Preface: This was my entry into the Paradox Short Story competition. I think the concept is solid, but that the story has some issues - it might be too focused on minutiae and apocryphal stuff, not enough on the central stuffs, probably some syntax/continuity issues. Any kind of critiques would be great so I can learn and become a better writer.
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The Fall of Constantinople in 1453 was the end of the Roman Empire and the Ottomans’ final victory over their longtime foe. Emperor Constantine XI Palaiologos had begged the Pope a year earlier for assistance, promising to let Pope Nicholaus V unite the Catholic and Orthodox churches. But with Europe in a state of disarray – the end of the Hundred Years’ War and an impending conclusion to the Reconquista, the failure of the Crusade of Varna in 1444 – only Venice and Genoa offered aid.
The Byzantines took measures to hold out in the upcoming siege long enough for foreign aid to arrive. They lasted one month before Ottoman cannons breached the walls.
Casimir IV Jagiellon was Grand Duke of Lithuania and King of Poland during that time, his brother King Wladyslaw III of Poland, Hungary, and Croatia dying in the Battle of Varna that Europa Universalis IV starts immediately after. Casimir took the Polish throne three years later. He married Elisabeth of Hapsburg in 1454, whose dowry was not immediately paid – grounds for claiming the crowns of both Hungary and Bohemia.
It was nearly twenty years before it was fully paid.
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The Crown Princess of Poland was troubled.
She sat in her study, an oaken chair creaking as she shifted in it. A single light shone from a lamp, illuminating the slender figure and red hair of Alexandra Jagiellon. She was pouring through her books, trying to focus on something, anything. Alexandra felt horribly ill and was ready to throw up if she hadn’t done so five minutes ago. The news he’d just received was too much for him to bear. Her father had fallen into a coma, and Alexandra would be elected queen soon.
A queen at last in 1914! She would be the first Polish queen in their nation’s history and only the second Jagiellon to rule in centuries. Along with her friends, Alexandria had always found the gossip about who would be elected next distasteful, though she might’ve been biased on that note. She had been frontrunner for most of her life.
Alexandra couldn’t bear to be with anyone. She did not believe herself ready. She was a scholar, not a ruler. But she could not refuse election. No, she would be a laughingstock, an abdicator. And the country needed a leader in these dark times.
She finally found a novel she hadn’t read recently in her stack. The Rise of Eastern Giants had been a gift from her father for her twentieth birthday. She wiped the dust off the jacket, thumbing the hardcover book open to one of the early chapters. Eastern Giants was a history novel, one focusing on the fifteenth century and beyond. Perhaps some ancient history could calm her nerves.
‘Following the Battle of Varna in 1444, Poland was left without a king. King Wladyslaw III, who had been offered the crowns of Hungary and Croatia, fell in the penultimate battle that ended the Crusade of Varna. The Hungarian lords gave their crowns to the nominal Duke of Austria, Ladislaus the Posthumous. The Ottomans were practically unchecked now; only the remnants of the Byzantine Empire were stopping them from further European encroachment.
‘After three years without a king, the Grand Duke of Lithuania Casimir IV Jagiellon succeeded his late brother Wladyslaw to take the Polish crown. The first years of his reign were focused on rebuilding his country. While the Crusade had not been fought on Polish lands, it had cost the kingdom most of its treasure and many of its senior military men. Casimir was more concerned about keeping Lithuania and Poland united in case of war with the Hapsburgs and their Holy Roman Empire or Ivan III, Grand Prince of Moscow.
‘It was not until 1452 that Casimir turned his attention to one of his kingly duties – ensuring he had an heir. He began negotiating a marriage between himself and Elisabeth of Habsburg, reaching an agreement the following year. Simultaneously, Casimir penned an agreement that later became known as the Wroclaw Accord – that if they felt the Ottomans were ready to threaten Europe once more, that the leaders of Eastern Europe would fight side by side.’
Alexandra smiled. Casimir’s diplomatic exploits were the stuff of Polish folklore. She remembered an old children’s story of Casimir tricking the devil himself out of a princess’s soul with only words and ancient Polish law. Alexandria started to read again a few pages later, where there was an excerpt from a journal one of Casimir’s advisors had kept.
‘Casimir held his strong chin in his hand as he stared at the envoys. Earlier that day he received word from the Count of Celje that he was finally interested in marrying off Elisabeth of Habsburg, daughter of Albert II, King of the Romans, to Casimir. He has been pursuing her ever since he knew she existed. Casimir believes that Elisabeth is key to stronger ties with Bohemia and Hungary.
‘When he rose from his throne to respond to the heralds, he admitted he had never anticipated this.
‘The Emperor of Byzantine Empire has sent men begging for assistance. He knows the Turks are coming, and fears that even if the Pope comes through and saves his Empire that he will be forever subservient to Rome.
‘Casimir told the men, “We have barely recovered from the Crusade. If the Pope will not send you aid, then what chance do you think Poland has?”
‘The men were lost for words, but they replied, “If Poland calls for aid, it will be answered.”
‘Casimir was stunned at what the men were suggesting. Casimir had never dreamed of calling upon the Wroclaw Accord, he had thought it a gesture to intimidate the Ottomans. But here was someone – no, a man of Constantine XI – telling him to do it.
‘He took me aside and asked me what I thought. I told him the truth: that if the Turks took Constantinople, that Serbia would not last as a buffer state. A fight with the Mohameddeans was inevitable, and the Greeks would be useful as a powerful buffer if nothing else.
‘I did not think he would agree to my words so quickly.’
Alexandra had heard from her father that Casimir had secretly been torn on the issue. While he wanted revenge for his brother’s death, he would not dare risk marching his forces alone against the Ottomans to repeat Varna. But the minister’s words reminded him that he was not alone.
Casimir called his fastest messengers to him later that day, asking them to send letters to Ladislaus the Posthumous, the Czech nobles of Bohemia, and one more person – Durad Brankovic, Despot of Serbia. Alexandra’s father claimed that the contents of the letters were lost to history. Whatever they said, men began to arrive before the year was out. He also sent the Byzantine men back in secret with a convoy of gold – enough pieces to help the near-bankrupt Greeks acquire the services of a Hungarian engineer named Orban.
