Excerpt from 'The Crisis of the Catholic Church in the 14th Century' by Wilburh Osmond & Ealdwine Cild (Lunden: 1942)
If the Church authorities expected the Tuscan people to revolt against their heretic King, they would be sorely disappointed. With only a handful of exceptions, the aristocracy gleefully threw in their lot with their liege. After news of the King's conversion began to circulate, the Waldensian underground rose up and took matter into their own hands - an orgy of looting and destruction followed, with bishops dragged from their cathedrals and churches reduced to bare walls and empty sacristies in the hands of the peasantry. Local nobility often encouraged or led these acts to claim the greatest part of the treasures for themselves. In the aftermath, they seized clerical holdings and lands to add to their own domains - the common folk toiling on church soil soon found themselves merely exchanging one master for another. Still, under royal decree, the peasantry and the burghers in the cities received a 'godly share' of the seized property, an act that served to effectively placate any simmering unrest.
This did not mean that all of Tuscany embraced the Waldensian cause overnight. Indeed, crypto-Catholic holdouts would remain for over a century. The institution of the Papacy held great sway in the mind of the average peasant. It would not be dislodged easily. Early church fathers in this period write on the trouble of dealing with peasantry who happily listen to their anti-clerical sermon one moment, only to kneel before graven images of saints and shelter Papist priests the next. Anti-Catholic fervor appears to have been strongest in central Florence, Genoa, Istria, Milan, and the Catalan regions of Aragon. The cities with their urban poor were more keen to embrace the new faith than the landholding peasantry of the countryside, though if they expected the burghers of their cities to give away their wealth like the holy Waldo had done, they were bound to be disappointed.
The paradox of King Goffredo - a cynical agnostic, by all accounts - spearheading a dramatic religious awakening has not escaped the attention of scholars. The King's motives were undoubtedly political first and foremost, even petty, a kind of vengeance on the Pope who had so slighted him. Waldensian leaders have debated his role in this Tuscan Reformation for some time. Most tend to agree that 'God may work even through imperfect vessels', seeing Goffredo as an unknowing tool of the Almighty.
Regardless of how deep or heartfelt his new beliefs were, the King prosecuted the conversion of his realm with unwavering determination. The first order of business for Goffredo was persuading the Aragonese nobility to join his cause. Though the Waldensian movement had never gained a true foothold in Aragon, its lords and ladies saw the way the wind was blowing. With some promises of favors, bribes and other cajoling, King Goffredo convinced the Dukes of Aragon and Barcelona announce their conversion in late 1381. The Bishop of Valencía followed soon after, forsaking his spiritual title to rule as Duke Abbas from that moment on.
With his vassals dealt with, the King turned his attention to his immediate neighbors. The Duke of Transjurania to the north had been swept up in the religious frenzy and converted with his vassals, as had the lords of Carinthia under the Bavarian king. The Guerra King of Venice was easily convinced to follow suit. Catholic power was collapsing rapidly in the family after its disgrace at the hands of the Holy Father. Only the Kings of Jerusalem and Syria, well aware of their position as Crusader Kings and their reliance on Catholic goodwill, refused to heed the example of the head of their house.
The anger shared by the House of Guerra towards the Pope certainly helped carry this wave of conversions. King Wenzel of England, uncle to Goffredo, would put aside their differences and agree to accept the Waldensian faith himself. Though his vassals were not so easily convinced, the undeniable righteousness and God-granted rule of the Crusader King of England convinced them to gradually follow suit. The Greek and Vlach side of the family was not pressed to convert, as they already denied the authority of the Papacy as Orthodox and Bogomil rulers.
Some zealots remained in the Kingdom, choosing loyalty to the Pope rather than accept the new doctrine. King Goffredo spent some years seeking compromise and negotiating with these holdouts. By 1385, his patience had evidently ran out. Count Benedetto of Friuli would become a martyr for the Catholic faith after his arrest and execution late in that year for his continued fealty to the Catholic Church. He would later be beatified by Pope Leo XII as an exemplar of faith unto death. He was burned at the stake by local Waldensians at the King's behest. Rumors would later begin to abound of the apparent miracles around his passing, and ash from the pyre would be sold as holy relics around Catholic Italy.
