The unexpected death of João IV in November 1658 had, as it were, frozen activities for the duration of the celebrations.
Mourning had fallen over Lisbon, and with it, a heavy silence had replaced the joyful bustle.
For João and his crew, the postponement of the marriages had been a temporary relief, but it wouldn't last.
The Queen Regent, Luisa de Guzmán, was quick to act. Once the initial shock of mourning passed, she understood the urgency of these marriages.
Portugal's independence did not rely solely on cannons and corsair wealth, but also on the solidity of its internal alliances.
Regency Council – January 1659
The Royal Palace in Lisbon. A somber, yet formal chamber. The air still carries the weight of mourning for João IV, but the business of the kingdom must continue.
The Queen Regent sits at the head of the polished table, her expression firm despite her recent widowhood. Afonso VI fidgets slightly to her right.
Queen Luisa: "My lords, the shadow of His Majesty's passing still lies heavy upon us all. Yet, the kingdom demands our vigilance. Our first duty is to ensure the stability of the Crown and the continuity of policy set forth by the late King."
Count of Ericeira: (Clears throat) "Indeed, Your Majesty. The very fabric of the realm depends upon it. Especially with the Spanish threat, however quiescent for the moment, always lurking."
Dr. Vieira da Silva: "Precisely, Count. The late King's vision for a stronger Portugal, economically and defensively, must not falter. Our treasury, despite recent… windfalls, requires constant attention."
Afonso VI mutters something about hunting, and the Queen gives him a subtle, sharp glance.
The Queen subtly shifts the discussion, subtly leading towards the true topic.
Queen Luisa: "Speaking of vigilance and economic strength… the reports from the Algarve are quite extraordinary. The completion of the barrage on the Odelouca, under the management of the new Fidalgos da Cota de Arma, is... a feat of engineering unheard of in our lifetime. Two million cubic meters of water, held back, ready to nourish those lands."
Count of Óbidos: (Scoffs lightly) "A grand ditch, Your Majesty. Dug by... certain individuals. Impressive for a public works, perhaps. But hardly the concern of this Council, focused on affairs of state and the dignity of the nobility."
Count of Ericeira: (A touch of disapproval in his voice for Óbidos's dismissiveness) "Forgive me, Count, but a project of that scale, financed entirely by private means and completed so swiftly... it speaks volumes about capability. The lands in question, long neglected, are now poised to yield bountifully. This affects the Crown's revenues directly."
Dr. Vieira da Silva: "Indeed, Count. The projections for future tax revenues from the Algarve, once those lands are fully cultivated and the Polish settlers established, are quite significant. A guaranteed income stream, even from… unconventional sources, strengthens the Crown's hand considerably."
The Queen seizes the opening, her gaze sharp as she addresses the unspoken disapproval.
Queen Luisa: "My lords, let us be frank. I am aware that the origins of these new Fidalgos stir... discomfort in some quarters. Their past as corsairs, their mercantile ventures – it is not the traditional path to nobility. I acknowledge that."
Count of Óbidos: "It is a stain, Your Majesty. A perilous precedent that could dilute the very essence of what it means to be noble. Blood and centuries of service, not mere coin and... adventure."
Queen Luisa: (Her voice hardening slightly) "And yet, Count, where were the ancient houses when we desperately needed ships to challenge the Dutch? Where was the immediate coin when the treasury cried out after the King's passing? These men, for all their 'unconventional' methods, delivered. They filled our coffers, they replenished our fleet, they struck a blow against the VOC that still echoes through the chancelleries of Europe. And now, they are transforming an entire province, creating wealth where there was little."
Dr. Vieira da Silva: "Their success with the VOC alone, Your Majesty, restored immense prestige to Portugal on the seas. A feat few of our grand admirals have equaled in recent memory. And the Companhia Horizon Brasil is a model of efficient enterprise, unlike many others burdened by tradition and red tape."
Count of Ericeira: "The King, God rest his soul, recognized their unique utility. He granted them the fiefs and the Cota de Arma. To retract or dismiss their achievements now would be to question His Majesty's own judgment, and more dangerously, to signal instability and ingratitude from the Regency. We cannot afford to alienate such… potent assets at this crucial juncture."
