The Golden Dragon of Wales: A Glyndwr Rebellion TL

[Al-numbers]

Nonetheless, the wealth generated by the wool trade with Burgundy and the alum trade from the Ottomans ensured that, though not always steady, progress continue, though not quite fast enough with work being only half complete when Edward VI attained his majority in 1490. The young King’s reign, which could have promised much, opened with England bearing a millstone around its neck.

So, an England that is both an aspiring naval power but also flat broke? Seems like Edward or his heirs might indulge in some wars or piracy of their own for the short-term, just to keep themselves solvent.

Thing is, that is pretty much the surefire way to rile up everyone in the Isles!

 

[King_Arthur]

Just finished reading this. Great work Gwyn, and I look forward to more!

 

[Gwrtheyrn Annwn]

Chapter 33: Of Fishermen, Monks and Princes
Part 2: What the Fishermen Saw
​

The ever rising costs of the building projects that would to be known collectively, but especially so the work on Lambeth Swamp, as Mary's Folly had absorbed English attention for over a decade and Edward VI, now beginning to rule in his own right, was finding himself in need of further finances to pay for the completion of the projects that by now were too far done to abandon. He had already taken loans from his fantastically wealthy Burgundian family, spent the dowry of his Portuguese wife Infanta Ana and even attempted to raise additional taxes, though he was quickly forced to abandon these, but it was becoming clear that some kind of magic money tree would be required to pay for it all. And this is where the fishermen came in.

The building work in Bristol had steadily taken over most of the docks in the city, both as it underwent new construction work and what was not being worked on was commandeered to bring in building supplies. The result was docking and unloading space became so hard to come by that mercantile shipping into the city dramatically declined, leaving the sailors and seamen of Bristol were forced to turn to the traditional industry of fishing to eke out a living. Those who had never left the industry were already benefiting from the Papal endorsed return to fashion of the tradition of eating fish on Fridays and to those now struggling for work, fishing might even have the potential to go beyond merely surviving to thriving. Thus, whilst the work continued, Bristol returned whole heartedly to the fishing industry and in doing so became not so much a fishing city as the city of fishing. Fishing companies, not, it should be noted, companies in the modern sense but rather less sophisticated guilds, sprung up in the city and soon began building great guild houses in the city centre to serve as imposing reminders of the wealth of the guilds. The docks that were available to them were quickly covered with the spoils of the sea before they were taken to the numerous new fish markets that had joined the guild houses in the city centre. In short, large parts of the city were given over to the various facilities required for the different stages of the fishing industry as fortunes were won and lost on the waters of the Atlantic.

A contemporary painting of a fish stall in one of Bristol's fishmarkets​

As the demand for fish rose and the rewards possible correspondingly increased, the fishermen of Bristol sailed further and further afield from their homeport in search of new and more productive fishing grounds. In their searches, the English fishermen came into contact with fishermen from the Basque region of both Castille and Navarre from whom they heard rumours of a vast and immensely rich fishing ground which lay across the Atlantic, to the south of Greenland. Naturally, these rumours came with all sorts of stories, stories of fishermen simply having to drop their nets over the side of their boats to find them swollen with fish, stories of sea monsters and stories of mermaids and other such beautiful creatures. Most significant, however, were the stories of a strange new land that lay beyond the fishing grounds. These stories, perhaps, presented exactly the opportunity for new wealth that Edward VI and England required but of course they remained just that, stories. It is worth noting at this juncture that stories of a new world across the Atlantic weren't new, indeed had existed since the time of the Irish monk, Saint Brendan, and his Blessed Isle. This stories had, admittedly, largely passed into folklore but now that they appeared to have been confirmed by the tales of the Basque fishermen, the old legends came out of the woodwork, even being joined by several new creations, once more and before long a New World Mania had gripped England, from the humble fishermen in Bristol to King Edward VI himself who is reported to have wanted to immediately assemble an expedition to search for it.

