While Laszlo hurried eastward, rewarding the warriors who had campaigned with him, the far west of the continent saw a long-smouldering conflict flare to a new climax.
March 1470. Paris welcomed two eminent guests: the mighty English potentate Earl Warwick, the "Kingmaker," and George, brother of King Edward IV.
Louis XI gave the fugitives from across the Channel a lavish reception, then summoned his uncle the Duke of Anjou and the duke's daughter Marie.
In the carriage to the palace, the aged Duke René of Anjou sat despondent; he wanted nothing more to do with the world, yet his headstrong king insisted on seeing him now.
Opposite him, his daughter Marie was in high spirits, fussing over her young son's clothes and only occasionally glancing at her father.
"My dear father, my brother will recover; you've engaged the kingdom's best physicians, have you not?" she said.
Yet her words carried little real feeling.
It was not callousness toward her ailing brother, Duke John II of Lorraine; it was simply her best chance to turn the tide with her son in tow.
As for the brother who had chased the crown of Naples in vain and seen his efforts in the Kingdom of Aragon collapse, she could only wish him luck.
René ignored his daughter's perfunctory comfort.
A married daughter is like spilt water.
Ever since the Treaty of Tours had "sold" her to the English to secure the family's hereditary lands in Maine—forcing her to wed the mentally-deranged English king Henry VI—father and daughter had drifted apart.
Now Marie's world revolved around her precious son Edward. As the last direct Lancastrian, the boy had a claim to England's throne, and she meant to seat him upon it.
She had no illusions about the mad husband still locked in the Tower of London; she had once fled France and left him to Edward IV's pursuing troops.
René knew he had wronged his daughter, yet how could he not grieve?
His only surviving son—and heir to the house of Anjou—Duke René II of Lorraine, had caught the plague ravaging the army in Aragon; by the time a French warship ferried him back to Provence he was at death's door.
Even the most seasoned physicians doubted they could drag the poor man back from the brink.
René had thought himself inured to loss after a lifetime of pain, but the sorrow of burying a child shattered the old man who once prided himself on his iron will.
He had virtually withdrawn from his nephew Louis XI's court. Unlike the earlier retreat to Provence to bide his time, this time he was simply weary and wished to end his days in peace.
The succession, once of no concern, now tormented him.
Should John II die, the last direct heir would be John's son Nicolas—frail and unlikely to live long.
John II's tragedy made René dread that his grandson might also precede him in death.
Then the old man who had watched the twilight of the Anjou dynasty would personally close its chapter.
No doubt his nephew Louis XI would hold a week-long banquet to celebrate before annexing every Angevin fief.
That prospect filled René with sorrow and dread, yet he was powerless to avert it.
Of the three great cadet branches of the Valois, the Anjou line faced extinction, the Orléans line survived only in a seven-year-old boy under Louis XI's thumb, and only Burgundy—through generations of shrewd politics—had won autonomy and even threatened the crown itself.
This summons, René suspected, concerned their next move against the Duke of Burgundy.
Memories of the old Burgundian duke, Philip the Good, who had repeatedly defeated and humiliated him, and of Philip's indomitable son Charles, stirred René's long hatred—and an unwelcome twinge of envy.
René looked up to find Marie no longer attending him; she was coaching her son on how to behave before the king, and his guilt deepened.
John II's fate now lay in God's hands; René resolved to help Marie achieve her ambition while he still could.
It might ease his conscience a little.
"Don't fret, Marie—little Edward. His Majesty would not summon you without firm intent; Louis XI never wastes a gesture."
"Edward IV is dangerous. In the last League war he pledged to fight for Duke Charles of Burgundy; only Warwick's rebellion kept his army at home."
"Even so, the king barely prevailed against Charles; should the English land again, the realm will stand in peril."
"Now that Warwick is defeated, if Burgundian Charles invites him to retake the crown and reignite the war, His Majesty will face a dire crisis."
René paused for breath, then continued his briefing.
"Only by placing your son on England's throne—under your guidance—can the king secure peace and, perhaps, at last crush Burgundy."
"I understand," Marie nodded, still grave. "But I fear some new mishap. I beg you, Father, obtain the king's utmost support—my sole request."
"Rest assured: while your cousin still needs Anjou to check Burgundy, he will not stint."
Hardly had René spoken than the carriage halted at the palace gate.
Edward sprang down first, delighted by Louis XI's summons and intrigued by the English crown his mother so often mentioned.
Marie helped the aged René descend, and the three of them, without delay, followed the usher into the royal palace.
Brussels, the ducal palace of Burgundy.
Charles was learning the latest on the Kingdom of England from his minister in charge of foreign affairs.
"Your Grace, although Edward IV suffered defeat and humiliation in last year's war, his brother Richard helped him escape disaster.
This year the rebellious Earl of Warwick stirred up trouble once again; after the plot was exposed he fled to France with his ally, Edward IV's other brother, the Duke of Clarence, and they're now under the protection of the French king's court."
