Copenhagen Castle

Below the palace, the air turns cool and still. The sounds of the city fade. The light here is low and soft, and it falls across rough grey stones and old red brick. These walls were never meant to be seen. For almost two hundred years they sat in the dark beneath one of the most important buildings in Denmark. Now you can walk among them, and the floor under your feet sits on the true foundations of Copenhagen.

What you are looking at are the remains of Copenhagen Castle. They lie beneath Christiansborg Palace, on the small island called Slotsholmen, which means Castle Island. This island has been the centre of Danish power for more than eight hundred years. The palace above you holds the Danish Parliament, the Prime Minister's Office, and the Supreme Court. Few buildings anywhere hold all three branches of a state under one roof. And under all of that power, you find these quiet, broken walls.

The story begins before Copenhagen Castle itself. In the twelfth century, this place was a small fishing and trading settlement on the shore of the Øresund, the narrow strait between Denmark and what is now Sweden. Around 1167, Bishop Absalon built a fortress here. Absalon was a warrior bishop, a churchman who also led fleets and fought battles. His stronghold guarded the harbour and the trade that came with it. Many Danes see him as the founder of the city.

Absalon's castle did not last. Copenhagen grew rich, and wealth brought rivals. The Hanseatic League was a powerful alliance of German trading cities that controlled much of the commerce in the Baltic Sea. They saw Copenhagen as a threat. In 1369, during a war with the Danish king, the League's forces took the town. They tore down the bishop's castle. Some of the stones you see here carry that history — foundations that survived when everything above them fell.

On top of those ruins, a new fortress rose. This was Copenhagen Castle. It was built in the late fourteenth century, and it grew larger over time, with walls, a moat, and towers. At first it still belonged to the bishops. But in the early fifteenth century the Crown took control. From that point, Copenhagen Castle became the home of Danish kings. For more than three hundred years, royal life in Denmark turned around this spot.

Take a moment to look closely at the walls around you. You may notice that the materials change. Some sections use heavy, uneven stone. Other sections use brick, laid in neat rows. These differences are not random. They show different building periods, layer upon layer. Each generation repaired, extended, and rebuilt the castle in its own way. Reading the walls is a little like reading the rings of a tree.

The most famous part of Copenhagen Castle was a tower known as the Blue Tower. It served as a prison for important captives. Its best-known prisoner was Leonora Christina, a daughter of King Christian the Fourth. Her husband fell from favour and was accused of treason. She was arrested and held in the Blue Tower for about twenty-two years, from the 1660s into the 1680s.

Here is something many visitors miss. During those long years, Leonora Christina wrote. Her memoir of imprisonment, known in Danish as Jammersminde, which means something like Memory of Woe, is now a classic of Danish literature. She described the cold, the rats, the cruelty of her guards, and the small ways she kept her mind alive. Words written in a royal prison, not far from where you stand, are still read in Danish schools today.

By the early eighteenth century, the old castle had become a problem. It had been extended so many times that the structure was unstable. The walls were overloaded, and some began to crack. King Christian the Sixth decided it could not be saved. In 1731, the old castle was demolished. In its place, the king built the first Christiansborg, a grand Baroque palace. Baroque was the dramatic, richly decorated style of that era.

That first palace burned down in 1794. A second Christiansborg was built, and fire destroyed most of that one too, in 1884. The palace above you today is the third version, built in the early twentieth century. And here is the second surprise. While workers dug the foundations for this new palace, they found the old walls. Absalon's fortress and Copenhagen Castle had been sleeping under the rubble the whole time.

Instead of clearing the ruins away, the builders chose to protect them. They built the new palace on top and left space below, so that people could visit the remains. That is why you can walk here now. It is an unusual choice. Many cities have destroyed their medieval layers to make room for new buildings. Copenhagen kept them, quietly, under the seat of its government.

As you move through the space, think about how the island looked in each era. First, a wooden and stone fort by the water. Then, a crowded castle with towers and a moat. Then, a series of palaces, each one larger than the last. And today, a parliament building where elected politicians debate the laws of a modern country. Each layer stands on the one before it, and you are standing at the bottom of the stack.

When you climb back up into the daylight, take a moment outside. Look at the canals that still wrap around Slotsholmen, much as the old moats once did. Not far away, a statue of Bishop Absalon on horseback faces toward the palace. Listen to the bicycles, the boats, the voices of the city around you. All of it grew from the small fortress whose stones you have just seen, sitting quietly under the ground.