Chapter 3 B : Bottoms, BRAs, and Bondage -
Changing the Sheets (1431-1436)
Sovereign Albrecht I von Hohenzollern, since 22 May 1431
A bright summer's day, May 1433. Somewhere on the outskirts of Eindhoven, a military encampment, over which flew the banners of
Holland, Liege, Friesland, and Cleves. Clad in polished battle armour, Sovereign Albrecht I of
Holland strode into his tent. Within stood his brother Eberhard, poring over a pile of papers placed on a makeshift table.
"What news from the front, brother?" commanded Lord Albrecht.
"Well ..." Eberhard said, picking out one of the papers, "NAC Breda lost to FC Groningen, 2-3. And Feyenoord lost 0-2 at home to PSV. I hear their defence was all at sea in that match ..."
"Damn! Er, I mean, shut up! This is the time for war, not football! You have no business with that now!"
"You're right. Football needs its own special time."
"Enough of your nonsense! Just give me what I need to know about the military situation!" snarled Lord Albrecht as he glared his brother straight in the eye, "I hope the council was right in convincing me to bring you along to handle my military affairs. General Venloo is out in the field clashing swords with the enemy, Marshal of the Mint Bolsward is handling the logistics, and I had to appoint that creep Alfredo Zeno as Treasurer to administer affairs at home, after the General's brother succumbed to his illness, or, 'his goose was cooked', so I heard."
"Okay, okay!" said Eberhard, as he rummaged through the rest of the pile of paper, "So, after we managed to persuade Liege, Friesland, and Cleves to help us out in the war, Brabant called in all of their allies as well - and they answered. So we are in a state of war with Oldenburg, Bremen, Alsace, and Bar. You know, aren't those the guys Mr Zeno kept complaining about who keep kicking our merchants out of business?"
"Excellent - doubly excellent!" said Lord Albrecht, with a calculating grin, "Not only will our armies overwhelm them easily - once we have sieged down their forts, we'll demand their merchants' ill-gotten gains in exchange for their freedom. And their pride will be stained in the eyes of the world - all will see that their trade is safe only with the merchants of
Holland."
"It's not all good news, though ..." Eberhard added, "Although we've defeated Brabant, Oldenburg and Bremen have mobilised their forces to attack us. Their navies are now at the bottom of the sea, but that still leaves the assault force they've landed in Rotterdam. Also, we haven't heard from the two wildcards - Venice on the enemies' side, and Sweden on ours."
"Their naval landing is no big deal. General Venloo has reported that the battle is going smoothly in our favour. We shall pursue the Brabanters until they surrender or are annihilated. Then, after allocating a division to lay siege to their cities, he will make an about turn to clean out the invaders from our lands. Better they attempt to attack us at our strongest, rather than trying to force our allies out of the war. As to Venice and Sweden, I expect that we shall hear from them soon."
"Oh, and one more thing ..."
"Burgundy declared war on Nevers, whose independence was guaranteed by Liege and Hainaut. Since Hainaut is still recovering from their short war with France, Liege have become war leader and are asking for our assistance."
"This is most unfortunate timing, but we have to say yes," Lord Albrecht sighed at the new inconvenience, "Liege is helping us in our war, we can't just go out there and tell their soldiers to sod off. Besides, joining the war against scum Burgundy would be most popular back home. The Burgundian homeland is too far from us, so they won't try to interfere in our war and we can deal with them after I've finished my business with Brabant. Does this make sense?"
"Well, if you know what you're doing ... I'll be happy just as long as they don't mess up the football schedule further."
"And here I thought you were finally beginning to show some aptitude for military-administrative matters ..."
"My liege! I bring news from distant lands!"
At that moment, the flap of Lord Albrecht's command tent was drawn open, as a hitherto unknown bearded man in a cloth skullcap entered the tent, carrying several letters of correspondence. Behind him, in the sunlight, there stood four men - three with silly hats and one with a cool-looking one. The three men with silly hats appeared to be in various degrees of confusion, glancing at each other nervously, while the fourth man seemed to be consumed with anxiety.
"Oh?" Lord Albrecht whirled around to face the stranger, as Eberhard looked up from his pile of papers, "Who are you, anyway?"
