The Master's Apprentice - Oliver Potzsch Page 0,169

“Who knows, maybe the angel will appear to us again. Maybe he knows where our path will take us.”

Margarethe gave him an intent look, and for a brief moment Johann thought she’d seen right through him.

“I thought about it again last night. Why did the archangel choose us, of all people? Why does he speak to us? There are so many young couples who can’t be together despite their love.”

“Because you’re someone very special, Margarethe. The angel wants to help you—help us—return to the path of love.” Johann made a sweeping gesture at the woods around them. “And who knows? Maybe he appears to other couples in the area. This is Heiligenberg Mountain, after all. They built a monastery in the name of Michael the archangel up here. It’s his realm.”

They entered the cave. The temperature dropped drastically, and small clouds rose from their mouths. Margarethe tightened the scarf around her shoulders.

Johann loved the sudden darkness inside the cave. In here, the world outside, with all its noise and all that striving for glory and knowledge, seemed completely unimportant.

Only the two of them existed.

A torch that Johann had lit earlier burned from a crack in the rock. The light showed them to their bed, which they’d made over the weeks from moss and dead leaves. As they went past, Johann put out the torch, and there was a soft hissing noise that he hoped Margarethe wouldn’t hear. Now it was completely dark.

They sank onto their bed and embraced like two children seeking comfort. Johann closed his eyes and inhaled the damp scent of the cave, of soil, fungi, and mossy rocks. But most of all he breathed in Margarethe’s smell, which couldn’t be compared to anything. He felt so close to her body, it was as if it were his own. In the same moment, he realized that he was happier than ever before.

He could have stayed like this forever.

But he knew he couldn’t wait any longer. When he’d put out the torch before, he had also lit the fuse that was burning its way slowly and quietly toward the laterna. By now Johann knew exactly how long it took to get there.

“We should pray,” said Johann quietly. “Perhaps the angel will return. I wish he knew the answers to all our questions.”

Margarethe nodded and folded her hands in prayer.

“Oh, Saint Michael,” she muttered, “I beg you, hear us sinners on earth. Deliver us from evil and show us the path to paradise.”

“Deliver us from evil,” repeated Johann.

As he’d expected, the fuse reached the oil lamp at that very moment. A bright speck of light appeared on the opposite wall, and inside it was the figure of Archangel Michael with his sword raised. Margarethe gave a small cry. Even though Johann knew the angel was just an image, he shivered. It was as if God was speaking to him through the apparatus.

“He has come down one more time indeed,” whispered Margarethe. “Oh gracious Lord!”

“Rejoice and be merry,” sounded the strange, unearthly voice of the angel. “For I bring happy tidings!”

As on the other occasions before, Johann turned his head to the side so that his voice was thrown back from the wall. He had seen jugglers use a similar technique for puppets, and for the last several weeks he’d been practicing the trick in the large halls of the library and at the Church of the Holy Spirit. The key was to avoid any sounds that required movement of the lips, or to form them using the tongue and the palate instead of the jaw. It was an ancient technique that had been used by the old Greeks.

“Don’t be afraid,” whispered the angel. “Loving hearts have nothing to fear. What the dear Lord put together, the world can’t tear asunder.”

The image changed, and Michael’s sword arm pointed downward now. It was just a small movement, but the effect made the figure on the wall seem so much more real.

“Follow the call of love,” the angel continued, the voice echoing through the vaulted space. “Follow the call to Vienna . . . Vienna . . . Vienna . . .” The last word echoed several times. Margarethe looked up from her prayers.

“To Vienna? But—”

“I think I know what he means,” said Johann in his normal voice. “There is a university in Vienna, too. We could move there, far away from the nunnery, far away from anything preventing us from being together.”

“Oh, Johann! Is that really true? Tell me I’m not dreaming!”