom, querulous France complicates matters for the English.  In May, Henri II peacefully annexes longtime vassal Bourbonnais; in June he invades Brittany, aided by all of his French vassals and Norway.  The Irish county of Tyrone sides with Brittany, fueling rumours of a French invasion of Ireland.

The assault on Brittany shatters the Auld Alliance; Scotland and Connaught categorically refuse to sign on to the conquest. England is also caught off-guard, with the bulk of her fleet and troops thousands of miles away.  One thing is certain, though; not one peck of Irish soil can be ceded to France.  Brittany, however, is expendable.

Mary immediately guarantees the independence of Tyrone, and sends a stern warning to France: if any French ships enter St. George’s Channel, they will be fired upon; if any French soldiers disembark in Ireland, they will be opposed.  England will arrest any French expansion into her home isles by as much violence as she can muster.

The English-Ottoman War

On July 28th, 1463, twelve Royal Navy carracks sail into the Aegean and take up station off Turk-occupied Athens; Admiral Anthony Clarence goes ashore under flag of truce and delivers England’s declaration of war to the local bey.  No Ottoman war-galleys row out to engage him, and after a week of patrolling, Clarence dispatches word to Neville that the Ottoman Turks will not fight.  It’s just as well, because the long journey and poor shipboard nutrition have invalided about 2,000 men from the English force, leaving a still-considerable 8,000.

Neville plans a reprise of his French victory.  He will land half his force at the ancient stronghold of Pylos (Avarino) in Morea, giving himself a secure beachhead from which to tackle the Ottoman forces further north.  The other half will be disembarked at Antalya to threaten Ottoman holdings in Asia Minor.  With their attention divided between two fronts, the Ottoman Turks will be able to concentrate on neither, and lose initiative to the English.  With the plan in hand, Admiral Clarence re-positions his carracks in the Ionian Sea to cover the first landing.

One week later, Clarence’s carracks escort Neville’s cogs into the quiet bay of Avarino.  Initially silent, the townspeople raise a cheer at the unfurling of English colours.  The reason why becomes clear momentarily, as lookouts quickly identify many janissaries sieging the town.  The exact number of enemy is unclear, but Neville senses that his timing is profound.  He commits the entire Home Army of 8,000 souls.  English knights and infantry are hurriedly rowed ashore, under fire from hastily re-targeted Turkish siege artillery.

Neville then leads his troops in a furious assault on the siege army, but over the next few days it becomes apparent that the Ottoman force is much larger and better-equipped than he had imagined.  It covers much of the Ionian coast of Morea, and is sieging several forts (Avarino, Modon, Corone) at once.  In fact, the Turkish army numbers 6,000 sipahi, 4,000 janissaries and 200 cannon to his mere 3,000 knights and 5,000 men.  And the Turk commander is no less a figure than Sultan Mustafa I, ruler of the Ottoman Empire, son of Mehmet II the Conqueror.

Neville has blundered into the one force in Eastern Europe effortlessly capable of destroying his own.  Mustafa’s elite Sipahi cavalry inflict punishing losses on the expeditionary force, and cut off the English avenue of retreat to the sea.  The sultan quite realistically anticipates the easy capture or slaughter of Neville’s entire army.  English morale plummets; not only are they seriously outnumbered, but evacuation to their waiting ships is now too risky and time-consuming to be worthwhile.  They must quickly retreat northeast—toward the Isthmus of Corinth, and further into Ottoman-occupied territory—for any hope of survival.  Admiral Clarence can only watch as the defeated invasion army beats a hasty retreat into the Greek countryside.

As the English army flees headlong, Mustafa declines to pursue; though his Athenian garrison is much smaller than the campaign army in Morea, he is certain that the demoralised English will not be able to evict it.  Beyond that, lifting the sieges of Avarino and Modon with Royal Navy warships and transports nearby would give the English free rein to resupply the starving Greek and Venetian defenders.

The sultan’s calculations prove largely correct.  When Neville’s 5,300 survivors encounter the 4,000-strong Athens garrison, the English take another 500 casualties and are once again forced to retreat.  This time, they flee west toward the Gulf of Lepanto.  Fortunately, dutiful Clarence has his cogs scouring the Gulf in the hopes of recovering some survivors.  Neville and his remaining troops are evacuated to Messina, on the island of Sicily.  The invasion appears to be an utter failure.

