Chapter 44: Undercurrents

Milan, the premier commercial and industrial city in northern Italy, is the jewel of the Lombardy Plain.

Once the capital of the Western Roman Empire and the center of northern Italy, the city's well-developed infrastructure enabled it to control the entire Po River Plain.

During the Visconti era, Milan, as the capital of the duchy, attracted the best resources, had a large population, and flourished in commerce and industry. It dominated over half of the nation's silk and textile industries and metallurgy, serving as the heart of the entire duchy.

The people were wealthy and prosperous, living in peace and harmony.

Neither the meteoric rise and fall of the Montferrat Duchy, the gradual expansion of their arch-rival Venice into the interior, nor the ambivalent attitudes of the Pope and the Holy Roman Emperor could disrupt their idyllic life.

However, they soon realized that their country's peace was not due to its favorable geographical location, but to its powerful ruler.

Following Visconti's death, foreign powers coveted their wealth and gathered in droves.

The newly formed Republic of Ambrosia was weak and unstable, plagued by constant internal strife and external interference, until the enemy tightened the noose around their necks and they finally declared their intention to defend the capital.

But it was too late.

The three forces had surrounded the ducal capital from the east, west, and south, leaving only the north open.

They took turns probing the city walls and often launched surprise attacks in the dead of night to wear down the defenders' will.

Thus, the low-intensity siege lasted for a whole month.

The people in the city were demoralized. Rumors circulated that the Republic's parliament was considering crowning one of them, and everyone was discussing who should be the duke:

Sforza? Or Palaiologos?

Fortunately, no one was willing to entrust their fate to the Venetians.

Overall, slightly more people favored Sforza. After all, he was the husband of the former duke's illegitimate daughter, and his mercenary corps was the most elite.

Outside Milan, at the Montferrat camp...

Late at night, Isaac and John lit candles and huddled together to discuss the day's events.

Earlier, in Sforza's camp, the three factions had held their third round of negotiations.

The Venetian envoy was not too demanding; aside from making excessive demands regarding trade, he only requested a few border towns.

They knew that occupying Milanese territory would be difficult and not worth the cost.

These greedy merchants simply wanted to see their former enemy, the Duchy of Milan, fall into ruin so that they could take over its trade routes.

The main struggle at the negotiating table was therefore between the two powerful families of Palaiologos and Sforza.

Initially, mercenary leader Sforza insisted that John IV withdraw from all occupied territories and demanded to inherit all of Milan's lands, but this was rejected outright.

After all, neither the emperor nor the pope had recognized John IV's title of duke, so he should not take himself too seriously.

The next few rounds of negotiations were a tug-of-war between the two sides, with Venice sitting back and watching the show.

Just three days ago, news finally arrived from the long-silent Albanian battlefield.

On 5 December 1447, Skanderbeg ceased probing the Venetian army repeatedly, feigned a shortage of food and supplies, and withdrew to Krujë Castle.

Eager to prove himself, the Venetian commander led his army in pursuit and was ambushed by an unknown force in a valley. Skanderbeg immediately turned his horses and charged back.

Caught between two forces, the Venetian army was defeated.

The remnants of the army retreated to coastal castles to await reinforcements.

On 20 December, Skanderbeg gathered his troops and laid siege to Dania.

Initially, the siege progressed slowly due to a lack of siege weapons.

However, on Christmas Day, cannons purchased from Hungary finally arrived.

Dania fell on 29 December.

On 1 January 1448, the Venetians, who had been sitting back and watching events unfold, finally became impatient and demanded that the three-way talks be restarted.

"John, are you saying that the Venetians are putting pressure on us?"

"Yes, they do not want to see continued chaos in northern Italy."

John paused.

"It seems that Skanderbeg has revealed to the Venetians that you secretly funded the Albanian war in an attempt to bind yourself to him."

"So the Venetians are now hostile towards us?"

John nodded. That was certain.

In fact, when he first became involved in the Albanian War, Isaac had already anticipated this outcome.

There are always gains and losses; that is the way of the world.

"There's no need to worry about that for now. The Venetians are very pragmatic. Once they realize that they cannot continue to invade Albanian territory, they will quickly negotiate a peace agreement and demand trade privileges."

