Some basic information in advance:
The Thirty Years' War (1618-1648), one of the most gruesome wars in the history of mankind, was prompted by a revolt of Protestant Bohemians against the dominion of Habsburg Austria. It was fuelled by increasing religious and political disagreement between Catholic and Protestant countries within the Holy Roman Empire. Soon, it transformed into a European war that was predominantly fought within the HRE. In the early 1830s, the Swedes intervened in order to support the Protestant powers in the HRE.
Nördlingen, situated to the north of the river Danube, was an Imperial City at the time. It was close to Protestant Württemberg as well as to the Catholic powers of (Further) Austria and Bavaria. Despite being Protestant itself, Nördlingen remained loyal to Emperor Ferdinand II (of the House of Habsburg) for a long time. When it was faced with a large Swedish army in 1632, the city defected to the Protestant/Swedish side—a logical decision without viable alternatives, but also one that was largely welcomed by the townsfolk.
Since their names may become a bit confusing:
- Ferdinand of Hungary (1608-1657) is Ferdinand, King of Hungary and Bohemia, son of Emperor Ferdinand II who was to become Emperor Ferdinand III in 1637.
- Don Fernando (1609 or 1610-1641) is Cardinal-Infante Fernando de Austria, Archbishop of Toledo, Ferdinand of Hungary's brother-in-law. He is commonly called "Ferdinand" in English (and German) too but I wanted to avoid confusion with the other Ferdinand.
August (Julian calendar)/September (Gregorian calendar) 1634: During the Thirty Years' War
Austria's ears hurt from the thunder of the artillery he heard in the distance. He had been suspecting he was getting an ear infection, but the pain he had felt had lessened soon after the cannonade had paused for a while two days ago. So perhaps it was just that he was feeling exhausted from this long war and tense from their preparations to take Nördlingen by storm. The background noise from the ordnance was giving him a headache on top of that.
He liked the quiet. He liked melodic sounds. Music. Not the barbaric noise of war.
It was at least some consolation that his commander actually shared his passion for music. Ferdinand was an educated person; sophisticated; more willing to compromise than his father, the Emperor—or so it seemed. War had the potential to bring out the best and the worst in people; Austria had witnessed this numerous times during his long life. He hoped it would bring out the best in Ferdinand because he found he actually liked the man. Perhaps Ferdinand had the potential to become a better ruler than his father because he seemed to understand that conflicts were never settled by crushing the enemy but always during talks with one's former enemy.
That was, if Ferdinand lived for long enough, and if there would ever be an end to all this. After sixteen years of war, right in the middle of a siege, peace was a thing that seemed hard to imagine. But Austria needed to imagine it from time to time; needed to remember that there had always been periods of peace and periods of war before this specific war had begun. It was what gave him the energy to pull through the next day; to be the positive and reassuring figure his troops needed to see. He had never been particularly strong physically, but he made up for that shortcoming with tenaciousness, strategic thinking, and skilled fencing on horseback. It was tough, but he was able to do it.
He tried not to think about how it had to be for young people who had possibly never known anything but this war. How many sixteen-year-olds were there in their army? How was it for them? Would they become old enough to see this war end? Perhaps they would live to loathe war, and there would be a period of peace after this one had ended … whenever that might be. It was a hope Austria clung to like a drowning man.
He was interrupted in his fantasies when he sensed someone approaching him. Looking up, he saw Johann Christoph von Adelshofen, one of the colonels of his army.
"Mylord!" he called. "The Spaniards are here!"
"Oh, thank God!" Austria exclaimed. He started to move immediately, mounting his horse with an energy he hadn't expected have in himself mere moments ago.
Together with Adelshofen, Ferdinand, and a large part of their army, Austria rode to the south of the Schönefeld, a terrain near Nördlingen where their army's encampment was situated. His heart started to beat faster when, without even consciously intending to do so, his eyes first fell on one knight in shining armour who rode near Don Fernando, the Spanish commander.