The Battle of the Aegean

Meanwhile, Clarence’s carracks maintain patrols in the Ionian and Aegean seas, but are not challenged by the Ottoman navy until the evening of September 15th, 1463.  A lone Turkish transport, the Ionas Osman, stumbles into the Aegean patrol and is quickly boarded and captured.  “Thus go the vaunted Ottoman Turks,” writes Admiral Clarence in a letter to his wife.  His frustration is roundly shared by the fleet, whose war has been characterised by an almost complete lack of action.

On a clear October dawn, English lookouts spot a cluster of lateen sails on the horizon; twelve Turkish war-galleys have made their way down the Bosporus and out into the Aegean Sea. Finally, the Royal Navy will come to grips with the enemy.

A fierce battle rages for several hours between the slow but well-armed carracks, and the lightly-armed, faster galleys.  By six bells on the forenoon watch, another cluster of sails approaches the combatants.  Clarence weighs his options.  Although the carracks are gradually inflicting more damage, additional galleys could run rings around them and push the battle in favour of the Turks.   The approaching ships are four transports— lightly-armed, but still a threat to a squadron battling for its life.

As the new arrivals draw alongside the flagship, they display their colours.  Portugal and Munster have joined the war!

The combined allied fleet proceeds to disable and sink all twelve galleys, eviscerating Ottoman naval power in the Mediterranean.  The English carracks then escort the allied transports into Athens, where they disgorge 2,500 Portuguese and 1,000 Munstermen.

The Battle of Athens

The Portuguese-Irish army, led by José Manuel da Gama, is small but highly disciplined.  Despite a month of inclement weather, inferior numbers and heavy casualties, by December of 1463 da Gama has routed the 4,000-man Ottoman garrison.  The price of victory is steep—1,400 Portuguese and Irish soldiers, equal to 40% of his initial force, have paid the ultimate price.

Then hubris—or madness—strikes.

Despite his terrific success, da Gama is not satisfied.  Without sieging the city, or allowing his men time to rest and recuperate, he orders the 1,400 Portuguese to pursue the fleeing 3,200 Turks.  The 745 Munstermen are given an even more Herculean task—tackle Mustafa’s enormous 10,000-man siege army, still in Morea.  It is a suicide mission.

As de Gama’s men march away from the city, Leinster—another Irish ally—lands 1,000 infantry to begin the siege.

Back in Sicily, John Neville’s English army has managed to replace some losses by recruiting two thousand Sicilian and Aragonese volunteers.  Six thousand of his men are landed at Athens to assist in the siege, which lasts until February of 1464.  Athens is free once more.

Neville prepares the Home Army to face Mustafa’s enormous siege army once more, but those plans are cut short.  Just four days after the liberation of Athens, the Despotate of Morea surrenders unconditionally and accepts Ottoman military annexation.

European Complications

All is not well in western Europe, either.  France is busy funding privateers in the English Channel, and the small picket force left in the home islands is having difficulty keeping them away from English shipping.

Ultimately a joint Anglo-Breton flotilla takes care of the privateers, but England can’t count on Brittany’s occasional assistance for much longer.  Brittany is nearly spent by the war with France.  Although a Breton army threatens the French province of Maine, armies from Provence and Orleans have occupied large swaths of Brittany.  And France has not yet released her large northern armies from their border garrisons opposite Normandy and Caux.  It is only a matter of time before François II, Duke of Brittany, runs out of men, money, or land.

Pope Gregory XII’s Sicilian-Papal War has gone badly, too.  Rome has been occupied for three years, depriving the Papal States of the bulk of their revenue.  Although the Pope himself is safe in Avignon, his revenues and lands stagnate.  He is unwilling to capitulate to the demands of Sicily (and her alliance leader, Aragon), but he hasn’t had much success in finding allies, either.

At last Gregory’s cabinet and cardinals force him to concede.  On November 11, 1464, the Papal States cede Romagna to Aragon, release Avignon as an independent state, and pay war reparations.  The former Pope Gregory XII is reduced in ecclesiastical rank to Archbishop and receives the diocese of Avignon as his archbishopric.  An English-backed cardinal in Rome succeeds him, becoming Pope Gregory XIII.

One spot of good news is that Ireland is no longer threatened.  Realising that he cannot bring Tyrone to heel without incurring Mary’s wrath, Henri II makes a separate, status-quo peace with the Irish county.  English and Irish nobles now rest a little easier at night, no longer worried about an imminent war with France.  The easing of tensions permits Queen Mary to deploy the Caux garrison to Asia Minor, under the command of Adam Dundas.

