The Master's Apprentice - Oliver Potzsch Page 0,15

slowly walked around the printing press and touched the metallic, ink-stained shafts with the back-to-front letters, Father Antonius lifted a small clay bottle from one of the shelves.

“I made this medicine last week with a recipe from an old monastic book,” he explained. “The book was in one of the boxes from Worms.” The father smiled. “It’s mainly made of . . . well, cheese mold.”

Johann looked at him with surprise. “Cheese mold?”

“And a little sheep dung and honey.” Father Antonius raised his hand. “I know, it sounds a bit strange. But it’s an old recipe and supposed to help with the white plague. You don’t have to tell your mother exactly what it contains.” He handed Johann the corked bottle. “Give her one sip today and then one sip morning and night every day for the next week. Praying won’t hurt, either.”

“Thank you, Father.” Johann was about to leave when one of the books in the crates by the printing press caught his eye. A few months at Latin School had improved Johann’s Latin greatly, and so he stared with surprise at the title and author of the book on top of the pile.

Speculum Astronomiae.

“Mirror of Astronomy,” he muttered. “By Albertus Magnus, venerable brother of the Dominicans and bishop of Regensburg.”

Astronomy, Johann knew from Father Bernhard’s class, was the knowledge of the stars, just like astrology. He recalled his mother mentioning the stars and the day of his birth yet again earlier this day. But he hadn’t realized men of the church also took an interest in the stars.

“Does the church believe in the power of the stars?” he asked Father Antonius.

“Well, it’s a thin line between what the church believes and what it condemns as heresy,” the monk replied. “The stars are an expression of God’s will, says the pope, and so does the great Albertus Magnus, who wrote this book more than two hundred years ago. Even bishops occasionally have their horoscopes cast.” Father Antonius gave a small grin. “Although personally, I don’t really believe in it. Albertus Magnus also wrote about alchemy and magic. Some say he was a sorcerer himself. But where does black magic begin? And what is God’s will?” He smiled. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s . . . it’s just . . .” Johann was about to tell the father about his conversation with his mother when he realized how long he’d already been at the monastery. He had to return to Knittlingen! His mother needed the medicine as soon as possible.

“I’m afraid I don’t have any money on me,” Johann said hesitantly. “But I’m sure my father will reimburse you.” Deep down, he doubted it. His father was a miser who considered the monks a bunch of quacks.

“No need to trouble your father.” Father Antonius waved his hand dismissively. “It’s a gift of the church. If you ask me, the farmers of Knittlingen have paid us more than enough. May God protect your mother and may the medicine bring her relief.”

“Thank you so much, Father!” Johann briefly squeezed the father’s hand before rushing outside and stuffing the precious bottle under his shirt. During his conversation with Father Antonius he’d almost forgotten how ill his mother was, and now he’d have to hurry if he wanted to make it home before nightfall.

Johann left the church and ran past the smithy and the inn, through the monastery gate, and toward the hill that separated Maulbronn from Knittlingen. The sun was low on the horizon, and the trees cast long shadows. The small bottle pressing against his chest, Johann ran up the steep path until he reached the dense beech forest. There was a spring in his step now that his worries weren’t weighing him down as much. He felt certain the medicine would help his mother—Father Antonius had always been right. All would be well! And next time he visited Maulbronn, the father might tell him more about this Albertus Magnus who might have been a sorcerer.

Soon Johann had reached Gallows Hill. The place appeared much gloomier now that it was getting dark. The branches of an elm tree near the gallows groaned in the wind like a hanged man drawing his last breath.

And someone was awaiting Johann there.

Three figures were sitting on the stone platform. When Johann came closer, they jumped off the wall and walked toward him.

Johann started with fright. At first he thought they were highway robbers out to get him, but then he recognized them as three boys from town.