The Master's Apprentice - Oliver Potzsch Page 0,219

long while. Clearly, he couldn’t read but didn’t want to admit to it.

“Valentin Brander from the command,” said Valentin after a while. He gestured at Johann. “This is a physician charged with the task of examining my niece.”

“The cripple and the devil’s girl.” The guard grinned and scratched his unkempt beard. “Best the doctor examine the wench for witches’ marks, too. I bet he’ll find some.”

“That is just what I am here for,” replied Johann with the imperious voice of a physician who still has many other patients to visit that day. “So better let us in. Promptly, if you will.”

Grumbling, the guards stepped aside, and Johann and Valentin entered a paved courtyard. To the left was another guarded door, and then stairs led them down below. After a third, ironclad door, they finally stood in the antechamber to the prison. Heavily smoking torches barely managed to light up the low, vaulted room. A cold breeze swept up from a well in the center of the chamber. It smelled of smoke, watery cabbage soup, and stale air. More guards were posted here.

We’ll never get in here undetected, thought Johann. Not with all the magic in the world.

The prison keeper, a stooped, unwashed fellow who was responsible for the welfare and feeding of the prisoners, shuffled toward them and cast a bored glance inside their bags.

“They told me you were coming,” he grumbled. “Not many prisoners get visited by two gentlemen with treats at once. First the lantern and now ham and cheese. Must have cost you a fortune. My food ain’t good enough for the high-class lady, is that it?”

“The girl is my niece,” replied Valentin curtly. “Please direct any further questions to the Order of Teutonic Knights.”

The prison keeper waved dismissively and led them down a narrow corridor past several cell doors. Johann could hear moaning from behind some of the doors. He caught a few glimpses through the windows in the cell doors and saw that the pitiful creatures on the other side were chained to bench seats or had their hands and feet locked in wooden blocks. Symbols above the doors indicated the nature of the crime the inmate was accused of: a red rooster for an arsonist, a black cat for a traitor, and so on. In regular intervals, they had to pass through more locked doors, and each time the keeper had to find the corresponding key on a large ring.

Johann looked over at Valentin, who was impatiently waiting for them to go on. He had to see the hopelessness of their endeavor—they would never get anyone out of here. Not out of a prison as heavily secured as this one. But Valentin merely gave him a tired smile, his eyes flickering with something that bordered on obsession.

Their progress was slow. Every few yards there were barred holes just below the ceiling of the narrow corridor, allowing in a few rays of morning sun and the noise from the market square. Outside, the day was starting, but inside this prison, it was forever dusk.

Finally they stopped outside a cell door almost at the end of the corridor. An upside-down pentagram had been drawn above the door—a sign for witches, Johann guessed. The prison keeper pulled out the heavy key ring one last time and unlocked the door.

“Half an hour,” he said. “Not a minute longer.”

The door swung open, and Johann froze.

The cell was entirely clad in timber, which was worm-eaten and covered in stains that looked like dried blood or excrement. There was a cot, as well as a small bench seat and a bucket to relieve oneself with a board on top that doubled as a table.

A sooty lantern hung from the ceiling and dispersed a little light.

A girl was sitting on the bench with her legs crossed, engrossed in a string game. She was wearing a dirty dress but no shoes, and her toes were blue with cold. Wrapped around her fingers was a thin string, which she twisted and spun into various patterns. When the two men entered, she lifted her face and looked straight at Johann.

That’s impossible! he thought. My God! How on earth . . . ?

“Uncle Valentin!” cried the girl happily, jumping off the bench. “You’re here, finally! I’ve been waiting for so long!”

“My little girl, let me give you a hug!” Valentin put down his pouch and wrapped his arms around Greta.

The girl closed her eyes with happiness. “Don’t leave again,” she whispered. “Ever.”

In the dim light of