The Princess of Denmark (13 page)

She was too preoccupied to hear the door open and shut behind her. It was only when she felt a soft hand on her shoulder that she realised she had a visitor. Looking up with a start, she saw that it was her Aunt Johanna.

‘Did I give you a fright?’ said the older woman solicitously.

‘My mind was miles away.’

‘I think that it should return to the present now. Lord Westfield has arrived and brought his actors with him.’

Sigbrit leapt up. ‘You’ve
seen
him, Aunt Johanna?’

‘I had a brief glimpse.’

‘What is he like?’

‘He’s a little shorter than I imagined he would be,’ replied the other, ‘and rather more solid in the body. But that’s to be expected in a man of his age. He looks very personable, that I can tell you.’

‘How did he bear himself?’

‘Very well, considering the trials they have been through.’

‘Trials?’

‘A voyage across the North Sea is always hazardous.’

‘And it’s one that I am doomed to make,’ said Sigbrit gloomily.

Johanna Langberg held her in an affectionate embrace for a few seconds and gave her a reassuring kiss. Sigbrit’s aunt was a shapely woman in her thirties with a beauty that had been enhanced with the passage of years. Wife, mother and devoted friend, she had a serenity about her that her niece had always envied. In times of stress, Sigbrit had drawn great strength from her Aunt Johanna.

‘Has he asked to see me?’ she asked.

‘I’m sure that he has,’ replied Johanna. ‘What bridegroom would not wish to see his future wife at the earliest opportunity? But your Uncle Bror had told Lord Westfield that he must wait.’

‘On what grounds?’

‘He gave out that you were indisposed.’

‘That is not so far from the truth.’

‘Come now, Sigbrit. It’s time to cast off this sombre mood. A member of the English nobility has gone to immense trouble so that you may be married in the place where you were born. Anybody else in your position
would be touched by the sacrifices he has made.’

‘I am, Aunt Johanna – touched and pleased.’

‘Then why this sorrowful face?’

‘That is what hurts me most – I do not
know
.’

‘Let me tell you something,’ said the aunt. ‘I was only eighteen when I married your uncle and I had these feelings of unease as well. As soon as I became his wife, however, they disappeared as if they had never been there. They were all fantasies.’

‘My case is different, I think.’

‘Is it?’

‘I was married before and I did not have the suspicion of a doubt when I went to the altar with Ingmar. I could not wait to share my life with him. Now, I feel myself holding back.’

‘You must conquer that impulse, Sigbrit.’

‘I have tried.’

‘Lord Westfield will expect readiness. It’s his entitlement.’

‘I know.’ She wrung her hands. ‘You and Uncle Bror have been so kind and patient with me, Aunt Johanna. I do not want to let you down. But the person I most want to see right now is my sister.’

‘That’s the other news I bring you.’

‘Hansi is here?’

‘The ship has just been sighted.’

‘At last,’ cried Sigbrit. ‘Hansi will make all the difference.’

‘That’s why we sent to Copenhagen for her. Bid your fears adieu,’ said Johanna confidently. ‘Your sister is coming to help you. Hansi will know exactly what to do.’

Westfield’s Men were disappointed. Having admired the castle from afar, they had watched it grow ever bigger and more splendid as they were driven towards it in their carts. When they entered the Dark Gate, the stone portal that fronted Kronborg Slot, they went through into a forecourt to be confronted by four smaller gates, each surrounded by elaborate stonework. They then made their way through one of the gates into the main courtyard and blinked in astonishment. Rows of tall windows surrounded them on four sides, each façade topped by gables and pinnacles, and decorated by master stonemasons. Towers increased the feeling of tremendous height. Facing them at the eastern end of the south wing was the chapel, complete with Gothic windows and a striking portal around which statues of Moses, Solomon and King David had been set. In the centre of the courtyard was a superb fountain with an intricate design.

It was a majestic fortress and they felt privileged to be invited into it. When they saw where they would be sleeping, however, they changed their minds at once. Lawrence Firethorn, Barnaby Gill and Edmund Hoode had been given apartments but everyone else was taken down a flight of stone steps into the cellars. The smell of beer and the stink of salted fish told them that they were not the only inhabitants. Stretching under the castle, the casements were dark, dank and unwelcoming. With the only light coming from blazing torches, Westfield’s Men were expected to sleep on straw mattresses in a smoke-filled cavern.

Owen Elias was the first to moan to Nicholas Bracewell.

‘It’s like a labyrinth down here, Nick,’ he said. ‘We’ll get lost.’

‘Not if we stay together, Owen. This is not a place to wander off in,’ remarked Nicholas, looking down a long black tunnel. ‘There’ll be dungeons down here somewhere.’

‘We are staying in one now.’

