To My Readers!
In 2007, I (Marconi) was invited as a screenwriter to help create the computer game Sea Dogs: A Pirate's Story [«Корсары: Історія пірата»]. This non-profit project was driven by a tight-knit group of like-minded creators fueled by pure enthusiasm. While the Dutch storyline (developed by Klinok) was already undergoing successful sea trials, my task was to craft the national campaign for France.
The game's title, A Pirate's Story, implied that the gameplay would be anchored in the real-life events of the main character. I decided that this character should be Michel de Grammont—a vivid, monumental figure in the 17th-century Caribbean during the golden age of seafaring lawlessness. At the time, we didn't even stop to consider that Captain de Grammont had absolutely nothing to do with any bloody pirate brotherhood. Assuming, of course, that this "brotherhood" wasn't just another figment of someone's imagination. Piracy as a phenomenon undoubtedly existed there, but certainly not on the grand scale that pop culture forces upon us today.
Furthermore, the Spaniards surely branded all Frenchmen as pirates. The French and the English paid the Spaniards back in kind, while to the Dutch, anyone who so much as touched their cargo was instantly deemed a robber and a gallows-bird.
If you ask the internet about even a slightly well-known figure in the Caribbean, you will immediately get a tangled mess of terms: buccaneer, pirate, privateer, corsair, and even a bit of flibustier. The web’s depth of understanding on this matter remains incredibly shallow.
The game Sea Dogs: A Pirate's Story was released for free in June 2008, becoming a true pioneer in adapting Captain de Grammont's persona for subsequent video games in the Sea Dogs [«Корсары»] series.
That same summer, I set out to write the Captain de Grammont book cycle, determined to recreate those Caribbean adventures on the pages of my novels.
At times, the plot would stall; at others, it twisted so wildly that it felt as though my writer’s pen was guided by the hand of de Grammont himself. There is no surprise in that—over the course of eighteen years, an author and his character can truly become kindred spirits. In the first book, The Shipyard of Fate, Michel and I never actually made it to the Caribbean, choosing instead to conclude the plot with that famous Parisian duel.
The ruins
of Château de Granges-le-Bourg
Personally, I don't enjoy digging through archives, hunting for scattered fragments of information just to piece them together. It is tedious work, but the writer’s path demands it, and frankly, the result has exceeded all expectations.
I invite you on a historical journey that begins at the height of the Middle Ages and concludes in the Modern Era. Together, we will uncover fascinating facts and historical curiosities, cross-reference dates, and conduct our own analysis based on what we’ve unearthed. In the end, we will arrive at a conclusion whose raw realism is ready to challenge centuries-old dogmas.
In 1226, Seigneur Guillaume II de Granges, a prominent feudal lord and landowner in the Franche-Comté region of the County of Burgundy, granted an appanage to his third son, Hugues de Granges. This appanage was a wild, densely forested land known as the "Great Mountain" (Grandis Mons in Latin, Grammont in Old French). Hugues was a clever young man; he erected a formidable castle there and began signing his name as Hugues de Granges, Seigneur de Grammont.
Over the next fifty years, the ancestral estate became fractured. In medieval law, property was rarely owned entirely by a single individual. The de Grammonts had many children, and the castle along with its surrounding lands was split into shares among brothers, cousins, and even the Marast Monastery, which acquired rights to portions of the adjacent land as gifts for the repose of souls.
The coat of arms
of Guillaume II de Granges.
The situation was saved by Guillaume de Granges (son of Guyot I). In 1278, he bought out all the minor shares, surrendered the lands of Uzelle (the dowry of his wife, Isabelle) to the monastery, and obtained sole ownership of Grammont, making the estate whole and independent once more.
The lineage faced a true crisis in 1335. The male line of the house's patriarch, Hugues, hit a dead end with the knight Gui de Granges. Leaving no surviving male heirs, and determined to keep the castle from falling into stranger hands, he drafted a will. The estate was inherited by a close relative from his mother's side of the House of Granges—Guyot II de Granges. He permanently fused the two names into the Grammont-Granges branch. From this lineage, several illustrious Burgundian branches later split off: Grammont-Fallon, Grammont-Melisey, Grammont-Châtillon, and others. It is from one of these—specifically the Grammont-Melisey branch—that our legendary captain, Michel de Grammont, descends.
The coat of arms of the de Grammont lineage deserves a story of its own.
In the 12th century, the House of Granges was bestowed the high honor of guarding a sacred relic—the bones of the Three Christian Kings (the Magi), who had traveled to pay homage and bring gifts to the infant Jesus. Originally kept in Constantinople, the relics were moved to Milan in the 6th century.