"Ah, I'm sorry! Allow me to introduce myself, sire - Johan Spijkenisse, at your service. ('Heh heh, 'speak-a-nice') I was formerly a clergyman but I now work as a translator - a six-star rating from the academy, no less. Have faith in my ability, my lord!"
"Is that so? What languages can you speak?" asked Lord Albrecht, as he clocked his brother over the head to silence his inane chuckling, "Show me your skill."
"For example, I can speak English - '
I can speak English', see? And Swedish too! - 'Jag kan babelfish Svenska'!"
"Excellent, I need a translator for my diplomatic service," nodded Lord Albrecht, "You'll do a much better job than my brother, who only knows the lowest forms of inter-human communications. ('Hehehe.' 'Shut up.') So who are these men, and what do they want?"
"Well, these three men ..." Johan indicated the three men with silly cloth hats, "are from Venice. They arrived within days of each other, actually - we had translated the first letter and were about to deliver it to you when the second man arrived, and likewise for the third."
"Okay. So, let's see ..." Lord Albrecht mused as he began opening the letters, "Venice has honoured their alliance with Brabant and declared war on us. Oh, that's simply terrible, we did not foresee that in the slightest. Well then, since we're at war, I want the first messenger arrested."
"It's true, sire. They made a peace with the Turk, though they're still at war with Emperor Austria."
Behind Johan, one of the three men looked exceptionally worried as his compatriot explained the situation to him.
"The second letter ... hmm, they've ejected us from their trade league. Simply terrible. Eberhard, take a note to let the Hansa know their deal is back up and running. And have the second messenger arrested too."
"Got it, Bertie." Upon hearing Lord Albrecht's words, a second man quivered at the knees.
"The third ...
what? They want to sue for peace? No terms? Why did they even agree to declare war in the first place? What is this omnishambles?"
By now all three men were cowering in fear, having expected to be on the receiving end of the lord's wrath for some time.
"Get them all out of my sight! Tell them to inform the Doge of Venice he can jolly well do as he pleases, as long as he doesn't interfere in our war! And, also, that he is an incompetent sot!"
Johan Spijkenisse turned and explained the situation to the three men, who nodded assent before fleeing with their hats in their hands. The last messenger stepped forward, knowing that it was the turn of his case to be heard, all the while wearing a grave expression.
"And this last messenger is, I presume, the messenger from our faithful allies Sweden? Have they agreed to lend us their aid?"
"Actually ... no, sire," replied Johan, "Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. King Gustav Oxenstierna of Sweden was at the negotiating table with the new King Christian Gryf of Denmark and King Harald Benkestot of Norway, agreeing to a truce with the Mamluks. With the paper signed and delivered, Christian and Harald then drew their swords and slew King Gustav where he stood! My liege, Denmark has declared war on Sweden to press their claims to the Swedish throne, and the new King of Norway is complicit in their scheme!"
"And what does this have to do with ..."
"
WHAT?!" yelled Eberhard, struck by those words as if by a bolt of lightning, "What about Christina! My Christina!"
"I'm afraid you will never see her again, sir. ('Hardy, she's not yours, you know!') King Gustav's daughter was committed to a convent in Lappland by local conspirators. I'm told it's as close to a death sentence as you can get - death by boredom, in fact. No Oxenstierna has been left to rule Sweden."
"That's horrible!!! She'll be stuck making toys in Santa's workshop for all eternity! I need to get me to that nunnery! Haste, post-haste!"
"That really isn't possible, nor a recommended course of action, sir," Johan advised, before returning to Lord Albrecht, "Anyway, since we are allies, Sweden wants us to aid them against Denmark and Norway and their Baltic allies. Scotland has honoured the Swedish call to arms. What do you say, my liege?"
"I ... er ..." Lord Albrecht seemed to be disarmed by the call for help, coming on the heels of the previous one, as he pondered the proposal for a few moments before replying, "Tell Sweden that we'll join their war if they join us in ours. It's a bilateral agreement. A fair deal."
"But ... my liege! The Swedes are fighting for their nation's independence here! They won't be able to commit a single man beyond their borders."
"We are allies, are we not? If one of us does not send help to the other, the other will not reciprocate. Tell them that."
