The Master's Apprentice - Oliver Potzsch Page 0,131

a stale piece of bread that day. His savings from Venice were almost completely gone, and he’d been holding on to his last few coins for his arrival in Heidelberg.

The week before, his journey had led him very close to Knittlingen. He had been filled with a silent longing, but most of all he’d felt pain. He had no reason to return to the city of his childhood. Why would he go where everyone hated him? And those he had loved were either dead or no longer there. If he was ever going to return to Knittlingen, he wanted to do so with his head held high, as a magister or doctor, even.

Johann’s hand went to the pocket where he still kept the letter Archibaldus had given him. He’d touched it so many times that the paper was thin and tearing at the edges. He prayed that this document would indeed help him get into the university. Archibaldus had gotten them into the Fondaco dei Tedeschi, after all, so perhaps the Stovenbrannt name still bore some weight.

Johann had been to Heidelberg once before, as a small child with his stepfather, and he remembered the bridge and the new castle that sat enthroned on the opposite slope beneath an older fortress. Wedged between the river and the foothills of the Odenwald Mountains lay the city, which had grown dramatically over the last decades.

On the market square, Johann bought one of those sweet pretzels he’d seen the children carrying, from a baker who had set up his stall beneath the columns of the large red sandstone Church of the Holy Spirit. He saw burghers in expensive clothing and admired the pretty gables of the houses as he walked along the paved main streets. This city didn’t stink half as badly as other towns he’d passed through.

Johann stopped and cast a reverent gaze at the electoral castle. Heidelberg was no Augsburg and certainly no Venice, but it was where Philip the Upright ruled; as count palatine, he was one of the most powerful rulers in the empire. One of his ancestors had been the king, and another relative, Count Palatine Ruprecht I, had founded Heidelberg University more than a hundred years ago. It had always been Johann’s dream to study here, and he could hardly believe that it might actually become reality.

The lanes around the market square were bustling, and Johann asked his way to the university buildings. They lay on both sides of a street near the Church of the Holy Spirit in the city center. A group of students clad in the typical black gowns were just emerging from a chapel, wearing their berets rakishly low on their brows. They seemed proud and aloof to Johann, who looked down at his own dirty clothes with embarrassment. All of a sudden he felt completely out of place, like a stupid peasant at the court of a king. It took all his courage to ask one of the students about the name Archibaldus had given him.

“You want to see Rector Jodocus Gallus?” The student didn’t look much older than sixteen, but he eyed the taller Johann with a mix of mocking and contempt. “If you’ve come to beg the old man for a penny, let me tell you that the honorable doctors don’t earn nearly enough to feed scroungers like you. You’re better off going to the Augustinians—they’ll give you a bowl of gruel.”

Johann clenched his fists but forced himself to stay calm. “I haven’t come to beg but to deliver a letter to Doctor Gallus,” he replied coolly.

The student gave a shrug. “Try at the schola artistarum next to the monastery. I think old Gallus might be holding a lecture.” He raised a finger. “But you better not disturb the class—or you’ll be in deep trouble!”

Johann turned away without another word. After searching for a while, he finally found a smaller single-story building close to the Augustinian monastery. It looked new, like many other houses in this part of town, with whitewashed walls and expensive crown-glass windows. Johann could hear monotonous Latin recitals through the open windows. He looked inside and saw a long room filled with about two dozen students sitting on wooden benches. Some were busy taking notes, but most of them looked as though they needed to sleep off last night’s feasting. Their heads kept slumping forward in regular intervals, whereupon their neighbors would giggle and elbow them. Standing by a lectern at the front of the room was