Listening to the report, Charles relaxed for a moment, then frowned. "A farce born of uneven spoils—damn it all.
Because of those sordid affairs I missed a total victory over Louis XI in the last war!"
Charles naturally refused to admit his own errors had caused the League of Public Weal's second war to end in failure; he blamed the outcome on many factors, one being Edward IV's complete disappearance after promising support, leaving Charles afraid to risk a decisive battle with Louis XI and thus forfeiting victory.
The reason Edward IV had been unable to come, of course, was that domestic traitors kept making trouble for him.
The Earl of Warwick—long suspected of colluding with King Louis XI—had lately begun funding the Lancastrian remnants in northern England to launch repeated rebellions, keeping Edward IV on the run.
In the end, during a hasty campaign to suppress a revolt, Edward IV's army met defeat, and Warwick at last bared his fangs.
He joined forces with the rebels and crushed Edward IV completely, slaughtering the queen's father and two brothers before the king's eyes—all three had been Edward IV's favored courtiers.
Afterward the famous "Kingmaker" Earl of Warwick imprisoned Edward IV and forced him to make a series of humiliating promises in Parliament.
Every time Charles recalled those events his head ached.
At the time he'd been busy with economic and political reforms in Burgundy, modeling his rule on the emperor's to tighten central control.
Only a few months earlier he had created the post of chief tax collector to coordinate the duchy's total revenue of nine hundred thousand florins.
He'd also turned the estates-general of Burgundy's western provinces into his personal rubber stamp—after letting his troops massacre the people of Ghent, no city dared defy the "Tyrant's" rule.
With ample funds and the duchy stabilized, Charles continued to improve his armaments, planning a thorough reorganization of the army into a sounder standing force.
Just as he was preparing further military reforms, news arrived that Edward IV had been captured.
For a time Charles feared his "good ally" had been beheaded; his second wife, Edward IV's sister Marie of York, wept daily before him, begging him to send troops to rescue the kingdom, until he could bear it no longer.
At such moments Charles missed his good brother-in-arms Laszlo.
Since allying with Laszlo, Burgundy had hardly ever come out on the losing side—help ranging from carving up Savoy to tying down Switzerland was everywhere to be seen.
When Laszlo heard Charles wanted to raise new troops, he disbanded some imperial mercenaries and transferred them straight to the Duchy of Burgundy.
When the second League of Public Weal war began, Laszlo sent his finest imperial legions to assist without a word of hesitation.
At the time Laszlo himself was preparing a new Crusade, yet he threw precious troops into the French theater without a second thought.
Compare that to Edward IV: whenever Charles needed him he played dead and demanded conditions; when he finally landed in trouble, Charles had no peace either.
People can't stand comparison, and goods can't stand sorting.
In the end, even after Laszlo diverted troops to aid Burgundy, he still scored a huge victory in the East.
As far as Charles knew, the populace was already circulating numerous nicknames for the emperor, though no one knew where they'd started.
The earlier titles "the Great" and "Guardian of the Faith" had fallen out of fashion; now nicknames like "Ottoman-Slayer" and "Liberator of Rome" were all the rage.
Charles, who'd attended the Imperial Diet, had seen the emperor's heralds strain to recite every one of his titles; if they added these nicknames as well... The thought that he'd accepted the emperor's help yet still let Louis XI outmaneuver him made Charles's temper flare again.
Fortunately the latest news was favorable: after many twists and turns Edward IV, with his brother Richard's support, had turned the tables and forced the rebel Earl of Warwick to flee to France.
Yet, knowing Louis XI's character, Charles could guess with his eyes closed that this affair was far from over—indeed, it had only just begun.
Freed from Warwick's shackles, Edward IV could at last rule England unchallenged.
Once he'd fully stabilized the realm, Charles could invite him to land on the coast of France and expect a satisfying answer.
In Charles's plan, as soon as he finished reorganizing his army he would invite Edward IV to counter-attack the mainland and reopen the Anglo-French war.
During that interval Louis XI would hardly sit idle while the Burgundy-England alliance gathered strength; what he would do was reconcile the mortal enemies Warwick and Marie of Anjou, then set them jointly against Edward IV of York.
As Edward IV's brother-in-law, even if Charles wanted nothing to do with the English royal family's mess, he had no choice but to intervene.
"Your Grace, Edward IV's foes are now all assembled at the French king's court. Should we send an envoy to London and seize the chance to reach an accord with the English king, so we can strike France together again..."
"Hmm, pick someone—anyone—and send him."
Charles waved dismissively; although he planned to ally with Edward IV against Louis XI, he placed little real hope in it.
Edward IV, he had concluded, was hardly a reliable ally.
"By the way, the emperor should be returning to Vienna soon, shouldn't he?"
"Yes, the Duke of Armagnac, serving as ambassador, has already received news of the emperor's triumphant return."
"Fetch the Duke of Armagnac; I have matters to discuss with him."
Charles drummed his fingers on the arm of the ducal throne, a conflicted look on his face.