Sky's Dark Labyrinth (13 page)

Kepler rose from his seat. ‘I thank you for your concern and I bid you both a good day.'

Their exit was conducted in silence. As Kepler returned to the foot of the stairs, wondering what to tell Barbara about the encounter, he heard his mother's indignant voice coming from the kitchen. From the sound of it, Frau Bezold was rising to the challenge.

The two women were engaged in a tug of war over the remains of a shoulder of mutton. Some remnants of meat were all that hung from the bone.

‘It's spoiled in the heat,' Frau Bezold was saying.

‘You can cut that off.'

Kepler raised his voice. ‘Mother, what are you doing?'

She did not let go of the bone. ‘She's going to waste this.'

‘It's gone off,' said Bezold.

‘Enough, the pair of you! Give me the bone.'

Kepler held out his hand. After a moment, Bezold relinquished her grip and Katharina passed it to her son. Sure enough there was a green tinge to the scraps that remained.

‘This joint is spoiled. We cannot eat it.'

‘You were not brought up to live a wasteful life,' accused Katharina.

‘Oh, mother, if only you knew how tightly our belts are tied. It is an effort just to get the salary that I was promised from the Palace. I spend most of my time chasing from one office to another, trying to find someone who won't fob me off saying it isn't their concern.'

‘But the Emperor said he would pay you.'

‘Yes, but the actual business of handing over the money is done by officials who are overwhelmed by the demands of their master.'

‘Then I will go up there tomorrow. I'll make them pay up what they owe you.'

‘No, mother, you won't. I can fight my own battles.'

Crossing the bridge one morning, Kepler stopped to mop his brow and noticed six or seven feet of cracked mud beneath. The Vltava usually sloshed all the way up to the stone embankment. He had to stop several more times on his walk up Hradčany Hill. His best doublet and jerkin were too heavy for this weather, but what else could he wear to the Palace?

A red-faced von Wackenfels was waiting for him, his blond hair newly cropped.

‘You've cut your hair.'

‘Vanity gave way to practicality.' He ushered Kepler into the Palace and guided him to the grand hall, which was full of gentlemen fanning themselves with their hats.

Kepler approached the vast windows in the great hall, thrown open to allow in what currently passed for fresh air, but the heat from the stone columns drove him back.

‘You look tired, my friend,' said von Wackenfels. ‘Are the demands of fatherhood testing your resolve?'

‘It's this constant business of visits. I had no idea my wife was so widely known in Prague. She has amassed a veritable army of friends. Each one must be treated with such cordiality on arrival and exit that it drains my time.'

‘Nevertheless, you have completed the prognostications?' Von Wackenfels sounded anxious.

‘Indeed, I have.' Kepler patted the documents, tied into a sheaf. ‘It is
The Rudolphine Tables
that are falling behind. But I'll catch up.' He passed the documents to von Wackenfels.

‘I have another issue to discuss,' said Kepler. ‘My salary is now three months in arrears.'

Von Wackenfels grimaced. He leaned in and lowered his voice. ‘I am sorry, my friend. These are difficult times for the Emperor's finances. We are pressed from all sides. The presentation of this should help though.' He waved the horoscope. ‘Nothing loosens the imperial purse more than a gift.'

‘Is there nothing that can be done today?'

Von Wackenfels considered the problem for a moment. ‘Listen, I have a surfeit of wine. I'll have some brought round to you.'

‘I don't want charity.'

‘It isn't charity. It's a gift while I see what I can do on your behalf. You must drink in this heat; my wine will help.'

Kepler nodded his thanks.

‘You're not the only one who hasn't been paid.' Von Wackenfels tipped his eyes across the room.

Striding towards them from the inner chamber was Tengnagel and a number of hangers-on.

‘What's he doing here?' whispered Kepler.

‘He is an Appellate Councillor now.'

Tengnagel's heels clicked on the flagstones. As he drew close, Kepler noticed that a crucifix was bound around his belt. Flanked by his cronies, the Junker stopped, raised his chin and looked down his long nose.

‘Herr Kepler.' He sounded cross.

‘Junker Tengnagel. You have exchanged astronomy for politics.'

