The Emperor of All Things - By Paul Witcover Page 0,127

notice of the bowl in her lap and, blushing again, offered it to me. ‘Frau Hubner says you are to finish this broth – every last drop.’

I took the bowl from her, feeling a tingle where our fingers brushed. The beefy smell of the broth made my mouth water. There was a wooden spoon in the bowl, and I raised it to my lips and sipped. I had never tasted anything so delicious; warmth and vitality coursed through my body in dizzying waves.

‘Slowly, Michael,’ the girl admonished as I slurped down the broth. After a moment, she returned to the subject of clocks. As she spoke, she toyed with the ring on her necklace, turning it in the fingers of one hand, and I found myself wondering once again about the story that no doubt lay behind it: felt, too, a twinge of jealousy at the thought that some other man, living or dead, might have a claim on her affections.

‘When I was young, our timepieces seemed like magic to me. But as I grew older, I began to wonder at how they functioned. I longed to take them apart and see for myself what it was that drove the hands in their orbits and regulated their progress around the dial. But as you have discovered, it is impossible to get permission to open any of Herr Wachter’s creations. Of course, that didn’t stop me. I can’t tell you how often I tried in secret to gain access to my father’s pocket watch or one of the other timepieces of the town. And how often I was caught and punished. But despite my efforts, I never managed to open a single one. As for the tower clock, I’ve searched and searched for a way in, even climbing to the campanile itself, but without success. Yet I haven’t been completely defeated. Over the years, I managed to find a few old timepieces tucked away in attics – clocks and pocket watches from before Wachter’s day – and these I studied thoroughly, dissected and put back together as best I could, with tools I fashioned myself out of cutlery and anything else that came to hand. But I have reached the limits of what I can learn on my own. I require instruction, a teacher. A man like you, Herr Gray … that is’ – and she blushed again – ‘Michael.’

Finished with the broth, I returned the empty bowl to her and lay back against the pillows. A vast and sleepy well-being pervaded me. I felt light-headed, almost drunk. I had no desire to argue with this pretty and spirited young girl. ‘I should like to see some of those tools of yours, Corinna,’ I said.

Her blush deepened. ‘I would be ashamed to show you.’

‘Ashamed?’

‘I didn’t simply take your tools, Michael. I studied them. What beautiful things they are! So cleverly designed, so lovingly crafted. By comparison, mine are crude, laughable, ugly.’

‘I received most of my tool kit when I became a journeyman. Over the years, like many clockmen, I’ve added some implements of my own design. But to do what you have done, without benefit of a master’s guiding hand – that is truly impressive.’

‘Papa doesn’t think so. He finds my interest in timepieces unladylike. I’m afraid I couldn’t show you my tools even if I wanted to, for he confiscated them from me after learning that I had taken yours. But he’s done so before, and it hasn’t stopped me yet.’ She flashed a conspiratorial smile. ‘I just make new ones.’

‘I’ve never met a girl quite like you, Corinna,’ I told her. ‘And yet I almost feel as if we have met before …’

‘Why, that’s not surprising,’ she said. ‘After all, I helped care for you during your sickness, even if you don’t remember it.’

‘For which I’m grateful.’

‘Grateful enough to teach me something of your art?’

It occurred to me that I had been manipulated into acknowledging an obligation, but somehow I didn’t care. ‘I doubt your father would approve.’

‘He doesn’t have to know,’ she said. ‘It can be our secret. At least for the next few days, while you’re getting your strength back, you could teach me. What harm could it do?’

‘I’ll think about it,’ I told her. After all, what would be the harm in showing her a few things? Nor was it lost on me that Corinna could prove a valuable ally in my efforts to convince her father, the burgomeister, to grant me the permission I sought.