She skipped ahead again. Alexandra had a feeling that the world would’ve been a much different place if Casimir had not come to the Emperor’s aide. Before the year was out, Constantinople had secretly constructed artillery using Polish funds and materials, placing them in hidden parts of the city walls. When the Ottomans unleashed their own crude cannons and called for the Emperor to surrender the city, the Emperor responded by telling the Sultan to go to hell and fired one of his superguns.
The blast was mostly for show, but it had an unintended effect. The cannon shot landed close enough to Sultan Mehmed II that he was knocked off his horse. His horse trampled him in a panic. Mehmed’s death was instant. The death of the Sultan cast a pall over the Turks, but the Sultan’s general insisted that they would take the city.
After a month, the Ottomans focused their cannons on a weak section of the city walls. Their general hoped that taking the city would restore his men’s morale and maintain stability long enough for a regent to be appointed for Mehmed II’s son.
When the Ottomans finally broke through the walls, they were greeted not only by what was left of the Byzantine Army, but a force led by Casimir and Constantine XI themselves. Within days, an army of twenty-five thousand Poles, Czechs, Hungarians, and Serbians with Durad at the fore arrived to join the battle. The Ottomans were trapped between the city they had lost their Sultan over and a fresh army.
Knowing that his men could not escape, the general surrendered. And so it was, the book explained, that when the general saw the victors he could scarcely believe it.
‘Zaganos Pasha was thrice devastated when he took a seat at the Emperor’s table. He had failed to protect the Sultan, failed to take Constantinople, and now he would fail his people. Seated across from him was an unlikely trio – Emperor Constantine XI – who was rapidly gaining the moniker ‘the Turk-Slayer’, King Casimir IV, and Despot Durad. Reports from Casimir’s future wife Elisabeth, who delayed their wedding to assist with the campaign, state that Constantine relished every moment of it.
‘Each ruler wanted something cut from the Ottomans’ hide, and with no clear successor Zaganos would serve the role reserved for his Sultan.
'Constantine wanted all of Greece and the Aegean Isles returned to the Empire. He had wanted more, wanted all of Anatolia as well. But Zaganos balked at the measure, as did Durad and Casimir. Durad did not want Byzantium to become too strong too quickly, and Casimir wanted the war to end – just months earlier, a Prussian Confederation had revolted against the Teutonic Order and requested incorporation into the Kingdom. He needed his men at home, not fighting a land war in Asia.
‘Durad wanted money. He was playing a longer game than Casimir had given him credit, reasoning that he would pour the money into strengthening his country. While Elisabeth never revealed how much Durad extorted from the Ottomans, she did concede that it would have “made a Venetian blush”. The money Durad received is credited with keeping Serbia economically viable for decades.
‘Casimir had struggled to come up with anything. He had been in this to avenge his brother, but revenge was not something he could brag about easily. So he settled for something else, something showing his genius at politics once more. He demanded the independence of Bulgaria and Armenia.
‘The Ottomans were struck odd by the demands, but agreed if only to escape with what they still had. It was only in hindsight that Durad and Constantine realized what Casimir had done. Serbia and Byzantium would have a harder time expanding with an independent Bulgaria led by a long-lost descendent of the legendary peasant-Tsar Ivaylo ‘The Radish’, whose battles with Vlad the Impaler during the Bulgarian conquest of Wallachia are now part of Bulgaria folklore.
‘The Greeks would also find in the coming years while retaking Asia Minor and parts of Mesopotamia that the Armenians would never again give up their independence to an Emperor or a Caliph. They had struck their own alliances with the Georgians and a breakaway Sultanate of Azerbaijan.
‘Durad would be furious, but Constantine was happy just to have the Empire survive. When Casimir was preparing to return home, Constantine offered to allow a priest to marry Casimir and Elisabeth in the Hagia Sophia. Casimir declined. He then offered a long term military alliance should Poland ever be threatened, which he accepted.
‘Upon returning to Krakow, he married Elisabeth the next day in a ceremony so massive a national holiday was officially declared in its honor in 1775. But one thing nagged at Casimir the following day. He still had not received Elisabeth’s dowry, and he was in debt from financing Byzantium’s resurrection.’
Alexandra read on that Casimir would eventually succeed in his efforts to oust the Teutonic Order from Prussia after a war that lasted thirteen years, further strengthening Poland. But Casimir was still not satisfied. While the issue of his debt would be solved within three years, he felt stiffed by the Hapsburgs. He quietly resolved to get Elisabeth’s dowry through any means necessary... and in any form he could get it.
He would not have to wait long. Frustrated by the presence of a resurgent Bulgaria, Durad had turned west. He had annexed the Kingdom of Bosnia in 1456 and forged a claim on the Croatian crown, trying to usurp it in 1466. Ladislaus – who had now been recognized by the Czech nobility as the rightful King of Bohemia – was furious at the Serbian Despot, asking Casimir for aid. During the same time, Durad himself approached Casimir and claimed that fighting the Hapsburgs was the only way he would ever get the ten thousand gold pieces he had been promised.
When Casimir spoke to his wife that night, she told him in no uncertain terms that her loyalties lied with him, and not the house of her fathers. The following day, Poland declared war on Austria.
‘Casimir claimed that the belatedness of Elisabeth’s dowry gave him the right to claim Hungary and Bohemia for himself. What worried many Austrians wasn’t Casimir – who they feared wanted to restore his brother’s three crowns – but Casimir’s wife. While Elisabeth had promised to renounce her claims on Austria upon marrying Casimir, she would not have to do so if Ladislaus had no issue. Ladislaus knew that he was one ‘accident’ away from Elisabeth starting a succession crisis.
‘It is true that Casimir was entitled to all of those crowns and land, but records showed that Casimir was never serious about his claim to the Bohemian crown or about Elisabeth’s claim to Austria. The way Casimir is said to have justified it to his court he did not want to live in his brother’s memory. Similar to his decision to back the Byzantines in their time of need, he wanted to create something lasting.
‘The ferocity of the Polish-Serbian offensive caught Ladislaus by surprise, who begged Emperor Frederick III of the Holy Roman Empire – also a Hapsburg – to intervene. He had quietly hoped Ladislaus could handle things while he dealt with other revolts within the Empire, but kept his eye on the situation.
