The Master's Apprentice - Oliver Potzsch Page 0,230

sweat ran down his forehead despite the cold.

The young man groaned as he pushed up the slab, and Johann pushed the long beam of the cross into the gap. Then he walked to the other end of the cross and levered the stone slab until it crashed to the floor on the side. A cloud of fine stone dust spread through the chapel, along with a musty smell from inside the hole.

“The law of the lever, by Archimedes,” Johann declared with a smile and wiped his forehead. “The mechanical advantage is proportional to the length of the lever. Yet more proof that science gets a man further than mere muscle power.” He took the flickering lantern from Valentin and held it in the room below them for a few moments. Then he gathered up his cloak. “Well, then—in the beginning was the deed!”

Clutching the lantern tightly, he jumped into the crypt below.

The chamber beneath the church floor was about as high as Johann’s shoulders and full of stone sarcophagi, each one bearing the emblem of the Moor with the red hat and a wooden shoe—the family crest of the Holzschuhers. The air smelled of rot, soil, and fungi.

Karl and Valentin had also climbed into the crypt by now, the younger man helping the older one. The three of them started to feel along the walls, almost completely in the dark despite the lantern.

“Over here!” called out Karl after a while. He’d found a small, narrow door that had been reinforced with pieces of iron. A rusty lock hung on the door.

“This must be the entrance,” said Valentin. “Now we need this.” He fished the key ring from his pack and tried one key after another. Finally, on the seventh attempt, they heard a click and the lock opened. They pushed on the little door, and on the other side lay a pitch-black corridor.

“The entrance to the Nuremberg underground passages,” murmured Valentin. “We actually found it.” He stared into the darkness. “From now on, we must place our trust in God. In God and in my map.”

Carrying the lantern in one hand and the map in the other, he limped ahead; Karl and Johann followed.

The passageway was about as wide as two arms’ lengths and just high enough for them to walk with bent knees and hunched shoulders. It had been dug into the sandstone without any bracing. Water dripped from the ceiling, and Johann tried to avoid touching the drops. The bodies of plague victims were buried above them, and their juices of putrefaction probably seeped through coffins and sand. Small puddles had formed on the ground, and Johann saw wood splinters and pieces of bone.

Their steps echoed through the tunnel. No one spoke. After what felt like an eternity, the passage ended in a small, round chamber with three doors. All three were locked. Valentin raised the lantern and studied the map.

“I believe we’re near the Tiergärtner Gate now,” he said. “Back inside the city and not far from the castle. I think . . .” He hesitated. “Let’s take the right-hand passage.”

“And if we get lost?” asked Karl.

“We won’t get lost,” said Johann. He had produced a black coal pencil from his pack and used it to draw a sign next to the door on the right. “Miners use such signs below ground,” he explained. “If we leave a mark at every fork, we shouldn’t get lost.”

Valentin smiled. “I knew it was right to bring you to Nuremberg, Johann. You may have lied to me and betrayed me, but I still admire your wit and your nerve.”

You have no idea, thought Johann. Inwardly, he was shaking and his fingers trembled. His whole life seemed to be coming to a head in these crucial hours.

He had to free his daughter and right an old wrong.

Valentin pulled out the key ring again, and soon they’d opened the door. The tunnel on the other side led slightly downhill. The walls and ceiling dripped and gurgled, and trickles ran down the walls like a network of veins inside a giant stone organism. A drain enclosed with bricks stretched down the center of the passageway. The water collected in the drain and rushed into the tunnel below their feet.

“Yes, it’s the old Loch water supply!” said Valentin triumphantly. “The drains collect the water and direct it to the wells. Hmm . . .” He studied the map again. “The city hall should be southeast of here—”

“And this tunnel runs southeast, indeed,” said Johann.