I'm sure Elmede will think of another scheme if she had sent Zygmunt to try to claim the throne...
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The classical thing you happen to forget... do I have a son ?
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At the end of the reign of Władysław II the Egyptian and Syrian possessions will be shown.
Selective breeding in Ck2 gives such results
Well, Zygmunt will surprise with his choice later.
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Yes, until the year 1769 the game was played and described in the years 2016 - 2018, as I get closer to the year 1769 I may try to recreate the world and finish the game.
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Chapter 64 (1365 – 1370)
Chapter 64 (1365 – 1370)
The Mazovian Empire under the rule of Władysław III began to rapidly develop. Numerous new towns and villages were established, and the construction of several new castles commenced along the borders and within the territories of Egypt and Antioch. The Kingdom of Antioch expanded its borders with minimal assistance from Władysław III, who sent only small detachments of soldiers to support Bogumił in his conquests. The University of Poznań, officially opened in 1364, began to attract its first students from across the empire. The Cathedral of Saint Boniface, still under construction, was starting to take shape, although it would take many more years to complete.
Władysław aspired to make the Mazovian Empire a center of European culture, art, and science. To him, the strength of a state was not measured merely by the size of its territory or the number of soldiers it could muster, but by its civilizational achievements—worthy of comparison to those of the ancient world. This philosophy ushered in a flourishing of the arts and sciences. Artists from Italy, ranging from painters to sculptors, arrived in search of patronage, which Władysław eagerly provided. During this time, many remarkable works were created that later became some of the most important cultural relics of Mazovia.
Among them was a portrait of Władysław and his predecessors, painted by Giovanni of Pisa, one of many painters employed by the emperor. This gallery of Mazovian rulers adorned the throne room of the Poznań castle, where Władysław received visitors. These portraits were meant to impress ambassadors and all others who came for an audience with the emperor. The throne on which Władysław sat during such visits was a collaborative work of goldsmiths and carpenters—an impressive piece that, in later centuries, would become the subject of legend. Also notable was the marble monument Władysław erected to honor his grandfather, Jakub III. Placed in the center of Poznań’s market square, it depicted Jakub on horseback, one arm raised holding a sword modeled after a Roman gladius, the other holding a cross aloft. The monument stood 4.5 meters tall, with a 2-meter pedestal.
As a result of his interests, Władysław became increasingly fascinated by science, especially after acquiring a mysterious volume under unclear circumstances. At first glance, the book appeared nonsensical, with chapters that were nearly impossible to understand. However, after extended study, Władysław realized that the incomprehensible parts were written in code. After weeks of research, he managed to crack it and discovered, to his astonishment, that the writings belonged to his great-grandfather, Władysław I.
In the book, Władysław I had recorded the results of his alchemical experiments, which he had carefully hidden from the Church, fearing accusations of heresy. He also delved into the genealogical origins of the Przemyski dynasty, revealing that it traced its lineage to Przemysł I Przemyski, an illegitimate son of Zygmunt IV Zygmuntowicz. This fact had been carefully concealed by Przemysł and his successors to preserve the dynasty’s reputation. Władysław II, however, was not particularly surprised—despite attempts at secrecy, the truth about Przemysł I’s origins was widely known.
More significant were Władysław I’s notes on his experiments. He had discovered an explosive compound by mixing sulfur, charcoal, and potassium nitrate. He theorized that the resulting substance could be used for military purposes, though he had trouble determining the correct proportions to achieve the desired explosive effect. After nearly dying in one of his tests, he abandoned the research and hid the book in the library of the Poznań castle. Władysław II, intrigued by his great-grandfather’s work, secretly gathered his most trusted scientists and ordered them to continue the research. Their efforts resulted in the creation of gunpowder, which was then used in the development of a new weapon: the bombard—a metal tube that fired stone projectiles using the force of an explosion.
Egypt, conquered by Władysław during the Crusade, remained an unstable territory. Periodically, the Muslim majority attempted uprisings, but Imram managed to suppress them before they escalated. In 1366, however, a peasant named Hanri rallied a large portion of the Muslim population through his charisma. After defeating Imram's forces in battle—where Imram barely escaped with his life, losing 30,000 men—the situation became critical. Władysław personally intervened, assembling a force of 45,000 and landing in Alexandria, where Imram apologized for his incompetence. Władysław, however, was not overly upset—he was eager to test the bombard in battle.
Hanri, leading a ragtag force of 50,000, marched toward Alexandria. Władysław was astonished that such an undisciplined mob could defeat his brother’s army, but he learned that Imram had been lured into the desert, where many of his men died of heat and thirst—proof, in Władysław’s eyes, of his brother’s foolishness. He confronted the rebels near Alexandria. The bombards began firing as soon as the enemy came within range, followed by a charge of heavy cavalry. Though the bombards were inaccurate—as demonstrated in trials in Poznań—they caused panic and confusion among the enemy ranks. The cavalry exploited this to devastating effect, smashing through everything in their path.
The rebellion was finally crushed at the end of 1369. Hanri was captured after suffering a crushing defeat near Alexandria. Władysław ordered him and all other captured rebels crucified. After the battle, their bodies lined the road from Alexandria to Cairo, serving as a grim warning to any who might consider rising against the Mazovian Empire. Imram, as King of Egypt, carried out Władysław’s orders. When he asked his brother why such a punishment was chosen, Władysław explained that the Romans had done the same to the followers of Spartacus, and the analogy seemed appropriate.
