Philip was the emperor of half of the world. Of course he was going to be applauded for any tiny thing he did and everyone around him would make things as easy to him as they could. But that stag was Spain's. With a well-aimed shot, he killed the animal and claimed it.
Phillip stopped his horse next to the prize and chuckled enthusiastically.
"That was incredible, my friend! At such long distance!"
"Eh, it was nothing." Spain smirked, calculating how much his catch weighted and thinking of how well its head would look mounted on the wall back in palace.
"...I like you when you are like this." Phillip suddenly said, smiling at him, tilting his head.
"Like what?" The nation turned his head to his king.
"Relaxed. Enjoying life. You really needed this. My father—God rest his soul—kept you inside a tomb, always wearing black, locked inside that monastery with the relics all day long...That does not suit your merry character."
Phillip the Third was definitely different from his father. It was true that the Second was incredibly sober, mystical, resulting sinister to some—but there were things Spain could talk about with him. He was concerned about his duties. This Phillip, on the other hand...
"Yes, yes, of course, but you've got to agree with me that with everything going on I can't be jumping with glee...Holland, England and France seem to have joined to make my life a living hell. I am thinking that we should send someone to-"
"Oh, please, Spain, we were having a beautiful morning! Don't ruin it with such unpleasant matters..." Phillip protested. "Always fighting, always struggling against the whole world...You need to allow yourself to have a rest. You deserve it...I deserve it too."
He did?
Phillip had been brought up in very difficult situations, Spain knew. He lost his mother when he was just two, and he grew up away from the rest of the children, under the care of so many strict preceptors who prepared him for the duties of the crown and awoke in him artistic and cultural inclinations. But, unfortunately, being cultured was not virtue if you don't know much about war and other ugly but necessary matters. His father tried to teach him how to do things, take care of their nation. But, like Austria had told him confidentially in some occasion, there was a reason why they didn't inbreed horses. Son of Phillip and his niece, Phillip the Third had had numerous health problems, was weak of the mind and the body. He could hunt animals but he wouldn't survive in the battlefield. He didn't even know about the art of war.
That was why his king's next words didn't take him much by surprise.
"That is why I've made a decision. From now on, the Duke of Lerma is going to take care of the tedious work of administrating your matters, so we have the chance to live our lives."
The smile faded a bit in Spain's face.
"...But...really?...I mean, are you completely sure about it?" Spain asked.
"You have been going through a hard time, after my father's depart..."
"Yes...I...Well..."
"I know. I think he put too much weight on his shoulders. And yours. His health ended up paying the price and you, you cannot die so easily, sickness is nothing to you, but your head...that's another thing. And if the head is not working properly, nothing else does. We want you to be healthy and happy. We need you. That's why I want to save you as much trouble as I can."
"I am so thankful you did this thinking of me, but..."
"You can trust the Duke. He has my full confidence. He will do a great job."
Spain didn't know what to say. His father, Phillip II, would have never left such important matters in hands that were not his own or Spain's, in the hands of someone who didn't have blue blood. Influenced by the kings and queens of the past, he simply did not trust the nobility. But Philip III was right: he had been too implied in political matters and he had not enjoyed life in so long. Spain himself had forgotten what it was like, to have a good time. Yes, his new king was right. He had to relax.
He could not afford war anyway...
1601
One of the first measures Francisco de Sandoval y Rojas, Duke of Lerma, took—after removing all of the previous ministers—was to move the court to Valladolid. He had convinced Spain with his arguments: Madrid had become the place everyone moved to looking for a prosperous future. Since there was no money for anyone, the streets were filled with beggars. Not very salubrious streets, by the way.
The move of the institutions and the members of the court was very expensive, but if it was for the best, Spain guessed there was no choice but to assume it.
It would take him a bit to get used to a new palace, a new city, but Spain knew nothing was eternal; he had never stayed many centuries in one place.
The first place he determined to get to know was the taverns, and off he went, until someone got in his way.
"Your Greatness..." Queen Margaret of Austria approached. Her womb was swollen with Phillip's first child.
"Your Majesty." Spain gave her a nod.
"I would like to talk to you in private, Your Greatness..."
"Of course."
