The Master's Apprentice - Oliver Potzsch Page 0,182

would take Karl with him and care for him.

But if he was completely honest with himself, he wasn’t doing it because of charitable, Christian feelings or because he merely needed a glass painter for his laterna. He could have hired a painter in one of the larger cities.

No, he did it because he could no longer bear the loneliness.

Despite his fame, despite all his freedom and the knowledge he had gained in recent years, Johann wasn’t happy. He had forgotten how to love, because it would seem his love brought misfortune to people. He loved his dog, but the dog didn’t know how to play chess. And so he wanted to give it a go with young Karl—in part also to assuage his guilt and atone for Valentin’s death.

Johann hoped very much that Karl wouldn’t be the next person he led into ruin.

The sound of flapping wings caused him to start from his thoughts. He looked up and saw a crow staring down at him from the branches of a nearby beech tree.

“Beat it, you damned beast!” Johann picked up a rock and threw it at the crow.

With a mocking caw, it flew away just to land on a different branch, where it continued to stare at him. Since his time with Tonio, Johann had hated crows and ravens. Perhaps that was why he always felt like they were watching him. Those birds seemed to be everywhere—in the mountains, lowlands, villages, towns, and cities. They circled above him in the sky and sat on rooftops, on the edges of wells, and on spires.

Sometimes Johann thought it was always the same three birds. Two crows and an old raven with a scuffed, jagged beak.

“Kraa!” called the crow. “Kraa, kraa!” Johann threw another stone and missed, and then he gave up with a sigh.

The noise woke Karl. The student rubbed his eyes and looked about. It seemed to take him a while to remember where he was and what had happened the day before. The scrapes and bruises he had suffered during his arrest would heal, but the trauma—Johann wasn’t so sure. Karl had come as close to death as a man could.

Johann gave the young man a nod and threw him a piece of bread. “Here, eat,” he said. “We must leave soon.”

“Why so early?” asked Karl with a yawn. He was pale, and dark shadows lay beneath his eyes; a scabby scratch went right across his forehead. But even in that state, Johann noted, he was handsome.

I’m going to have to look after him, thought Johann. Better than I looked after Martin, Margarethe, Valentin, and the others.

“Because this area isn’t safe,” he replied. “The Warnheim peasants might still be out looking for us. And I won’t be able to save you from the fire a second time.”

“And where are you headed?” asked Karl.

“North, east, south, west—I’m at home anywhere.” Johann shrugged. “But I think we’ll head north. There’s too much unrest in the south of the empire. Swabia, Bavaria, the Swiss confederacy . . . war seems to love these climes.” He grinned. “And I’ve never seen the North Sea. The cold ocean beating against the shore.”

“The . . . the North Sea?” Karl was suddenly wide awake. “But that’s awfully far! It’s going to take us many months.”

“We have all the time in the world,” said Johann. “Remember? You’re coming with me, no matter where! Otherwise the next post rider is taking a bundle of letters to Leipzig. Your old life is over.” He walked to the wagon. “And now hurry up, you lazybones. You can eat the bread on the way. And I swear I’ll teach you Lucena’s chess rules before we’re out of this goddamned Hegau.”

When the horse pulled the wagon back onto the road, the crow was still sitting in the trees. It tilted its head to one side as if listening intently. More flapping of wings came from the low-hanging clouds, and another crow and an old raven with a scuffed beak descended from above. They greeted the first crow with a hoarse croaking that sounded almost human.

When the wagon had rolled out of sight, they spread their wings and took off together.

20

THUS JOHANN AND his young companion headed north from Lake Constance. The air became colder, and the autumn wind tore at the wagon’s faded canvas. Most of the time, the two very different men sat side by side in silence, Karl occasionally eyeing his eerie companion furtively. Karl still couldn’t believe that of