‘It’s the same for the soldiers. They sleep down here as well.’

‘But we are
guests
. We deserve more.’

‘I’m sure that our patron will speak up for us. Meanwhile,’ said Nicholas cheerfully, ‘we must make the most of our situation. Think of the consolations.’

Elias was cynical. ‘What consolations?’

‘We are safe on land, we are all together and we will soon perform before royalty. Those thoughts will make me sleep soundly.’

‘They’ll do nothing for me.’

‘Would you rather be back in London?’

‘Yes, Nick. I would.’

‘Even though someone tried to kill you?’

‘Those pirates tried to kill us all in the
Cormorant
.’

‘I’m talking about that beating you took,’ said Nicholas. ‘When you joined the ship, you could hardly walk. And you have still not fully recovered from your injuries.’

‘Nor will I if I have to lay my head in this place!’

‘You are among friends – what more do you want?’

‘A soft bed in a warm room.’

His friend laughed. ‘We would all like that. On the other hand, we’ve had far worse lodgings than this when
we toured. At least we are dry and out of that fierce wind. More to the point, we are a long way from London.’

‘That brings me no comfort at all,’ grumbled Elias.

‘It should,’ said Nicholas. ‘You are out of danger.’

The
Speedwell
held its course as it sailed across the North Sea. Among its passengers were Josias Greet and Ben Ryden. They had their orders. They were determined to earn their reward.

Their feelings of disappointment were soon allayed. Before they had even finished complaining about their accommodation in the cellars beneath the castle, Westfield’s Men were taken up to a hut in the forecourt that was used by the officers. Seated at a long table, they were served with a hearty meal that started with hot fish soup and warm bread. Plentiful supplies of beer were on hand and they discovered that the renown of Danish breweries was well earned. The beer was markedly stronger than anything they had tasted in England and, since it was free, they consumed it with additional relish.

Lawrence Firethorn, Barnaby Gill and Edmund Hoode joined them for the meal and a sense of camaraderie returned. Still battered by their encounter with the pirates, they began to feel, for the first time, that they were recovering. Their injuries no longer smarted quite so much and their bruises had faded. More beer was served, toasts
were drunk and singing started. Before the actors lapsed into a stupor, Firethorn decided to tell them what he had learnt.

‘We come somewhat before our time, lads,’ he announced in a voice that compelled attention, ‘and we caught them short of preparation. I am assured that things will soon improve.’

‘They’ve done so already,’ said Elias, quaffing his beer.

‘You merit better lodging than a dark cavern.’

‘Then surrender your room to me, Lawrence.’

‘Have you met the king yet?’ asked James Ingram.

‘King Christian is not yet in residence but he will arrive here in time for the wedding.’

‘When will that be, Lawrence?’

‘At the end of the week.’

‘So soon?’

‘Lord Westfield is a lusty bridegroom. He abhors delay.’

‘Where will we perform?’ asked Hoode. ‘In the courtyard?’

‘Too cold.’

‘In the hall?’ said Gill.

‘I perform best in the bedchamber,’ boasted Elias.

‘But no spectators would pay to watch you,’ Firethorn told him over a burst of raucous laughter. ‘They’ve left the choice to us so I’ll take Nick’s advice. The hall is used as a meeting place for the Councillors and may not be large enough for our purposes. The other place suggested was the ballroom.’

‘Ballroom?’ echoed Gill. ‘They have a ballroom here?’

‘The finest in Europe, I hear, and certainly the longest.
The late King Frederick built it for his wife because she was so fond of dancing.’

‘Then that must be our playhouse. Let a dancer decide.’

‘The Dowager Queen is not enamoured of comic jigs. Barnaby. She’ll want no village antics here. The pavane, the galliard and the volta are more to her taste.’

‘I can dance
anything
, Lawrence.’

‘He’s like a bear on a chain,’ joked Elias. ‘Give him a prod and Barnaby will dance to order. And as with a bear, beware his embrace.’

There was some good-natured baiting and, for once, Gill took it in good part. Like the others, he was relieved to be there after their testing voyage and was refreshed by the delicious meal. It was now possible to enjoy their adventure.

‘Above all else,’ continued Firethorn, rising to his feet with a drink in his hand, ‘remember this. We are not only here to support our esteemed patron. We have the signal honour of representing our country and displaying the talent that she has nurtured. Let us show these Danes why English actors are the best in the world.’ He raised his tankard. ‘To England!’

‘England!’ they chorused with ragged patriotism.

Nicholas Bracewell had slipped out earlier. Having eaten his dinner, he wanted to make sure that Anne Hendrik had also been fed and looked after. Since none of the guards on duty seemed to speak English, he had some difficulty tracking her down in the long, cold corridors. He eventually found her in a tiny room used by one of the servants. It was bare
and featureless but it gave her a privacy that he and the others did not share. They began with a warm embrace.

