Chapter 26, part 1: The War of Retribution
2 June, 1588, Balcony of the Castle St. Maso, Rome
The new Emperor of Tuscany, Leo III, was unlike any Emperor before. He'd had a real role in ruling the Empire from Constantinople, and was perhaps the best prepared of all the Emperors of Tuscany to deal with the crisis at hand. His father, Francis I, had been assassinated by the hand of a Castillian. His people were both grieving and demanding vengeance, as indeed he was. However, he could not declare war on one of the most powerful Christian kingdoms without serious thought and preparation. His first speech needed to do two things: reassure the crowd that the slight would not be forgotten and restore order.
"Citizens of the Empire of Tuscany, I only wish I could address you under different circumstances. I am aware that Francis I was not just my father, but in a very real sense, your father as well. It is a tragedy for the entire nation. I have been deeply moved by the outpouring of support from each and every one of you; they have aided me greatly in my time of need.
"Let me assure you, first of all, that your daily lives will be the same under me as they were under my father. Foundries will continue to smelt metal, farms will continue to produce food, banks will continue to lend money, and nobles will continue to serve their people. Nothing will change. I have proclaimed today and tomorrow a day of mourning; however, we must not show weakness in a time of adversity. My father valued tradition over all else; we must show him the same respect, even as he has passed on to his reward.
"Of course, this tragedy was no accident. Many of you have heard the rumors that the Emperor's assassin was from Castille. I understand and sympathize with your anger, but we must conduct a thorough investigation. We cannot make a rash decision in our time of great emotion and passion. I do, however, guarantee that those responsible shall not evade justice, whether they are individuals acting alone or soldiers supported by a foreign enemy. We will bide our time, and when the people of Tuscany strike at our enemies, it shall be as God's own thunderbolt! Life can and must go on, but for the enemies of the people, it will not go on for much longer. Glory to Francis I and the Empire of Tuscany!"
The applause was faint, but Leo III did not take offense; many were still coming to terms with a new Emperor with little or no warning. Day of mourning or not, Leo III still had work to do, and now addressed a meeting of the Imperial Council.
"My lords, we have jobs to do. I am making no major changes to our most important offices. I have been very pleased with the work of Chancellor Gathenhielm, Marshal van Dijk, and Foreign Minister Barberini and see no need to replace them. All of you have my complete confidence and I look forward to working with each of you in private. I do have two new appointees, however. Until my son, Pietro Leopoldo, is old enough to rule in Constantinople, I am appointing Julius Tullius Cicero his Regent there. He was a tremendous help to me during my rule there, and I have no doubt he will do the same for my son.
"The other new office will be Inspector-General of the Empire. Somehow, one of our enemies penetrated the most supposedly secure part of our Empire; the capital. The Inspector-General will not only be in charge of the investigation into the assassination, but will have
carte blanche to do whatever he needs to ensure that security is restored. He will have the military rank of Colonel, and will also be responsible for the Guards regiment in the Imperial Palace as well. This office, I hope, will only be temporary, but I fear it may become permanent.
"For this office, I am appointing the Archduke of Africa, Drusus Germanicus."
This was completely unexpected by everyone present, most of all Drusus. He'd never quite gotten along with Francis I, and had been threatened with jail multiple times for his outspoken opposition to the Emperor's elimination of the Senate. While he participated in the ceremony shortly before the Emperor's death, he was decidedly unenthusiastic. He knew he might lose his patent of nobility if he defied the will of the Emperor and his fellow nobles, and his family's honor would be forever tarnished, so he kept his peace.
The Emperor addressed Drusus. "My friend, I know you and my father were not the best of friends. That is, if anything, an understatement. However, it is your candor and integrity that I need most. You are the only one I can trust with the authority to do what must be done. You are reluctant to accept, I know, and it is for that reason that you are the only one qualified. I expect the truth, and I can count on you to give it to me, whether I would like the answer or not.
"I do wish to make something very clear, however. I believe my father was right to abolish the Imperial Senate and I cannot and will not reverse his decision, nor will any of my successors. A republic is fine for Venice, a small island nation. It is not appropriate for a mighty Empire such as ours, and I will not tolerate republican sentiment. Republicanism, in any form, is treason. I will not hesitate to imprison or, if necessary, execute, anybody who openly foments rebellion or revolution in my Empire. Do you understand?"