"... very well, my lord," said Johan as he drew the flap of the tent shut, "but you can consider the alliance to be at an end. The Swedes won't be too happy about this ..." As he turned to leave, a voice emanated from the depths of the commander's tent.
"NO!!! CHRISTINA!!!"
A year's fighting later ... well, mostly just waiting for a siege to resolve until I lost patience and told them to assault.
In other news, Oldenburg was vassalised and money was demanded from the other participants in the war.
Also, see Nevers getting overrun. We'll deal with that later.
A large hall, somewhere in Amsterdam. In the middle of the hall, there stood a large box with a slot on it. Before the box there stood two men, one well-built with dark skin, and the other thin with fair skin. One after the other, both stepped forward and dropped a single gold
Hollander Guilder within.
"You too, huh?" the fair-skinned man addressed the dark-skinned man, and the second man nodded silently. His grim countenance signalled his dissatisfaction as he turned to walk away.
"Well, see you again next month ..."
"No. Next year." the dark-skinned man replied tersely, before leaving the room.
"What?"
"You misunderstand, Jean de Valois!" snapped a voice from the side of the room. A door swung open and Lord Albrecht of
Holland entered the room, flanked by Marshal of the Mint Kaspar Bolsward, and newly-appointed Chancellor Spijkenisse.
"Oh, thank goodness you've arrived. Bertie von Hohenzollern! I was beginning to think you weren't coming at all!"
"Shut your trap, Brabanter scum! Don't think you can mess with me just because you're, oh, some distant relative of the King of France. And don't even think of calling me by that name!"
"Oh dear. Sooo sorry. So I wonder, what exactly is this misunderstanding all about? You said, one Guilder of tribute, didn't you, hmm?"
"You see, you're paying one Guilder's tribute
per month. The Duke of Oldenburg must pay me a Guilder's tribute
per season. And that man is paying one Guilder's tribute
per year."
"Goodness, hmm! You're quite the conniver, aren't you, Lord Bertie?" Jean IV of Brabant cooed. Standing at least a head taller than Lord Albrecht, the slender man certainly did not act the part of a defeated leader, "So, what's this other thing about bondage you mentioned?"
"Bondage? You mean how the you and the ruler of Oldenburg are no longer Sovereign, but are required to be my vassal Dukes! And don't call me..."
"Yes, vassalage. That's right. Is it anything like bondage?"
"Well, kind of. But that's not really how I'd describe it..."
"Like being a servant? A slave? A
personal slave?"
"No, no, no! It means, to be ... like a vassal, okay? That means you have to pay tribute, and support me in my endeavours."
"Ah, not what I thought, most unfortunate," said Jean, sounding a little disappointed. "but I shall indeed do as is your pleasure.
Support you. I always wanted to be your friend, to get close to you. This is a wonderful opportunity."
"Well, no! You don't have to be close to me at all! Just send me your troops! I need soldiers - military force!"
"Ah, yes. More force. More strength. More
power ... it shall be done, Lord Albrecht. We shall support you, hmm, from behind. I will enjoy this immensely."
"Whatever!" Albrecht snarled, already seething at the older man's teasing. "Anyway, you know what I want, now get out of here! You're a creep, Jean, do you know that?"
"You're certainly one to talk, Bertie," Jean taunted as he turned to leave. "You attacked me without the slightest provocation. Well, okay, maybe you were upset with a few nice things I said to you about your dear father, but ..."
"It's not my fault that every single damn thing you say makes me upset! And don't call me Bertie!"
Sorry, I couldn't resist it. His long face just made me think about this.
Apologies to all Brabant fans. And people who hate rage faces.
"... bastard ... only idiots call me Bertie ..."
"My lord? Are you ... crying?"
Marshal of the Mint Kaspar placed a hand on Lord Albrecht's shoulder. The Lord of
Holland was, after all, still only a lad by most standards, hardly twenty and five years of age, and an orphan.
"N ... no! I'm just unhappy ... unsatisfied, okay? That Feye ... Ajax didn't win the cup in '34. I'm still upset about it, okay?!"
"All right, whatever you say, my lord," said Chancellor Spijkenisse, somewhat remembering at the back of his mind that Ajax did in fact win. "There's still the matter of scum Burgundy. They've forced the Sovereign of Nevers to yield to their will and are marshalling their forces to wipe out the last of their resistance. We promised Liege we'd sort this matter out for them, but haven't taken any steps since. What shall we do?"
