it been since you were in Elsinore?”
“Eight years, my lord.”
“Eight years.” Christian peered at my face and I looked away. “Eight years, during which you were half a day’s travel from him.”
“I was busy on Brahe’s island, my lord. There was no time to come to Elsinore. Nor have I the time now. I will return to Copenhagen tomorrow, by the king’s leave.”
Christian again studied my expression. I tried to form my face into a mask of indifference; I did not wish to discuss my father.
“The king will not give you his leave,” Christian said. “He wishes you to remain with him.”
“He can surely let a week pass without a new horoscope, my lord.”
“’Tis not that. He hath an especial employment for you.”
“Indeed? I would hear of it, then.”
“Then you will, but not from me.” Christian smiled and put his arm about my shoulders. A wave fell into the ship’s side, sending a fountain of spray over the deck rail, soaking our fur cloaks. “You must allow my father to speak to you himself regarding your excellent new task, but I believe you will be pleased. There is no man in Denmark—or even the world— more fit for this duty than is Soren Andersmann.”
“My lord, your habit of withholding facts after pricking my interest is most vexing. It is highly irritating.”
“You must be patient, my friend. But be not alarmed. You will enjoy the work, and it is so important that during this employment you shall be free of your duties as court astrologer.”
“Am I to lose my appointment?” I broke free of Christian’s arm and took a step away from him. “My lord, if this is some misdirection, some plot to remove me from court while your father interviews men with none of my past associations, I demand that you be even and direct with me about it.”
“Soren, you speak quite out of turn!” The prince closed the distance between us and took my hand. “I tell you my father knows you are his man. You must take me at my word. This task will surely increase your esteem. But I will not reveal the details. I leave that pleasure to the king.”
“Very well. I shall await his Majesty’s pleasure.”
Christian shook my arm playfully.
“Do not be petulant. You have quite the fiery tongue when you are anxious to think yourself injured, but mark me: you are in no danger of losing your appointment. The king is most impressed with the horoscope you cast for his confrontation with Gustavus.”
The prince referred to that horoscope filled with optimistic lies which I had drawn up and presented to his father on the morning our war party set out from Copenhagen. Abundant signs of victory and good fortune were clear to any with eyes to see, I claimed. Perverting science for political reasons galled me, but I sided with the angels. Perhaps the charlatans who sell only horoscopes that please their clients also feel they are doing a higher service, but I do doubt it.
“I am always happy to please the king,” I said.
“He may not always be pleased with you.”
“What do you mean? Did you not a moment ago say that I had impressed the king?”
“I mean your book. I believe it will not impress my father. You must not mention it to him at all, especially now that he is preparing to reward you.”
I had written a short volume called Nunc Scio Mysterium, in which I contrasted the weaknesses of received wisdom with the strengths of observable data, and predicted a time to come when inquiry would trump folklore and tradition. Writing not for my fellow men of science but for all men with any learning, I showed the future as a bold vista and revealed the past for the storeroom of broken ideas that it is. Rationality shone on every page of my little tome, and I was justly proud of it. The book had not been published yet, but I circulated the manuscript among some of my educated friends, including Prince Christian.
“There is nothing in my work to distemper the king,” I said.
“In some readings, it challenges everything that stands.” Christian leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Lord Ulfeldt hath seen it, you know. He intimates that he wishes a word in your ear about it.”
“Against it?”
“Very like. Ulfeldt says you challenge the rights of kings.”
“Ulfeldt misreads me.”
“Then so do I.”
I looked out over the water, at the northern coast of Zealand. The Odin was bound for the eastern