The Master's Apprentice - Oliver Potzsch Page 0,59

asked Johann, leaning closer to the drawing.

“Earth and man are surrounded by celestial bodies.” Tonio counted on his fingers. “The sun, the moon, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn—and each one is attached to a sphere. Those stars and planets are also known as the holy seven. Then follows the sphere of zodiacs, which is divided into twelve signs. Seven and twelve are magical numbers. Do you follow me?”

Johann nodded, and Tonio continued. “Each planet and each sign of the zodiac has an influence on man, on his destiny and his future. There are two kinds of horoscope: the nativity, which is about a person’s character, and the progressive horoscope, which tells us something about the outcome of a future event, like a battle or a business decision. This kind of horoscope is much more difficult and therefore more expensive.”

Fascinated, Johann studied the drawing and several tables below it. He’d been waiting for this for weeks. How many times had his mother spoken of the stars on the day of his birth and how because of them, he was a lucky child, a Faustus. Now he’d finally learn what all that meant!

“My mother said I was born under the influence of Jupiter,” he said quietly. “On April twenty-three in the year of 1478. She always told me to remember the date well, but she never explained why. Can you tell me?”

“It’s a strange date indeed. On that day, at your place of birth, the sun and Jupiter stood in the same degree of the same sign. And some of the other celestial bodies formed a, well . . . a very interesting relationship. It’s a constellation that occurs only a handful of times in a century.”

“When I first met you, you spoke of a day of the prophet,” said Johann. “Do you remember?”

“Oh yes, I remember.”

Suddenly, the master’s eyes became as empty as glass marbles and he gazed into the distance. When he spoke again, his voice was hollow and so quiet that Johann struggled to understand.

“And I stood upon the sand of the sea, and saw a beast rise up out of the sea, having seven heads and ten horns, and upon his horns ten crowns, and upon his heads the name of blasphemy. Homo Deus est!”

Johann frowned with confusion. He’d never seen the master like this before. “What did you say?” he asked.

Tonio shook his head and smiled, his eyes normal again. “An old Bible quote, nothing more.” He turned the page, and there were more tables with numbers. “Listen, I have a task for you. A Palatinate abbot asked me to write up a simple nativity for him. I haven’t gotten around to it yet, and I’d like you to do it. You’ve got all winter.”

“All winter?” Johann looked at him with surprise. “It can’t possibly take that long!”

Tonio laughed. “My dear Faustus, you’ll soon learn that astrology, along with alchemy, makes up the crown of the arcane arts. The road to mastery is long, stony, and paved with mistakes. And now listen carefully to what I’m telling you about the time of birth and sidereal time. I’ll only explain everything once. Understood?”

Johann gradually came to realize that astrology was an extremely complicated field indeed, more difficult than anything he’d studied so far—yes, even more difficult than playing that accursed bagpipe.

In the following days, he studied the signs of the zodiac and their meanings. Each sign in the outermost sphere occupied a space of thirty degrees, of which ten formed a so-called decade. From a person’s time of birth and the sidereal time—time reckoned by the movement of the stars rather than the sun—the so-called twelve houses could be calculated. There were ascendants and descendants, and everything had to be determined with the help of complicated formulas. Many nights Johann sat up late working on the chart just to watch the master tear his work to pieces the next morning.

“You’re nothing but a jackass,” scolded Tonio. “You can’t even manage the simplest calculations. From the beginning! If you’re not finished by noon, you’re not getting any lunch.”

Johann thus studied day after day. He thought about his stepfather telling him that his real father, the juggler and traveling scholar, also used to read the stars. Most likely, it had been nothing but hocus-pocus, not true knowledge, although Johann couldn’t be certain. He didn’t know who his father was. And he’d never find out, since the only person who could tell him was his mother—and she lay dead and