The Master's Apprentice - Oliver Potzsch Page 0,217

Johann with disbelief.

“Don’t you get it?” His old friend fought back tears. “They are trying to pin something on my Gretchen! They want her to confess that she has been with Satan and want her to tell them what she knows about the murders. But she doesn’t know anything! She’s still a child! They just . . . they just need a scapegoat.” Valentin squeezed Johann’s hand with his uninjured left. “That is the real reason I wanted you to come to Nuremberg, Johann Georg Faustus. Please help me get my Greta out of jail!”

Johann bit his lip. So that was why he was here. Not because of some comet, not to find answers to his questions, but because of a child from the gutter. Or, to be more precise, to help a friend. The only friend he’d ever had.

To atone for my guilt, he thought.

“How long?” he asked.

Valentin wiped the tears from his scarred face. “What do you mean?”

“How long until they put her on trial, damn it?”

“I . . . I don’t know. She’s been in jail for nearly a month. Maybe they forgot about her, or maybe they’ve started with the torture by now. She’s only fourteen, but I heard that even with younger children . . . I know what it’s like. I know the pain.” Tears streamed down Valentin’s cheeks now, and he trembled all over. “I told the guards that Greta is a distant niece of mine, and so—with the help of the commander—I’m allowed to visit her every few days. Until now Eisenhofen has been able to prevent the worst from happening to her. He doesn’t believe she is guilty of anything. But even the power of the Teutonic Knights is limited. We can’t waste any more time!”

Johann ran his hands through his hair. “And what do you imagine I can do about it? I’ve heard about the Loch Prison—it’s heavily fortified and lies deep below the city hall. I’d gladly do anything for you, but this is impossible!”

“There must be a way!”

Johann gave a desperate laugh. “Do you want me to make a demon appear with the laterna magica to chase the guards away? That might work in a small backwater, but not here.”

Valentin eyed him sharply. “So you have a laterna again? I’d heard something along those lines. My laterna . . .” He closed his eyes for a moment. “No, it probably won’t work with the laterna magica. But perhaps we’ll think of something else.” He leaned forward. “I’ve got a suggestion for you, Johann. Tomorrow I’m allowed to visit Gretchen again, and I want you to come with me. If you can take a look at the prison, we might come up with an idea. I will tell them that you’re a medical expert and I want you to examine her. The commander will put in a good word.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Johann sighed and took Valentin by the hands. For a moment they were the old friends they used to be in Heidelberg. “But I can’t promise anything. Perhaps—”

He broke off when they heard footsteps on the gravel. Then the bell of the order’s church tolled once, and Eberhart von Streithagen appeared.

“The commander wishes to know how you have decided, Herr Doctor,” he said.

Johann exchanged a glance with Valentin.

“I will try to help you,” he replied at last. “With or without magic.”

Deep down below the city, not far from the Teutonic Knights’ gardens, something rumbled.

A monotonous humming followed, echoing against the walls of the corridors until it sounded like the howling of a hundred hungry wolves. In the ancient vaults below, a man wearing a black robe stood in front of a copper basin, his hands spread far apart, his head leaning back, as if he was worshipping something lurking much deeper still below. The man’s robe was covered in old symbols, and it was woven from dried sinews and tiny veins that had been cut from young bodies with sharp knives. The humming grew louder, and the man dropped something slippery into the dark waters of the basin, causing the surface to ripple.

The man smiled.

Quite a peculiar juice is blood.

He was about to continue with his invocation when a cawing disturbed his litany. The man looked up with irritation.

“Baphomet, Azazel, Belial, stop it! Or I’m going to drown you in this basin!”

The two crows and the raven stared at their master from small, nasty eyes. They shuffled back and forth excitedly on the perch in