Drusus hesitated for just a moment. The responsibility he'd been given was awesome, and he could very easily control the investigation and eliminate a political enemy, if he so chose. He knew that he himself might be considered a prime suspect if he weren't just landing in Rome at the time of the assassination. The Emperor was already dead when his ship docked. If he accepted the assignment, he would once and for all be forced to renounce republicanism, one of his dearest principles.
As if the Emperor sensed the internal struggle, he made one last point. "I know you are a man of conviction, of courage, and of principle. You have been devoted to the ideals of republicanism since you came to Rome as your grandfather's successor in the Senate. If you do not accept this assignment, I offer you safe passage, out of the Empire, to any land of your choice, since if you do not accept, I will know your loyalty to your principles exceeds your loyalty to your homeland. What is your answer?"
Drusus had been neatly trapped, and he knew it. Either he was a patriot or a republican, but in the eyes of Leo III, he could not be both. Practically speaking, it wasn't really a choice at all. Exile would probably destroy his family's honor once and for all. His son, named for his great grandfather and grandfather Andreas Gaius Germanicus, was a child, ten years of age, and the scandal would cost him more than it ever would his father. He nodded acceptance.
Leo III was magnanimous in victory, and instead of gloating, shook his new Inspector General's hand. "You will be in Rome until your duties have been effectively discharged; you may wish to appoint a regent until your son is old enough to rule in your stead."
"I would choose Daoud Selim Iskander. He was a close friend of your father's, and I have grown to trust him. He is a foreigner, this is true, but he is a fierce Christian zealot and will do an excellent job."
Leo smiled. "I seem to recall another foreigner who did quite well despite his handicap. Iskander will be acting Archduke of Africa until your safe return. Please remind him that he is not a noble, however. I may consider a patent of nobility for him as a reward, if he does well."
"Very good, Emperor. May I begin my duties at once?"
"Of course, Inspector-General Germanicus."
"Excellent. Then I would begin the investigation with the man who had the most to gain with the death of Francis I.
"You."
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1 April 1590, the Inspector-General's office
Despite his dramatic opening to his investigation, Drusus Germanicus was getting nowhere. Leo III had been taken by surprise, but recovered very quickly. He even congratulated Drusus on his choice of the prime suspect. However, as Marshal van Dijk and Commandant Bartolini verified, he wasn't even in Rome at the time of the assassination -- he was inspecting the Germanicus Academy for the Imperial Legions. Since there was a graduation of about 100 officers, there were plenty of corroborating witnesses.
He interrogated each one of the guards, but expected little from that as well. The Emperor had dismissed the guards to discuss something in secret with an important visitor, and all of them were in the guard barracks. This mysterious visitor seemed to be the key, but nobody could identify him (or her, Germanicus thought with disquiet). He'd accounted for the whereabouts of every government official in Rome, and none were in or around the palace at the time of the Emperor's murder.
He'd tried to get some answers from the Castillian Ambassador to Tuscany, but like most diplomats, he said a lot without saying anything at all. Foreign Minister Barberini had used some of his agents in the Embassy to try to get an answer, but while the blade was identified positively as Castillian, the steel in Hispania had always been exceptional, and even the Emperor himself boasted a sword made from Spanish steel.
As he grew more and more frustrated, Chancellor Axel Gathenhielm entered his office.
"Good afternoon, Drusus. You look troubled."
Drusus looked up and smiled briefly. "Axel, my old friend, you're absolutely right. With the Castillian ambassador stonewalling me and no real suspects in Rome, I must confess I've got little idea what to do next. What have you been working on?"
Axel showed him the new decree from the Emperor.
"The Emperor wants to stimulate the doctors in Tuscany, and has established greater professional standards. It already seems to be having an effect in Karaman."
Drusus looked puzzled. "Karaman? Why would it first show up there, instead of somewhere in Italy, like Rome?"
Axel chuckled. "Rome may be the center of the Empire, but it isn't the entire Empire, my friend. I imagine the hospitals in Karaman needed more help, so the difference is more notable."
At that, Drusus stared off into the distance. "You're right, Axel. Rome isn't the entire Empire. I've been looking in the wrong damned place!"
There were ships in the harbor that night! Maybe one of them left!, the now-rejuvenated Inspector General thought.
He raced off to see the Emperor, leaving a confused Chancellor in his wake.
However, it remained to be seen whether he could finish his investigation in time.
