The Master's Apprentice - Oliver Potzsch Page 0,60
buried in the Knittlingen cemetery. Johann’s heart ached at the thought, and he decided to stop fretting about his parents. He might no longer have a father or a mother, but he had Tonio.
Sometimes, when the master was satisfied with Johann and the night was crisp and clear, Tonio would take him outside and show him the constellations. Ursa Minor and Major, Aquila, Andromeda with its milky fog. The great Ptolemy had gazed upon them. The stars were eternal. And yet they changed. Constellations traveled, coming and going like ancient companions of Mother Earth.
“Look there: Orion,” Tonio said, pointing to a particularly striking constellation. “Canis Minor and Canis Major rise with him in winter. Together with Taurus, Gemini, and Auriga, they form the winter hexagon. In February, the summer constellations begin to return.”
“There are so many stars,” replied Johann. “And you can’t seem to see the end. Is the universe infinite?”
“Remember the heavenly spheres,” Tonio said. “There are eight of them.”
“And what comes after the eighth sphere?”
Tonio laughed. “If I were a priest, I’d say, ‘God only knows.’ But I think we don’t know because we can’t see that far. Most stars can’t be seen with the naked eye. But there are . . .” Tonio hesitated. “Possibilities. Your birth constellation, too, is difficult to discern, especially because our narrow-minded way of thinking ends behind the eighth sphere.”
“Do you know when it appears next?” asked Johann.
The master smiled mysteriously. “You’ll find out soon enough, young Faustus.”
Johann was struck by the thought that the very same stars he was gazing at were also sparkling above Knittlingen, and homesickness flared up in him. He remembered how Father Bernhard also used to explain the constellations to him, and how Father Antonius showed him the printing press at Maulbronn and the book of the great Albertus Magnus—the Speculum Astronomiae, the mirror of astronomy.
But most of all, he thought of his little brother, Martin, and of Margarethe.
Some nights, when he couldn’t go to sleep, his thoughts of Margarethe became so strong that he had to seek relief with his hand. Afterward, he felt ashamed and prayed for Margarethe’s health. Perhaps she’d forgotten him by now. For him, too, it would be best to forget her.
But he couldn’t.
During the cold days of January, he was often alone in the tower. The master didn’t tell him where he was going, but more than once Tonio stayed out overnight. He always locked the trapdoor leading to the upstairs chamber carefully before leaving and reminded Johann what he’d do to his pupil should the young man ever ignore his order.
When the master would return the next morning, he always looked very pleased. A few times he came back with new books—mostly about astronomy and alchemy—and Johann wondered where he got them. Other times, the master carried sealed clay jugs or leather sacks filled with something bulky. The sacks were damp at the bottom, as if whatever was inside was wet. Johann didn’t dare ask about it, though, and focused on his books. He got the impression that Tonio always looked healthier after his nightly expeditions—less pale, somewhat rosier and fleshier in the face. He guessed the master went to the village tavern for a good meal and a few drinks while Johann was stuck in the tower with a grumbling stomach, working on the accursed horoscope of some priest. Sometimes, when he looked up from his work, he felt as though the birds in the cage were watching him so they could tell the master all about his doings.
“Goddamned beasts!” shouted Johann once, throwing a piece of firewood at the cage, causing it to swing back and forth wildly. The birds cawed as if they were mocking him, and the raven glared at him with evil eyes.
“Kraa!” croaked the raven. “Kraa, kraa!”
Johann held his hands over his ears to shut out the bird’s almost-human voice.
When Johann needed a break from the tables and numbers, he went into the forest to chop firewood. He baked delicious-smelling loaves of flatbread over the fire, practiced his magic tricks and throwing his knife, or leafed through books the master had lent him. Johann had always enjoyed reading, and his Latin was getting better all the time. He was a fast reader and remembered most of what he read. When Tonio quizzed him on a book, Johann was nearly always able to give detailed replies. Then the master would lower the book and gaze at Johann pensively.