A Morean Empire

I have been a long time lurker on SWHI and I have found this TL. It's of the same quality and research as the Hittite TL but a later POD. I have gotten his permission in posting this and if you'd like I have included his email in this post.
===========================================
William Baird (anzha@hotmail.com)
Date: 2002-06-24 01:20:18 PST


This is a rewrite of my previous post about a surviving remnant of the
Byzantine Empire(1). This takes into account what Demetrios Rammos
commented on and a lot more thought from a book I just finished(2).
This is being rushed out before I get done with my last BANW *Anasazi
because a friend from work desperately wants to read the source book.
He's from Rumania and wants to compare what he learned in school to
what is in the book. I am loath to turn Constin down, and so here we
go. Any and all mistakes are mine and mine alone.

=======================================
In the Beginning: The Last Crusade and One Broken Man


In 1443, John VIII Palaeologus had all but tickled the Pope into
starting a crusade to save the Byzantine Empire. By this he had
negotiated away the independence of the Orthodox Church; he had
trumped and stumped his way around Europe to get the help he needed.
The Sultan had obliged by crossing into Transylvania and alarming the
Hungarians. Additionally, the Sultan had spread himself thin in many
areas: in Morea, Albania, and Anatolia, he was fighting a serious of
campaigns simultaneously. The Crusade was kicked off in the summer of
1443.

Marching south, they were supported by a Venetian Fleet. After a
string of victories – Sophia surrendered without a fight and more
elsewhere, the Sultan was actually very alarmed. He made enough
concessions for a ten-year truce. The Pope Eugenius absolved King
Ladislas of all oaths to the Sultan from the concessions. Thus, the
Crusading Army under John Hunyadi and King Ladislas marched to the
Black Sea at Varna. There they had expected to meet up with the
Venetian Fleet. This was not to be. It was preoccupied with trying
to prevent the Sultan – Murad - from crossing from Anatolia to
Rumelia. They failed. Murad roared up the Balkans and smashed the
Crusaders. Only John Hunyadi and some of his men succeeded in
escaping.

For John VIII Palaeologus and Byzantium, this was a disaster. It was
also a humiliation because he was forced to congratulate Murad on his
success because he was Murad vassal. Eleven days later, he died in
Constantinople a broken man. For Byzantium this was a disaster
because at this point, the West wrote off the Empire as lost and
possibly not even worth saving.

John had died childless and this created a small dilemma. He had
three surviving brothers: Constantine, Demetrius, and Thomas. He had
selected Constantine, the Despot of Morea, to be his successor.
However, immediately Demetrius challenged him for it. It took the
intervention of their mother, the Empress Helena, siding with
Constantine for him to inherit the throne.(3)

Now let's shift the wheels of shwi…

The Empress Helena gets very thoughtful. She realizes that
Constantine would make the best Emperor, but that the remaining part
of what is under Byzantine sovereignty would be very weakened by
removing him to take the title: Demetrius and Thomas loath each other
like no other two can. She realizes that leaving those two to lead
would be a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake. She doesn't like
the idea of supporting Demetrius, but Constantine is about the only
chance something of Byzantium will survive the Fall of Constantinople.
. And she can see that writing on the wall.

She backs Demetrius. This shocks Constantine, but he acquiesces. She
writes him begging him to try to understand and forgive her. Later,
he would understand the why of what she did. He never does.



That Damn Fool



Demetrius I Palaeologus in November, 1448 is crowned Emperor of Rome.
He is not an ideal candidate. Foolish and overly ambitious, he first
declares the Council of Florence – an attempt to unite the Orthodox
and Catholic branches of the church under the Pope in exchange for the
last Crusade - to be null and void. This wins the population over
immediately. This would prevent any help from the West, especially
the Popes. He's riding high and begins, despite his advisors strongly
disagreeing with any action that might provoke the Turk, to take the
subsidy that he has been getting from the Sultan to begin fixing up
Constantinople's defenses. Murad hears of this, but does nothing, not
being terribly worried about it. Demetrius I then begins to hire
mercenaries and outfit them in January of 1451.

A month later, Murad is dead of apoplexy. Mehmet is summoned back
from Anatolia to take his father's place. Mehmet is 19. The West had
thought him too young and immature to be the threat his father was.
Demetrius shares this opinion. Mehmet has been doing his best to
encourage this from nearly all quarters. Demetrius sends ambassadors
to Mehmet and they exchange vows of eternal friendship. Mehmet
immediately begins building the Rumeli Hisar, a castle across from
another, Anadolu Hisar, in Anatolia. This is at the narrowest point
on the Bosphorus and gives command of it with cannon.

IOTL, Constantine new his position was too weak and sent embassies
with bribes. Two were sent away unheard. The third had the
ambassadors executed. He had more sense than Demetrius ever did…

Demetrius reacts with anger. He bides his time long enough to get an
army of reasonable size. In 1452, he crosses the Golden Horn and
marches through Galata to the Rumeli Hisar. He attacks and initially
succeeds in attacking the working party and small army left to guard
it. Damaging the building he turns to retreat only to find it blocked
off by Mehmet. A battle ensues. Demetrius' army is crushed.

He, however, is able to sneak away on a Byzantine ship back to
Constantinople. There he is reviled for what he has done. For
nothing, he has stirred up the Turk! Mehmet recalls all his
regiments, all the irregulars he can dig up. He invests
Constantinople in June 1452.

A lone Turkish voice, a friend of Mehmet's father, Halil would have
counseled against the siege IOTL. He would pay with his life once the
siege was over. ATL he bites his tongue. The young Sultan is angry
beyond words and even to speak against him now would be tantamount to
suicide.(4)

A few skirmishes are fought. Sallies from the city, especially led by
a one Antonio Rizzo, a Venetian sea captain stuck between the castles
being built to the north and the Turkish fleet to the south, merely
prolong the inevitable.

On July 17, 1452, Mehmet marched out, after finishing his siege
preparations, and made the traditional offer for the city to
surrender. To the shock of the whole of Christendom, especially his
brother Constantine, Demetrius accepted. He had been hearing "Better
the Turban of the Turk, than the crown of a fool." This convinced him
he could not get the support he needed to hold off Mehmet. Mehmet's
army marched largely peacefully in and took possession of the City.
Under threat of death, Demetrius converts to Islam. Demetrius then
writes Constantine that he ought to surrender to Mehmet because
Constantine cannot hope to resist him.

Constantine never acknowledges his brother.


Strength from Drinking of the Well of Despair


During the surrender, the Patriarch of Constantinople, along with a
number of other hid. After it was over, he and a number of Italians
fled via ship to Morea. Mehmet took advantage of the situation to
have Gennadius appointed in the fleeing Patriarch's place hoping to
maintain the schism between east and west branches of the church, as
well as make sure that the fleeing Patriarch is seen as deposed.
Mehmet, like in OTL, protects the Orthodox Church and even includes in
into his government in a brilliant political move. [Interesting knock
off effects here, two rival Patriarchs of Constantinople, that is…]

Constantine did realize that Mehmet was not the little flake that the
West had taken him for. Being the leader he appears to be, he sets
out to at least make the taking of Morea to be as painful as possible.
He is astute enough to realize that while he could be crowned the
Emperor, it would bring Mehmet immediately. He also realizes that
even though Mehmet may be brilliant, he's going to take some time to
digest what he just swallowed.

Like his brother, Michael, he goes on a tour to see what sort of help
he can turn up. This time around though, no Crusade will be produced.
A few soldiers, here, a few soldiers there. However, nowhere near
what he needs. Constantine was a smart guy. In the process of his
travels, 1452-1454, he encounters Vegetius' manual: "De Re Militari".
He also is familiar with gunpowder and what it has done to 15th
century warfare. All of these thoughts were rattling around that when
on the return trip, specifically while in Rome proper, he is inspired
by thoughts of Roman Legions. And Greek Phalanxes…hmmm.

On his return leg of his journey, while all of these ideas are still
in the formative stage, he is invited to Geneva by the bishop.
Understanding the nature of Constantine's journey, he asks the cantons
to demonstrate their heavy infantry. Constantine is enthralled. He
sees problems with using it alone given the Turkish spahis, but it's
an outstanding starting point. He hires a square – 2500 men - with
options on two others and rushes back to Morea.

On the way, he stops at Rome to do some politicking. Constantine
plays the Pope some by teasing him with the thought of unification of
the Churches. He doesn't actually offer it, but talks of considering
it. In attempts to win Constantine over, the Pope gives the money to
hire the other two squares. A messenger is sent back while
Constantine continues on.

At Mistra, he begins his reforms. Using the Swiss squares as a base
to start with, he pulls off a Maurice of Nassau a century early. The
knowledge and technology had been there for a century. All it would
have taken was a bit of inspiration. Necessity is said to be the
mother of inspiration. Desperation seems to produce it in litters.
Over the next six years he uses the matchlock, iron discipline, and
pikes to produce the pike square. Pikemen outside, gunners inside.
Typically, there were five pikemen for a single gunner: Morea was not
rich and couldn't afford more than an average of 15 guns made per
month.

His elite pike and matchlock forces he calls the Legions: first,
second, and third. He realizes that even if this works in terms of
manpower it will still be short of being able to route Mehmet. While
matchlocks and the full armor of the Swiss infantry were very
expensive, other weapons were not as much so. He had great plans for
a militia auxiliary corps, but that would have to wait. Instead he
took heavy sword infantry, mostly mercenary, for the role.

Some of the Genoans had been very shocked at Constantinople's fall.
One such man was Giovanni Guistiniani Longo. This brave soul
Constantine placed in command of his mercenaries, swordsmen and
bowmen. Guistiniani took inspiration from Constantine's drill, march,
and formation: he applied it to his troops as well.

All told, Constantine had 24,000 infantry: 15,000 pikemen – half
native, half Swiss, 3,000 arquebusiers, and 6,000 swordsmen and
bowmen.

The second problem that the new Morean Army faced was that it lacked
in mobility. They were all, after all, infantry and often carrying
very heavy loads: whether as the pikemen or gunners, or the supporting
sword or bowmen. None could move quickly, and especially not
tactically. While the Legionnaires could keep the spahi at bay, they
would almost always be able to pick the place of battle unless
something could be done to redress this.

Another man showed up from out of the mists of the Balkans. He too
had heard of a stand against the Turk by the rightful ruler of
Byzantium. He'd tried before to help in this very noble cause, but
had fallen a bit short. He felt he would not do so again. His name
was John Hunyadi.

John took up the cause of the Morean cavalry. Having faced the spahi
before, he adopted lance and bow tactics instead of sword and bow of
his enemy. He could only produce a sixth of the troops that the
infantry did. Constantine dubbed him his Cataphracts.

Cannon have not been neglected either…

Armed to the teeth, as ready as he ever would be, Constantine marched
out to tie up the loose ends in Morea: a Turkish fortress here,
another there, etc. Word gets back to Mehmet. He rouses an army:
it's a mighty host of 100,000 and he marches on Morea…

An army that size cannot be hidden. Constantine knows what's coming
down. Since he doesn't have a lot to lose anyways, he has his rival
Patriarch crown him Emperor of the Romans. This gets Mehmet's
legendary temper set off: however, he's not stupid and doesn't do
anything immediately rash. March on he does. Through the annexed
Duchy of Athens across the Isthmus of Corinth where Constantine
awaits…


Homer would be Proud


Mehmet's force was met full fury by Constantine's. The initial clash
gored the Anatolian infantry that Mehmet had turned loose with
surprisingly little casualties for the Legionnaires. Mehmet threw one
after another of his subject forces against the Moreans. Time and
again they were thrown back. This was not without cost. The
Cataphracts whirled and danced with the Spahi. Charged and retreated,
lanced and snapped bows. Pikemen gutted horses and men. The gunner
thundered above the heads of their protecting pikes. By the end of
the first day, both sides were exhausted and disentangled.

Mehmet characteristically slaughtered some generals.

Constantine debated with his. In the end, there was no choice: they
had been literally decimated. The Moreans had to retreat. Using a
token force of auxiliaries as a screen, retreat Constantine did, that
night no less, to better ground.

Mehmet found out the next morning and marched after him. Another
battle ensued when the spahi caught up to the marching Moreans.
Morean Legionnaires formed their squares. For the first time in
millennia, Roman swordsmen formed their tortoises. They were
maneuvered inside the circle of squares. Discipline was holding the
army together. Unfortunately, Mehmet had force marched his infantry
up to the site of where the Moreans were pinned.

These Mehmet immediately crashed in to the squares. German, Greek and
Italian were spat at those speaking Turkish, Arab, and Slavonic.
Pikes were thrust, swords swung, and death followed. Arrows fell from
the swirling tides of spahi around the Morean formation. The squares
slowly gave ground: they simply had to under the pressure. Things
were definitely desperate.

Constantine, Guistiniani, and Hunyadi conferred. Something had to be
done or they'd suffer Crassus' fate. Taking a play from Caesar, they
would try a Pharsalos: the sword infantry was as yet uncommitted.
Guistiniani had boasted they were the best swordsmen since the
Principate…the swordsmen formed up with their bowmen. The gunners on
the south side of the formation, the gunners stepped back and opened
up a gap between the squares. As the gunners stepped back, the spahi
poured in. A disaster was in the making!

A mad melee broke out in the center of the now omni directional
bristling squares. Spahi rode down bowmen and gunners. Swordsmen in
shield walls clashing with janissaries. Morean horsemen swirled in a
deadly dance. All control had been lost by the Moreans.

Hunyadi had pulled back with some of his surviving horsemen that he
could get control of: a mere ten percent of what he'd had going into
the meat grinder. Licking his lips, he realized that it was happening
again. All over again. He, the brilliant man he was, was about to
lose Byzantium's battle. Again. It was Varna all over again. This
he vowed for it not to be.

Collaring a priest, he rallied his men and charged out the north side
of the battle. He had seen a unique opportunity: Mehmet was
relatively unguarded. Almost all of the troops had been committed to
what appeared to be the crush of the Morean forces. Hunyadi charged
in cleaving a route to the hated Sultan. Full of arrows, Mehmet fell
from his horse. All, but throwing the priest at Mehmet: baptize him,
but hurry about it. Mehmet was too weak to protest, but it shook the
army around him like a hurricane would a palm tree, buffeting it like
a play toy. His most loyal attacked Hunyadi and his guard around the
priest. They were slaughtered to a man: however, the appearance of
baptism and last rights for the Moslem Sultan would be great
propaganda. The army all but disintegrated as Christians – Serbs and
others – turned on the Muslims around them, slaughtering and killing
now free of their oath to Mehmet.

Whole regiments fled. From the jaws of defeat, Constantine had
snatched victory.

Just.

The next 12 years of his reign would determine much about the course
of the Morean Empire (so called by modern scholars even though they
simply called themselves ‘Roman').

Continue?

Will

1. http://groups.google.com/groups?hl=...4d8827d.0204202358.ad202ab@posting.google.com

2. The Balkans since 1453, Stravrianos, LS, ISBN 0-8147-9766-0. I
highly recommend the book. It doesn't pick sides when telling the
story of the peninsula and makes for a very interesting read. I am
looking forward to reading more on the subject because of how well
written this is. I am sure it leaves out a lot – it covers nearly 500
years of history of a very diverse area – but it seems to be at least
a very good starting place.

