The Astrologer (20 page)

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 opinion is of no matter. Is the prince injured?”

“He seems well enough, but his disposition has been unpredictable. He may have shaken his brain in the fall from the horse. I do not know.”

“Ah. He may have lost his wits?”

“You sound pleased, General.”

“It would suit us were the prince addled. I know what Marcellus has said to you. We must be plain with our speech, master astrologer.”

“Very well.” I pulled free of Bernardo’s hand and rubbed my arm where he had gripped me. These Swiss had pulled me into their own conspiracy because of my clumsiness and now we were partnered, or rather I was their tool. So be it, for our shared aim was the death of the king, but I did not much like my new friends, or rather my new masters.

“The prince is a coward and may be motley-minded,” I said. “This is the sort of man you will make ruler of Denmark?”

Bernardo grinned with the left side of his face. The flesh beneath the heavy scar over his right profile seemed dead or in a paralysis.

“Young Christian will not be the sort of king who leads his own army. It plays well for us. And for you too, astrologer. Men with mixed wits lean heavily on superstition, and we will tell you what fortune to read into Christian’s skies. He will be at our mercy. This is an excellent opportunity to increase our fees. You have before you a profound lesson in the ways of commerce.”

“Indeed.”

“Will the prince return with us to Elsinore?”

“That, he must tell you. I cannot say, but if he is a coward, he may seek to hide himself here longer. I cannot predict what Christian’s plan is.”

“I shall sift him, then.”

“Shall we go inside? There is a fire in the coal stove.”

“Are you cold, astrologer?” Bernardo looked around as if only just noticing that it was winter. “We will go to your fireside in a moment. I have something to give you first.”

Bernardo took from beneath his cloak a plain dagger in a black leather sheath and handed it to me.

“When you return to Kronberg and kill Old Christian, you will use this knife instead of your clumsy potions and frozen serpents.”

“I am no soldier,” I said. “I do not know how to stab a man.”

“You will find that it is easily done,” Bernardo said. “Put the bare point to one side of the king’s spine between his shoulder blades and lean hard on the hilt. The blade will do the rest. You need merely wait until you are alone with the king.”

“I do not think—”

“Christian is a man. He deserves a man’s death. You must be a man to give him that death.”

“How the king dies can be of no matter to you, as long as he is dead.”

“It matters. Do not cross me on this, little astrologer.”

“Why do you not just kill him yourself?”

“That would not be honorable. We are knights errant of Lucerne. We are not assassins nor murderers. We are not criminals nor little men. Do not ask such a question again, astrologer, for the insult in it will make me very angry.”

Had Bernardo’s gaze been a dagger, he would have left me bleeding. I recalled the ease and amusement in Marcellus’s bearing when he had beaten me, and I took the dagger from Bernardo. I hid it in my doublet, the cold steel hilt hard against my ribs.

“Shall we go inside?” I said.

“The king gave you a commission here, did he not?” Bernardo looked over the collapsed towers and tumbling bricks of Tycho’s palace.

“Aye. There is a lit stove upstairs, in a warm room. You see the window with closed shutters?”

“Have you taken your inventory of Brahe’s toys yet?”

“Nay. There is yet work for me. And it is cold work, and slow. My notes of the explorations thus far are inside. Shall we look at them?”

“Ulfeldt asked that I inquire, that is all. I should speak to the prince now.”

At last, I thought. My fingertips and toes ached madly with cold.

“Then we go inside?”

“Nay, for look where the prince comes down to see us.”

Bernardo left me where I was and walked back to the manor. Christian was outside, in the deep blue shadows of the building, speaking with Cornelius and Voltemont. I hurried after Bernardo and caught up with him as he reached the prince.

“My lord Christian,” Bernardo said, bowing from the waist.

“My lord general,” Christian answered, inclining his head. “What truant disposition brings you to this remote place? Surely you ought to be with my father.”

“Surely we both ought, my lord. But the king your father commands I personally visit his son so that I may report, with the avouch of mine own eyes, that you are well. You acquitted yourself handsomely at Copenhagen, my lord, but we did fear some injury to you.”

Bernardo spoke as if every word was the truth. Here was no mere plain soldier, but a true politician.

“Ah, I most humbly thank you,” Christian said. “And though I did fall, I am well, good general. You may tell my father that.”

“You will not tell him yourself?”

“My business here with Soren is not concluded, but I will
go to Kronberg for Christmas. You may say that to my father and my mother, good Bernardo.”

“I will, my lord. Have you any more to tell?”

Christian looked over at Cornelius and Voltemont, and then at me.

“I have a word or two, good general, to put into your ear. Will you come into the castle a moment?”

“As you command.”

“Gentlemen,” Christian said to the rest of us. “Your pardons and your patience, I beg of you. I must borrow Bernardo and the privacy of this charming ruin while you remain out here in the cold.”

