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from his cousin and laid a hand on my arm.
    “I began to think he’d talk all night. How do you, Soren?”
    “I am well, Fritz. We must speak.”
    “Later. We will walk the ramparts. I’ve not viewed Elsinorefrom the castle in years and I will not pass the opportunity by. Even at night, the town must seem quite charming from this hill.”
    “I have seen Elsinore at night many times before.”
    “Your home town no longer charms you after you’ve seen so many finer places.”
    “Elsinore is a walled fishing village in the shadow of an old fort, nothing more.”
    “The same old contempt. I am happy that you change as little as does timeless Elsinore. Will you visit your father now you’ve come back?”
    “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”
    “It would do you good.”
    Straslund awoke and reeled back in his chair. He pawed at the table, knocking over his empty goblet. I believe Straslund was born under Gemini, but it was often joked that his mother had discovered him wrapped in swaddling under the sign of a wine merchant.
    “Damn it! More wine! Long live him, eh?” His words were slurred and heavy, a drunken blur, and after a moment Straslund’s eyes slid shut and he slumped forward onto the table again, his hair falling into a tray of herring.
    “My cousin is greatly vexed with you,” Torstensson said. “He claims you would murder him.”
    “Knud is not valuable enough to murder.”
    “He is not. Though my aunt and uncle seem to love him well enough.”
    “One cannot choose one’s family.”
    “Perhaps not.” Torstensson looked up the table. “I think the king will give a speech now.”
    “At last.” We were all weary after the day and to cut the banquet short would offend none.
    The king took to his feet and waved us all to remain seated. For a moment he was silent, looking one by one into the face of each man there, scowling at the sleeping head of Straslund when he came to our end of the table.
    Christian son of Rorik had been born under the sign of the planet Jupiter, which accident of nativity had ever conferred luck upon him. Jupiter was further conjoined in square with Uranus, long guaranteeing the king’s particular success on the battlefield. It had often been said of Christian that he had been bred to be a soldier, and the heavens did seem to agree. Many are the crowned heads of Europe ruled by Jupiter. Those born in mighty Jove’s influence are ruled by fire and are tempestuous, vainglorious, loving of honor and honors, and holding to the rule of law. But the heat of Jupiter softened the substance of the king’s imagination to make him forgetful and dependent much upon custom, for innovation requires a harder, dryer organ of thinking. He was a simple man and there was never any mystery to him.
    The king coughed into his fist, spat on the floor behind him, and then addressed us.
    “Our cousin Gustavus, Earl of Jutland, was a traitor,” he said. “Gustavus was related by blood to many in the privy council and most of the nobility. He was cousin to half the men at this table. He was a traitor not just to our throne, but to the blood of his family and to the very blood of Denmark.”
    The assembled nobles sounded their agreement. Those men most closely related to Gustavus condemned him with the loudest voices. Ulfeldt leaned forward, raising a hand.
    “My lord, Gustavus was caught up by the very ecstasy of arrogance, whose violent property fordoes itself and leads the will to desperate undertakings as oft as any passion under heaven that does afflict our natures. It made him into a madman.”
    “Aye, Ulfeldt, a madman indeed! Who but a madman scorns his own family? Who but a madman points a naked sword at the heart of a king who rules by the will of God alone? Our cousin was mad, and though our forces now occupying Aalborg have broken Gustavus’s army, this madman has some like-minded allies who would contest against the will of God and against our royal will. Denmark hath yet more blood to cast