‘It was not until the Polish and Serbian armies had laid siege to Vienna that the Emperor made his move. A message was received by both Kings, warning them that Austria was a member of the Holy Roman Empire and attempting to claim it for themselves would force him to declare war on both their nations. Knowing that they could not hope to survive against the full might of the Germans, they decided to negotiate.
‘Frederick was not happy about any part of this. While he knew he was partly to blame for not ensuring Casimir received the dowry, he also knew in secret that Ladislaus was starting to grow ill. Knowing that he stood to inherit Austria when Ladislaus died, he wanted to secure what was his while things were stable within the Empire; he’d do it even if he had to cut Ladislaus’s legs out from under him.
‘The Emperor presented the Despot and the King with an offer that he knew they could not refuse. Durad would be named King of the Croatians, while the Hungarian crown would return to the Jagiellon dynasty. But the deal would only work if Elisabeth gave up her claim to Austria forever and if Casimir accept the crown as payment of Elisabeth’s dowry. The alternative was fighting Frederick, who had an army twice the size of the Polish-Serbian force arriving in two days.
‘Durad was greedy, but he was not stupid. Casimir could not help but admire Frederick’s ploy. But both men accepted, and on October 15th, 1466, the War of the Three Crowns was over.
‘It was the last military campaign either man would lead.
‘Durad declared all three crowns to be united into one; the King of Croats, Bosnians, and Serbs would now be the King of Yugoslavia – a state for all Southern Slavic people. While it was one in name only with Bulgaria enjoying its independence, Yugoslavia shocked the world by staying united after Durad’s death two months later. At eighty-nine years of age, Durad the Uniter is still the oldest ruler in Yugoslavian history.
‘Casimir wanted to move against Moscow, but pressure from Polish and Lithuanian nobility stopped him from raising a sufficient army. Hungarian lords were furious at being handed back to the Pole as a consolation prize, and Casimir had to dedicate most of the remainder of his time as King integrating the Hungarians into Polish rule. In 1492, he suffered a fatal heart attack while watching Polish and Hungarian cavalrymen be instructed by Serbian veterans from the War of the Three Crowns. His coffin was carried to its resting place by the first winged hussars.’
Alexandra put her book down as someone knocked on her door. Stepping into the room was a tall, bald Bulgarian man in a dapper suit, nervously adjusting his tie. “Alexandra,” he greeted. He gestured with an old newspaper as he approached her. “I came as quickly as I could. How is he?”
“He won’t survive the night Mr. President,” she admitted. “Everything’s going to hell. Dad’s dying and the Russians are starting to mobilize.”
The man frowned. The Russians never missed an opportunity. “Princess, you know where the People’s Republic of Bulgaria stands. In our eyes, Poland and Bulgaria have been comrades ever since we were freed from the Turkish yoke. If Russia declares war, we shall stand with you.”
Alexandra considered the state of things absurd. Bulgaria had become an international pariah after accepting the teachings of Karl Marx. Marx had come to Tarnovo after the Bulgarian Tsar promised that Marx could continue his publications on politics. She suspected that the Bulgarian royals had always been sympathetic to the socialists, considering Ivalyo himself had started life as a peasant.
The Bulgarian President picked up Alexandra’s book, checking which part she’d been studying. “I see you’re burying yourself in your books again. If I might be candid with Your Highness?”
“...You may.” Royal protocol was always such a pain.
“That is a response for a child,” he told Alexandria. “Perhaps a Princess. But never a Queen.” The President smiled, handing Alexandria back her book. “I’m sorry for your father. He never did have a decent sense of timing, did he.”
The President unfurled the old paper onto Alexandria’s desk. The front page read in bold letters in Bulgarian, ‘Austria-Bohemian Archduke Assassinated, Italian Nationalists Blamed’. Alexandra groaned at the hellish coincidence. “I take it the Italians couldn’t accede to the Austrian demands?”
“When the demands are essentially ‘submit or die’? Never. No nation with any dignity would agree to those demands.” The President took a seat in a chipped wooden chair. “So the Russians and the Slavs are ready to march?”
Alexandria nodded. “I don’t know what to do. I just... I’ll figure it out when I’m in charge. I just need to calm myself down.” She flipped ahead in Rise of the Eastern Giants.
The President looked disappointed, but let her continue. It would stop soon enough. Alexandria in the meanwhile had jumped forward several chapters.
‘By the late sixteenth century, Poland was teetering on the brink of civil war. It had already suffered a humiliating defeat at the hands of a German-Austrian alliance that had stripped it of half of Hungary and parts of Prussia. Now the Hungarians, who had never fully accepted Polish rule, were speaking of open revolt against the Poles. To make matters worse, relations with Lithuania had soured immediately after Casimir’s death.
‘His sons, John I Albert and Alexander, had continued Casimir’s policy of trying to appease the Hungarians, at the cost of alienating both groups. Their policies had resulted in a united Russia under Ivan the Terrible forcing Lithuania to surrender a then-third of its territory in the Russo-Lithuanian War.
‘During the signing of the peace treaty, Ivan the Terrible complimented the Lithuanian generals on their tactics. The bloodiness of the war is credited with slowing down Russian expansion long enough for the Japanese to colonize the ‘Russian Far East’ and ‘Alaska’ – see Chapter 8 for the First Russo-Japanese War. These territories are still contested to this day.
‘Neither John nor Alexander lasted ten years. John I Albert left the royal family in debt after personally funding joint Scots-Polish expeditions to the New World. Said expeditions led to the formation of Elisabethland in 1500 and Caledonia in 1501, Poland and Scotland’s first colonies in the New World. While his colonial ventures would eventually become profitable under his successors and they served as the beginnings of Scottish and Polish overseas holdings, the short term costs were quite costly. See Chapter 9 for further discussion on Polish, Byzantine, and Russian efforts to create colonies.
‘Alexander was wiser with the crown’s money, and eventually earned back all the gold John had spent. But Alexander became highly unpopular after admitting he held a fascination for the old gods the Polish worshiped before converting to Christianity. He was killed by Polish Catholics while meeting with cult leaders that still followed the old ways.
And while Sigismund I ‘the Old’ had been as skilled a ruler as his father Casimir, even he could not do much more than tread water. Poland’s colonial ventures finally became profitable during his reign, which helped him justify further Scots-Polish ventures in South America and later, Asia. When he died in 1548, all his hopes rested with a son that shared his name.