In 1164, the Holy Roman Emperor Frederick I Barbarossa captured and plundered Milan. He turned over his prized plunder—the shrine containing the relics of the Three Kings - to his loyal ally, Chancellor and Archbishop of Cologne, Rainald von Dassel. The Archbishop carried the holy relic across Europe to Germany (it was specifically to house these relics that the Cologne Cathedral was later built). The route from Milan to Cologne passed through the Franche-Comté region (Upper Burgundy).
The coat of arms of the de Grammont family.
Moving at a slow pace, the procession halted to rest at a small local abbey, Lieu-Croissant, situated on lands that would later belong to the de Grammonts. In gratitude for their hospitality and protection, Rainald von Dassel left the monks a priceless gift: a finger bone of one of the Three Kings (Saint Caspar).
For the small abbey, this brought immense prestige. The monastery was immediately and unofficially renamed the "Abbey of the Three Kings" (Abbaye des Trois Rois). The Lieu-Croissant monastery was under the direct patronage and defense of the Seigneurs de Granges (from whom, as we already know, the de Grammonts branched off a century later).
As the secular protectors (avoués) of this holy relic, they held the full legal right to display the symbol of the sacred object they guarded on their battle standard and shield. Thus, three male profiles wearing ancient "antique" crowns appeared on their ancestral coat of arms as a symbol of the Three Kings.
While the Lieu-Croissant abbey itself stood until the French Revolution, when it was destroyed, the memory of it endured within the coat of arms.
A historical curiosity! In the 14th and 15th centuries, Gothic artists redrew coats of arms in the refined style of that era—clean-shaven, with long flowing hair. Medieval scribes, unaware of the background story, officially recorded these changes in armorial registries, describing them as "three female busts." Today, the coat of arms featuring the three maidens belongs to the commune of Grammont in the Haute-Saône department, but we know precisely which events led to the Three Kings being depicted on the original ancestral shield.
The unified coat of arms of the Grange-Grammont family
The quarterly coat of arms of the Granges-Grammont family is divided into four sections. The first and fourth quarters display the original, purely knightly coat of arms of the de Granges: a geometric shield featuring a gold saltire (St. Andrew's cross) on a field of gules (red). The second and third quarters feature the three kings (the Magi) on a field of azure (blue) – the heritage of the Grammont lands.
In today's realities, years fly by quickly, and memory is so selective that sometimes it is foolish even to try to recall events of a month ago. What can be said about a span of centuries? There is little trust in researchers who claim to know what and how things truly happened back then. But we will not grope blindly through the wilderness of chronologies; instead, we shall rely only on known facts.
The Duchy of Burgundy – lands belonging to the territory of France. The County of Burgundy (Franche-Comté, the "Free County") was part of the Holy Roman Empire.
In the 15th century, the ancestral coat of arms of the Grange-Grammonts shone at the peak of its power. The ancestors of Michel de Grammont served the great Dukes of Burgundy, the local nobility flourished, and this dual autonomy suited everyone.
In 1467, Charles the Bold inherited both titles from his father, Philip III the Good. Leveraging the unique duality and the vast resources of both Burgundies, Charles set a goal to create a single independent kingdom situated between Germany and France.
Everything collapsed on January 5, 1477, during the Battle of Nancy.
In a fifteen-degree frost, betrayed by mercenaries and surrounded on all sides, Charles the Bold, with a small detachment of knights — including those from the Houses of Grange and Grammont — attempted to fight back against the overwhelming forces of the enemy. He was swept away by his own fleeing army and subsequently killed.
The body of the last Duke of Burgundy to hold real power, hacked by enemies, plundered by marauders, and mangled by wild beasts, was found two days later in a frozen pond. The same fate befell his loyal knights.
Charles the Bold at the Battle of Nancy.
Based on the original scene "La mort de Charles le Téméraire dans la bataille, à Nancy, en 1477" by Alphonse de Neuville.
Mary of Burgundy, the twenty-year-old daughter of the duke, became the sole heiress to a vast state. We will not speculate whether Louis XI, known for his cunning, had a hand in Charles's defeat, but France immediately seized the opportunity. The King marched his troops into the territories of Burgundy, claiming that a woman could not inherit sovereign land. The Duchy of Burgundy submitted, but Franche-Comté, true to the spirit of the "Free County," fought back.
To save her lands, Mary made the dynastic maneuver of the century - she married Maximilian of Austria, the son of the Holy Roman Emperor. Franche-Comté officially came under the protection of the German crown, but in reality, a time of the harshest trials began.
The ancient chivalric nobility of the Grange-Grammonts, closely tied to the Burgundian Dukes of Valois, took Louis XI's invasion as a personal insult. When the French began systematically burning towns that refused to surrender, the Grammonts, faithful to their oath to Mary of Burgundy and her house, resisted the occupiers for sixteen years. They kept anti-French sentiments alive, took part in partisan movements, and held the defense in their castles. The war ended only in 1493 with the signing of the Treaty of Senlis.