After the rebellion, Władysław imposed higher taxes on Muslims and barred them from holding public office in the Egyptian kingdom. Numerous other restrictions were introduced: without a Christian witness, their testimony in court held no value, leading them to lose most legal cases. They were also forbidden from bearing arms and could not inherit property without royal oversight—many estates were confiscated under these conditions. This policy aimed to economically force Muslims to abandon their religion. It mirrored the restrictions Christians had suffered under Muslim rule. The Coptic Christians of Egypt, previously marginalized under the Rassid Sultanate, became a privileged class. Many were appointed as officials, judges, and soldiers.
Mazovians who had settled in Egypt after Władysław II’s conquest formed the ruling class. Imram granted lands to his loyal followers, who became feudal lords. Over time, these Mazovians adopted the Copts’ faith, language, and culture, assimilating almost completely. The only distinguishing features were their surnames and slightly lighter skin tone passed on to their descendants. The anti-Muslim policy eventually had the intended effect: Muslims became a minority, and Islam nearly vanished from Egypt—though this transformation took two generations.
The Mazovian Empire became a key intermediary in trade between East and West. Control over Egypt meant that the riches of India and Africa passed through the ports of Alexandria and Damietta. Antioch became a major trade hub receiving goods from the Silk Road, which linked China with Europe. The empire maintained good relations with the Ilkhanate, conducting extensive trade. Mazovia controlled the flow of goods so thoroughly that anyone wanting to bypass its ports had to reroute through Asia Minor or the Kingdom of Jerusalem.
As one of the primary middlemen in global trade, Władysław frequently hosted wealthy merchants at his court. During a banquet at Poznań Castle, he befriended a merchant from the Sardinian-Corsican Republic named Diego de Costilla, a member of one of that republic’s ruling families. As a token of gratitude for his host’s hospitality, Diego gifted the emperor a eunuch, who was to serve Władysław faithfully. Uncertain what to do with the new servant, Władysław assigned him to oversee the construction of the Cathedral of Saint Boniface.
In autumn of 1369, Agnieszka—the eldest daughter of Szarlota and Władysław—fell ill. The royal physicians could not determine the cause of her sickness, and her condition rapidly worsened. After three weeks, Agnieszka died. Her death devastated Szarlota, who became deeply spiritual and spent more time in the chapel at Poznań Castle than with her husband. Władysław, though heartbroken as he laid his daughter to rest in the crypt, eventually found peace—unlike Szarlota, who sought solace in prayer.
When Władysław finally confronted Szarlota about her strange behavior, she revealed that while praying over Agnieszka’s body, she had experienced a vision. Agnieszka appeared to her and told her not to worry, assuring her that she was in a better place. She also said that if Szarlota lived according to Jesus’s will, they would be reunited in the afterlife. Agnieszka then took the hand of a figure made of radiant light—whom Szarlota believed to be Christ—and disappeared. This revelation deeply moved Władysław. Before their daughter’s death, Szarlota had been a materialist, easily pleased with jewels and lavish gifts.
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This will give Mazovia's army an advantage - until the rest of Europe figures out how to do it too...
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I don't know... It doesn't feel right for kind, just, humble character to crucify people... Especially in such quantity
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Chapter 65 (1370 – 1375)
Chapter 65 (1370–1375)
In the year 1370, after sixteen years of Władysław II’s rule, the Mazovian Empire was experiencing its golden age. The previously depopulated borderlands near the fallen Khanate of the Golden Horde were being repopulated. Though this process was slow, the absence of Mongol raids encouraged people to settle there. The Empire was flourishing both economically and culturally, largely thanks to a prolonged period of peace. Since the successful Egyptian Crusade, Mazovia had been expanding its possessions in the Middle East, managing to take control of large areas in Syria.
In the autumn of 1370, a humble monk from the Cluny Abbey arrived at the imperial court in Poznań. He requested a donation from Władysław for the reconstruction of monastery buildings that had suffered damage during wars waged by the King of France. The young monk justified his request by pointing out that Mazovian rulers had supported the abbey with material donations many times in the past. Władysław, a pious man—but only when it suited him—was aware that faith could be a tool to control the people. Since the death of Evaristus II, the Apostolic See had been under the control of a member of the Carolingian dynasty. Władysław decided to take advantage of this situation to reinforce his image as a devout Catholic ruler. He donated a large sum of money to the monk and also provided him with an armed escort to ensure his safe return to Cluny.
A year after Władysław had gifted a considerable amount of gold to the monks of Cluny for the renovation of their abbey, they sent him, in gratitude, their finest meads and wines that had been aging for decades in the monastery cellars. These alcoholic drinks turned out to be of exceptional quality and greatly pleased the Emperor. The benevolent monks proved to be excellent distillers, a trait Władysław found admirable. The Mazovian ruler, known for his refined taste in alcohol, only served the finest beverages at his feasts to please both himself and his guests. The monks, aware of his fondness for strong drinks—much like most of Europe—hoped to exploit this weakness to their benefit. Enchanted by the gift, Władysław increased his support and donated another large sum of money for the abbey’s restoration.
In the autumn of 1373, Władysław fell ill. The illness of the Mazovian Emperor forced him to relinquish control of the empire to his wife for several months, as he was too weak to govern himself. A high fever kept him bedridden in his chamber until April 1374. During this time, Charlotte managed the affairs of the empire on his behalf and also tended to her husband’s health. She succeeded in replenishing the imperial treasury by granting minor land titles within the imperial domain.