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4 April 1591, Foreign Minister Barberini's office
Giovanni Barberini wasn't sure what to do. The Emperor had insisted he pursue a new alliance for the coming war with Castille, but he was frankly not sure where to look. The only countries powerful enough to make a difference were France, Austria, Muscovy, and the Ming Dynasty in China. Ming was too far away, France might side with Castille in the coming war, and Austria was certainly in no mood to sign any kind of agreement with Tuscany. That left Muscovy, but all of his attempts were being rebuffed.
At least domestically, things were going on well. New lands were becoming core territories of the Empire: Antalya and Sivas were the latest to become historically Tuscan. The war with the Timurids was going nowhere, quite frankly, because the only Timurid province that still bordered Tuscany was Beirut, and that was being occupied by Castille. Burgundy got Tuscany into a war with Benin, but to be honest, the Emperor had no intentions providing concrete support, so there were two wars, but no soldiers at risk. Perhaps the best kind of wars, Giovanni mused to himself.
A knock at the door announced the arrival of the Ambassador from Muscovy. "Sergei Ivan'ich, how are you this afternoon?"
"Very well, Giovanni. Very well indeed. I have good news for you, my friend."
"Oh?"
"Yes, I have spoken with the Tsar, and he wishes to renew our alliance with you!"
"That is wonderful news indeed. I must speak to the Emperor, naturally, but I have no doubt that I will return with his signature in a matter of hours. Would you like to wait here, or perhaps you'd like to come with me?"
"Here is fine. However, I must ask something rather... sensitive."
At this, Giovanni's mood of jubilation darkened a bit. "Yes, what is it, Sergei?"
"It is rumored you are considering war with Castille over the death of your Emperor. Is this true?"
"I am not a military man, Ambassador, and I do not know what plans they make."
The Ambassador smiled enigmatically. "Of course you don't, Minister. However, I must caution you that it is very unlikely that we will answer a call to arms in such a war. Please convey this to your Emperor as well."
"Might I ask why?"
"You may, but I have no answer -- I was only instructed to give you the warning when I made the offer. I could ask Moscow, but that would take some days. What would you prefer?"
Barberini paused. If he asked for clarification, the Tsar might be offended and retract the offer. If he didn't, the alliance might be a paper one only. He weighed the pros and cons, but realized the most important asset Moscow could provide was keeping France out of the war, whether or not Muscovy actually answered or not.
"No, that is not necessary. I will speak to him at once and return with his answer. I think you will be pleased."
"Very well. I shall anticipate your return with great interest."
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27 July 1591, Castle St. Maso, Rome
Drusus Germanicus was puffing with exertion. He'd just returned the previous night with some startling news, but too late to speak with the Emperor. As soon as he'd woken that morning, he ran as fast as he could to the Imperial palace -- a not-insignificant five miles from his home -- hoping to meet the Emperor before any war was declared.
Marshal Karel van Dijk greeted him outside the Emperor's audience chamber. "Drusus, you look exhausted. Any news on the investigation?"
"Yes, Karel. Could I see the Emperor before you, my friend? I know you are to update him on preparations for our war, but I fear war might be a mistake."
The Marshal was caught off guard. There had been absolutely no sense from any of their letters between one another that he was close to a conclusion for the investigation. "If you think it's that important, by all means you may proceed, but I think you might be better served to wait until I've completed my briefing. Remember his background in military affairs; I think he honestly looks forward more to his morning briefings than his breakfast. You might put him in a foul mood if you preempted me.
Drusus thought for a moment. "We aren't declaring war today, are we?"
The Marshal smiled and shook his head. "I should hope not."
"Then I can wait. Perhaps I could accompany you? I do know the land quite well in Diamentia."
"An excellent suggestion! I would be honored."
As the two entered the room, they found Leo III talking with the Foreign Minister, Giovanni Barberini.
"Drusus! What an unexpected surprise! Are you here to provide some logistical support with your Archduchy or do you have results of the investigation?"
Drusus glanced at the Marshal, who shook his head slightly. "The former, your Imperial Majesty, but I would like to speak with you after your briefing about the investigations."
"Of course, Inspector-General. Everybody, please sit down.
"Giovanni has informed me that Muscovy has not changed their mind. They will not support us in any action against Castille. All of our vassals, Savoy, and Burgundy have all promised their enthusiastic support. We've done all of this as surreptitiously as possible, you understand. No high-level meetings, all the usual tricks."
