The Master's Apprentice - Oliver Potzsch Page 0,10

and a weakling. He says I’ve nothing but nonsense in my head.”

“Oh, your father. Just let him talk. Who cares?” She smiled, and for an instant Johann saw in her eyes the lively girl with blonde curls from long ago. Young and beautiful like Margarethe, and her laughter just as clear and cheerful.

“I know there’s more in you,” she said, patting his hand. “You ask too many questions, and people don’t like that. They only believe what they see, and they don’t want anything to change. But you look further and dig deeper. You always have, even as a small boy.” She raised her head a bit. “How is school going for you?”

“Good. Very good, even.” Johann nodded. The thought of school brightened his mood a little.

A few months ago, his mother had asserted her wish that he be allowed to attend the higher Latin School, even though he’d completed his time at school. His father had been against it, especially because Latin School was expensive and usually reserved for the sons of wealthy patricians. But Jörg Gerlach had soon realized that this was very important to his wife and she’d never leave him in peace until he agreed. Since then, Johann had been learning Latin, grammar, arithmetic, and even a little astronomy. Along with his trips to the nearby Maulbronn monastery, his hours at Latin School were Johann’s small escapes from the bleakness of everyday life in town. Sometimes he dreamed of studying at a university, like the one in Heidelberg, or even farther away. But he knew his father would never let him.

“Father Bernhard taught us about the heavenly bodies and star constellations,” he continued. “He said there are scholars who claim that the sun, not the Earth, is the center of the universe.”

“Heresy!” His mother smiled. “Don’t let the priest hear you say that.”

“Next Sunday night, the father wants to show us the stars from the steeple. He even has an astrolabe! He’ll use it to show us the constellations the seafaring folk use to find their way on their journeys. Cassiopeia, the Great Bear, Pisces, Scorpius . . .” Johann hesitated.

“What is it?” asked his mother.

“You’ve often said that I was born under a lucky star. That’s why I know the date of my birth. But what star was it?”

“Well, which one do you think, silly?” His mother winked at him, and he caught yet another glimpse of the young girl from long ago. “Jupiter, of course, the lucky planet! God has great plans for anyone born under Jupiter. He who is born under the lucky star is possessed by a deep longing for freedom and knowledge. He is never content but forever trying to get to the bottom of things. He is a prospector in the mine of knowledge, always searching for the truth. And he is someone who can lead people.”

“How do you know all that?”

She paused. “A . . . a wise man once told me. A very wise and widely traveled man. He was a sage despite his young age. He told me fate would smile especially upon you. That’s why I named you Faustus. It was his idea. Born on the day of the prophet, he said.”

Johann frowned. His mother had never spoken to him like this before. He vaguely remembered someone else talking about a prophet—the magician he’d met on that memorable day at the fair years ago.

“Who was that man?” he demanded.

His mother hesitated. “He went away long ago. He . . . he came from the west . . .” Another coughing fit gripped her. It got so bad that Johann feared she’d suffocate. When she handed him the dirty cloth with a weak gesture, he saw that it was saturated with blood. Johann sprang to his feet.

“You need medicine,” he said. “I’ll go to the barber-surgeon right away.”

His mother closed her eyes and breathed heavily. “Forget the barber. I’ve told you many times he’s a quack. No better than all those charlatans at the fairs. All I need is rest. Rest and the stories you tell me.”

The Knittlingen barber-surgeon was a drunkard who firmly believed he could heal any disease with bloodletting and purging. He thought any new findings in the art of healing were nonsense, just like the ancient knowledge of the monks and Arabic scholars. But there was no doctor in Knittlingen, and the physician in nearby Bretten was much too expensive.

“Then . . . then I’ll go to the Maulbronn monastery,” Johann said. “Father