The only reason why the Spanish armaments seemed so clean was probably because they had marched through drizzly weather not long ago. Regardless, Austria didn't want to moderate his inward excitement at the sight of his husband. Spain was beautiful even if he seemed weary from the long ride and even if Austria spotted dark rings under his eyes as he came closer. The mere knowledge that he had come with Don Fernando's troops sufficed to lift a weight from Austria's heart and to inspire it with new confidence.
If he could have acted the way he wanted, he would have rushed to Spain and embraced him, but of course that wasn't possible. Apart from the need to keep face, they also felt the need to downplay the fact that their marriage wasn't a mere symbol for their shared ruling family, the Habsburgs. The inner circle of their rulers tended to turn a blind eye on their love because they saw it as a vehicle to strengthen the symbolic bond between their family branches. The vast majority of their armies, however—mercenaries, predominantly—were unlikely to do the same.
That was why their greeting remained cordial but formal: The inevitable Spanish kisses on the cheek; the usual courtesies; a short embrace between two warriors, clapping each other on the shoulder. It was something, at the least, but what Austria actually wanted was for him to rest his head against his husband's shoulder while Spain held him. He wanted to forget his worries about the large Swedish army they knew was advancing on them for just a little while.
Ferdinand, Don Fernando, their commanders, and the two countries retreated to Ferdinand's command tent where the Imperial commanders gave a short review of their current situation. They explained their maps and plans of the terrain, informing Don Fernando of their hope that Nördlingen would surrender to them before Gustav Horn and Bernard of Saxe-Weimar arrived with the grand Swedish army.
"We were getting ready to storm the city when you arrived," Ferdinand explained to Don Fernando. "The Bavarians are going to start with that tomorrow now." He nodded to Maximilian of Bavaria and Theodor, Austria's brother, who had arrived a little later than the others.
"We should give them one last chance to surrender," Austria suggested. "The situation has changed. Now they are facing many more besiegers than before. Perhaps they will be more willing to give up now." They knew the people in the city were almost starved, and there was a disease spreading within it. Maybe they were more willing to surrender once they knew how futile their resistance was.
There was also a part in Austria that wanted to acknowledge Nördlingen had been loyal to the Emperor until he was faced with Sweden's superior forces. He knew that, in Nördlingen's stead, he would have done the exact same thing in order to ensure his own survival. Yes, perhaps the decision had been easier for Nördlingen because he was a Lutheran. But the fact remained that he had been loyal to him until two years ago.
"It is worth one last try," Ferdinand agreed. "Volunteers?"
Adelshofen took one step forward. Ferdinand nodded, and the matter was settled.
Why am I not surprised? thought Austria. Somehow, it always seemed to be Adelshofen who was there when things needed to get done. He appreciated that.
Austria overviewed the Bavarian siege on Nördlingen from a wooded hill. Adelshofen's attempt to convince Nördlingen to give in had been unsuccessful, and that was why the siege had only been delayed for one day rather than getting cancelled.
"It's not that the people of this city are unwilling to yield," Adelshofen had told them. "It's the Swedish garrison who won't let them surrender. They're expecting the Swedish army to come to their aid at any time now."
And that was precisely why Austria was standing where he was now: To overview the siege but also to keep watch for Horn and Saxe-Weimar's joint army. The afternoon sun was beclouded by dust from the artillery and smoke from fires at the city wall. Watching a siege was always a grim sight, and Austria knew how it was to be on the other side too; to defend his city, his heart, while cannons were hitting the houses near the wall.
Things needed to get done, he remembered his thoughts from the day before. Laying siege to Nördlingen and eventually storming it was one of these things. Sweden's army had inflicted the south of the Empire with war, and the only way to stop that was reconquering cities held by the Swedes … and, eventually, facing them in open battle.
That last prospect scared him, but things needed to get done. He sighed. So I better be prepared.
"Rodrigo?" a voice close to him said softly. He wasn't surprised. He had noticed Spain coming closer for a while, drawing on the strange circumstance that, in times of war, his senses seemed to sharpen themselves without his own doing.
Of course that impression wasn't true. He had been trained to focus in these kinds of situations since he was little, but it was a thing that came back to him effortlessly, and he was glad about that.