The construction of castles within the Mazovian Empire intensified under Władysław’s reign. Initiated early in his rule, these efforts were beginning to bear fruit. In Crimea, a castle originally built during the reign of the Hungarian kings—but later destroyed by the Mongols of the Golden Horde—was rebuilt and reinforced. The fortress in Yalta became a strategic stronghold ensuring control over nearly the entire Crimean Peninsula. Many previously wooden or earthen fortifications were upgraded with stone or brick walls, the latter being increasingly used throughout the empire.
Władysław II’s mother, Elmede, died of old age in April 1374. Upon her death, the throne of the Livonian Kingdom passed to Władysław. The Mazovian Emperor acted swiftly and decisively, sending his chancellor, Mateusz Zaborski, along with a 20,000-strong imperial host to Riga to claim the crown in his name. The military escort was meant to demonstrate to the Livonian nobility that the Mazovian Empire was a force to be reckoned with. This was a blatant act of intimidation on Władysław’s part, as he lacked the time for more subtle means of asserting control over the Livonian elite. Zaborski was also entrusted with a large sum of gold to use for bribes and other persuasive efforts among the Livonian nobility.
Władysław himself could not travel to Riga because his beloved wife, Charlotte, was bedridden with a severe illness. The high fever caused her to suffer from delirium. Władysław, who truly loved her, could not bring himself to leave her side—especially after witnessing one of her fevered fits during which she tearfully begged him for help. Her pleading, pain-filled gaze drove him to despair. Despite the efforts of the court physicians and the chaplain, prayers and treatments were of no avail. Meanwhile, the news from Riga was favorable: Zaborski had secured the crown of Władysław’s mother and delivered it to the Emperor within a month. However, Charlotte passed away several months later, at the end of 1374.
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I wonder if she contracted the pneumonia from tending to him, as the timeline seems to overlap...
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Chapter 66 (1375 – 1380)
Chapter 66 (1375 – 1380)
The winter of 1374–1375 was one of the mildest in the recorded history of the Mazovian Empire. Although previous winters had occasionally been mild as well, Mazovian chroniclers typically did not record such details. However, during this particular winter, snow fell only briefly between January and February. In the southernmost lands under Władysław’s rule, there was no winter at all. He and his family were residing in Crimea at the time, where beautiful early-summer weather prevailed throughout the season. Mazovian chronicles written that year would later describe it as the peak of the Golden Age of the First Mazovian Empire.
It should also be noted that in this same year, the first manuscript written in the Mazovian language appeared, composed by Władysław II’s court chronicler, Masław of Kraków. This was the crowning achievement of the scholar’s life. In his chronicle "On the Origins of the Mazovian State," he described the beginnings of the Mazovian realm, founded by Siemomysł “the Founder”—a title Masław himself coined. In his chronicle, Masław attempted to prove that Siemomysł’s father, a chieftain of the Mazovian tribes whom he named Mazur (earlier Latin chronicles did not clearly state his name), was a royal exile from the Eastern Roman Empire of imperial origin.
These were, of course, conjectures and fabrications, but Władysław had no issue with them. Masław's chronicle also aimed to prove that, unlike other tribes inhabiting the future Mazovian kingdom, the Mazovians descended not from Slavic stock but from the Sarmatians. Their ancestors were said to have settled in the region during the Migration Period and the fall of the Western Roman Empire. The remainder of the book was dedicated to the achievements of rulers from the Mazurian dynasty, describing each one in detail. Władysław II, a descendant of the earliest Mazovian rulers, was well aware that most of Masław’s writing strayed far from the truth. Nevertheless, it served as excellent propaganda material—for him and for his family.
The death of Charlotte was a heavy blow for Władysław. Until then, he hadn’t realized just how much he had relied on her in so many aspects—raising their children, managing Poznań Castle, or dealing with nobles and vassals. She always had advice to offer. The only thing he could now do for her was to grant her a dignified and solemn burial, and this he did. Charlotte’s remains were placed in a previously prepared sarcophagus, atop which was a sculpted likeness of the deceased empress, carved from white Italian marble. A similar sarcophagus stood beside it, ready to receive Władysław’s remains once his earthly journey came to an end.
Despite mourning the death of his beloved wife Charlotte, Władysław had to consider the dynastic interests of his state. He could not remain a widower for the rest of his life. After an appropriate mourning period, he began the search for a suitable candidate for the role of Empress. In early 1376, he married Ouareno, daughter of the Emperor of Abyssinia.
Time heals all wounds, both physical and emotional. Over time, Władysław came to terms with Charlotte’s death—he had to, or he would have lost his mind. His new wife undoubtedly helped with this. Ouareno, the Abyssinian princess who was nearly 15 years his junior, was as nimble as a deer. Her journey from Abyssinia to Poznań was far from easy. First traveling by the Red Sea, she reached Egypt, ruled by Imram I of Egypt—Władysław’s brother—who arranged for her passage by ship to Crimea, where Władysław awaited her. It was there that they met for the first time. Ouareno made a rather ordinary first impression on the Mazovian ruler. She was a tall, slender, ebony-skinned woman. But their shared journey to the imperial capital changed his opinion.
He discovered in her an inexhaustible energy for action and a sense of wonder at everything around her. Clearly, Abyssinia was vastly different from Mazovia; from her stories, it appeared to be a desert land where one seldom saw the greenery so abundant in the north. Ouareno quickly set about endearing herself to her betrothed, signaling plainly that she was at his beck and call—something rare, as women seldom behaved this way with him. From what he remembered, Charlotte had been open, but not to that extent. Before Władysław even reached Poznań, he had already consummated his marriage with Ouareno, who proved to be a more skilled lover than the late Charlotte.
