The Master's Apprentice - Oliver Potzsch Page 0,165

been a while since they last saw each other. Celtis had been lodging at other courts—Dresden and Mainz—and Johann had focused entirely on his studies. He wanted to gain the degree of magister as fast as possible so he could finally take Margarethe away from Heidelberg.

Celtis received him in the same austere chamber as on previous occasions. The only change was that there now stood a table full of books, parchment scrolls, and documents. Johann had never seen any food or drink in Celtis’s room. It was as if the scholar lived solely on literature and iron gall ink.

“So?” asked Celtis once they were both seated by the fire. “How are your studies progressing?”

Johann nodded. “I’m almost done with the works of Plutarch, and I’m well acquainted with Archimedes’s mathematical formulas now. Only the Cyrenaics still give me trouble. Aristippus of Cyrene, Arete, Theodorus—”

Celtis waved dismissively. “The Cyrenaics hardly ever feature in the exams, because the doctors don’t understand them, either. The sensation of lust appears to be foreign to our learned scholars, even though the Cyrenaics only mean gentle movements by that term.” He laughed. “The quality of the teaching staff in Heidelberg is rather below average, as you’ve probably figured out for yourself by now. With the exception of my old friend Jodocus, of course.”

Johann looked at Celtis expectantly. He didn’t know what the purpose of this conversation was. Ever since his embarrassing faux pas at Heidelberg Castle, he’d tried not to criticize the magisters and doctors—even if he’d sometimes had to bite his tongue.

“Have you ever considered studying in another city?” asked Celtis abruptly.

Johann straightened up on his stool. He was glad about the question—it would make leaving Heidelberg so much easier. “Indeed, following my magister, I could imagine—”

“I meant sooner. This summer.”

Johann’s jaw dropped with surprise. He thought he must have misheard. “But . . . but . . . how? I’m in the middle of studying for my magister—”

“Which you can also complete somewhere else. A student of your scope—child’s play!” Celtis grinned. “And you would have me as your sponsor.”

Johann said nothing for a while. “I’m afraid you’ll have to elaborate.”

“I will.” Celtis leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I’m going to move to Vienna this very summer. The German king, Maximilian himself, has asked me to create a chair for rhetoric and poetics. A great honor! Vienna is the center of the Holy Roman Empire and boasts one of the largest universities.”

“I know,” whispered Johann. “I . . . I’ve heard of Vienna.” Suddenly he felt like the floor was swaying beneath him, and he clutched his seat tightly.

“I could do with a young assistant by my side. Someone to comb the libraries for old manuscripts for me, archive documents, and separate the wheat from the chaff. Maybe someone who will uncover long-forgotten knowledge.”

“And . . . and you thought of me?”

Celtis laughed. “Who else? You may be a little arrogant, and you lack respect for us old folks, but you’re smart and ambitious, just like I used to be. And you’re by far the best student the university has seen in a long time. Good old Jodocus and I spoke of you just the other day. He told me you pass all your exams summa cum laude.”

“You’re too kind.” Johann lowered his head. Inwardly, he was shaking.

What Celtis had said was true. He was one of the best, and even old Partschneider had to admit it. His intelligence, coupled with everything he’d learned from Tonio and Archibaldus, raised him above the other students. He was predestined to become a great scholar, and with Celtis’s offer, there was nothing in the way of this career. Going to Vienna as Celtis’s assistant was more than he’d ever hoped for. What would his mother say if she were still alive? Would he get to meet the German king?

But what about Margarethe? He’d always planned on completing his magister here at Heidelberg and then taking her with him. But as an itinerant scholar at the side of Conrad Celtis? How was that going to work?

“You hesitate?” asked Celtis and frowned. “I didn’t expect that. If it’s about money—”

“It’s not about money,” said Johann quickly. “It’s . . . it’s just that there are a few things I still need to see to in Heidelberg.”

“Oh, I see!” Celtis winked at him. “A girl. Well, hear this advice from an old rake: love is hot and burns out fast—only art is everlasting. The desire for art—for the sciences,