21st December 1492, Month 10 Year 10 of the SuaChie Calendar.
Shene Palace, London, England.
Shene Palace, nestled upon the banks of the Thames, was not the grandest of England's royal residences, but it was the one most suited to the character of its current occupant.
In his private study, King Henry VII, founder of the newly established House of Tudor, savored the controlled tranquility he had fought so hard to secure. The morning was peaceful, the atmosphere solemn and methodical, mirroring the state of his mind: a fortress-built brick by brick upon the ashes of the War of the Roses.
Henry, a man of moderate stature and shrewd countenance, did not allow himself the luxury of absolute confidence. Six years on the throne were insufficient to erase the echoes of the uprisings that had attempted to wrest the crown from him, such as the farce of Lambert Simnel or the persistent threat of Perkin Warbeck.
He traced the polished edge of his oak desk with his thumb, a gesture denoting deep concentration. He recalled with an almost accountant's coldness how he had ended each revolt.
First, the victory on the battlefield—costly in men and resources, but necessary. And then, the true prize: the confiscation of the lands and assets of the supporting nobles.
Every executed or pardoned rebel meant a direct flow of revenue to the Crown, strengthening the private treasury and diminishing his dependence on an often-fractious Parliament.
It is not enough, he thought, with a political, rather than personal, avarice.
The Crown of England was rich, but his ambitions were greater. Deep down, he yearned for more simple revolts, those incompetents enough to be swiftly suppressed, allowing him to confiscate even more resources without destabilizing the realm. It was a cruel thought, yet eminently pragmatic: a poor king was a puppet of his nobles, and his greatest desire was to stand at no noble's mercy.
His mind drifted to the other line of defense for the House of Tudor: his children.
Fortune had smiled upon him in his marriage to Elizabeth of York, a union that, besides legitimizing his throne, had afforded him the blessing of progeny. Two male heirs, Arthur and the young Henry, and two daughters, Margaret and Mary. The succession was secured; the Tudor foundation was of stone.
His firstborn son, Arthur, was already pledged to the Infanta Catherine, daughter of the Catholic Monarchs. This betrothal was the closest diplomatic tie England had forged in years, securing friendship with the most dynamic kingdom in Europe at that time—a kingdom that had just expelled the Moors from Granada and boasted an enviable unity.
Henry, like a chess master, viewed his descendants not only as family but as diplomatic pieces. He intended to use them to forge closer bonds, both local and foreign, to strengthen and secure his kingdom.
His ultimate goal was not mere self-benefit, but a legacy: he desired to unify all the British Isles under Tudor power, and that his descendants might live in a position of unassailable security, never having to endure the precariousness and civil war that he had suffered.
His elder daughter, Margaret, was the key instrument in his Northern diplomacy. He wished to marry her to the Scottish Prince, James IV. Officially, this was intended to persuade the Scottish King to cease supporting Perkin Warbeck, the irritating Yorkist pretender.
However, the true thought circulating in his mind was far more ambitious: to finally unite the Scottish territory with the English crown through their descendants, a move that would change the political map of Europe, or at least that of the British Isles.
As his mind weighed diplomacy, dowries, and the economic impact of these movements, a subtle knock on the door interrupted the cadence of his thoughts. A servant announced an arrival.
"Your Grace, the noble John de Vere, Earl of Oxford, requests an audience."
"Bid him enter, if you would be so kind," Henry said, straightening in his seat.
John de Vere was a man of trust, one of the few lords who had remained loyal to the House of Lancaster and who now served the Tudor King with fervor.
John de Vere entered and followed the noble procedures as customary: the formal salute, the reverent kneeling before Henry's majesty. "My Liege, may the peace of God attend you."
"Rise, John. Peace is a luxury we must earn each day," Henry replied. He noted the subtle concern on the usually unshakeable countenance of the Earl. "I note a shadow upon your visage, my good friend. Inform me of what troubles you."
John stood, his expression becoming tense, and his voice dropped to a confidential tone. "They are tidings from the Western ports, Your Majesty. News from sailors returning from their trade routes with Spain. They say they have seen something… unusual."
