- ARCHIVE - Royal Court of Portugal

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A priest from the Holy Roman Empire delivers a letter:

"Noble King,

we have recently procured scryptures of the ill-begotten Musulman. Yet they are written in tongues foreign to our German scholars. Would you kindly send with Father Otto a translator skilled in Latin, German and especially the twisted tongue of the infidel? We would be very grateful.

In exhange, Father Otto brings with him some of the finest maps of the Roman Empire all the way to the Tatar tribes of the Rus, to placate your desire for geographical knowledge.

May all your efforst in exploration be blessed so that you might spread the Word of Christ. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost,

Johann II., Archbishop of Wurzburg"

 

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Dom Affonso returns from the meetings in Calis, he is to be consulting his advisers and nobles on the crusade. He first addresses the consultents at the court.

Good sir, you surely must be aware of my brother's celibecy as he is the govenor of the Ordem de Christo. I shall send my younger brother Joao if you would like me too? Although he is a bit loud and agressive, but he needs a good wife to tame him so.

<he then turns to the priest and smiles>

Your grace, I shall send word to my priests and see if I can have any ready.

He then returns to his military advisers and sends a few letters.

 

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D. Affonso rises from his throne in excitement over the decree he recieved from the Papal States. He smiles like a little boy and lets out a loud laugh.

Hahaha!Now with our holiness backing us and soon the rest of our brothers in faith, we shall push these heathen scum from wrench they came! Come! Prepare my horse and my armour. I shall ride into Constantinople myself to liberate it for my good Pope! Tell my brother to quickly prepare the Navy and the Ordem de Christo, we are in crusade once again! God bless our Church and God bless Portugal!

D. Affonso seems very pleased and immediately dashes off to prepare his Crusading duties. The Royal court is most pleased. They see this as an oppurtunity to gain Church favor, and expand Portugal's Holy Inquistion. All the nation shall be most pleased by the Crusade.

 

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A letter from Rome

D. Affonso Avis IV de Reino real de Portugal

Good sir, and loyal son of the church,

It is not my intent to wage war upon our heretical eastern brothers, but to try to join the schism that separates us. We appreciate your fervour but ask that you look to the threat of this "Jihad" that has been called against our most holy church.

With love and by his own hand.

 

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A letter arrives for Cardinal Alvaro

It's marked private and bares the papal seal

 

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At Cape Bojador

The winds blew the Carevels back and forth. The were steered of course. Westward they went, and more west. They sat like sitting ducks, hoping to fight these strong currents. The wind blew fierce, and it was raining quite a lot. Amazingly the Caravels endured the strong weather and currents. Admiral Gil de Eannes was frightful, that this was the will of God almighty telling them to turn back. The Cape was the end of the world as foretold in the book of Genesis. The men held together, and their ships. However, all were frightful of God's wrath but most of all his warning to turn back. Admiral Gil de Eannes had no choice he must turn back, for the power of the currents and weather was too strong for their naval skills. The ships steered back, going to the Canary Islands and from their back to Sagres.

 

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A letter arrives in Bremen, adressed to cardinal Alvaro.


Cardinal Alvaro, brother in Christ.
I thank you for your letter. It was a happy day when I heard that the Holy Mother Church, whom I love with all my heart, decided to punish Johann for his crimes against God Allmighty.
As you have undoubtly uncovered by now, jews walk the streets of Bremen unhindered. These foul creatures killed Lord Christ, and for this terrible crime deserve any punishment possible.
However, Duke Johann III, as his father before him, does not only allow the heretics to walk free, he also orders his soldiers to protect the heretics against those faithfull Bremers who wish to punish them for their old crimes.

As you wrote in you letter, Silke Küster threathened to imprison me. Worried as I was for every soul in my herd, I refused to crown Johann III, and thus condemn him to the fires of Hell for ruling on Earth what should be ruled by the Church. However, when I saw the stubborness with which both son and mother pursued their own greed, without regards to the will of the Lord, I had no option but to give in to them.

It is my hope that God does indeed se it fit to punish the heretic duke for his crimes, and I pray for your succes.

By his own hand
Horst Töllnich
Archbishop of Bremen.