An 18th century illustration of Edward VI​

Despite the excitement, however, it initially appeared that the rumours were simply rumours and no more as several fishing fleets sailed out in the spring of 1492 and, though they found the rich fishing grounds that the Basque had spoken of, they saw no evidence of land beyond and the mania began to fade. Then, the following year, a fishing fleet set off from Bristol under the auspices of the Colston Guild and under the command of William Colston, the heir to the family guild, and sailed across the Atlantic to the great fishing grounds. They got on with their business, collecting sizable hauls in repurposed merchant hulks[1] whose sizable hull space had been adapted to hold large amounts of fish instead of the usual timber, wool, etc. Shortly after they arrived, however, the fishermen were hit by a fierce storm and the various ships were scattered. Of the ten or so who had comprised the fleet, 1 was sunk, though its crew was rescued by their colleagues, and 8 managed to weather the storm to gather together once it had cleared but William Colston's flagship, the Virtue, had disappeared. His fellow captains did search for the Virtue and her captain and crew but quickly abandoned the search, believing her lost with all hands.

The Colston family's coat of arms, it predates their rise as fishing magnates but the fish proved to be appriopriate ​

They weren’t wholly wrong but nor were they wholly right, the Virtue was lost with all hands but not lost in the sailing euphemism, instead was genuinely lost.The storm had separated her from her companions and when the storm clouds cleared and the rain stopped she found herself alone in the sea and to add insult to injury her sails had been torn to shreds in the storm and she was drifting at the mercy of the ocean. Rationing of water and food, though admittedly the fish filling the hull did at least mean food wouldn’t be a problem for a while, was put in place and attempts were made to patch up the sails or even make new ones from scratch but not enough cloth could be found, especially given that clothes were more or less essential in the local climate, and both captain and crew begun to come to terms with their fate. After 3 or 4 days of drifting, however, William Colston was roused from an uneasy sleep by the look out, a boy known to the crew simply Young John, who was babbling excitedly that land had been sighted to port. Colston hurried from his bed, not even pausing to pull on a coat, let alone doublet and hose, and ran to stare over the port side and there, sure enough, was a coastline. A coastline striking similar to the coasts around Bristol, dotted with coves and beaches that melted into green forests behind.

A modern photo of the coastline seen by the crew of the Virtue​

[1] A slightly mysterious class of ship from the medieval era that seems to have been halfway between a cog and a caravel but despite seemingly co-existing with the former for a long time and being similar in design to the latter it does not appear to have been used outside northern Europe. In northern Europe, however, it was popular with the merchants of England, the Low Countries and the Hanseatic League.

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Part 2 of 3 and I'm sure you can guess what's happening here. There are a few references sprinkled in here as well so do have a look for those. The third and final part of this chapter, which will well and truly begin the new arc, should be up in the next week or two but until then please do leave a like or comment and, most importantly, enjoy!
Gwyn

 

[perdu42]

please do leave a like or comment and, most importantly, enjoy!

My comment is that I'm enjoying this TL!

 

[RPW@Cy]

My first thought was that if merchantmen were being squeezed out of Bristol by building works and those that remained turning to subsistence fishing to survive, then it offers an opportunity for somewhere else to step in as a more welcoming trading port...

*cough*Cardiff*cough*

 

[Icedaemon]

So. In this timeline, it's lost English fishermen who (re)discover the Americas?

Spoiler: The isle of Colston, just off the coast of Edwardia?

 

[P L Richards]

My first thought was that if merchantmen were being squeezed out of Bristol by building works and those that remained turning to subsistence fishing to survive, then it offers an opportunity for somewhere else to step in as a more welcoming trading port...

*cough*Cardiff*cough*

Possibly, although don't forget that during the Middle Ages Caerdydd was less important as a port than Abertawe or even Casgwent (Chepstow). Chepstow was a significant walled market town, and being near the mouth of the River Wye (Avon Gwy) was an important port serving the Wye Valley and the city of Henffordd (Hereford). IMO if merchants leave Bristol for Wales they're more likely to go to Chepstow, jusr across the Severn.