Nine months later, Salomea was born—the first daughter of Władysław and Ouareno. The Bishop of Poznań, who had officiated the emperor's wedding, found the timeline suspicious and began questioning whether Salomea was truly Władysław’s child. To avoid scandal, Władysław had to silence the overly curious cleric. The poor man met an untimely end in a tragic accident—he broke his neck falling from the cathedral tower.
Władysław’s younger brother, Zygmunt, joined the Teutonic Order, abandoning his wife, Queen Emilia of Sicily. Upon learning of this, Władysław was baffled. Their father, Jakub IV, had intended for Zygmunt’s descendants to sit on the Sicilian throne. Władysław, seeking answers, sent a letter demanding an explanation. Zygmunt’s reply stated that he had experienced a spiritual awakening that led him on the path to salvation.
Emilia, furious with her husband, sent letters far and wide slandering him. Władysław received one particularly scathing message in which she claimed Zygmunt was impotent and unable to fulfill his marital duties. The situation became problematic for Władysław: Zygmunt’s wife was publicly humiliating him while he was fighting for the Holy Sepulchre in the Holy Land.
Pope Vigilius V refused to annul the marriage, claiming that Zygmunt had been inspired by the Holy Spirit to defend pilgrims. Emilia could do nothing in the face of such judgment. Władysław had orchestrated Vigilius’s rise to the papacy—he had funded the bribes that secured the votes of the cardinals—and until recently, Vigilius had been the bishop of Poznań. This saved Zygmunt from public disgrace, had Emilia’s demands been granted.
In the summer of 1378, Władysław went hunting near Poznań with his closest entourage. The great imperial hunt, held annually, was one of his favorite pastimes. He spent nearly a week in the wilderness, hunting large game with his closest companions. That morning, the hounds caught the scent of a deer—an old, powerful male that had survived many years. As Władysław looked into the creature’s eyes while life faded from them, he recalled the skill with which he had shot his arrow, delivering the fatal blow. In that moment, he felt like a hero of Greek myth.
It mattered little that the beast had been driven into range by dogs and servants. As he stood, lost in thought, a messenger arrived with news of the death of his son Jakub’s fiancée, Alexandra, daughter of the Grand Prince of Moldavia. This created both complications and opportunities. Władysław had to find a new bride for his eldest son, and with the alliance with Moldavia broken, he now had a claim—through his mother—to the title of Grand Prince of Moldavia.
In the winter of 1378, Jakub was betrothed to Wiesława, heiress to the Principality of Worotyń. At the time, she resided at the court of Prince Alexei of Novgorod. Władysław’s son Jakub had already reached sixteen years of age; the age gap between him and Wiesława was six years. Władysław saw this marriage as an opportunity to incorporate the Principality of Worotyń into the Mazovian Empire. The Rus’ states were weak, caught between a hammer and anvil—Mazovia and the Ilkhanate. Since the Rus’ princes had converted to Catholicism, the Mazovian rulers could no longer justify conquests in the name of spreading Christianity, so they had to resort to political maneuvering instead.
At the end of 1379, Władysław sent a letter to Pope Vigilius V requesting permission to invade the Grand Duchy of Moldavia. Before receiving a response from the Holy See, he secured a pledge of neutrality from the Grand Prince of Wallachia, Stefan. In return for Stefan’s silence, Władysław paid him a substantial amount in gold. During this time, he also gathered an army of 50,000 men, which he believed would be sufficient to conquer Moldavia. The papal approval reached Władysław at the beginning of 1380. The Pope blessed the Mazovian ruler and sent him relics from the tomb of Saint Peter along with the Spear of Longinus.
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The clergy is going to have to learn to avoid this dynasty at some point, because they love killing, maiming and jailing priests...
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Chapter 67 (1380 – 1385)
In January of 1380, Władysław set out for Moldavia with an army of 50,000 armed men. The march took around four months. The Mazovian forces, under Władysław’s command, reached the Moldavian border swiftly, thanks primarily to the well-maintained roads within the Mazovian Empire. The Empire was covered by a network of Imperial roads used mainly by merchants for the transport of their goods, but they also served for the movement of troops. Their upkeep was the responsibility of local lords, who often maintained them in their own interest, as the roads contributed to the development of their domains.
The Moldavian campaign was swift. Mazovian forces seized all towns and castles without major resistance; only the capital, Chișinău, remained unconquered. Władysław had expected the Moldavians to face him in open battle, but was disappointed. The Moldavian chancellor, acting as regent for the underage Queen Swietlana, did not send his troops into the field but instead barricaded himself in the capital. Władysław had to admit that Chișinău was a formidable fortress, and capturing it would take longer than he had planned for this war. Thus, he resorted to a ruse, sending envoys to Chancellor Herbert with peace proposals: the young queen and her court would be spared and retain their health and lives, but she would have to renounce her royal title and all others, except for the Barony of Chișinău, which she could keep for herself and her descendants.
This offer was rejected, but Władysław’s envoys managed to bribe Moldavian mercenaries, who opened the gates to the Mazovian army. Street fighting lasted the entire day of March 12, 1380, and the capture of the palace ended the war. Władysław showed magnanimity—young Swietlana retained her barony, but all other titles passed to the Emperor of Mazovia. Chancellor Herbert, however, was executed. Moldavia was quickly transformed into a merchant republic dependent on the Mazovian Empire. Bilhorod-Dnistrovskyi became the new capital, and the first Doge was Masław of Tomaszów Mazowiecki.