It seemed that corridor was not private enough for her, so the Queen pushed him to her own chambers.
"Your Greatness...I want to ask you something and I want you to be sincere to me..."
"I would never lie to you."
"...How much do you trust the Duke?"
Spain needed a few seconds to arrange his thoughts.
Enough to give him 50,000 ducats after he gave him the good news of a silver shipment from America...And the royal stamp...
"I think he is a very capable man, Your Majesty?"
"Do you think so?"
"Yes. He works very hard to relieve your husband from such a big burden and is being very helpful to me...Why are you asking?"
Queen Margaret narrowed her eyes and looked away. She did not reply to his question and said instead:
"Spain...Some people...act like they are your friends but they are only thinking about themselves...Please have a good judgement and be careful..."
Spain did not need anyone to tell him about treason but was surprised to hear that from his queen. She left immediately and left the nation wondering what she was talking about.
Margaret was a very smart woman; had she been a man, she would have been fabulous. Perhaps that was why Philip had fallen so much in love with his cousin since the very first moment they met at the altar. He listened to everything she said and gave it credit.
Precisely, the Duke had warned him about the pernicious influence she could have on their king...
1604
"...This is becoming exhausting. I do not want to fight you, really. I am sure we could build a very solid relationship if both of us looked beyond our noses and tried..."
England paused and was about to ask Spain if the hedges and rosebuds of his garden were distracting him when his guest spoke.
"For something like that to happen..." He said, "you would have to stop stealing my merchandise and frightening my little siblings."
"Maybe. If you stop trying to convert me into Catholicism."
"Maybe."
England and him kept walking. That weather was so sad, Spain thought. England had suggested to take a walk around his vast garden while their superiors discussed and signed papers, arguing the weather was very good outside, but if that was his idea of good weather, Spain truly pitied him. No wonder he was so bitter all the time.
"And if you stop helping Holland." Spain added.
"I have no interest in helping Holland anymore" England said. "It was Elizabeth's idea—rest her soul. Now that she is gone and Jacob is in charge, he considers we should leave you two resolve your...conflict alone."
"And I am thankful for that...Tell me, how's little America?"
England turned his head to Spain, quite surprised at that sudden change of subject.
"I've heard you're taking care of him, am I right?" Spain asked.
England did not reply immediately. "Well, yes...He's fine."
"Congratulations on your new little brother. He's a really delightful child."
England drew a smile.
"More than a little brother, he has become a son to me so quickly...He's so innocent and playful...Children are such amazing creatures..."
He got quiet right after that, and Spain had the feeling that he thought he had opened his heart too much.
"Indeed." Spain nodded. "Do you allow me a piece of advice, from someone who's surrounded by children?"
"Sure. We are friends from now on, remember?"
"Take care of your little siblings but if you've got to use the paddle against them to keep them away from danger, do it. It is better that they cry than seeing them take the wrong path."
England kept smiling after those words were uttered.
"Well, it sure worked for you..." He muttered. And it was his turn to change the subject abruptly. "Out of curiosity, how do you call that tree over there in Spanish?"
1606
And, again, the Court moved again. Back to Madrid.
"Why this change of heart, My Lord?" Spain asked the Duke.
The Duke shrugged.
"Orders from the King." He simply said.
Spain did not discuss it further. Phillip loved to party and enjoy life. This was probably one whim of his. It was a pity, now that he had gotten used to Valladolid and had made friends in there. And he didn't have much money to waste on so many moves. But he had to go where his king was.
One night, while Spain was playing with the children, Margaret ordered the nurses to leave them alone.
"Is something wrong?"
The queen seemed upset.
"I have already told your spouses. You need to know. I am carrying out an investigation on the Duke."
"Did he do something wrong?" Spain asked.
"These moves, in so little time...I have been inquiring, observing him...I have a suspicion..."
"What? What is it?"
"He had numerous lands back in Valladolid. When the Court moved, he sold them for a good price. Without the Court, Madrid decayed, land became cheaper. He bought a good mass of it. And now..."
Spain did not understand at first, but after some moments, something inside his brain clicked. He gazed at the Queen.
"He's been stealing from you, Spain...He knows what to say to earn money...I told you he was not to be trusted..."
"...Should we tell Phillip?"