 

[P L Richards]

Note also that OTL's Richard Amerike, Bristol merchant, royal customs officer and Sheriff of Bristol, after whom America almost certainly wasn't named , was originally Richard ap Meurig from somewhere in the Welsh Marches. In TTL, if he exists at all, 'Rhisiart ap Meurig' will never go to Bristol, but will be a merchant/port officer at Casgwent (Chepstow).

 

[Neoteros]

Just catched up with all this, well done.

 

[Gwrtheyrn Annwn]

Chapter 33: Of Fishermen, Monks and Princes
Part 3: Ripples in a Pond​

The coastline that Young John saw was, despite the similarities to that of their homeland, an alien shore to the English fishermen. Nonetheless, they were far from home and completely lost and thus, the decision was taken by Captain Colston to make a landing. There was an outside chance that it was in fact the home for which they so longed and even if it wasn’t, it would be good to have something to eat instead of fish. Drawing closer to the coast, Colston ordered two rowboats to be lowered over the side and put ashore, the Captain himself at their head.

The three crafts pulled themselves towards the coast, buffeted by the surging waters of the sea, and, straining against their oars, crunched ashore in a rocky cove. Springing out of the boat, sword in hand, Captain William Colston stared around the cove and began to climb up over the rocks towards the thick pines that ringed the beach. Behind him, his sailors were a little more hesitant, boat hooks unfortunately don’t fill the heart with quite as much bravery as a sword. As Captain Colston neared the pines there was a rustling sound as feet trod on fallen needles and pushed through shrubs, Colston raised his sword, pointing threateningly at where the sound was emanating from.

“Who’s there?” The fisherman cried. “Show yourselves!”

Behind him, his men paused, doing their best to wield their boat hooks like spears, and stood there in a ragged line, quaking slightly.

“Show yourselves!” Captain Colston called again. “We are simply lost, we mean no harm!”

Out of the green-tinged shadows, first one man, then another, then another and another until there were 10 in all, stepped forwards. Colston stumbled backwards, still holding his word firmly forwards, for these men were unlike any he, or any of his sailors, had seen before. They had jet black hair, tied back in ponytails and with feathers stuck in place, and reddish-brown skin, not that Colston and his men could see much of their skin, however, as they were wrapped against the bitter sea air in thick furs. Worst of all for the Englishmen, though, they all held bows, arrows notched in place, aimed straight at them.

Colston scrambled to his feet and continued backing away, hands, now devoid of a sword which had been dropped as he stumbled, raised and open palms facing the men.

“We mean no harm!”

One of the men stepped forwards and lowered his bow, though his companions kept theirs firmly pointed at the Englishmen, and began to speak, in a language Colston did not understand.

“Who are you?”[1]

Colston looked at him blankly and simply repeated himself, no longer in a threatening tone but rather quieter, almost panicky.

“We are lost. We mean no harm.”

He gestured to his men to lower their boat hooks and most of them did so, but two or three clutched the poles and refused to let go. The fur-clad man, who appeared to be the leader of the band, repeated the same unintelligible phrase. By some good fortune or divine inspiration, Colston managed to answer to.

“English...We are Englishmen. Lost. We mean no harm.”

The strange man cocked his head to one side, as if he had somehow understood Colston and was now processing the information. After a few moments he replied and this time Colston understood him.

“Ing-er-is.”

Colston smiled in relief, though it would be short lived.

“Y..yes. English. We...we are lost.” He paused, swallowed and continued. “Can you help us?”

The man did not speak and simply made a gesture with his hand which must have been some kind of signal as his companions immediately lowered their bows and walked forwards with an agile grace that even a fishing captain like Colton recognised as that of practicised hunters. The men moved past Colston and advanced on the fishermen, those still holding boat hooks waved them vaguely at the advancing hunters but in moments they had surrendered. Colston himself simply watched helplessly and continued to hold his hands up before surrendering himself meekly to the leader.

