let me rise.”
“Then rise.”
Ulfeldt stood, unfolding himself slowly upward. He had lost his cap and a cold wind stirred his hair. His head, with its fringe of white, was like a dead bloom atop a dry stem in some abandoned garden. He coughed and spread his hands before the prince.
Ulfeldt had been born under the influence of the Sun. It is well known that more people die in summer than at any other time, and this is why we know that the Sun is the star that can produce both the greatest good and the greatest evil in things here below. A man naturally well influenced by the Sun wants to be a king, bailiff, judge, or public person, so he might do much good. And so a man under the Sun’s influence has an appetite for rising to positions of honor and power and he craves all the things that can speed his ascent. It is also true that a native of the Sun is worse in his evil than others. Just as goodness and warmth give a greater craving for the common good, the great heat of his desires will give him a larger appetite for evildoing than other men.
“My lord, I am an old man.”
“Would you like to go home, old man?”
“Aye, my lord.”
“Are you a christian?”
“You know I am, my lord.”
“Then Heaven is your home. You have my leave to go there, though I suspect you will find yourself in the other place.”
With that, the prince thrust the sword into Ulfeldt’s breast. Half the blade’s length passed through the old man’s shuddering body. Ulfeldt’s legs buckled and he toppled, slipping over the edge of the cliff. Christian stood alone, the sword bloody in his hand.
“Thou intruding fool,” he called over the cliff. “Farewell. You sought to abuse the ears of the kingdom, but I have stilled your tongue!”
“Christian,” I said, taking a few slow steps toward him. “What have you done?”
“Done? I know not.” He slid the bloody sword into its scabbard and kicked snow over the edge of the cliff. “It seems that Ulfeldt has fallen to his death, does it not?”
For a moment Christian and I looked unblinking into each other’s eyes. There was a noise behind us and I turned. Father Stepan and one of the Swiss soldiers had come into the cemetery.
“What news, my lord?” The Switzer looked around him, squinting in the glare off the snow. “Have you spoken with Lord Ulfeldt?”
“Aye,” Christian said. “Before the accident.”
“Accident, my lord?”
“Ulfeldt has fallen over the edge,” I said, and gestured to the spot where Christian had murdered the old man. “Not a minute ago it happened. I do not know if he is in the sea or has swum to the docks, but you should go rescue him.”
The Switzer hesitated a moment, his gaze shifting between my face and the prince’s.
“The king will be displeased if you let the lord chamberlain drown,” Christian said, and the soldier disappeared into the church. Father Stepan beckoned Christian away from the cliff and the two of them went into St. Ibb’s. I walked carefully out to the edge and looked over. At the base of the cliff Ulfeldt lay face down in the water, the waves battering his corpse against the rocks. I turned away and walked to the church. Father Stepan waited there for me, alone.
“My lord Christian bids you farewell,” he said.
“Farewell?”
“Aye. The Prince has gone to the wharf, to hire a boat which will take him home. He gives me a message for you.”
“What message?”
The priest leaned forward to whisper in my ear.
“The prince says that he would sooner trust a bawd to become a virgin than a Switzer to be a saint. Does this mean anything to you?”
“Only that the prince hath not yet learned to create good analogies, Father. Is there more?”
“Nothing more.”
I looked around the chapel. It was as dark and plain as ever.
“Father Maltar makes no concessions for Christmas,” I said.
“It is not his way. Will you come to Mass tomorrow?”
“Perhaps. For now I shall go to the wharf. Possibly the prince has not yet left the island.”
By the time I made it to the docks the Swiss had commandeered a rowboat and recovered Ulfeldt’s body. The old man was stretched out on the dock like a game fish, his eyes and mouth open. The chain of his office was missing, taken by the waves. One of Ulfeldt’s shoes was gone, and his nose was crushed. I knelt and