In 1388, Marco, the heir to the throne, reached his maturity. Growing up in the chaos of the Tuscan Reformation had produced a cunning, ambitious young man of noted intellect and beauty. His father had seen fit to give him a materialistic education chiefly concerned with good stewardship and the upkeep of the royal treasury. While not particularly zealous, the influence of Waldensian preachers had ensured young Marco grew up a committed believer in the movement. As such, he is often named the first truly Waldensian King of Tuscany-Aragon.
Many Waldensians expected in the spirit of millennialism that the entire rotten Catholic Church would soon come crashing down and all nations would unite in the true Christian faith, with its ideals of apostolic poverty, right to lay preaching and opposition to the temporal power of the clergy. In truth, this First Reformation remained a local one, though it certainly emboldened the Lollards of the north in their own battles. Some ripple effects can be seen in the Catholic world, however. In Poland, a period of internal chaos, foreign invasions and religious upheaval saw a peculiar dwarf woman by the name of Zofia proclaim herself as both bishop and queen in Poland. This bizarre, clearly unorthodox institution was nevertheless formally sanctioned by a Catholic Church terrified of its own destruction.
Zofia's rule would not last long, but its very existence tells much about the chaotic nature of the times. In Portugal, the newly-minted 'most Catholic Kingdom' began its decline around the same time. Within a few decades, it would be plunged into a civil war it would never recover from. The crisis of the Church was nearing its apex.
***
From the Turin Codex, a 14th-century work of occult philosophy allegedly authored by King Goffredo I of Tuscany
(...) In every corner of my realm, my name was praised with all the zeal of the blindly faithful. I treated them with the kindness one shows to children and animals. How could I not? They are allies in the great struggle, even if they know little of the truth. Still many in the kingdom resisted their liberation and called out to the Harlot of Rome in their daily prayers. There was grave concern among the preachers that the great work was stalling. The endurance of the Catholic faith threatened the foundations of my rule.
Did you believe me some grand zealot? I am not. I did what I did for many reasons. You will know by now that faith was never one of them. First, I wished to cast out the Pope from his city and show the zealots of the Church how weak and mortal their Holy Father truly was. Secondly, I knew of the great riches in the vaults of the Vatican. Mammon is the foundation of any rule and any religion. I desired the wealth of the Church for myself. Thirdly, I confess it was also a matter of vengeance. I held - I still hold - great hatred for the preening, self-righteous fool at the head of his Church. I hoped to take him captive and slay him, but I was content enough to see him merely humiliated.
None of these are the complete truth. Heed me now. The Church knows more of the mysteries of Creation than it wishes to reveal. There were secrets piled high in the secret archives of Rome. Indeed, then, I craved plunder - but not of coin and material things. I desired the things they had hidden away in those nameless vaults deep beneath their gilded temples. That, and that most of all, is the reason for what I have done.
Excerpt from 'The Crisis of the Catholic Church in the 14th Century' by Wilburh Osmond & Ealdwine Cild (Lunden: 1942)
The Waldensian Crusade of 1390-1392 perhaps does not deserve the name. Some Waldensian figures do appear to have preached for 'the liberation of Rome', but these were in the minority. The campaign to take the city was not launched from popular sentiment. The impetus for the invasion came chiefly from King Goffredo and a cadre of upper nobility. Their motives were likely material ones. Rome was the greatest and richest city in Europe. The opportunity to seize and sack it must have struck these 'political Waldensians' as an irresistible one.
Such an undertaking would not come easy or cheap. Despite his modest temporal holdings, the Pope held the purse-strings of every Catholic in Europe. The Papacy's immense wealth and influence drew thousands and thousands of mercenaries to its employ when rumors of an invasion began circulating. When the Tuscans struck, they found a massive army of veteran mercenaries arrayed against them.
Not shown: the endless mercenary stacks that bastard conjured out of thin air.
King Goffredo had not left anything to chance, forever. He still held the sympathies and allegiance of his House, especially the many lords and sovereigns who had converted with him. At the King's request, Guerras from across Christendom sent their forces to assist in his efforts. That some of these allies were, on paper, Catholic rulers, shows just how deeply the House of Guerra was affected by the Pope's actions against them.
