III.
Now, where was I? Oh yes. That war with France. Let me see. My enemies have mustered almost 90,000 men. We have a grand total of 14,000. But let’s not panic, as there is some good news too: almost all of those are ours. Yes sir. England has a staggering army count of 2,000 men.
So. With the English economy still in tatters after the Hundred Years War and our own realm plagued by noble opposition, I should probably say something to inspire the men. Something Churchill-esque. Something like “arm yourselves and be ye men of valour.” Yes, that would do. Or maybe “we shall fight on the seas and oceans.” Indeed. We shall not, I hope, fight on the beaches, the landing grounds, or the fields. Anyway, if the enemy doesn’t get military access though Iberia – and let’s pray for that – all I need to do to fend off invasions, is watch and destroy approaching ships. Simple. The more so because my alliance with Aragon allows me to see into the Mediterranean. Brilliant.
When the war starts, my entire fleet lies anchored in the port of Madeira. I hire an admiral, Garcia da Fonseca (1 fire, 2 manoeuvre – not exactly gifted, but let’s not be fickle) and set sail to the Gulf of Cadiz, where I immediately intercept and destroy two French carracks. To gain sea superiority, I order the construction of three more ships. In March, after some minor battles with small contingents of French and Scottish fleets, I capture my first enemy boat, the carrack La Victoire. Then I spot a large French transport fleet, commanded by Gaston du Fournay, apparently sailing to the unprotected Azores with a small army. Before I can engage them, however, I am attacked by a Norvegian flotilla led by Tollak Torsson. I drive them off, pursue and finally destroy them near Finisterre Bay. In the homeland, meanwhile, my new king has to deal with yet another rebel uprising in Algarve. Now, where did that Fourniret chap go?
There he is. The French dog has disembarked his troops on Madeira and is already on his way back. Spiteful, I confront the culprit before the coast of Morocco.
Fournay is clearly the better admiral, so it is only by strength of numbers that I am able to sink one of his carracks and five of his transports, while capturing one cog. Before I can ship a relief force to Madeira, my inbound fleet is attacked in the Gulf of Cadiz by another French admiral, Simon de Caumartin. I defeat him, capturing another cog. When the newly constructed vessels sail out of my shipyards, the Portuguese Armada totals sixteen ships: ten carracks and six cogs. Somebody stop me!
In the following months, after breaking the siege of Madeira, there is a temporary lull in hostilities. My funds are rapidly dwindling though, and disbanding any of my ships would be rather silly. The situation becomes acute when the Barbary pirates attack Porto and I don’t have another dime to spend. There is some good news too, however: Norway and Scotland have signed a truce.
Then the odds turn again. In October 1462, an enemy army of more than 12,000 men, led by Philippe I of Orleans, lays siege to the fortress of Bragança in northern Portugal. No love from the Canary-Coloured-Kingdom. I guess this is Henrique’s moment to rise and shine. So I send him north, at the head of the 6,000 strong Iberian Guard, to confront Philippe. The kings clash in November. Needless to say, the battle opens rather ominously. I take a loan, hastily recruit some mercenaries and send them on their way to reinforce Henrique.
Then the strangest thing happens...
… but it is not Henrique’s army that retreats. Instead, the French coalition army withdraws into Castile. The battle has been broken off, but why? Divine intervention? Metal fatigue? Fleas? Or was it the simple fact that Lorraine signed a truce with England? In any case, the regiment of Lorraine starts to march home, soon followed by the troops of Orleans and Auvergne. Before I can breathe a sigh of relief, the remaining troops of Provence attack. They are defeated in a bloody battle, and a few days later the last rebel nobles in Portugal surrender. Henrique is finally acknowledged as the legitimate heir to the throne.
In January 1463, a Milanese army arrives in Bragança. Simultaneously some English reinforcements reach our shores.
Yes, they like to watch. My Iberian Guard, more confident than before, defeats the Milanese invaders and wins two more (minor) battles against Provence and Orleans.
In October, we receive word that our newly built fortress on the Azores is besieged by the French, but before I can set sail, England and France declare a white peace. Ha, just when I was starting to enjoy myself.
Even though the strange happenings in Bragança almost made a believer out of me, I embrace secular humanism a few months later. Behold, the dawn of the Renaissance Man.
The following year, some chaps with maps require my attention.
Obviously I say no to Timbuktu. After all, we want real riches, not fabled ones.
Timbuktu has a rather ridiculous ring to it, anyway…