 

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At Lisboa Docking Bay

D. Affonso Avis IV de Reino real de Portugal, stands tall in all his majesty and armour. He prepares for battle with the heretic. The weather at Lisboa, was foggy, windy, and full of mist. Yet dispite the dreadful weather, the navies were being boarded with troops and preparing their invasion Eastward. There was much noises and sounds to be heard at this busy day. The sounds of drunken sailors. The sounds of Priests and Admirals, with their envoys. The sounds of supplies, being brought, and carried to the large ships. Troops, from all ranks, peasent folk looking for wealth and piety, to the Elite forces of Ordem de Christo. Woman, were present, and you could here them shouting and whining to thier men, and wanting to leave with them. Kids running up and down the harbor in glee as if it were game. Smuglers and bandits, raided the ships, and supplies for their own good, with the lack of supervision and law enforcement. The King and his trusting nobility stand tall, inspecting, and arranging the mass department. Guns and new Artillery were all applied aboard the mighty vessals. The sky rang with sounds of hoves and livestock. Crosses, banners, and flags from all Duchies, Comties, and Diocese in Portugal were everywhere. Merchants were in the harbor, taking advantage of the mass loading of troops, and there sell their merchendise to the sending families and boarding troops. Priests stand side by side with the merchants and sell indulgences to the pious populace of Lisboa, and of Portugal as a whole. The harbor was huge! Yet still not enough room for all the hustle and bustle of the inflated city. Prostetutes and other Gypsy runnaways, sneaked aboard the ships as well. The Church bells rang loud, and all of Portugal was gathering at this one vocal spot. The King in all his majesty stands at the forefront, of the mighty Sao Jorge and all is silenced before him, as he makes his dashing, moral boasting, and rather enjoyable speach.

My people, enough with the formalities today.

<his face turns to a grin and streches across his cheeky pose>
Surely you have heard of the laughable looks of those silly Mongols. I hope you do not fret when you see their pale skin and squinty eyes. Sure, they are civilized right? I mean they eat with their hands and face as a pig at the troaf. They lop off each other's heads when in disagreement. These are civilized beings right? I know, especially when they have multiple whores, and "playful" sons.
<Everyone laughs loud at all the jokes and insults of the Mongols, surely they are silly folk>

<in a more serious, deep, and aggresive tone of voice>
Now! Let us do battle at these barabaric scum for God! For Christ! For Portugal!

The crowds raise their banners, flags, shields, guns, bows, swords, sticks, and all else they could do to symbolize their fellowship. They all begin to shout.

Long Live Affonso the Pious!

They shout it 6 times, and then in a rush quickly, prepare as best they can for war agianst the heathen. Women, children, knights, jesters, priests, nobles, and the King all board the ships and get ready for another grand crusade!

 

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At Sagres...

The vessels bruised and beaten by storm and wind, trudge into the harbor of Sagres. A whole ship was solely to carry the dead. Prince Henrique watching the ships return with glee, and excitement. Hoping it has achieved his long goal. Sir Gil de Eannes walks off the main vessel, and bows before the happy Prince, the Prince suspects something not right, but still smiles. Gil then takes off his cap and tells Prince Henrique.

Your highness...forgive me for we have not the courage to cross the hellish cape...God gave us a sign by pounding us with storms and death...please forgive me.

Prince Henrique throws his hat on the sandy beach. He looks at Gil and is most upset. He is red with anger. He yells at Gil.

FOOL! GET IN THE ACADEMY! I WANT TO SCOLD YOU ALL AT ONCE!

Gil and the other sailors, and priests slowly crawled back into his academy. There the door slammed shut and he adresses the men assembled in a loud, but more leveled tone of voice.

You all are cowards! We train for two more months, and as soon as ship repairs are completed, you all sail once more! Ughhhh!!!

A perfectionist, Prince Henrique leaves them with other members of the Ordem de Christo under strict discipline and training for punishment.

 

[driftwood]

"Do you think Portugal's respect for your fine, cultured bearing extends to not attacking you?" Ishak asked with a snicker upon hearing the letter.

"No," Murad replied with a smile, "I don't think it extends quite that far. But it *is* remarkable that they've heard of Constantinople even up in Scandinavia."

 

[driftwood]

The Greek merchant returns with a note:

"King of Portugal,

Normally, I would be delighted to exchange maps with you, for I have a great curiousity about far-off lands. However, seeing as how you are likely to besiege my cities and slaughter my peasants soon, I feel it is not appropriate to exchange in such pleasantries.

In hopes of more peaceful times,
Sultan Murad II"

 

[Gabriel Anthony]

Guernieri Tommaso

Guernieri Tommaso enters the Royal Court of Lisbon.



Your,,errr,,Majesty. I am Guernieri Tommaso and I belive to have been assigned to this court by his Eminence the Doge of Venezia, thats um the Duke for those of you which may or not know

I wonder what kind of food these people eat,,

As I was saying, I am representing Venetian interests here is Lisbon, and I suppose this is as good as place as any to address all concerns in Iberia which my Doge may have. I trust you adequate quarters prepared for me ? Very good. Now to eat.