In Władysław’s vision, Moldavia was to become a mercantile power in the Black Sea—and eventually the Mediterranean. The Gdańsk and Lübeck Republics already generated huge revenues for the Imperial treasury, with trade across the Baltic and North Seas dominated by these two vassal republics. The Black Sea, however, remained largely untapped in this regard, with only a few trading posts belonging to the Sardinia-Corsica Republics in the region. Bilhorod was to become the principal trade port on the Black Sea. Competing with Sardinia-Ne in commerce posed no major issue, though expansion into the Mediterranean would be more challenging. For now, however, Władysław did not dwell on this.
The new republic founded by Władysław quickly flourished. By 1385, it had established trade relations with all the states around the Black Sea. Trade with Trebizond, Georgia, Nicea, and Epirus resulted in significant economic exchange. Mazovian goods sold well in these kingdoms, and maritime routes were considerably safer than land routes across the steppes, where bands of Mongol warriors, remnants of the Golden Horde, still roamed. The Moldavian Republic’s growth exceeded Władysław’s dreams and expectations—by the end of 1385, its galley fleet numbered 50 ships.
In the summer of 1381, Władysław’s eldest daughter Rycheza—his child from his first marriage to Charlotte—was married off. She wed Philip, King of Croatia. Rycheza was a mirror image of her mother: an intelligent and cunning young woman who was not easily manipulated or controlled. Władysław, who loved his daughter dearly, hoped she would find happiness in this union. Rycheza herself insisted on the marriage—Croatia was one of the smaller Balkan kingdoms, and an alliance with the Empire was more in their interest than Mazovia’s.
This was only half the truth. The Kingdom of Croatia was strategically located on the Adriatic Sea. Philip agreed to open his markets to the Moldavian Republic, which was granted exclusive trading rights with Croatia—something Sardinian merchants had failed to achieve. Moldavia’s slow commercial expansion into the Mediterranean began at this moment. Philip, an intelligent man, quickly realized that Władysław was using him to achieve his goals, but he was no fool himself. Rycheza had met Philip during their youth at the Imperial court in Poznań. Their early affection later blossomed into deeper feelings.
Philip was then a 14-year-old youth, spending several years at the court in Poznań, where he had been sent by his father. Rycheza, then 12, was impressed when he played a beautiful melody on the harp for her. From that moment on, they spent more and more time together, engaging in lively conversations. Władysław observed these youthful meetings through his network of servants and spies. The romance ended when he was informed of inappropriate intimacy between the two. Philip was sent back to his kingdom, where, following the deaths of his father and elder brother, he was crowned king. Rycheza, still in love, insisted on an engagement and then marriage.
Hyginus IV, the newly elected steward of the Petrine Throne, sent word of a new Crusade. The campaign aimed to retake the lands of Mauretania from the hands of the infidel Muslim dogs. The Christian world was successfully reclaiming lands from Islam, though much of North Africa’s coast remained under Muslim rule. One caliphate after another was being stripped of its possessions. Władysław promised support for the initiative—financial only, as he had no intention of journeying to the edge of the known world to wage war on the Arasid Sultanate.
The crusade might have become a problem for Władysław had he participated, for he already knew that a Mongol warlord, active in the Ilkhanate’s borderlands, was gathering troops to attack the Empire. This man, Athutaj, a descendant of the Khans of the Golden Horde, planned to seize territory for himself through force. The Mongols primarily inhabited the steppe regions along the Mazovian–Ilkhanate frontier, while the cities were mostly populated by descendants of Hungarians who had settled there. In 1383, Athutaj gathered 50,000 men and invaded the border principality of Sarkel with the goal of claiming it.
Athutaj’s 50,000-strong army posed a significant threat if left unchecked. Upon receiving news of the attack, Władysław gathered his forces—numbering around 120,000—and marched south. While Władysław advanced, Athutaj ravaged and slaughtered across Sarkel. After five months, the Mazovian forces reached the region. Their overwhelming numerical superiority forced the Mongols to retreat. However, Władysław’s vanguard, composed of light Mongol cavalry, caught up with and engaged Athutaj’s forces until the main army arrived—sealing the invaders’ defeat. Athutaj was captured and executed for the benefit of the peasant crowds of Sarkel, who had suffered most from the conflict.
From the steppes of distant Asia emerged another Mongol warlord thirsting for conquest: Tamerlane, also known as Timur the Lame. Thanks to his achievements and charisma, he won the loyalty of steppe warriors. Timur began as a minor leader of a band of brigands who roamed the Ilkhanate–Burkhanid Empire border. His successful raids, mostly against the Zoroastrian Persians, and his fairness in dividing spoils earned him followers from all walks of steppe life. Within ten years, he had enough men to capture Samarkand from the Ilkhanate and made it the capital of his future empire. News of these events reached the court in Poznań in 1384, by which time Timur was already conquering the Persian Burkhanid Empire.
For some time, Władysław had noticed changes in his body: spots and numbness in his toes—signs that the Mazovian Emperor had contracted leprosy. Each week worsened his condition. Characteristic sores began to appear. The efforts of his court physicians, though diligent, could only slow the disease’s progress. Leprosy was a known disease in the Empire. The first cases were documented among Mazovian knights who had taken part in the First Crusade to the Holy Land in 1117. Since then, treatment of lepers had evolved significantly. In 1235, a hospital dedicated to leprosy cases was founded in Poznań, established by Jakub I of Przemyśl. Still, the disease remained a slow death sentence for all affected.
