"The bullpucky was that it was too risky to move the king to Magdeburg," Nichols continued. "That's nonsense because General Stearns had already transported Gustav Adolf by horse-litter to get him to Berlin in the first place. That took almost a week, in rough conditions-which the king still managed to survive, didn't he? As opposed to spending another two days moving him to Magdeburg in a luxurious river barge."

The black doctor took a deep breath. An angry breath, you could even say.

"As for the hogwash, it's true that I told Oxenstierna that there wasn't much that could be done for the king. But 'much' isn't nothing, and however much or little can be done for Gustav Adolf in his present condition, you can be damn sure-to hell with false modesty-that I can do it better than that bunch of quacks he's got up there in Berlin. For Christ's sake, Colonel Hand, one of them is an outright astrologer! The jackass seriously thinks you can make diagnoses and prescriptions based on whether Mars is humping Venus or getting buggered by Jupiter while either Sagittarius or Pisces is making a porno movie about it."

Erik burst into laughter. He was not fond of astrologers himself. As one of Gustav Adolf's cousins, he had had close contact with many of Europe's courts. True, he was the son of an illegitimate cousin, but the fact of his royal blood counted for a lot more in such high circles than the picayune matter of his mother's bastardy. Europe's courts were full of bastards, literally as well as figuratively.

Those same royal courts were also full of credulous people, who gave their trust to the advice of astrologers and soothsayers. Not all of them were mere courtiers, either. To name just one instance the colonel was personally familiar with, the new king of Bohemia was positively addicted to astrology. This, despite the fact that in all other respects Wallenstein was an extremely shrewd and intelligent man.