3. A Short History of Byzantium, Norwich, JJ, ISBN 0-679-45088-3

4. Lords of the Horizons, Goodwin, Jason, ISBN 0-8050-6342-0
 
Now that the Ottoman Empire has apparently been gutted, will they march on Constantinople and reclaim it before Mehmet's sons can get their act together?

Overall, a very interesting scenario. Thing is, who's Maurice of Nassau and what did he do?
 
Part 2

see
and
this
(suffice to say the address that I found didn't work so what is explained on why he's so famous is below)
===============
In the year 1459, Constantine XI Dragases defeated
Mehmet II in battle. This was largely due to the
fact that he snatched victory from the jaws of
defeat by the efforts of the legendary John
Hunyadi. When all looked lost, Hunyadi led a
charge of the remaining cavalry looking to pull
a propaganda stunt: they had a priest baptize the
dying Mehmet and conduct very blatant Last Rites
for him. The Christian auxiliaries broke with the
Muslim main army and turned on them. This scattered
the already disorganized Ottoman Army.

Just because the Turks have been soundly defeated,
does not mean that the Morean Empire will be able
to simply march to Constantinople...


A Most Uncivil War


On the death of Mehmet and the return of the
remainder of his army, about half, to undisputed
lands, factions almost immediately rose up.
These each picked one of three of Mehmet's sons
as their claimant. Each had generals or important
figures as regents since all of the sons were very
young: 11 or younger.

The Anatolian spahis supported Cem, the middle
son. He was, even at his young age, noted for
his forceful personality and the Anatolians
wanted such a Sultan. Never mind that they'd
have greater sway and they could get support in
trying to attack the Persians and Mamelukes on
their border. The Rumelian Spahis and many of
the officials in Constantinople supported Bayezid.
Halil, the advisor that had bitten his tongue at
Constantinople's capture, became the foremost regent
here. These factions would clash and beat on each
other for 5 years. The Anatolians would cross and
lay siege to Constantinople. The Rumelians would
cross and cut off their supplies. Back and forth,
back and forth. Cavalry clash here. Cavalry clash
there. Very little infantry beyond auxiliaries.
Finally, it was a garrote of an assassin that would
settle the matter. In 1464, while he slept, Bayezid
was strangled at age 16. Halil wisely approached the
opposition and they negotiated a settle. The
Anatolians won out, for the most part, but Halil was
appointed as one of the Regents.

The third faction from the Turks supported Mustafa:
it was centered in Thessalonica and comprised of the
Navy and remnants of the Janissaries. This faction
led by an admiral never could get much land conquered.
They could and did make themselves a serious pain on
the seas and make raids by dropping off the Janissaries
wherever they felt along the shorelines. Finally,
unfortunately, the navy pissed off the Venetians.
Without the resources of the whole of the Ottoman Empire
at their back, each defeat, however small, neared the
point where they'd be powerless. In the end, blockaded
by the Venetians, under siege first by the Moreans, and
finally by the united Ottomans, the game was up in 1465:
Mustafa was take out and strangled. The Admiral was
killed as well.

The final faction ended up more like bandits than a
fighting force. By the end of the civil war, it would
have been wiped out, but in the mean time it made itself
a nuisance attacking supply trains and raiding small
towns and villages. Even burning crops and slaughtering
peasants once its leader finally realized that he wasn't
going to get back the throne. Yep, Demetrius led this
faction. Ever ambitious and just won't go away. Part of
the reason he couldn't garner any support was that he
couldn't persuade either side he was sincere. The
Christians noted he'd converted to Islam. The Muslims
noted he was a forced convert by the sword. Both sides
realizes that he was something of a toad anyways. In
1464, he was finally cornered and killed.

The civil war would last 6 years. And in the end, Cem,
the son that Mehmet II favored in OTL for succession,
but lost to Bayezid II, became Sultan. He was only 14
and would have to deal with his eastward oriented and
cautious advisors. However, it'd be a while before he
could assert himself...


Oh Mighty Morea?


The Moreans were not idling sitting back and watching.
However, for the first 2 years, they were licking their
wounds. Irreplaceable wealth had been lost in fending
off Mehmet and the Pope wasn't as forth coming at the
moment. The contract for 2 of the 3 Swiss pike squares
expired as a result: Constantine simply could not pay
for them. Additionally, many of the sword and bow
auxiliaries were let go as well. They were escorted
out of Morea to waiting ships rather than simply
disbanded. Various groups asserting independence
from the Ottomans though hired many of them.

Some reforms that Constantine instituted were applied
to the Legions. Instead of two squares of 2500 pikemen
per Legion plus gunners, he reorganized it into smaller
units of 6 blocks of 800 plus gunners. The squares
were hollowed and the gunners placed inside. The
swordsmen were likewise save for a single elite unit,
the so-called Sword of the Emperor, used primarily for
sieges and very rough terrain. The bowmen were dispensed
with. The new system allowed for greater flexibility when
engaging the enemy.

One of the strange consequences was that with the near
annihilation of the Morean cavalry, only ten percent
survived the epic battle with Mehmet and the subsequent
pursuit of the spahis and chasing away the Christian
auxillaries, most of the young nobility of Morean had
been killed.

Finally, another bit of strangeness is that the Swiss
are starting to rub off on the Moreans. The Swiss at
the time were noted for their almost xenophobia: if
you weren't Swiss, you weren't sh*t (or more properly
if you weren't from the Confederation...). This is
rubbing off on the Moreans, their military is taking
on the attitude, even as the Swiss are leaving the
army and going home. Eventually, echos of this start
to reverbate through Morean society...


Suspect Everything from Venice...


In 1463, The Venetians had had enough from the
piratical practices of the Ottoman Naval Faction
and approached the Moreans about a joint expedition.
The Venetians offered to evacuate the portions of
Morea still occupied and cover the expenses of Morea
at war: basically, they were offering to hire the
Moreans to fight the Ottomans. After consideration,
Constantine agreed. He did need the money. The
Moreans marched across the Isthmus of Corinth and
began their, at first, very successful march north,
taking the old Duchy of Athens, modern central Greece,
and making it as far as a line between Preveza on the
Ionian Sea to Lamia on the Aegean.

In 1464, The Venetians then scooped up the army, minus
some garrisoning troops, and transported it to
Thessalonki where the Venetians were blockading the
Ottoman Fleet. The Moreans disembarked and marched to
lay siege. The siege looked to be nearing a successful
end when Cem's forces arrived. Constantine fought a
staged, fighting retreat, but the more massive Ottoman army
had caught him in a bad position. They were, fortunately,
at the moment more interested in dealing with Mustafa and
the other Ottoman faction than they were the Moreans. On
a negotiated settlement, the Moreans were loaded back up
into the Venetian transports and sailed back to Lamia. The
Ottomans worked informally with the Venetians to finish the
blockade and siege.

The siege ends in four months after the cannons brought
up by the Cem's Ottomans begin blasting away at the city
walls. The Turkish navy has been ravaged, the Jannisaries
largely wiped out.

However, Cem's Regents demand a march on the Moreans to
recover the territory lost there. Halil urges caution,
but is overruled. Venice, as part of the negotiated
peace with the Ottomans, has basically abandoned the
Moreans to their enemy's wrath...

The Ottomans and Moreans clash time and again. The
Moreans technically win all the battles: they lose
fewer troops and hold the field at the end of each
battle. However, to prevent being cut off, they are
forced to withdraw down the coast of the Aegean. In
the Pindus Mountains the elite Sword of Emperor
continues to hold out. It is only down the East coast
where the Ottomans are pushing.

Down and down and down, the Moreans are pushed.
Constantine sets up a detachment up Giustiniani having
him take a 1/3 of the troops it peels off into the Pindus.
It's acting as a flank guard while the Emperor's Sword is
acting as a blocker as it marches in parallel in the lower
Pindus to the Ottomans.

After weeks of clash and retreat, the Moreans have reached
the mountains just north of Athens. Here they make a stand
and clash repeatedly. Finally, after a battle where the
Ottomans are bloody badly because Giustiniani had marched
his detachment into their flank, and the Albanians coming
down to take the offensive under their famous Skanderbeg,
Halil prevails. He negotiates a peace treaty, a 10-year truce,
between the Moreans and Ottomans. The Moreans keep the
territory currently held and the likewise for the Ottomans.

The year is 1466.

Morea nows has Athens added and a stretch of coast on the
Ionian Sea.

And the interesting stuff will follow next time: from the
Heat of the Forge...
 
Installment No. 3

After the last posting, I realized I made a mistake.
The lands actually held by the Moreans, for those of you
that care are:

Attica, Megara, the southwestern third of Boeotia, half
of Phocis, Locris Ozolis, Doris, Aetolia and Acarnania
and a sliver of Epirus to the east of Ambracian Gulf as
well as Morea (if anyone other than perhaps Demetrios
around here actually knows where I am talking about…I may
have goofed a bit, but I'm sure someone will correct me.
It's the stuff west and south of the Pindus).

Can anyone think of a good name for this land area if it
were to be called a politic division?


[TL]


Twilight and Dawn:


He entered the mountain fortress with great fanfare. A
foreign dignitary, even one of such a relatively unimportant
state, was a rare and exciting event. Few bothered to come
to Mistra from the outside world other than embassies from
the Turks, Venetians, or Pope. One from a solid ally was
not only rare, but unheard of.

Dismounting, he was ushered in to the palace and to audience
chamber. There he knelt, in a gesture of genuine in respect
and gratitude. He could see that the Emperor was exhausted
and near the end of his life. He could see that the old man
was very appreciative of even the gesture. Tired to the bones
and not long to live, judged Georg Kastriota. Let me make a
nod to all that you have done.

Still kneeling before the age exhausted Emperor, he declared,
"You were our one true ally. All Christendom owes you so much,
fore you have done more to hold the gates than any man in so
many ages. For this, we thank you, my lord. My king. My
Emperor."

As Georg left, he knew he had moved the old Emperor. What
he didn't realize was what future politicians would do with
Skanderbeg's nobleness.


---


After the epic battles between the Moreans and Ottomans
that concluded with the treaty of peace, both sides tried
very hard to hold it. Cem's regents needed the time for
consolidation. Constantine needed the time for his
military to recover and for yet more improvements. One
of the things that he would be remembered for in military
circles was his constant tinkering with the percentage of
the weapon mix. His tweaks upwards of the number of gunners
and swordsmen and downwards of the number of pikemen were
just that, tweaks, not great innovations. He had four great
contributions left to add for his phoenix empire.

His rebuilding of the roads along the lines of the old Roman
lines, but wider, was necessary for the quick movement of
his troops. They were much wider than their old counterparts,
but just as tough in design and thoroughly useful whatever
the weather. These were very expensive, but one of the side
effects was the freer movement of goods within the Morean
Empire, stimulating a lot of trade and not just at the ports.
Goods that would have been unable to venture inland now could.
The roads even stretched up into the Pindus Mountains
increasing the Morean influence over the Ottoman one greatly.

Secondly, he refounded the Byzantine military academy.
Without so many of the experienced nobles, since so many were
killed in the cavalry battles with the Ottomans, he lacked an
educated source of officers. Hunyadi's sacrifice nearly ten
years ago had troubled him greatly as it was. He had some
talented people now – John Grant, the military engineer; some
of Hunyadi's surviving protégés for cavalry. Giustiniani was
a talented infantryman. George Palaiologue and Krokodeilos
Kladas for their generalship. Etc. However, when they died
- all men being mortal - merely passing on orally what they
new almost instinctively would lose something. So, he
refounded a school for training future officers.

Thirdly, he kept the peace. Frontier commanders on both sides
kept trying to provoke their opposite numbers with raids and
attacks. Constantine would sack or transfer commanders that
caused too many problems and provide reparations for when they
got too out of hand before he could smack down the insolently
aggressive ones. Fortunately, Halil, one of Cem's regents, was
doing likewise on the Turkish side of the border.

Finally, he had written a parting Will that was plumbed for
insights and set the tone of more than one Emperor's reign
that would follow. Part of it he had enacted himself – he
sent his designated heir, Andreas, son of his dead brother
Thomas, on a tour not unlike what he himself did to find ways
of resisting the Ottomans. The rest was largely a long and
intelligent letter to the reader stating, in very distilled
terms, "Don't bite off more than you can chew", "Don't indulge
in petty infighting in the face of the enemy", and "Retake what
is ours. Recover our roots. Reconquer Constantinople." There
were a few other directives to maintain the infrastructure and,
when possible, to introduce a Swiss style training for the
people. It was one of the things wanted to do, but could not
afford to money wise in his lifetime.

In 1471, Constantine XI Dragases dies. His funeral procession
was great and remarkable. His tomb in Mistra was something
that could have heralded in greatness from the Italian
Renaissance, but had the flavor of a Byzantine hybrid in style.


---

The Passing of the Mantle

---

Slightly sozzled from the night's personal celebrations, he
had all but staggered in earlier. He was still none too
steady on his feet, but could not sleep. It was a rare night
that he had not brought back some woman for his pleasure.
After all, drinking and wenching were two of his favorite
three things.

He quite carefully moved about his chambers, dodging the this
and the that left here and there. True, he was heir to the
Empire with it's long and glorious traditions that struck back
into antiquity, but at least currently it was not the richest
and his tired uncle, Constantine, would rather spend money on
the new roads than on an extra servant for Andreas while abroad.

He finally reached his desk in his studio. He had a letter
there he wanted to reread. The "Holy Father", as he called
himself, had written him asking for his return for more
negotiations. It wasn't his purpose to be discussing
matters of Church and this puffed up Patriarch was not helping
matters. Fortunately, the Pope was still in Rome and Andreas
was out of reach. Still, this letter had irritated him; so
he sat down to write. It wasn't the wisest thing to do, but
Andreas was impulsive as it was and a bit inebriated.

Finally, he pushed back his chair, quite satisified. He'd send
off his reply tomorrow and get a good tweak from the good
Patriarch, ahem, Pope. He was very satisified and delighted
at what tomorrow would bring. Not only would he get to send
off this irritant, and he would get to indulge in his third
great passion. He had already been to Venice and now these
Englishmen were to demonstrate their ships. The thought made
him grin quite widely, for he dearly loved the sea…

---

Andreas I Palaeologus was crowned Emperor in 1471 with great
fanfare. This is not the Andreas of OTL, but he is a kissing
cousin. He has been raised under the tutelage of Constantine
and groomed quite a bit for his coming role. He still has
his problems with being quite the philanderer and still
drinks by far too much, but he has a better backbone than
IOTL.

His own greatest contribution to the Morean Empire would be
the renovating of the fleet. He could not afford to make it
very large, but he could and did make update and expand it.
From a whole of 20 ships, he grew into 20 proto-galleons and
twice that in the much smaller rowed galleys. The core of
the fleet was the gun toting proto-galleons, but the galleys
were not abandoned because of their relatively lower cost
and great maneuverability. He, of course, followed
Constantine's example and made a naval academy as well.
This was situated at Pylos. As very large and impressive
the new ships for his fledgling navy were for the time, but
had he reigned more than the little under five years he did,
he would have bankrupted the back-from-the-ashes Empire.