‘Have you eaten?’ he asked.

‘Extremely well,’ said Anne. ‘I had my dinner served in here.’

‘We’ve been well-fed and given as much beer as we can drink. That will mean tired actors with very sore heads.’

‘Does Lawrence mean to rehearse today?’

‘No, Anne. He wants to give the company time to get over the rigours of the voyage. Most of us are lodged in the casemates. They have all protested bitterly about it but I’ll wager that every man among them will sleep as soundly as a baby tonight.’

‘They need rest. Wounds take time to heal.’

‘There speaks a ship’s surgeon!’ They shared a laugh. ‘Forgive us. I’m sorry that we’ve brought you so far out of your way.’

‘I’m loving every moment of it, Nick. I’ll be made welcome in Amsterdam but I’ll certainly not stay in a splendid castle like this. Have you had time to explore it?’

‘Not yet.’

‘One of the servant girls showed me around,’ she said. ‘It took my breath away. The rooms are lined with gilt leather or hung with rich tapestries. Ceilings are finely ornamented. There are wonderful paintings everywhere and the views from the windows made me gape.’

‘Keep away from the casemates, Anne.’

‘Why?’

‘It’s a different world down there,’ he said. ‘We sleep among beer barrels and stores of salted fish. It’s cold and
airless. There are no windows and a strong chance that we’ll have rats. Kronborg is clearly a castle of two halves – you are in the better half.’

‘Then I’m taking up a bed that you deserve.’

‘I would only sleep in it if you were beside me.’ He kissed her and pulled her to him. ‘Do you realise? This is the first moment we have had alone since we left London.’

‘I hope that there are others before I leave.’

‘There will be, Anne. I promise.’ He released her. ‘We came here in a rattling cart,’ he went on with mock envy, ‘but you arrived in style with Lord Westfield. What happened?’

‘We were met by a man named Bror Langberg,’ she told him. ‘He appears to be in charge here.’

‘Rolfe Harling told us about him. He’s one of the king’s leading Councillors and the uncle of the lady whom our patron is to marry.’

‘He and Master Harling met like old friends, though they hardly have much in common. Bror Langberg is genial and good-humoured.’

‘Then he’s the opposite of Rolfe Harling.’

‘They spoke together in Danish.’

‘Is everything in hand for the wedding?’

‘Apparently.’

‘Good,’ he said. ‘For that’s what brought us all this way.’

‘I’d like to see the town before I go.’

‘I’ll make sure that you do, Anne. We do not perform here until the end of the week. Lawrence is already talking about staging a play in the town beforehand – more than one, perhaps. It’s needful.’

‘Why?’

‘We must have revenue,’ he said. ‘Lord Westfield has paid for our passage here and he will open his purse again when we sail home. Elsewhere, we must look to ourselves.’

‘You will be paid to perform at the wedding, surely?’

‘Handsomely, I expect, but we have many expenses. If we can play in Elsinore itself a couple of times, it will stand us in good stead before we visit other towns.’

‘Not too many of them, Nick,’ she warned playfully. ‘I want you back home with me.’

‘When will you sail for Amsterdam?’

‘After the wedding. The
Cormorant
leaves on Sunday.’

‘There are still more repairs to be made first and Captain Skrine will need to hire new men for his crew. He lost five in all when we were attacked. But for you,’ he added gratefully, ‘that number would have been even higher. The captain will be pleased to see you on board again.’

‘First, I offer my services to the company.’

‘You are one of us now.’

‘Lord Westfield insists that I stay for the wedding.’

‘Your skill with a needle may well be wanted,’ he said. ‘Our costumes are always in need of a stitch or two. And we must look our best for the performance of
The Princess of Denmark
.’

‘Your patron cannot wait to meet his bride in the flesh.’

‘We are all curious to see this lovely creature.’

Anne’s memory was jogged. ‘That’s why it was so odd.’

‘Odd?’

‘Yes, Nick – the look that the servant girl gave me.’

‘The one who showed you around?’

She nodded. ‘Having no English, she talked to me in German.’

‘You have a good grasp of the language.’

‘I did at one time but I’m woefully out of practice. However, I think that I made myself understood in the end.’

‘What did you say?’

‘That I’d heard how beautiful the lady was.’

‘We both saw her portrait, Anne.’

‘Lord Westfield must have shown it to everyone on board. He is so proud of her. The miniature of Sigbrit Olsen reveals her to be a gorgeous young woman.’

‘What was the girl’s reply?’

‘That was the odd thing,’ said Anne, still puzzled. ‘She didn’t make one. She just gave me this strange look as if she had no idea what I was talking about.’

