“It is time for us to be heroes,” he said, and like a mother walking a child he took my hand and led me up the hill, past the ruin where my father had died, to the top of the island again. We adjusted our cloaks, gloves, and hats and then marched through the snow toward the broken hulk of Uraniborg. Somewhere during this walk I remembered that it was Christmas Eve.
{ Chapter Seventeen }
THERE WERE TWO CHRISTIANS
COMING AROUND THE WEST SIDE OF URANIBORG TO THE front entrance, we were surprised to find two Swiss mercenaries waiting. They sat astride their horses, tall and silent, wrapped in wool, bearskin, and steel. A third horse, saddled but riderless, nosed at the snow a few yards behind them. Christian and I walked directly toward the Swiss. The men did not move at all. It seemed they had always been there, waiting with hands on hilts, ready to strike down an enemy. When we were close enough that I could have touched the horses had I dared, one of the Swiss stirred. He pushed his beaver open and looked down at us, his eyes black as his beard.
“My lord Christian,” he said. His voice had within it a note of insolence, even of command, as if the prince was expected to do this hired soldier’s bidding.
“You are one of Bernardo’s men?”
“We are all your father’s men. It is the king’s command I obey, and his message I bring. My lord, you are summoned presently to return to Kronberg. We have brought a horse that you might ride to the village, where our boat is moored at the docks. Your father commands you come with us.”
The man gave no sign that any of this was a request. Had Christian refused, I think the Swiss would have seized him, bound him like a hind, and thrown him over the back of the horse. Christian must have also sensed this, though he pretended otherwise.
“Your coming now is most convenient,” he said. “My business on Hven being finished, I had intended to hire a ship, but my father’s Switzers will do, since seemingly they have an old boat at their disposal. Have you brought me a decent horse, at least?”
“It is a brief ride to the village,” the soldier said. “But the mount we have brought could take you as far as Copenhagen in half a day.”
Christian looked at the riderless horse.
“Were you with us in Copenhagen?”
“Every Switzer in Denmark was witness to that battle.”
“What is your name?”
The Swiss smiled, a crooked split in his beard. He was missing most of his teeth.
“My name is Jochen.”
“I will remember your name,” Christian said. “Come, Soren. We ride for Tuna. You may see me off at the wharf. I will send someone back for you after you have gathered your notes and supplies.”
Christian climbed into the saddle of the third horse and pulled me up behind him. I wondered if Bernardo had given his men leave to disrespect the prince. I wondered how Christian’s declaration of a newfound leonine heart would hold up in the face of such rude behavior. For my part, I hoped the prince would send these Swiss packing back to Lucerne after I finished with the king. They were barbarians and had no place in a civilized Denmark. I put a hand against my doublet and felt the dagger I carried.
The ride to the village was silent and uneventful, though another surprise awaited us in Tuna.
“Lord Ulfeldt would speak with you now, in the church.” The Swiss smiled again.
“Ulfeldt? He is here?”
“The king sent him along. He took up little enough space on the boat, though he abused our ears with his metaphysics the whole voyage. You are commanded to confer with him ere we embark for Kronberg.”
“I will not speak to him.”
“The king commands it.”
“The king sends Ulfeldt as his tongue?”
“Aye.”
“Then I will send to Ulfeldt my ears. Soren, go see what the tedious old fool wants and bring me back any interesting words. You may tell him to come down to the docks and join me aboard ship.”
I was happy to do this duty, for I had been outside all morning and was chilled to the marrow. Even such odious company as Ulfeldt and Father Maltar would seem pleasant if I could sit by the warmth of a fire. I dismounted Christian’s horse and went into St. Ibb’s.
The church smelled of incense, coal smoke, and herring. The priests were nowhere to be seen.