Next Year in Constantinople

The arrival of another 8,000 English troops in Greece allows Neville to set the stage anew for his planned two-front war.  Neville will move north into Salonica, while Clarence’s cogs transport Dundas to Antalya.  The expectation is that Sultan Mustafa will move to re-take Salonica, leaving Dundas free to siege his way though Asia Minor—much as Neville had done in southern France more than a decade before.

And indeed, that is precisely what happens.  Neville’s capture of Salonica in September 1464 prompts Mustafa to move his siege army out of Morea by way of Janina.  Curiously, he completely avoids contact with the puny Athens garrison of 1,000 Leinstermen.

In the mean time, Dundas begins landing his forces at Antalya, but reverses himself after intriguing news from Admiral Clarence.  Fleet scouts have seen cogs from Portugal and Leinster pushing through the Bosporus, and apparently the allies are landing small raiding parties of 1-2,000 men in Wallachia and Crimea.

Young Dundas knows this is a golden opportunity to take the Ottoman vassals out of the war.  But in order to keep the allied raiders resupplied, someone has to keep the Bosporus open.

The twelve Royal Navy carracks fight their way through the Bosporus to the Sea of Marmara.  Once there they find that the Ottoman Black Sea squadron is a mere three galleys, all of whom are quickly destroyed. At the same time, the unescorted transport squadron makes for the ancient city of Constantinople—capital of the Ottoman Empire.  The young general can hardly believe his luck—there are no enemy armies present, just the city garrison.  It’s still a formidable opponent; the capital’s garrison numbers 3,000 souls, and its massive walls have held off much larger armies.  Fortunately Dundas has an ace up his sleeve; two hundred ducats for buying off key officials responsible for the defense of the city.

Neville, meanwhile, has successfully distracted Mustafa from the assault on the capital, but the old general has no better luck fighting the Turkish potentate the second time around.  The simple truth is that Mustafa’s sipahi and janissaries outclass English knights and infantry.  The best Neville can hope for is to delay the Turkish re-capture of Salonica by a few weeks.

The English casualties are, once again, extreme; 3,028 of the original 7,167 men are killed in Salonica.  The Royal Navy evacuates the survivors to Crete for rest and resupply.

Fortunately, it’s enough.  Neville’s delaying action has kept Mustafa in Salonica, long enough for Dundas’ spies to work their magic.  On the night of November 26th, 1464, a powder magazine in the Theodosian Walls detonates, leaving a significant breach in city defenses.   English knights and soldiers rush through the gap and overwhelm the defenders.

Two days later, Constantinople surrenders to Adam Dundas.

One of my favourite games in this genre was Europa Universalis II, which lets the player select one of two-hundred-odd nations across the globe, and shepherd its military, diplomatic, financial, technological, colonial, religious and philosophical development from 1419 to 1820.  EU2 was a great game, made even better by the addition of user-created mods which added thousands of historical events to the timeline.  Its one great failing was that its AI was relatively restricted; it would follow the events scripted for all of the various computer-controlled nations, but not really adapt to dynamic local conditions.  The AI showed no finesse in diplomacy or waging wars; you could pretty much count on AI-controlled nations not to gang up on you unless you went on a world-conquering spree.  And certain events (i.e. Wars of the Roses) fired solely due to their implacable scripted nature, whether your nation was an oasis of calm and stability, or a revolution-riddled basket-case.

Things were much improved in its successor, Europa Universalis III.  The AI is much more crafty and aggressive, more like a human player.  If you are too powerful an opponent militarily, it will employ subtler methods, like spies or diplomatic persuasion.  Opponent nations will ally with powerful neighbours and wait until get yourself embroiled in a war, cut military funding or reduce the size of your forces before deciding to go for your jugular.  Friendly nations will sucker you into an alliance, and then promptly declare war on their hated enemy whose army is twice as big as yours.  The AI is a much cagier, craftier beast in the latest iteration of the game.

The game is no longer script-driven, and after selecting your historically-derived starting point, the game evolves dynamically.  You won’t always see the same countries experiencing the same revolutions on the same dates; it all depends on what is happening locally in that country (or province).  Monarchs (and their skills) are also dynamic, and do not follow the historical record.  There are also other nice features, like royal advisors, who add bonuses to your nation’s capabilities or research.  And facilities that can be built in each province, which increase trade, tax revenue or population-related stats like manpower and happiness/stability.  There is a military tradition system which improves (or degrades) the quality of generals/conquistadors and and admirals/explorers you can recruit; the more land or naval battles you fight, the greater your land or naval tradition.  But this tradition degrades over time, so if you don’t fight that often, your tradition will remain low (and so will the quality of your leaders!).