Afonso VI, who had been listening more intently than usual, nods almost imperceptibly, catching his mother's eye.
Queen Luisa: "Precisely, Count. Our kingdom needs every resource, every capable hand. Their wealth, however acquired, now flows into Portugal. Their lands prosper. And their loyalty, demonstrated through actions, is pledged to the Crown. To maintain the internal stability of our realm, and to send a clear message to our enemies and our allies of continuous, resolute policy, we must embrace their contributions. The marriages, my lords, will proceed as planned. They are a sign of unity and strength for the future."
__________
The Marriages Proceed (January 1659)
Starting in mid-January 1659, the marriage ceremonies resumed. Not as joyful festivities, but as solemn, almost austere events, reflecting the gravity of the times.
For João, it was an ordeal. To stand before the altar, to know that every word, every gesture was dictated by an implacable "Work For" logic, was a torture.
His fiancée, a high-born lady he barely knew, was the crystallization of this "spiderweb" that was entangling him. He played his part with glacial dignity, his mind elsewhere, already immersed in the next mechanical equation or the logistics of a new project. Their exchanges were polite, but devoid of the ardor he sought in the movements of invention. The reality of arranged marriages was harsh, a tasteless wine for one who dreamed of new flavors.
Exctracted from João's "Memoirs"
Here's what João wrote in "his memoirs" about the marriage and that of his peers( partally modified ):
"First, we ordered 11 manor houses on our lands; they were already under construction, but a little acceleration was needed. Then, we bought 10 more mansions in Lisbon itself to 'satisfy' the needs of the 'rituals,' each with its 'cohorts of servants and maids.'
The financing? The entirety of our income – rubber, sugar, various trades, the new textile block, the new concession in the Diamantina region – was reinvested for the development of the fiefs and various extensions, mainly for ships, as well as the development of the fief itself.
For the record, we had 'sold' the Brazilian dream to those Poles, Lithuanians, and even Italians, but ultimately it seems they largely decided to content themselves, if one can say so, with settling on lands they would never own, though our simplified tax system for our needs is well-received by the country's people. The rest is an account of my 'wedding night,' if you read on, please be of legal age!!!"
This is essentially my opinion of the facts, more than the certain reality.
The marriage of the Corsair and the Lady: A January Night in Lisbon (1659)
At the Castello Branco palace, the agitation was feverish, yet discreet. Dona Beatriz de Castelo Branco, João de Carrasca's fiancée, embodied aristocratic grace. Daughter of one of Portugal's oldest and most respected lineages, she had been prepared from birth for a marriage of alliance. Although the fiancé was a "new rich" with a corsair past that still caused whispers in some salons, his fortune and, more importantly, the Crown's unwavering support, made this marriage imperative.
The eve was dedicated to prayer and contemplation for the bride. Dona Leonor spent her last hours in the family's private chapel, hands clasped in prayer, her heart oscillating between duty, a morbid curiosity about the man awaiting her, and a touch of apprehension. João de Carrasca, "the Wolf of the Atlantic" as he was sometimes called, was not a gentleman of tender manners; certainly, he had poetry, but this poetry was not about adherence to certain "rules," his discipline sometimes mixed with reverie.
The Ceremony at Lisbon Cathedral (Sé de Lisboa)
On the morning of the appointed day, Lisbon adorned itself in finery. The Sé de Lisboa, the ancient cathedral, shone brightly. Tapestries hung from the columns, pure wax candles filled the air with a soft perfume, mingling with incense. The polished wooden benches were filled with dignitaries from the Court, old and new fidalgos, members of the Regency Council, and the most distinguished families of the realm. The murmur ceased at the bride's entrance.
Dona Leonor advanced down the nave, a veil of Spanish bobbin lace covering her face, but not hiding the grace of her silhouette in her ivory and silver silk gown, embroidered with tiny pearls that glittered in the candlelight. Her bridesmaids, in pastel tones, followed her, carrying her long train.
At the altar, João de Carrasca awaited her. Tall and imposing, he wore a dark velvet doublet, richly embroidered with silver thread, and breeches that emphasized his muscular thighs. A silver-hilted sword hung from his hip. His face, marked by sun and wind, contrasted with the paleness of the Court nobles. But his eyes, a mix of blue and green, rested on Dona Beatriz with an intensity that denoted genuine curiosity.