Unfortunately for him, salt water and alcohol don't quite
mix. While very smashed, he started ranting about something
that the sailors on his new ship were doing, not that anyone
could understand him so sozzled was he, that from the shore
he grabbed a long boat and began to be rowed out. Part way
through, the sailors noted what was going on and stopped to
watch. This infuriated him to no end and he stood up,
gesticulating with great vehemence…and toppled over and out
of the boat. There he drowned.

It wasn't his achievements that were most noteworthy nor
any real achievements by individuals. It was the changes
that were gaining momentum besides him that started under
Constantine, but were not directly caused by Constantine
that really make Andreas' reign most notable.

The first was the Swiss influence. The Swiss of the Middle
Ages and Renaissance were not terribly friendly to outsiders.
On the contrary, they were mildly xenophobic: if you weren't
Swiss, you weren't $h1+. With all of the training that the
Swiss originally provided the Morean army's pikemen,
something not at all dissimilar took root with these Rhomhoi.
Over the past decade and change, this had been intensified,
especially when the Moreans would have a tactical victory.
The more victories, the more it was reinforced. Unlike in
some societies, the Morean soldiers were not apart and this
imbued itself into the rest of society. True, it did coalesce
into a cohesive whole, but it also made it feeling overly
superior on the peasant and middle class level towards that
which it felt was alien. The aliens, in this case, were the
Ottomans especially, but Venice was also on the radar. This
would feed into the next great change going underway.

When Constantinople surrendered, Mehmet had appointed
Gennadius, a fanatically rabid antipapist, to the Patriarchate
in hopes of maintaining the split between the Eastern and
Western Churches. It had been a brilliant political move and
had paid many dividends. However, unlike IOTL, there was a
ready source of alternately legitimate authority for Orthodoxy:
the original Patriarch of Constantinople had fled with a great
many people to Morea. There his successor remained in Mistra.

Unfortunately, the Orthodox Church in Morea was poor: the state
could only support it so much and the peasants were hardly at
this time rolling in it either. The younger priests and even
some of the higher clergy had come to see this as a blessing.
The worldly trappings were a curse, not a blessing…greatness
lay in the purity and humbleness of spirit. Alas, with the
over grown moral superiority slowly, yet steadily infecting
the general populous, it made its inroads here as well. When
religion and hate mix, the results are explosive…and this is
the era of the Spanish Inquisition…


---

On the Ottomans' Other Cheek

---


The Pope swore aloud. That upstart Greek! He would teach
him a thing or two. His robes flowing about him he stalked
down the halls of his summer residence. Priests and cardinals
followed in his furious wake. Andreas would pay for his
mistake of wounding the pride of the Pope and offending Mother
Church. He would have to bide his time, but he would get his
vengeance.

After all, the Pope was a Borgia.

---

Manuel III Palaeologus was crowned Emperor in 1476. It was
his misfortune to be crowned months before the truce was to
end with the Turks and things had not been quiet and peaceful
in its feelings towards the Moreans there. His own near
megalomania and gifted amateur status would bring about his
fall. However, to go from the relatively quiet state of the
Morea of the Truce Decade to Manuel's dethroning was a very
tortuous route.

Cem since he had been 18 had been trying to take control of
the Sultanate. He had first battered himself figuratively
directly against the strength of his regents. While they
were no longer regents in name, they still controlled the
Ottoman Empire. His personality lent itself very much to
frontal assaults, but, given time and the possibility of
maturing, he changes tactics.

After four years of trying and very explicitly failing to
frontally depose them, in 1474, he began to play them off
against each other. He was a smart man and could see that
there was a chance that with any given group of men,
fractures were present and he only needed to pound on them
right to get them to break in open. That would make way
for him to claim the powers that had been going with the
throne previously and were not denied him. Seemingly
accepting his fate, he started scrap after scrap within
the council meeting, but always being sure to toss the meat
and then let the dogs fight over it.

The increased stress slowly, but surely took its toll on
Halil. The one relatively friendly voice towards the
Moreans passed finally passed away the year before the
truce's end. For the Moreans, this would not bode well.

Assassinations would soon follow. One regent or another
would end up dead. Cem's agents even raised a mob once
against yet another one for supposedly having too many
sympathies with the Karamans. Finally, there were a very
few left, a mere handful that were unassailable from the
knife, garrote, mob, and rumor. For them, Cem took to
the field, but not directly against them.

Eastward he would march, not on the Mamelukes or the
Persians yet. Instead he had his eyes set upon Karamania.
The Karamanians had been able to hold off the regents and
thus the Ottomans in general, for longer than IOTL primarily
because none of the regents trusted the other enough to
garner too much of a force. Additionally, there were a few
sympathetic ears for them, just like there had been with
Halil for the Moreans. These prevented their conquest during
the period of 1466 to 1476. It would take him two years
to subdue the obstinate Karamans.

Unfortunately, in the midst of it all, the Truce expired…


---

How Thebish of you…

---

Sweat and blood trickled down his sides, hate and pain
boiled in his guts. He was dying and embraced that fate.
God would welcome him for he had killed many a heathen's
horse and almost as many of them.

Heaven would await him and eternal bliss…

The lance that protruded from his gut would ensure that.

---


In the midst of Cem conquering Karamania, the Ten Year
Truce between the Ottomans and the Moreans expired. The
Ottoman Regents and the Morean Emperors had held the
border skirmishes in check. They did not have a reason
to do so now and Manuel was eager to prove himself to his
people that he too was as great as Constantine…

He had moved up in anticipation of the truce end and when
the first raiders struck, he chased them off with his
Stratatoi. Then he moved forward into the remainder of
the Duchy of Athens. Striking north from Athens, he
marched as his cavalry swing around and flanked more than
one resisting force. The battles were fierce and
determined even though that Cem was not present: the
Moreans had unleashed their own inquisition within her
borders and the Muslims nobility and converts knew what
awaited them.

It took over a half a year to finish, but finish the
campaign did and the rest of the Duchy of Athens fell to
the Moreans. While Manuel consolidated, he sent the elite
Emperor's Sword and the stratatoi north.

Cem had heard and weighed the loss of the vulnerable
remainder of the Duchy of Athens to the subduing of
Karamania. Considering where his primary support was from,
it was an easy choose. Quickly, while he still pressed the
Karamanians, he dispatched an embassy to Manuel. Peace and
Truce, for five years. Manuel accepted. He had realized by
the end of the campaign he was short of supplies needed to
push further. He would desperately need them, especially if
he had any hope of conquest. Supplies he laid in at
Thermopylae and at Olpae. He was aiming for no less than
the recovery of both Thessalia and Epirus.


---

Thunder's Clap

---

The Muezzin from the Mosque's minaret called out the Athaan:
God is most great. God is most great.
God is most great. God is most great.
I testify that there is no god except God.
I testify that there is no god except God.
I testify that Muhammad is the Messenger of God.
I testify that Muhammad is the Messenger of God.
Come to prayer! Come to prayer!
Come to -

Just then a great Morean cannonball impacted,
ripping a hole midway up the minaret.
---


Neither side had been idle in the five-year pause. Manuel
had moved up supplies and stationed the vast majority of
his troops near Thermopylae and Olpae. Here would be where
he would launch his offensives just days before the latest
truce's end.

Cem had hardly been idle either. He had taken the
opportunity to think through his conquests in Karamania
and the success of the Moreans. He realized that in both
cases the infantry had been the decisive factor, not the
cavalry. They took cities under him. They repulsed and
even defeated cavalry under the Moreans. The Janissaries had
been instrumental in his grandfather's age and before. After
much thought, he too set about creating his ‘Dagsilsilesi',
his Mountains.

They were for the most part patterned on the Moreans. There
were fewer gunners than the Moreans had, but that would be
slowly evened out, as the Turkish bent on the pike and gun
square was worked out. Over time they drilled and drilled,
to a very good exact units. They were to the Moreans what
the Landsknecht were to the Swiss.

When they clashed in 1484, it would be the most furious a
fight as ever the Moreans had faced. They would have faced
the Moreans sooner had Cem not been worried about the
Moreans finding out. Because of this, he had had them
training in Anatolia. Additionally, a heavy infantry army
was not something the Turks were used to moving about on a
strategic level and it took longer for them to reach the
front than the spahis and conscript infantry.

The Moreans had been making good time. By the time that
the Turks had reached Thessaloniki with their main force,
the Thessalian thrust had reached Larissa after having
crushed or repulsed several more traditional Turkish
forces sent ahead to delay the Moreans. The thrust into
Epirus was going even better and they would be soon
linking up with their Albanian allies across from Corfu.

Near old Pythium, the two Thessalian thrust and the Turks
met. When pike met pike, it was like too icebergs
crashing into each other, slowly grinding and crashing,
tearing off bloody pieces amidst the stench and smoke of
gunner fire. It was hell on earth: hot, sulfurous and bloody.

The battle would last the whole day since it began shortly
after sunrise, but the outcome in retrospect was certain.

In the end, four things favoured the Moreans. The first
was experience. Their infantry was more experienced and
had a tradition stretching back nearly thirty years. The
Turks had been working at being pikemen for merely five at
most for the longest service troops. Addditionally, the
Turks had never been blooded in this style of warfare.

Secondly, the Moreans were more heavily armored. They had
to be in order to survive the flight after flight of arrows
from the wave after cyclic wave of Ottoman spahis. While it
made the Turks marginally quicker, when it came down to the
crash and thrust of spears, the armor made quite a difference.

Next, it was the leadership. Cem was not a bad general at all.
On the contrary, he was a very talented one. Manuel was not
much more than a very lucky SOB and something more of the
gifted amateur. However, the military academy really paid
off. Individual Morean officers were able to take advantage
of their units' articulation and engage more aggressively
and effectively.

Finally, the gunners of the Moreans were simply more numerous
and could engage either the pikemen or mass to face the spahis.
Tear terrible holes through the Turkish lines or kill precious
horse, either way they wrecked terrible death and mutilation.

Finally, as evening set upon the field and the sky hinted that
dusk was near, the spahis withdrew to obtain more arrows from
the supply train. In the relatively short slackening off of
the rain of arrows, the Morean pikes pressed their thrusts
forward with awesome weight. Individual tetragona of 450
pikemen, 150 gunners and 150 swordsmen worked their way around
the flanks of the Turkish formation under diligent and
belligerent guidance from their officers. Wrapping around
like a cilia covered amoeba, the Moreans encysted and crushed
the Turkish pikes. As gaps were torn by pike and ball in the
Turkish formation, the swordsmen worked their way in creating
a murderous carnage. The spahis attempted to relieve the pikes,
but the Moreans had thrust their pikes outwards as well as
inwards and held the spahis at bay.

If Cem had not been with his pikemen and steadying the
Dagsilsilesi - his new infantry - he would have been merely
forced to retreat. When the last of the pike, yielded,
however, he was captured. He was escorted back to the Moreans'
fortified camp and there he signed the peace that would eat
at him to no end: Thessalia and Epirus were to be Morean.

After a week of Morean "hospitality", he was set free on
condition he withdraws and honor the treaty. This he would,
but only so long as it took to perfect his army to crush the
Moreans.

---

The Rising Storm

---


Soon, he crooned, in the moonlit night. Looking down from
atop his summer home. Soon he'd have his vengeance. He'd
talked quite extensively and near befriended the fool Greek's
brother and heir. He liked the man, but he'd not let such
things get in his way for that was of no consequence.

Upstart Patriarch? He thought not. He smirked at the thought
of the Duke of Naples dead by poison and the purposeful turmoil
there.

He turned and glided back to his chambers. He had lamps and
writing utensils waiting.

He began, "Hail to the Emperor of the Romans…"

Soon…

---

The ships of the Morean navy silently slid across the
water. Genoan Merchant ships accompanied them. All of
their bellies, merchant ship and warship alike, were full
of the troops of the Morean Legions. Their destination,
Otranto. The year is 1488.

In the pocket of the Emperor Manuel III Palaeologus who
stood on the deck of the Julius, his flagship, was a letter.
It implored him to intervene to stabilize the Kingdom of Naples.

*

In the ancient capital of the ancient empire and the Eternal
City, the Holy Father smiled most delightedly. This was
going to work out just right.

*

"Father," asked the young man after watching the Turkish
pikemen drill, "Why do you play at the Romans' game? The
way to defeat them is not to play at to their strength,
but to find that one thing that they cannot face and make
them face it."

Had the Sultan been younger or less humbled over the years
he might have unleashed his formidable temper on the young
man, but time and humbling had worn away his originally
nasty reaction to the messenger of truth. No, now, Cem,
the Ottoman Sultan, merely smiled and the asked his son
to walk with him in the gardens of his palace Constantinople.
He had great hopes for this young man, for he would be a
great Sultan in his own right…

"Tell me your mind, son"

"Father, are we not Turks and the cultured sons of the
steppe?"

That walk would last a very long time.
 

Leo Caesius

Banned
Based on what he's said, this is more or less what we're talking about, I think:

Morea.gif
 
wow, this is a well researched and well written time-line, and i find it refreshing to see something of this scope and style after being swamped with the paragraph long 50 year speculative format. Thanks for the map.
Sparta would be proud. I hope the turks give the morians something to think about. So all the muslims have been streaming back into anatolia with tales of persecution, wonder if the turks will be able to retake the lands to the north?
 
I hate ants

with that said, here is Part 4
If wanting to respond to author, see Part 1 where I included his email account.

[TL]

Neapolitan Dreams:

Mopping his forehead, Manuel III Palaeologus, was
annoyed. The campaign in southern Italy had been
going well, if slowly. That was what annoyed him.
These Italians knew nothing of warfare – his legions
crushed the condottieri every engagement and the
Turkish fire that his troops had been forged in was
far, far hotter. No. It was logistics that slowed
him. Even with Morean engineers following and
churning up earth and stone to produce the great
highways, supplies kept his forces down to only
three legions. It would be over soon. Naples was
only a few miles off.

It was June 12, 1491.

****

Manuel's invasion, at the prompting of Borgian Pope,
had gone off relatively well. Cities fell. Some
were sacked. The battles that the king of Naples
had given had been stunning – to anyone not used
to seeing the Moreans in action.

The condottieri were used to fighting a dance of
warfare – ritualized, sanitized, and meant to
minimize the casualties: a dance of maneuver and
position; a dance of graceful demands and grateful
concessions. This was an illusion, more like politics
than war. In OTL, it was shattered when the Spaniards
and French fought their Wars over who would have
dominion over the Italian Peninsula. ATL, it'd be
the Moreans that disabused the Italians first and
popped their soap bubble.

When facing the Turk, you wanted to maximize
casualties…/their/ casualties. Unfortunately, this
left a great deal of dead and more than a bit of
mercilessness among Manuel's troops. You stand in
heavy armor, sweating and fearful, holding a pike,
seeing every face of the man you kill, and keep a
sense of mercy. One more philosophical officer
after a tavern brawl while he was wiping his knife
clean after killing a fool mused that he had become
Death himself!

Manuel was not such a philosophical man. All he
cared about was glory. Bloody, terrible, wonderful
glory and his legions were giving it to him. Victory
after victory…until he was tired of it. Not because
he didn't love the clash of steel and death of men,
but because it was too easy. The Italians would march
up and he'd squash them like a bug. Yet the campaign
went on. Slowly. Damn that supply train!

