The Master's Apprentice - Oliver Potzsch Page 0,138

I met her through my brother-in-law, who sometimes goes to Knittlingen on business. Do you know Knittlingen?”

Johann nodded uncertainly. “A little.”

“Well, there was a well-situated girl. The dowry wasn’t very big, but she’s the daughter of the Knittlingen prefect. I thought it was a good bargain. And she’s easy on the eye.”

Oh yes, she is, thought Johann. As beautiful as the sun after a dark night.

“I was deceived,” Kohlschreiber went on angrily. “The devil’s inside that woman—but the father never said a word! Apparently, she didn’t speak for weeks following an incident in the woods with some young lad. She didn’t say much with me in the beginning, either.” He burped and wiped his lips. “Not the worst trait for a wife to have, really. I don’t like bickering women. But when I tried to perform my marital duty, she stopped talking altogether. The only time she said a word was in her sleep—terrible words . . .” Kohlschreiber lowered his voice. “She spoke about Satan, about missing children, and about a hand reaching for her . . . ‘The boogeyman, he is coming to take me, he will take us all,’ she muttered in her dreams. Like I said—that woman’s possessed by the devil! ‘Go away, go away,’ she shouted, and the next morning she couldn’t remember a thing.”

“So . . . so what did you do?” asked Johann.

“What do you think?” Jakob Kohlschreiber leaned back and crossed his fat arms on his chest. “At first I was going to hand her over to the authorities. I mean, who wants a witch in their house? Next thing you know, you fall under suspicion yourself. But then I changed my mind and sent her to Neuburg.”

“To Neuburg?”

“The Benedictine nunnery on the Neckar. For all I care, she can spend the rest of her life kneeling before the altar. The Neuburg nuns are particularly strict. I kept the dowry, of course.” He gave a malicious laugh. “I’m going to drink it away until I find a new wife. But this time I’m not going to be cheated—not for the third time. The first one couldn’t have children, and the next one turned out to be a witch. Damn the useless womenfolk! Hey, where are you going?”

Johann had sprung to his feet. His drunkenness had vanished and he suddenly felt very sober. If he sat here for a moment longer, he would throw his mug at the obnoxious fellow.

“Got to get back to the hostel,” he muttered. “Keep the wine.”

“Well, I won’t say no to that.” Kohlschreiber studied Johann with his small eyes. “There’s something about you I don’t like, boy. You’re up to something, aren’t you? What is it?”

Instead of replying, Johann walked away, and the winemaker refilled his mug.

Almost blind with grief, Johann headed for the exit. He just wanted to get out of there; he didn’t even take the time to look for Valentin. As he was about to go through the door, Hans Altmayer blocked his way.

“And where are you going in such a hurry?” asked Altmayer. “Did you steal something, you—”

He didn’t get any further, because Johann thrust his fist into Hans Altmayer’s face. All his anger discharged in one single punch. Altmayer went down with a gasp of pain, and his comrades took a step back. Johann’s expression told them not to come near. Something eerie and unpredictable flickered in his eyes as if he were a wild animal.

“You will regret this,” cried Altmayer, holding his nose while the blood formed a red puddle on the stone floor. “You will regret this, you arrogant bastard!”

But Johann didn’t hear him. He had already rushed out into the street. A chilly breeze swept through the night, but it didn’t dampen his anger and his grief. Margarethe was so close to him and yet as far as if she were in Venice or Rome—or even farther.

She was at a nunnery.

15

JOHANN STAYED IN bed for two days. He reported himself sick, didn’t attend lectures, and spent the days staring at the ceiling of his room. Not even Valentin got through to him. His friend brought him bread, soup, and thinned wine, but Johann only drank the wine and left the rest untouched. When Valentin begged him to tell what had happened, Johann said nothing.

Johann felt as though night had descended upon him and there was no hope of daylight returning. Ever since he’d decided in Venice to seek out Margarethe, this goal had given him the strength to carry on.