“The king could spy on his guests through the eyes of portraits,” our guide said.

I stepped closer to the painting.

Tiny holes pierced the canvas where the pupils should have been.

“That’s creepy,” Dani whispered.

“Wait until you see the bedroom.”

We followed her into the next room.

She pointed toward a mirrored ceiling.

“The secret escape route is through the dresser.”

I looked at the dresser.

“Through that?”

She nodded.

We moved into the parlor, walking beneath a lenticular painting.

The figure’s expression shifted as we crossed the room.

Its eyes appeared to follow us.

“And this was one of King Christian IV’s favorite jokes.”

The chair looked ordinary enough. Carved oak. Velvet cushion. The sort of chair you might expect to find in a royal palace.

The guide lifted a panel and explained what was hidden inside.

A water reservoir could be filled and arranged to leak onto the seat of an unsuspecting guest. When the victim finally stood up, embarrassed and looking for the source of the water, concealed bellows produced a loud farting noise.

Four centuries later, our guide still paused for the laughter.

\~

Outside, Rosenborg looked exactly like the Renaissance castle I had expected.

Stone towers rose above manicured gardens. Carriage houses lined the grounds. Everything was proper and orderly, fit for a king who had ruled Denmark and Norway.

Inside, the king seemed considerably less interested in behaving like one.

Christian IV had fought wars, founded cities, and ruled for decades from a throne made from what was said to be unicorn horn.

He also apparently liked fart jokes.

The tour continued.

We saw earrings made from fragments of the cannonball that had blinded him in one eye.

Then we entered the treasury.

Behind glass sat a ring depicting a woman’s hand gripping a jewel-encrusted phallus.

“A gift for his wife,” the guide said, “after he discovered she’d had an affair.”

I stared at it.

“Wait. She had an affair?”

The guide nodded.

I looked back toward the castle.

“The mirrored ceiling. The escape route. The farting chair.”

She shrugged.

“Clearly a joke.”

Then she smiled.

“But that’s the king for you.”