The Foreign Minister took his cue. "For some reason, the Tsar is convinced he's already at war with somebody else. I fear for his sanity, but of course we cannot antagonize a close friend. I recommend we issue a general call to arms anyway, in hopes he will change his mind." [1]
Drusus Germanicus looked puzzled. "If they are going to say 'no', why even bother? Shouldn't we leave them out of it?"
"No, Drusus. The problem is this. If we don't call Muscovy, they will feel insulted that perhaps they aren't our true allies. If we have to call each power individually, that will take a lot of time, and may cost us in the long run. I'd rather give them the chance to deny us, in all honesty. They almost certainly will, but if worst comes to worst, we can always look elsewhere. I am doubtful France will intervene, even without Muscovite support."
"As you say, Giovanni."
The Emperor was pleased at this exchange. He liked the fact that Drusus felt comfortable enough to question a decision, without being too aggressive about it. His counsel would be invaluable in the coming days.
"Marshal, would you begin the briefing of your latest movements?"
"Of course, Emperor. As Inspector-General Germanicus will verify, a few days ago, two more Legions landed in Diamentia. That gives us 30,000 soldiers there. I've also ordered the Fifth to move south to Hammah; although Mus is better defensively, we have more options in Hammah and can threaten two provinces simultaneously from there. We have one legion each in Tunis and Constantine. I am considering moving a legion closer to the border with Transylvania. As you know, they are staunch allies of Castille and do threaten Constantinople, albeit very indirectly.
"I've appointed two Generals; one will be stationed in Diamentia, the other in Tunis. The commander of the Eastern Theater is General Antonio Butteri. He is a direct descendant of General Eustachio Butterius, one of the Generals during our war with Siena, and the Sheriff Salvestro Butterius. Although his family has dropped the Latinization of their name, they have been loyal soldiers for generations. He will command the Third Legion, the Butterius legion, a symbolically important position, I think.
"The other commander, who will lead the Sixth Legion, is none other than the son of our Commandant, Pietro Bartolini. This is not nepotism; he was at the head of his class and was a legionary commander during our war with Morocco. He is perhaps one of our most experienced desert warfare soldiers."
The Emperor nodded. He knew both names and approved. He was a little antsy, however, wishing he could command himself, but he knew that while his son was underage, the nobles would never allow it. "Their objectives?"
"Bartolini will move East, taking Gabes. I've given Butteri a little more flexibility. Castille's armies have been spotted in his area, and I want him to decide whether he will concentrate or spread out."
"That is a sound plan, Marshal. Anything else I should know?"
The Marshal briefly thought, then shook his head. "No, Emperor. That's all for now. I'm not certain where I will place our fleets yet; at least one will support General Butterius. I will consult with the commanders of each Classis and decide from there."
"Fair enough. Thank you for another excellent briefing. You are dismissed, as are you, Minister Barberini."
Both bowed and departed. Then the Emperor turned to Drusus Germanicus.
"Now, my Inspector-General, you have news for me?"
Drusus swallowed hard. He knew the Emperor wouldn't be happy about what he had to say.
"I do. I've concluded the investigation and found the parties responsible. I don't think you'll be pleased, however."
Leo III frowned. "I see. Was Castille not to blame?"
"A Castillian was most definitely the assassin, Emperor. He was a lieutenant based in Alexandria. I checked the ship manifests and spotted his name immediately. A Juan Carlos Rodriguez. Somebody, it seems, had fed him the information that your father was going to declare war on Castille to reclaim the Holy Land. He decided to act based on that information."
"That is the very best of news, Drusus. Why would you think I would be displeased? Has Castille apologized for this insult?"
"No, your Imperial Majesty, and I'm not altogether certain they should. We were betrayed, Emperor Leo III. A Tuscan citizen was responsible for your father's death.
"Daoud Selim Iskander."
Leo III got very quiet. "Are you certain? How can this be?"
"Your father knew of Daoud's twin passions: making the Holy Land Protestant and liberating Alexandria. What he didn't know was how far Daoud was willing to go to achieve his goals. He'd been operating a terrorist network in Alexandria for years before he became Foreign Minister. At first, it was simple propaganda against the Ottomans and the Mamluks.