One of the most famous depictions of a Beothuk, though a later painting and of a girl it gives a good idea of the Beothuk complexion, hair and clothing​

---

Colston and his men were, as far as they knew, the first Europeans in this strange new land. Taken through the dense pine forests by the fur-clad men, they would eventually reach some kind of small settlement, little more than a camp. Colston would later write one of the first books to be widely published on the time he spent with the people he identified as the Beothuk, but for now this history will move to the rest of his crew that remained on the Virtue. Young John, ever vigilant, had seen Colston and his party taken into the forest and ran to the First Mate, one Walter Graham, who immediately set down two more row boats and led a second party to the shore. Hauling hard against the sea squall, they pushed towards the shore, scrambled up the rocky beach and set off after Colston and his companions but they were long gone, vanished into the depths of the forest. They would remain off the coast of the new found land for another week but after two or three more days searching for their Captain, they abandoned all hope of finding him. Filling the remaining time, in which they still held out hope that Colston might yet reappear, with hunting and gathering for food, they eventually set sail for home.

The journey home was long and storm blown and they returned to Bristol in the spring of 1493. As the battered and beleaguered Virtue sailed up the Avon, boatmen paused their work to watch what could surely only be a ghost ship and by the time they docked in Bristol there was a crowd of curious onlookers gathered to see them come in to port. There was a palpable nervous excitement as the rumours spread that this was the Virtue, the ship thought long lost in the treacherous Atlantic, the ship that carried the heir of the Colston family and dozens of the sons of Bristol too. Walter Graham appeared at the prow, leaning heavily on the rail that ringed the deck, and with a single trembling arm waved at the crowds who only looked on in silence. The Virtue drifted slowly forwards, the remaining scraps of sail drifting lazily in the sea breeze, and finally came to a halt against the dock. A gangway was laid out and the crew, or at least what remained of it, began to disembark.

The return of the Virtue to Bristol provided a welcome relief and distraction to the people of the city but the relief of the Colston family soon turned to despair when Walter Graham and Young John told them how their son had been lost in the strange far-off land. And it was this that gripped the public imagination. The New World Mania had come and apparently gone but now, as the crew of the Virtue’s story spread, it gripped the nation once more. The Colston family offered a prize for the rescue of their son, tales and rumours of gold spread, on no evidence it has to be said, and it reached the ears of the King himself. The tale gripped Edward VI, was this the opportunity that he needed? Were these new lands home to the riches that England needed? And so, in the summer of 1493, a fleet of 4 ships, the New World, which was the flagship, the Honour, the Rose and the Goshawk, was assembled in Bristol with the financial backing from both the Colstons and Edward VI. No expense was spared and the ships were well equipped and well stocked but the crown jewel of the expedition was the hiring of the well travelled and vastly experienced Venetian captain Marco Zanetti, who had sailed to the fishing grounds several times with the Basque among other achievements, to lead the expedition. They set off in July with great fanfare and embarked on the journey to the strange new world.

A contemporary Italian painting of Captain Marco Zanetti​

---

The setting sail of the Royal Expedition gave the rumours and stories of the New World more weight than ever before and the ripples spread across the pond that was the British Isles and then further into Europe. Though Edward VI did attempt to keep the discovery a secret for a short time, news quickly spread, as momentous news is wont to do, but of course news is just rumours unless there is proof and, though the great port cities of Europe were awash with the tales of a strange land across the sea, no monarch agreed to finance their own expedition with the tales, which weren’t helped by the many embellishments of drunken sailors, being believed to be just that and the English being assumed to have simply ended up in Greenland and not any new found land. So it was that only the English ‘believed’ in the New World, in no small part because of the enthusiasm of their King. Well, that is not entirely true, the Welsh, having caught wind of the stories from across the Bristol Channel, were similarly enthused with excitement, not out of any particular need or even desire to stake a claim to any New World that might exist, but simply because of the songs that every Welsh bard knew and sang, the songs of Prince Madoc ab Owain Gynedd.

