The Master's Apprentice - Oliver Potzsch Page 0,118
Maulbronn so long ago. It was entitled De Secretis Mulierum; Johann assumed it explored the secrets of the fairer sex.
As promised, Signore Barbarese returned after a few hours. Johann hadn’t touched the wine or the food; he’d been too engrossed in the books. They spoke about some of the works Johann had read, and Barbarese asked questions or made suggestions that gave Johann food for thought.
Shortly before dawn, the black gondola carried Johann back to the trading post, where he slept for an hour or two before Salome shook him awake.
“Where have you been?” she asked sulkily. “Your bed was empty and I was cold.”
Johann rubbed his eyes. Despite the lack of sleep, he felt strangely refreshed and rested. “You’ve got your secrets and I’ve got mine.” He placed his finger on her lips. “That was the deal, wasn’t it? ‘You don’t own me.’ Your words.”
Salome studied him pensively for a while. Then she smiled. “Let’s see if that hussy left anything for me,” she said and grasped him between the legs.
They made love hard and fast, and Johann enjoyed the fact that Salome thought he had a lover.
Not one, but hundreds, he thought as she straddled him. Every one of those books is like a virgin waiting to be discovered.
The gondola was there for him each of the following nights. At Signore Barbarese’s house, the host welcomed him politely and led him to the library. He was always dressed in his old-fashioned garb and never once took off his glasses. After a few hours of studying in solitude, they would engage in lengthy conversations, during which Johann learned more than he’d learned with Archibaldus in a month. The topic of discussion frequently was man and his position in regard to God and the church.
“The scholasticism as it is taught by the church assumes there are invariable facts—irrevocable truths—that must not be questioned,” explained Barbarese. “Everything is laid down in the old scriptures. There is no room for creative thought, except perhaps in the way God’s words are interpreted. But if you’re not careful, you’re a heretic—even though humans are perfectly capable of observing the world around us and drawing conclusions. We ourselves can dissect the world to find out what’s in its innermost heart and finer veins, see all its energies and seeds. Many scholars have chosen this path by now and have turned their backs on the church. Times are changing, Johann. I own notes by a certain Leonardo da Vinci—a very clever man who works with geometry, mechanics, human anatomy, and many other subjects. His genius is like that of a creator, a god.”
“But man can’t be God,” replied Johann. “Behind everything, even behind us, there must be something else—a higher power of some kind, God. What sort of a world would this be if it was based on coincidence, on chaos?”
Barbarese smiled. “Well, it would be a very human world, wouldn’t it?”
During the day, Johann was increasingly sleep deprived, especially since Salome pushed him harder than ever. She was jealous of his imaginary new lover, and she desired him and demanded him with a passion that left Johann hollow and spent. He was frequently unfocused during their shows now, and his temper returned, especially because the troupe was beginning to make new mistakes. Their routine had become a daily grind, and the plentiful wine and good food were taking their toll. Johann, too, blundered in ways he wouldn’t have a few weeks ago.
“You look more dead than alive,” said Emilio one day after a show in which Johann had nearly hit Salome with a knife. “Are you ill? Do you need some rest?”
Johann shook his head grimly. “You worry about your own problems,” he said gruffly. “And throw the balls to me better next time, or I’ll start looking for a new juggler.”
Emilio stared at him in silence, and Johann felt bad about his remark. He wasn’t getting enough sleep, and that made him irritable, though his mind was awake as never before. He couldn’t stop thinking about Barbarese’s books—not when he was at the Fondaco or in his chamber, and not even during his time with Salome.
At least he had stopped studying with Archibaldus. The old man didn’t seem to mind, believing there was nothing more he could teach Johann anyhow. But he worried about Johann.
“Something’s up with you, boy. I can tell,” said the old man.
“What do you mean?” Johann gave a shrug. “I’m growing up and making up my own mind about things.”