Herr Bengtsson explained the castle to us, the way he might have explained it to his Americans. He’d been consulting a bottle or two, and after every date he added, ‘But I’m not quite sure about that,’ so we looked it up in Baedeker. It was all wrong, all of it, and we were delighted. There was a dungeon, where Adolfus the Unshaven had been kept locked up for years by Gustavus the Constipated. The castle had very thick walls, and there was a round cage for prisoners, and a gruesome oubliette, or perhaps it was a well . . . Man has always tormented man, only today it takes different forms. But the best thing was the theatre. They had a little theatre in the castle – perhaps so that they wouldn’t get bored during sieges. I sat down on one of the benches in the auditorium, and put on a pastoral comedy for myself, with love and duelling and sighing and refined tippling – and then the Princess became quite forceful. ‘Now or never!’ she said.

‘Right – Herr Bengtsson!’

Like all good-natured men, our fat man was scared of women – he bent his soul as a traveller bends his back under a shower of rain. He made a big effort, and really threw himself into action. He was on the telephone for a long time and then disappeared.

After lunch, he returned in high spirits, his fat rippling with contentment. ‘Come with me!’ he said.

The castle had an annexe. If asked, Fatty would surely have replied, ‘In the twenty-first century . . .’ It was fairly new, long, smooth-fronted, handsome. We went in, and were met by a very friendly old lady. It turned out that there were two large rooms and another, smaller one to let in this castle-annexe. Right here in the castle? I looked disbelievingly at Herr Bengtsson. Here in the castle. And she would cook for us. But wouldn’t we be disturbed by countless tourists coming here to take in the paintings and the torture-chamber? They only came on Sundays, and they never came round this way, they went over there . . .

We inspected the rooms. They were nice and big; there was old castle furniture in them, in a heavy, comfortable style. With my blind spot, I could see none of the details – but the style spoke to me, and it said yes.

One of the windows overlooked the lake, another a quiet little park. The Princess, with female practicality, was assessing the bathroom situation . . . and came back satisfied. The price was surprisingly low. ‘Why is that?’ I asked Fatty. Even when faced with good fortune, we tend to be suspicious. The lady of the castle did it out of friendship for him, because she knew him. And people didn’t often come here for a longer stay. Mariefred was well known as a place for excursions; and such a reputation tended to stick to a place. So we took the rooms.