‘Where are the great and illustrious observations of my
father-in-law?
'

‘In my study, at home, where I can work on them.'

‘And who gave you permission to remove them from the Golden Griffin?'

‘The Emperor purchased them from you and commanded me to produce the tables.'

‘The Emperor has not paid me so they are still mine. That means you stole them from me.'

Von Wackenfels stepped in. ‘You have been paid some money.'

‘A thousand thaler, which is no more than the interest on the debt. I want my father-in-law's observations back.'

‘I cannot go against an imperial command. I will not hand them over.'

Tengnagel smirked. ‘Then I propose a deal, since you are using my observations. Everything you do with them must be published under our joint names.'

Kepler stilled his first instinct, thought about it, and then spoke: ‘I agree, on one condition: that you pay me a quarter of all interest monies you receive for the observations. Two hundred and fifty thaler per annum – a small price to pay for immortality, wouldn't you say?'

Tengnagel's brow knotted. He pointed at Kepler. ‘Your impudent greed knows no bounds. You'll get nothing from me. Prepare the ledgers. Someone will be round to collect them this afternoon.'

Kepler was left standing open-mouthed, unsure how this disaster could so suddenly have befallen him.

‘I'm sure we can do something,' said von Wackenfels.

Kepler was not listening. ‘I have to go.'

‘Johannes, wait!'

‘I have no time,' he shouted over his shoulder, drawing stares from the others as he sped out of the hall.

Von Wackenfels caught up. ‘At least let me pay for a carriage for you.'

When Kepler burst through the front door, Barbara was nursing Susanna in the coolness of the shadows. She jumped from her seat. ‘Husband! You gave me a start.'

‘Take Susanna upstairs. I have no time to lose.'

As she scurried away, he separated the Mars ledgers from the others and laid them in a stack in strict chronological order. They comprised a tiny fraction of the whole collection. If he were lucky, Tengnagel's men wouldn't notice they were missing. He checked to make sure he had them all and then carried them five at a time to the attic, setting them on the floor of his temporary bedroom.

On one trip Katharina appeared. ‘What's all this running up and down?'

‘I have no time to explain, mother. Please, stay out of sight.'

She shrank back into her bedroom.

When the last trip was completed, he heaved the mattress off the bed and laid the books in a single layer across the wooden frame. Eyes stinging with sweat, he pulled the mattress back over them and rearranged the covers.

He finished just as the bailiffs arrived, instantly recognisable by their rhythmic thumping on the front door.

The carriage rumbled through the night, bumping across the Stone Bridge. Inside, Kepler tried to rub some life into his eyes, which not ten minutes ago had been shut tightly in sleep. As well as playing havoc with his rest, these late night summonses irked Barbara, and with good reason, thought Kepler. They woke Susanna who then toddled around the house, behaving as if it were morning.

The Emperor demanded more and more attention these days, commanding reports or horoscopes whenever a whim entered his head. Lately it had been the nativity chart of Caesar Augustus; then one for Mohammed; followed by the fate – according to the stars – of the Turkish kingdom; and a prophesy on the outcome of a fight between the Republic of Venice and the Pope. The list was
never-ending
.

Kepler sniffed loudly, trying to clear his nose. He swallowed down the foul-tasting stuff and yawned as the carriage started up the hill to the Palace. When they reached the courtyard, a bleary-eyed footman opened the door.

Von Wackenfels was waiting, shifting from one foot to the other.

‘What
is
the urgency?' asked Kepler, dismounting.

‘You don't know? There's a new star in the sky.'

Kepler looked up. It was thick with cloud.

‘The Imperial Meteorologist reported it earlier, before it became overcast.'

‘A meteorologist?' Kepler struggled to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. He knew he was being uncharitable but, at this time of night, he found being grumpy helped, especially if he thought he had been woken for nothing.

Von Wackenfels frowned at him. ‘He's no fool. He and the Emperor are up there now, waiting for it to clear.'

As they hurried along one black corridor after another, Kepler finally recognised the mural of the god Jupiter above the entrance to Rudolph's Chamber of Art. They hastened inside.

‘Johannes, you should know that the Emperor is not himself these days. He has a lot on his mind. Having not married, he leaves no heir.'

