The Master's Apprentice - Oliver Potzsch Page 0,229

But Johann didn’t know whether God would have a spot for him in paradise, too.

They turned left behind the Sebaldus Church and headed toward the city wall again.

“I still don’t understand why we have to leave the city to get back inside the city,” grumbled Karl. “Are there no other places to access those passageways?” He groaned and tugged at the straps of the crate on his back. “The laterna is damned heavy. I don’t want to carry it halfway to Fürth.”

“Most access points inside the city are guarded or lie below houses of burghers who have cellars,” explained Valentin. “I found an entrance that is more or less freely accessible. Probably because folks avoid it.”

“And where is this entrance?” asked Karl.

“At a cemetery,” replied Johann.

“At a—?”

“Shh!” Johann gestured for Karl to be quiet. “We have nothing to fear from the dead—only from the living! So be quiet.”

Cautiously, they approached Neutor Gate near the castle; the gate was closed at this time of night and was guarded by a solitary watchman.

“Wait here,” whispered Valentin.

He approached the guard and, after a few moments, handed him some coins. The man opened the door and let them pass through with a nod.

The highway stretched before them, desolate and empty. Some crows flew up from the icy fields. The moon emerged from behind the clouds and painted the sparsely wooded landscape with a silvery-gray light. About half a mile to the west, a few lights sparkled.

“Sankt Johannis,” said Valentin, pointing at the lights. “The city’s plague cemetery. Ever since the last great epidemic, Nuremberg prefers to leave its dead outside the gates.”

“The entrance is at a plague cemetery?” asked Karl.

“Just yesterday they dug out a new mass grave and scattered lime over the bodies.” Valentin gave a shrug. “Lucky for us. Folks avoid the place.”

“And so they should,” said Karl.

Johann glanced at his young assistant, wondering whether he already regretted having come along. But Karl still strode on at a fast pace with the heavy crate on his back. The laterna was part of the plan Johann had worked out in the last few days. It was a plan that required a huge dose of luck and a crucial moment of surprise.

After a while they reached the lights, which belonged to a handful of low houses. A little off to the side stood a small church surrounded by the gray silhouettes of tombstones. A low stone wall enclosed the cemetery; dry rosebushes had grown over the wall in places. Valentin stopped in front of a rusty gate and pulled out a piece of parchment that had been folded several times.

They lit a lantern, and Valentin held it close to the map, which was covered in scribbled lines and arrows.

“The entrance is in a crypt inside the plague chapel,” said Valentin, pointing to the map. “It has to be somewhere in the family crypt of the Holzschuhers, who are influential patricians in Nuremberg.” He looked up and gestured at the chapel among the graves nearby.

“Let’s go.” Johann opened the rusty gate. For a brief moment, he thought he heard the jingle of bells, but then the squeaking of the gate drowned out all other sounds. More slowly now, they walked past the old, crooked grave markers that rose out of the ground like the teeth of giants. There were several fresh mounds of dirt, including one very large one. Several black birds sat on top of it, but Johann couldn’t make them out very well in the dark. Even in the chill of winter, the sweet smell of decay lay in the air.

Soon they reached the plague chapel, a small, towerlike building. Johann pushed against the door and entered the dark room on the other side. In the light of the lantern he saw wooden choir stalls and an altar farther back. The floor in front of them was covered in grave slabs with the likenesses of many long-dead Nuremberg patricians.

“The Holzschuher crypt,” whispered Valentin, gesturing toward one of the slabs. “We need to get down there.”

He slipped his pack off his hunched shoulders and pulled out a crowbar. Karl took it and wedged it beneath the edge of the stone slab. There was a crunching noise, and the slab lifted a tiny bit.

“Wait.” Johann rushed down the apse toward a plain cross that was about as tall as a man. It took all his strength to lift it down and drag it over to the grave slab.

“Do it again,” he said to Karl while