The arrival of her sister had transformed Sigbrit Olsen. Her sadness vanished, her face lit up and her confidence came flooding back. Hansi Askgaard was only two years older but she had a poise and wisdom beyond her age. She lived in Copenhagen with her husband, a close adviser to the new king, and entertained lavishly. While her younger sister tried to avoid it, Hansi savoured public attention and she dressed accordingly. None of Sigbrit’s muted colours would suit her. She preferred bright apparel and wore it with sublime assurance.

‘Enjoy yourself, Sigbrit,’ she urged. ‘That is all you have to do. Enjoy the whole occasion.’

‘I will try.’

‘You have something to celebrate. You will be a wife again.’

‘Yes,’ said Sigbrit, ‘and that appeals to me. But I worry that I am being disloyal to Ingmar in marrying again.’

‘Pah! The only way to get over the death of one husband is to take another. No disloyalty is involved. Ingmar will never be forgotten,’ said Hansi, ‘and he will always remain special to you. But it’s time to come out of mourning and seize this wonderful opportunity.’

‘You make me feel so much better about it all, Hansi.’

‘That’s why I’m here.’

Hansi kissed her sister on the cheek then noticed that one of the paintings on the wall was awry. She set it straight. They were in Sigbrit’s apartment and her sister appraised it critically. There was an air of neglect about the chamber as if its occupant had grown careless and jaded. Hansi clicked her tongue.

‘You’ve been here too long, Sigbrit. It’s not healthy.’

‘I walk around the ramparts every morning.’

‘What use is that apart from exciting the guards?’

‘It’s good exercise.’

‘It’s not your body that needs exercising, it’s your mind. As long as you remain here, you look inward. You mope. That’s why you must get away and why this proposal from Lord Westfield is a godsend.’

‘You thought that he was a trifle old.’

‘Too young a man would be wrong for you.’

‘That’s what Uncle Bror said. He believes that I need a more mature husband, one with some experience of the world.’

‘I agree with him.’

‘If only he did not live so far away.’

‘England is not on the other side of the world,’ said
Hansi briskly. ‘We shall certainly visit you there and so will Uncle Bror.’

‘He and Aunt Johanna have vowed to come next spring.’

‘Then we may well sail with them. You’ll be mistress of your own house once more, Sigbrit, and you’ll entertain us royally.’

‘Thank you, Hansi. My spirits are lifted already.’

‘They should never have been allowed to droop.’

‘I do not have your certainty.’

‘I’ve always known what I wanted,’ said her sister with a brittle laugh, ‘but I look upon that as the right of every woman. At the moment, I know what I want for my sister and that is to see her happy and settled. This marriage will
redeem
you, Sigbrit.’

‘If my husband finds me acceptable.’

‘He has already accepted you.’

‘He has accepted what Uncle Bror has told him about me, and it’s inspired him to travel all the way here. But I’m bound to wonder why Lord Westfield has not chosen an English bride.’

Hansi pulled a face. ‘Have you
seen
Englishwomen?’

‘Not really.’

‘Then you should talk to our ambassadors. Whenever they come back from London, they complain about the appearance and the manners of the court ladies. Queen Elizabeth is over sixty,’ she said as if the attainment of such an age were indecent. ‘Her teeth are black and her face is painted white. What sort of an example is that to set?’

‘Lord Westfield’s other wives were English.’

‘Then he knows the deficiencies of the breed.’

Sigbrit laughed. ‘You make them sound like cattle.’

‘From what I hear, many of them are little better.’

‘I refuse to believe that.’

‘Then believe the evidence of your own eyes,’ suggested Hansi. ‘A member of the English nobility could have almost any woman he wanted in his own country, provided that she was available. Instead of that, he has chosen my sister. He loves you, Sigbrit.’

‘But he has never set eyes on me.’

‘He loves the idea of you and that is what is important. You are young, full of charm and you are Danish. To someone like Lord Westfield, you are eminently
different
. That is why he’ll adore you, Sigbrit, and that is why you must take him as a husband.’

‘Oh, Hansi!’ cried her sister, tears of joy streaming down her face. ‘Thank heaven you came! You’ve made me feel so happy.’

The Trumpeter’s Tower was the tallest in the castle. Situated in the middle of the south wing, it soared up into the sky like a cathedral spire. Climbing up the steep stairs to the top gallery of the turret took them some time but Nicholas Bracewell and Lawrence Firethorn were rewarded with the most spectacular views. In one direction they could see the town of Elsinore, in another, the coast of Sweden and, if they turned with their backs to the courtyard, they could gaze at the Baltic Sea as it broadened out in the distance.

Firethorn’s attention was fixed on the high-pitched castle roofs, glistening brightly in the late afternoon sun as if made of gold.