A 19th century drawing of Prince Madoc​

[1] Spoken in Beothuk
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Well, so much for getting in done by the New Year. But its here now, the first chapter of the new board. Chapter 33 is now concluded and the new era of the TL can begin in earnest. As always, please do leave a like or comment and, most importantly, enjoy!
Gwyn

 

[Heavy1]

I always loved the idea of Prince Madoc, so I really hope are you going to have that as a true story

 

[Neoteros]

Here's hoping the Welsh won't genocide their way to America.

 

[King_Arthur]

Welsh Colonies wen

 

[Icedaemon]

Virgin field epidemics will do the bulk of the genociding, but if they start out from the northeast, it could be that the more urbanized central and South American peoples manage to recover better before they fall under the sway of an old world power.

Hm. If no official name is given to the island yet and peaceful contact is made between Bill Colston and the natives, who learn to communicate with one another by the time the other English ships arrive, might Beothuk (or a corruption thereof) become the name of the island? Beauthak? Beothania?

 

[Gwrtheyrn Annwn]

Chapter 34: The Land of the Prince​

The story of Prince Madog was well known to the bards of Wales but, in truth, until the news of a New World over the ocean arrived in Wales it had been largely unknown among the wider populace, even among the nobility who listened to the songs of the bards in their great halls. When the new stories arrived, however, the similarities between the so-called New World and the new land across the ocean that Prince Madog had returned to Wales claiming to have found some 300 years previously. The real excitement for the important people of Wales, however, was that, according to the stories, Madog had not only found a new land, a fact that had seemingly been confirmed by the English, but established a colony there. It logically followed, therefore, that there was a community of Welshmen across the ocean in this New World, Welshmen who must be found.

The mere idea of this community of Welsh exiles gripped the public imagination, the romance of the liberated Wales following in the footsteps of an exiled Prince across the great ocean to find his new kingdom was the stuff of bards’ songs. It also transpired to be the stuff of priests’ sermons as priests across Wales began to give sermons on the topic of Prince Madog and how he had travelled to the New World to prepare the way the way for the Lord, just as John the Baptist had done for Jesus Christ[1] and that it was the Christian duty of both the King and people of Wales to continue his mission to the New World and bring Christianity to whatever inhabitants there were in that strange land. In the end though, it was neither songs nor sermons that dragged the attention of Wales across the ocean but a humble merchant and customs officer in Cas-Gwent[2] by the name of Rhisiart ap Meurig.

A contemporary image of a customs officer, like Rhisiart ap Meurig, inspecting beer​

Like most of Wales he was familiar with the story of Prince Madog but also like most of Wales he had assumed them to be just stories. He was, however, no romantic and his interest in the New World was fuelled primarily by the rumours of resources to exploit. There was just one problem, money. Though relatively wealthy, the role of a customs officer being an easy one to skim profits from, ap Meurig was not rich enough to finance an expedition to the New World by himself, far from it, but being a man of business at heart he had a trick up his sleeve. He gathered a collection of his fellow merchants, as well as fishing magnates and other local businessmen, together in the White Hart public house in Cas-Gwent and together they formed the first stock company, or at least the earliest version of one in Western Europe. Drawing heavily on the merchant guilds, the concept was simple enough, each member contributed a certain sum to the pooled funds of the company and would then receive a percentage of the profits. The so-called White Hart Company or, to give the Company its full title, the Company of Merchant Adventurers to New Lands put together a small expedition of 3 ships between them and hired a local merchant captain, Carwyn ap Teifion, to lead it.