Amazingly, he was even able to do a little recruiting,
among the poorer Italians and some remnant graecophones.
Even so, with his army had been depleted. Disease was
great killer more than the opposition. It had taken a
long time to try to fit the Italian boot to the Morean
foot and the end was near...

Or so we all would think...and Manuel certainly did so.

***

Free Demolition for the New City

***

City fighting. Who'd have thought that city fighting
would go on so long? Even fighting for cities with
the Turks didn't have this happen. Peasants would
duck and cover, city dwellers generally keep out of
the way, hoping that soldiers would not rampage all
out of control. The mouse survives where the lion
does not.

These Neapolitans though! Who'd have thought that
/Italians/ would have such a backbone! No dances
here. No short decisive battle. Even after the walls
were breached, it was battles block-by-block,
street-by-street, clearing building after building.
This was sword and grenade work, something that his
army wasn't really designed for.

He winced and rubbed his thigh. It wasn't his thigh
that hurt, but his lower leg. He'd taken a javelin
in the calf muscle and it wasn't healing properly.
Perhaps if he could get proper rest…but, no, his men
were as exhausted and bloodied as he and he would not
retire the field until this city was taken.

After all, the campaign was near the end, right?

***

What Manuel did not know was that the Pope had sent
emissaries to Naples. It was an interesting mix of
truth and untruth. The Pope's message claimed that
the emperor intended to place all of Italy under the
Orthodox creed (potentially true, but he'd not thought
that far out as yet): killing those priests that
stood true (false) and ransacking everything else
(false, mostly). Any that refused to follow the
Patriarch of Mystra, citing Morean Anakatalipsi –
Reconquest - would be put to the sword (empathetically
false). Additionally, the Pope had paid for a square
of Swiss, which were still marching, and 1000 of
condottiere's swordsmen that were enspined. There
were promises of more troops and the Pope was
maneuvering the other Italian city-states into
alliance to eject the Moreans. It wouldn't be the
Italians that pushed back the Moreans, however.

Manuel's troops and the Italians had seesawed back
and forth through the streets. Moreans with their
superior training weighed in against Italians with
their ever-fresh reinforcements. Manuel had been
unable to capture some of the docks along the seashore
and the troops were often landed there. However, the
Moreans were damn close to winning now: all that was
left was a ring of earthworks, sconces to be exact,
around the Castello Nuovo. All looked bright: the
taking of the city would soon be over. Manuel certainly
hoped so. It had taken an obscene amount of time once
they were in the city walls to push to this point.

It was November 2nd, 1491 when a panicked rider dashed
up to the Emperor. A wild look was in his eyes as he
told his great leader the terrible news: the Spaniards
had landed.

***

Greater Things in the Greater Picture: Death's Wind

***

30 years ago...

He rode. He was thinking as he rode. His entourage new
best that he did not want to be disturbed while he
thought. Besides, they were tired. He was pushing them
rather hard: the Austrians were laying siege to Buda.

For a few years after his father's death he had held to
that course, his father's choice, to abandon the throne
of Hungary to hold back the Turk. Now he could do so,
no longer. Really, he'd had his doubts for quite some
time. Why sacrifice his people for the so-called greater
good? Couldn't he and his hold just as well as the
greedy Greeks?

The Regent that his father, Hunyadi, had left behind had
grabbed the throne. He had tried to follow his father's
footsteps...but could not. The fool had lost an army to
the Austrians! Of all the things to do! /Now/ the
Austrians were at the very gates of Buda and Pest.

This could not come to past. The cities would not fall.

The Raven flew north.

Corvinno was coming home.

***

What's happening in Morea is hardly taking place in a
vacuum. Ideas percolate out. People to react to things
that are happening or things they think are happening.
Others yet still spin things their way too. The fat
lady sings and Madame Butterfly flaps her wings.

Corvinno had left the Moreans and marched north with an
entourage of his own troops. He would be successful in
their war to expel the Austrians. In 1469, he'd even
lead an army to sack Vienna. However, he would not hold
it. He would turn to the south and east for his lasting
conquests. Ironically, he'd produce a great
'Stab-in-the-Back' Legend. Even while the Turks and the
Moreans were clashing in some great battles, the Turks
were not just fighting them. They were sending out armies,
though more along the traditional Ottoman armies – spahis,
infantry conscripts and vassal Trapezuntine heavy cavalry.
The target in this case was Serbia. Specifically, they
were attacking Belgrade. It was to be part of a
subordinate general's plan to flank the Albanians. The
Serbs were making a great fight of it. They were holding
out against massive odds and very few allies. A great,
noble sacrifice was upon them. The exact heady stuff
that ethnic legends are made of! The Turks were on the
verge of forcing a collapse of the defenses – starvation
and disease were marching with the Turks this time – when
the Hungarians showed up. The tired, though not disease
ravaged or starved, Turkish army was forced to give up the
siege after a battle turned the tides against them. The
general, being competent, successfully avoided being pinned
between the city and the new Christian army.

The Serbs threw open the gates and greeted their saviors...
only to find that the Hungarians were not there for the sake
of relieving the Serbs. They were there to take the kingdom
for themselves. That they would, and when the exhausted
defenders of Belgrade attempted to resist, the Hungarians
went wild and sacked it quite thoroughly.

Hungary would go on to expand into taking Wallachia and
modern Yugoslavia. They would also contest Bulgaria with
the Turks for quite some time. The reason that the
Hungarians would be able to do so was that, when he had
time, Corvinno had been tinkering with the Hungarian cavalry
like Constantine did for the Morean infantry.

He hadn't held to having large numbers of heavy infantry:
in his view they were just too damned slow. Holding a
large land based army meant mobility and that meant for
the time period, horses. Lots of horses. Corvinno would
recognize that the gun was an up and coming weapon. He'd
try quite a bit to work on getting one that would fire
from horseback. He wouldn't be successful, though he
would advance pistols along nicely. He would resort to
having dragoons: infantry that mounted and moved on
horses, but fought on foot. Accompanying them would be
a contingent of heavy horseman, lancers in the Polish
style. When the gunners would dismount, his lancers
would as well to provide a thin, but effective layer of
armored lances to receive charges and hold horsemen at bay.
It also gave him a heavy lancer contingent for charges.
They, in their way, would be as disciplined as the Morean
infantry. Corvinno had absorbed the idea of
'drill-drill-drill' with relish. Finally, there would be
the rest of the cavalry. These would be mounted with sabers,
bows, and light armor. In the end, the blend would be
three gunners, once lancer, and three standard cavalry.
There would also be a contingent of artillerymen.
Corvinno's successors would replace, at great expense,
most of the mounted troops with pistoleers when the wheellock
became available.

Between the Danube and the Balkan Mountains would switch
hands frequently over the next century. Sometimes the
Hungarians would push as far south as the Rhodope Mountains;
sometimes the Turks would push as far north as the
Transylvanian Alps. Once the Hungarians sacked Edirne.
Once the Turks took and held against a countersiege Belgrade
for over a year. Most cities between Transylvanian Alps and
Rhodope Mountains were leveled: the war had taken a bitter
edge to it and turned genocidal. All that remained of the
peoples there would be those that could see the armies
coming and get out of the way.

One of the greatest battles ever fought between the two
was the second attempt at taking Edirne by the Hungarians
in 1512. Here Cem's Dagsilsilesi – 'Mountains' aka his
heavy infantry - and his son's Yil – Umur's 'Wind' –
would meet and defeat the Hungarian cavalry. Even so,
the wars between the Turk and the Hungarians would be
the stories of epics.

History is more of a tapestry than a single thread.
While the Turkish-Hungarian Wars were definitely a
colorful one of this TL, if a bit red tinged, there
are other cords being woven.

***

The Bitter Taste of Retreat

***

December, 1491

Back. Ever back.

Thomas cursed those damned Spanish swordsmen and their
damned spiked shields. So many of his comrades had
died, they'd be fairing better had not so many of
their swordsmen been killed in trying to take Naples.
The thrice damned Spanish would thrust their shields
under the pikes and then…

He shuddered. The fact that they had /any/
swordsmen left and Manuel had transferred some of
the pike to swords was all that kept them from being
slaughtered.[FN1]

***

Manuel and his army were indeed being forced back.
The Italians on his flank, the Spanish to his front,
one he could beat: the Italians quite handily and
fight a draw with the Spanish…but together…it was
just too much. With the state of his army, it was
pure skill on the part of his generals that kept the
army from disintegrating. It was anything that /he/
was doing that helped. His cavalry were barely able
to defend the supply lines at all. Defeat was
starting to look like an ever more likely possibility,
even probability. Taking the Kingdom of Naples was
already a very lost cause...

Back. Ever back. His army greatly harried. He
always bloodied his enemies, or rather his army did,
but every time, the stress grew greater, the
frustration grew higher. He was working on snapping
like a dry twig. This war was his fire, and he was
quickly drying up. His generals were muttering
amongst themselves about what to do. None wanted to
rebel. The consequences back home could be great...
they were all aware of what might just happen should
disunity be unveiled…the Turk might force the passes
of the Olympus

Finally, Manuel lost it. He declared he could defeat
his enemy! His supply lines were growing shorter,
while there were growing longer. Theirs even had to
go over the mountains now! He conveniently ignored
the wonderful roads his own troops had laid down.
At Calciano, he declared, he'd make his stand!

His generals muttered and wondered. One did put
forward that he'd seen them through so much already.
Surely, he'd know best. Surely, their leader would
see them through. Surely, he'd bring victory at long
last.

Using his remaining cavalry as a screen, he dug in.
Ensconced in the mud, his army made ready. Pikes out,
guns ready, and swords brandished. His back to the
river. The city and its walls on his flank. He,
himself, roared like a lion to the Spanish and
Italian wolves.

There, in that bitter, bitter fight, lost his life
to a flight of Italian arrows. Fortunately, his
generals had realized the danger of getting caught
with no way to retreat and set troops to build
bridges while the others dug in. Some historians
in the future would argue that had the generals
thrown themselves completely behind the Emperor,
the battle could have been won. They noted that
the Spanish and Italian coordination was terrible –
it was, extremely so. Others counter that Manuel
should have retreated faster, much faster to give
his troops time to rest and recuperate. Those that
study this period in detail realized Manuel was just
screwed. Heavy infantry can't march quickly. His
cavalry was small to start with and was badly
depleted. Above all, if not for the iron discipline,
his army would have imploded long before.

A fraction of his troops, sans Manuel, would make it
from the battle over those bridges. Only 1200
infantry and 300 cavalry remained. The commanding
general was a one Crocodeilos Cladas. IOTL he was a
thorn in the side of Ottomans. Perhaps not the
largest thorn, but he was one that would appear time
and again to lead Greeks in revolt. ATL he is a
general under Manuel and since he was more than
competent, Manuel requested his assistance in his
Italian Campaign. One thing that Cladas was known
for was his unto-the-last-breath attitude. Here, he
when his emperor, fool though that emperor was, fell,
he would not give up the fight. Cladas salvaged what
and whom he could, refusing to surrender. He would
later write /the/ treatise on fighting retreats for
the Morean Military Academy at Mistra. Within sight
of Taranto, and salvation through evacuation, with
only half the troops he'd escaped Calciano, Cladas
would be pinned again.

His Spanish and Italian opponents had taken to heart
some of the rough lessons that the Moreans had taught.
The one that had already been digested was a simple
one: Moreans must be destroyed. Despite Cladas'
brilliant fighting retreats, and all he could do with
all the tricks in his hat, the Spaniards and Italians
pinned him against the Gulf of Tarnato.

There was only one reason why he was able to escape
death's cold sickle. He was outnumbered 10:1 and
his troops hungry and sick. It was a very large reason.
Or rather, she was...

***

To Stop the Stomach Spain, Eat Some Granada

***

"He has requested an audience, my queen."

"What does this Genoan want?" Isabella inquired.

"He wants to fund an expedition. To China. He
claims he has another route. One not controlled
by the Portuguese."

"Another route?" Her interest was piqued by the suggestion.

"Yes, my queen. It's nonsense. South is the only way."

Ferdinand cleared his throat. "What harm would it do
to fund this man? What if, on an off chance, he's right?
Might We not gain still? More treasure can be had.
Opportunities oft come but once."

Isabella grew thoughtful.

"Send him in."

It is August, 1490.

***

Years earlier…1488

Much as OTL, the Spaniards continued their conquest
of Granada. The butterflies of Morea's survival
and growth have had some effects here though. The
TL of conquest is moved up. Isabella after hearing
that the Moreans were invading Italy pressed harder
in her quest to continue the Reconquista. She needed
to clear her plate before she could move on to helping
her husband defend the lands in Italy held in his name.
Rather than January 2, 1491 being the end of the Moors
in Spain, it would be over a year earlier. Ideas and
experience from the Moreans percolated out in Europe
and some veterans from the Morean army were adapted to
the Spanish situation. However, the ideas adapted here
are limited. The Moors are not the Turks and the
situation that the Spaniards face is considerably
different. Still the drill, discipline, and an emphasis
more on cannon for siege work do their part. When all
said and done, Granada falls in November 23rd, 1490.

One major difference from OTL is that the Spanish do
something distinctly different. OTL their cavalry up
through the end of the Reconquista was primarily a group
of light skirmishers. They used javelins and swords as
their weapons of choice. The role they filled echoes the
ghazis of Islam or the akritai of Byzantine tradition;
border warriors and raiders that would help move the
border bit by bit. IOTL, these troops would quickly
disappear, fading away as the Reconquista was considered
complete. ATL, Isabella grants lands to those that
serve and serve faithfully…in North Africa. After
consolidating a strong position in Spain and assaulting,
taking and holding a beachhead in across the straits
into North Africa, Isabella would move her cavalry there.
For the crisis that her husband faced in Italy, the
border warriors would be of little use. However, in
the Maghreb…As per OTL, the nastiness of the Inquisition
runs amok in the Iberian Pennisula. ATL it follows the
border warriors to the Maghreb.

Finally, Isabella does help her husband by sending troops
to Naples. She pushed for a bright general by the name
of Fernando de Cordoba, a court favorite, lead said
troops. The ideas he had already thought up with the
influential Morean ideas would be decisive in forcing
Manuel back from the very gates of the Castello Nuovo.
Sword and gun...sword and gun…he would land on November
1st, 1491 to the south of Naples.

***

Those Damned Pole Cats!

***

"Marcin! Wheel to the right and await my signal. We'll
take these Hungarians unawares," called Jarek.

Marcin nodded. They were more than a raid, but less
than an invasion. They were here as a reconnaissance
in force; an aggressive attempt to see what the
Hungarians were up to and disrupt it with as minimal
effort.

If they could catch this large column before they were
detected, they could hit it and force them into retreat.
They had to do this before the Hungarians could dismount
their dragoons and heavy lancers.

The summer was hot and moist, as most were here. Marcin
hoped that this latest war would end soon. Ona was
waiting for him back in Krakow. She was the sweetest
thing he'd ever met and all the better that their chance
love match in Vilnius helped weld their kingdoms together.

He began moving his troops. There was a good place to
launch a charge his scouts had told him that fit with
what Jarek had ordered. To there, he moved. And waited.

The wars for the Wild Fields continued.

***

One of the great reasons why the Hungarians would put
their wars with the Ottomans on hold would be that the
Poles would make more than a minor nuisance of themselves.
The Hungarians when not tangling with the Turks had been
expanding into OTL's Ukraine. There too the Poles were
expanding with their Lithuanian coregalists.

