Rome (1) - The Road to Rome
I had to visit my territory first before heading there. A long business trip. I never imagined the outing I'd originally planned for a week would drag on like this. Malaga County had been running smoothly even without me from the start. With Military Commander Jermi Walli and the Seville Bishop there, there wasn't much room for me to insert myself anyway. So I just gave Chancellor Sancho a brief greeting and headed to Madrid to meet the rest of the delegation.
Philip, my half-brother, had already moved most of the government offices to Madrid. That meant I had to use the basic transportation system from Toledo here as well. The reason was simple: I had to ride in the carriage he'd prepared, not my personal one. If this were modern times, it'd be like getting a company card and company car for a trip to Rome.
Among the group, the key staff were me and Álvaro de Bazán, with an additional bishop attached by my brother: Luis López de Segura. Bishop Segura, the famous chess master. His skills were so renowned that in 1559, he'd be summoned to Rome just to play chess. Unlike original history, he'd now join the French-Spanish peace treaty talks in Rome as a staffer. At 28, he was the second oldest in our diplomatic mission. The eldest was Álvaro de Bazán, my brother's mouthpiece. Next was 28-year-old Bishop Luis López de Segura. And third was me, Don Juan de Austria—leaping over everyone with my absurdly young age to join the mission. The true baby of the group was Medina Sidonia, Alonso Pérez de Guzmán el Bueno, who would later fret while waiting for the Duke of Parma at the Battle of Gravelines.
Someone I absolutely had to win over during this French-Spanish peace treaty schedule. For my future retirement, I desperately needed his outstanding administrative talents.
Madrid's Alcazar. I arrived and entered under the escort of guards. El Escorial, my brother's palace, wasn't built yet, so they were using this Roman-era fortress converted into a castle as temporary quarters.
Inside, I saw the group. Pretending to be a devout Catholic, I greeted the bishop first.
"It's an honor to meet the famous Bishop Segura."
"Oh! Such an honor... It's my privilege to meet Don Juan, Count of Malaga, renowned for his piety."
A man with striking straight eyebrows. I couldn't hide my surprise at this impressive figure.
"I've heard you play chess exceptionally well."
"Haha, you're too kind."
But Luis López's mustache twitched with delight. This guy, serious enough about chess to write his own book, seemed easy enough to handle.
After a short chat, I approached the next person. The real power player: Navy Admiral Álvaro de Bazán, future Marquis of Santa Cruz. Thirty-one years old. Thankfully, no baldness yet—neat eyebrows and a well-groomed mustache. But the oily hair slicked back hinted at an M-shaped recession creeping in. Past or present, hair loss was incurable, I thought again as I extended my hand to Álvaro.
"Pleased to meet you, Navy Admiral Álvaro de Bazán."
"Praise be to God! It's an honor to meet the famous Don Juan, Count of Malaga."
My name wasn't widely known yet. Just Philip II's half-brother, so I saw Álvaro's enthusiasm as flattery. But no need to call him out—I'd need his help later, so I kept smiling.
"How is the Marquis del Viso?"
"Haha, my father is still hale and hearty."
His father, the famous Spanish admiral "Old" Álvaro de Bazán Manuel. Sadly, he'd die next year, but no need to mention that.
"I'm glad His wise Highness allowed the admiral to join the mission. With your skill in sending heretics to sleep beneath the waves in God's name, I doubt we'll lose our way even in darkness."
Álvaro blushed. Typical soldier type—weak to praise, it showed on his face right away.
"Haha... you flatter me too much."
"I believe the heretics don't dare eye Catholic lands because you're commanding Gibraltar. Thanks to you, my own territory enjoys peace to worship the Lord."
"I'm grateful you recognize soldiers' hard work."
His favor secured, at least somewhat. After a bit more talk, I headed to my real target. The one I had to acquire: little Alonso Pérez de Guzmán el Bueno, heir to the Medina Sidonia dukedom, just eight years old.
Sitting a bit apart from the adults, he looked calm despite the uncomfortable noble attire, scanning his surroundings. As I approached, the young duke stood and bowed properly. I returned the courtesy.
"An honor to meet the Duke of Medina Sidonia. I'm sorry for your father's passing."
"Thank you for your thoughtful words, Count Don Juan. Father has gone to God's side, so he should be at peace."
Poise beyond his years. Bright eyes, curly hair, and striking light blue eyes gave an otherworldly vibe. Adults weren't wrong: the gifted were different even as kids.
"You're joining the mission..."
"Ah, thank you for recommending this unworthy me to His Highness. Now I can visit the Rome of my dreams."
A flicker of joy on the child's face. Still elementary-school age, he saw the diplomatic trip like a vacation. Childlike innocence. I smiled.
"They say Rome has delicious food, Duke of Medina Sidonia."
"Really?"
His eyes sparkled. Nothing wins a kid's heart like food talk... timeless, even back then.
"Yes, Rome's near the sea, so fresh seafood and all sorts of desserts. Gelato, for instance."
"Gelato...!"
Gelato, developed around this time. Records showed Italian nobles eating it since Roman days. Fruit or nut sorbets frozen into gelato were widespread among them. Especially wealthy Florentine nobles, munching expensive iced treats daily—they practically led Europe's culinary culture.
Iberia's ice-making tech had vanished after the Roman era, lost to Visigoth invasions, though records remained. The young duke, who'd only read about ice cream in books, lit up with anticipation.
"How about trying some in Rome?"
"Really?!"
Medina Sidonia bounced excitedly. I grinned broadly. First impressions matter. As the mission's number two, showing him this care would make him like me.
Chats wrapped up simply. The delegation left tomorrow, so time for bed.
This era's Europe. Emerging from blood-soaked medieval times into the early modern age, but security was still abysmal. From the Iberian Peninsula—Spain—to Rome's Papal States in Italy. Two main routes.
One: overland. Safest, but crossed multiple borders. Straight to Milan at northern Italy's gate after France's border. No mad bandits dared touch a noble procession, so safest. But slow. Horse-drawn carriages—not cars—took about six days. In reality, it'd be five by bike, but our large group added a day. Thank ancient Romans for the roads; this era's infrastructure still leaned on their legacy.
Our large entourage followed those Roman roads. Key figures: Medina Sidonia, Bishop Segura, Admiral Álvaro, and me. But noble-style, hordes trailed: aides, administrators, valets, porters per person. I'd brought only Steward Isabel from Malaga County, but with extras, my retinue topped ten. Medina Sidonia, as a duke, had twenty. The bishop ten churchmen, admiral ten subordinates. Over fifty just for us.
Plus my brother's guards and dozens of scholars for cultural exchange. Nearly two hundred total—like a high school field trip.
The crowd slowed land travel. So the Mediterranean sea route was faster. From Iberia to Rome: straight shot, no borders, mountains, or rivers. Two days flat. Quickest. But riskiest.
Barbary pirates. They'd plagued seas since Admiral Álvaro's father fought. Famous then: Redbeard (Barbarossa) Hayreddin, Uluj Ali Reis. Barbarossa dead, but Uluj Ali lived on for Lepanto. Now a corsair. Barbary pirates were public enemy number one. Add Malta knights (pirates, really)—the Mediterranean was hell.
Venture out, become galley slaves for life. Nobles like us could ransom free, but no need to tempt fate.
Philip probably approved this mission partly to counter pirates. Admiral Álvaro's involvement. And the letter in my hand to Pope Paul IV. The mission's Rome visit wasn't solely for the French peace treaty.