The Master's Apprentice - Oliver Potzsch Page 0,178

before. The Swiss confederacy rose against the emperor and Swabia, and since then the word of the emperor didn’t carry much weight in this area. The class of knights—for centuries the pillar of the empire—became increasingly impoverished, and to make a living, many knights roamed the lands, thieving and murdering. Here in the Hegau region, too. Not even the everlasting public peace Emperor Maximilian had promised had been able to change this state of affairs. The farmers also suffered, and many had chosen a life in the forests, where they banded together as groups of outlaws. Cities, on the other hand, flourished, and merchants and patricians grew wealthier by the year. The face of the world was changing.

“I think that should be enough wood.”

Karl’s voice tore Johann from his musings. The student was standing in front of him, his arms laden with dry wood.

“Is everything all right?” asked Karl, frowning.

“Yes, yes.” Johann shook himself. “Put the wood down here.”

Karl lit a small, flickering fire, and together they prepared a meal of dried meat, carrots, and wild herbs. Satan was given a bone, which it carried under the wagon. Only its glowing red eyes could be seen in the dark.

“Why did you call him Satan?” asked Karl abruptly.

“The dog?” Johann threw the mastiff a rabbit bone, which the large animal ground up noisily. “Like I said—a man is always what people want to see in him. I’m traveling by myself, without hired mercenaries or other protection. When I call Satan, people think I’m truly in league with the devil and leave me alone.” He gave a shrug. “Although I must admit—the trick probably wouldn’t work if Satan was a cute little poodle.”

While they ate, Johann studied Karl Wagner. He was handsome; the girls most likely adored him. And the lad didn’t seem stupid—a tad naive, perhaps, but he was still young.

“Can you play chess?” asked Johann brusquely.

Karl looked up from his bowl. “Chess?”

“I play according to the new rules as prescribed by Luis Ramírez Lucena in his book. It contains many interesting openings and moves, the ‘smothered mate’ among others. Have you heard of it?”

“Um, I’m afraid not. I’ve played chess a few times, but I fear I’m not very good.”

“I will teach you,” said Johann, trying not to let his disappointment show. He still hoped he’d chosen the right one.

“You want to know why I saved you?” he asked after a while.

Karl nodded.

“I want to show you something. Wait here.” He walked to the back of the wagon and took out the laterna magica. He had installed a few improvements since the first apparatus he’d built with Valentin back in Heidelberg. The casing was now made from copper and had a tube at the front where lenses could be inserted. Another tube at the top allowed the smoke to vent. Also, a larger hollow mirror reflected the light much better.

Johann pointed the front tube toward the canvas of the wagon, opened a flap on the side of the casing, and lit the lamp inside with a burning pine chip. Instantly, a bright, perfectly round circle of light appeared on the side of the wagon.

“Now pay attention,” said Johann.

He decided on the image with the white woman. Most of the time it achieved the desired effect. He opened a small container with glass plates, took one out, and inserted it into the slot on the side of the laterna.

Instead of the circle, a white, ghostly woman hovered on the wagon’s canvas.

“Dear God,” whispered Karl, dropping his plate of food. “What . . . what is that?”

“I don’t think I did particularly well with her,” said Johann with a shrug. “The white dress looks more like a sheet, and her eyes don’t look real. The devil in Warnheim today was a rather sad figure, too. More cattle-beast than lord of the underworld.”

“Are . . . are you saying you insert glass plates into this apparatus and then those . . . those images appear?” asked Karl breathlessly. “You deceived those Warnheim peasants?”

Johann waved dismissively. “I’ll explain how exactly it works another time. The important thing right now is that you understand that it isn’t black magic, just science. The laterna magica is my most important tool. I sell theriac, read palms, cast horoscopes—just like many other traveling artists. But my reputation is all down to my laterna—my wit and knowledge aside.” He sighed. “But I’m not happy with the paintings. Let’s say my talents lie elsewhere.” Johann put out the light and