the penumbra of the king’s routine that I might discover an opportunity to make a ghost of him. Sneaking about, I learned his habits and made a plan.
In the mornings, the king met with his advisors in the office he had commandeered from Sir Tristram. Food was delivered directly from the kitchens and I had no access to the dishes brought up by the cooks. Besides, there was no chance of my tainting the king’s portion without murdering a dozen other men. After meeting with his generals, the king took exercise in the armory, training with his master-at-arms for an hour. There was a score armed men with him and I would be a fool to attempt anything there. The king surrounded himself with advisors and guards at all times but twice each day: after his swordplay he took a bath in a great tub carried into the armory and filled from steaming copper kettles wheeled in from the kitchens, and after his bath he made his way to a chamber on the upper floor of the north wing where he would sleep for a time. Though the room was guarded by four Swiss in the corridor, I had learned that this chamber shared an inner door with the apartment Ulfeldt and his daughter occupied.
My strategy was to admit myself somehow into this sleeping chamber through Ulfeldt’s lodgings, and leave a trap for the king to discover. This would be difficult, as Ulfeldt used his rooms as an office and was in them a great deal. When he was not there, Vibeke was, except when we were all at the supper banquet. The problem vexed me for most of the week until one morning I went up to the private chamber and tried the door, finding it unlocked. I was alone in the hallway and so I openedthe door and stepped into the room. It was a small space with a narrow bed, two plain chairs, and an old wooden table. The windows faced the open sea and I supposed that the king found the tedious landscape of waves and sky to be relaxing after his exercise. There were dried herbs cast about the corners to sweeten the air and there was another scent in the room that I knew but could not identify; it tantalized me from just beyond the edge of my memory.
This door carelessly left open was my chance to hand the king his death, if I could act in time. Downstairs in the armory the king had just begun his practice and I had nearly two hours to make things ready. I hurried down to my lodgings and opened the trunk Fritz had brought from Copenhagen. I lifted out a small wooden box, the size of a loaf of peasant bread. A dry scuffling noise came from the box and I felt the vibrations of the creature stirring within. He would be ravenous and angry after being so long imprisoned and unfed.
The only venomous snake in Denmark is the northern cross adder, a rust-brown viper some two feet in length with an eggshaped head and glassy black eyes. Most of these serpents sleep through the winter in subterranean dens, but a few have been found in castles and houses, having slithered in for warmth and to hunt rats. I greatly dislike snakes.
I placed the wooden box on my table, wrapped a warm cloak about my shoulders, and undid a few buttons of my doublet. The box just fit under the garment, and I startled when the snake moved within, knocking his head against the wooden lid. If the latch failed I was surely a dead man. I crossed myself and left the room, hurrying to the castle doors and out into the frigid weather. A light snow fell, very delicate and pretty.
A snake hibernates when he is cold, like a bear. He will only rouse, even when starved, if he becomes sufficiently warm again. At least this is what I had once read, or how I remembered something I had once read. I would carry the viper out and loose him into the snow where he would coil upon himself and fall into a suspended state, as if dead. I would thenbox him back up, carry him through the castle to the sleeping chamber, and place him beneath the pillows on the king’s bed. The warmth of the king’s body would attract the adder and he would
In the mornings, the king met with his advisors in the office he had commandeered from Sir Tristram. Food was delivered directly from the kitchens and I had no access to the dishes brought up by the cooks. Besides, there was no chance of my tainting the king’s portion without murdering a dozen other men. After meeting with his generals, the king took exercise in the armory, training with his master-at-arms for an hour. There was a score armed men with him and I would be a fool to attempt anything there. The king surrounded himself with advisors and guards at all times but twice each day: after his swordplay he took a bath in a great tub carried into the armory and filled from steaming copper kettles wheeled in from the kitchens, and after his bath he made his way to a chamber on the upper floor of the north wing where he would sleep for a time. Though the room was guarded by four Swiss in the corridor, I had learned that this chamber shared an inner door with the apartment Ulfeldt and his daughter occupied.
My strategy was to admit myself somehow into this sleeping chamber through Ulfeldt’s lodgings, and leave a trap for the king to discover. This would be difficult, as Ulfeldt used his rooms as an office and was in them a great deal. When he was not there, Vibeke was, except when we were all at the supper banquet. The problem vexed me for most of the week until one morning I went up to the private chamber and tried the door, finding it unlocked. I was alone in the hallway and so I openedthe door and stepped into the room. It was a small space with a narrow bed, two plain chairs, and an old wooden table. The windows faced the open sea and I supposed that the king found the tedious landscape of waves and sky to be relaxing after his exercise. There were dried herbs cast about the corners to sweeten the air and there was another scent in the room that I knew but could not identify; it tantalized me from just beyond the edge of my memory.
This door carelessly left open was my chance to hand the king his death, if I could act in time. Downstairs in the armory the king had just begun his practice and I had nearly two hours to make things ready. I hurried down to my lodgings and opened the trunk Fritz had brought from Copenhagen. I lifted out a small wooden box, the size of a loaf of peasant bread. A dry scuffling noise came from the box and I felt the vibrations of the creature stirring within. He would be ravenous and angry after being so long imprisoned and unfed.
The only venomous snake in Denmark is the northern cross adder, a rust-brown viper some two feet in length with an eggshaped head and glassy black eyes. Most of these serpents sleep through the winter in subterranean dens, but a few have been found in castles and houses, having slithered in for warmth and to hunt rats. I greatly dislike snakes.
I placed the wooden box on my table, wrapped a warm cloak about my shoulders, and undid a few buttons of my doublet. The box just fit under the garment, and I startled when the snake moved within, knocking his head against the wooden lid. If the latch failed I was surely a dead man. I crossed myself and left the room, hurrying to the castle doors and out into the frigid weather. A light snow fell, very delicate and pretty.
A snake hibernates when he is cold, like a bear. He will only rouse, even when starved, if he becomes sufficiently warm again. At least this is what I had once read, or how I remembered something I had once read. I would carry the viper out and loose him into the snow where he would coil upon himself and fall into a suspended state, as if dead. I would thenbox him back up, carry him through the castle to the sleeping chamber, and place him beneath the pillows on the king’s bed. The warmth of the king’s body would attract the adder and he would
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