According to the original history, this group of merchants was soundly defeated by Skanderbeg and retreated to their castles. Ultimately, they did not mobilize a large army to seek revenge; instead, they formed an alliance with Albania.

"How do the Venetians intend to handle the Milan incident?"

John pulled out a piece of paper detailing today's meeting.

"They seem quite conflicted. On the one hand, they want the war to end quickly so that trade can resume; on the other hand, however, they don't want the Duchy of Milan to become too powerful."

Isaac thought for a moment.

"What do they say about the territories we have already occupied?"

"Sforza insists that we hand over the city of Pavia, but he says that we can keep the rest of the territory."

"The Venetians are ambiguous on this issue."

"I have a few suggestions. Would you like to hear them?"

Isaac looked into John's eyes.

"Our interests are tied together. Please speak, dear brother."

"Firstly, we must not relinquish any territory that we have already occupied. Pavia is strategically important as it is the gateway to Milan. Without it, we cannot hold the rest of our occupied territories."

"Last time, you told me that the local forces in Parma seem to be in contact with you. Try to win them over and take Parma."

"Secondly, you could send envoys to the Vatican and the court in Vienna to assess their intentions."

"The Visconti previously supported Felix V as the antipope, so I don't think Nicholas V will support his son-in-law. Ensure they remain neutral."

"Frederick III hates Sforza. Your father, the late Marquis Gian, fought for the Holy Roman Emperor and rendered great service to the Empire. Frederick III has a natural fondness for you."

"You could send a trusted confidant to Frederick III's court to request the title of Duke of Parma."

John was clearly worried.

"What if Sforza insists on war? Their army is almost as large as ours."

"Then let's fight."

On 15 January 1448, after the city's forces clearly rejected John IV's olive branch, the Montferrat army withdrew from Milan and headed south to Parma.

On the same day, the Venetian-occupied territories rebelled, and the Venetian army withdrew.

On 20 January, unable to endure the prolonged famine any longer, the Milanese parliament surrendered to Sforza and agreed to crown him Duke of Milan.

On 24 January, Frederick III declared that he did not recognize Sforza's title and conferred the title of Duke of Parma on John IV instead.

The following day, Duke John opened the gates of Parma, armed with Frederick III's decree, and the city's forces took advantage of the situation to submit to him.

On 30 January, an enraged Sforza marched south, stationing his troops in Pavia and facing off against the Montferrat army.

With the second phase of the Italian Wars about to begin, envoys from the emperor and the pope arrived in Pavia to begin mediation...

...

Cairo, Saladin's Castle.

Located on the outskirts of Cairo, Saladin's Castle is nestled against a mountain. Since its construction by the great ruler Saladin in the 12th century, it has served as the palace of the Ayyubid and Mamluk sultans.

Many renowned sultans have left their mark here, including Saladin, Um al-Khair, Baybars, and Barlas. They issued edicts that shook the world and reviewed their formidable armies here.

In the council chamber, a few nobles dressed in Islamic attire stood sparsely. On the throne, an old man slowly opened his eyes.

He was the Sultan of Egypt and Syria, the guardian of the two holy cities, and the highest secular authority in the Islamic world.

Mamluk Sultan Shakkam.

His cloudy eyes scanned the ministers below, and he moved his body wearily, trying to straighten his back.

The last great ruler of the Mamluks, Barsab, died in 1438. During his reign, he had struggled to unite the emirs of the different regions, strengthen trade with the Red Sea, and suppress dissent. This had brought a glimmer of hope to a country that had been devastated by the Black Death.

Following his death, his weak son, Yusuf, ascended the throne, but was overthrown by the powerful minister, Shakkam, within a year, and exiled to Cyrenaica, to the west of the desert.

After becoming sultan, Shakkam was forced to cede a large portion of his power in exchange for the emirs' support, which led to the rise of local forces.

At the same time, the emirs of Syria rebelled and refused to obey Cairo's orders.

In the south, the Nubian blacks, incited by the Ethiopian Orthodox Christians, continued to rebel, while the Karaman Beys raided the northern borders occasionally. Even the Kaffirs from Europe had established a foothold in Sirte and were forcibly spreading their religion.

