The Master's Apprentice - Oliver Potzsch Page 0,153

about the long-gone Frenchman? He’d try to forget Gilles de Rais. He’d try to forget Archibaldus, the missing children, his little brother Martin, Signore Barbarese, the black potion, and Tonio the sorcerer. All that mattered was the here and now.

And Margarethe.

Finally the feast day of Saint Michael arrived. In the large Church of the Holy Spirit at the market square, the priest read a mass about the victory of the angels over Lucifer and spoke about the eternal damnation awaiting all sinners on Judgment Day. The students were obliged to attend mass, but Johann only listened with one ear. In his thoughts he was already with Margarethe.

After the service he ran down to the quay, hired one of the small boats, and rowed up the Neckar to the nunnery. The vines stretching down to the banks of the river were heavy with grapes. Johann saw the vintners with their crates between the rows; they waved at the boats and laughed as they worked. It had rained in the morning, but now the sun shone warmly and humidity rose in clouds of mist over the hills and forests. Autumn seemed far away, and yet it would be October in just a few days. Johann thought there was a faint smell of cold and wind in the air already.

He docked by the little village with the mill and ran up to the convent vineyards. He looked around nervously but couldn’t see any nuns in the hills. Had he arrived early or too late? Had Margarethe changed her mind?

Then he heard giggling and whispering voices. Johann ducked behind the vines and spotted a group of four young nuns in black habits. On their backs they carried crates, which they filled rather halfheartedly. A little farther back walked an older nun, and Johann recognized her as the old hag who had taken his letter at the gate.

“Silentium!” she hissed, and the younger sisters flinched as if they’d been struck. Apparently they weren’t allowed to speak while picking grapes.

Margarethe wasn’t among them. Johann sneaked away as soundlessly as he could and continued to scour the hillside. He didn’t dare call out, and so he walked about aimlessly until he finally spotted a lone figure singing softly while she carefully plucked the grapes from the vines. It was an old nursery rhyme, and Johann’s heart grew as heavy as a lead weight.

Growing in our garden are parsley and thyme; our Gretchen is the bride, she’s looking so fine. Red wine, white wine, tomorrow morn you shall be mine.

He and Margarethe often used to sing this song as children, and to hear it here by the Neckar so many years later almost broke his heart. He remained hidden behind the vines and watched her. Now that she thought she was alone, he could almost see her old smile. Johann drank in the moment before addressing her with a low voice.

Margarethe gave a start, then she turned to him. Her eyes looked both happy and sad at once.

“So you came,” she said.

Johann nodded. “I’ve been longing for this day.” He stepped out from between the vines and brought his hand up to her cheek. “Margarethe—”

But she pulled away. “I’m a nun now, Johann. You know what that means.”

“Isn’t it permitted to touch nuns?” He winked. “Has God forbidden it? Or was it just the grumpy old crone I saw back there?”

“I belong to God now. He protects me and keeps me from harm. He will also ensure that the boogeyman won’t come back.”

Johann rolled his eyes. “Let’s talk about something else. Look what I brought you.” He pulled out a deck of playing cards he’d bought off a peddler the day before. “Draw any card.”

She hesitated for a while, but then she picked a card, and a smile spread across her face. “Jack of hearts . . . So you’re still a magician.”

“And a great one at that. After I left Knittlingen, I joined a troupe of jugglers. We crossed the Alps and stayed in Venice after we traveled Italy.”

As they meandered through the vines together, Johann told Margarethe all about his adventures with the jugglers; about the gifted fiddle player, Peter Nachtigall; the old drunkard, Archibaldus; about Emilio and strong Mustafa. Only Salome he left out, and neither did he mention his time with Tonio del Moravia. Johann knew Margarethe had never liked the creepy magician, not even as a child. And he was afraid that Tonio would remind her of that fateful afternoon in the clearing