The matured Maximilian, who had gained experience and political weight and had become the head of the Empire by this time, took advantage of the favorable situation and forced France to leave.
The Grammont family breathed a sigh of relief. From then on, their feudal freedom was truly protected by the imperial eagle. In the following centuries, the Grammonts remained one of the most influential and loyal pillars of the Habsburgs, right up until the end of the XVII century, when France finally annexed the region under Louis XIV.
A little about Maximilian and Mary
Their fathers arranged the union matchmaking from afar, long before they met in person. But when the young people saw each other for the first time, they fell in love instantly.
In a letter to his friend Sigmund, Maximilian wrote enthusiastically about Mary: “This lady is beautiful, pious, virtuous, with whom I, thank the Lord, am well pleased. She is fragile in build, with snow-white skin, brown hair, a small nose, a small head, and delicate facial features; her eyes are brown and gray at the same time, clear and beautiful. Her lower eyelids are slightly puffy, as if she has just risen from sleep, but it is barely noticeable. Her lips are a bit full, yet fresh and red. She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”
After the wedding, the newlyweds moved into a "shared" bedroom, which was completely unusual for dynastic alliances of that era. The marriage turned out to be a happy one, bringing three children (two of whom survived and made history), but it did not last long. Five years later, the young woman's life was cut short by a tragic accident—a fall from her horse during a falcon hunt.
We recreated the image of Mary of Burgundy based on the inspired description by her husband, where he, admiring his future wife, called her a "beauty" three times.
Mary of Burgundy.
A ceremonial 17th-century Spanish morion helmet. The primary military symbol of the era and the Spanish tercios.
In 1556, the pendulum of geopolitics swung once again. Emperor Charles V of Habsburg (grandson of Mary of Burgundy) abdicated the throne, dividing his empire into two realms: the German lands passed to his brother, while Franche-Comté and the Netherlands were granted to his son, King Philip II of Spain.
For the county, an era of the severest trials began.
On maps, Franche-Comté was still designated as part of the Holy Roman Empire, but in reality, it was ruled by distant, fanatical Madrid. The region turned into a Spanish enclave, squeezed by France to the west and Switzerland to the east. Across this strip of land ran the notorious "Spanish Road," along which the Spanish tercios marched to suppress the rebellious Netherlands. The French crown looked upon this sliver of territory at its borders with fury.
Franche-Comté was endlessly burned, plundered, and blockaded. Spain demanded submission and taxes from the local barons. The great noble houses balanced precariously between loyalty to the memory of Mary of Burgundy, service to the Habsburgs, and pressure from their rapacious neighbor.
In 1634, a full-scale, protracted war erupted in the region. The troops of Louis XIII, reinforced by mercenaries, methodically burned the lands to the ground. The Holy Roman Empire and Spain left Franche-Comté defenceless.
Walloon sword, early 17th century. Military weapon of the nobility 1635
To save their families from total annihilation, representatives of the noble lineages made a tactical compromise, sending their younger sons to swear allegiance to the French crown. This was facilitated by the policy of Cardinal Richelieu, his proclamations regarding the "liberation" of Franche-Comté from Spanish oppression, and the restoration of the region's ancient Burgundian liberties.
The young men were offered massive financial subsidies, the preservation of all feudal rights, and high-ranking positions in the French army. Those who entered the service of France, securing the status of a new elite for their families, were immediately sent to the fronts of the Thirty Years' War. Meanwhile, those who remained loyal to the Habsburgs and continued to fight the French in the local militia perished upon the walls of their besieged castles. Thus, it was not conviction that brought the younger sons of Franche-Comté to France, but the cruel necessity of family survival and the aggressive diplomacy of Richelieu, which fractured the nobility from within.
To avoid introducing historical contradictions, the subsequent course of events will be modeled with the utmost delicacy.
In 1634, Michel’s father (let us call him Philippe de Grammont) left Franche-Comté for Paris to enter the service of Louis XIII. By 1635, like most other young men of noble birth, he found himself on the front lines. In that year, France declared war on Spain and waged fierce hostilities until the signing of the Peace of Westphalia in 1648.
France had its share of both victories and its worst nightmares. When the Spaniards captured the fortress of Corbie, allowing them to advance directly toward Paris, panic erupted in the capital, which was just a hundred kilometers away. But for the most part, it was a succession of endless trench warfare without a clear advantage. Fierce local clashes, sieges, blockades, diseases, massive casualties on both sides, retreats, offensives, incredible resilience, and utter stupidity. In short, the objectives of the Thirty Years' War, like any other senseless slaughter—to exterminate as many people as possible—were accomplished.
The young Philip de Gramont got his full share of it. In which battles he fought remains anyone's guess, but we know about one engagement for certain.
The year 1638 and Aquitaine is our key node.
