considered that perhaps he had died. It would have simplified my morning immensely. At last he turned his face to me.
“You will not use my cart, nor my oxen, nor my driver, Soren. You may light a taper at the altar to St. Ibb before you go.”
“I come at the king’s bidding. You cannot refuse me.”
“I do refuse. There is no man on Hven who will raise a finger to help you. We were afflicted with Brahe for twenty years, boy. You stink of his poisonous breath and we despise you. Go to your observatory and see if there are toys you desire among the fallen walls, but ask none of us to aid you. We spit upon whatever you do. Speak to us no more.”
Maltar turned away and closed his eyes.
“You cannot refuse me.”
The old priest refused to answer and perhaps he did sleep then. The other priest, a man younger than me, stood and took my arm.
“Leave us, sir. Father Maltar has answered you.”
“I do the king’s bidding,” I said, shaking my arm loose from the priest’s grip. “The king’s bidding, do you hear?”
“We do the Lord’s bidding.” The priest smiled. “You may share our noon meal if you like, in an hour or so. And you are welcome to worship here. But more than that we will not do.”
I looked from the young priest to Maltar, from Maltar to the boy who sat attentive to the conversation, and then I looked up at Cornelius and Voltemont, who were lounging on a pew, their hats over their faces. I am not one who has often commanded men. I never gained the manner of ordering others about and had hoped that invoking the king’s imprimatur on our task would suffice to make Hven’s peasants do my bidding. But Father Maltar was implacable and I saw that no help would come from him or his church.
The wind had picked up and I heard it whistling outside, buffeting against the doors and shuttered windows of St. Ibb’s. If the road from Tuna was clear, we might manage the walk, but it would be very cold and I doubted that my assistants could drag our trunks a mile over hills and snow banks.
“I have money,” I said to the young priest. “I will hire a villager to cart us.”
“None will take your money. Everything that emerges from the shadow of Brahe is tainted.”
“This island has emerged from the shadow of Brahe,” I said. “He did truly eclipse all other men.” My voice rose in pitch and volume. When I am vexed I sound much like an old woman. I cried out to Cornelius and Voltemont, took my trunks up, and stormed out of the church. The wind blew waves of ice crystals over the island, which stung the skin of my face. In vexation I stamped a foot and turned about twice, hoping to think up a solution. My assistants dragged the large trunks out into the snow and sat on them. They pulled their cloaks tight and favored me with a pair of scowls.
“We will walk to Uraniborg,” I said. “There will be a cart for us and we will push it back here and retrieve our supplies. To your feet, both of you.”
Neither man moved.
“Why will there be a cart?” Voltemont asked.
“Come,” I said. “It is not far. A little over a mile. Two thousand paces. It is nothing.”
Cornelius stood, shook his head, and walked back into the church. Voltemont followed a moment later. I stood shivering there in the path between the church and the village, my bags in my hands, waiting for my assistants to come out of St. Ibb’s and join me. The wind slackened, dropping to a whisper, and then it began to snow.
The devil take them, then. I turned and walked south, past Tuna’s huts and down a slight hill. The road had not been recently cleared and soon I was kicking my way through snow a foot deep. The devil take Cornelius and Voltemont. I would send them back to Marcellus for a whipping. I would move the supply trunks on my own somehow. I cared nothing for the king’s project in any case. My intention was to see what of Tycho’s work I could salvage and use for myself when Christian son of Rorik was dead. Cornelius and Voltemont would be of no use in that wise. The devil take them.
I had gone only half a mile or so when they overtook me.