"I have already told him, but he trusts him nevertheless. I need solid proof to convince him. Don't tell him I told you this. Act like nothing happened. But please, don't let him keep making a fool of you."
It happened again...Someone he trusted so much...Again that stabbing pain...
1609
Three days. That was all time the Moriscos had to pack everything they could take with them and leave the country. Only the children younger than four were allowed to stay, with the permission of their parents. Spain supervised the departure of those thousands of people at Denia's port. Men and women of all ages, getting into those ships, going who knew where, with barely anything to keep, everything they had worked so hard for left behind to be claimed by Spain's authorities, sold unfairly...
Noticing the frown in his face, the Duke of Lerma smiled at Spain.
"It was a good decision, Your Greatness. You have been very wise."
"...Sure..."
What harm could families do to him?
So, so much. The Ottoman did not surrender, still tried to find a way to take over Europe. Those descendants of the first Moors, surely driven by greed and an ancestral vengeance, could help him any time. It was better to get rid of the threat before they had to regret...Take care of those who had not been contaminated yet and educate them...
They were not his people, Spain repeated to himself again and again. They were not old Christians. They were something foreign, something that did not belong in there, that no one liked...
"Our job is here. Come on. Holland awaits us."
Spain sighed and nodded. During their long journey to the Flemish territory, his thoughts would be devoted to his unruly brother, but his dreams were starred by those thousands of people who turned their eyes to him with sadness, with fear...
Everything, everyone, was forgotten when he got to see Holland face to face again.
"Since Queen Elizabeth is dead, there is no reason for us to keep fighting. That lady will bother you no more. You have my permission to trade in America and Europe for twelve years if you like."
Holland stared at him in such a way Spain started to think he was wearing a mask.
"Do you really think all of those who go against you are being manipulated by someone else? That they are not acting of their own accord?" He finally asked.
"I always treated you well, Holland." Spain replied, trying to ignore that.
"Is that what you tell to yourself to sleep better at night?"
"I really wish we could have managed this in a different way. This pact is my way to tell you I still care for you."
"I suppose I have to be thankful for such generosity..." Holland expelled the smoke from his pipe.
"I just think you need some time to consider..."
"There is nothing to consider. I made my choice. I will not be your subject any longer."
"You were never my subject, but part of my family. A brother, I'd dare to say."
"True. You call everyone brother or sister. Brother, then. I won't be your brother any longer...Brother."
"Am I being such a monster, Holland?"
Holland didn't reply immediately. His light green eyes stared at him coldly, but Spain didn't hold his stare. His were looking at the bandages in his neck.
"I will tell you just one thing." Holland finally said. "Many people have had enough of you already. If I were you, I wouldn't turn my back on anyone. Anyone at all. You might find a knife in there."
1615
"Please, Spain, don't be rude. We are here to mend fences."
Spain really did not want to take orders from the Duke, but he had no choice. He was a thief, a scammer. But Phillip still trusted him. Now that a disease had taken Margerite out of the way, the Duke was his only influence. There was no one to stop him. There was nothing Spain could do but nod.
"Yes...My apologies..."
He really tried to put a friendly face, but the one who once was a friend had become someone he really didn't want to see. He had suffered his venomous bite too many times those last centuries. He had proven he was unworthy of his trust. He couldn't believe what he was about to do but he guessed the Duke and France's Queen, Marie de' Medici, were right. Little Louis was just a little boy who was surrounded by enemies; the Huguenotes were lurking like vultures around a calf. If Spain proclaimed himself to be the bastion of Christianity, he had to be there to defend his neighbors from heretics like those. He had to make as many friends as he could. The Queen had promised to marry her children to Phillip's to make this alliance more solid.
"His Excellency the Duke of Lerma and His Greatness Imperio Español." They were introduced.
Queen Marie stood up from her throne and opened her arms.
"Gentlemen...I hope you had a good journey."
"Thank you, your Majesty. We did." The Duke bowed to her and kissed her ring.
Spain was not subject to such protocols, being in a higher rank, so he just bowed his head respectfully. When he raised his head, he found a familiar man approaching him, his hair much longer than he remembered, with curls, and colorfully dressed. France smiled at him and bowed his head too.