Władysław II ultimately died in December of 1385, leaving the throne to his eldest son Jakub, who was crowned a month later in the cathedral of Poznań as Jakub V. Władysław II’s reign, which lasted 31 years, was one of the longest in Mazovian history. It was a period of cultural and spiritual growth, with many new churches and cathedrals built across the Empire. He expanded its borders, inherited the crown of the Kingdom of Livonia from his late mother, and—with papal blessing—invaded and conquered Moldavia. His successful crusade led to the inclusion of Egypt under Mazovian rule, and over time, the lands of Syria in the Near East were also incorporated.
Mazovia, 1385.
Egypt under Masovian rule
Masovian Antioch and Syria
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Swietlana will probably have to be monitored for signs of rebellion, as she could try to restore her inheritance if allowed to grow her power base.
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Chapter 68 (1385 – 1390)
Jakub V of Przemyski, the eldest son of Władysław III, ascended the Imperial throne after the death of his father, who succumbed to leprosy. Jakub was 31 years old and had one son, Władysław, and two daughters, Beata and Scholastyka. He was a diligent and temperate man, though prone to anger when things did not go his way. He was also filled with great pride in the heritage he possessed—he was the heir to the Mazovian Empire and a member of the Przemyślid dynasty, one of the most influential and powerful ruling families on the European continent. He had a younger brother, Kazimierz, whom he did not hold brotherly affection for—the two had always been hostile toward each other. Upon taking the Imperial throne, Jakub began preparing to take part in a crusade organized by Pope Hyginus IV.
In April 1386, Jakub sent envoys to Hyginus IV with news of his intention to join the Crusade. The Pope received the news with great joy and blessed Jakub and his forces, which were to join the campaign in Mauretania. Jakub gathered 80,000 armed men, most of whom came from his vassals' lands. When the knights heard that their ruler intended to embark on a crusade, they began assembling in Poznań, from where the Mazovian forces were to depart. It took Jakub some time to organize this hastily gathered army, and only after nearly four months were these forces ready to march south.
The first stop was to be the Moldavian Republic. Jan the Elder, a great merchant who served as Hospodar of the Republic, organized a fleet of galleys to transport the Mazovian forces to Egypt. There, part of the army would proceed along the coast, while the rest would sail to Mauretania. Nearly 40 galleys departed from the port of Białogród on the Dniester in the autumn of 1386. After four months at sea, the flotilla arrived in Alexandria, the largest trade port on the Mediterranean. Jakub was greeted there by his uncle, Imram, brother of Władysław II, who had become ruler of Egypt after a successful crusade in 1342. Imram had converted to the Coptic form of Christianity.
The Mazovian troops rested in Egypt for nearly two months. During this time, Jakub visited the ancient ruins he remembered from his father's stories about the Egyptian Crusade. Under Imram’s rule, Egypt had changed significantly—most mosques had been converted into Christian places of worship. Within a few decades, the Kingdom of Egypt had become a Christian country. Muslims were forced to pay higher taxes than the Copts, and many crusaders settled in Egypt after the campaign, forming a new ruling social class.
Jakub divided the Mazovian army into two equal parts of 40,000 men each and resumed the journey. Jakub would sail along the coast, while his Marshal, Jarosław Zabrski, would march along the shore to Carthage, the next stop on the crusade route. Carthage, under the control of the Sardinian Republic, was the only friendly location in Africa outside Egypt where Jakub could replenish supplies and men.
As Jakub began sailing toward the distant shores of Mauretania, his brother Kazimierz—King of Syria, a title granted by their father Władysław II—initiated a civil war. He renounced allegiance to Jakub and openly declared that he, not his elder brother, should sit on the Imperial throne. Jakub had long anticipated this rebellion—Kazimierz had shown him disdain and contempt since childhood. Despite having the same parents, their mutual animosity only grew over time. Although their father tried to treat them equally, Jakub was the one destined to rule the Empire, not Kazimierz. In his will, Władysław had granted Kazimierz the Syrian throne in an attempt to appease his pride. But ambition—and perhaps hatred—blinded Kazimierz, who believed he could seize the Imperial crown by force.
Tragically for him, Jakub had long prepared for such a turn of events. Loyal agents in Damascus, posing as courtiers, were ready to strike at any moment. Kazimierz, unaware of their presence and confident in his plan, was found dead in his private chambers before he could win the support of powerful Imperial princes. Stabbed with a dagger, he bled to death; his loyal servants noticed nothing, and his ambitions died with him—along with the identity of those who carried out the deed.
The Syrian throne passed to Jakub, as Kazimierz had no sons. Jakub granted the title to Siemowit of Przemyski, a distant relative from the cadet branch of the Przemyślids who had ruled the Kingdom of Antioch. However, upon reaching Carthage with his army, Jakub faced a new problem: his uncle Imram was allegedly plotting behind his back to ignite another succession crisis. To neutralize the threat, Jakub released Imram from his feudal oath. This transformed Imram into a free and independent ruler, making his intrigues more difficult, as the Mazovian nobility would view his claims with greater skepticism. Imram agreed to this settlement. In exchange for abandoning his claims to the Imperial crown, he became the sovereign king of Egypt. Jakub renounced all claims to Egypt. The agreement was signed by the Imperial Chancellor, Miłosz Lubka, on Jakub’s behalf, in Alexandria at the turn of 1386–1387. Before leaving Carthage, Jakub also signed a crucial supply agreement with Sardinian merchants to support his army en route to Mauretania.
Jakub and his army reached Mauretania in October 1387. The war with the Sultanate was already well underway. The Order of Santiago had seized many coastal fortresses but failed to capture inland cities and strongholds. The Mazovian army quickly shifted the tide of war. Under Jakub's command, they supported the knights and took more cities and castles. By the end of 1387, all major fortifications were under Christian control. Fighting continued until autumn 1388, when the Mauritanian capital, Fez, finally fell.