He beckoned to Bernardo and led him in through the cook’s door. Cornelius and Voltemont huddled together and I walked back out into the broken sunlight. It was not much warmer than standing in the shadows and I paced about, my hands deep in my cloak, kicking at the snow. I could not guess if Christian gave Bernardo an excuse or an apology to take back to his father, or if he merely tried to gauge the level of the king’s anger. It was difficult to know. The prince’s speech since his arrival did not always keep within a natural frame. Much of what he said lacked form and I worried about the health of his wits. I was going to kill his father. If Christian then became our half-brained king, all of Denmark would serve under the puppet of foreign soldiers. How could I allow it? Yet I could not warn the prince; that would be death for me and my own friends. I must learn for myself how well the prince’s mind still hunted the trail of sanity.

He and Bernardo were gone some quarter of an hour. Cornelius and Voltemont came over to where I waited in the patchy sunshine.

“Will we return to Elsinore tomorrow?” Voltemont asked. “I do not enjoy this place. In faith, my entrails have turned to ice. I shall never be warmed through again, I say.”

“Prince Christian commands us,” I said. “It will be his word
that takes us home, but he has promised to return us to Elsinore for Christmas.”

“Good. My thanks, Soren, for pressing the case with him.”

“You are welcome, Voltemont. And now here comes the prince with Bernardo.”

The Swiss had mounted their horses by the time we crossed the yard to stand by Christian. Bernardo and his captains towered over us, and for a moment I feared they would draw swords and run us down.

“Good gentlemen,” Christian said. “It will please you to know that these goodly Swiss have come to take you from me. You shall ride two-to-the-horse down to the wharf, where General Bernardo’s barge awaits.”

“My lord, we thank you,” Cornelius said.

“Aye, thanks, my prince,” Voltemont added. “I shall be glad to see Kronberg once more.”

“And gladder still to never see this island again so long as you live,” Christian said. He glanced at Bernardo and then pulled Cornelius and Voltemont closer, his hands on their collars.

“Good friends,” he whispered. “Your word, sirs, that you will say nothing to any man that I am here. So help you mercy. I should not like to see you thrown into irons, or worse.”

“My lord,” Cornelius said. “We swear!”

“Aye, we swear,” Voltemont said.

“Swear it!”

“We do swear!”

Christian let go the men’s cloaks and patted them on their shoulders.

“Excellent well,” he said. “And my thanks.”

“What of Soren?” Voltemont asked.

“Ah, Soren will remain on Hven another day with me. We are not finished here, he and I.”

“Are we not?”

“Nay, sir. We are not. Voltemont, give me your sword. I
shall not go about unarmed if my two bravest soldiers are to leave me.”

Voltemont unbuckled his belt and gave it, with scabbard and rapier, to the prince. Bernardo shifted in his saddle and let his horse take a step forward. I looked up at the general and thought of a giant black vulture sitting atop a house. He called down to Christian from his perch.

“My lord, we must soon depart. Daylight wanes, and the king expects my report ere sunset.”

“Aye,” Christian said. “Gentlemen, I hold it fit that we shake hands and part, you as your business and desire shall point you—for every man hath business and desire—and for my own poor part, look you, I’ll go pray.”

Christian took Cornelius’s and Voltemont’s hands, bade them farewell, and then rushed into Uraniborg. It fell to me to help the men up onto the horses behind the Swiss captains, and I soon had mud and snow smeared over my breeches and cloak for my efforts.

The five men were soon away, disappearing over a hill on the track to the village. I hurried inside and was met by Christian just within. He shut the door behind me and took hold of the front of my doublet, keeping me at the length of his arm. Voltemont’s sword was in his other hand, unsheathed. The naked blade alarmed me a great deal.

“My lord,” I said. “What is the matter?”

“What did he want?”

“He?”

“Him.”

“Bernardo? He inquired after you, my lord.”

“Oh, of that I have no doubt. What did you tell him?”

“He asked if you were injured, and I said that I am no surgeon.”

“There are many things you are not.”

“Indeed, my lord, but I did not think it expedient to list them all.”

“You mock me.”

“Are we not friends, my lord? I do but jest.” I tracked the motion of the rapier’s tip in the edge of my vision. “Hath Bernardo given you ill news?”

“None but that the world’s grown honest.”

“Then his news is not true.”

Christian did not smile at the joke.

“What did Bernardo tell you, Soren?”

I tried to recall anything Bernardo had said that I could safely repeat to Christian. The movement of the rapier was a terrible distraction.

“The general told me that the battle against Jaaperson was violent and bloody.”

“Did he say aught of my part in it?”

“A good day for all, he called it.”

“For all?”

“His very words, my lord.”