Henry gestured with his hand for him to continue.
"My Liege, the Bristol sailors, who were en route to Seville to trade furs and iron, noticed a group of foreign ships in waters near the Channel. Which was strange enough. But upon drawing closer, they noticed the true oddity."
John paused to gather his thoughts and observe Henry's expression, then continued: "One of the ships was far larger than anything they had ever seen. It was no monstrosity, Your Majesty, but elegant and swift. They, who trade constantly and know every nao and every carrack in Europe, swear they have never seen a vessel like it."
The atmosphere in Henry's study tightened. The King leaned slightly forward, his concentration now absolute. In his mind, this was no mere curiosity; it was a disturbance of the balance of trade.
Following an imperceptible nod from Henry, John continued the account in greater detail. "They mentioned that the ships bore a main sail with a Sun and Moon forming an eclipse. And that the shapes closely resembled our caravels, but were of a vastly superior size. As an additional detail, the other, smaller ships accompanying it appeared slightly larger than the naos of Portugal and Spain."
Henry sank into thought. His mind, habitually oriented towards ledger books and noble lists, began to trace geopolitical maps.
Hypothesis 1: The Mediterranean.
He initially thought it might be some Mediterranean nation, Venice or Genoa, wishing to trade directly with the Isles. But it made no sense. Why send a ship of that caliber so far, navigating the dangers past Cape St. Vincent, when they could obtain English wool in Flanders or France, closer countries?
Hypothesis 2: Desperate Iberians.
Another idea that crossed his mind was that the Iberian kingdoms' desire for spices, especially that of the Catholic Monarchs, had reached such a point that they decided to cross the uncharted Western Sea once and for all. But that seemed to him a logistical madness, befitting a visionary or a lunatic.
However, in the midst of this rumination, something illuminated his mind when he thought of the uncharted sea.
He perfectly recalled the rumors in the courts that the Catholic Monarchs, and even the King of Portugal, had planned explorations toward the west, hoping to find the route to the Indies without passing through Venetian control. And his own merchants had not returned with recent news of concrete expeditions.
The King's Instinct: The appearance of a superior-sized ship, coming from the west and belonging to no known fleet, must be linked to those explorations.
His instinct—the one that had allowed him to survive the Battle of Bosworth and a decade of intrigue—was stressing the point: The explorations succeeded. Someone had found something. And that eclipse standard was the insignia of that "something."
Henry emerged from his thoughts, his gaze fixed on the map hanging on the wall, ignoring John de Vere.
"John," his voice was firm, cutting. "Whence did they come, and whither were they bound, according to these sailors?"
John de Vere, visibly nervous due to the King's intensity, replied cautiously. "They mentioned, Your Majesty, that they appeared to be coming from the west, and were heading south. Possibly toward the coast of Portugal or the Canary Islands."
That was all Henry needed for his theory to become more than credible. If they came from the West and were heading South, their destination was, without a doubt, the Iberian Peninsula.
"John, here is your order," Henry declared, his voice low and resonant with authority. "From this moment forth, I want you to be mindful of all movements in Castile and Aragon. Specifically, those occurring at their court, in the city of Barcelona… Dispatch trusted messengers. Any news regarding new discoveries, any announcement of a successful expedition, must reach me immediately. Let not the slightest rumor escape."
John de Vere withdrew, making a deep bow, not fully comprehending the connection between a foreign ship spotted near Bristol and the court of Barcelona.
Henry, however, once again sank into thought, but this time they were thoughts of financial and political calculation. If the Spanish explorations had succeeded, it meant a new source of wealth and power was about to spill over the Iberian Peninsula.
This could finance more wars. It could buy more loyalties. It could destabilize the balance of power.
King Henry VII, the man who dreamed of uniting the British Isles, now desired to know if the fortune of the Tudors would be affected by a kingdom bearing a sail with a Sun and a Moon.
His instinct told him that this sighting was the signal that the Race Against Time he was already fighting to secure his crown was about to accelerate.
Two weeks later.