Initially, the Hungarians had the upper hand with taking
Moldavia at the turn of the century. The Poles thrust
east and then south, taking town and city, while the
Hungarians were tackling another war with the Turks.
As things cooled on the Turkish front for a time, the
thrust into the Ukrainian hills would start anew for
the Hungarians. The Poles, however, had made progress
and would meet the Hungarians at Melitopol. There on
the southern front they would be held and in a great
siege at Kiev, the Hungarians would be beaten back.
During that siege, in 1504, the Turks made their
successful siege and held against a countersiege Belgrade.

The Poles would eventually march out to force the
Hungarians back to Kherson in the south and Vinnytsia
in the north. Neither side would be able to take Crimea.
Again, events elsewhere prevented such for both. However,
the Khanate of Crimea would still suffer losses to both.
The Khanate would be bitter about the fact that they were
now restricted to a line south of Kherson to Melitopol.
They would be even bitterer because the Turks did not
support them against the infidel.

The Poles had a nuisance problem that was getting out of
hand. The Grand Duchy of Moscow had this peculiar Duke.
He demanded that the Lithuanians would proclaim him Caesar
of the Slavs. Note, the title didn't exist anywhere at
the time. The nearest thing was the second down rank
often held by the 'Romans' next in line to be emperor.
The poor Duke didn't have Zoe in the ATL to help cement
his claims. The Lithuanians smartly dismissed the claim.
When the Duke got to be too great of a nuisance and the
Hungarians were entangled in more of their Turkish Wars,
they marched their own army out and burned Moscow to the
ground. They would level it, salt the earth, and march
home. However, it wouldn't be before they erected a
monument. The Polo-Lithuanian King had something of a
warped sense of humor when he did it: it was a Roman
Victory Arch and engraved on it was "As Caesar would do."
In Church Slavonic and Latin. Moscow would never recover.
Novgorad would take the place of the future Russian state
and it would have quite a different flavor too.

That king would be greatly remembered by the Poles and
Lithuanians in the centuries that would pass. He was
their Great Lion. Throwing back the Hungarians would be
one of his two great feats. The other was not Moscow.
That would be a third, yet minor one from the ATL
historians POV. The second great feat would be the
successful prosecution of the wars against the Holy
Roman Empire.

The poor Habsburgs were in a bad, bad position. The
Hungarians were invigorated by Corvinno's reforms.
The Poles were on a rampage, lancing and skewering
the odd border principality. The French, Charles
VIII, was just too tempted. Flanders looked like
something they'd rather like to have back. Without
the reason to invade Italy that they had IOTL – a
step towards a dreamt of crusade against the Turk
which was spawned off of the last of the Paleologues
selling their hereditary titles as emperor of the
Romans to the French Kings (among others) – Charles
decided that Flanders and to the north would make
for better pickings, for now.

Besieged from the east and now the west, the Holy
Roman Emperor was in a terrible, terrible position.

***

Exhilarated by Zoe

***

"My brother is a fool! He risks all for a word from
a supposed friend! He risks the whole of the
Anakatalipsi for some stupid bit of land and the word
of the *POPE*! He /should/ know better! He's the
*POPE*! Since when has the Latin Church ever been a
friend of ours? That Damned Fool!"

"Yes, m'lady."

***

Concurrent with Manuel's attempt at taking Naples:

Cem did not just have a single son. Umur would have
rivals in his march towards the top. He was the
favored son, to be sure, the heir apparent, but there
was still that thought. Umur was the /apparent/ heir;
it would not be set in stone for a time yet. The other
sons would attempt their own paths to Cem's favor and
ascension to the throne.

One of these sons was Isa. While Umur tinkered with
his Yil – his cavalry – Isa made for an army of his own.
This army was more traditional in its make up. It did
indeed use gunpowder, but it lacked Cem's Dagsilsilesi.
You see, Isa was a reactionary. He longed for the old
ways. With the spahis he would be very popular. His
own plans were no less ambitious than his brother Umur's.

Isa would in fact have his father's blessing for his
grand plan. If it succeeded, then a great thorn in
Cem's foot would be broken. If Isa failed, then a
great many troublesome spahis would be out of the way.
Cem, as he grew older, had been coming to see the
spahis as much a problem as an asset. Great warriors
of the day, he could see because of their stubborn
refusal to move forward and embrace change, that they
were holding him back. Cem blessed the plan. Then he
turned his attention to another son.

What was the plan? Attacking Morea, of course. It
would be a bit more complicated than that. Isa would
turn loose his infantry to try to force the Olympus
passes and the great fortresses erected there. Once he
was sure that the Morean defenders were committed, he'd
make an amphibious landing to the south with his spahi
troops. At first, the plan went well. The Morean
Legions were committed to the fight as a way of holding
and then counterattacking the Ottoman infantry. Pikes
would thrust, harquebusiers would fire, and swords
would flash all the while men died. The troops were
being led competently. No one expected a rear attack
though. After all, the Moreans were the predominant
navy in the Aegean.

Zoe had been sitting and watching the battle with the
cavalry when a messenger rode up with news that the
Turks were landing to the south. Zoe acted quickly.
She took the cavalry with her to directly oppose the
Turks and sent another messenger for the fleet. If
she could contain the Ottomans on the beach or close
to it, the fleet's arrival would push back the
Ottoman's fleet and bombard the beachheads.
Containment, starvation, and bombardment: these
would allow her to hold the Turks. Then she'd
crush the survivors with the legions.

The battle would not go well for either side. The
Turks had too few ships to do what they were
attempting in the time period that they would have
realistically had. The Moreans would still be
stretched thin: the cavalry were always secondary to
the infantry in the Morean army. At one point, the
Moreans were starting to break when Zoe, on her great
horse (FN2), charged throw the retreaters. This, of
course, rallied her troops. It wouldn't lead to an
immediate victory, but as per her spontaneous plan,
things would eventually play out. Unfortunately for
Isa, his reactionary ways would not do well for him
when Zoe offered him quarter. Refusing to surrender
to a woman, Zoe finally said screw it, and mopped the
ground with his remaining troops once the legions
were finished at the passes of Olympus.

After it was all said and done, Zoe returned to Mistra.
She was furious. Her brother had endangered everything
and violated the 'Will of Constantine' by biting off
more than he could chew. To make things worse, had she
not acted, the Turks could have quite possibly taken a
strong hold on Thessaly again after even as short a time
as the Moreans had held it. Upon her return, she heard
news of the Neapolitan Campaign. It was not often that
the 'Charming Greek' as Zoe would be known would launch
into such nasty and colorful invective, but now she did
and impressively. Something had to be done about Manuel
and soon.

First she would need to consolidate her position. She knew
exactly what to do...

The Order of St George would always proudly proclaim that
St George was their patron saint, but equally proudly they
would boast that Zoe was their mother...

***

The French Connection

***

"Cannons! Bring the cannons!"

"They've retreated back behind the walls!"

"Bring the ladders!"

"No, you fool! The cannons!"

***

Even though the French went north, make no
mistake that they would ignore Italy. The
king, Charles VIII, had simply wanted to recover
his lost lands before taking on any other
attempts at conquest. The French still have
claim to the Ducky of Milan and are still quite,
quite enthralled with their Italian titles, but
with the even greater weakness of the Holy Roman
Empire than IOTL, recovery seemed more tempting
than expansion.

Over the course of three years, starting in 1488
after another sack of Vienna by the Hungarians,
Charles began his campaign. With the Holy Roman
Emperor distracted by raising an army to
counterattack the Hungarians, the French campaign
went well. There were a number of smaller
fortresses and castles that had to be dealt with.
Sieges take time, hence the pace of the march
north. By 1491, Charles had made it to Friesland
and declared a stop.

He made threatening moves towards the border
principalities of the Holy Roman Empire. The Holy
Roman Empire was in no shape to respond, so through
that threat of force, Charles was able to get a
treaty from the Emperor to the effect that the
occupied lands would be acknowledged as French.
This recovered the lost Flanders as well as even
expanded further north. Two birds, one stone.
Very good.

This move did make the English more than a little
nervous.

It would be his son, Louis XII that would march into
Italy. As stated, the French are still enamored with
their Italian titles. They do, also, have claim to
the succession in Milan. So, in 1497, after succeeding
his father, Louis would march into northern Italy.
There were some significant differences for this Italian
invasion from OTL. First off, it's several years delayed,
from 1494 to 1497. Secondly, the objectives of this
invasion are much less than OTL. OTL, Charles and later
kings wanted to try to conquer all of Italy. In this case,
Louis is initially taken to field just after Milan. The
pretext for the invasion is also significantly different.
OTL, the pretext was that they were building up a solid
base from which to attack the Turks in a crusade. ATL,
Louis is seeking to incorporate Milan into his kingdom.
Because of these differences, the French are better able
to exploit the fractious politics of Italy better. This
gains them more allies in their conquest, and much fewer
enemies.

The invasion goes well. France does swallow Milan whole,
crushing what forces the Duke of Milan could rally to his
cause. Unfortunately, Louis is a warrior king and wants
to be remembered for his grand strategies and great
battlefield victories. He'd rather die in his saddle,
gloriously, than peacefully in his bed. Genoa had been
irritating him by supporting the Spaniards in the south
through monetary means to defeat the Morean invasion. Louis
wasn't particularly enamored with the Moreans – he'd prefer
they stuck to the Balkans and fighting the Turks – but it
was the Spaniards that he didn't care for...

So,in 1498, Genoa became his latest tasty bit to be munched.
The invasion was relatively quick one. The techniques of
the Morean style infantry hadn't penetrated northern Italy
much, even less than the Swiss style had, IOTL, which is
to say, virtually none. The Genoan government fled to
Corsica, a Genoan possession at this time, and there
they'd send out ambassadors seeking aid. Two emissaries
would respond: the Spanish, the and the Venetians.

Sometimes, the help you get, isn't what you expected.
Or wanted.

***

Zoeful Determination

***

"General. We are pinned. We are starved. We cannot run.
We cannot fight. What do we do?"

Cladas looked down at his panicked subordinate, lifted an
eyebrow, and replied: "We die."

***

Zoe crossed over from Morea to Otranto with her guard, the
fledgling Order of St George. She could only take a single
trained legion with her as well. Despite the build up in
the logistics train that Manuel had accomplished, Zoe could
not transport many troops over in short order. Nor could
she take any further troops from watching the ever-waiting
Turks: show a sign of weakness and here they would come.
The Moreans were already showing some of those signs and if
not for the thumping the Turks had just received they'd be
there then.

Zoe's crossing would be quite fortuitous for Cladas. Like a
bad western, or the future Athenian film industry's favorite
subjects rather, the cavalry showed up in the nick of time.
Cladas was trapped and about to get squished like a bug. Zoe
changed that situation from a squish to a pause, a delay, a
vital breath of life for Cladas' barely surviving troops. A
small skirmish did take place, but the Spaniards and their
Italian allies withdrew to reform. It was the prudent thing
to do. While the allies were reforming, the Moreans did not
attack and after the deed was done, the allies ready to attack,
a rider came forward under flag of truce.

The dickering that began there would culminate in the Treaty of
Taranto in 1493. The Moreans would keep a small part of Italy;
lower Apulia/Puglia, and no more. The heel of the boot would be
"Roman" once more: from Taranto in the west northeast to Monopoli.
The Italians would take exception to the Spanish taking the
Kingdom of Naples and the city-states would fight a losing battle
over the next two years to prevent it. However, in the end, with
the exception of Abruzzo, the Spanish would take possession of
the kingdom.

By putting herself in this position, that is to say controlling
the mouth of the Adriatic, Zoe did make Morea have a very
dangerous enemy. However, on the other hand, even with bumbling
of Manuel when his luck ran out, Morea had returned to the Italian
Pennisula. The "Romans" were coming "home".

However, to the north, stranger things were brewing. Things
that could have been, but were not, had flowered in this bloodied
Italian soil.

***

Augusto Borgia

***

"Poison. My sister, Belladona, uses poison, father. She
uses poison time and again. It makes the suitors fear her,
yet sit and stare at her as though they would a seprente
tossico. Like birds caught in her gaze...No, father, that
is her weapon of choice. I use a more honest way. The
way of the spada!"

- Extracts from the campaign letters of Augusto Borgia to his
father, the Pope in Rome

***

Augusto Borgia is the analog of Cesare Borgia. He is the
replacement son of Alexander, the second Borgian pope. He
is really the product of the flap of the butterfly's wings
and who he is and what he was brought to be is different.
He is a divergent from OTL, though quite similar. He is a
tad smarter and has been trained in the Morean way of war.
He does share his father's passion though, much like his OTL
analog: the dreams of uniting Italy.

As ruthless as OTL and perhaps a tad more cunning, the first
step that Augusto would take would be to go about learning
the Morean ways of war. The successes against the Turk were
surprising for a Christian Army of the time. He endeavored
to learn what he could from the these crafty and pretentious
"Romans" (please! *cue rolling of eyes*) He was a very
young man though when he entered into the service of the
Morean Legions. He did well, but had only stayed a handful
of years, long to enough absorb and note, but not long enough
to become loyal. Loyal? A Borgia?

When the Moreans landed at Otranto, he took his leave of
them. He was not a deserter, but rather carrying a letter
to his father, the Pope. This Pope was the nephew of the
very one seeking vengeance on the Paleologue line. After
returning, young Augusto went about forming his own army.
He, despite having been a Morean infantry officer, still
preferred cavalry. He began to build his army; however,
first he had to contend with the enemies of his father,
the Barons of Rome.

These would take time, but time was on his side. He was
young still, not even yet 20, but viciously crafty and
aggressive. With poison, riot, and church he took them
down, one by one. By that time, those four years, his
small army had grown into a nice hatchling. He had his
officers and what would be today, noncoms, and he set
about to build his full force.

Amazingly quickly, Augusto would go from conquest to
conquest. First he took and crushed the cities in
Lazio through treachery, battle, and papal bull. Then
through family influence, aggressiveness and sheer
audacity he would cross the mountains of central Italy
and cross over to take Abruzzo right from under the
noses of the nearly victorious Spanish. The Pope was
able to ease the tensions created there for a time.

However, the delays caused by waiting to see what the
Spanish would do after they defeated the last of the
Neapolitan and other Italian armies allowed Florence
to send out embassies seeking guarantees of sovereignty
from the Holy Roman Emperor, French, Spanish, and Moreans.
One man would be an ambassador to three of those, but his
story and his final fate in Morea will be saved for
another time. Unfortunately, none of the states were
willing to make any guarantees for Florence. Augusto,
too, had sent his own embassies and they had the wealth
of the Papacy to grease their way.

Augusto would then march on Siena. There he would easily
crush the forces arrayed against him. From there, he demanded
the right of passage through the Republic of Florence to Lucca.
The first time the Florentines would bow to his superior might
in an effort to buy time to assemble a decent army. Lucca, then
Modena and Ferrara would quickly fall. Finally, as the French
turned their attention to Genoa, Augusto would turn to march on
the now encircled Florence.