‘The Polish and Hungarian crowns, as well as the title of Grand Duke of Lithuania, now rested with Sigismund II. The only child of Sigismund I to become king, he knew that if things continued as they were, Poland would find itself in an ever tightening vice between the Germans, the Austrians, and the Russians. He resolved to his father on his deathbed that he would challenge the dice roll fate had granted.
‘During his coronation, he suffered an accident that impaired his ability to have a child. While he managed to have a son twelve years later, he had to consider what was best for the future of his nation.
‘In 1563, he called forth a grand meeting between the nobles of all ethnicities to meet in Lublin. Gathered there were lords of Poland, Lithuania, and Hungary – and also the Prussians, the Slovaks, and Ruthenians (now known as Ukrainians). All were concerned about impending Polish dominance, and many Prussians were concerned that Sigismund II might officially side with the Pope on the question of the Protestant Reformation.
‘What followed were months of intense negotiations, the likes of which had never been seen in Europe and would never be seen again until the English and Dutch North American colonies united for the War of American Independence in 1776. Sigismund II had put forth a bold series of proposals designed to reform the Kingdom into one unified Polish Commonwealth. He also stipulated that membership within required ‘the respectment of religion between the Catholics, the Orthodox, the Moslims, and all those who call themselves by other names’.
‘Such a scale of religious tolerance was not new to the Poles, dating back to the Statute of the Kalisz in the thirteenth century for the large Jewish population. What was new was the veil of official approval. Codifying such tolerance drew the Pope’s disdain, but Sigismund never wavered for one reason.
‘He claimed six months into the proceedings that the supposed Commonwealth could not hope to maintain religious or ethnic purity as it stood. It was then that he made his great gamble. The Kingdom would be separated into a number of separate states, ones where the ethnicities could be more unified. In exchange for this concession, all of the states would swear allegiance to one King elected by the lords of those states.
‘The Polish nobles were outraged at the thought of treating the Ruthenians as equals, and the other leaders were shocked that Sigismund II was willing to give up some of the crown’s power. But all arguments ceased when word came that the Russians had declared war once again.
‘It was in that moment the lords could see the hell Sigismund predicted. To live under the Russian’s boot or the German’s or the Austrian’s seemed just as bad as their current position. If only to survive the Russians, they agreed to unite under Sigismund’s rule. The Union of Lublin was then etched forever into Polish lore, the moment bickering lords united to repel an existential threat.
‘The truth was not so black and white. Sigismund had been provoking the ‘Russian bear’ in secret ever since he invited the lords to Lublin. He suspected that if his words could not save Poland, then a threat to unite against could. So it was that Sigismund turned a minor border skirmish into the threat of an impending invasion, and thus started a Forty Years War – a last, destructive war the likes of which were only rivalled by era of Napoleon.’
Alexandra put down the book. The Forty Years War and the Napoleonic Wars had cemented Europe in its ways, but broken parts of it too. Webs of alliances were strung together in desperation to stop the French, and those alliances hung over them all like the sword of Damocles. It was that threat of an even greater war that kept the nations of Europe from fighting any further. There was balance. England and Ireland against the Auld Alliance of France and a Scotland revitalized from its colonial empire. The Bulgarians against the Yugoslavians. Byzantium and Poland against the Russians. Scandinavia continued to play the Holy Roman Empire and Russia against each other after Denmark united Norway and Sweden under a permanent Kalmar Union. And the Holy Roman Empire itself was against anyone that looked at it strange.
But the tides of nationalism could not be commanded to recede. The Holy Roman Empire fell under the weight of nationalists and Otto von Bismarck’s genius, reviving in not a Roman kingdom but one fit for a German Kaiser. The free Italian states finally united under a nation of their own, thousands of redshirts storming against all who stood in their way. Those two nations cared not for any balance, only to unite their own people.
That nationalism led an Italian nationalist group to assassinate Archduke Ferdinand of Austria-Bohemia. Now Europe was quickly splitting in half. The Germans were backing Austria-Bohemia, as were the Yugoslavs. With the Germans marching toward France and the Belgians allowing safe passage in exchange for a guarantee of independence, the Scottish were preparing to enter as well. The British and the Irish claimed neutrality, though Alexandria knew they sympathized with the Germans. The Scandanavians were itching to take a bite out of the Russians, wanting to add Finland to its union.
And of course, the United States, Mexico, Elisabethland, and Caledonia all wanted to focus on their side of the world.
That left the old Eastern bloc of the Polish Commonwealth, the People’s Republic of Bulgaria, and the ancient Eastern Roman Empire.
A woman came to the door now, dressed in the regal purple robes of the Romans. Empress Maryanna of the East Roman Empire had come. She bowed out of respect to the Bulgarian President before turning to Alexandria. “Your father has gone to meet God. The Archbishop of Gnienzo and the Enumencial Patriarch read him his last rites together.”
With her stood one of her father’s advisors. “Your Majesty.” Noblemen and woman of all kinds from the Commonwealth all filed into her study. An elderly man in a simple black shirt and priest’s collar entered last, carrying a crown that Alexandria had seen only once in her life.
The Archbishop of Gnienzo smiled. “The most noble Succesionary Council has met, and with the guidance of the heavens elected you as Queen of our Commonwealth.”
Alexandria stood from her seat, numbly planting one foot before another. She stood toe to toe with the archbishop, kneeling. “I-I accept the Council’s election. God save the Commonwealth.” A grave cry of ‘God save the Commonwealth’ followed from all the nobles, silence crashing over them all.
A younger man burst into the room, breaking their solemn silence. “Your Majesty!” Everyone turned to the young man, glasses crooked and panting deeply. “Y-Your Majesty. We’ve intercepted a telegram from the Russians to the Germans. The Russians will declare war within a week. There’s talk of a partition.”
The word made every Polish man and woman’s blood run cold. Partition. The worst fears of Sigismund II were coming to pass.
Alexandria stiffened, no longer shaking. She sighed deeply. “Call King Malcolm III of the Scots and tell him that I hope they’ll serve us beer in hell.” Then she turned to the Bulgarian President and Empress Maryanna. “Poland calls for aid.”