4th January 1493, Month 11 Year 10 of the SuaChie Calendar.
Shene Palace, London, England.
Two weeks of relative calm, in the current context of England, amounted to an interlude of guarded precariousness. Henry VII, in his palace, enjoyed the austere tranquility he had imposed upon the Crown.
Unlike his predecessors, his reputation had been forged in austerity, not by personal inclination, but by financial necessity. Years of the War of the Roses had emptied the coffers, and the only way to avoid new revolts fueled by burdensome taxes was to keep fiscal loads at a stable minimum. Hence his strategy of exploiting rebel nobles and consolidating strategic marriages.
His mind, however, was far from the domestic affairs of wool and taxation. He was expectant, tense, awaiting the full confirmation of the charge he had entrusted to John de Vere. He had gambled his intuition on the existence of a kingdom beyond the Great Western Sea, and corroboration, albeit partial, had already arrived.
A few days after their previous meeting, John had confirmed to him, through Portuguese commercial sources on the coast, that the exploration was a fait accompli. The Catholic Monarchs' vessels had departed, and the Lusitanian merchants had seen those foreign sails and ships a few weeks prior, which validated his hunch.
But validation brought with it new, and more complex, questions.
The Unknown Origin: If this was a completely unknown kingdom, with an emblem—the Sun and Moon in eclipse—and unparalleled ships, whence did it hail?
At first, he thought of some realm from the Far East.
He recalled reports from the Silk Road that spoke of great kingdoms, but which, historically, lacked any real naval power capable of crossing oceans. Moreover, he doubted they would undertake such a long voyage merely to reach the kingdoms of Europe, when spices and silks already had an established path.
His other theory was more far-fetched: that these ships originated from some Arab Caliphate that had secretly improved shipbuilding, copying and surpassing the designs of naos and caravels. But this hypothesis was even harder to sustain.
If this were true, the situation in the Mediterranean and Southern Europe would be much more tense and volatile, and he had not received a single report of a Muslim naval power buildup of such magnitude.
Just as he debated between the improbability of an Eastern maritime empire or a secret Caliphate, John de Vere was announced by his servant. Henry, his eagerness barely concealed beneath the veneer of royal formality, had him ushered in immediately, even accelerating the usual preambles.
"John, may your haste be rewarded with good tidings," the King urged, gesturing toward a seat without inviting him to kneel, an indication of the urgency.
John, understanding the purpose, preempted the protocol. "Your Majesty, fresh news has arrived, confirmed both by Lisbon and Cadiz. News of the Catholic Monarchs, and more importantly, of the foreign realm."
"Speak, John. In detail."
"The Portuguese merchants, Your Majesty, reported that a kingdom from across the ocean has not only arrived with ships superior to those known in Europe, but has performed an unprecedented action: they have purchased one of the Cape Verde Islands, with the express permission of King John II of Portugal."
Henry raised an eyebrow, but remained impassive.
The act of purchasing territory instead of taking it by force spoke of a civilization that preferred commerce to war, and of a wealth that could afford to pay a premium for stability.
"And the payment, John? How was the transaction conducted?"
"With a considerable number of gold ingots, Your Majesty… And they brought products never before seen in Portugal: something they call cacao, fruits the Portuguese do not recognize, and jewels of jade and other precious stones of exceptional quality. And the crucial point, Your Majesty: as soon as they arrived, they began constructing a city and a port on that island. Now, anyone may trade with them, provided they adhere to the rules of that realm, which are not stringent."
Henry motioned for John to pause, while a servant, trained in discretion, offered him a cup of tea to refresh himself, more for the tension of the moment than the temperature of the study.
The King leaned back, processing the rush of information:
Confirmation of Origin:
It was a kingdom from across the ocean, unrelated to the Asian routes. The question of whether they came from the "Far East" was obsolete; they came from the "Unknown Land."
Economic Opportunity:
This new power, which bought islands and traded with unadulterated gold, was a new seam of wealth for Europe. While they were now distant from England, in Cape Verde, Henry saw the opportunity to persuade them to settle nearer, perhaps on the islands closest to England, or to establish direct commerce in English ports. This would circumvent the Iberian monopoly.