"Welcome, my friend."
"Friend..." Spain replied with a cold expression but discreetly, not to upset the queen of France. "You are going a little too fast, calling me a friend. This is just me doing another Catholic a favor. There are a lot of things I have not forgotten about."
"Yes, I haven't forgotten about our last encounter, either...But we are in the same boat and we should be on good terms. The way it used to be back when we were just provinces, remember?"
"I remember. Before you started spitting poison and trying to steal what was rightfully mine."
France chuckled.
"Did I say something funny and I didn't notice?" Spain frowned.
"Well, that thing you said, about things that are rightfully yours...It is debatable. But we have a lot of time to debate about it. Now you should just rest from your journey. We will hold a feast in your honor soon."
"Hm."
France sighed and played with one of his golden curls.
"Look. I am sorry I hurt you. You also hurt me, to be fair. But it was all a misunderstanding, you know. Our monarchs having different interests...I've known you since we were children. You are like a brother to me. It makes me so happy that we finally have the chance to forget our quarrels and go back to those times when we acted as such...What do you say? Do you forgive me?"
France offered him a gloved hand, which Spain hesitated to shake, until he turned his head to the Duke, saw him giving him an insistent look, and thought...well...perhaps this was the beginning of a new era after all.
France placed both hands on his hands and shook them with a grin.
"Mon cher Espagne...This is the beginning of something great, I can feel it."
Funny Spain didn't feel that way...
It was finally there! Spain had waited this for so long! Being the nation had its privileges, and he was happier than ever to be the nation because he was the first to lay a hand on the first printing of the second part of The Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote of La Mancha. He loved the first part and was terribly disappointed with the sequel some guy called Avellaneda had published without permission, so out of character and lacking the talent of the real author.
He sat by the fire to practically devour the pages. He laughed with Sancho presenting a brute peasant as his master's beloved Dulcinea, the adventure of the lions, the attack on the puppets he took for enemies, Sancho being named governor of the fictional Baratalia, the Duke and Duchess' tricks...
Oh, but it had to end really bad. Defeated, forced to go back home, back to his senses at the gates of death, Don Quixote rejected chivalry...
«"Ah," responded Sancho in tears, "don't die, señor mío, but take my advice and live many years, because the craziest thing a man can do is to let himself die just like that, without anyone killing him, nor any other hands finishing him off except those of melancholy. Look, don't be lazy—get out of bed, and let's go into the countryside dressed as shepherds, as we agreed. Maybe behind some bush we'll find the lady Dulcinea, disenchanted as nice as can be. If you're dying because of the grief of seeing yourself vanquished, let me take the blame, saying that because I didn't tighten Rocinante's saddle right you were knocked over. Moreover, your grace probably saw in your books of chivalry that knights are always overcoming others, and he who is defeated today is a victor tomorrow."
"That's true." said Sansón, "the good Sancho Panza is quite right in this matter."
"Señores," said don Quixote, "not so fast, because «in the nests of yesteryear there are no birds this year». I was crazy, and now I'm sane, I was don Quixote de La Mancha, and now I'm Alonso Quixano, the Good. May my repentance and truth restore me to the esteem in which I used to be held.»
Not much followed. Spain closed the book and thought that he had liked the story, but he could have changed the ending...It was to grim...It left him a bad taste...
1618
Things were not going well for Austria and Holy Roman Empire. There was trouble at home. Something about some servants of the king of Austria who had been defenestrated. The matter was that the people responsible, Protestants, designed their own king, and King Ferdinand II requested Spain's help. So there he went.
"Do you really want to get rid of it? It looks good on you. It makes you look bello like a Raphael painting."
Veneciano, as part of the Habsburg family, came with them. He had offered himself to shave Spain. The truth was Spain wanted to spend some time with him, after having neglected him for so long...
"Yes, I am sure. Argentina says it tickles too much. And I want to give her and my children lots of kisses."
Veneciano smiled and giggled.
"America must be a pretty place..." Veneciano muttered.
"Oh, you can't even imagine...Maybe I'll take you and Romano there one of these days..."
As Veneciano turned around to prepare everything necessary, Spain had time to think.
"...How is he?" He asked in low voice.
