man said. “I do know how the soul lends the tongue poetry when the imagination burns. But these blazes of imagination give more light than heat and we must not take them for fire. This book implores unholy suits, whispering like a sanctified and pious bawd, the better to beguile.”
“Nay, my lord—”
“I would not, in plain terms, have any man go slandering a moment of leisure as to read it.”
Ulfeldt shook his head, wrinkling his long nose as if some foulness had entered the cabin. He reached beside him to where bundles of documents were stacked on the floor, and after a moment lifted up the very copy of Nunc Scio Mysterium that I had lent to Christian. He placed it on the table before him, untied the ribbon, and leafed through the pages as he talked.
“It is an ill book,” he said. “I am glad that Prince Christian bethought himself to bring it to me that I might know of it before you attempt publication.”
I looked at Christian. He looked away, at the tossing sea through the window. I had assumed Ulfeldt knew about my book only because he spied upon everything and everyone at court. It never occurred to me that Christian had carried my pages to Ulfeldt. The prince had been given a copy only to read in confidence, as a friend.
“My book is ever respectful of the king,” I said. “It sings the praises of natural philosophy and is thus a hymn to God Himself.”
Ulfeldt leaned forward, his white beard jutting out. He raised a pale hand and pointed a finger at my chest.
“Your imagination seeks not the truth of nature, and thus not the truth of God. You would have us reimagine God, young man. God is not to be imagined; God is, and He is as He is. You cannot demand that we change God to allow your philosophy.”
I reached over to take the manuscript and Ulfeldt slapped the back of my hand, an old governess with a misbehaving child. I pulled back from him.
“My lord—”
“Enough on this. My apologies to you, my prince, as well. But I cannot discuss the work, especially as the seas are pitching more violently now. The king is not pleased to think of what Soren hath written.” Ulfeldt hefted the manuscript and shook his head. Again I reached to take it but, moving quickly as a cat, Ulfeldt twisted away and shoved my manuscript out through the cabin window, opening his hand to let the pages flap and flutter in the wake of the ship. “Perhaps Soren’s brave deed will soften your father’s opinion. I cannot say. But I bid you both please leave an old man to his nausea in peace. With your leave, my prince, I should take to my bed awhile.”
Christian stood and tugged at my sleeve. I rose to my feet, still looking out Ulfeldt’s window as sheets of my writing drifted and dove into the waves we left behind us.
“Your pardon, Lord Ulfeldt. We leave you with our wishes for calm seas and calmer sleep.”
“My thanks, my lord.”
Ulfeldt took our hands briefly, his skin like paper, and then he bowed to Christian and I bowed to him and the prince pulled me into the corridor outside Ulfeldt’s door.
{ Chapter Three }
IN THE SUBLUNARY SPHERE
IT WAS NOT YET SUNDOWN WHEN THE ODIN REACHED the quays north of Kronberg castle. I had spent the afternoon brooding over the insult Ulfeldt had given me. That Christian had shared my manuscript without informing me was a powerful vexation. He was crown prince of Denmark and free to do as he liked, though it seemed to me no sign of friendship. I excused myself from Christian’s company after we quit Ulfeldt’s cabin, but the prince came immediately to my door when we made landfall. He wanted me at his side when we disembarked.
“The old fortress is cold during the winter,” he said. “Be ready to sleep in your furs tonight.”
“Do we not go into Elsinore? I had thought the king would commandeer the mayor’s house for this visit.”
“Nay. I think the king intends to remain in Kronberg, and all of us with him. Put on your gloves, Soren. Let us hope there are yet books in the library, else we shall have nothing to read, either.”
“It sounds most miserable, my lord.”
“Pretend you are a soldier.”
“I know nothing of being a soldier.”
“It entails a great deal of sleeping in the cold, I am given to understand. Come, we will