This was her time now. This was the time of Queen Alexandra Jagiellon, in a time of a world at war...
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The Fall of Constantinople in 1453 was the end of the Roman Empire and the Ottomans’ final victory over their longtime foe. Emperor Constantine XI Palaiologos had begged the Pope a year earlier for assistance, promising to let Pope Nicholaus V unite the Catholic and Orthodox churches. But with Europe in a state of disarray – the end of the Hundred Years’ War and an impending conclusion to the Reconquista, the failure of the Crusade of Varna in 1444 – only Venice and Genoa offered aid.
The Byzantines took measures to hold out in the upcoming siege long enough for foreign aid to arrive. They lasted one month before Ottoman cannons breached the walls.
Casimir IV Jagiellon was Grand Duke of Lithuania and King of Poland during that time, his brother King Wladyslaw III of Poland, Hungary, and Croatia dying in the Battle of Varna that Europa Universalis IV starts immediately after. Casimir took the Polish throne three years later. He married Elisabeth of Hapsburg in 1454, whose dowry was not immediately paid – grounds for claiming the crowns of both Hungary and Bohemia.
It was nearly twenty years before it was fully paid.
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White Eagle, Tyrian Purple
The Crown Princess of Poland was troubled.
She sat in her study, an oaken chair creaking as she shifted in it. A single light shone from a lamp, illuminating the slender figure and red hair of Alexandra Jagiellon. She was pouring through her books, trying to focus on something, anything. Alexandra felt horribly ill and was ready to throw up if she hadn’t done so five minutes ago. The news he’d just received was too much for him to bear. Her father had fallen into a coma, and Alexandra would be elected queen soon.
A queen at last in 1914! She would be the first Polish queen in their nation’s history and only the second Jagiellon to rule in centuries. Along with her friends, Alexandria had always found the gossip about who would be elected next distasteful, though she might’ve been biased on that note. She had been frontrunner for most of her life.
Alexandra couldn’t bear to be with anyone. She did not believe herself ready. She was a scholar, not a ruler. But she could not refuse election. No, she would be a laughingstock, an abdicator. And the country needed a leader in these dark times.
She finally found a novel she hadn’t read recently in her stack. The Rise of Eastern Giants had been a gift from her father for her twentieth birthday. She wiped the dust off the jacket, thumbing the hardcover book open to one of the early chapters. Eastern Giants was a history novel, one focusing on the fifteenth century and beyond. Perhaps some ancient history could calm her nerves.
‘Following the Battle of Varna in 1444, Poland was left without a king. King Wladyslaw III, who had been offered the crowns of Hungary and Croatia, fell in the penultimate battle that ended the Crusade of Varna. The Hungarian lords gave their crowns to the nominal Duke of Austria, Ladislaus the Posthumous. The Ottomans were practically unchecked now; only the remnants of the Byzantine Empire were stopping them from further European encroachment.
‘After three years without a king, the Grand Duke of Lithuania Casimir IV Jagiellon succeeded his late brother Wladyslaw to take the Polish crown. The first years of his reign were focused on rebuilding his country. While the Crusade had not been fought on Polish lands, it had cost the kingdom most of its treasure and many of its senior military men. Casimir was more concerned about keeping Lithuania and Poland united in case of war with the Hapsburgs and their Holy Roman Empire or Ivan III, Grand Prince of Moscow.
‘It was not until 1452 that Casimir turned his attention to one of his kingly duties – ensuring he had an heir. He began negotiating a marriage between himself and Elisabeth of Habsburg, reaching an agreement the following year. Simultaneously, Casimir penned an agreement that later became known as the Wroclaw Accord – that if they felt the Ottomans were ready to threaten Europe once more, that the leaders of Eastern Europe would fight side by side.’
Alexandra smiled. Casimir’s diplomatic exploits were the stuff of Polish folklore. She remembered an old children’s story of Casimir tricking the devil himself out of a princess’s soul with only words and ancient Polish law. Alexandria started to read again a few pages later, where there was an excerpt from a journal one of Casimir’s advisors had kept.
‘Casimir held his strong chin in his hand as he stared at the envoys. Earlier that day he received word from the Count of Celje that he was finally interested in marrying off Elisabeth of Habsburg, daughter of Albert II, King of the Romans, to Casimir. He has been pursuing her ever since he knew she existed. Casimir believes that Elisabeth is key to stronger ties with Bohemia and Hungary.
‘When he rose from his throne to respond to the heralds, he admitted he had never anticipated this.
‘The Emperor of Byzantine Empire has sent men begging for assistance. He knows the Turks are coming, and fears that even if the Pope comes through and saves his Empire that he will be forever subservient to Rome.
‘Casimir told the men, “We have barely recovered from the Crusade. If the Pope will not send you aid, then what chance do you think Poland has?”
‘The men were lost for words, but they replied, “If Poland calls for aid, it will be answered.”
‘Casimir was stunned at what the men were suggesting. Casimir had never dreamed of calling upon the Wroclaw Accord, he had thought it a gesture to intimidate the Ottomans. But here was someone – no, a man of Constantine XI – telling him to do it.
‘He took me aside and asked me what I thought. I told him the truth: that if the Turks took Constantinople, that Serbia would not last as a buffer state. A fight with the Mohameddeans was inevitable, and the Greeks would be useful as a powerful buffer if nothing else.
‘I did not think he would agree to my words so quickly.’
Alexandra had heard from her father that Casimir had secretly been torn on the issue. While he wanted revenge for his brother’s death, he would not dare risk marching his forces alone against the Ottomans to repeat Varna. But the minister’s words reminded him that he was not alone.
Casimir called his fastest messengers to him later that day, asking them to send letters to Ladislaus the Posthumous, the Czech nobles of Bohemia, and one more person – Durad Brankovic, Despot of Serbia. Alexandra’s father claimed that the contents of the letters were lost to history. Whatever they said, men began to arrive before the year was out. He also sent the Byzantine men back in secret with a convoy of gold – enough pieces to help the near-bankrupt Greeks acquire the services of a Hungarian engineer named Orban.