In the end, over 160 000 men had gathered around the Guerra banner. The Pope stood against them with perhaps eighty thousand. The odds were not as overwhelming as they might seem on paper. The Guerra forces trickled in over time from many distant realms and courts, while the Papal army was already gathered in Rome. Furthermore, Rome and it's environs were fortress cities, thick with castles and outposts that needed to be secured one at a time by the invading armies. The war would only last two years, but it would feature some of the largest and bloodiest battles seen in medieval Europe.
This kind of warfare was tremendously expensive. The King had perhaps hoped that the loot from the Sack of Rome would cover the costs, but this was not to be. The Tuscan crown had secured a great deal of gold and supplies in preparation for the campaign, but the sheer size of their armies and the difficulties of operating in the heart of the Catholic empire quickly drained this wealth away to nothing. The opposing side had no such issue. The war was so popular among mercenaries precisely because of the fortunes offered by the Pope for fighting. It is said that even the lowliest foot soldier in the Papal armies returned home as rich as a king - as long as they survived the grueling battles, of course.
The fortunes of war began, nevertheless, to slowly turn against the Pope. The mercenary armies had not been intended as anything more as a stopgap measure - a force to hold off the invaders long enough for all the might of Catholic Christendom to stir awake and come to the aid of their master. This desecration of the heart of the Church and one of the most holy sites of the faith should have brought Catholic kings and knights running to its defense from all over.
And yet - none came. The shortness of the war helps explains the lack of support somewhat, but not completely. There is plenty of evidence that nearby Catholic powers learned of the attack in time to respond. In any other time, the Catholics of the Mediterranean would no doubt have eagerly arrived to fight for their Church. Certainly this should have been expected from the King of Hesse, so recently named Champion of Rome by the very Pope who now stood facing disaster. Historians have long debated the matter, but there is only one coherent explanation. The Church had lost its moral authority and political influence after all the turmoil and disorder of the past decades - the Crisis of the Catholic Church was now fully in existence.
Rome was surrendered in 1392. It is said that Pope Silvester was still watching the horizon for the arrival of Hessian reinforcements when his council forced him aboard the last ship to leave the coast of Latium. He refused ardently to sign any agreement of surrender, but such legal fictions were no longer necessary. Rome was in Guerra hands, and the demoralized mercenaries were beginning to desert en masse with their new riches rather than stay to fight hopeless battles.
The Papacy in Rome had come to an end. The head of the Church fled to the Papal fiefdom in Sardinia, where the Church would in time assert its 'Kingdom of God in Exile'.
With Rome in the hands of the Waldensians, King Goffredo announced the formation of what has been called the 'Waldensian Papacy'. Guerra forces withdrew from Rome, leaving it in the hands of a local Waldensian preacher, Abelardo Pilloni. With the King's blessing, he was now the head of the Waldensian Church, replacing the 'Harlot of Rome' with purer, more faithful governance.
There was only one problem. The Waldensian movement was founded on principles of anti-clericalism and opposition to clergy holding any temporal power. Would they now follow an almighty Priest-King once more, when they had so fervently opposed the Catholic Pope? To make things worse, Abelardo was soon revealed to be in many ways the opposite of a good Waldensian Christian; a greedy, vindictive man given to many vices in spite of all his learning. King Goffredo's decree had little to do with faith and everything to do with politics. As such, many of his followers were disillusioned by this betrayal of the movement's values. The attempt to secure Waldensian supremacy in Italy ironically weakened conversion efforts, as sympathies to the deposed Pope seized much of the populace.
King Goffredo would not live to see these consequences. He died shortly after the proclamation of the new Papacy in 1393, leaving the throne and the religiously unstable realm in the hands of King Marco II. In many ways, it was the end of an age and the beginning of a new one. The world was rapidly changing; the exile of the Papacy from Rome had thrown many of the old rules and legalities of medieval Europe into question. The administration of Marco II was already starting its transition into a government of the early modern model...
The last CK3 ruler follows! I've already played some 60 years of EU4, so we'll get started on it right after.