"When we didn't take Judea during the war with Morocco, however, he became bitter. I thought he just wanted to return to Egypt when he asked to become Governor of Diamentia. That was certainly true, but he also wanted to re-establish his contacts in Alexandria. One of these contacts provided the information to Lieutenant Rodriguez. In Daoud's defense, I don't think he expected Rodriguez to assassinate Francis I. I think his ultimate goal was to have the Lieutenant -- a well-connected member of the Castillian nobility, by the way -- talk to the King, and perhaps convince them to declare war on us, so we would not appear to be the aggressors.
"When Rodriguez said he refused to go any further with this information until he had confirmation, Daoud had the brilliant idea to have him spy in the Emperor's apartments. Daoud sent a letter to the Emperor, telling him a close friend was going to be in town, and might be able to provide some details on Castillian troop movements. To keep his source protected, Daoud insisted that the Emperor not be present, to make some excuse to sleep elsewhere that night.
"Francis I, as I'm sure you know, Emperor, was never one to delegate important decisions, and while he promised Daoud he wouldn't be present, he lied. He had no intention of letting the Lieutenant plant a note in his chambers, so he dismissed his guards and met with him in person.
"This fit in nicely with Rodriguez's plan. He never intended to talk to the King at all. He hoped by assassinating the Emperor, the plans to invade his home would die with Francis I. He actually wanted to leave a note asking for a private meeting anyway. The Emperor unknowingly obliged him, and well, you know the rest."
The Emperor said nothing for what seemed like an eternity. Drusus could tell he was barely controlling his rage.
"Do you have proof of all of this?"
Drusus nodded. "It was actually Iskander that came forward. I've spending the last while verifying his story, but it all checks out. Juan Carlos Rodriguez killed your father, but without the knowledge of anyone in the government of Castille. That is why I came so early to see you. I do not want to see a war for the wrong reasons, my Emperor."
The Emperor nodded wordlessly. Drusus was hesitant to prod, but there needed to be some kind of decision made, and soon. "What would you have me do now?"
Leo III blinked slowly. "Go speak with the Foreign Minister. I want an ultimatum drafted and delivered to the government of Castille, demanding the extradition of Juan Carlos Rodriguez. I don't care who he's related to. He needs to be punished. Make it very plain that the consequences for noncompliance will be very, very grave.
"As for Iskander, your duties, for now, are complete. I would advise you return to Diamentia and send him to me. I will speak with this... fool and decide what to do from there. Do you have any recommendations?"
Drusus shook his head. "It is you who were wronged, Emperor. You alone can decide his fate, and I will support whatever decision you make."
Leo III nodded. "Your support is most appreciated. You have done very well. I have a new assignment in mind for you, but not until your son is ready to take over in Diamentia. Have a safe journey, and make sure that Barberini knows exactly what he is to say. He is free to consult with me if any clarification is needed."
"Of course, Emperor. Thank you for your time, and I wish I had better news for you."
"So do I, Drusus. So do I."
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11 August 1591, the Foreign Minister's office
Giovanni Barberini found drafting the ultimatum to Castille one of the most difficult documents he'd ever written. It took all of his skill. Still, he'd delivered shortly after meeting with Drusus Germanicus. The response was supposed to have been delivered 1 August. As an ominous reminder that the Empire took this threat seriously, Barberini had just delivered a note to the Embassy again, this time cancelling the Military Access Treaty. The Foreign Minister hoped that this might convince the King of the gravity of the situation, but he seriously doubted Juan Carlos Rodriguez would ever see justice. His spies had already told him that Rodriguez had been deployed to the New World as an administrator in the Castillian colony of Florida.
When he heard the knock at his door, he'd hoped it was the Spanish ambassador. Instead, he found a very pale and trembling Daoud Selim Iskander. Although the Foreign Minister knew exactly what had happened, he nevertheless found it difficult to believe his mentor could have set the events in motion which ended Emperor Francis I's life.
"Daoud, you look like you've seen a ghost. What happened?"
Daoud responded with a catch in his voice, "I'm here to say goodbye, perhaps forever. For my role in the Emperor's death, I am not to be executed or imprisoned. Instead, I am going to become a soldier. I will participate in every action my legion does, and if things seem too dull, I'll be transferred. If I survive the war, I can look forward to never seeing my home again; I am never to leave Rome again, and will have my freedom severely restricted within the city."
Giovanni was torn between sympathy for his friend and the crime he now knew his friend committed. As he was about to speak, Daoud raised his hand and shook his head. "My friend, I am grateful for the opportunity to prove my value to this Empire. I look so frightened because, if the truth be told, I've never been in a battle in my life. Fights, yes, but never a war. I am not an overly brave man and have never held a musket. Worse still, my compatriots will think I've been compromised if somebody recognizes me, and they may put a contract out on my head.