The ceremony followed the Tridentine Catholic rite. The bishop, with a grave voice, pronounced the blessings and vows. João's hands, accustomed to the roughness of ropes and the cold of iron, took Dona Leonor's delicate, fine ones. Their "yes" was uttered with the solemnity the moment demanded. The exchange of rings, simple gold bands, sealed the commitment. The newlyweds knelt for the final blessing, while the bells of the Sé joyfully pealed, announcing the union to the city.
The celebration continued at the Royal Palace, where a sumptuous banquet awaited the guests. The tables, laden with delicacies, sagged under the weight of roasted wild boar, peacocks in full plumage, exotic fish brought from overseas possessions, breads of all shapes, and monastic sweets that rivaled in delicacy. Wine from Douro and Bairrada flowed abundantly.
João and Dona Beatriz sat at the head table, flanked by the Queen Regent and the most eminent members of the Council. The conversation was lively, punctuated by laughter and toasts. Musicians played lutes and harps, while troubadours recited praises to the newlyweds and the glory of Portugal. The display of wealth and power was evident, an affirmation of the Crown's stability and the fortune spent by Horizon Brasil in Lisbon for this celebration. João, though not given to formalities, participated with an air of satisfaction, exchanging a few words with the ministers and even a knowing glance with his "Pairs" at the neighboring table, all accompanied by their new wives.
The "Pôr na Cama": An Ancient Ritual
As night fell, the atmosphere changed. The ritual of the "Pôr na Cama" (literally, "putting to bed") began, an ancient tradition within the nobility. It was a public ceremony, intended to attest to the marriage and its future consummation.
João was led to the nuptial chamber by the men of the Court, the Count of Ericeira and other fidalgos. Amidst boisterous jokes and sometimes crude jests, they helped him remove his doublet and breeches, leaving him dressed only in his fine linen shirt. Laughter and exclamations accompanied each piece of clothing thrown to the floor.
In parallel, the ladies of the Court, led personally by the Queen Regent and the oldest and most respected ladies, escorted Dona Beatriz into the same room. With the same ease, but more discretion, they helped her unfasten her complicated stays and skirts, revealing her silk nightgown. Dona Beatriz's face was flushed, but she maintained her composure, aware that every gesture was observed.
Once both were in their nightclothes, the priest who had married them pronounced the ritual blessings, the same bishop of the Sé, who offered the final prayers for fertility and the blessing of the union. Witnesses from the family and the Court observed intently, the presence of a richly adorned bed dominating the room, with embroidered linen sheets and velvet bedspreads.
Finally, the chamber door closed, and silence fell after the receding bustle of the Court. Only the flickering light of the candles illuminated the vast room. The air, previously filled with voices and laughter, now carried the weight of expectation and intimacy.
João, accustomed to agitated decks and cold sea nights, the agitation of brothels and their simplicity, felt the strange warmth of the room and Dona Beatriz's delicate perfume. He turned to her, the lady who was now his wife, his partner in this new and grand enterprise. His gaze rested upon her, not with the curiosity of an explorer, but with a deeper intensity.
For Dona Beatriz, this night marked the end of one life and the beginning of another, perhaps a renaissance. The prayers, the blessings, the ancient rites culminated in this moment of surrender. Her body, previously covered and untouched, was now exposed to the man who was her husband. Curiosity and nervousness gave way to a serene acceptance of her destiny.
The consummation of the marriage was more than a physical act; it was the seal of the alliance, the promise of descendants, and the foundation of a new lineage. In this moment of privacy imposed by centuries of tradition, the "daughter of honor" and the "son of fortune" united, forging not only a personal bond but also a step for the future of the kingdom of Portugal.
The Morning After
At daybreak, tradition required "proof" of consummation, often symbolically, to attest that the marriage had been consummated and was valid. Breakfast, served in the nuptial chamber in the presence of ladies-in-waiting and close relatives, would confirm the couple's new reality. The festivities would continue for several days, but for João and Dona Beatriz, their life together had begun, forged between millennial tradition and the audacity of a new era, and probably already at this moment, little Simão, yet to come.
___________
Flashback 1657: Coat of Arms Discussion
"So, we're going to be ennobled, then?"