"What shall we do? You're a diplomat, Johan! You know what kind of diplomacy we do with scum nations like Burgundy and Brabant! Send General Venloo to take care of it!"
"And ... you want to force them into bondage as well?" Kaspar asked. "It would be somewhat fitting, considering how they regarded the people of the Low Counties back in their heyday thirty years ago. Bringing a second scum nation low would greatly please our people."
"Actually, Kaspar, that's a bad idea," said Johan, "In my new appointment as Chancellor, I've heard from Emperor Austria that they wish to 'Pursue their Burgundian Inheritance', or whatever that means. Essentially, they wish to conquer the Burgundian homelands for themselves. Trying to make Burgundy bend the knee to us would put us on a collision course with the Emperor. There's also France to worry about ... we don't want to have any strategic interests on their borders."
"Well said, Chancellor Spijkenisse," said Lord Albrecht, "Extract whatever you can from the Burgundian scum short of demanding their vassalisation. I shan't honour them with the opportunity of visiting Amsterdam to pay me tribute. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like a little bit of ... alone time."
"Dad ... why didn't you ..."
It would be a fitting fate for scum Burgundy, but unfortunately it's not a wise choice.
Also note other European countries blobbing up - France, Castille, England, and Austria.
Intimidating. When will Holland find its place in the sun?
A bright sunny day, May 1436. Lord Albrecht of
Holland stood in the grounds of his mansion in Amsterdam, soaking in the sun and glorious summer, as his younger brother Eberhard sat poring over a scrap of paper - the latest football results, no doubt. A bearded man in a skullcap darted into view and accosted the young lord.
"My liege! Urgent diplomatic correspondence!" Chancellor Spijknisse cried.
"What is it? Who calls?"
"Emperor Johann Leopold of Austria has sent a pronouncement to all nations of the Holy Roman Empire - he is appointing a new elector, following the annexation of the Prince-Bishopric of Mainz!"
"So, he wants to nominate us?"
"No! Hainaut! Conditional on the return of a German family - the Wittelsbachs - to the Hainautian throne."
"Bugger all! You didn't have to spoil my day with news from that scum nation. And that scum family."
"It's not the only thing. Our reconnaisance forces on the ground near the Promised Land have reported an opportunity - dissent among the heathen native lords. This could be our chance to establish a foothold to claim the Promised Land for our own!"
"The Promised Land!" Lord Albrecht paused for a moment to recollect the Holy Book of
Holland. "We must seize the day! Send an expeditionary force - this chance must not be missed!"
Now play The Final Countdown.
"Lastly," continued Johan, "Some news from the Baltic which might be of interest to you. King Christian Gryf of Denmark has been assassinated by Swedish conspirators in what seems like a revenge attack. The nobility of Sweden, yearning for freedom from the Danish yoke, has risen in revolt once again."
"A story worthy of a proper literary tragedy. A revenge tragedy, if you asked me. But specifically just what about this should interest me?"
"Well, the people of Sweden yearned for a return of the line of old king Gustav Oxenstierna, but by the vows of her convent, his daughter Christina could not leave. So they instead proclaimed her infant son as King Karl von Hohenzollern of Sweden! Carrying his father's last name, so they say."
"Infant son? In a convent? What's all this about? How could this happen ...?"
"Christina?" Eberhard sat up abruptly upon hearing the name, "
Christina? CHRISTINA!!!"
"Hardy, just what, or rather
who the hell did you 'do' when you were in Sweden?"
Tell them we're not paying child support.
A letter.
To His Excellency Sovereign Guillaume von Wittelsbach of Hainaut,
His Majesty, King Zikmund van Henegouwen of Bohemia, wishes to congratulate your Excellency upon his receipt of the title of Elector of the Holy Roman Empire. His Majesty desires to celebrate the cordial relationship between our lands by attaching a small token of his appreciation, and would like to solicit your Excellency's support concerning the Imperial succession. In addition, His Majesty desires to deepen the ties between our lands by presenting your Excellency with the offer of a Military Alliance. His Majesty trusts that your Excellency will find this proposal most amenable.
Signed, the Chancellor of King Zikmund of Bohemia