"It is what I deserve. The Emperor is an honorable man, and I cannot say I would have spared his life were our positions reversed. Farewell, old friend. I hope to see you again soon, but if I do not, God be with you."
"And with you, Daoud Selim Iskander. I think the Lord will keep you and protect you; I feel you have some part to play yet. Good luck, and safe journeys."
The two men embraced. Each felt he would never see the other again.
Only time would tell who was right.
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18 November 1591, the Castle St. Maso, Rome
It was done. The Castillian Ambassador rejected the Tuscan ultimatum, first claiming total ignorance of the crime, then insisting that Rodriguez was nowhere to be found, and finally saying that no Prince of the blood would ever be handed over to foreign heathens. After trying a few last ditch efforts to assure Muscovite intervention, to no avail, Emperor Leo III handed the ambassador a declaration of war.
Leo III briefly considered his ruling on Iskander's fate. The truth was, in his own twisted way, Daoud was trying to serve the Empire, and he had never intended the death of his father. At the same time, however, he had betrayed confidential secrets. Perhaps he would learn loyalty and respect in the legions; he was at this very moment part of the Legio III 'Butterius'. General Butteri had very clear orders regarding his newest soldier. Iskander was assigned to a reconnaissance element, where he was almost assured contact with the enemy.
Marshal van Dijk entered the room, with a couple of maps under his arm. "With your permission, Emperor, I'd like to show you our opening moves."
The Emperor motioned for him to continue. "Here is our Eastern Theater."
"The latest reports suggest no opposition nearby, so we will strike quickly. General Butteri has ordered his legions to spread out, seizing Gaza, Sinai, and Delta. The tenth Legion will move south, into Aleppo. These four Legions will secure the Holy Land and Northern Egypt as rapidly as possible. Next, the Western Theater."
"Barring a surprise attack from Morocco, the Sixth Legion has orders to proceed east into Gabes and not to stop until he reaches Cyrenaica, which is currently a possession of Provence. All commanders have orders to take their cities as quickly as possible, using our siege equipment to reduce enemy fortifications. We have no reports, as yet, of the Castillian army. I suspect they are farther east, dealing with the Timurids, but I cannot confirm this at this time. Do you have any questions, Emperor?"
"One. What of our fleets?"
"For now, one will be kept near Judea. I've ordered the other -- the Classis I 'Byzantia' -- to sail west and blockade Tripolitania. I anticipate no resistance there, and they will transport the Sixth Legion elsewhere when their mission is complete. Eventually, we must consider an amphibious assault to capture territory in Hispania proper, but my understanding is that for now, we are to focus on North Africa and the Levant. Am I correct?"
"You are."
"Is there any word on whether any of Castille's allies will honor their call to arms? What of Muscovy?"
"We will know for certain tomorrow evening."
"Very good. If you will excuse me, I have a war to win."
"By all means. Godspeed, Marshal van Dijk."
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16 December, 1591, the office of the Foreign Minister
As it turned out, Transylvania and Riga had honored the call of Castille, but France did not, a great boon that even Muscovy's abandonment was no great loss. Thanks to a very thorough spy network, Minister Barberini had strong estimates of enemy and allied strength.
The good news -- perhaps the great news -- was that Castille was grossly outnumbered. However, Burgundy would likely not participate in the East, where the fighting would be toughest, and France would probably not grant passage to her bitter enemy, and so would not be able to participate in an overland invasion of Hispania.
The first blow was struck at sea. On 1 December, off the Palestinian coast, the Classis II 'Datti' destroyed an enemy fleet of 1 large ship and two light ships. It was hardly an even contest, but it seemed that Castille's navy would not be much of a threat either; Giovanni speculated that much of it was in the New World. Delta fell on 12 December -- the first of many such victories -- with the enemy armies nowhere in sight.
Not everything was going perfectly, however. Since Muscovy had not joined the war, Transylvania was able to menace Constantinople, and only one legion could be spared from the offensive in the east. Barberini prayed that the Byzantines could contribute a few regiments.
The best guess of Marshal van Dijk's men was that the first target would be Silistria. It was very trying to the men in Burgas to let the numerically superior Transylvanians siege wherever they wished, but the Marshal promised a bold plan to ensure the enemy's defeat.
