The Master's Apprentice - Oliver Potzsch Page 0,145
haughty.” Gallus closed the book on his lectern. “Well, then, until tomorrow evening by Saint Mary’s Chapel, when the bells ring seven o’clock. Be on time or we’ll leave without you two.” Just before he exited the room, he turned and winked at Johann. “Maybe we’ll even find a mirror for your camera obscura there. Though I still don’t fully understand what you intend to do with it.”
Johann was far too excited that night to sleep. Not only would he see Margarethe again soon, but now he was also invited to Heidelberg Castle! It seemed like all would end well for him after all.
Partschneider gave them a grim nod as Johann and Valentin left for Saint Mary’s Chapel the following evening. As they walked through the lanes at dusk, Valentin had a wide grin on his face.
“If only the Swabians could see us now! They’d choke with envy.”
“Don’t speak too soon,” said Johann. “We don’t know if Altmayer has been asked to join the group.”
“Bah.” Valentin waved dismissively. “The only invite he might get is to a drunken bender on Hirschgasse Lane. The Swabians know more about fighting and drinking than rhetoric and poetics.”
Several magisters and students were already waiting in the light of a torch by the chapel, and everyone seemed rather excited. To Johann’s relief, neither Altmayer nor any of his ruffian friends were among the group. Two night watchmen with lanterns and halberds led the small group up the hill to the castle. Johann still struggled to believe that he, the bastard of a farmer from Knittlingen, was going to visit the electoral court with all these learned men. If only his mother had lived to see it. The other students seemed to share his feelings, nudging and winking at each other while the older magisters and Rector Gallus led the way in a more dignified manner. As a sign of his office, the rector carried a gilded scepter, holding it in front of him like a monstrance.
As if the starry sky had descended upon Heidelberg, dozens of small lights illuminated the windows of the new castle. The path ran first along the castle wall and then across a drawbridge, through the outer ward, and toward a large gate, which opened from the inside with a loud creak. Beyond the gate, the castle courtyard was brightly illuminated by fire baskets. The watchmen escorted the delegation of doctors, magisters, and students into a low room with a vaulted stone ceiling. A long table full of food had been set up inside, and maidservants holding jugs of wine awaited them with smiles. The air was filled with delicious smells of roasted and smoked meats. Johann’s stomach growled loudly; in his excitement, he’d hardly eaten anything all day.
Apprehensively, Johann and Valentin sat down together with the other students. No one dared to speak; an awkward silence ensued. Finally, Jodocus Gallus, sitting at the head of the table, clapped his hands.
“How does the saying go?” the rector said with a smile. “Plenus venter, non studet libenter. A full stomach doesn’t like to study. But neither does an empty stomach—all the more true for pert young scholars who still have some growing and maturing to do. Help yourselves.”
The students attacked the food hungrily. Especially those from poorer families—they hadn’t eaten this well in a long time. The feast was in full swing when a side door opened and Conrad Celtis appeared. Johann quickly put down the chicken leg he was eating, and he and the students stood up and bowed respectfully.
Just like during his lecture at the chapel, Conrad Celtis radiated an almost tangible authority. Despite the still summery temperatures, the famous scholar wore a fur-collared gown and a woolen cap. His clothes were embroidered with colorful patterns, giving him the air of a magician. He seemed stern and forbidding at first, but that changed as soon as he spotted Jodocus Gallus among the guests. The two friends and colleagues hugged each other warmly and started a lively conversation in Latin. The other guests took it as a sign to continue their meal; the students also conversed in Latin now.
It wasn’t long before passionate discussions started up around the long table, and Johann and Valentin eagerly participated. Johann had rarely felt so at home. His stomach was full, the wine made him talkative, and the conversation touched on subjects from a wide range of fields. They discussed the imperial diet at Worms that had brought about the everlasting public peace the year