The only downside to the game is that the scope is a little smaller; there are still hundreds of nations to play, but you have less time in which to play them.  EU3′s timeframe runs from the Fall of Constantinople in 1453 to the Revolutionary Era in 1793 (although I understand an add-on is being developed to extend the timeframe into the early 19th century Napoleonic Wars).

One interesting aspect of the game is that a lot of players like to write after-action reports (or AARs), little mini-histories of their nations as the game progresses.  I’m going to do the same here for my game as England, including some self-generated goals and limitations (to make the game mechanics less “gamey” and more like actual policy decisions
that would be carried out by real live human beings).

Objectives:

• Annex Scotland and Ireland to form Great Britain.
• Take and hold Jerusalem and Lebanon.
• Guarantee the independence of the Papal States and the failed crusader
  state of the Knights of Rhodes (until the Reformation, if there is one).
• Guarantee the independence of the Duchy of Athens (someone has to buy the Elgin Marbles!).
• Seek the independence and unification of the Netherlands.
• Control much of the territory of the historic British Empire, appropriate to its holdings in 1793, by the end date.

Limitations:

• No province in the British Isles may be gained by military annexation, only by vassalship and diplomatic annexation (hopefully the Scots and Irish won’t be as resentful, then).
• Never surrender Calais, and strive to retain all Continental French holdings.
• No native/pagan states (Incas, Mayas, Aztecs, North American First
  Nations) are to be annexed in a war of aggression.  Still undecided if
  I will permit annexation as the result of a native-initiated war, but leaning against it.
• Do not colonise any province where the primary economic output is slaves.

I’m using a couple of user-created add-ons for extra flavour and visual effects.  The Magna Mundi IV mod adds an lot of historical flavour and gameplay balance to the dynamically-generated events, and the Theatrum Orbis Terrarum mod makes the game’s playing map resemble those old 15th century parchment maps.

So without further adieu, here we go.

England’s position in May of 1453 is somewhat lacklustre.  At home, a minor rebellion is underway in Wessex.  On the Continent, Henry VI has managed to lose most of his father’s gains in France; all that remains are Calais and Gascogne.  France and her vassal Brittany are determined to oust the war-weary and vastly outnumbered English garrisons from the Continent.  Henry knows his army of 8,000 soldiers and 4,000 knights will be annihilated if they engage the large French force of 29,000 men marching for Gascogne; their only hope for survival is to stay out of reach.  Henry and his advisors concoct a bold plan to neutralise Brittany and regain England’s ancestral Gascon and Norman holdings.

The English-Armagnac War

The royal treasury secures a loan from foreign creditors, and on June 1st, 1453, English diplomats buy peace with Brittany for a few hundred ducats.  At the same time the Guyenne Detachment under General John Neville is ordered to avoid contact with the massive French army and move south into the county of Armagnac, another French vassal.  The English crown has maintained a claim on Armagnac since the time of Eleanor of Aquitaine’s marriage to Henry II of England, centuries before.

English diplomats deliver Henry’s declaration of war to Jean V, Count of Armagnac; English ally Portugal also declares war but declines to send troops.  On June 4, 1453, the English and Armagnac armies clash.  England, remarkably, sustains zero casualties, while Jean V and his small army of 1,000 souls are annihilated to the last man. Armagnac forts are besieged and captured in short order; by July 3 the county is formally annexed and added to England’s Gascon possessions.

The War of English Aggression

The Anglo-Gascon force now eyes another French vassal (and former English possession), the county of Foix (Béarn).  On July 7, Henry VI declares war on Foix, and the Guyenne garrison resumes its march.  By August 16th, Neville’s 12,000-strong army corners 2,000 defenders under Gaston IV, Count of Foix.  English losses number 211 souls, while Gaston and his army are completely destroyed.  Neville assaults Béarn’s castles, and on August 29, 1453, the conquered county is united with the English crown.  The whole of ancient Gascony is English once more.

The War of Leinster Aggression

To help keep things quiet closer to home, Henry VI casts about for alliance partners in June of 1453.  Envoys are dispatched to the Irish lords of Ulster, Connaught and Leinster, and soon Donal VIII of Leinster agrees to a military alliance.  But as soon as crafty Donal
has the treaty in hand, he declares war on neighboring Munster.  The English court is aghast;  the alliance was supposed to secure peace and stability, not drag England into another war it can hardly afford!  The bulk of the nation’s territorial armies are devoted to the fighting in France; only a small 4,000-man garrison remains at home, suppressing the Wessex rebellion.