She skipped ahead again. Alexandra had a feeling that the world would’ve been a much different place if Casimir had not come to the Emperor’s aide. Before the year was out, Constantinople had secretly constructed artillery using Polish funds and materials, placing them in hidden parts of the city walls. When the Ottomans unleashed their own crude cannons and called for the Emperor to surrender the city, the Emperor responded by telling the Sultan to go to hell and fired one of his superguns.
The blast was mostly for show, but it had an unintended effect. The cannon shot landed close enough to Sultan Mehmed II that he was knocked off his horse. His horse trampled him in a panic. Mehmed’s death was instant. The death of the Sultan cast a pall over the Turks, but the Sultan’s general insisted that they would take the city.
After a month, the Ottomans focused their cannons on a weak section of the city walls. Their general hoped that taking the city would restore his men’s morale and maintain stability long enough for a regent to be appointed for Mehmed II’s son.
When the Ottomans finally broke through the walls, they were greeted not only by what was left of the Byzantine Army, but a force led by Casimir and Constantine XI themselves. Within days, an army of twenty-five thousand Poles, Czechs, Hungarians, and Serbians with Durad at the fore arrived to join the battle. The Ottomans were trapped between the city they had lost their Sultan over and a fresh army.
Knowing that his men could not escape, the general surrendered. And so it was, the book explained, that when the general saw the victors he could scarcely believe it.
‘Zaganos Pasha was thrice devastated when he took a seat at the Emperor’s table. He had failed to protect the Sultan, failed to take Constantinople, and now he would fail his people. Seated across from him was an unlikely trio – Emperor Constantine XI – who was rapidly gaining the moniker ‘the Turk-Slayer’, King Casimir IV, and Despot Durad. Reports from Casimir’s future wife Elisabeth, who delayed their wedding to assist with the campaign, state that Constantine relished every moment of it.
‘Each ruler wanted something cut from the Ottomans’ hide, and with no clear successor Zaganos would serve the role reserved for his Sultan.
'Constantine wanted all of Greece and the Aegean Isles returned to the Empire. He had wanted more, wanted all of Anatolia as well. But Zaganos balked at the measure, as did Durad and Casimir. Durad did not want Byzantium to become too strong too quickly, and Casimir wanted the war to end – just months earlier, a Prussian Confederation had revolted against the Teutonic Order and requested incorporation into the Kingdom. He needed his men at home, not fighting a land war in Asia.
‘Durad wanted money. He was playing a longer game than Casimir had given him credit, reasoning that he would pour the money into strengthening his country. While Elisabeth never revealed how much Durad extorted from the Ottomans, she did concede that it would have “made a Venetian blush”. The money Durad received is credited with keeping Serbia economically viable for decades.
‘Casimir had struggled to come up with anything. He had been in this to avenge his brother, but revenge was not something he could brag about easily. So he settled for something else, something showing his genius at politics once more. He demanded the independence of Bulgaria and Armenia.
‘The Ottomans were struck odd by the demands, but agreed if only to escape with what they still had. It was only in hindsight that Durad and Constantine realized what Casimir had done. Serbia and Byzantium would have a harder time expanding with an independent Bulgaria led by a long-lost descendent of the legendary peasant-Tsar Ivaylo ‘The Radish’, whose battles with Vlad the Impaler during the Bulgarian conquest of Wallachia are now part of Bulgaria folklore.
‘The Greeks would also find in the coming years while retaking Asia Minor and parts of Mesopotamia that the Armenians would never again give up their independence to an Emperor or a Caliph. They had struck their own alliances with the Georgians and a breakaway Sultanate of Azerbaijan.
‘Durad would be furious, but Constantine was happy just to have the Empire survive. When Casimir was preparing to return home, Constantine offered to allow a priest to marry Casimir and Elisabeth in the Hagia Sophia. Casimir declined. He then offered a long term military alliance should Poland ever be threatened, which he accepted.
‘Upon returning to Krakow, he married Elisabeth the next day in a ceremony so massive a national holiday was officially declared in its honor in 1775. But one thing nagged at Casimir the following day. He still had not received Elisabeth’s dowry, and he was in debt from financing Byzantium’s resurrection.’
Alexandra read on that Casimir would eventually succeed in his efforts to oust the Teutonic Order from Prussia after a war that lasted thirteen years, further strengthening Poland. But Casimir was still not satisfied. While the issue of his debt would be solved within three years, he felt stiffed by the Hapsburgs. He quietly resolved to get Elisabeth’s dowry through any means necessary... and in any form he could get it.
He would not have to wait long. Frustrated by the presence of a resurgent Bulgaria, Durad had turned west. He had annexed the Kingdom of Bosnia in 1456 and forged a claim on the Croatian crown, trying to usurp it in 1466. Ladislaus – who had now been recognized by the Czech nobility as the rightful King of Bohemia – was furious at the Serbian Despot, asking Casimir for aid. During the same time, Durad himself approached Casimir and claimed that fighting the Hapsburgs was the only way he would ever get the ten thousand gold pieces he had been promised.
When Casimir spoke to his wife that night, she told him in no uncertain terms that her loyalties lied with him, and not the house of her fathers. The following day, Poland declared war on Austria.
‘Casimir claimed that the belatedness of Elisabeth’s dowry gave him the right to claim Hungary and Bohemia for himself. What worried many Austrians wasn’t Casimir – who they feared wanted to restore his brother’s three crowns – but Casimir’s wife. While Elisabeth had promised to renounce her claims on Austria upon marrying Casimir, she would not have to do so if Ladislaus had no issue. Ladislaus knew that he was one ‘accident’ away from Elisabeth starting a succession crisis.
‘It is true that Casimir was entitled to all of those crowns and land, but records showed that Casimir was never serious about his claim to the Bohemian crown or about Elisabeth’s claim to Austria. The way Casimir is said to have justified it to his court he did not want to live in his brother’s memory. Similar to his decision to back the Byzantines in their time of need, he wanted to create something lasting.
‘The ferocity of the Polish-Serbian offensive caught Ladislaus by surprise, who begged Emperor Frederick III of the Holy Roman Empire – also a Hapsburg – to intervene. He had quietly hoped Ladislaus could handle things while he dealt with other revolts within the Empire, but kept his eye on the situation.