In June 1638, in an attempt to bring the war into Spanish territory, troops led by Condé besieged a border fortress-town on the shores of the Bay of Biscay. In the south of France, there was no land confrontation more massive and bloody than the siege of Fuenterrabía.
Dying of exhaustion and wounds, the defenders did not just hold the line but constantly made sorties, inflicting irreparable losses on the French.
In September 1638, Admiral Juan Alfonso Enríquez de Cabrera arrived to aid the besieged. Striking the French from the rear with his army, he delivered a crushing blow to the siege fortifications. Prince Condé's army fled in panic, abandoning their artillery.
The Castle of Charles V (the citadel of Hondarribia), which formed the backbone of the defense in 1638.
The wounded flooded into the hospitals of Bayonne. Officers of the high nobility, whose injuries required long recovery and special conditions, were taken further inland to the capital of Aquitaine, the city of Bordeaux.
For Philip de Gramont, the year 1638 became a milestone. For him, the war ended that year.
Bordeaux Cathedral (Cathédrale Saint-André), where French kings and nobility were traditionally married.
The fact that a wounded officer, a nobleman from Franche-Comté, was taken in by the local elite for rehabilitation was standard practice for the 17th century. On the other hand, the local nobility would never welcome a stranger without connections into their home, let alone marry off their daughter to him. In this case, even the most passionate young love would have been powerless. But since he came from a noble, albeit rebellious for France region, his status opened doors for him into the homes of the local judicial and landowning elite of Aquitaine. In turn, for the bride's father, his daughter's marriage to such a son-in-law was an opportunity to marry into the old military aristocracy - the 'nobility of the sword'.
The wedding most likely took place right there, in the regional capital, at the most prominent and prestigious venue—the Cathedral of Saint Andrew (Cathédrale Saint-André de Bordeaux).
This is a majestic Gothic cathedral, traditionally the wedding site for the high nobility and even French kings. The marriage to a local aristocrat permanently sealed his integration into the French elite.
In 1639, shortly after the birth of their first child (Michel's older sister), the Grammont family relocated to the capital. Noble lineage, proven battlefield valor, and the patronage of his wife's parents helped Philippe secure a prestigious post in the guards of King Louis XIII.
This explains why Michel de Grammont was born in Paris in 1641. The 1645 version, which wanders from one pirate encyclopedia to another, is based on a simple rounding of the date. Michel de Grammont was born during the final years of Louis XIII's reign, and the King passed away in May 1643.
We will attempt to fill in the subsequent blank spaces in Michel de Grammont’s biography through the plots of our books, but currently, only the third volume is in progress — "Beyond the Pale. Captain de Grammont". In this novel, Michel is just eighteen years old, and the capturing of Spanish forts is still a long way off...
It is well known that from 1678 onward, the name de Grammont began to echo across the entire Caribbean as he captured one Spanish citadel after another.
But why exactly at this time? What was the reason?
The answer lies in the events unfolding in Franche-Comté.
Inheriting the ambitions of the Valois dynasty, King Louis XIV Bourbon decided to put an end to the feudal defiance right at his doorstep. French army, wave after wave, marched into the region, burning down everything that resisted and utterly breaking the County of Burgundy.
The walls of ancient castles crumbled, unable to withstand the strikes of Vauban’s cutting-edge artillery.
Exhausted by the Franco-Dutch War, Spain signed the Treaties of Nijmegen in 1678, with the Habsburgs simply surrendering Franche-Comté to Louis. The Holy Roman Empire officially excluded the county from its territory. While Louis celebrated his victory, it was an absolute catastrophe for the local nobility. The King ordered the demolition of feudal castles to eliminate any future attempts at rebellion.
The Grammont ancestral castle, the very one built by Hugues de Grange for his descendants, was not merely dismantled. It was literally leveled to the ground.
The Grange-Grammont lineage ceased to exist as independent feudal lords. They lost their lands, courts, and revenues. The surviving representatives of the family were turned into ordinary, subjugated subjects of the French Crown.
What kind of letters could Grammont have been receiving from Franche-Comté? What could his relatives, who somehow survived this slaughter, have been telling him?
The ashes of Franche-Comté struck Grammont where it hurt most — his ancestral honor. A descendant of noblemen with a quarterly coat of arms bearing the Cross of Saint Andrew and the crowns of the Holy Magi, he was left without a homeland.
He loathed the very thought of groveling before Louis XIV, but he despised Spain even more for cowardly surrendering his native land and violating centuries-old oaths of protection.
The famous sack of Maracaibo in June 1678 was not just a raid for gold; it was Grammont's personal response to the Spanish Crown. The Spaniards betrayed his home on the mainland, so he burned down their city in the New World. A classic feudal vendetta, brought upon the waves of the Caribbean Sea.
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