Ambition and Realism:
Many possibilities flooded his mind. Even the idea of dominating them arose, a Viking ambition that vanished almost instantly. He would not have enough time or resources for a transoceanic naval war. But his son, Arthur, might have the chance, only if he left him a kingdom sufficiently firm and with the necessary navy.
"Is there more, John? News from Barcelona, perhaps," Henry inquired, his gaze fixed on a point beyond the window, where the leaden English sky loomed.
"Yes, Your Majesty. News from the court… the envoy commented that the Genoese explorer Christopher Columbus had returned with diplomatic envoys from this realm to Barcelona, arriving around the 24th of December. They were received by the Catholic Monarchs, and they, just a couple of days later, had agreed upon an initial, yet restricted, commercial pact."
Henry smiled with calculated coldness. Shrewd. The Catholic Monarchs had thought exactly as he had: Secure contact, but limit influence.
John continued with the most explosive news. "There is unconfirmed intelligence, Your Majesty, but it circulates among the clerics: it is possible that the Catholic Monarchs have dispatched religious emissaries to Rome to discuss with His Holiness the Pope how to proceed with this new realm of heathens."
Henry was surprised, but with an underlying satisfaction. This was the fissure he was seeking. The Church was a double-edged sword. If the Catholic Monarchs gave too much importance to religious fervor, they risked losing the opportunity to engage with a kingdom that was demonstrably generous and diplomatic.
The foreign realm had purchased the island at a premium instead of taking it by force—a sign of controlled strength—and had sent diplomats to Barcelona—a sign of respect for peace. Both points being qualities many kingdoms now lacked.
Henry, though devout, perfectly recalled how England had long scorned the Pope's absolute power in temporal affairs, and, above all, he knew the corruption rife in Rome.
He knew the Pope would intervene, not for the conversion of heathens, but because the benefits in gold would be sufficient. But at the same time, he knew the Catholic Monarchs were not so incompetent as to sever ties with that realm immediately.
He could now take advantage of either situation: Spain's religious zeal or its avarice. The most important thing was to preempt any Iberian movement and establish the first diplomatic contact at the Crown level.
Henry, with a plan that combined the boldness of a new king with the caution of a survivor, addressed John.
"John de Vere... I order an embassy of the Crown of England, diplomats of the highest trust, to be dispatched immediately to the Cape Verde Island. Their mission shall be to establish initial conversations and they are to invite this new Realm to send emissaries on an official visit to England. Emphasize England's neutrality towards any Papal decree."
John was surprised by the swiftness of the decision, but nodded with the obedience characteristic of his loyalty. "It shall be done, Your Majesty."
Henry dismissed him with a gesture, and once alone, he approached a map of the European continent.
He circled the territory of the British Isles with his finger, exhibiting confidence. He traced an imaginary line towards France, his eternal rival, with a hint of ambition. And then a line, bold and new, toward the West, with some hope.
His mind raced with thoughts of a future where England, not Spain, managed to secure exclusive trade with this new realm.
If he could secure this route, and the favor of this new realm, wealth would flood his treasury, and conquering part of European territory, or even dominating the seas, would cease to be a distant dream for the House of Tudor.
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[A/N: CHAPTER COMPLETED
Hello everyone.
As has become customary, despite my regret, I apologize for the delay.
The truth is, almost everything was ready a few hours ago, but I happened to be watching a video about the history of the Tudors, and I realized that I had omitted the fact that Henry VII's 'important' children had already been born by that time, and that I had overlooked this in the first chapter (81) because I wanted to summarize everything briefly so as not to bore you. But this time I had to include them since they will be important.
UFD: Henry married his eldest daughter, Margaret, to James IV of Scotland, an event that would eventually lead to the union of the crowns of England and Scotland a century later. He also strengthened the power of the monarchy over the nobility, in part by prohibiting nobles from raising private armies (a practice called livery and maintenance) and using the Star Chamber to try aristocrats who challenged his authority.
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Read my other novels.
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