The Astrologer (32 page)

Bernardo circled round Christian, beating on him with the pommel of his sword, cutting at his arms and smiling the whole time. It was the way a cat toys with a mouse, batting at the tiny prey for an hour or more, withholding the blow that kills and ends the game. I could watch this cruelty no longer.

“Enough,” I called out. “Enough of this, Bernardo!”

The Swiss looked at me, surprised that any man would interrupt him at his sport. Christian gave a wordless cry, nearly a shriek, and ran from Bernardo, toward me or toward the burning castle, I know not which. Bernardo laughed, his head thrown back and his mouth wide open, and then he ran after Christian, overtaking him in half a moment, swinging his sword with both hands, the noise when the blow landed like the splitting of firewood.

I have retained my post as royal astrologer under the reign of King Frederik. He has given his blessing to the publication of
Nunc Scio Mysterium
and I have written a long dedication to his Majesty. In addition, I have been named royal mathematician and royal astronomer. The observatory at Uraniborg was not raised again. It is little more than a pile of brick and rubble that the islanders quarry for their huts and barns. But Frederik is a man of wide interests and a collector of mechanical marvels; he refused to allow Tycho’s instruments out of Denmark. Brahe’s machines found their way to Kronberg, which Frederik rebuilt as a modern fortress. There is even a proper chapel in the east wing. My office, my library, and my chambers are nearby.

I do not spend many nights making observations with the old armillae and sextants. I do not have a staff of assistants. My astronomy is not that of Tycho Brahe; I leave that to the Germans and their Kepler. He has the patience and intellectual gifts that I lack. My time alone with Heaven is given over to peering at the mysterious face of the moon, looking up through the tube of my beloved telescope. Sometimes I turn my lenses upon the stars, which flicker against the great black dome of the universe. There are many more stars than the thousand Brahe knew. I do not know how many. When Lippershey and Janssen, my Dutch lens makers, have crafted a better telescope for me, it is possible I will discover that even more stars than I now see lie beyond the planets. It is a foolish and impossible idea, but sometimes I dream that the heavens are infinite, reaching outward from the Earth in all directions forever unbounded, majestical fires spangling night beyond night beyond night and there is no end to it, there will be no end to it, there can never be an end to it.

Scott G.F. Bailey lives and works in Seattle, Washington. This is his first novel.