would know of it and reward your heroism.”
I said nothing.
“Do not frown so,” Kirsten said. “You feel that your reward has been small-mindedness and punishment, but my husband’s behavior to you is your own doing. You have ever been an opinionated little scholar. I admire that in one who tutors my son, but it was inevitable that your opinions should get you into distress.”
“My book is not so troublesome as Lord Ulfeldt paints it. If the king had but read it—”
“Oh, your book, your book. Enough on your book. As I said at table, Prince Frederik interests himself with the very debates you introduce, and I shall see to it that a copy of your manuscript finds its way to him. You know how Frederik admires learning and new ideas.”
“Aye, lady. He is a friend to philosophy.”
“He was also a friend to your late master.” Kirsten gave me an odd half smile and leaned forward, into the breeze at the window. The blowing snow dusted the front of her wide fur hat with a smear of white. “Frederik did not share my husband’s poor opinion of Tycho and will do whatever he can to keep that great man’s instruments—and his legacy—within Denmark. I think such would please you?”
“My queen, such would earn my deepest gratitude.”
“I would be happy to have your gratitude. Especially if my kindness repays a kindness of your own.”
“My lady, what gift have I to offer a queen? I am but your servant.”
“You are my husband’s servant.”
“Aye, lady. And yours, and Prince Christian’s.”
Kirsten backed away from the window, her face red from the cold.
“Christian is my only child. You may well value him as a friend and the future king of Denmark, but I hold him in greater esteem than that, as my son.”
“I do not doubt it, Majesty.”
“Christian is your friend?”
“I have no friend greater. I would refuse him nothing.”
“And of me, his mother? What would you refuse me, were I to ask you to act out of your love for Christian?”
“I confess that your meaning escapes me.”
Kirsten sighed again and closed her eyes a moment. My failure to understand her hints did seem to frustrate her.
“You are this night casting horoscopes for the upcoming battle against Baron Jaaperson, are you not?”
“Aye, lady.”
“The king hopes for a happy alignment of the heavens.”
“Of course.”
“And he will receive such happy news.”
“Of course.”
“I merely ask that you cast my son’s chart very ill, so that the king will not bring him into the battle. You have such subtlety of craft, I assume.”
“Does my lady think that the king will be dissuaded by scribbles on a few sheets of parchment? He will only ignore my prognostications should they displease him.”
In truth, the prince’s horoscope confused me and I did not like anything I had seen in my tables and calculations earlier. I said none of this to Kirsten. She made a fist and beat it against the window sill, once, and then opened her hand. Kirsten wore fine gloves of white kidskin, with small crosses of rubies inset on the backs.
“Then you must give my husband an ill horoscope. He values his own life, and he values your advice.”
“He values that I know what advice he wishes me to give, Majesty. Should I defy his imagination in this he will only cut off my head and find another astrologer. I am yet young, and I hope to grow to a very old age, my lady.”
The wind kicked against the side of the tower and threw snow up into our faces. Kirsten and I pulled our furs more tightly about ourselves. She was silent a moment and turned her face away. When she again looked at me her face was wet, but I could not tell if she wept or was merely damp from the snow melting off her hat. The queen moved close and lowered her voice to a whisper.
“My son risks his life tomorrow or the next day over the precious politics men play at. I much do enjoy having Prince Christian with me in Copenhagen during these holidays, but I like it not at all that my husband drags him off to war, collecting rents for demanding noblemen while he pretends that Jaaperson is some great threat to the crown. The king may play with death all he likes, but I do not desire my son to partake in this game.”
“My lady, is this not the role of a prince, to follow his father into war?”
“Do not mouth