"Antonio." He sighed again when Spain wrapped his arms around him from behind, this time out of relief. "It's good to have you here. You shouldn't have come, but I'm glad you did."
"There was so little time yesterday," Spain whispered, ignoring his statement. His lips were pressing little kisses on the nape of Austria's neck, and Austria was trembling. "I wanted to see you." Spain's hands started to roam over Austria's body greedily, but the only thing he said was: "You're way too thin." Austria snorted.
"There's a war going on," he said sardonically. "What do you expect."
"You should still try to pay more attention to your health," Spain replied dryly. "I don't think it will be helping matters if you faint on the battlefield out of exhaustion. You have to set a good example and fight."
"I know that," said Austria, trying to free himself from Spain's embrace.
"I'm just worried," Spain said gently, holding him more securely. "You always eat too less when you're strung up, regardless of the supply situation." His kisses became more firmly, extending to the base of his spouse's neck and to his shoulder. "I just want you to be healthy, and happy."
Austria wanted to give a bitter laugh—Happy? How could I possibly be happy now?—but he knew Spain was only trying to cheer him up. And in spite of his thoughts, he noticed his body relax into Spain's embrace too. Perhaps it remembered the staggering love he felt for that man better than he did in this situation. He stopped looking out, turned and wrapped his arms around Spain's shoulders, clinging to him with a force that surprised even him.
"Oh, Rodri." Spain kissed his temple. "You're so smart and so brave, but you sometimes forget that I'm there, too. You don't have to push trough everything all by yourself."
So that's why you've come, Austria thought. He didn't dare to say it because he was afraid he would start crying tears of emotion, and he didn't want to show Spain how vulnerable he really felt. His husband had turned out to be the best thing that had happened to him in a long time, but he was also the less composed person among the two of them. He didn't want to throw him off by starting to sob.
"You're a godsend," he told his husband solemnly as soon as he had brought his voice back under control. Spain avoided looking into his eyes with a sheepishness that was so adorable it made Austria smile.
"You were right though," Spain said, still looking away.
"Huh?" Austria took a step back, hands still on his spouse's shoulders. "What do you mean?"
"Fernando and me are planning to move on towards the Spanish Netherlands as soon as possible," his husband confided to him. "He is to become Governor-General there, and I have the feeling I should show my face there once again, too." Austria nodded.
"I'm sure Ferdinand would rather you stayed with us because Heaven knows we need your support, but I know you must not neglect your own lands." He smiled. "You're here now, and that's already more than I could have hoped for." He took his hands from Spain's shoulders only to grip his husband's hands and squeeze them firmly. "Thank you. You don't know how much your presence means to me."
"I think I do," replied Spain with a smirk. "Don't underestimate me."
"I don't." Austria smiled back at him. It was a tense but sincere smile. "But I hope our enemies will."
Notes:
They did indeed: Bernard of Saxe-Weimar underestimated the sheer weight of numbers of the Spanish forces drastically, by about 10,000 men. The Swedish also suffered from errors of judgment and some bad luck, and in the end—after two days of fighting—they took to flight. The Battle of Nördlingen in 1634 was one of the severest defeats of the Swedish/Protestant army, and the Swedes had to retreat northward in order to recuperate.
Consequently, this gave the Imperial/Bavarian/Catholic side time to make a treaty with Protestant princes—the Peace of Prague (30 May 1635). The chief Imperial negotiator was Ferdinand of Hungary who acknowledged he needed to make concessions to the Protestant side for the peace treaty to be successful. Actually, many terms of the Treaty of Prague anticipated terms negotiated for the Holy Roman Empire in the Treaties of Westphalia that ended the Thirty Years' War in 1648. However, it did not bring an end to fighting within the lands of the HRE because it did not incorporate Sweden—and Catholic France that joined the war on the side of the Protestant Swedes shortly after the Peace of Prague was made. In fact, the fourth phase of the Thirty Years' War (after the Peace of Prague) was the most gruesome one of the whole decades-long war.