The first days of the war had gone exceedingly well, but even a military novice like Barberini knew that the worst was yet to come. One question was on everybody's mind.
Where were those blasted troops?
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20 December 1591, Bulgaria
The Commander of the VIII Legio 'Roma' was a remnant from Salvestro Pieroni's brief tenure as Marshal. He was a close friend to the ex-Marshal, but that was his only qualification to command. Marshal van Dijk hated leaving an important operation in the hands of a neophyte, but he could not spare his fighting generals. After consulting with the Emperor, a new Commander was chosen: the Marshal's younger brother, a mercenary captain named Jan van Dijk.[2] The Marshal didn't trust anybody else, and Jan was more than happy to work for his brother, provided the price was right.
Jan's orders were simple but bold.
The Marshal knew that Transylvania simply didn't have the economy to have a large army, and that it was almost a guarantee that there would be no resistance. If Transylvania fell quickly, a white peace was a certainty, and the Emperor had no territorial ambitions in Transylvania.
Successes continued to pile up in the east: both Gaza and Beirut had fallen in the last week. It looked as if the war would be over in a few more months.
Such thoughts were mistaken. Gravely mistaken.
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22 January 1592, Jerusalem
General Antonio Butteri was confounded. He'd been given authority to feel out the enemy's desire for surrender, but he still had yet to see a single soldier. Ordinarily, he'd be thrilled at his command's easy victories -- Sinai fell on Christmas Day, and Alexandria and Sidon by the 20th of January, but it seemed as if Castille didn't care.
Then it struck him. Nobody had really examined Castille's holdings in the New World, had they? As he looked at the map he'd brought along, his heart fell.
With their colonies in North America, South America, and Africa, it was no wonder that few of the territories thus far taken had made much impact. The only options available were to either defeat one or more Castillian armies or to invade Hispania. The New World was too far and he wasn't at all sure his fleets would survive a long transoceanic voyage.
Even his conquest of Judea felt a little hollow. The Castillian governor of Judea had been polite, but clearly expected relief sooner rather than later. Something was clearly in the works. Still, even if it was symbolic, the thought of Tuscany controlling the Holy Land made many happy.
A letter from the Marshal spoke of ill tidings to the north: Silistria had fallen to the Transylvanian army. Although not unexpected, since Butteri had been briefed on the plan, it still caused some consternation among the masses. One of his soldiers, a native of that province, had to be arrested and placed in a makeshift jail to keep from deserting.
He was actually impressed with his new "scout", the traitor Iskander. He knew the area very well, and more importantly, knew the people very well. He briefly fantasized about not having to waste three perfectly good soldiers to keep him from running, but since the dawn of man, politicians had placed unreasonable limitations on their soldiers. It was irritating, but not insurmountable.
The General turned to his map. Perhaps he needed to go further inland to provoke a confrontation with Castille...
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1 February 1592, Judea
Daoud Selim Iskander originally thought his life would get better when General Butteri was transferred to the Seventh Legion in order to lead the attack. He was wrong. The new Commander of the Third Legion was a sadistic jerk that forced him to wear ankle weights in addition to the constant guard, so he couldn't run away. Worse still, his musket was taken away, so if he got into a firefight, he couldn't defend himself. Iskander knew he deserved to suffer for his atonement, but this seemed to be too much.
Gabes had fallen the day before, some of the soldiers heard. With Smyrna becoming a core territory, a couple of the sergeants speculated that the Emperor wouldn't be satisfied until all of Castille's land was part of the Empire. Iskander knew better, knew that until the Spaniards had the horrors of war visited upon them in their homes, there would be little or no chance of peace. The Latins were nothing if not stiff-necked.
All of sudden, he saw dust in the east. A lot of dust. He nudged one of his guards and pointed this out. The guard woke up the rest of the unit, and very quietly, they began to count regimental flags. 25 regiments were in the field! A runner from the unit ran back to the main camp with the information; it seemed all three legions would be needed to confront this threat.
Battle would soon be joined, he thought. He hoped the runner got back to camp in time.
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23 February 1592, Judea
General Butteri, for the first time in all of his years as a soldier, felt sick to his stomach. Yes, he'd won the battle, but the casualties had been horrific. The King of Castille himself, Alfonso XII de Trastamarta, led the enemy army. Although Butteri would put up his skills as a leader against any man, having the King present must have inspired his troops, as they put up one hell of a fight.