The poor Florentines would march out their militia and
mercenaries. Pennants held high, Swiss pikes at the ready,
and the horses chomping at the bit, the Florentines would
appear to be ready to fight the good fight. They even had
a decently competent general. What he hadn't happened to
count on was that damned Borgian spending habit and the
betrayal that the condottieri cavalry would exhibit...
The Florentine militia held the center and the Swiss split
on the flanks. The cavalry were held in reserve. When the
infantry were about to engage, the condottieri cavalry
charged the militia from behind. The resulting battle was
a humiliating defeat. Florence, herself, would be stuck in
a siege for the next several months. It would be the new
cannons, Augusto's Grande Giovannas, that would punch open
the very city gates letting in his armies.

From Florence, he would return to Rome in a triumph that
echoed an old Roman Emperor's. There in 1498, he would be
crowned Imperatore dell'Italia.

***

Up in the Heir

***

I have spent a long and painful time of selecting my heir.
I cannot let the throne fall to the remaining Paleologues.
The ones that have not left for that snake Borgia's domain
or for fools' quests in far off lands with the Spaniards,
are fools themselves. The Empire cannot stand another
Manuel. Not now. Perhaps when our position is secured
and the Turk beaten so far back that he cannot threaten Us
ever again, but not now...not now...

But to whom shall I turn? That is the question! That
is my agony.

***

After the war, and the year long dickering between the
Spaniards, Italians, and Moreans, Zoe had returned to the
Morean Empire. She was fairly adept at the politic dodge
and weave, sow and reap. She had to be. She was the
spinster empress and didn't dare have married. If she had,
that man would have taken the throne and she would have
been relegated to a comparatively minor position relative
to what she was at now. In this sensitive time for Morea
she couldn't bare the thought of her phoenix empire, her
reborn homeland, her rejuvenated people withering and dying
while so young.

She realized the consequences of her action too. It meant
that she could not have a legitimate child and heir follow
her onto the throne. When she surveyed the living
Paleologeus family she also could not find a person she
felt would be able to hold the empire and even grow it.
The Anakatalipsi, the Reconquest, must go on. However,
the insightful Will of Constantine must not be ignored.
Her own brother, had he taken more troops, would have
destroyed the reborn Rome. By doing so he would have
violated two of the great rules, "Don't bite off more than
you can chew" and "Don't show weakness to the enemy."

She realized what she needed in an heir was a scholarly man;
someone that would have read and could come to grips with the
past; someone that would have an appreciation of what the
Empire needed; someone that was young enough to be molded;
someone that was unmarried as yet so that she could take
advantage of the fact for alliances' sake. She also felt
that settling on an heir would be absolutely critical to
be done quickly! Many times in the past, the Empire had
been wracked by civil war when there was no clear heir.
When she surveyed all the possible heirs she found one
bright young man to follow her.

Romanos Lascaris [FN3] had a lot of potential. Like many
in his family over the centuries he was very well educated.
He was quite physically fit and very intelligent as well.
He was also quite young, being 18, at the time of his
selection. He was also a "safe" bet too. The Lascarids
had been the previous familial line of emperors. This would
help buy off some of the very old school in the aristocracy
while cementing her own position. After all, the last
empress named Zoe wasn't exactly fondly remembered. Over
the next 13 years that Zoe would reign, she'd have him
first trained very intensely with the military: for about
a couple years each drilling with the legions as an
infantry officer; then with the Order of St George as a
cavalryman; with the engineers and logisticians; and
finally as a sailor. Upon completion of the vigorous
military training regime, which was intended to give him
an appreciation of the rigors of such a life, she sent him
on the traditional tour of the west that was strongly
suggested in The Will of Constantine.

He would not find many military innovations that would
tickle his fancy like his predecessors did, but it would
give him a more cosmopolitan view of the world than if he
had stayed home and just seen the world through books and
ambassadors. The Borgian state of the Kingdom of Italy
certainly made an impression, though not good. The
Spaniards as well made an impression, much better than
the northern Italians. His tour of the borders in the
Mahgreb almost cost him his life. The tales of the New
World especially tickled his fancy. The English he liked,
but didn't care much for their food. Except for steam
pudding. THAT he brought back to Morea [FN4] and it became
a fashion at court.

Upon return in 1504, Romanos found that he had been betrothed.
He was rather startled by this, thinking that he would have a
say in the woman that he would wed, but Zoe and his family had
other ideas. An Albanian wife was certainly not what he'd
expected either. Another Morean or Italian, yes, or even
perhaps a Hungarian or Spaniard, or perhaps on the extreme
outside edge of things, a Frenchwoman, but…an Albanian? After
a turbulent beginning, with him being mildly rude, it in the
end worked out: she has a quick wit and sharp tongue that
complimented his mind. Surina did have some initial social
gaffes, but in time the court, while not exactly liking her,
did accept her. Her pedigree was acceptable enough though,
being the granddaughter of Skanderbeg himself and a family
that claimed to have been patricians back in the Principate.
And the court, despite the nay-sayers, did accept her as 'Greek'.
The line was still fuzzy at this point between Greek and Albanian
nobility.
 
Part 2 of Part 4

Did you know that there is a limit to one's posting?
=======
***

The Fate of Genoa

***

"But you were sent to help us!"

"Yes," the Don said and smiled. "We were."

***

Genoa's plea for help had been answered by two of the
possible powers. The first was their archrival on the
Italian Peninsula, Venice. This caused no small amount
of consternation from the Genoese. However, against the
French, help was help. Venice would send cavalry and some
infantry. They generally did not fair well. The French
were more determined and a lot more numerous. Two separate
battles were fought. The end of the second one wiped out
the Venetian infantry, but the cavalry would escape.

As the city lay besieged, the second messenger arrived.
The Spaniards were going to help! Or were they? The
Spaniards would guarantee Corsica for Genoa. No French
soldiers would set foot on the island. Oh. Here's your
garrison troops from Corsica, brought here free of charge.
We knew they'd be of more use to you here, defending the
city, than on the island we're taking care of for you.
Don't worry, when the time comes, just end troops to
take over the island. Trust us.

The Genoese siege would last quite some time. The
French were able to blockade the city from shipping when
coming in protected by Genoese and Venetian warships.
Between the two they were able to keep the city, while not
well fed, far from starving. New mercenaries paid by the
dwindling Genoese coffers and the Venetians would also come
to help hold the walls. The French were forced to batter
their way in.

That they did. With the help of some money. Some
mercenaries were bribed during a night watch to poorly
close a sally port. The French poured in the portal.
After nearly two years of siege, Louis has Genoa. Spain
has Corsica. The Venetians have drawn France's ire.

***

The Turks & Trebizond!

***

"Heave!"

"Hoe!"

"Heave!"

"Hoe!"

"Heave!"

"Hoe!"

"Put your backs into it! We'll get the Genoese
asps yet!"

"For Trebizond!"

"For Trebizond!" echoed back.

The galleys moved across the Black Sea like wolves
chasing down prey. Or closer still sharks closing
for a kill.

***

The Italian Peninsula and Eastern Europe were not the
only exciting places in the latter parts of the 1490s.
The Turks were not spent on fighting the Moreans. That
was Isa's scheme this time around. His failure at it
would guarantee Umur, Cem's already heir-apparent, the
throne. Umur, as you might have remembered, was the son
of the sultan than had been working on ways to defeat the
Moreans, but he was not yet confident that his troops would
be ready. It took time and practice to refine an army. His
'Yil', Wind, was still yet building steam. Its final form
would take time. Christians of the west were constantly
worried about the rumors of Umur's constant work with
falconettes.

Cem died in 1497. For some reason the Ottoman Sultans
of this time period didn't seem to even last until they
were 60. Umur had clinched the succession after Isa's by
doing two things futher.

Cem had an eastern bent on his preferred conquests. The
men that supported his rule had been spahis of Anatolia,
not Rumelia, and they had wanted their lands secured. Cem
had conquered everything up to the Cicilian Gates with one
notable exception, Trebizond. Umur had taken his
prototypical Yil and their wagon mounted falconettes to
force those "gates". The kingdom of lesser Armenia would
fall very quickly. Equally quickly, the realm of
Dhu'l-Qadarwith with the cities of Albistan, Malatiya,
and Charput would follow. A joint offensive by Trebizond
and the Turks would go into Greater Armenia. The Turks
would withdraw for the time being because Umur was more
intent on Jerusalem than provoking Persia. Trebizond
would be forced to pull back behind the river Azas. Umur
would assault and take Amid, Urfa, Aleppo, and Antioch.
Umur would start to prepare for a further offensive south
when another assault by the Hungarians would take place in
the West and the troops would be called back to Rumelia for
another bloody

Trebizond had the good sense not to attempt to raise a
coalition against the Turks when the Moreans thumped
them. They might be lions on the battlefield, but they
were as poor as church mice at this time period.
Technically, they were vassals of the Ottomans and
remained steadfast including providing the heavy lancers
required. They had done such a good job, and remained
as solid as a rock, that the Turks had taken to
subsidizing additional lancers because the Comnenes
could not afford more than a handful. In this day and
age, there are just moments when a corps of heavy lancers
were still more than a little bit useful. During the time
period, Trebizond had been growing closer and closer to
Georgia. In fact, the last Comnenes of OTL were raised
in the Georgian court. ATL, they would even marry into
the court. Unfortunately, *David would prove to be
infertile. By the time that Cem would die, the heir to
the Kingdom of Georgia had been brought to and raised in
Trebizond as an adopted Comnene.

Iosef Comnenus' joint expedition with the Turks after he
succeeded David against Greater Armenia would unite his
two kingdoms and begin their interesting development as
an alternate Orthodox kingdom on the Black Sea. The
reason why Iosef had been forced to retreat to the Azas
River valley had everything to do with his army. True,
he had his 1000 lancers, but the rest of the army was
made of light infantry: either javelins with short sword
and light shield or archers: neither with armor beyond a
light helmet or equally light shield. To make matters
worse, he only had about 3000 of them total too: 1200 of
them bowmen. Retreat he did, but make sure there was a
solid link and increase the size of his domains he did too.
However, he did hold the richest agricultural lands in
Armenia. Time and patience would break the rest.

After successfully resisting assaults by the Armenian
claimant, Iosef would turn his attention to the Black
Sea...with the Turks constantly warring with the Moreans
and Hungarians, especially with having to use their fleet
to constantly protect Constantinople, the Black Sea was
quickly becoming hazardous to navigate with all the pirates,
especially from the bottled up Crimean Tartars and their
Greek subjects that had taken to the sea to raid...Iosef
pondered this and offered to run a small navy to help
protect commerce that made his nation viable at all and
the Turks able to finance a good portion of their own
conquests. Iosef had three warships on his own…with the
Georgian and new Armenian territories he could afford
around 10. Perhaps he could talk the Sultan into
subsidizing more…he pondered though. Might that make him
more dependant on the Sultan? Or the Sultan more
dependent on him? If he withdrew the fleet from action
and commerce choked…hm. He'd need to think that one
through. It was very important and would effect the
development of the Black Sea for centuries to come; he
didn't realize that, but...

By 1502, Trebizond's small, but worthy fleet was plying
the Black Sea and certainly making trouble.

***

The Passing of a Dynasty

***

Zoe coughed. She was cold. So cold. It hurt. All
of it hurt. She could feel the end coming. It was
her time. She would be remembered as a great queen
and redeemed her name. When a woman rose to be queen
in the western isles of Britain, she would be compared
time and again to the Grand Empress of Rome.

Zoe smiled. Painfully. All was pain.

She muttered one last time.

"Uncle? Is that you?"

And the light of her life went out.

***

Zoe was, by the time of the marriage of Romanos
to Surina, a very sick woman. She had held on by
force of will as much as anything by this point.
Her time was fast approaching and she could feel that.
However, she'd have one last diplomatic bluff to play
and with it some rewards.

The French had been very angered by the actions of the
Venetians during their quest to conquer Milan and Genoa.
They approached the powers in Italy: Spain, Morea, and
the Borgian Kingdom of Italy. Why not do away with that
annoying little state, Venice, and divide her territories
amongst themselves? France would take the lion's share,
of course, they proposed, but there were other bones to
be tossed if the others went along with it.

The Moreans and Spaniards had dickered loudly and
forcefully with each other. Neither got what they
wanted, but they'd have to do. The Ionian Isles, Crete,
Euboea and the other 'Greek' islands that Venice had
held went to the Moreans. This was good, but not all
that the Moreans wanted: they wanted the Dalmatian Coast,
especially Ragusa, for its potential tax revenue. Spain
got it instead. Spain wanted Crete. It would make a
good base of operations against the Turk. However, it
would not be.

The Italian Kingdom received some minor bits of land, and
even the Hungarians, not originally invited, received
Trieste. In a relatively short period, the Hungarians
would even throw out the Spaniards from the Dalmatian
Coast, making a powerful enemy.

France invaded from her Italian lands with Augusto Borgia's
Army in alliance. Venice would quickly fall: the French
AND Moreans blockaded her while the French assaulted time
and again across the waters. Other than the naval action,
the Moreans saw very little of land combat. There were
some skirmishes in taking the islands, but rebellion time
and again would aid their cause. The Venetians were not
beloved masters. All told it was a relatively casualty
free conquest…at least in comparison to the past for the
Moreans.

In 1505, Zoe Paleologeus would die. The last of her line,
Romanos and Surina Lascaris would be crowned Emperor and
Empress of the Romans. The Lascarids had regained the
throne and strange, strange things would begin to happen...

...and one little Italian would be at the center of it all.
Not that he would be in ways that he planned on!


*********************************************************




FN1: The Swiss dreaded facing the Spanish infantry
for precisely this reason and a battle between the
French and Spanish was almost lost for exactly this
reason. The only thing that saved the day, as the
Swiss broke, was a charge by the French heavy cavalry,
which ate the Spanish infantry.

FN2: Zoe was a /big/ woman. Her first night in Moscow,
OTL, she /broke/ the bed. ATL, she's not as large and
has a different outlook on life: after all she grew up
under Constantine's and Thomas' influence, not the Pope's.

FN3: He never existed in OTL. He is a Lascarid, though,
at Demetrios' prompting.

FN4: What would Greeks do to steam pudding; I wonder…Anise
and mint flavored sauces?
 
Morean Empire Part 5.1

-Author's Interjection from the original google post-
This is a little bit of a deviation from the main stage in
Europe. I needed to go into this when I started playing
with other rising nations. I am sure that we will have
people here that won't like this just as we had people
just as irritated with my handling of Europe. Have fun!
If I offend, I apologize.


***

Ride into Ruin

***

May, 1502

Feint and attack, feint and attack: it was the way of
the steppe warriors, the inheritors of the Mongols.
The Uzbegs had learned their hard lessons well. Except,
there was no way to do that here, here in this defile.

The Herati leader looked out over the
battlefield from his perch. The Uzbeks were
trying to force the pass directly north of Herat.
He grunted. Had they more troops, or had they more
sense, they could take Herat. Not this time, not
this day.

His own troops were not all that different.
They used lance and recurve bow, much like the
Uzbeks did. However, he dismounted his troops
and made sure to pack a great deal of archers
on the heights to either side of the pass.
The air was so thick with airs a djinn could
walk from shaft to shaft up to heaven itself.

The ground was bristling with the shafts.
Too bad they couldn't double as stakes
embedded in the round for cavalry; however,
the nearness of city made it possible to
continually fire so many arrows. The Herati
logistics line was nearly as short as it could be.