‘It was not until the Polish and Serbian armies had laid siege to Vienna that the Emperor made his move. A message was received by both Kings, warning them that Austria was a member of the Holy Roman Empire and attempting to claim it for themselves would force him to declare war on both their nations. Knowing that they could not hope to survive against the full might of the Germans, they decided to negotiate.
‘Frederick was not happy about any part of this. While he knew he was partly to blame for not ensuring Casimir received the dowry, he also knew in secret that Ladislaus was starting to grow ill. Knowing that he stood to inherit Austria when Ladislaus died, he wanted to secure what was his while things were stable within the Empire; he’d do it even if he had to cut Ladislaus’s legs out from under him.
‘The Emperor presented the Despot and the King with an offer that he knew they could not refuse. Durad would be named King of the Croatians, while the Hungarian crown would return to the Jagiellon dynasty. But the deal would only work if Elisabeth gave up her claim to Austria forever and if Casimir accept the crown as payment of Elisabeth’s dowry. The alternative was fighting Frederick, who had an army twice the size of the Polish-Serbian force arriving in two days.
‘Durad was greedy, but he was not stupid. Casimir could not help but admire Frederick’s ploy. But both men accepted, and on October 15th, 1466, the War of the Three Crowns was over.
‘It was the last military campaign either man would lead.
‘Durad declared all three crowns to be united into one; the King of Croats, Bosnians, and Serbs would now be the King of Yugoslavia – a state for all Southern Slavic people. While it was one in name only with Bulgaria enjoying its independence, Yugoslavia shocked the world by staying united after Durad’s death two months later. At eighty-nine years of age, Durad the Uniter is still the oldest ruler in Yugoslavian history.
‘Casimir wanted to move against Moscow, but pressure from Polish and Lithuanian nobility stopped him from raising a sufficient army. Hungarian lords were furious at being handed back to the Pole as a consolation prize, and Casimir had to dedicate most of the remainder of his time as King integrating the Hungarians into Polish rule. In 1492, he suffered a fatal heart attack while watching Polish and Hungarian cavalrymen be instructed by Serbian veterans from the War of the Three Crowns. His coffin was carried to its resting place by the first winged hussars.’
Alexandra put her book down as someone knocked on her door. Stepping into the room was a tall, bald Bulgarian man in a dapper suit, nervously adjusting his tie. “Alexandra,” he greeted. He gestured with an old newspaper as he approached her. “I came as quickly as I could. How is he?”
“He won’t survive the night Mr. President,” she admitted. “Everything’s going to hell. Dad’s dying and the Russians are starting to mobilize.”
The man frowned. The Russians never missed an opportunity. “Princess, you know where the People’s Republic of Bulgaria stands. In our eyes, Poland and Bulgaria have been comrades ever since we were freed from the Turkish yoke. If Russia declares war, we shall stand with you.”
Alexandra considered the state of things absurd. Bulgaria had become an international pariah after accepting the teachings of Karl Marx. Marx had come to Tarnovo after the Bulgarian Tsar promised that Marx could continue his publications on politics. She suspected that the Bulgarian royals had always been sympathetic to the socialists, considering Ivalyo himself had started life as a peasant.
The Bulgarian President picked up Alexandra’s book, checking which part she’d been studying. “I see you’re burying yourself in your books again. If I might be candid with Your Highness?”
“...You may.” Royal protocol was always such a pain.
“That is a response for a child,” he told Alexandria. “Perhaps a Princess. But never a Queen.” The President smiled, handing Alexandria back her book. “I’m sorry for your father. He never did have a decent sense of timing, did he.”
The President unfurled the old paper onto Alexandria’s desk. The front page read in bold letters in Bulgarian, ‘Austria-Bohemian Archduke Assassinated, Italian Nationalists Blamed’. Alexandra groaned at the hellish coincidence. “I take it the Italians couldn’t accede to the Austrian demands?”
“When the demands are essentially ‘submit or die’? Never. No nation with any dignity would agree to those demands.” The President took a seat in a chipped wooden chair. “So the Russians and the Slavs are ready to march?”
Alexandria nodded. “I don’t know what to do. I just... I’ll figure it out when I’m in charge. I just need to calm myself down.” She flipped ahead in Rise of the Eastern Giants.
The President looked disappointed, but let her continue. It would stop soon enough. Alexandria in the meanwhile had jumped forward several chapters.
‘By the late sixteenth century, Poland was teetering on the brink of civil war. It had already suffered a humiliating defeat at the hands of a German-Austrian alliance that had stripped it of half of Hungary and parts of Prussia. Now the Hungarians, who had never fully accepted Polish rule, were speaking of open revolt against the Poles. To make matters worse, relations with Lithuania had soured immediately after Casimir’s death.
‘His sons, John I Albert and Alexander, had continued Casimir’s policy of trying to appease the Hungarians, at the cost of alienating both groups. Their policies had resulted in a united Russia under Ivan the Terrible forcing Lithuania to surrender a then-third of its territory in the Russo-Lithuanian War.
‘During the signing of the peace treaty, Ivan the Terrible complimented the Lithuanian generals on their tactics. The bloodiness of the war is credited with slowing down Russian expansion long enough for the Japanese to colonize the ‘Russian Far East’ and ‘Alaska’ – see Chapter 8 for the First Russo-Japanese War. These territories are still contested to this day.
‘Neither John nor Alexander lasted ten years. John I Albert left the royal family in debt after personally funding joint Scots-Polish expeditions to the New World. Said expeditions led to the formation of Elisabethland in 1500 and Caledonia in 1501, Poland and Scotland’s first colonies in the New World. While his colonial ventures would eventually become profitable under his successors and they served as the beginnings of Scottish and Polish overseas holdings, the short term costs were quite costly. See Chapter 9 for further discussion on Polish, Byzantine, and Russian efforts to create colonies.
‘Alexander was wiser with the crown’s money, and eventually earned back all the gold John had spent. But Alexander became highly unpopular after admitting he held a fascination for the old gods the Polish worshiped before converting to Christianity. He was killed by Polish Catholics while meeting with cult leaders that still followed the old ways.
And while Sigismund I ‘the Old’ had been as skilled a ruler as his father Casimir, even he could not do much more than tread water. Poland’s colonial ventures finally became profitable during his reign, which helped him justify further Scots-Polish ventures in South America and later, Asia. When he died in 1548, all his hopes rested with a son that shared his name.