"Romano? Oh, he's alright." Veneciano replied with a smile.
"He still doesn't..."
"...He won't be angry at you forever, Spain."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Oh, good. Because...because I feel like I've lost him, because...between you and I...I have been acting like a fool...I have been treating my people like dirt. Portugal, Austria, both of you...Belgium and Luxembourg were loyal to me even though Holland declared war on me, and how did I pay them?"
"We all have bad times, come on."
"...Yes, I guess so...But it doesn't feel good, Veneciano, knowing I have done bad things to people who had no fault...I thought that would do them good...Cruel to be kind...But..."
Veneciano finally coated Spain's facial hair with foam and started using the razor with movements which seemed like a ballerina's, delicate and careful.
"There is also one reason why I want my face to be as smooth as possible" Spain admitted, and he smiled. "Women."
Veneciano grinned.
"Oh, sí, German ladies do have something, right?"
"You said it, little brother. But the Spanish are not that bad, either." Spain grinned.
"And the Italian, of course."
"Of course. The ragazzas..."
"The mujercitas..."
"Ah!"
Spain closed his eyes, picturing a fine example of a Mediterranean lady, with her curves, her wide hips, her mischievous eyes.
But he could feel the blade not in his cheek but his throat.
He jumped from the chair and pushed Veneciano away from him.
"What-?!" He exclaimed, but Veneciano still had the razor in his hand and charged. Spain got to grab the chair and use it to keep Veneciano away from him.
"You?! Why you, Veneciano?! Why you?!"
"I know what you are trying to do!" Veneciano did not want this, evidently. His moves were hesitant. He knew who he was facing. But the look on his face showed he was not joking. "You hired those mercenaries! Your Duke, Osuna! You want to create an excuse to invade me and put me under your control!"
"What?!" Spain exclaimed, wide-eyed.
"You...I am tired of you using me! I am not your little brother! You don't care about me! You don't care about anyone but yourself!"
He tried to attack him again, pouncing on him. He got to make a cut in Spain's hand.
He could have defended himself using all means necessary but it was Veneciano, he couldn't...He didn't want to do something he would regret, like when he slapped Romano for that stupid paper...
"You have been conspiring to make me disappear, now that I am growing up too much for your interests!" Veneciano said, trying to find the proper spot to attack from.
"Who told you that?! It's not true!" Spain replied.
"How can I believe you?! You lied to the Indians to steal everything from them! You have been lying to everyone all the time!"
"HELP! HEEELP!"
His soldiers ran in and reduced Veneciano, who wouldn't stop struggling. Spain wiped the foam off his face and quickly met the captain.
"Sir?"
"I want to talk to Osuna! NOW!"
"Yes, sir!"
The Duke of Osuna had a long, black mustache that he touched in front of Spain not nervously, but almost proudly.
"...Why did you do that?" Spain asked him.
"...Those accusations are false, Your Greatness." The Duke replied.
"I've got declarations that you and your helper Francisco de Quevedo set all of this up. In order to make Veneciano nervous and for you to attack in my name..."
"Do you really think Veneciano is an innocent cherub? Don't you see this is just an act to have an excuse to get rid of our control? He has been approaching the Turk! What else does he have to do to-?"
"Why?" Spain interrupted him, louder. "I order you to tell me. The Duke of Lerma saved his skin because he is now a cardinal, but I am not afraid to hang you. I will do it myself if I need to."
The Duke stared at him for long without replying. Finally, after a good while, he took deep air.
"I did not do if...But if I did...It is not peace what you need, Your Greatness...Don't you see they are all taking advantage of you? They are just waiting for the moment to pounce on you and harm you...You have to teach them..."
"I almost lose a friend!" Spain replied, standing up. "I am very lucky he accepted that the blame was entirely yours and not mine! I don't want to lose my friend's trust! Without him, we would be defenseless against the Ottoman!"
Spain grunted, turning his back on him, to look through the window.
I was crazy, and now I'm sane
"...I don't want to keep fighting...Not if it costs me the love of my friends..." Spain added in a whisper.
He made sure the Duke of Osuna died in jail. Now that that Veneciano was sure that man would not control him anymore, he could breathe in peace and he was cordial to Spain again.