The shear volumes of arrows were more
than sufficient to stop the cavalry
charges dead in their tracks. Had that
Herati leader known, he'd realize that on
a much smaller scale, he was repeating the
battle of Valian between Jalal al-Din and
the Mongols almost 300 years prior.

The primary difference was that there
was the pop and puff of smoke from random
firearms.

This would be his day. The Uzbeks
would be defeated.

Yakub Amhad Khan was well pleased.
He would defeat the Uzbeks and be the
hero of the day.

***

Yakub had succeeded in defeating the
Uzbeks and forcing them back. His
stature among the local populace had
grown immense. He was a local noble.
He had been a nobody. Someone that
wouldn't have led up to anything
important save for the small changes in
his life to this point. He was living up
his day. Feasting in the great and well
deserved admiration and adulation of his
people. Frankly, it was going to his
head too. Rather badly.

For a whole week a feast had been
thrown for him. Herat was no uberpoor
place at this point. Sure, the Mongols
had raped it, repeatedly, but they'd come
around to using it as their capital in
the end and left it, well, not well off,
but well enough. They could definitely
celebrate this once. They'd held their
own and fought off the Uzbek army that
had come to do a Tamerlane.

Yakub might have eventually fallen
back down into obscurity. Many
people have their day in the sun
only to watch it set. He had only
been a minor noble and nothing that
those greater would have given much
thought to. That could have changed.
Or they might have slowly eased him
back down again. Or, given that this
place was as much Afghan as it was
Persian, they might have just killed
him or had him killed.

However, a Persian Army came.

It was led by the newly minted Shah,
Ismail Safavi. The Shah had pulled
together a force to try to repulse the
Uzbeks and reclaim Herat for Persia. As
a result, his force was plentiful for the
task, which it would have been used, but
much smaller than it would have been
otherwise.

The men of Herat, however, were not in
the mood to submit to anyone. Grumbling
abounded. Afghan blood flowed true even
then.

As an honor guard of horse, the Herati
defenders escorted the Shah back to
their city. He had his own guards to
come as well, of course, but they were
definitely in the minority. The Persian
Army encamped to the south. A feast again
was called. The Shah honored the great
defender, Yakub, once again.

Unfortunately, over that dinner, tempers
flared. The Shah's guards clashed with
some of the younger hot heads at the feast.
Things quickly got out of control. In the
fighting that was taking place, the Shah
was killed. Yakub was horrified. There
had to be guards that escaped and the very
least Herat would be sacked under the guise
of revenge.

He was right, at least as far as a
guard escaping. That badly wounded
soldier made his way back to the
encampment. It took him longer
than it should have, he had lost
his horse in his escape, but to the
army's encampment he did make. His
delay and the generals' delayed
response as they debated what to do
bought time for the Heratis.

The next morning, just before
sunrise, the Herati's crashed
into the Persian Army's camp with
every man able to wield a sword,
ride a horse, or draw a bow. Yakub
had acted quickly, very quickly,
seeing that the doom of his city
was at hand unless he did.

The sheer cojones exhibited in the
attack was amazing. The battle
itself once launched was a wild
melee, but, fortunately, Persian
armies of the era were not well
drilled machined and they had
barely even started to think about
assembling for a possible noon
attack on Herat.

Yakub's attack was bold, bold beyond
wisdom, bold beyond belief.

So bold that it might just work.

***

The Battle's done,
We think we've won,
So we sound our Victory Cheer!

So where do we go? From here?

***

The battle itself had been wild melee
that nobody knew the outcome until
after the dust settled. So confused
was it, that half the surviving
victors rode or ran off in retreat at its
end under the belief that they had lost.

In the end, Yakub wiped the sweat from
his brow. He looked around and was
surprised that he and his ad hoc army
had won. The casualties while high
were definitely in his favor by a large
margin. The Persian Army simply had
been caught unawares and the shock and
ferocity of the Herati attack was more
than enough to make up for their slap
dash plan.

After giving praise and policing up
the wounded, Yakub returned to Herat.
Within a day, talk began to spread.
Did the Shah have any heirs? Would
that heir return and sack Herat? What
sank in very quickly was 'oh, shit!
What did we just do!?!' Arguments
followed like water. Knives even
flashed as they at times turned ugly.
Whenever possible, Yakub calmed and
parted those that could be, stopping
the fights before they could get out
of hand. He'd had enough of the
consequences of that, thank you very
much!

A week passed and an imam approached
Yakub. This imam was a bit less than
there by modern standards. Touched by
the deserts would say. Others might say
he was a wild man of the mountains. At
different times and different places
madness has had its place though.
Sometimes a touch of madness is a great
inspiration.

This imam was definitely considered holy
by the locals and when he demanded to see
Yakub, Yakub put aside what he was doing
for this holy man. The imam hobbled
forward to whisper in Yakub's ear.
Yakub's eyes went wide. His wild-eyed
guest turned to the crowd that was present
to pronounce something strange. None there
ever forgot that which was pronounced either.

An angel had come down to earth and spoken
to the imam many years ago, he cried out.
The imam was tasked to find the one that
was Iskander's descendant. Iskander had
left behind a woman with child in these
lands. Unacknowledged and left to fend for
himself, Iskander's line had not died in the
west. It had quietly flourished in the
remotest and hardiest of Iskander's lands
until Allah had decreed it time for it to
awaken.

The imam would find that man, the angel had
said, at the end of an impossible battle.
The imam would know the one he sought by his
eyes. He would have Iskander's eyes: one eye
brown, one eye green. The imam had found the
descendant, he cried out. If the people of
Herat were true Muslims then they were to
follow this man and take back Iskander's throne.

The imam cried out once more that God was Great
and that his task was done. He then promptly died.

To say everybody was in shock would be putting
it mildly.
 
Morean Empire Part 5.2

Following Prophesy

***

June, 1504

Yakub rode south. He had an army at his back.
Hillmen, tribesmen, cavalry, and scouts all
arrayed before and trailed after him. It had
taken two years from the imam's declaration to
consolidate his position. Two very, very bloody
years it had been too.

He'd harrowed his foes in Herat driving them
before him. More often than not, he'd wiped
them out. No mercy was something that his
people had often practiced. Here was no
exception. The Uzbeks had come back, and
he'd defeated them. Babur had ridden out to
meet him and after an indecisive battle, they
agreed since Babur was looking to the east and
south that there was enough of a world for the
two of them.

With each victory, he gained in standing.
With each battle, his prestige attracted
more followers. When he was ready, he rode
to the west. Persia, great Persia was a pearl
not to be cast aside.

It would take nearly eight years to subdue
Persia east of the Zagros. It had been weak
before Ismail Safavi had taken control and was
still weak by the time he'd marched on Herat.
He'd needed a victory to help cement his
position. The Uzbeks were to be that victory.
Alas, the Heratis didn't cooperate. After his
death, Persia fell into civil war as different
claimants and regents for other claimants made
their bids. In some ways, it couldn't be better
for the Herati army: this wasn't all that different
than what many of the Afghans faced every day:
small shifting alliances? No sweat! As conquest
moved forward, Yakub's army grew.

He was nearing the finish of the conquest of
Persia by 1510. Only the western most
provinces were untouched. He had yet to
cross the Zagros Mountains and there was a
small rebel army to contend with that was on
the loose. Nothing he couldn't handle.

In August of that year, another imam
approached him. He came with dire
warnings. This second Imam warned
that all could be lost if Yakub
crossed the Zagros without the
blessings of Allah. To receive
them, he must do some very specific
tasks. At first Yakub got angry.
Hand't Allah promised him he was to be
Iskander's heir? Why must he do these
things? The Imam coolly responded that
even Iskander had consulted Allah as best
he could at the time and followed the
advice given.

Yakub chewed his lip and listened to
what the Imam said. His temper died
as quickly as it had flared.

***

The mosque was most impressive. The
work had been done and done well. It
was also nigh complete. It recalled
the Hasht Behesht, but had courtyards
and gardens leading down to the sea. It
also may a great deal of use of the iwan
entries with bulb domes above. To the
east and west were domed minarets as well
as rising up out of piers in the water.
Marbles and granites. Ellipsoid arches
and inventive stone balconies. All of it
was impressively decorated. It was a
monument of an age.

Yakub definitely thought so.
Expensively so.

It was also fated to become something
not unlike a Shiite Vatican. Or perhaps
Avignon

Yakub knelt and received the Imam's
blessing. The first task was done.
Now he must provide an heir.

That he could delightedly do.

The politics that came out of Yakub
selecting an heir were not altogether
clean. Yakub wanted his son, at the
time 10 years old, to follow him onto
the throne he'd carved out of the flesh
of Persia. Yet he knew if he fell before
his son was of age, all hell would break
loose again.

He only wanted to emulate his great
ancestor to a point!

He designated a great and trusted friend,
Karim Omar, to be the designated heir
until his son was of age. Should Yakub
fall before that time, Karim was to take
the throne until Yakub's son came of age.
Karim was a good and honest man, devoted
to Yakub. He agreed. He really didn't
want the honor that was placed on him here,
but he accepted it all the same. That
Karim was reluctant and only willing to
take the throne temporarily under dire
circumstances was why Yakub picked him.

Unfortunately, his designations did set off
a small civil war. Some of the Persians
were less than happy with the selection.
They didn't want a Herati that wasn't
Iskander's descendant on the throne. One
that was such was barely acceptable. One
that was not, on the other hand would not
be stomached. Yakub would successfully put
down the rebellion. It would be bloody.
It would not be pretty what so ever.

It wouldn't take all that long.

***

Prophesy Fulfilled? Prophesy Denied?

***

May, 1512

He returned to Bandar Abbas. That city was
increasingly becoming his capital even if he had
not planned it so. The Great Mosque of the Sea,
the one that he had to build to fulfill one of
Allah's tasks so that he might continue his
westard conquests was located there. It was
also a convenient locale to regulate trade. A
navy based there controlled the Straits of
Hormuz and trade ships found it easier to come
and go from India.

He had designated the succession and made it law
that each of his heirs in turn would do the same.
Never, he felt, should the succession be left in
dispute because a Shah had not selected one.
Additionally, he had crushed the uprisings around
Istfhan against his choice of heir.

After a day of rest, he took to the Great Mosque.
He sought the imam. Had he satisfied Allah's will?
Could he, the servant of Allah, march west to
continue his prophesied conquests? The Imam wanted
to be able to tell him he could, but the Imam knew
differently.

You must find Iskander's Horse, and then, and only
then, will you, Shah Yakub, be able to launch your
westard conquests. If you are worthy, you will find
his horse to the East. You will know the horse by
the fact that it has toes.

Yakub was dismayed. However, he was a pious enough
servant that he obeyed.

***

To the east he rode, east of Herat in search of his
horse. An impressive and mildly disciplined army rode
with him. Along came some basic Turkish field cannon –
falconettes. He would fight his way to the north,
taking Balk. He'd fight his way east and south, forcing
the Moghuls through the Khyber Pass. He crushed Uzbek
army. He crushed Turkmen army. He sacked Tashkent. He
even fought an impressive battle, but indecisive, with
Babur again. Then made a mutually acceptable peace.

After six very long years, leaving a border to the north
on the Aral, east on near modern Afghanistan's, and south
on the great mountains there, he did not find Iskander's
fabled horse.

He returned home a frustrated and disillusioned man. His
attitude was bad enough at this point that he considered
marching through the passes with an army anyways. He didn't.
He couldn't. Not in his heart of hearts. His faith was
still strong, if a bit cracked, and the damned Uzbeks were
rebelling again. He really didn't like Uzbeks.

He'd spend the rest of days crushing rebellions in his
eastern provinces, rebuilding qanats and irrigation systems,
fortifying his positions, and stabilizing his realm. He
would pass on a relatively peaceful, pretty stable kingdom
to his son when he died in 1537.

And that would be no small thing for any man!
 
Morean Empire Part 6

Statherotita dia mesou Synedrio kai Xanaktizo


Iosef Comnenus' reign would be a fruitful one. Other than
the campaigns with the Turks against the Armenians and
skirmishes on the Black Sea with the Italians and pirates it
would be a peaceful reign. His primary objective after the
Armenian War was to solidify his throne to be able to pass
it onto his son.

His task was not a trivial one. He was welding Caucasian
Georgia to Greek Trebizond with Armenia between. It would
not be a trivial undertaking and the changes necessary to
ensure the growing 'Empire of Trebizond' and its survival
were going to be difficult. Difficult it might be, but
possible it was.

It must be remembered that Trebizond, while often described
as 'Greek' was more cosmopolitan than even Constantinople.
A very good example of this is Trebizond's own 'Hagia Sophia'.
Nominally, it is very Byzantine yet has elements that are
Italian, Turkish, Georgian, and more. The veneer of
Trebizond's society might well be Greco-Byzantine, but it was
as different from Morea or the Turkish portions of Greece as
could be with its undercurrents that were rather different.

The first of the changes to Trebizond was the rebirth of
an ancient institution. The Trepuzantine Empire was a child
of the Byzantine Empire and that a continuation of the Roman
Empire. However, Trebizond had never had a Senate of its own.
Indeed, the Senate had been a nonexistent body in the Byzantine
Empire since the Macedonian dynasty had held the throne of
Constantine nearly a half millennium ago. Other rulers in other
places had found the ability to summon the important nobles to
the capital with the intent on consulting them to be quite
useful. That was, in part, why Iosef recreated the Senate.
Who the important nobles were, however, was another problem
altogether.

The rules that governed who gained a seat in the Senate
were, of course, Byzantine. At least it would be true for
the first generation of senators. Iosef selected them
among the leading men, handpicked, yet not all his
supporters. Some were the foremost borderers defending the
empire from Turk, Persian, and worse. Others were officers
from the navy. Still others were appointees from the
merchants that had climbed high enough. Others still were
merely friends or rational enemies.

However, Iosef made it very clear. The position would not
be hereditary. It had to be earned. His rules for
defining 'earning' that position were pretty straightforward.
To be eligible a potential senator had to be a noble that
served among The Chilia (the one thousand heavy lancers that
Trebizond maintained), a navy officer, or a borderer with
distinction. Iosef felt that the risk of merely serving
would have the extremely dangerous potential of producing
idiots that wouldn't be of any help.

The powers of the Senate were extremely limited. It was more
use as a polling place of the prominent nobles than anything
else. Its one real power was that if there was no heir to the
throne it had the power select one. In time, this would
change. It would not be for many generations though.

With the increased tax base that Iosef had at his disposal
with the addition of Georgia and the fertile agricultural
regions of Armenia, he no longer needed the Turkish subsidy
to maintain the Chilia. Instead he turned it to two ends.
The first was the maintenance, but not expansion, of the
Trebuzontine fleet. Secondly, Iosef recognized that trade
from the east, indeed trade in general, was rather important
to his little empire.

The remainder of the subsidy and whatever extra revenue he
could scrounge he turned towards building roads, improving
ports, and expanding and renovating markets. From Morea, he
imported road builders, but the progress made by the Morean
engineers was slow. Trebizond was even more rocky and
mountainous than even the rugged lands of the Morean Empire.
It would take time, but in the end, all of the cities, towns,
larger villages, and trade routes would be connected via solid
roads that would last well into the modern era. The ports
were dredged where needed. Others were fortified even more so
than before with cannon, fortresses, and walls. New piers
were added. Proper customs houses were built. The Market of
Iosef cropped up in many of the cities in Trebizond with their
sheltering eaves and protection from the winds and elements.

