it seemed doubtful he would dispatch three lancers for such a purpose.
“They are your father’s Swiss guard,” I said. “I know not why they have come.”
Christian slipped into a corner of the room and looked up at the shadows over his head.
“I doubt it is no other reason than your mission,” he said. “Go and speak with them.”
“Aye, my lord.”
“And take these two with you.”
“My lord,” Cornelius said. “We think it best we remain here, at your service.”
“You do me no good service when you disobey me,” Christian said. “It is writ down in your duty, is it not, to leap or stand as I declare? Am I not crown prince of Denmark? Is not your king my own father?”
“Aye, my lord.”
“Then go with Soren. You are all honorable men. I will remain here. Go.”
We left the prince sitting on his pallet and walked out to meet the Swiss in the yard. It was becoming late in the afternoon. A few flakes fell here and there, but the storm was over. The sun shone through a break in the clouds behind Uraniborg and Tycho’s ruined manor cast a cold blue shadow over us. We stood shivering in the deep shade as the riders dismounted and walked toward us.
Two of the Swiss I did not know, but they wore captain’s insignia. The third man was General Bernardo. He stood half a head taller than his captains and a raised white scar ran from his right eyebrow down his cheek to disappear into the short beard he wore. I knew who Bernardo was, but he and I had never spoken together.
Cornelius and Voltemont wrapped themselves in their cloaks, stamped their feet and rubbed their arms for warmth. The Swiss captains swaggered up and stood close, their hands upon the hilts of their swords. They looked not at me but at my Danish assistants and at the building behind us. Bernardo came so near to me that my breath fogged his breastplate. I took a step back.
“How do you, master astrologer,” he said.
“Well, General Bernardo. I did not expect a visit from the chief of the king’s army.”
“Nay?” Bernardo’s voice was hard and nasal and I did not like the sound of it. “The prince runs to hide on Hven and you are surprised when his father sends men to come find him?”
“What do you mean, the prince hides on Hven?”
Bernardo took me by the arm, his fingers digging into my bicep. He pulled me toward him.
“Walk with me,” he said. He dragged me from the shadows out into the bright snowy field away from the house and hissed into my ear.
“I know Christian is within the house.”
“He is,” I said. “I thought it was no secret. So he told us, at least.” I repeated to Bernardo the tale Christian had given of his valor at Copenhagen and his subsequent visitation to the island. Bernardo gave out a short barking laugh, but he did not smile.
“That is an interesting report,” he said. “How much of it do you believe?”
“I am not certain of any of it.”
“Good, for the prince has told you many lies, astrologer. It is true that we met Jaaperson on the road north of Copenhagen, where our forces fell to it and there was blood enough for any brave man. A good day for all, but that young Christian panicked at the first clash of arms. He wheeled about on his horse and rode straight into a Danish knight—Sir Reynaldo, I think it was—and the prince was knocked from his mount. He lost helm, sword, and shield without once striking a blow against our enemies. Then he mounted up again and fled from the action, his angry father bellowing after. We let him ride, thinking he’d not go far. Many a young nobleman balks at his first taste of organized murder but then joins the fray like a man. I was not much alarmed until after we had killed Jaaperson and his men. The prince was not found anywhere on the field. We wasted half a day searching for him. Finally a report came to us that Christian had returned to Elsinore, commanding a boat to bring him to Hven.”
“I see. And come you now to bring him back to Kronberg?”
“Only if he is wounded or wishes to return. His father is mightily vexed.”
“And his mother?”
Bernardo shook his head.
“I know not. Why would I? The queen is a woman. She will be weak where her son is concerned and her