The Master's Apprentice - Oliver Potzsch Page 0,198
rotting between an inkwell and a quill. Johann smelled parchment, dust, and sweat.
“My realm,” said Agrippa with a smile and gestured for Johann to sit on a stool. They both sat down, and Agrippa eyed Johann for a long while.
“Well, well, the famous Doctor Faustus,” he said eventually and leaned back. “Someone told me about your lectures at Erfurt. I was impressed by your views on the theological term of God. A little dangerous, though, because it doesn’t take much to be called a heretic these days. I know what I’m talking about.”
“And you are lecturing here in Cologne?” asked Johann.
“Simple theological discussions without any particular classification—on request of the rector.” Agrippa gave a shrug, and Johann wasn’t sure whether this show of boredom was an act or real. Agrippa was certainly clever, but he also had something pretentious and loud about him.
Just like me, thought Johann.
“I doubt I’ll be staying in Cologne for much longer,” continued Agrippa. “I’ll probably have to travel to Italy soon. It is my duty to accompany a heavily guarded chest of war as an imperial officer. Earlier this year I helped a friend of mine in Spain to win back his castle. Oh yes, and not long ago I worked in England as an agent. The emperor sent me to develop good trade relations with the new king, Henry VIII. I speak English, you see.” He paused and raised one eyebrow. “Do you know the feeling of never being satisfied, always wanting more from life, forever searching and exploring, regardless of the consequences?”
Johann nodded. “Oh yes. I know it well.”
Too well.
“I guess that makes us brothers in spirit.” Agrippa laughed, and his laugh was soft and melodious, almost like that of a woman. He looked around for a jug of wine, grabbed two dirty cups from a table full of books, and filled them.
“You see, I’m just as restless as you. Today I’m here, tomorrow gone—the studium generale includes all parts of life. But you haven’t come here just to chat, have you? So why are you here?”
Johann cleared his throat. “While you were in England, you wrote a manuscript. I was fortunate enough to purchase a copy in Hamburg.” He nervously pulled out the bundle of pages and smoothed them on the table in front of him. Agrippa shot a glance at them.
“The Occulta Philosophia,” said the scholar with a nod. “I’m a long way away from finishing it.” He sighed. “I should never have let that fat merchant buy a copy. But he paid well, and the emperor is once again in arrears.”
“I must congratulate you. It’s a masterpiece!” Johann tapped the pages. “No one has ever approached magic as systematically as you have. Astrology, invocations, spells, manticism, potions—”
“Pure theory.” Agrippa waved dismissively. “I lack practical experience, and that is where you are the teacher and I am but an eager student. Why are you so interested in it?”
“Well, your work touches questions that”—Johann paused—“that concern me personally.”
For the first time Agrippa seemed genuinely interested, and he leaned forward. “What do you mean?”
“Certain things have happened in my life that . . . Well, one could say I am cursed. And I’ve been wondering for a while now whether those incidents have anything to do with my birth chart. I was born under Jupiter. The sun and Jupiter stood in the same degree of the same zodiac on the day of my birth.”
Agrippa nodded. “A strong constellation indeed. Born under the lucky star—hence your name, I guess.”
“I haven’t found my luck yet,” Johann replied bitterly. “Have you ever heard of the expression born on the day of the prophet? Apparently it has something to do with my birth.”
“No, I’m sorry.” Agrippa shook his head. “But I think it’s likely that the stars have more to say about your birth than we simple humans can see with our bare eyes.” When Johann gave him a quizzical look, Agrippa continued. “I am convinced that there are many more stars out there. Some shine very weakly, as if they were far away. I’ve always wondered, What lies beyond?”
“Ptolemy wrote that the Earth was surrounded by eight spheres,” replied Johann. “And beyond those is nothing.”
“And you’re content with that explanation?” Agrippa smiled. “You disappoint me, Faustus. Don’t you want to find out what lies beyond the eighth sphere?”
“Beyond the eighth sphere.” Johann gazed into the distance. “Someone else said those words to me once.”
“That someone must have been a wise man.” Agrippa emptied his cup in