The final improvement for the empire would be the building
of great cisterns and granaries. Iosef felt that the time
might come when his empire would need the protection of the
walls and mountain defenses. Sieges are nightmares.
Starvation and disease often would kill as much as the
attackers could if not more. Even with the improvements in
defense and position that he'd overseen, Trebizond was still
in a vulnerable position.

Despite all the undertakings that Iosef saw to in his reign,
it should be remembered that he was very conscious of the
almighty monetary unit and did not, could not, overspend.
The Empire of Trebizond was a small nation even with the
inclusion of Georgia and portions of Armenia. Also, Iosef's
reign was a long one. He would pass on his crown to his son,
Giorgi Comnenus, in 1509; decades after he'd inherited it from
David.


***

Mettarythmistis Basileus


Giorgi Comnenus was an able man. He was intelligent
and was noted for his wit and sense of humor. He was
not cut from the same cloth as his father. He felt that
the greatness of a king, in his heart of hearts, was
measured as much if not more than not in the greatness of
his conquests rather than merely shoring up and enrichment
of a kingdom. The deeds of the western cousins in Morea,
especially of Constantine, Michael, and Romanos made his
blood boil in jealousy.

However, he wasn't a stupid man nor rash. He knew his
limitations, the limitations of his kingdom, and the
limitations of his military. This forced him to
consider what he could and could not do. He had to
consider his plans quite carefully. At one point, with
a jealous moment, he considered, foolishly, attacking
the Turks to accomplish in the east what Constantine had
done in the west. When he sobered, he discarded the
notion. There was no way that he could triumph, even
with the improvements to the empire that his father had
accomplished. He considered attacking ports along the
Black Sea. The pirate and Italian menace was significant.
If he could take the ports, then he'd have more funds which
to work with. Yet, he had to discard this too. His navy
was too small and could not, even with the drafting of
civilian transports, transport his army across the sea.
He considered to the north. Was there anything worth taking
in the lands of the Kuban? Trade ports, yes, but he came to
the conclusion that his army was too small and too poorly
equipped. True, he had impressive lancers, as heavy and
disciplined as any in the world, yet his infantry was
extremely poorly outfitted. They were so light that a good
wind would blow them over.

Well! He could do something about that! However, he
couldn't afford even to replace and train even all of his
infantry. He had inherited too many ongoing projects from
his father. Gnashing his teeth, he realized that he could
at least upgrade and train some of his troops. To that end,
he picked his skirmishers. First he raised another thousand
troops. Then replaced the javelin and shield of one thousand
of his infantry already under arms with the latest guns were
purchased from Morea. Two thousand gunners were trained.
They were not the heavily armored troops that the Morean
equivalents were, but rather were closer to light infantry
still. They did keep their short swords though. Giorgi was
more than a little skeptical that the guns would always
prevent the enemy from closing to hand-to-hand combat. The
remaining eight hundred light infantry discarded their javelins,
but retained their swords and shields. Swordsmen were still
very useful in storming cities and castles and Giorgi did not
want to waste his gunners on such things unless he had too.
The bowmen he had he kept. Bows were still of use as well in
his mind. He did, however, create a mobile artillery corps.
Due to the nature of the terrain that he'd be fighting through,
he purchased primarily mortars. After ten years, he and his
army was ready. He even had campaign in mind. To the East...


***


Nikitis Basileus


He sat upon his horse and watched his troops stream past. The
Chilia formed an impressive display of equine and human
discipline all one thousand of each plus their associated
retainers. The twelve hundred bowmen tramped by, lightly armed
and armored, but useful for the upcoming siege. His swordsmen
– The Liontari (Lions) - small in number, but enormously
ferocious. Finally, his proud accomplishment, the gunners
marched by as well all two thousand of them.

The battles fought to now had been rather one sided. He was
very, very proud of that fact. The towns had fallen with
relative ease and easily replaced casualties. Now was only
the siege of the city. Once it fell...

The artillery passed him by last. He grinned like a crocodile.
Yes, Baku would be his…

***

The invasion of Azerbaijan went relatively well. That was
only the case because the Persians, formerly using it as
the base of Safavid conquest of Persia, were busy in the east
and had not been across the Zagros Mountains in years.
There were many rumors as to why, but little in the way of
facts. So long as they didn't bother his conquests, Giorgi
would give them little thought. They were simply not his
problem. The more modern army of Trebizond was more than a
match for the Black and White Sheep Turks. Also the claimant
Safavid was in Baku, to be sure, but with his armies largely
gutted and destroyed by the Iskanderids, he remained a
relatively toothless beast: one that Giorgi meant to put out
of its misery.

The siege of Baku started off well. The sallies from the
city were met, blunted, and routed. In some cases, they
were even wiped out. The pounding of the walls began.
However, despite the walls slowly being turned to rubble
and the towers were all topless heaps, the city would not
fall. The truly frustrating point was when his artillery
began to run short of ammunition. All assaults on the city
had been repulsed. Not terribly costly, to be sure, but he
couldn't afford massive losses with the size of his army.
He was no rich Morean Emperor with a vast population. The
thought frustrated him all the more.

Fine, he'd settle down to a siege. He ringed the city as
best he could, arching around the city from coast to coast.
His infantry held the sconces and trenches. The Chilia
patrolled and crushed any sorties. If Baku was pinned
against a cliff, it would have worked and well.
Unfortunately, the city had access to the Caspian and that
meant there would be no starving them out quickly. He bided
his time and waited for more ammunition to arrive.

***

Thalassia Lysi



Want! want! want! Under the harvest moon;
Want! want! want! Thro' dark December's gloom;
To face the fasting day upon the frozen flags!
And fasting turn away to cower beneath a rag.
Food! food! food! Beware before you spurn,
Ere the cravings of the famishing to loathing madness turn;
For hunger is a fearful spell, And fearful work is done,
Where the key to many a reeking crime is the curse of living on !
For horrid instincts cleave unto the starving life,
And the crumbs they grudge from plenty's feast but lengthen out the strife –
But lengthen out the pest upon the fetid air,
Alike within the country hut and the city's crowded lair.
Home! home! home! A dreary, fireless hole –
A miry floor and a dripping roof, and a little straw -- its whole.
Only the ashes that smolder not, their blaze was long ago,
And the empty space for kettle and pot where once they stood in a row!

***

Giorgi and his advisers sat and argued. It had been three
months since the siege had started. Their own supplies were
growing short. The supply lines from Trebizond, even the
Georgian territories, were stretched thin for as relatively
poor a nation as she was. It had to end and soon. If Baku
could be taken, then the expenses would be paid for. If not,
it would be a long time before Giorgi would be out campaigning
again. That thought was a horrifying one for him. Not only
would he not be out in winning himself glory, he'd be forced
to be remembered as the Basileus that had been a military
failure.

One faction put forward the damn all consequences push against
Baku. Rush the defenses, push in and take the city. The
defenders cannot be in good shape at this point, even with the
trickling in of fish and sea stuffs: all farmlands from
Azerbaijan had been cut off. No grain, save the small part
that could be brought in over water was making it in. The
detractors hit back that Baku was still sending out sorties.
The corpses of those that were killed did not look starved.
Hungry, yes, but not yet starved. Giorgi was also leaning
away from this in his gut: if he succeeded in taking the city,
but lost most of his army, he'd still not be out campaigning.
He'd probably be spending the rest of his reign reconstituting
his army just due to the financial constraints.

Another month passed. He reconvened his councilors and
generals. He'd made up his mind. In they'd go, he announced.
Damn the consequences. One of his more thoughtful and quiet
advisers piped up: if Baku had access to the sea, why not do
the obvious and deny it to them. Build ships and hunt down the
fishing boats. Giorgi thought about it. He planned a Caspian
Fleet anyways so let it begin here.

He sent for three crews of his navy. It'd hurt his Black Sea
operations that three of his galleys would be out of operation
until replacement crews were trained, but the setbacks would
be acceptable. The ship builders came as well. With
transported materials, Trebizond set about building a trio of
galleys. When the ships launched, they quickly succeeded in
forcing Baku's fishing vessels back to port. The city slowly
succumbed to starvation. It had been closure than Giorgi had
realized: the defenders of Baku had been getting far more food
than the average metropolitan. Disease broke out and a third
of the city died. When the sorties stopped, the infantry went
in. The city fell hard, but fast.

Giorgi was triumphant. Trebizond now stretched from Black to
Caspian Seas.


***

Isychia Prin Thyella

"...we'll station troops here. The cavalry will patrol along
the passes and keep watch. With the lords and their retainers
scattered through here, we'll hold it quite nicely. Now, we need
to..."

A messenger rushed in.

"Emperor!" the lad spluttered, "He comes! The Sultan comes!"

For a moment, Giorgi nearly panicked: At the head of an army?
The thought danced like a demon in his head, nearly possessing
his heart and soul.

***

Even though Giorgi wanted very badly to be off on the next
conquest, he still had preparations to make first. The first
was that he had to reconstitute his army. While 20% casualties
were not terrible, they still prevented him from going onto the
next conquest. New troops had to be trained and integrated into
his standing army.

Additionally, he had to resolve what to do with the newly
conquered lands. He garrisoned it with lords through land
grants and troops that were not of his frontline formations.
The exception was in Baku where he placed a very strong
garrison of infantry, a small detachment of heavy cavalry -
which he grumbled he had to find replacements for in The
Chilia – and the new fleet there. He put a second heavy
garrison at Xacmaz in the north. That way the frontiers of
the coastline were secured.

Additionally, as much as it made him gnash his teeth to be
forced to spend the money, he had to extend the expensive
road network into Azerbaijan to integrate it with the rest of
the empire. When it was done, trade from Aktau and Atyrau and
further east, all the way to China, would flow easily across
the Empire. In effect, it opened a northern route for the Silk
Road by passing even the greatly enlarged Iskanderid Persia.
The consequences and enemies it would produce in the future
were nontrivial. That would be for the future though.

With the increased tax revenue, Giorgi went about expanding
his Black Sea navy. The three galleys dry-docked were recrewed
and sent back out to see. Another six ships were built and
commissioned as well. These last six were larger than the
standard Trebuzontine galleys. It was not signaling an
abandonment of the tradition galley. These were intended to be
warship, to be sure, but they were also built with larger hulls
so that they could transport large numbers of troops or
supplies. In effect, they were heavily armed transports.
Giorgi wanted to be able to move a very large portion of his
army to strike at cities around the Black Sea.

While preparing for his plans, unfortunately, the Turkish
Sultan whom he was still nominally a vassal of, came calling.
It was not meant as a threat of conquest, rather the Sultan
wanted to size up how Trebizond was doing: he intended on
calling on the Emperor's help for another campaign of his own.
He was pleased and a little troubled. Trebizond was going to
be a problem if it was not curtailed, but that was not his
original intent for his visit. He had his own campaign
planned and he wanted the Trebuzontine army, as was required,
to assist him.

Giorgi and the Sultan instantly liked one another. Their
personalities meshed quite well and both were educated men
that enjoyed a good argument. They debated and talked and
feasted and generally made merry. The Sultan decided that the
Emperor was not really a threat to him personally, nor his
domain, but he still did not want this ambitious man's
grandchildren causing his own grandchildren too great of harm.
He hated to do it, but he announced that the subsidy that had
been in place would be, after this campaign, withdrawn, since,
of course, Trebizond was now able to raise and provide for the
lancers on their own.

***

Mataiono Schedio

***

"Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaammmmmmmmmmmnit!" Giorgi cursed.

"Damn him to Hell!"

"Father, it is only a delay. It need not be the end of your
plans."

Merely a delay, thought Giorgi, desperately. The thoughts of
a youth and his disbelief of their own mortality. He could feel
his. Ooooh, he could feel his.

***

To say that this frustrated Giorgi was to be polite. Just
when he was on the verge of making vast amounts of trouble on
the Black Sea, he was being declawed. At least temporarily.
He might - might! – be able to do a single campaign if the
expedition with the Sultan was fruitful with booty. Otherwise
he'd be cursed to sit at home and merely revel in the glory of
the conquest and vanquishing of the Safavid claimant.

He leaned forward in earnest and asked what the campaign was
that the Sultan had in mind. The Emperor knew through his
embassy in Constantinople and through the merchants that went
abroad that the Ottomans had conquered Mesopotamia, old
Palestine, the Red Sea coast of Arabia, and even an expedition
down into conquer Yemen. They in effect held the Arabian
Peninsula. However, Trebizond had not been called out to
action since the battles to break through the Cilician Gates.
Thus, Giorgi had his suspicions where the latest campaign
would be, but he wanted to be sure.

Egypt, replied the Ottoman Sultan, the time has come to
destroy the Mamelukes for once and for all. He'd already
fortified the Ottoman side of the Sinai Peninsula to be used
as a staging point. The Sultan was already moving all the
armies he dared down for this. He felt that they would
probably be enough, but he wanted to be sure by calling in
the Trebuzontine troops as well. He didn't say was that without
the subsidy and with a bloody campaign, Trebizond would be a
while in recovering and thus not a threat, but still a resource.
Potentially even ripe for a conquest. That would be his son's
work though, he thought. It was either Trebizond or Egypt and
Egypt if not taken by him might be taken by the cursed Iberians.
That was not to be risked.

Giorgi agreed to meet his obligation. He would even bring
his son and heir, Ameirin. His son needed to be exposed to
the Ottomans, their culture and their troops. He might be
facing them in his reign. Here was an excellent opportunity.

In 1527, Giorgi led his 5,000 troops of his field army south.
South to do battle with the Mamelukes in Egypt.

It would be a very long march and an even longer campaign.
 
The Byzantine Empire historically in 1452-3, which included Constantinople, a few islands, AND the Morea, was able to muster 6,000 troops for the defense of the city, and those were mostly residents conscripted, and very poorly equipped. Remember that Urban offered his services first to Constantine, who couldn't afford any cannon.

The OTTOMAN EMPIRE, which included most of Anatolia and the Balkans, did not maintain a standing army as large as the one this TL postulates for the Morea, a piss-poor country that historically was able to maintain an army of a few hundred men. The population of the entire Morea didn't much exceed the size of the army concocted here. When Greece achieved independence, the pop was about 750,000, most of which lived in Attica and the Aegean Islands. The Morea had been horrendously depopulated by continuous warfare since the Fourth Crusade. The idea of maintaining a force of 24,000 is just batty. The Morea's population in 1830 was perhaps 300,000, and in 1450 must have been a fraction of that.

The entire Ottoman army, fully mustered, was about 60,000 men, of which around 10,000 were the standing army, not the hundreds of thousands usually listed in old histories; the fact was that the Ottoman army at that time was totally superior to its enemies, in training, tactics, equipment, and command, but not numbers.

The TL, while considering Swiss tactics, totally ignores Ottoman tactics, and just assumes Mehmed would hurl his army at fixed formations in frontal assaults. If he had proposed such a strategy in war council, his generals would have killed him instantly and replaced him with someone competent.

While a romantic scenario, this had about as great a likelihood of happening as Lichtenstein defeating Hitler.

It is a good read though.
 
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