"Yeah, it's undeniable. We'll have to think about the coat of arms."
"One of those panthers we saw in Brazil…" Diogo threw out.
"The big black cats?"
"Yeah, those ones."
"No, senhor de la Vega."
"De la Vega?" Diogo looked at João fixedly, as if caught off guard by an unexpected speech.
"Yeah, we also need to find family names, too… And then: an iron fist holding a flower: like when you go to the brothel… an iron fist holding flowers, and a velvet glove, yeah, a velvet glove," João looked at the ceiling as if absorbed by the description he had to make, "with a flaming sword, like in the tales of King Arthur and the Round Table."
"Tales of what?"
João, regaining his seriousness: "Ha! It was worth it that I forced you to learn to read! It's available at the Lisbon library anyway."
"Okay then, for you: a tree with lots of gold, nothing but gold."
João interrupted him: "Ha no! No gold! It makes men… feverish…"
"So be it, so be it, silver then, instead of gold. A tree, a 16th-century pirate captain on his great carracks, the carrasca, the tree, and a carrack with small golden waves, ha no, silver then."
"Ha! Is it because I've become obsessed with money recently? People must know how to watch the purse!" he affirmed.
"Yes," Rui chimed in, "and the flaming swords too…"
"Ha, so a hood and a bow for you, Rui?" Luis asked.
"Indeed, indeed, and an invisible bow and cape for you, Luis."
"Hahaha… very funny. Those rubber capes did make us some money, though."
"Hahahaha."
Narrative Shift – Describing the Coat of Arms
"These arms depict Dom Diogo as a man capable of brilliance and great determination when action is required, but who also possesses a serene core and a capacity to approach things with a certain lightness. The iron fist holding a flower is a powerful visual metaphor for his 'relaxed' personality that can explode into impulsivity, while the velvet glove holding a flaming sword symbolizes his astonishing mastery of a potentially destructive force."
"That's magnificent, Mestre, magnificent," said Luis, holding back a giggle.
__________
After the marriage festivities, João did not content himself with resting. The need for Portugal to end its conflict with Spain already drove him towards new projects, and he intended to use his new status and recent alliances to advance his intentions.
Shortly after the January 1659 celebrations, João's request for an audience with the Regency Council was quickly granted.
He presented not only as a newly married Fidalgo da Cota de Arma, Lord of Carrasca to a Castello Branco lady but also as the man behind the capture of the VOC fleet and the success of the Companhia Horizon Brasil. His stature had changed, and the Council knew it.
The council chamber was presided over by Queen Luisa de Guzmán, with young Afonso VI at her side, observing, while the Count of Ericeira, Dr. Vieira da Silva, and the Count of Óbidos were also present. The atmosphere was more tense; the kingdom was going through a period of consolidation after the death of King João IV.
João entered, resolute. He bowed deeply before the Queen, then greeted the Council members, with all the etiquette of tradition.
"Your Majesties, Noble Lords," João began, his voice clear and without the slightest trace of hesitation, "I present myself today, not out of personal ambition, but for what I believe to be a necessity and an opportunity for Portugal."
The Count of Óbidos raised an eyebrow, visibly skeptical.
"Last week's marriage is a sign of celebration and festivity," João continued. "But another, even more jubilant celebration, I believe, will be the full and complete recognition of our independence by Spain. For that, it is not enough to hold our positions. We must force their hand."
João then unfolded his proposal, explaining it like a naval tactician:
"I propose a military expedition to São Vicente de Alcântara," he declared, naming a strategic border town. "An operation conducted not as a simple incursion, but as a bold seizure, intended to provoke a Spanish reaction, to provoke a wave of reprisals from the Spanish, an opportunity to surprise them."
He paused, letting the information sink in. The mention of São Vicente de Alcântara (the current Alcántara, in Spain, near the Portuguese border) immediately caught the attention of the military council.
"The purpose of this military exploitation," João continued, "would be to offer our Castilian neighbors what they least desire: a second major and humiliating defeat against Portugal. A defeat so resounding that it would, virtually, force them to accept our independence and cease this insidious conflict that is draining us."
The Count of Ericeira, despite his prudence, listened attentively. A public defeat for Spain could indeed have a major political impact.