The three ships of the expedition in the Bristol Channel flying the flag of the White Hart Company​

The expedition set sail from Cas-Gwent in August, about a month after the English expedition, and made landfall roughly 2 months later. They did not know it at the time but they had landed nearly 2000 miles south down the east coast from where the Virtue had come ashore. Having arrived in the New World, however, they found themselves with the problem of explorers when they had discovered a new land, what to do when they got there? Finding and confirming the existence of the New World was in itself an achievement but ap Teifion’s expedition was there in the pay of a company, a company that expected profits. Their instructions therefore, had been to try and find the rumoured wealth to tap. Captain ap Teifion thus had little choice but to send out search parties into the strange new land. This did not go well. The search parties regularly encountered the natives of the New World and, unfortunately for the Welsh, they proved to be rather hostile. The encounters between the search parties and the natives almost always quickly descended into violence, that is if they hadn’t been simply ambushed in the first place, and the grand sum of their achievements was to capture on native warrior and bring him back to camp where he was clapped in irons. With the unwilling aid of their captive, they were able to hunt some unusual animal specimens including large edible birds and some kind of wild giant cow as well as forage both strange tubers that transpired to be edible if not particularly pleasant to eat in their raw state and some leaves that the natives appeared to chew and smoke. These weren’t exactly what the rumours had told of but with his crews being increasingly whittled down by native attacks, so much so that ap Teifion was started to worry that he wouldn’t actually have enough men left to sail back to Wales, he decided to call it quits and packing up what unusual specimens they could, the animals they packed with salt, the tubers they threw in a sack and hoped they wouldn’t rot and the leaves they dried, they set sail back home.

A contemporary image of hunting the bison, the artist has clearly taken some liberties, not least the building in the background​

They arrived back in Cas-Gwent nearly 6 months after they had set out, having dragged out their time in the New World somewhat longer than had really been wise, to hear that the English expedition had also returned with similar results, if a little quicker than they had. The specimens that they had brought home with them quickly became a sensation, first in Cas-Gwent and then across Wales, especially the animal corpses, which, though technically still edible, now had far more value as whole preserved specimens. So much value, in fact, that they had only been in Wales a few days before they were purchased, along with the dried leaves (the tubers having rotted) by the aged Llywellyn I and brought to his court where they became what we might now call tourist attractions. The native, meanwhile, had unfortunately died during the passage. At the time this was attributed to terrible sea-sickness but was likely to have been the first documented example of the Devil’s Bargain or New World Exchange that saw thousands of the New World natives die from common European diseases. So it was that, despite actually failing in their stated objective, even if ap Meurig was able to squeeze a high price from King Llywellyn I for the specimens, the expedition as to inspire many more.

[1] Mark Chapter 1, Verse 3
[2] Chepstow
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The Welsh have made it to the New World and the first effects are being felt on both sides of the ocean. Not entirely happy with this chapter I have to admit but as always please do leave a like or comment and, most importantly, enjoy!
Gwyn

 

[RPW@Cy]

Chapter 34: The Land of the Prince​

The Welsh have made it to the New World and the first effects are being felt on both sides of the ocean. Not entirely happy with this chapter I have to admit but as always please do leave a like or comment and, most importantly, enjoy!
Gwyn

I tend to make myself somewhat unpopular in Nationalist circles by being a sceptic of the Madog legend (it was an extremely obscure tale until the Tudors needed an excuse to establish a claim to the New World that predated the Spanish), but I can fully see that it's something that would get a big boost with the discovery of an actual new world and this feels like a realistic and unromantic take on the subject

 

[King_Arthur]

Looking good so far!

 

[Icedaemon]

So. No bisonburgers yet?

Well, bison cawl, I guess.

 

[perdu42]

Not entirely happy with this chapter I have to admit but as always please do leave a like or comment and, most importantly, enjoy!

You are too hard on yourself.
An enjoyable update!

 

[Bytor]

…but they had landed several hundred miles south down the east coast…and some kind of wild giant cow as well…

If the first ship landed on Newfoundland (as per use of Beothuk), the a few hundred miles south is only Nova Scotia which was not part of the pre-European range of the bison. St. John's to Halifax is a bout 549 miles on the great circle. You'd need to go as far south as OTL Delaware to have Captain Teifion's men have a reasonable chance of running into bison for how far they'd be able to penetrate from the coast. There'd be plenty of moose in Nova Scotia, but that wouldn't be quite as exotic as they'd just be seen as (Euopean) elks.