The crusade ended in the fall of 1388. Sultan Talib surrendered all his territories and fled toward Fezzan, hoping to find refuge. Despite his active role in the campaign, Jakub received no land—everything was granted to the Order of Santiago. Pope Hyginus IV intended for the Order to become the bulwark of Christianity. The entire North African coast up to Carthage was handed to the Order, which was tasked with combating Berber pirates who had plagued the coasts of Italy and Spain for centuries. These lands were also to act as a buffer against remaining Islamic African states.
The Order of Santiago followed the Augustinian rule but was unique in that it admitted married men from the start. Members were required to live periodically in monastic houses, during which time the Order cared for their wives and children. The wives were also considered members of the Order. When the children came of age, they could choose to take vows and remain in the monastery or pursue secular lives. Entire families lived in the religious communities. During Advent, Lent, and major religious holidays, knights had to live in chastity. Widows and widowers could remarry with permission from the Grand Master or the monastery superior. The Order became a veritable state, maintaining allegiance to the Papal See. Thousands of European settlers began arriving in Africa, joining the Order and living in marital unions.
Jakub had to return to Poznań empty-handed. His journey home took nearly a year. His troops remained under the command of his Marshal, who was to lead them back into Imperial territory. But this never happened. The Marshal, sailing with the fleet along the coast, decided not to return empty-handed. He organized a raid against the Sultanate of Fezzan. With the remaining 55,000 troops, he ventured deep into Saharan territory, hoping for an easy victory and rich plunder. But ignorance of the terrain and the desert sun defeated him and the Mazovian knights, who returned eight months later to find the fleet had departed just days earlier, leaving them stranded.
Marshal Jarosław Zabrski, who lost nearly 25,000 men in the expedition, had no choice but to march toward Egypt, their only hope. Constantly harassed by Muslim nomads and lacking food and fresh water, Jarosław’s men died by the dozens. Jarosław himself never reached Egypt—only 250 soldiers made it. Imram sent them back to the Empire after they regained strength, but half chose to remain in Egypt and serve him rather than Jakub. In Mazovian history, the campaign went down as one of the most unsuccessful and poorly organized expeditions.
In November 1389, Timur the Lame invaded Syria, part of the Mazovian Empire. His army of 150,000 left behind nothing but ashes and death. The Persian Burkhanid Empire had fallen within five years, and now Timur aimed to add Syria to his dominion. Jakub had to respond militarily. The problem was gathering enough troops for this confrontation. The Imperial vassals fielded armies totaling 60,000 men, arguing they could not support larger forces as Jakub’s earlier crusade had depleted their resources.
Jakub had to raise troops from his own domain and rely on his Imperial Guard—a professional army maintained by the monarch. He managed to assemble a 170,000-strong army, which he had to transport to Syria—a daunting task. He chose to march through the Balkans and Asia Minor, recruiting anyone willing to fight for glory or gold. Eventually, the Mazovian army would reach Syria after a two-year march. Until then, Siemowit had to hold the castles and fortresses on his own.
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This is going to be an extremely close war to call, either side could win...
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I love those polite and elegant insults opening letters ... Someone someday should collect them all in a thread
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Chapter 69 (1390 – 1400)
The Mazovian army, under the command of Jakub, had to make its way to Syria. A force of 170,000 troops had been gathered by Jakub, part of which was to be transported by sea using ships from the Moldavian Republic, which once again had to support its sovereign in his military endeavors. Fifty ships, mainly galleys, were requisitioned from merchants in Białogród for troop transport. In July of 1390, seventy thousand Mazovian soldiers were embarked on them, bound for the Kingdom of Antioch.
Jakub intended to bring his son Władysław with him—now of age—who had been prepared for leadership from his earliest years as the son of Jakub.
The remaining portion of the army, numbering 100,000 men, was to march overland through the Balkans and Asia Minor under Jakub’s direct command. The passage through the lands of the Bulgarian Tsardom went smoothly. Jakub managed to recruit a company of about 4,500 Bulgarian mercenaries, who agreed to participate in the campaign for a suitable payment. The coffers of the Mazovian Empire, long filled with gold, gave Jakub ample resources for this war, inherited from his father.
Jakub and Władysław arrived in Constantinople on July 22, 1391, with the consent of Constantine II, King of Epirus, who had controlled Constantinople for over 50 years after reclaiming it from mercenaries who had established their own rule in Thrace. Although he formally held the capital of the former Byzantine Empire, none of the other Greek monarchs ruling former imperial lands recognized him as the legitimate heir of the Byzantine emperors.
At Constantine’s personal invitation, Jakub attended a banquet in the palace held in his honor. During the feast, the Mazovian Emperor proposed that his son Władysław marry Agatha, Constantine’s eldest daughter. The ruler of Epirus agreed.
The ceremony took place in August 1391 in the Church of Holy Wisdom (Hagia Sophia). After the wedding, Władysław and Agatha consummated the marriage during the customary nuptial banquet. Władysław remained with his young bride in Constantinople for two more months before rejoining his father, who had already resumed the march. Constantine supported Jakub by providing him with a contingent of 10,000 mercenary troops.
Meanwhile, Tamerlane was pillaging and plundering on a massive scale, leaving entire villages and towns in ashes. Those who did not fall to the Mongol sword were taken into captivity and transported to distant parts of Persia and Central Asia, where they lived out their days as slaves.