During his ten years in power, Shakkam traveled everywhere trying to patch things up, but he was unable to unite the fragmented empire as Barsba had done.

He was old, and his body was gradually weakening, so he could no longer do many things himself and had to let the local authorities handle matters.

Glancing at the ministers below, he paused on a familiar figure:

It was his incompetent son and heir, Mansur.

Would he be able to hold on to the Sultan's throne after his death?

Shakkam looked at the others; they were all arrogant and ambitious, just as he had once been.

He closed his eyes wearily.

"Sultan, the Hafs Dynasty has sent us a message inviting us to join them in attacking the Qafila of Surt and driving them out of the Maghreb."

"Emir Yusuf of Bilinchi suggests that we act quickly and request assistance from Cairo."

The vizier Ashraf reported from below.

Shakkam opened his eyes.

Ashraf had once been his best friend and a staunch supporter of his ascension to the throne.

After Shakkam became Sultan, Ashraf also benefited greatly, becoming the most powerful local Emir.

However, Shakkam knew very well that his ambition was as great as his own.

"The Hafs dynasty? Where did the note come from? Who signed and stamped it?"

"Tunis? Kairouan? Tripoli? Sfax? Misurata?"

The old sultan stared fiercely at the prime minister.

"Misurata?"

"Oh? Since when can Misurata represent the will of Tunisia?"

"Does any local emir have the authority to decide to go to war on behalf of his sovereign?"

The old Sultan almost shouted these words.

The ministers remained silent, but they all looked coldly at the Sultan, as if they were accustomed to his anger.

"Tell me about this Grand Duchy of Surt."

Shakkam finally calmed down.

The intelligence chief stepped forward.

"The Grand Duchy of Surt was founded by Isaac Palaiologo in 784 AH. He defeated the local forces and established a firm foothold."

"The Palaiologo family forcibly converted the people of Surt and sold all Muslims into slavery."

"They pretended to be a fleet from Rhodes, attacked our merchant ships, and plundered our coastal villages."

"In addition, they bought large numbers of white slaves, which deprived us of military manpower."

"So..."

"So you agree with your vizier's idea to go to war?"

Shakkam shouted angrily at the intelligence chief.

"Where exactly did they buy these white slaves?"

"Most of them are Slavs, with a few Goths. They seem to be avoiding provoking us; they're clearly steering clear of the Circassians and Caucasians."

The intelligence chief had no choice but to tell the truth and did not dare add anything else.

Sultan Shakkam 's expression softened slightly.

"If Yusuf wants to send troops, tell him to contact Misurata himself. A pincer attack from both sides should be enough."

"You may leave."

Shakkam waved his hand weakly.

The prime minister and the intelligence chief exchanged glances; their eyes were filled with resentment.

Everyone left.

"Father!"

His son Mansur did not leave, instead waking his old father from his slumber.

"What is it?"

"You cannot allow those kafirs to commit evil deeds on Allah's land. We must drive them away!"

"Your royal Mamluks have not been deployed for a long time. It is time for the world to witness their prowess once more!"

Shakkam looked at his son, who was unusually serious, and his face turned red with anger.

"If we attack, who will lead the army?"

"Yusuf, son of Bardsbe?"

"The Prime Minister, Ashraf, who is watching us closely?"

"Me, at over 70 years old?"

"Or you, who are incompetent!"

"Don't you have any idea how many people covet my Royal Mamluks? During the last Damascus rebellion, the vizier and the intelligence chief — those two scoundrels — begged me to hand them over, exactly as they are doing now!"

"Don't you know how I got this position?"

"Yusuf is just as stupid as you, but he's smarter because he knows how to read people!"

"Idiot!"

He rushed forward and yelled at his son.

Mansur's face darkened, and he turned away and left the hall without saying a word.

Shakkam Sultan staggered to the throne, and the attendants rushed over to support him.

"Even you can't stand your Sultan?"

Shakkam pushed the attendant away and kicked him in the neck.

"Your Majesty, I..."

"Drag him away and behead him!"

The old sultan watched as the poor attendant was dragged away by the guards and heard his screams cut off by a sharp cry.

It was getting dark, but none of the attendants dared to light a candle.

Shakkam sat in the empty hall, letting the darkness slowly swallow his hunched body.

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