‘The Polish and Hungarian crowns, as well as the title of Grand Duke of Lithuania, now rested with Sigismund II. The only child of Sigismund I to become king, he knew that if things continued as they were, Poland would find itself in an ever tightening vice between the Germans, the Austrians, and the Russians. He resolved to his father on his deathbed that he would challenge the dice roll fate had granted.
‘During his coronation, he suffered an accident that impaired his ability to have a child. While he managed to have a son twelve years later, he had to consider what was best for the future of his nation.
‘In 1563, he called forth a grand meeting between the nobles of all ethnicities to meet in Lublin. Gathered there were lords of Poland, Lithuania, and Hungary – and also the Prussians, the Slovaks, and Ruthenians (now known as Ukrainians). All were concerned about impending Polish dominance, and many Prussians were concerned that Sigismund II might officially side with the Pope on the question of the Protestant Reformation.
‘What followed were months of intense negotiations, the likes of which had never been seen in Europe and would never be seen again until the English and Dutch North American colonies united for the War of American Independence in 1776. Sigismund II had put forth a bold series of proposals designed to reform the Kingdom into one unified Polish Commonwealth. He also stipulated that membership within required ‘the respectment of religion between the Catholics, the Orthodox, the Moslims, and all those who call themselves by other names’.
‘Such a scale of religious tolerance was not new to the Poles, dating back to the Statute of the Kalisz in the thirteenth century for the large Jewish population. What was new was the veil of official approval. Codifying such tolerance drew the Pope’s disdain, but Sigismund never wavered for one reason.
‘He claimed six months into the proceedings that the supposed Commonwealth could not hope to maintain religious or ethnic purity as it stood. It was then that he made his great gamble. The Kingdom would be separated into a number of separate states, ones where the ethnicities could be more unified. In exchange for this concession, all of the states would swear allegiance to one King elected by the lords of those states.
‘The Polish nobles were outraged at the thought of treating the Ruthenians as equals, and the other leaders were shocked that Sigismund II was willing to give up some of the crown’s power. But all arguments ceased when word came that the Russians had declared war once again.
‘It was in that moment the lords could see the hell Sigismund predicted. To live under the Russian’s boot or the German’s or the Austrian’s seemed just as bad as their current position. If only to survive the Russians, they agreed to unite under Sigismund’s rule. The Union of Lublin was then etched forever into Polish lore, the moment bickering lords united to repel an existential threat.
‘The truth was not so black and white. Sigismund had been provoking the ‘Russian bear’ in secret ever since he invited the lords to Lublin. He suspected that if his words could not save Poland, then a threat to unite against could. So it was that Sigismund turned a minor border skirmish into the threat of an impending invasion, and thus started a Forty Years War – a last, destructive war the likes of which were only rivalled by era of Napoleon.’
Alexandra put down the book. The Forty Years War and the Napoleonic Wars had cemented Europe in its ways, but broken parts of it too. Webs of alliances were strung together in desperation to stop the French, and those alliances hung over them all like the sword of Damocles. It was that threat of an even greater war that kept the nations of Europe from fighting any further. There was balance. England and Ireland against the Auld Alliance of France and a Scotland revitalized from its colonial empire. The Bulgarians against the Yugoslavians. Byzantium and Poland against the Russians. Scandinavia continued to play the Holy Roman Empire and Russia against each other after Denmark united Norway and Sweden under a permanent Kalmar Union. And the Holy Roman Empire itself was against anyone that looked at it strange.
But the tides of nationalism could not be commanded to recede. The Holy Roman Empire fell under the weight of nationalists and Otto von Bismarck’s genius, reviving in not a Roman kingdom but one fit for a German Kaiser. The free Italian states finally united under a nation of their own, thousands of redshirts storming against all who stood in their way. Those two nations cared not for any balance, only to unite their own people.
That nationalism led an Italian nationalist group to assassinate Archduke Ferdinand of Austria-Bohemia. Now Europe was quickly splitting in half. The Germans were backing Austria-Bohemia, as were the Yugoslavs. With the Germans marching toward France and the Belgians allowing safe passage in exchange for a guarantee of independence, the Scottish were preparing to enter as well. The British and the Irish claimed neutrality, though Alexandria knew they sympathized with the Germans. The Scandanavians were itching to take a bite out of the Russians, wanting to add Finland to its union.
And of course, the United States, Mexico, Elisabethland, and Caledonia all wanted to focus on their side of the world.
That left the old Eastern bloc of the Polish Commonwealth, the People’s Republic of Bulgaria, and the ancient Eastern Roman Empire.
A woman came to the door now, dressed in the regal purple robes of the Romans. Empress Maryanna of the East Roman Empire had come. She bowed out of respect to the Bulgarian President before turning to Alexandria. “Your father has gone to meet God. The Archbishop of Gnienzo and the Enumencial Patriarch read him his last rites together.”
With her stood one of her father’s advisors. “Your Majesty.” Noblemen and woman of all kinds from the Commonwealth all filed into her study. An elderly man in a simple black shirt and priest’s collar entered last, carrying a crown that Alexandria had seen only once in her life.
The Archbishop of Gnienzo smiled. “The most noble Succesionary Council has met, and with the guidance of the heavens elected you as Queen of our Commonwealth.”
Alexandria stood from her seat, numbly planting one foot before another. She stood toe to toe with the archbishop, kneeling. “I-I accept the Council’s election. God save the Commonwealth.” A grave cry of ‘God save the Commonwealth’ followed from all the nobles, silence crashing over them all.
A younger man burst into the room, breaking their solemn silence. “Your Majesty!” Everyone turned to the young man, glasses crooked and panting deeply. “Y-Your Majesty. We’ve intercepted a telegram from the Russians to the Germans. The Russians will declare war within a week. There’s talk of a partition.”
The word made every Polish man and woman’s blood run cold. Partition. The worst fears of Sigismund II were coming to pass.
Alexandria stiffened, no longer shaking. She sighed deeply. “Call King Malcolm III of the Scots and tell him that I hope they’ll serve us beer in hell.” Then she turned to the Bulgarian President and Empress Maryanna. “Poland calls for aid.”
This was her time now. This was the time of Queen Alexandra Jagiellon, in a time of a world at war...
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