However, Tamerlane’s progress was not significant; he had failed to capture any major strongholds. His forces focused mainly on looting, although for several months over 60,000 troops had been besieging Edessa—a tributary principality of the Syrian Kingdom and one of the most heavily fortified fortresses in the Middle East. The capture of this bastion would open the path to Syria and Antioch. Tamerlane intended to take the city and then march on Aleppo. His other forces were moving in that direction as well. Siemowit of Przemyśl tried to slow their advance by every possible means: burning villages, poisoning wells, and emptying fields to deprive the Mongols of supplies.
Jakub decided to march along the northern coast of the Black Sea, allowing for systematic resupply of the Mazovian army. Moldavian trading posts along the coast served as waypoints, where Jakub replenished his provisions. Trapezunt became a longer stop; the Mazovian forces had to wait for four months to gain permission to march further. Theocharistos, the local ruler, initially refused to allow Mazovian troops into his lands, leading to significant tensions that nearly escalated into open conflict.
Jakub’s chancellor, Eustachy Zborowski, negotiated with King Theocharistos of Trapezunt. Though paranoid, Theocharistos recognized the threat posed by Tamerlane. Jakub’s troops were permitted to use established roads, avoid major towns, and refrain from disturbing the local population. To seal this agreement and demonstrate goodwill on both sides, Theocharistos married Jakub’s eldest daughter, Beata. Jakub lost another three months waiting for her arrival and the wedding. During this time, at Chancellor Eustachy’s urging, Jakub also arranged the marriage of his younger daughter to Galiando, heir to the Castilian throne. This alliance with Castile—whose king, Alfonso IV, was also the King of Jerusalem—secured 35,000 troops in support of Siemowit’s desperate struggle against the Timurids.
While Jakub was engaged in negotiations in Trapezunt, Edessa was finally captured in early 1393. The city was razed to the ground, and most of its inhabitants were massacred. Timur showed no mercy to those who resisted. The entire Burkahid dynasty that ruled Persia was exterminated—women, children, and the elderly alike. The same fate befell every place Timur’s hordes reached. After capturing the city and setting it ablaze, Timur’s forces marched on Aleppo, initiating a second siege. By then, the Timurid army had received reinforcements from Persia, and according to Siemowit’s reports to Jakub, may have numbered between 180,000 and 200,000 men. Their constantly shifting positions made it impossible to estimate their strength precisely.
Impatiently awaiting news from Syria and Antioch, Jakub, once the Trapezunt issue was resolved, headed south. Around this time, 50 Moldavian galleys carrying 70,000 troops arrived in Antioch and began unloading. Siemowit was given command of these forces, with orders from Jakub to march toward Aleppo. Jakub himself, with his 100,000-strong Mazovian army, was also headed there. He now had 95,000 men at his disposal, including Jerusalemite reinforcements. The fields outside Aleppo were to witness the greatest battle in medieval European history. Having received reports of the Mazovian advance, Timur gathered his forces there. To Jakub, it seemed Timur was inviting him to open battle—and he was not wrong.
Aleppo fell in June 1394, just weeks before the combined Mazovian forces reached the area. The battle fought in the shadow of the city’s smoldering ruins became a defining moment—one that would go down in history as the battle that shielded Europe from the advance of Timur and his bloodthirsty Mongol hordes. Nearly 200,000 troops on each side clashed in bloody and titanic combat. Death claimed a grim harvest, with 70,000–80,000 casualties on both sides. Yet neither side achieved a definitive victory. Timur withdrew, leaving the ruins of Aleppo to Jakub, who chose not to pursue him. Timur's forces fell back to Edessa, regrouped, and began a five-year campaign of guerrilla warfare.
In 1396, Wiesława, Jakub’s wife and Władysław’s mother, passed away. The Mazovian Emperor was still deeply engaged in the war against Timur, who continued his raids on Syrian and Antiochene lands. The duchy inherited from Wiesława was incorporated into Mazovia, but Władysław could not take control of it himself. Eustachy, Jakub’s loyal chancellor, assumed governance on his behalf. Eustachy also advised Jakub to find a new wife—preferably someone whose relatives could aid the Empire.
Jakub chose Chakha, daughter of Ilkhanate Khan Belugutei III, as his new bride. The wedding and consummation took place in Crimea, during which Jakub had to temporarily abandon the war with Timur. Though the Ilkhanate had declined, it remained a significant force on the Asian steppes. Jakub hoped Belugutei would attack Timur in Central Asia, forcing him to divide his forces. However, despite the marriage alliance, the Khan did not attack. A massive uprising broke out in the Ilkhanate a few months later, during which the Khan was killed and the realm lost more territory.
The marriage to Chakha produced a son, Alexander. The Mongol princess refused to go to Poznań, despite Jakub’s requests, and insisted on staying by his side until the war with Timur was over. Chakha was no delicate European lady; she was a proud Mongol woman. Jakub struggled to control her fiery temperament. She accompanied him to Antioch and took part in his war councils, offering her insights on Timur’s tactics—advice that proved invaluable to Jakub’s commanders. She gave birth to Alexander in a tent, but he would never see the Mazovian Empire. The war with Timur dragged on, with neither side gaining a clear advantage.
Jakub died in camp near Antioch in April 1399. Years of stress from the seemingly endless war with Tamerlane had taken their toll. Timur refused to sign a truce, continuing his raids into Syrian lands and the Kingdom of Antioch. During a war council in his personal tent, Jakub suffered a seizure, clutching his chest as if trying to catch his breath. Despite Władysław’s calls for aid, the physician could not save him. Within minutes, the Emperor drew his last breath, leaving the fate of the war in the hands of his son, Władysław.
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