Free The Astrologer by Scott G.F. Bailey Page A

a few other knights.”
    “What can they intend?” The bishop waved a hen’s leg vaguely to the west, toward Jutland. “Have they not yet heard of the king’s victory at Aalborg? Does Jaaperson not know that he marks himself now for death?”
    “They think us weak,” the king said. “They think that with my personal army halved, split between Jutland and this garrison at Elsinore, they can march into Copenhagen, sit in my throne, and declare themselves kings of Denmark.”
    “Theirs is but foolish talk,” Tristram said. “None can but dream of taking my lord’s throne.”
    “And what is to stop them from dreaming?” The king held up a fist before his face and then slowly opened his hand. “We have fled from Jutland and holed up here, in this remote fortress, so they will say. But Christian son of Rorik, king of the Danes, fears no man. None, do you hear me?”
    “Who calls you coward, my lord?” Ulfeldt lifted a spoonful of something to his face, sniffed it, and set it back on his plate. “No man that I know of. Even Baron Jaaperson fears your might, though his hubris spurs him on against you. We will have all the advantage, however, as he knows not that I have discovered his plans to march upon Copenhagen.”
    “Your ears are long indeed,” the king said. “Again have you proved your value, Ulfeldt. We shall ride out in two days to meet Jaaperson. His army now treks heavily through the thick forests, through the snowdrifts and ice-filled rivers that separate Roskilde from Copenhagen. My army shall be waiting when Jaaperson and his exhausted men come out of the trees to make for the road. It shall be a glorious day, and my nearest enemy shall meet my blade and know death. Fear not, my lord bishop. Fear not, my queen.”
    “Fear not, mother,” Christian said. “My father has ever won his battles, and I shall be at his side this time.”
    “We will lay waste to those fools,” the king said, and placed his meaty hand atop his son’s. “They will see that I am not so old, nor you so young, that we may be trifled with. Christian and Christian, shoulder to shoulder, father and son, king and prince: it will be a sight to make Saint Canute smile in Heaven.”
    “I do not wish our son to see Canute on that day,” Kirsten said.
    “Nor the king neither,” Vibeke said. Prince Christian and the king smiled and sat back, puffing up their chests.
    “Death is nothing,” the king said. “I have seen death often.”
    “The deaths of other men, yes,” Kirsten said.
    “Mother, do not worry.” Christian lifted his goblet. “Let us drink to the coming victory of the Dane over the traitor Jaaperson.”
    I raised my cup and feigned sipping my wine while Christian and the others drank to this victory. Closing my eyes, I wished the king a personal introduction to death. The party fell silent for a few minutes. It occurred to me that Christian had paid very little attention to Vibeke. When the conversation resumed, the prince asked his mother for news from the city. The bishop took up with Ulfeldt and Sir Tristram a discussion of the spread of Luther’s religion. None had addressed me during the meal and I remained quiet, attending as best as I could to the conversations around me. I saw that the king watched Vibeke closely; like a dog before a foxhunt, he seemed to strain forward in his chair toward her, though Vibeke looked the whole time from her father to the bishop and Tristram. The king turned unexpectedly to face me and I jumped the least bit in my chair.
    “Soren.”
    “Majesty.”
    “How are you enjoying Kronberg?”
    “My lord, it is a fine fortress. I thank you for bringing me here. It is an honor.”
    “I bring you here because you are of use. You have heard how pleased I am with the horoscope you cast in Jutland before my victory over Gustavus?”
    “Aye, my lord.”
    “You have just heard that another battle will come in a few days.”
    “My lord, am I to come with you into battle against