On June 2nd, 1453, Henry reluctantly declares war on Munster—but allocates no ships nor men to the war effort.  The English court keenly waits to see if Leinster’s small 2,000-soldier army will take on the equally-matched 2,000 souls of Munster’s army.  But wily Donal stays put and refuses to budge unless English soldiers are also present for the invasion.  Henry’s sensible advisors would rather throw all available troops at the war in France, but the King rules that England’s treaty obligations—especially unpleasant, unexpected ones—must be met.

Two months later, a fleet of English cogs appear off Cork, unloading 4,000 knights and soldiers.  On August 14th, the 6,000 men of the Anglo-Irish army meet Munster’s 2,000 troops in battle, inflicting serious casualties.  The English lose 326 men, while Munster loses
1,404.  The remaining Munster forces retreat into neighboring Connaught to regroup, but do not see action again.  The province remains under Anglo-Irish occupation until November 2nd, when Munster’s surviving nobles agree to become vassals and swear fealty to the English crown.

The Hundred Years War – Fourth Phase

While Neville’s Guyenne Detchment is busy conquering Armagnac and Béarn, an enormous 29,000-man French force marches out of Toulouse.  It proceeds northwest through Périgord and Saintonge, leaving small 2-3,000 man garrisons behind, before finally sweeping south into English-held Gascogne.  In July, with the bulk of the English forces fighting elsewhere, the 22,000 French defeat a hastily assembled defensive force of 8,000 mercenaries—but at a significant cost.  While 1,244 mercenaries die, they manage to inflict 2302 French casualties during the retreat, and the timid French commander doesn’t seek battle again for nearly five months.

England, meanwhile, seeks more foreign loans and hires another 5,000 mercenaries for the invasion of Normandy.  While crossing the Channel, the English transport fleet of lightly-armed cogs spots a French force of two carracks and two cogs—the entirety of French naval forces in the Channel.  The heavily-loaded English cogs give chase, and—miracle of miracles—send all save one French carrack to the bottom.  The English forces reach Normandy and begin sieging major fortifications in the province; France now has a two-front war on its hands.

In late October, Neville’s combined regular/mercenary force does the impossible and dislodges the 22,000 French from Gascogne.  The English suffer a staggering 4,400 casualties, but French losses number over 8,900.  Several small 2,000-man French garrisons from surrounding provinces attempt to assault Gascogne, and succeed only in obliterating themselves.

Back in London, Henry VI passes away on February 2nd, 1454, at the age of thirty-two.  He is succeeded by Mary I, an heir who surpasses all his monarchical abilities—administrative, diplomatic and military.  Queen Mary pursues the war in France with extraordinary vigour; the 4,000-man Anglo-Irish invasion force is landed at Rouen, putting the province of Caux under siege.  Over the following eleven months, the Anglo-Gascon armies in the south of France amass a series of stunning victories.  A half-dozen smaller French armies are completely wiped out, Toulouse is occupied and Saintonge put under siege.  Things are looking bleak for the armies of France.

In 1455, French resistance crumbles completely in the south.  The King of France, Charles VII, is killed (along with two-thirds of his knights and men) in battle against John Neville’s Anglo-Gascon army.  Charles is succeeded by his ineffectual heir, Henri II, who has little interest in affairs of state or the military arts.  English forces occupy Périgord, Rouergue, Languedoc and and Saintonge.  France’s vassals sense the imminent collapse of the state, and move to side themselves with the ascendant English.  One vassal, Auvergne, even permits English armies to pursue and engage retreating French soldiers across its own territory!

Near the end of the year, messengers present England’s demands to the French court: the return of Normandy and Caux, and the renunciation of French claims on Calais, Gascogne, Armagnac and Béarn.  They are rebuffed brusquely.  In retaliation, Mary orders the destruction of two more French armies in Lyonnais and Dauphiné, and the siege of those provinces.  Orders are dispatched to the English commanders sieging Normandy and Caux: when those provinces fall, march on Île-de-France and seize its crown jewel, Paris.

On February 19th, 1456, Mary’s final messenger arrives at the French court.  The demands remain the same: surrender Normandy and Caux to England, and renounce France’s claims on Calais, Gascogne, Armagnac and Béarn.  His armies and subjects exhausted, Henri sees little choice but to accept; better to lose two provinces than the whole of France.

England may have won the war, but now it faces massive war debt and rising inflation.

To see all installments of this Europa Universalis 3 AAR (after-action report), visit these posts:

1453-1456 Imperial Adventures
1453-1465 Imperatrix Romanorum Electus
1465-1479 Non Semper Erit Aestas
1479-1489 Graecia Capta Ferum Victorem Cepit