The Astrologer - By Scott G.F. Bailey Page 0,15

our kingdom together. There roam across our Denmark murderers who would usurp us, who would put poison in our ears, serpents in our bed, a knife in our back. Spies and assassins, my lords, afoot on my Denmark!”

I held my breath. Who did he mean?

“Therefore let all know our plans,” the king said, drawing his dagger and holding it out before him over the table, as if he were displaying a holy relic. “For now we have moved our royal capitol to Elsinore, and our court here, to Kronberg. The queen and her attendants have been sent for, and we shall stay in this remote fortress until the scourge of Gustavus’s unlucky rebellion has been cleansed from our soil. We know that agents of this treason are even now in Copenhagen, so none allied to us is safe there. All of you here shall remain with us in Kronberg during this temporary state of war.”

The king spoke on for some time longer, fueled by wine, the heat of his anger, and the pleasure a monarch always has at the noise he makes among men who will not disagree with him. King Christian spoke of Denmark’s purity, her simplicity and simple faith, the trust he himself placed in Denmark’s traditions, in the Church and in God. I confess that toward the end of his speech I scarce listened. The king would keep me prisoner with him while he hid away in Kronberg. Well, he could die here as easily as he could die in Copenhagen.

The king sheathed his dagger and lifted his goblet. His voice echoed through the hall.

“Look around you, lads. Get used to your new home in this time of crisis. From here we shall sweep across our land and purify her. To Denmark!”

We scrambled to our feet and joined him, drinking the health of the nation.

“Enough of this feasting. There is much to be done now. Bernardo and Ulfeldt, come with us. Good night, the rest of you, my lords and gentlemen.”

We bowed as the king turned and swaggered from the hall, his Swiss general and Ulfeldt at his heels. Some of the remaining men took their seats and called for more wine or picked at half-eaten dishes of meat. Others drifted out to discover their chambers or talk privately by twos or threes. Torstensson took my elbow.

“Come,” he said.

It was cold outside and we pulled our furs close about our heads. My fingers and toes began turning to ice the moment we were out of the castle. I complained of it as I followed Torstensson up the stone steps to the platform along the battlement.

“Peace, Soren. Do you want to wear my gloves as well as your own?”

“Nay”

“Then accept that it is cold. Look you, here is Elsinore.”

We had got to the top of the rampart on the western side of the castle. Below us, beyond the moat and past a field that had been cleared of trees during my childhood, was the town where I had been born. Raised in the shadow of Kronberg, I had seen the fort thousands of times in all seasons, lights, and weather, but I had never stood on the castle walls and looked down upon Elsinore. Despite myself I thought it a fine view: the houses, mercantiles and offices gathered behind the walls in neat rows along the harbor, the spire of the basilica rising at the northeast corner of the town, Lake Elsinore and the wilderness beyond, where thick stands of trees encircled the city walls and protected the inhabitants against intellectual and philosophical advances. A few lights shone in windows, and in the harbor the furled sails of ships glowed ghostly white. It was quite a lovely scene, as Torstensson had promised. Though I could well enough see the neighborhood, I could not make out my father’s house from so far in the night.

“Fritz,” I said. “Do you know what a telescope is?”

“Some Greek potion?”

“Nay, it is an optical device that allows a man to see far into the distance. They are a Dutch invention, though doubtless a Dane could build a better one.”

“You would look at your stars with one?”

“Nay, the stars are finite in number and seen well enough on a clear night. I should look at the planets instead. They are closer than the stars, larger, and certainly they would prove of more interest to the investigating eye. Ah, to gaze clearly upon the features of the moon!”

“I should rather see the faces on coins,

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