To make matters worse, another enemy column was spotted; this one farther north, in Dayz-Al-Zor. Only one Legion could oppose them. The Marshal dispatched orders to land the Legion from Constantine farther east, since the Moroccans made no signs of attack, but that would take a couple of weeks. He hoped that legion could stand fast.
For now, his men had to lick their wounds, perhaps even get some reinforcements. They'd met the enemy head on, and the results had not been pleasant. There was no good defensive ground either. Only raw courage and skill would win the day.
He just hoped that next time, the price wouldn't be quite so high.
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20 March 1592, off the coast of Valencia
With the fall of Libya, the Legio III 'Butterius' was racing east as quickly as they could for support, but General Pietro Bartolini, commanding the Legio II 'Sicilia' knew that, ultimately, the war would not be won in the east. It would be won in Hispania itself. He'd been preparing to land in Spain for three or four days -- it took a while for one legion to organize. His best intelligence indicated that his landing would be unopposed. Modena and Genoa had already besieged Pirineo and Girona.
Victory in the war rested squarely on him, he conjectured. The battle of Hammah was a disaster, and while the enemy column took some casualties, the V Legio 'Graecia' was a shell of its former self. Any attempts to flee to better defensive ground were almost certain to fail, since they were encumbered with artillery and the enemy was not.
Only by racing for the enemy capital -- Madrid -- could he truly achieve success. [3]
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1 May 1592, Mus
Tripolitania fell. The legions commanded by General Butteri were moving east into Hawran, and all reports suggested that General Bartolini was having great success in Valencia.
None of that mattered to the Fifth Legion. Only their artillery was in decent shape, and without reinforcements, that too would soon vanish.
They got to Mus too late, and found the enemy already entrenched. They couldn't retreat, and the frontal assault was particularly brutal. The men were briefly cheered by the conversion of Istria to the Lutheran faith, making all the Italian provinces properly Protestant. Muscovy had signed a new alliance, but still refused to enter the war, and so this time the Emperor didn't even issue a call to arms. Rumors that another legion was sailing to reinforce them were unconfirmed, and many of the sergeants considered it false hope.
The black humor going through the camp now was that they'd better learn Spanish, since they'd be prisoners before too long. The Commander knew better.
The Spanish never took prisoners.
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15 June 1592, Mus
While the Fifth Legion escaped safely to Erserum and began to entrench, relief finally came. The Third Legion was diverted to Mus, which had a convenient port, and fought a brave rear guard action to help extract the remnants of the Fifth.
The Fifth Legion was safe, for now, but without a new game plan or a new leader, victory over even this small detachment seemed too unlikely.
That was the role of the new General of the Northern Theater; Innocenzo Ludovisi.
General Ludovisi had been a colonel on the Marshal's staff ever since van Dijk had come to Tuscany. Ludovisi was actually of Venetian descent; his ancestors had actually fought against Tuscany in the past. Ludovisi met Karel van Dijk in Holland looking for a new assignment. The fact was that Venice wasn't really a threat to anyone, and their army was a joke. Ludovisi hungered for real action, and after talking with the Dutch strategist, he became an integral member of van Dijk's staff. He'd learned much, and when the call came for a new General, the Marshal gave his blessing, complaining good-naturedly that he'd lost his best Colonel right after he was starting to be useful.
Ludovisi brought bad news with him as well. Although Libya had fallen, thanks to some clever maneuvering the Castillians had retaken Sidon. The three legions of General Butteri's command were chasing around the enemy soldiers, but were constantly falling behind thanks to the encumbrance of artillery.
Innocenzo surveyed his command -- one recently wounded Legion and one that would need some months to be restored.
It would take a miracle, in his opinion, to turn around the fortunes of the eastern theater.
What he didn't know was that a miracle was coming, and from an unlikely source.
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[1] Another bug thanks to the new patch. Muscovy is in an invisible war, I guess.
[2] I actually thought about making Marius Cato the commander. Then I realized he'd be over 130 years old! I really need to keep better track of my character's ages. So yeah, both he and Marcus are dead. I'll introduce their heirs in a future update, if they're important to the story. Unless they are, I'm not going to bother creating new heirs to the various Duchies.
[3] I must not play EU 3 enough -- I didn't realize Toledo was actually the capital until after the war was over :wacko:
Next update should be in a couple of days, which will feature the exciting conclusion to this war!