‘He's only fifty-two.'

‘Nevertheless, he feels time is running short.'

‘Then he will be succeeded by his brother.'

‘Yes, Matthias is the obvious choice. He is well regarded by the rest of the family and has a fine military mind, but he has been so
antagonistic
towards His Majesty that the Emperor would prefer to be succeeded by his cousin.' Von Wackenfels hesitated before saying the name. ‘Archduke Ferdinand of Styria.'

Kepler's insides churned. ‘The man who exiled me from Graz.'

Von Wackenfels nodded.

They climbed the tower and returned to the night air.

Rudolph was dressed in little more than his nightshirt and a gown. He looked thin and was tottering on tiptoes, moving from one parapet to another, anxiously scanning the sky. His hair was unruly. He mumbled something as von Wackenfels announced Kepler's arrival.

The Meteorologist was a young man with an earnest face. He wore a long cloak and stayed fixed in his position, watching the voluminous clouds. ‘It was in this part of the sky, brilliant bright and sparkling with colour,' he said to Kepler.

‘Are you sure it wasn't Jupiter? It's bright, though it doesn't twinkle.'

‘It was close to Jupiter, sir, but it was not that planet.' He radiated sincerity.

They waited together as Rudolph flitted around behind them, saying something in Latin that Kepler could not catch. The rest of them passed few words. After an hour, an unmistakable dampness rose in the air.

‘If it turns misty, we are finished tonight,' said Kepler.

‘There!' The meteorologist was leaning over the edge, pointing to the sky. ‘It's clearing.'

The clouds were shrinking from the sky so quickly that it could have been the hand of God brushing them aside. More and more of the sky opened up. No one spoke; they just stared and waited. Even Rudolph paused in his strange dance.

‘Oh my …' said Kepler as a quartet of jewels was revealed. He
identified
three of them immediately: red Mars, ochre Saturn and white Jupiter, gathering for their great conjunction. The fourth took him completely by surprise. Unlike anything he had seen before, it was certainly not a comet because it had no tail. It rivalled Jupiter in
brightness
, but in contrast to that steady beacon the new star glittered, displaying all the colours of the rainbow.

Rudolph sank to his knees to receive the light of the new star, arms open and palms upright. His voice rose in volume and clarity. ‘Of all the times for this new star to appear, it chose this special moment. What are we to make of it, Mr Stargazer?'

‘It is propitious indeed, Your Majesty, though I cannot give you a snap assessment.'

‘Forgive me, what special moment, Your Majesty?' asked the Meteorologist.

‘We are entering a new astrological era, one that stands for
righteousness
,' explained Kepler. ‘It happens only once every eight hundred years and is heralded by the grand conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn as we enter the fire trigon, the beginning of the cycle …'

Rudolph interrupted. ‘In the past, the entry into the fire trigon has heralded the greatest turning points in history and the ascendancy of a great man to guide the way. Eight hundred years ago, Charlemagne founded Europe; eight hundred years before him Christ was born. The question is, what now? What great age are we about to enter and who is to bring about this new dominion of thought and leadership?' He paced the rooftop, scratching at his forehead. ‘The conjunction of the planets must have ignited this new world, brought it into being. Imagine, we have seen the birth of a planet. What influence will it cast on us?'

‘Your Majesty, if it is anything like the new star that Tycho Brahe observed in 1572, it will be located far beyond the planets, in the starry sphere of Heaven. I believe this is a new star rather than a new planet. I will arrange for observations to be taken each night. If it's a star, it will remain fixed in position with the other stars. If it's a planet, it will follow its own path, and we will see this motion in a matter of days. I confidently expect to find that it is a star and that it will fade, as the previous one did, over the course of a few years.'

‘I was crowned in the same year as the previous new star. Do you suppose that dooms me to fade away too?'

‘Astrological symbols are seldom explicit in their meaning, Your Majesty.'

Rudolph was not listening. ‘The new age is coming, what shall I do with it? Prepare me a horoscope. I need to know what this all means. I want to use this moment to crush my enemies.'

‘Enemies?' Kepler spoke carefully. ‘Religious enemies?'

‘No, my own brother, Matthias. I will put a stop to his schemes once and for all.'