Tommaso turns to the nearest youngster and demands his way to the most important room in complex, the banquet hall naturally,,,

 

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At the Lateran

"Ahhh..... welcome Cardinal de Borja..... Eminances"

He nods to them.

He reads the notes humming to himself with the ocational "Ahha"

"Thank you for this evidence"

He then turns to Cardinal Alvaro

"I was in reciept of a map recently. It had the word Sewdan or some such. Some say Noobie err."

"I intend to find out if any knowledge of the word of god resides there and if so any word of Prester John."

"Would you like to have your nation lead the expedition? We should be able to travel through the Mamalukes safely now"

 

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At Constantinople...

D. Affonso IV from the far lands of Portugal had claimed a victory for God and for Portugal on this day. He marches on his stead into the once glorious and energetic metropolis of Constantinople. Now he had seen the glorious city in the books and lectures in Lisboa...however...it was desolent. Empty, and the people were far from energetic...torn by war and emptiness the rather shocked King, from far away lands, looked in shock at the destruction and chaos.

He turned to his commanding officers and instructed them to meet with the Sultan of the Ottomans on negotiation matters. He took his army and searched the area for remaining Mongolian forces to execute. The populace was taken into the Portuguese camps for questioning and hospitality. The banners of Portugal reigned high in the air, as well as the Papal Coat of Arms. The Ships were at the docks, for needing repairs and aftermath loading. The armies were looting and pillaging the already devestating areas. They took gold artifacts, and sacred mosaics. Robbed the populace of the little they already held dear. Of course without permission from his majesty...

Now the time has come, the crusade has come to a close. Portugal has gloried in the bask of God's grace, and the Holy Apostolic Church. They have done their duties here on Earth, and will return to Portugal with riches and good piety. He looks to a young page and simply says in a soft tone of voice:

Now, the Mongols have been eliminated, and perhaps they shall learn their lesson good.

He turns to the crowd and gives a very simple and clear Victory Speach.

Well, let us celebrate.

With that everyone cheered and ran looting and pillaging.

The King then takes to talk with the Ottoman Sultan on private manners...

 

[driftwood]

The Sultan and the King meet aboard a Portuguese vessel floating in the Sea of Marmara, above the Hellespont. The hulking Ottoman fortress of Hisar Rumeli is just visible in the northern distance. The Portuguese fleet warily floats nearby, while the smaller Turkish fleet is not far off.

Murad walks forward carefully. Although he has gotten much better at being on a ship, he doesn't think he'll ever acquire a full set of sea legs.

"Your majesty," he says in Greek, which an interpreter translates into Latin, "welcome to my sea."

"Your sea?" Affonso says with a laugh. "I see Portuguese and Papal pennants flying from the rubble where Constantinople used to be. Those looked like Venetian chateaux which were burnt by the Mongols in Smyrna and Ephesus. And I think I count a few more Portuguese ships than Ottoman ones."

Murad returns the smile. "All true. But God has given this land to the Turks - it has been our destiny to rule here and none have been able to give us more than pause since Orhan Bey first led his troops to Gallipolli. The rest," he waves his hand dismissively, "is simply details."

"Look around you." He sweeps his hand dramatically in a circle. "Have you ever seen a fairer land?" Affonso had to admit that, if not for the smoke still rising from Constantinople, the autumnal scene would have been quite impressive.

"Are the Mongols a detail?" Affonso asked pointedly. "As long as they are in these lands, the ones which you claim, there can be no peace."

Murad shook his head. "I believe the Mongols will go home. They are done with Constantinople and have more pressing concerns than trying to rule Smyrna."

Affonso nodded, eyes thoughtful. "And Constantinople, the great prize, looks little better than Jericho after Joshua's circuit. Or perhaps Sodom would be more apt." His mouth twitched. "Your goal has turned to ash - what would you do with it?"

"The City endures," Murad disagreed. "As long as a bit of wall, or a single dock, still stand. In all truth, Constantinople's soul had already been razed by centuries of defeat. The only surprise is that the population had not been allowed to starve some years ago. No," he shook his head, "we will rebuild what we can and create anew what we cannot."

Affonso remained silent for a long moment. "Perhaps an agreement can be reached."

 

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At Constantinople...

D. Affonso IV, looks at the Ottoman. He is slighty amazed by his dignity, and impressed at his confidence. He laughs loudly, and then shakes the Ottoman's hand very firmly, and pats him on the back, as if he were a noble King in Iberia.

Aha! It is a pleasure to meet with you at long last good King of Anatolia. Let us make peace in these lands. Please, come into my personal tent, where we could converse, in a more, how should I put this....splendid enviroment haha!

The happy King signals the Ottoman, whom is somewhat puzzled at the happiness the King has. Murad returns a smile to comfort the mood, and then follows the King and his elite guards, with him, into his tent, in the amiss of Constantinople.

Now, Murad, may I call you such? Let us discuss the future of Anatolia, and Constantinople. I propose such conditions as simple as this. Portugal will take its victorious foces home to Lisboa, victorious, and prosperous. I shall take a piece of Constantinople with me home, to elaborate my fine palace there, and symbolize this holy crusade, and win for Portugal for all time. You may have jurisdiction and protection over the once glorious city of Constantinople, with your ambition to make it great once more. You can assure the freedom of Catholics in your good lands. With this, the Mongols shall be forced to live forever on the barren and desolent steppes for all time, never again to wreak havoc upon Christianity, nor Islam. As for Venice, Portugal has no interest in what you may do in the future. For Portugal, we would enjoy to have Asian commodities and fair trade. In the conditions for post-war, I would like of your fair nation, to allow Portuguese merchants the same benefits as Turkish in your Markets. This is my only request from this victory, for Portugal. Please, tell me Murad, what say you?

Affonso pours some fine whine for Murad, and himself. He smiles and waits for the Sultan to answer.

 

[driftwood]

Murad looked about the tent. "Quite nice, although you should see the tents which my nomadic subjects use. Three times as large, they are cooler during the autumn days and warmer during the autumn nights. I will give you one as a gift, for use in your next campaign."

Just then, a nervous-looking page enters and hands a note to the Sultan. The Sultan scans the ciphered script quickly.

"Well, your Majesty, I would be happy to grant the Portuguese privileges in the Ottoman lands, but your Kingpriest has decreed otherwise:"

Originally posted by Rebelodicus
"It has been made clear that the Holy land is an issue that needs careful consideration. We need another resident in the area ensuring the safety of Judea and her satellites. I have chosen them. Trade will even be allowed with them. but trade with ANY other Muslim nation (Unless approved) is hereby marked as blasphemy in the eyes of the church if it continues "

He raises his hands, as if to say it is not his fault.

"As to the rest, I think that is easily enough arranged. In all likelihood, the Mongols would remain in Thrace for the duration of the war; however, immediately afterwards the territory could be transferred." He smiles again. "I hope that is acceptable."

 

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At Constantinople...

King Affonso reads the decree, and blinks widely. He passes it aside to his page. Then he takes a sip of whine. Wipes his face, and then begins to converse with the Sultan, with a smile.

Murad, now we all know that this is a victory for Portugal as well. I am sure his holliness will allow us anullment with this decree, so we may go ahead and draft a treaty. Let us go in peace, as this war is making me tired, and seems rather stretched. So much bloodshed...well, it was neccesarry anyway. Oops! Sorry, I didn't mean to run off there, please forgive me.

Haha! Anyways, I fear I may be too drunk to forge a treaty, and you are a poet, so it should come natural. Please, forge a treaty that includes what we have discussed here today.

I need another drink haha! Page! Bring some fine whine here!

A sheet was left for Murad's eyes, from the King. It listed the things they discussed.

 

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A crowd of sea-farring merchants gather round the docks of Lisboa, as bodies are brought in from the seas. Among them was the body of the Regent Richard of England. As he is brought to shore, the crowd gathers round. Then the Count of Paço de Arcos pushes through, and speaks with the surviving two. They tell of a storm that hit, a sudden bolt of lightning, and lots of screaming. The Count swiftly brought them for safety at Sao Jorge Castello...

 

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At Sagres...

Prince Henrique has finished up the last of his training exercises for his prospecting crew. He raises his hand, and slams it firmly on the table, in front of all. He then points to the Sahara. And simply says.

Gentleman, this is where you are heading. Do not lose sight of the goal.

Just then, a Priest rushes into the room from Roma. He bows and hands a letter with a few maps to the puzzled Prince. The prince swipes the materials from him in a fury almost. The Priest rests. Then Prince Henrique looked to his crew, and gave out a loud scream, but a big reasurring smile afterwards.

Men, I have recieved word from his holiness, that he has chosen me, the leader of Ordem de Christo, to lead in this expedition for Prestor John. It seems to me...this land....is somewhere beyond Egypt...I will have to breach.....hmm.....well, in the meantime nothing has changed for you. You will remain on your trip, and will return with evidence of your success, correct Sir Gill? Now, I must arrange a seperate team for this ehh....Nubia.

He wavers his hands, and the clases are dismmissed, then he retires to his court, to compromise a team for the new and most exciting expedition.